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NARRATOR: Not everyone lives in a suburban tract house, or wants to.
But a windmill....
a washateria...
a Quonset hut?
JANE: We thought we would tear it down,
and one night, Michael said, "We could have curved ceilings.
Wouldn't that be cool?"
What about a trailer?
HOFMANN: Why do I have to have a house?
Why can't I just make this my permanent residence?
NARRATOR: Stick around for a tour
of some amazing living spaces,
and meet the people whose creativity and vision
made it all possible.
-- Captions by VITAC --
Closed Captions provided by Scripps Networks, LLC.
The quaint small town of Beaufort, South Carolina,
is famous for its romantic antebellum architecture.
But there's a different style of home
in the nearby neighborhood called Lady's Island.
Settled on a hilltop acre is an industrial-influenced home
that all began with a World War II Quonset hut.
Used as barracks, storage sheds, and medical facilities,
these factory-made structures served many purposes.
Michael was on his bicycle, rode by,
and said, "I've got the perfect place."
Architects Jane and Michael Frederick
were searching for a combination home and office.
The 66-year-old hut was ideal, but it needed major renovations.
It was a rental-property Quonset hut
with nasty *** carpet and nasty, low ceilings.
MICHAEL: The renovation involved taking everything
that had been added onto it.
We took everything but the metal Quonset hut frame out
and then started over again.
Most of the original structure is still completely intact.
It measures 25 feet wide by 50 feet long
and covers 1,200 square feet.
Inside, the front door of the hut is the largest space --
a combined living and dining room.
A powder room for family and guests is next to the entry.
Behind a wall of bookcases
is a spacious kitchen and a breakfast room.
Light filters through the large sliding-glass doors
that lead to a screened-in sun porch
and an outdoor dining area.
Remodeling all these rounded rooms wasn't easy.
We thought we would tear it down,
and one night, Michael said,
"You know, we could have curved ceilings.
Wouldn't that be cool?"
So that's when we decided that we would renovate it.
In addition to restoring the original hut,
these architects also added a second unit with three bedrooms,
but they did all the structural work very carefully.
An iconic kind of funky little building
that you don't want to bury --
how do you attach to it without overpowering it?
And so what we wanted to do was attach extremely lightly.
NARRATOR: They connected the addition with a short hallway,
which features a tower of concrete cantilevered steps
that are used to access the upper level.
Because we had a Quonset hut and the round forms,
we thought it made sense to do a circular staircase.
These are just dock bolts that hook from here to here,
and then we welded these on the top of the dock bolts
and hooked this cantilevered stair together.
NARRATOR: Metal steps in the hallway lead down to the hut.
These are sheet-metal stairs,
which seemed appropriate for a Quonset hut,
but you can hear them,
so you know when you move from the new house
to the Quonset hut.
NARRATOR: The fireplace was another addition.
MICHAEL: The chimney is just a 20-inch concrete culvert
that we stuccoed.
Everybody thinks that this is a tree from the inside.
They go, "How did you get that tree right there
so close to the fireplace?"
And we're like, "Well, that's the chimney."
NARRATOR: The metal roof is now painted red
to keep it from rusting,
but inside, there are many nods to the raw corrugated color,
from the clever coffee table designed by Michael
to the majority of the kitchen storage space.
Cabinets can be really expensive,
and so we were trying to think up a way
that would really fit into the Quonset hut,
so we came up with the corrugated metal
and just love them.
The light on them is really nice.
It strikes across the metal, and the motion of it
and the light on the metal is really pretty.
NARRATOR: Curved interior walls
form a cozy space for a reading nook,
and curved ceilings painted blue give the big space a warm glow.
Initially, though, Michael wasn't sure
if drywall was flexible enough
to adapt to the arch of the walls.
It went up no problem at all, and you can't see a seam in it.
NARRATOR: Seamless beauty created from a rustic and humble structure.
So what's next?
I mean, we're architects. We always have plans.
We don't go more than two or three years
without some sort of project going on.
It's almost, for architects,
your house is your laboratory
that you want to just keep experimenting
and seeing what happens.
East Hampton, New York, maintains its small-town charm
by preserving its historic characteristics.
Windmills are a large part of that culture
and are sprinkled throughout its scenic landscape.
But Amagansett, a quaint village in East Hampton,
holds a windmill unlike the others.
Nestled at the end of a long driveway,
past an apple orchard, lies Windswept,
once a working windmill turned fairytale home.
I used to ride my bike through Amagansett,
and right down the street here, it was all trees,
and I used to say,
"I would love to live in there."
