In the game of extra-local housing politics, call the proposed housing renovation you don’t like a McMansion

Cases like these happen frequently: a homeowner wants to enlarge their existing home. (This is a different but related ballgame to cases of teardowns.) If the neighbors don’t like it, there is common tactic they can use: dub it a McMansion.

The commission unanimously voted Oct. 9 to allow the homeowner to keep a permit to build a 2,692-square-foot single-family residence on the property located on Huntridge Lane. The project property is located in a standard zoning district, which permits two-story homes up to 28 feet in height. The project was initially approved by the city’s community development director on Aug. 23.

However, the city received several letters, emails and telephone calls from neighbors voicing concerns about the project, with issues ranging from concerns about privacy to the compatibility of the proposed two-story residence in a predominantly single-story neighborhood, as well as the size, bulk, height and mass of the project.

During the public hearing, one neighbor referred to the home as a “monster house” or “McMansion,” and others suggested reducing the scale of project.

City staff stated that the project is consistent with all aspects of the R1 zoning ordinance and other related city ordinances. In addition, the project was not subject to design review by the city since the proposed second floor is less than 66 percent of the square footage of the first floor and there are 15-foot side yard setbacks on either side of the second floor.

It sounds like the homeowner followed the zoning guidelines in the community and made some adjustments to cut back on the project when asked by the city. But, the McMansion tag used by opponents can be quite effective: it suggests the home is garish and unnecessary. It puts the owners and/or builder in a bad light as it suggests they are not looking out for the interests of others. While 2,692 square foot is not that big since the average new home is the US is around 2,500 square feet, it is larger than the surrounding homes which look to be (on Zillow) around 1,200 square feet without any additions. In the end, calling it a McMansion wasn’t enough in this case in Cupertino, California but the same tactic will be used again elsewhere. It would be interesting to see if the neighbors opposed to the project continue to call the particular home a McMansion in the years to come.

Through the magic of Google Street View, you can check out Huntridge Lane in Cupertino, California. The street is about one block and 13 houses long. It looks like (and Zillow also suggests) the homes were built in the early 1960s as single-story ranches. As the news article notes, several homes in the area already have second story additions. Also, Zillow suggests (and this could be a ways off) the homes on this block are worth around a million dollars. Is this one proposed addition, the so-called McMansion, really a threat? Perhaps this should lead to a new maxim: all housing politics are extra-local (usually within a few minute walk in each direction).

Claim: McMansions are part of what defines Austin, Texas

This was interesting to see: a columnist argues Austin, Texas is partly defined by its McMansions.

Various quirks are used as examples of what makes Austin special: all those waiters who have Ph.D.s, the amazing number of restaurants on wheels, the traffic jams on Interstate 35 that can run for miles, the nose rings, the iPhone people texting each other from across the room, the McMansions, the California transplants, the allergies, the sneezing … name your favorite.

The doesn’t seem to fit the common story about Austin which has a reputation as a cool and up and coming city. It is home to SXSW, the creative class, the flagship campus of the University of Texas system, and a number of tech companies. So who let in the poorly designed, possibly Republican, neighborhood-destroying McMansions? (These are just some of the critiques leveled

Interestingly, Austin has had some public discussions about McMansions. For example, Austin passed a “McMansion ordinance” which I blogged about last year. Perhaps this has been driven by the influx of new (and wealthier?) residents who want to partake of Austin’s older neighborhoods but also want modern homes.

Argument: McMansions are turning Queens into Brooklyn

A writer argues Queens, New York is being ruined by McMansions:

Then one day, the McMansions came roaring in. Progress! People cut down trees, bricked up laws and built their houses right up to the property line. Children started “playing” on their computers indoors. They started getting heavier as the utility companies grew richer because oversized homes use a lot more energy than smaller homes with trees close by to shade them. I sure hope the utility companies are sending those McMansion owners holiday greeting cards to thank them for their extra business. I’d say they owe them at least that much.

More and more, green lawns in Queens are transforming into the cement sidewalks of Brooklyn. One of the reasons that Queens homeowners are paving their lawns is because the multiple families dwelling in those roomy McMansions are creating a shortage of parking spaces. What’s the solution? Pave your lawn so you can transform it into a front driveway. Or, maybe they don’t like grass. Why move to Queens then? There’s always Brooklyn. Brooklyn already has lots of cement sidewalks. They even have cafes! Wouldn’t it be easier to find a setting that suits your needs than dwelling in a setting you have to transform?

