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 Demolition in Boulder. Photo by Chris H. Galbraith  North Boulder is experiencing a surge of scrape-offs that irks some longtime residents, who don’t like the neighborhood’s changing character. Others say it’s a family’s right to build the home of their dreams on their own property. Photo by Greg Roller  Attaining the best possible views is one factor contributing to scrape-offs and pop-ups in Boulder’s older neighborhoods. Photo by Greg Roller  This south Boulder scrape-off tripled the size of the original ranch home and vexed the next-door neighbor, who says his view was destroyed, and possibly his home’s resale value. Photo by Ron Forth  Boulder resident Carolyn Kerschner says her Flatirons view and privacy were spoiled by a three-story scrape-off across the street. She believes you should consult neighbors, as she did, if you plan to build or remodel a home that might impinge on their privacy or views. Photo by Greg Roller House graph courtesy Boulder County |
Home&Garden feature article fall 06
As many older homes fall to the wrecking ball, some neighborhoods find themselves at odds over scrape-offs. by Lisa Marshall Scrape-offs. Pop-ups. Monster additions. McMansions. Just mention those words to anyone who has lived in Boulder more than a few years and you’ll likely unleash a torrent of emotional complaints, about everything from construction noise and obstructed views to the loss of the quaint character that drew them here in the first place. “I watched what had been a relaxed and funky neighborhood turn into this upscale place with all these huge homes,” says Evelyn Kaye, a Boulder writer who left her home in New Jersey for the eclectic and affordable Newlands neighborhood in 1991. A decade later, she watched with trepidation as bulldozers swept away a cute little house on a large corner lot, replacing it with two enormous ones. “That was the beginning,” recalls Kaye, who ultimately sold her house and moved out of the neighborhood. “The earth movers were forever in the land.” According to the city of Boulder’s records, 2005 was yet another banner year for large home remodels, with the city issuing more than 631 permits for additions, alterations and conversions, totaling more than $33 million in construction costs. More permits were issued to tear down existing homes than to build brand-new ones, with 89 single-family houses falling to the wrecking ball, often to make way for homes triple the original size. At a time when raw land is scarce and the nation’s appetite for large homes seems insatiable, Boulder is certainly not alone in facing the phenomenon of super-sized homes. In Denver, more than 800 tear-downs have occurred since 2003, according to the National Trust for Historic Preservation, with many 1920s and ’30s bungalows scraped to make way for behemoth replacements. In San Mateo County, Calif., 450 older homes were scraped and replaced between 2000 and 2005. In Dallas, more than a thousand early 20th-century homes have been done away with, often to make way for 5,000- to 10,000-square-foot replacements. Just how to deal with the trend is perplexing for everyone, from expanding families who want to update their home without alienating the folks next door to the disgruntled neighbors and the government officials trying to walk a precarious line between protecting property rights and preserving neighborhood character. In 2003, Boulder city planners tried to address the divisive issue head-on, proposing a host of potential solutions, including design review of large homes, notification of neighbors for homes over a certain square footage, and outright limits on size. But in the end, the City Council opted for one relatively modest change: to limit the lot percentage, or “floor-area ratio” (FAR), that a house can gobble up. The maximum FAR was set at 0.8, which city planners concede still allows for a fairly large house (on a 6,000-square-foot lot, you could have 4,800 square feet of house above ground). At the time, it seemed like the right decision, says former Boulder mayor Will Toor. “The community was very broadly split on whether this was a problem that required government regulation, or whether this was a property right that homeowners had,” Toor says. “We thought the floor-area ratio change would help to prevent the things people think of as truly monstrous homes.” Still, there are some limits to what a person can do with their lot in the city. Height restrictions, setbacks and the city’s solar access ordinance (which prohibits one house from excessively shading another) all dictate what can be built. When it comes to scrape-offs, homeowners must secure a demolition permit if they knock down 50 percent or more of the wall or roof area, or remove a wall that faces the street. And, if a house was built more than 50 years ago, that demolition permit may be subject to review by the Landmark Preservation Advisory Board, which can issue a 180-day demolition stay if it has concerns. In some cases, neighborhood covenants may influence what can and cannot be done to a house. But the city does not step in to enforce them. And, in many cases, areas most besieged by the scrape-off, pop-up phenomena are post-World War II–era neighborhoods too new to be protected by historic designation and too old to have been built in the age of strict covenants. Eyesore or Entitlement? Neighbors often complain to the city about large home additions gobbling up yards, obscuring views and creating eyesores that don’t fit in, says Susan Richstone, acting long-range planner for the city of Boulder. But if the property owner is complying with city regulations, the city’s hands are tied. The bottom line, she says: “Your neighbors don’t get to tell you how to build your house.” Perhaps not, says Boulder homeowner Carolyn Kerschner. But if you plan on living next to your neighbors for a while, it might be worth asking their opinion. In recent years Kerschner found herself on both sides of the controversy. As her family grew to include twin daughters, Kerschner and her husband, John, gradually tore down the majority of their own home just east of Mount Sanitas, transforming it from a small 1920s bungalow to a spacious, but tasteful, 3,000-square-foot home. They tried to make it blend with the neighborhood character, even going so far as to show their next-door neighbors the plans before they broke ground. Initially, the plans included a large deck to the east. “The neighbors said they didn’t like it because we would be up above them, looking down,” Kerschner says. “They were right, so we didn’t do it.” Instead, the Kerschners built a grassy yard with a flagstone patio, surrounded by a 6-foot privacy fence. They were thrilled to complete the addition last December. But standing on her patio on a recent balmy afternoon, Kerschner grimaced as she pointed to a giant mauve, three-story scrape-off going up across the street. Because those neighbors brought in mounds of fill to make way for a basement, the top floor of the house is now so tall it’s completely obliterated the Kerschners’ once glorious Flatirons views. And, as for privacy: “They can now just sit right there on their front porch and look down into our yard,” Kerschner says. “I want them to know how inconsiderate it was.” Marion Mackay, an in-house designer for Melton Construction Inc. in Boulder, which built the Kerschners’ addition, says there are times when a scrape-off is inevitable. Sometimes the old house is so energy inefficient that the only option is to tear it down and start anew. Often, it may be in such bad shape that it can’t be repaired. In other cases, setbacks and certain city codes make it harder to add on to an existing home than to knock it down and start over. But whether it’s a scrape-off, pop-up or just a large addition, Mackay says it can be done without disrupting neighborhood character. “At the very beginning, I look around the neighborhood and try and design to make it in keeping with that.” Toor, who is now a Boulder County commissioner, says the problem is clearly growing elsewhere in the county as well. In a way it’s worse, he says, because restrictions like setbacks and FARs don’t limit size very much when you’re working with a 5-acre or 35-acre lot. In 1990, not a single house constructed in unincorporated Boulder County was larger than 10,000 square feet. So far this year, there have been eight. Of the permits issued to date this year, 45 percent are for houses in excess of 7,500 square feet. “In the county, we do see some truly gigantic houses,” Toor says. “You end up with homes with really enormous visual impact.” That, combined with the amount of energy required to power those homes and the number of vehicle trips likely generated by the army of workers needed to maintain them, has Toor particularly concerned. As the county revises its own land use code this fall, he says the reining in of monster homes is sure to rank high on the commissioners’ agenda.
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Indeed.