NARRATOR: So one day, collage artist and model Amelina Siekluska
decided to make her own wish come true.
It was just surrounded by trees and rolling, green hills
and just amazing energy.
NARRATOR: The windmill was built in 1830
and remained functional until the 1950s,
when it was converted into a guest house.
That renovation included
removing the lower-level mechanics of the windmill
to make the tower a full three-story living space.
SO, this is my cozy Studio 54 living room.
I love this living room
because it's shaped like the octagon,
and the walls are tilted in,
and the exposed beams,
I think, are really rustic and super cool.
NARRATOR: Above the living room
is a wooden hatch that leads to her master suite.
The staircase railings and the original beams
offer structural support,
as well as a cozy cottage feel.
In the ceiling that divides the second and third floors
are two more hatch doors,
customized for the windmill's octagonal shape.
This top level also functions as a closet.
This room is not insulated, and it gets very chilly,
so I always keep these doors closed --
these two hatch doors that go down to the bedroom.
Otherwise, there's a major draft.
And it's actually hard to keep my clothes up here, too,
because you have to run really fast to get something
'cause it's so cold.
NARRATOR: Remnants from the windmill's wooden mechanics
offer a reminder of its original purpose.
The engineering and construction of the interior
reveals a craftsmanship designed to harness the wind
and pump water from a nearby lake.
The door provided access to the blades for repairs.
Back downstairs, next to the living room,
is the rest of the house.
We're now leaving the original windmill part
of Windswept.
The kitchen and hereon is an addition.
This is my bright and happy kitchen.
I love my view.
I do my dishes, and I watch the deer,
and I can see just about everything from in here.
NARRATOR: Down the hall is the only bathroom,
and beyond that...
This is the Rock 'N' Roll room.
NARRATOR: ...is Amelina's studio.
SIEKLUSKA: This is probably my favorite room
because it's the brightest, and it has the most windows.
I feel the most connected here, in this room.
I love the arch ceiling
and the exposed beams and the two-tone walls,
and this is where Max loves to go outside.
Bye, Max. See you later.
NARRATOR: The beautiful artistry of a design made over 200 years ago
is still remarkably tucked away in this serene landscape.
Today, the home is not just a source of peace for Amelina.
It's also her source of inspiration.
These Indiana homeowners had their work cut out for them
when they evicted the previous tenants
and converted a 100-year-old firehouse.
JEFF: It was just open and dirty and filthy.
Yeah, it had a few visitors that lived in here a little bit,
you know, that weren't supposed to.
Pigeons.
NARRATOR: Welcome back.
We're on a journey to uncover the most interesting homes,
including a South Carolina Quonset hut
and a windmill in New York.
In New Harmony, Indiana,
there stands a 100-year-old fire station,
which Jeff, Cindy,
their two girls, Andrea and Sarah,
and their dog, Lucky, call home.
The three-story structure was converted into three bedrooms,
double bathroom, kitchen, spacious living room,
working fire pole,
and a playhouse formally known as "the bell tower."
Our host Tony Frassrand stopped by
to meet the fun-loving family.
FRASSRAND: How did you find this place, Cindy?
We did an antique show.
Every year,
they set us up right here in front of the building,
and the building was for sale.
So within six weeks, we were here.
NARRATOR: Jeff and Cindy moved the entire family from Tennessee
for the chance of a lifetime.
A building like this in Tennessee, where we were from,
was just unavailable, much less the cost.
It was affordable.
NARRATOR: The former first-floor jail now houses the kitchen.
The decor features
several reminders of the building's past,
including the original jail bars, a cell door,
and a key to freedom.
JEFF: This was the old jail cell.
CINDY: This is it. Yeah.
Okay.
NARRATOR: Up the stairs is the living room,
which features a winding staircase and a fire pole.
JEFF: It's not original to the building,
because it was a volunteer fire department,
so it was a promise to our girls when we came to live here
that we'd put a pole in for them.
NARRATOR: And what about a fire alarm?
Climb the spiral staircase back in the living room,
and you'll find the original bell
still hanging up in the bell tower.
Today, it's a playroom for the kids.
JEFF: Buckeye Bell Foundry, 1873.
FRASSRAND: Now, does it still ring?
Sure.
Can I...?
Yeah. You go right ahead.
Give it a big swing.
Other way. This way. Yeah.
[ Bell dings ]
[ Laughing ] Oh, man.
Here we go.
NARRATOR: The kids, and even the young at heart,
enjoy taking the route back to the second level.
That's quick!
