Blogger's Warning: This is part two in what I suspect will be a never-ending series of entries about juggling the issues of sustainability, affordability and historic preservation with green building techniques. I apologize in advance for its overly home-centric nature. Rants on various other environmental subjects will return shortly.

After reading my June 20 blog about old houses with green ambitions, my wife asked me what I would do, if we had money, to our house, built in 1916, to make it green.

It was something I've often day-dreamed about. (I know, I need to get a life.)

My first thought was that we could spray cellulose insulation (old newspapers, what could be more appropriate?) in between the brick exterior and the plaster and lathe interior.

But then I started thinking about the equally old "knob and tube" wiring in some parts of the house.

Before rubber insulation came into vogue for electrical wiring -- sometime during Truman's presidency I believe -- wiring was run on two sides of a beam, negative on one side, positive on the other.

The wires are held in place with ceramic "knobs" and often run through "tubes" which are often open, from knob to knob.

When I had local electrician Bud Lightcap come out and take a look at the wiring a few years ago, he said what there was of the knob and tube was in good shape and was just as safe, if not safer, than modern wiring because it kept the two sides separate.

But something tells me surrounding it with flammable cellulose to improve the insulation would do little to improve my fire safety rating.

I suppose the first thing I would do would be to set up photovoltaic solar power cells on the roof and generate my own power on sunny days, running my meter backward, while PECO executives wept bitterly into their beers.

A recent New York Times article, which can be read by clicking here, highlighted a project an old Cape Cod home in Elmsford, NY (near my old stomping grounds) in which many green improvements had been made.

This passage nearly made me drool: "From her new roof, shimmering rows of solar panels send her Consolidated Edison meter running backward, storing energy credits like a squirrel hoarding nuts. Some electricity goes to her basement, powering the geothermal unit of pipes and fans that keeps her century-old house temperate all year long."

And I started thinking, "old Cape Cod?," "century-old house?," hell, that's Pottstown. And folks, believe me, Elmsford is not the garden spot of Westchester. If it can be done there, it can be done here.

The piece also highlighted something I've encountered in my attempts to find a handyman to do small jobs at my house.

Reporter Nicole Neroulias described it well: "The biggest hurdles to turning a gray house green are not lack of awareness, the cost of labor and materials, or the months of construction, but finding contractors willing to do nitty-gritty work on small properties while soliciting approval from town officials."

Needless to say, the owner of this house in Elmsford did not get away cheap.

In fact her architect said in order to afford it, she skipped her intention to buy a BMW.

Seeing as I anticipate no German sports sedans in my future, it looks like an absence of green will keep any attempts to try this at my house green in my mind only.

But then hope appeared on the horizon; hope from, of all places, Harrisburg?!?

On June 27, I wrote a story in The Mercury about a pending bill that would provide grants to owners of historic homes to fix them up. (Unfortunately, due to the high degree of technical expertise we enjoy at The Mercury, I am unable to provide you a link to that story here because by the time you read this, it will have disappeared from our Web site never to be seen again.)

But it seems to me that if I could swing a grant of $15,000 from my friends in Harrisburg (that's the max for a residential property) some of this stuff might be doable, particularly if it could be combined with some grants for using green technology.

Since I'm writing this on June 26 (so I can have some blogs post while I'm on vacation next week. With my readership I can't afford to lose anyone by having old, dried up entries laying around gathering dust) I am not sure if it crossed the finish line with the legislature and Gov. Rendell duking it out in some back budget room.

Although given their past track record, I feel safe in predicting we don't have a budget yet, nevertheless, if it does pass, I'll be the first to thank them ... and then hold out my hand.

So here I thought I could dash off a quickie blog (you readers really are insatiable you know!) about historic preservation, vs. sustainability, vs. energy efficiency and move on.

Sigh.

Instead, it turns out to be as frustratingly complicated as nuclear physics, or code enforcement as the case may be.

So instead, genetically incapable of over-simplifying, I suspect I am going to have to devote several blogs to the subject.