This is not my neck of the woods but I have a few thoughts about this:

1. It sounds like there are a lot of teardown McMansions in Queens.

2. Blaming McMansions for the rising weight of children seems silly. Only kids who live in McMansions are sitting inside more?

3. I wonder if it is really McMansions that are the issue here or that change is coming to Queens. The main point of the argument is that this writer doesn’t want Queens to be like Brooklyn. Presumably, it should remain distinct which includes having different kinds of housing. McMansions could be just a symptom of larger concerns about neighborhood change.

Battle in Redlands, California over teardown McMansion

There is an involved public battle taking place in Redlands, California between one homeowner and his neighbors as the neighbors try to stop his proposed teardown:

Monte Vista Estates residents lost another round in their fight against a neighbor who plans to tear down his house and build a larger one that will block their views of the San Bernardino Valley and mountains…

Hunt and the neighbors referred to McMansions — a derogatory term for oversized luxury homes — while discussing Canada’s project. They said the house, though it meets city zoning requirements, would begin a major change in the ranch-style neighborhood as houses are remodeled to reclaim their views.

Hunt told Canada that she values the rights of property owners but said she did not understand why he would want a house so much taller. His existing house has one of the best views in the neighborhood, she said…

Biggs said allowing such a large home — neighbors estimate it at 3,800 square feet — in an older, established neighborhood goes against Redlands’ pattern of preserving historic homes and older neighborhoods.

“The impetus for the Historic and Scenic Resource ordinance was to prevent that kind of shift from what we have, which is so different from the rest of the world … to the McMansion approach where you build to the absolute limits of the zoning ordinance,” Biggs said.

Two interesting points here:

1. As I’ve noted before, when neighbors or opponents of a particular home want to drive home their point, using the term “McMansion” is quite effective. I can’t think of any other term for such a house that would be so effective as it ties the homeowner to all sorts of negative ideas such as bad taste and excess.

2. Biggs’ comment about “the McMansion approach” is revealing. Indeed, my study of the use of the word McMansion found of times when references to McMansions was really about something bigger and not just one way: a way of life involving sprawl or excessive consumption. Living a McMansion life might include (and these are examples of how the term McMansion was applied to other objects) having a large RV, building a large mausoleum or headstone in a cemetery, and eating ice cream at Cold Stone Creamery. In this point of view, McMansions may simply be emblematic of a negative American lifestyle.

San Francisco neighbors of Twitter founder don’t want his teardown house

Even people with lots of money can run into problems when they want to build a teardown McMansion:

Williams bought the $2.9m property – hardwood floors, an open plan salon and four bedrooms with breathtaking views over three storeys – last year. It was built in 1915 by the architect Louis Christian Mullgardt and was listed in city records as a “potential historic resource”.

Earlier this year Williams, 40, and his wife Sara revealed plans to demolish the house and, with the help of architectural firm Lundberg Design, build a 7,700 sq ft successor into a slope. It would be 20ft lower than its predecessor and be a “zero net energy” home using solar panels, a green roof and sun-friendly windows.

Even before the application was submitted to city planners, neighbours and critics from as far afield as Canada had filed form letters of protest, a backlash which in another medium might have been called trending. “This is such a unique property and it adds diversity of architectural interest to the neighborhood,” wrote one neighbour, Elizabeth Wang. “It would be criminal to demolish it.”

Some accused Williams of plotting to erect a McMansion. “A complete teardown of such a home would … set the stage for numerous future demolitions that will alter the character of our beloved SF Neighborhoods,” one group, Friends of Parnassus Heights, wrote to the real estate blog SocketSite…

Not all agree. Williams’s defenders, such as property site Sfcurbed.com, said Mullgardt was an “architectural footnote” and that in any case his original design was ruined by a 1970s remodelling. “It may have once been charming, but … has been stripped of its dignity and details over the decades, subdivided into apartments and then rebuilt by architect Thomas Eden in what’s best described as faux-Frank Lloyd Wright with trapezoidal windows.”

Is it still NIMBY if a person in Canada is objecting to a possible house in San Francisco?

It appears that even the green features of the home will not mollify some of the neighbors. If the house can’t/won’t be saved, is there anything Williams could do to make the new home palatable to the neighbors? I wonder if Williams has made any efforts to reach out to the neighborhood. What about an ultra-green house that is built in a similar style to the existing homes?