Next to the living room is the master bedroom,
where Cindy came up with a novel idea
for more storage space.
Well, you have to get creative
when you live in a building with tall ceilings
and not a lot of storage,
so you will see all over these cabinet doors
and above that is our storage.
NARRATOR: Down the hall are Andrea and Sarah's bedrooms,
and adjacent to the rooms
is the only bathroom in the house.
This actually houses two bathrooms inside.
We did a hers, which has a bathtub and a toilet,
and then we did a his, which has a shower and a toilet,
so there's no traffic jams in the morning.
But before this firehouse
became the comfortable home it is today,
it was a complete mess.
The ceiling was falling in.
JEFF: It was just open and dirty and filthy.
Yeah, it had a few visitors that lived in here a little bit,
you know, that weren't supposed to.
Pigeons.
NARRATOR: It took some hard work before the place made progress.
JEFF: The walls were plaster that was really in bad shape --
you know, falling off and stuff.
And we tore plaster off in the living area also
and exposed some brick.
Yeah.
NARRATOR: Jeff and Cindy had a distinct vision,
but it took some convincing to get their children on board.
We could see the potential,
but our children, now, they had a hard time, going,
"This is where we're gonna live?"
I thought it was a little weird
because it was a big, old, dusty room,
and I was like, "Okay, this is not gonna work out,"
but it did.
NARRATOR: These avid fans of history and old buildings
met their destiny in this 100-year-old firehouse.
Our next home played an integral role during Woodstock,
the famous 1969 music festival in upstate New York.
This barn was used as what they called "the hog farm."
A fellow named Wavy Gravy
was the guy in charge of feeding 500,000 people.
NARRATOR: Welcome back.
We're on a journey to uncover the most unusual homes
from around the world.
In 1969,
one of the greatest peace, love, and music events in the world
was held in Bethel, New York.
It was called Woodstock.
And for four days, over half a million people
participated in the social revolution.
One of the gathering sites was Max Yasgur's dairy barn,
which served as a mess hall during Woodstock.
Now the space has been converted
into a full-time office and residential space
for the property's new owner, Steve Dubrovsky.
This barn was used as what they called "the hog farm."
A fellow named Wavy Gravy
was the guy in charge of feeding 500,000 people.
And when we first came in,
there were chain-link fences down this road
that went all the way down, and people lined up here
to get fed in the back of this property.
NARRATOR: The 15,000-square-foot space includes three bedrooms,
two bathrooms, a kitchen,
and plenty of office space for Steve's business.
The dairy barn was built in the late 1800s
and was one of several barns owned by Max Yasgur.
Mr. Yasgur was a character.
His legacy sort of lives in this barn
and some of the other properties that he used to own around here.
We originally bought this for the land,
and I got sort of attached to the barn as time went on,
and the more that I researched,
the more that I understood the history of it,
really decided that it was worth the effort
to bring this back to life.
NARRATOR: After three years of renovation work,
Steve decided to stay put
and made the spacious three-level structure
home base for himself and his business.
He overcame some major challenges to get here.
As a dairy barn, obviously,
had no windows, had no man doors.
The doors that were there
were big, open, sliding doors for machinery.
Dormers were put on to help expand space upstairs.
The cupolas on top didn't exist.
They didn't need the venting that we do in a house.
The fireplaces, obviously, weren't there.
The challenge was to make those changes,
yet let people see it and recognize it
as the barn that it was.
NARRATOR: One of these recognizable elements was the silo,
left in place as a reminder of the barn's past.
We're in the rear of the large part of the barn,
and what you see here is an old wooden silo.
We stabilized it by putting cross bracing inside of it
and pushing out on the rings.
We don't believe it's gonna fall over.
NARRATOR: Steve's company now uses the bottom level
for drafting architectural sketches.
But when it was a functioning barn,
this area was home to the cattle.
It's now an area where we design our homes.
I'm not sure if it's easier
to work with the cattle that was here
or the draftsmen that are here now.
NARRATOR: Several parts of the barn, like the bedrooms,
feature local materials
and give the space a luxurious look and sustainable feel.
The trim that you see here, again,
is a log slab that we've used throughout the whole building.
They saw the edges off and create a square product.
That material that is peeled off of there, we recut,
and the reason we like it so much is the character.
You can see these areas where branches were growing out,
and we leave them so that people can recognize what they were.
NARRATOR: People still come from all around
to walk the land that fostered a revolution.
When Steve is working in the barn,
all he has to do is walk outside
to connect with the peaceful vibe that still remains.
DUBROVSKY: I enjoy it.
It's a great place to come to work.