Don’t hate me because I’m compulsive (and let me know if I’m boring you.)

The way I look at it, this is all Tom Hylton’s fault.

Most Pottstown readers know the name and it was after interviewing Tom several times on a variety of subjects over the years that I came to understand, piece by piece, the philosophy behind his landmark book, “Save Our Land, Save Our Towns.”

Then I went and read it and, imagine, my understanding improved!

If you are unfamiliar, it’s easy enough to find on the Web – saveourlandsaveourtowns.org – and there you will find the basics.

Having grown up in a little village in New York, where the post office, deli, library, grade school and pizzeria were all less then a block away and required no gasoline to reach, I have watched with dismay our open spaces being consumed by redundant shopping malls and “McMansions.”

What I didn’t realize, when it came time for my wife and I to buy a house ourselves, was how much I had been programmed by advertising and the choices of my peers to want one myself.

Then I met Tom, who helped me see what I’m ashamed to admit I should already have known: That towns and country are the two natural states for human communities that have evolved over the centuries and the thing that tries to be both -- suburbs – are really just an aberration invented after World War II by former soldiers who had been trained to believe that everything can be compartmentalized.

But you don’t just buy a house with your head, and the urge to look at new construction was much stronger than I had anticipated.

Luckily, there’s plenty of blame to spread around here in Pottstown. I also happily blame Sue Krause.

Tom got my head, but Susie got my heart.

The house in that New York village having been an old one (built before the Civil War), I was pre-destined to appreciate older homes – particularly the craftsmanship I am (also genetically) incapable of re-producing myself.

One trip on the Historic Pottstown by Candlelight tour, or whatever it is Susie's organization, the Historic Neighborhood Association, calls their most excellent Christmas-time tradition, and my wife and I realized how much we would love to own a beautiful historic home – and that in Pottstown, we could actually afford it.

We were hooked.

Which brings us (the long way) back to the subject at hand.

How green are old buildings?

I’ve already blogged (I can’t believe that’s a verb now) about air conditioning and we’ll return to it when it gets hot again and on our minds. (Thanks to my three responders)

We’ll also get to things like replacement windows and heating systems at some point. (This whole blogging thing is not well-planned out people so cut me some slack. I have a real job you know!)

But I was taken recently, through a link in a Seattle Post-Intelligencer story, to an interesting point raised by someone named Knute Berger.

In an article -- http://crosscut.com/mossback/14832/Unsustainable+Seattle/f -- he wrote the following when writing about replacing old buildings with “green” buildings.

“But rarely do they factor in what is called ‘embodied energy,’ which is the energy used to build something in the first place. A building is the physical manifestation of all the carbon used to create it in the first place. Tear it down, you not only have a solid waste problem with all the debris (about 30 percent of waste comes from construction and demolition debris), but you waste all that embodied energy.”

He, in turn, quotes an expert named Donovan Rypkema, who gave a speech in Seattle which included the following: “Razing historic buildings results in a triple hit on scarce resources. First, we’re throwing away thousands of dollars of embodied energy. Second, we’re replacing it with materials vastly more consumptive of energy. What are most historic houses built from? Brick, plaster, concrete and timber. (Certainly true of my house here in Pottstown). What are among the least energy consumptive materials? Brick, plaster, concrete and timber. What are major components of new buildings? Plastic, steel, vinyl and aluminum. What are among the most energy consumptive of materials? Plastic, steel, vinyl and aluminum. Third, recurring embodied energy savings increase dramatically as a building stretches over 50 years. You’re a fool or a fraud if you say you are an environmentally conscious builder and yet are throwing away historic buildings, and their components.”

Adds Berger: “When you calculate embodied energy and building longevity, Rypkema says, it makes sense to save a less energy-efficient building that lasts 100 years, than a 24 percent more-energy-efficient building that will last only 40 years. And much new construction, as you may have noticed, is not built to last.”
Now THAT, is a truly interesting perspective, at least from my perspective; that fixing up old buildings is actually recycling of the highest order.

What do you think?

I’d like to continue this conversation.