Of course, one way to avoid these situations or to at least make more clear the process by which changes to homes can be made is to declare the area a historic preservation district. If a majority of neighbors are indeed against new houses, perhaps this is the way to go.

 

Changing sets in “Clybourne Park” from a nice 1959 house to a home ready to be knocked down for a McMansion

The play Clyboune Park is on Broadway and just won a 2012 Tony Award for Best Play. In going from Act 1 to Act 2, the play shifts from a house in 1959 to the same home 50 years later that is ripe for a McMansion teardown:

That’s because Clybourne Park is a biting, funny riff on Lorraine Hansberry’s classic play A Raisin in the Sun, one that takes place in the house that Hansberry’s African-American characters purchase in an otherwise all-white neighborhood. It’s talked about, but never seen, in her play, but it’s the fulcrum of the conversations in Clybourne Park.

“The first act is in 1959, in sort of an Eisenhower-era middle class/working class household,” Ostling explains. “The people are packing up to move. And in the second act, it’s 2009. The neighborhood sort of went down, the house is trashed, and they’re preparing to raze it and build a McMansion. So it’s really two completely different sets.”

In the first act, the set has a cozy, lived-in feel — from the flowery 1950s wallpaper to the period doorknobs. When the curtain rises for Act 2, most of the details have changed significantly.

“All the woodwork is painted over,” Ostling says. “The front door has been replaced — because we were thinking, you know, they probably wanted more security, so that nice wood-and-glass front door is replaced with a security door that has some serious bolts in it.”

During intermission, the set has to be changed very, very quickly; a crew of five swings walls in a highly coordinated intermission ballet. When they first rehearsed the changeover, it took 30 or 40 minutes. Now, Ostling says, “We’re not waiting for the crew at all. We’re waiting for people to go to the bathroom!”

The home may be the same but much has changed between 1959 and 2009, both in American neighborhoods as in what Americans expect in their interiors. I would be interested to see what the “ready to be razed for a McMansion” interior look is these days – probably not much granite and stainless steel.

I’ve always been intrigued by how homes are portrayed on TV, in movies, and in plays. On one hand, they are typically depicted as “average” places. Of course, this look is very staged and I’m not sure these homes really look like typical homes. Yet, they always feel a little strange already as you know they are often cutaway all along one angle to allow for cameras. You know what this is like if you have seen a play or gone on a TV set where the interior looks a little familiar but is completely open with plenty of room for cameras and lights.

Two common uses of the word McMansion: to describe teardowns, tied to larger issues of consumption

Earlier this week, I ran across two articles from two major newspapers that illustrate two of the definitions of McMansions.

1. The term McMansion can often refer to teardowns. In the Chicago Tribune, an interesting overview of teardowns in several North Shore communities in the Chicago suburbs uses the term this way:

Critics often pair “tear-down” with the pejorative term “McMansion,” coined more than 15 years ago to describe quickly built, super-sized structures that replace more modest homes. Some neighbors complain that once a home is torn down, there is seldom an effort to blend its replacement with the surroundings…

But now tear-downs seem to be rebounding. Last year, the village [of Winnetka] issued 28 demolition permits. Through March of this year, the village received 10 applications for permits, according to Ann Klaassen, a village planning assistant…

The factors behind the new upswing have changed from a decade ago, when developers and speculators were driven by easy profits. Tear-downs now seem to be the result of the foreclosures that left homes deteriorating.

Whatever the cause, Follett says tear-downs threaten the North Shore’s historic housing stock.

But builders call it a positive sign of an economy finally getting back on its feet, and argue that many buyers just prefer new homes over renovation jobs.

The key here is that teardown = McMansion plus the term McMansion is used as an effective piece of negative rhetoric. This is quite a different idea than a McMansion being built on a cul-de-sac in an exurb. These North Shore communities have a long history and an aging housing stock. The battle over teardowns is taking place in many communities across the United States and one tool at the disposal of preservationists and those who wish to avoid this architecturally incongruent new homes is to label them McMansions.

2. In contrast, an op-ed column in the New York Times about obesity and eating habits in the United States ties McMansions to other objects of excessive consumption:

I lived in Western Europe—in Rome—for two years. And I happen to be in Western Europe—in Lisbon—as I write. And in this part of this continent there’s a different attitude and set of signals about the appropriate amount of food a person should eat than there are in America.