It relaxes you a little bit just to be here.
Things get tense, I just walk out on the porch
and look over the horses and go back in,
and my blood pressure drops a little bit,
and I can go back to doing what I do.
NARRATOR: It's a magical place still visited by people
who believe that Woodstock is not just a place in time,
but a way of being in the world.
Our next home is in Santa Barbara, California,
where converting a recreational travel trailer
into a full-time home forced this man to pare down.
HOFMANN: You don't need as many things.
It just weighs you down, and when I buy something,
I don't think, "Can I afford it?"
I think, "Can I store it?"
NARRATOR: We visited unique homes
that at one time were an animal barn,
a Quonset hut, even a windmill.
In a trendy downtown neighborhood
in Santa Barbara, California,
an old trailer park has a new tenant.
Matthew Hofmann lives in a completely renovated
1973 Airstream.
HOFMANN: The reason that I'm fascinated with Airstreams is simple.
They're an 80-year-old company,
and they've stood the test of time.
They've become an American icon,
and there's a reason for that -- They're well-built.
NARRATOR: Matthew owns five refurbished Airstreams
in the Santa Barbara Auto Camp.
He rents out four and lives in this one.
It measures 31 feet long, and its 125 interior square feet
are all that Matthew needs to be happy.
Inside the only entrance is the first of three rooms --
an all electric kitchen with a built-in couch and dining area.
The second room in the back is a cozy bedroom.
At the front is a complete bathroom
with a full-size claw-foot soaking tub and shower.
Outside, a retractable awning provides an outdoor room,
a covered terrace for sunny mornings in central California.
The trailer attaches to city utilities
for electricity, air-conditioning, and water,
like a conventional house,
but it can be hitched and moved to a different location.
The design and the trailer, at least the inside,
is made to feel like a residence.
The fixtures, they're residential-style fixtures.
It's not something you typically find in a trailer.
NARRATOR: The Airstream concept started in 1932
as an affordable vacation home on wheels.
HOFMANN: You can live in this trailer.
Why do I have to have a house?
Why can't I just make this my permanent residence?
It adapts a new type of lifestyle --
a whole new mentality.
You don't need as many things.
It just weighs you down, and when I buy something,
I don't think, "Can I afford it?"
I think, "Can I store it?"
It's the freedom from stuff.
NARRATOR: Matthew bought the trailer for $3,000.
The interior was exactly how it was in 1973,
when it came off the assembly line
in the Ohio factory where all Airstream trailers are made.
We actually gutted the entire trailer.
We took everything apart,
and we realized that there's certain aspects
that we wanted to keep.
For example, we kept the overhead cabinets here.
These are from the '60s.
It's just an interesting design concept,
where you take the old and the new.
NARRATOR: Matthew's adaptation includes Brazilian koa floors
and a glass vessel-style sink in the bathroom.
When you put something inside of a trailer,
you keep it as simple as you can.
You need everything you need, but nothing you don't.
NARRATOR: Cleaning to get ready for guests takes a few minutes,
and, yes, there is a guest room.
HOFMANN: You just take the cushions away,
and you have a single bed.
This turns into a series of different beds.
So you could have a double bed. You could have a queen bed.
It's a big bed.
As with everything in this trailer,
I tried to design it simple.
I like spaces that are white, airy, open.
I got a skylight up here. It lets a lot of light in.
You got one nice window behind us,
so you have a certain degree of privacy in here.
I built this canopy. I wrapped this bent plywood.
There's fabric all the way around it.
And I just crawl up and curl in any different fashion,
you know, like this.
This, I like. I've got lights up here.
You know, sit down and work. This is a nice space.
NARRATOR: This all aluminum retro-modern home
simplifies life
and gives Matthew plenty of time for family and friends.
10 miles east of Pittsburgh,
the steel-mill town of Braddock, Pennsylvania,
is in the process of reinventing itself.
Case in point, this abandoned furniture warehouse
now belongs to the mayor.
JOHN: This is our home.
And on the front of it, we had a local artist
re-create a vintage picture postcard
of Braddock from the late 1950s
that greets visitors when they come.
NARRATOR: Braddock mayor John Fetterman
is on the front lines of his city's revitalization efforts.
His repurposed home has three stories,
four bedrooms, two bathrooms, and a yoga studio.
He lives here with his wife, Giselle,
and their two young kids.
So, we're in the downstairs portion of our home.
And during the warmer months, what's really nice
is that we are able to open this garage door
and create, like, an open-air space for us,
and we have the fireplace,
and it's a space that really serves our needs.
