This week, instead of some kind of theme, or bit of news, or pre-conceived story to tell, I decided to just pick out some random houses for sale – and see if the houses themselves told a story.
Did that work?
Well, sort of. If you gaze into the abyss of lower-priced Pittsburgh homes for sale (and rent), a grimy, sooty layer of 20th century history isn’t far below the surface. And the latter half of that century was pretty grim for the city. The steel industry died, people coped the best they could or got out, leaving behind a legacy of unwanted, very cheap, old houses.
The brain is a pattern-recognition machine, looking for patterns everywhere — even in a digital parade of aluminum awnings and Insulbrick cladding. In Pittsburgh housing, patterns are amusing at first. Then, a little melancholy starts to seep in.
That spectral layer of accumulated history that clings to houses in Pittsburgh is seldom comforting or reassuring. Things can and do fall apart, leaving behind only the sagging frames of lonely houses clinging to the hillsides.
And yet … those houses were built to last, made with a deft, efficient craftsmanship and care that is all but lost today. They just need to find new stories to go inside.
BEECHVIEW
For sale: 1821 Tonopah Ave., $184,900
It’s maybe a sign of looking at too many of these homes for some kind of deeper meaning, but this house looks unutterably sad to me. Somewhere between the airbrushed picture of “PAPA” on the wall and the Paw Patrol sheets and a lonesome, antique organ (?) — but now I feel like I know these people and feel their absence, somehow. Anyway, hats off to the persistently-blanding influence of real estate agents and their love of neutral-gray interiors. I get it now. Hey, this is a nice house for a nice price, and somebody seemed to have lived at least part of a happy life here.
Uh oh, now I’m imagining that the seller is composing an ultra-low-budget film noir with these odd angles and curiously composed shots. Why are these weird things — narrow passageways, prominent numbers — featured on purpose? Are they clues? Wait, is that a Dutch angle (a filmmaking technique to convey tension/unease)? Why would anyone shoot their house — that they presumably want to rent — in this weird way? Can we do this all the time? (Do I need a vacation?)
For sale: 4019 Oswald St., Brighton Heights, $180,000
Black and green are bold choices for a house, and the green kitchen cabinets inside clearly carry this concept to its logical conclusion. The rest of it is the usual neutral-gray shell, but someone clearly had a thing for forest green. For four bedrooms of renovated 1905 vintage house in a sleepy corner of the North Side, $180,000 is pretty good. I think we can let accept some unexpected outbreaks of green for that price.
For rent: 2700 California Ave., Marshall-Shadeland, $1,200/month
Another seldom-noticed corner of the North Side, another cozy apartment for a not-terrible rent. According to the map you’re close to Brunot Island — and who knows what goes on there? (My guess is that all the beloved Things That Aren’t There Anymore in fact went here). This is a case of leaving the previous occupant’s stuff as-is — from pet furniture to Arsenal bedspread — and it just looks pleasantly lived-in and semi-inviting, and not unnerving.
For sale: 62 Rostock St., Spring Hill, $75,000
This curiously Cyclopean abode — yes, that window is looking at you like one giant eyeball — has probably seen some things, as you’d expect for something built in 1935. And the fact that the price was recently cut by $25,000 is a sign that some of those things were bad. But, $75,000 for a house in this day and age is still kind of wild, even if the street looks like it was created for Jeremy Renner to chew on pensively in a tale of crime and bad choices. Yes, a house like this requires a little faith — that tomorrow will be better than the past — and a bet with real money on that faith. But there are certainly worse ways to spend $75,000.
For rent: 3613 California Ave., Brighton Heights, $1,250/month
Brighton Heights continues winning as a place with old-Pittsburgh charm and old-Pittsburgh rents — not a common thing nowadays. This is a typical Pittsburgh Frankenstein-like creation piecing together 19th-century commercial construction and 1970s façade-remuddling, but it works in this instance. There’s even a nice little coffee shop a few doors down instead of a nuisance bar, that serves things like Acai Bowls and bagel sandwiches instead of domestic beer and nothing. Usually, that’s a sign rents are going to skyrocket, but Brighton Heights seems to be built different.