In restaurants and at dinner parties here, portions are much, much smaller. And, seeing them, no one cries foul about insufficient value or inadequate hospitality. We Americans somehow imprinted our nation’s historical and famous “bigger-is-better” mentality onto the way we eat. Our Costco purchases and our supersized meals mirror our S.U.V.s and McMansions: they’re assertions of wealth and expressions of comfort through sheer size.

This matters. Because if, indeed, our evolutionary nature is to grab and gorge on food when it’s there, then we’re best served in the current era of abundance by cultural cues that try to condition us in the opposite direction.

This is a common argument: American culture promotes the idea “bigger is better” and this applies even to our food. But particularly interesting to me is the link between McMansions, Costco, supersized fast food meals, and SUVs. When this argument is made, these objects often are placed together, perhaps to show how pervasive this American mentality is: it covers where we live, what we eat, what we drive, and where we shop. In other words, McMansions are an easy to spot symbol of a larger American issue of excessive consumption.

Overall, I would argue that these are just two of the meanings of the word McMansion. These two articles do illustrate the idea that when people use the term McMansion they don’t necessarily mean the same thing.

Discussion over “Prairie Modern” McMansions in the Atlanta suburbs

A historian discusses “Prairie Modern” McMansions that have been built in the Atlanta suburb of Decatur:

For the past several years Decatur architect Eric Rawlings has been designing homes in a style he describes as “Prairie Modern.” Rawlings considers the eight Frank Lloyd Wright-inspired homes to be among the best examples in his portfolio. Others in Decatur’s Oakhurst neighborhood call them out-of-place McMansions. All but one of the Prairie Modern homes have been built at teardown sites, single-family residential lots where smaller homes were demolished to make way for the Prairie Moderns…

Rawlings defends his Prairie Modern design and he strongly disagrees that his Prairie Modern homes are McMansions. He left this comment in a 2011 blog post:

I have over 60 built projects in Oakhurst alone and only 8 are Prairie Style, only 22 are New Construction. I have about 40 renovations, many of which preserve the original building with a minor addition not even visible from the street. KC Boyce’s house is only 2100sf with 4 beds and hardly a McMansion by the actual definition. Susan Susanka, author of the Not So Big House, invented the term McMansion and would completely disagree with your interpretation of the definition. His 2 story house with low slope roof is barely taller than the houses near it with steeper roofs. The house on the left is sitting more than 6ft lower because of grade elevations. Scale does not mean height or floor area. It refers to the proportion and size of the pieces and parts that make up the structure. A simplistic two story cube is out of scale compared to a one story house made of smaller forms. A larger house made of the same sized pieces and parts is in Scale with a smaller house made of the same size pieces and parts. The Fayetteville house is 25ft tall, 10ft shorter than the Decatur Zoning limit of 35ft. [Copy pasted as received.]

Despite Rawlings’s assertions that his Prairie Moderns are not McMansions, they are more than twice the size of the homes they replaced. They are also larger than neighboring homes that are contemporaneous to the ones torn down. And, they draw from an architectural vocabulary that is out of character with the community. All attributes that conform to the National Trust for Historic Preservation’s definition of a McMansion.

Lots of interesting pictures of homes to illustrate the argument. Several things are worth commenting on:

1. Susan Susanka did not invent the term McMansion. The term dates roughly to the late 1980s.

2. There seems to be some discussion of what exactly constitutes a McMansion:

2a. The historian draws from a definition from the National Trust for Historic Preservation and it seems that the teardown dimension is big here: these houses are bigger than the surrounding homes.

2b. But there is an architectural congruity issue as well: Prairie style homes don’t fit in this particular community. This amuses me: the Prairie style is well-known in the Chicago area because of Frank Lloyd Wright’s work in Oak Park and Chicago and you could find a number of “Prairie Moderns” in the region. I suppose this style is tied to Prairie regions (Midwest) but wouldn’t the Prairie style make more sense than stucco houses in the Atlanta area? Of course, one could argue that neither style or perhaps any “foreign” styles are appropriate.