It's very, very basic,
but one that we use probably more than any other space
in the home.
Down the hall are the family's bedrooms,
featuring furniture built with scrap materials.
Right here is the bed that was made from reclaimed steel
by the same artist that did a staircase in our home.
And over my right shoulder are our children's bedrooms.
We have our daughter's room, Grace, off here,
and our son's in the back, and they like to switch often.
The fourth bedroom is the guest room on the second floor.
It contains artifacts from the church next door,
and its bathroom includes a walk-in waterfall shower.
Outside the guest suite,
the second floor is where John and Giselle
do most of their entertaining.
The kitchen is open and accessible,
with all steel appliances,
and the spacious living area features tin-roof shingles
and cornices from elsewhere in Braddock.
Also on display are several photographs
with special meaning to John.
I started taking these amateur pictures
with a disposable black-and-white camera
of the condition of some of the buildings and structures
in the community.
NARRATOR: Once a town of 23,000,
today Braddock is home to only 2,100.
The transition meant that many buildings were abandoned,
including the furniture warehouse
that caught John's eye.
JOHN: It was just the perfect-sized structure
to allow me enough space to do what I need to do,
but not too overwhelming.
It was very much a DIY kind of project
when we started it early on.
NARRATOR: And there was plenty of work to occupy John.
Built in the 1950s as a furniture warehouse,
the building eventually became a dumping ground
for a plumbing company before being completely abandoned.
And when we bought it, it was just in terrible shape.
The roof was leaking through so badly
that we had to use kiddie pools to collect the water.
NARRATOR: John repaired those leaking holes,
but he also added a few of his own.
There weren't any windows in the structure at all,
so we had to literally cut, with a diamond saw,
holes for these windows that all miraculously worked.
NARRATOR: Up the reclaimed-steel staircase
in the living room lies another addition --
a special room just for Giselle.
In here, you have our tree house of sorts.
NARRATOR: Built from two decommissioned shipping containers,
the third floor serves as a yoga studio,
as well as providing extra storage.
Giselle and John enjoy the view the deck provides of Braddock,
the town they call home.
JOHN: Being mayor of the community is a real honor and privilege.
Braddock is one of the poorest communities
in the state of Pennsylvania,
but it's also one of the warmest places.
NARRATOR: John sees his home
as a microcosm of Braddock itself --
once abandoned, now lovingly brought back to life.
Inspiration came from within in this medieval dovecote
in Burgundy, France.
We decided to carry very heavy glass
to have a transparent ceiling
so we could see the old beams that are 600 years old.
NARRATOR: Our journey to find the most interesting homes around
has taken us to a windmill in New York
and a historic firehouse.
Burgundy is a well-known agricultural region of France,
dotted with vineyards and farms.
Historically, the area was protected by medieval castles
and manor houses, some of which included a dovecote,
or nesting tower for pigeons and doves.
Irene Lenoir wasn't content with leaving it to the birds,
so she turned one tower into a luxurious living space
with one bedroom, one bathroom, and a living room.
Before she could live in it, though,
it needed a thorough scrub down.
The first job that we had to do took many, many weeks,
and it was to clean all the stones.
NARRATOR: That's because every single hole in the wall
was a nesting spot for a bird.
The dovecote was completely empty,
and the holes were quite deep --
the holes that were the nest for the birds.
NARRATOR: But the nests also provided inspiration.
The birds used to fly in and out through open holes,
which provided Irene an opportunity to add
tiny windows to the space.
LENOIR: When it's sunny outside,
we have beams of sun that comes in.
NARRATOR: The medieval cone ceiling,
one of the dovecote's most impressive features,
was concealed until Irene thought of a way
it could be fully appreciated.
We decided to carry very heavy glass
to have a transparent ceiling so we could see the old beams
that are in really good conditions, actually,
even though it's 600 years old.
NARRATOR: The size of the dovecote is important
because every nest represented a hectare of land.
Irene's dovecote checks in at 1,000 nests,
which is roughly 2.5 acres.
By comparison,
the king's dovecote sported more than 3,000 nests.
So, 1,000 is not too bad. [ Laughs ]
NARRATOR: Not bad at all.
The dovecote is just part of this sprawling estate.
There's also a main house,
now a great room, master suite, and kitchen,
and the nearby barn, which Irene is busy converting
into artist dormitories and studios.
I lived in China for three years.
So when I came back,
I thought it would be nice to present another culture
to the people in the countryside.
NARRATOR: With that in mind,
Irene decked out the castle in Asian art and artifacts,
and she renamed the castle Equivocal Manor,
a nod to the idea of having more than one interpretation
of any given object.
Irene and her mother were the first to turn the manor itself
into a modern living space.
They were careful to preserve all the original details
that reveal glimpses of the past,
like the massive fireplace that dominates the great room
and forms a beautiful backdrop for entertaining.
The home is a posh retreat, merging Asian interpretation
with traditional French architecture.
Those beams are quite impressive 'cause they're really long,
and you wouldn't find beams like this anymore.
NARRATOR: The Equivocal Manor
also has some uncommon defense features,
like cannon windows that are wide on the outside
but tiny on the inside.
This gave the riflemen a panoramic view
and a safe place from which to protect the surrounding farms.
When sipping a glass of Burgundy wine in this medieval dovecote,
it's easy to imagine a jousting tournament about to begin,
but a quick look at the luxury interior
would make anyone feel unequivocally at home.
Less than two blocks from the Georgia Dome in downtown Atlanta
is a neighborhood hangout and music venue,
Elliott Street Pub and Deli.
The bar is owned and operated by brothers Mike and Pete Jakob.
It's also their home.
The lower level in the back of the building
has an open living room with a kitchen and a half bath.
Upstairs are two large bedrooms and two full baths.
The brothers bought the building
to consolidate their homes and construction business.
MIKE: We both had houses.
We were both, you know, single, no kids.
We had a 3,000-square-foot warehouse for our business,
so we had three properties,
so we wanted to get down to one property.
It soon became evident that this building
would foster an entirely new business venture.
After football season came around
and you got 100 people ask you open up a bar,
you open up a bar.
NARRATOR: The bar is decorated with memorabilia and money.
PETE: The dollars were started by friends of ours
that just, you know, wanted to show us a little love,
and everybody started signing dollars,
and it got bigger and bigger,
and, you know, it used to be clear wood,
and now it's covered with money.
I guess we're doing pretty well.
NARRATOR: Back in 1870,
the building started out as a carriage house
for the nearby Atlanta Train Station.
PETE: You can see the little horse-drawn carriages
taking people to hop on the trains,
and in this picture,
we'd be on the left-hand side of the tracks.
NARRATOR: It later became a jazz speakeasy called Dee's Birdcage
that featured the likes of Gladys Knight,
Isaac Hayes, and Curtis Mayfield,
and above the jazz club
were offices for real-estate and insurance companies.
And then it was like that till early '80s,
and then it burned,
and then it stood abandoned and vacant for 25 years.
25 years. Two decades.
NARRATOR: It took all of Mike and Pete's construction expertise
to resurrect the building.
To rebuild this building, we had to reframe it all.
We tore off the roof in thirds.
You know, we'd tear out a third,
and then we'd build a third back,
and then we'd tear out a third and build up a third back,
and we bolted it together to hold it together
'cause it was so old.
NARRATOR: After the roof,
they chiseled off the layers of plaster.
MIKE: It's got to be 10,000 square feet of wall
that we chiseled off.
We hit some hard spots, which we kind of kept,
which made it look cool, and we chiseled the rest of it off.
NARRATOR: After the dust settled,
Mike and Pete transformed it into an open living space
with a kitchen and a sitting area.
This is like our space. This is our alone-time space.
It's where we kind of chill out. It's in the back of the building.
It's quiet. There's no music.
This room also contains clues to the building's former life.
We found all these amazing little coal fireplaces.
Behind me is one of the spots that the chimney ran through.
NARRATOR: Upstairs, one of the fireplaces is evident
in Pete's bedroom.
PETE: It heated the whole house.
It was run by coal.
Up on the top,
there's a vent where the heat would come out from,
and the chimney would go out through the roof.
Coal was readily available in the early 1900s.
NARRATOR: The hallway between the brothers' bedrooms
is a spot where Mike created his own piece of artwork.
We kind of just drew a line around me
and made our own art here.
NARRATOR: They also reclaimed wood to create a new old door.
This is a door that we kind of made out of the old lumber
from the roof trusses,
so we chiseled it down, refinished it,
doweled it, and then hung it.
It's probably about 150 pounds, and it goes into my bedroom.
NARRATOR: Mike's bedroom also has exposed brick,
but in his room, there are scorches from the fire
that left the building vacant for two decades.
The basement is where the building's life
as a carriage house is most evident.
The beam is sloped from back to front.
NARRATOR: The sloped floor made it easier to roll the carriages
out to the street.
And that's pretty predominant in carriage houses
from the early 1900s.
NARRATOR: And there's a curve visible in the wall
where the street level used to be.