3. Adding to the intrigue is that one of the “Prairie Moderns” won an award from Decatur for “Sustainable Design and Energy Efficiency.” So perhaps not everyone has an issue these homes. If so, this would be common in teardown situations: you can often find people arguing for newer homes and owners being able to do what they want for their property and others arguing that new houses should have some architectural congruency with the existing neighborhood and that there should be some design guidelines or standards (perhaps through the creation of a historic preservation district).

h/t Curbed National

Regulating teardown McMansions in the Boston suburbs

The town of Sharon, Massachusetts is having a classic discussion regarding teardown McMansions:

Although any architectural style can be part of the large-house phenomenon, the typical structure that draws concern has a high roof line and sits closer to the property line than the one it replaced. Whether the problem is purely aesthetic or a more practical one of blocked views and bright outdoor lighting, some people dislike a house that dwarfs the rest of the neighborhood. Call it McMansion backlash.

A few Boston-area communities, including Cohasset and Wellesley, have imposed special regulations on new houses over a certain size, and now the town of Sharon is considering doing the same…

Typical discussion. Some people want the right to sell their home to whomever wants to buy it and people should be able to do what they want with their property. Others argue that the character of neighborhoods are changing, older residents may be priced out of the neighborhood by rising property taxes, and the bigger homes are ugly or too large.

Since this is a common story, I wonder how many communities prepare for this situation beforehand. On one hand, perhaps this seems like a waste of time – if it is not a problem, why bother spending time addressing the issue? Certain communities may never really have to deal with teardowns because the property is not that valuable and the community is far away from urban areas. On the other hand, many suburbs could be in this position, particularly with calls for redevelopment and a growing interest in being closer to work or amenities. Why not have some regulations on the books before it turns into a contentious public discussion? Once things start changing and the land is so valuable that there are people willing to offer big money for older homes, it is harder to slow the process.

An added bonus of having this discussion early on would be that it could a rare moment for community members to discuss what they really want the community and its neighborhoods to look like in the future. Without these clear plans, communities tend not to discuss these things until something drastic or large pops up and then people become passionate. Planning ahead could both save some trouble and also allow residents and leaders to be proactive in setting guidelines and ideals.

When a devastating wildfire leads to the construction of McMansions

Here is brief mention of a situation when McMansions were built after a devastating wildfire:

Although dwarfed by other natural disasters, and probably forgotten by people without Bay Area connections, the Oakland Hills Fire 20 years ago killed 25 (many of them trapped in their cars, trying to escape), injured 150 and burned down more than 3,000 homes and 450 apartments and condos. The property damage has been estimated at $1.7 billion—the same (in today’s dollars) as the Great Chicago Fire of 1871. Overnight, a hillside brush fire was transformed into a major conflagration by a sudden “Diablo wind” that rose within minutes to 70 miles per hour and 100 feet high. Defying more than a thousand firefighters from all over the state, the winds (including flame-generated whirlwinds) hurled fire, flint and embers in a dozen different directions. At their peak, the flames were exploding 10 houses a minute—600 in the first hour alone. Sparks leapt over an eight-lane freeway. In two days, two square miles of wood-framed houses among the trees, built on steep slopes and narrow, winding roads (to capture the great views of San Francisco), had been reduced to a no-man’s-land of white ash and crumbled debris, pierced by dark spikes of leafless tree trunks among surviving stone steps and totemic chimney towers.

It is this ghostly, lifeless afterworld that Mr. Misrach captured by setting up his view camera along the empty streets of this miniature version of Dresden or Hiroshima a week or so after the fire. There are no people in his pictures; no cars except burned-out hulks with melted windows.

The first images I focused on were the remains of the burned trees. In most cases, only the hard, black, sharp centers of their trunks remained. Mr. Misrach found many ways of making these spiky shapes eloquent and expressive…

In the years since the fire, most of the empty lots have been filled with new houses, even if most of the residents from 1991 have left. Many of the rebuilders used their settlements to build new McMansions two or three times the size of the houses that were lost. The trees around them will take another 50 years to grow back. The handsome old houses of the Oakland hills are not what they were. But Mr. Misrach has captured the precise moment when one world ended and another began.

This is a unique situation compared to the typical complaints about McMansions that are built within an established neighborhood. In this case, a fire wiped out the existing neighborhood, wiping the slate clean. I would guess that the homes that were built after the fire would have been difficult, perhaps even impossible, to build before the fire. Additionally, this wasn’t just valuable land but also land on the sides of hills that had commanding views but could also probably be seen from a distance as well.

I imagine there could be a very interesting story to tell about these new homes and how the new neighborhood came to be.