When the trolleys came in, they raised the street three feet.
That raised the main-level floor three feet,
and that's what gave the ceiling height
to make this into Dee's Birdcage,
which was the original jazz club that was down here.
You can see where the old bar stools sat and the old bar sat,
and then we built a stage right back where it used to be,
so rumor has it that people like
Curtis Mayfield and Gladys Knight
and all these great jazz and folk and soul singers,
you know, of the '50s and '60s, played here.
NARRATOR: The Jakobs now have their own music venue here,
which they lovingly named 51,
after their address on Elliott Street.
MIKE: We do a lot of jazz here.
We do a lot of funk, a lot of soul,
so it's really kind of cool that, you know,
this place has the vibe of music,
and it brings that out in musicians,
so to keep that going and to keep the bones
and the history of the building going as a jazz place
is awesome.
NARRATOR: This former laundromat in Houston, Texas,
wasn't as clean as you'd expect.
We had it power washed twice, inside and out.
NARRATOR: We're back on our tour
of the most interesting places people call home,
including a dovecote in France
and a collection of R.V.s in California.
Northwest of Houston, Texas,
is the neighborhood of Houston Heights.
It's filled with historic homes, but there are a few modern ones,
as well, like this one-story home
that used to be a laundromat.
When we told our friends that we'd bought a washateria,
they thought we were all going in the washing business.
From 1976 until 2009,
this building served as the Courtesy Washateria.
Now it's home to real-estate agents Bob and Karen Derr,
with a large living area,
a kitchen, two bedrooms, two bathrooms,
and an industrial style the Derrs were anxious to call home.
To me, it's a loft on the ground.
It's a loft on one level.
As Karen and Bob soon realized,
turning a former commercial space into a residential one
wasn't going to be easy.
Ironically, the first challenge was cleaning up the place.
We had it power washed twice, inside and out,
just so we could get that clean palette to look at.
With no interior walls,
they literally started with a blank slate.
They laid out two-by-fours
to designate where the specific rooms would be.
And with the aid of a contractor,
walls were built, and the home began to take shape.
For over four months,
Bob tried to get the utilities hooked up,
but the building's former life caused a lot of confusion.
I called up, and I said, "What's the problem?"
They said, "Well, it's a business."
I said, "No, it's not a business.
We've gone through this several times."
And they said, "Well, on the door, it says, 'Wash, dry, fold.'"
Well, I left that on there
just because I thought it was funny, you know.
But apparently, they didn't think it was too funny,
so I just went and sprayed it off,
and then boom, now we have a residential water contract.
While Bob and Karen now had a one-of-a-kind place,
they, their dog, Gigi, and cat, Chuck, could call home,
they did have to deal with the issue of privacy,
since the building had large windows
that opened to the street.
Our general contractor, Bill, and myself
decided a louvered wall about four feet out
would kind of make a little space out front
where you could put a little table or something
and still let the light come in.
Karen and Bob kept the original floors.
Likewise, exposed rafters,
holes in the ceiling where dryers used to vent,
and the cinder block walls.
This is the living room, dining room.
It's open to the kitchen. We like that.
It's a big room,
but the area where the couch is
is actually kind of cozy, which I like a lot.
You can seat a lot of people here,
but it's very intimate.
One of the modern touches the Derrs installed here
was a gas fireplace with a custom-designed wooden surround.
We really put the fireplace in because our dog liked it.
He loves to lay on that bench in front of it
in the wintertime.
The kitchen played a central role
in Bob and Karen's house design.
Before the walls went up, they installed
a large industrial island to anchor the space.
That theme continues throughout the kitchen,
from the commercial air-conditioning vent overhead
to Bob's photograph printed on metal.
KAREN: I like it.
It's almost like we built the kitchen for this.
Next to the kitchen is an area that Karen and Bob
have dubbed The Internet Cafe.
While it now appears comfy and cozy,
this room required a lot of work.
This was the pit.
When under construction,
there was a huge trench going the whole length of this room,
and you can still see where they filled it in on the floor.
Adjoining this area is the master bedroom.
Because of the issues with letting light in,
it made sense to line up closets at the back of the room
that didn't need windows,
so we have two walk-in closets.
Outside is a small yard
that was underutilized during its washateria days.
Bob and Karen fenced it in
and turned it into a backyard retreat.
We like to live outside, so, you know, I built this.
I couldn't get anyone to come do it.
I wanted it the way I wanted it, so I just built it myself.
Bob and Karen hope they've blazed a trail
for others seeking to create the perfect home.
We just toughed it out, and here we are, so...
It was worth it.
Yeah, it was a lot of fun.
In 1885, the United Presbyterians
built this traditional church in Cottonwood Falls, Kansas.
With its soaring Gothic windows and 18-inch stone walls,
this church was built to last, and it has.
Today, it's home to Steve and Polly Revare.
STEVE: With the way the architecture was of the windows
and the doors,
it was clear that this was a unique place
that we had to look into trying to get.
This converted church is now a comfortable two-story home.
On the first level are two bedrooms, a bathroom,
a spacious kitchen and living room,
and newly added sun room.
Up the stairs to the second-story loft
are two bedrooms, a master bath, and an office.
Although this building is now a comfortable home,
it had several incarnations --
first as a church, then a legion home,
and finally a carpenter's woodworking shop.
That was when the Revares found it, tracked down the owner,
and bought the building.
One of our favorite things that we want to preserve
about the church was its wide-open space.
To enhance that spacious feeling,
Steve and Polly removed the suspended ceiling
and uncovered a lovely surprise.
What we found above it was this beautiful wood,
I think they call it car siding.
We really wanted to restore and preserve
as much of that as we could.
But one of Polly's favorite features
is the original arched church windows.
There are six places in this building
where we have the top of a window on the second floor.
Some of them have stained glass, and some have leaded glass
with another piece of glass over it to protect it,
so it becomes not only a practical way
of covering up a space,
but also becomes a design element.
POLLY: We owed it to the building and to the men
who built the building to do everything we could
to make it as beautiful as it could be.
You get in a little deep, but it was worth it,
and I never regretted a penny that was spent.
I think it's a work of art.
Across the pond in Devon, England,
this couple converted an old goat shed into a modern home.
What was their biggest challenge?
It was made out of mud and straw.
And the next-door neighbors actually phoned to say
that one of the walls had collapsed.
NARRATOR: We visited homes around the world
that were at one time a washateria...
a dovecote... even a windmill.
There has always been more livestock than people
in Devon, England,
so it's not hard to find rustic barns and sheds
if you have an eye for conversions,
which is how this 1850s structure
became this stylish home.
It was a derelict goat shed when we bought it,
and it was literally falling down.
But that didn't scare off Jane and Keith Comer.
When their daughter Claire got married and moved out,
they knew it was time to downsize,
so downsize, they did.
It's about 30-foot long by about 13-foot wide.
The walls really are just mud and straw,
and they are about two-feet thick.
Three of the walls were made of cob,
a mixture of layered mud and straw
common to this part of England,
and one wall was just corrugated steel.
During the nine-month conversion process,
Keith encountered some setbacks
that might be unique to an earthen structure.
We did have a bit of a hiccup.
Before we started,
the next-door neighbors actually phoned to say
that one of the walls had collapsed.
Cob was fine as long as you keep it dry,
but if you let water get into it,
it just turns back into the mud that it started as,
and the roof was in a very poor state when we bought it,
and water got in, and that was the result.
That wasn't the only hiccup, either.
There was so little head room in the tiny goat shed
that they decided to dig out the floor to create more space.
What they discovered was a natural spring.
We had a mini digger inside the building,
taking up the original concrete floor that was there,
and as we went down --
yes, water literally began to spurt out of the floor,
so we piped it away to the nearest stream.
That wasn't the last of their water woes.
The goat shed had no utilities,
and the natural spring was undrinkable,
so they had to drill a well to supply the new indoor plumbing.
What once was a primitive home for goats
is now a charming and completely modernized cottage.
The upstairs features two bedrooms
with en suite bathrooms.
Downstairs lies an open living room and fireplace
with floor-to-ceiling windows that open up to the outdoors.
There's not a lot of windows because in a barn,
they won't let you add new openings
to make new windows from.
The wall at the end
was only clad in galvanized iron when we bought it.
We were allowed to make that all glass.
The kitchen also has all of the modern conveniences,
which was a first for Jane and Keith.
We did thoroughly enjoy furnishing it.
Went around to all the shops and said,
"We like this, and we like that."
It was the first time that we'd furnished a house
with everything new.
When we were married at first,
we had to make do and mend with secondhand stuff.
In a way, Jane and Keith
are still making the most of hand-me-downs
with a house that once was a goat shed,
but you would never know their charming home
had such humble beginnings,
and they were sure to leave enough room
for daughter Claire to come back and visit.
From a Quonset hut to a trailer,
a windmill to a goat shed, these domestic pioneers
have proven that you can take almost any space
and make it home.