I lived at this garage apartment twice. Once in 1992 or 93 and again for only a month in 1998. I always thought it was cute. Built in 1929 it had cute details like original glass door knobs with skeleton key locks, brass hardware, hardwood floors, one of those ironing boards that folded back into a little closet in the wall and that really cool telephone nook in the hallway near a cute linen closet across from the bathroom. It was the typical square design, enter to living room, door to kitchen, door to hallway with bathroom on the side then into another room. A lot of doors. It had cute original bathroom tile and I could always picture a clawfoot tub there but it didn't have one of those.
I always daydreamed about restoring it and how cute it would look. In the Spring I enjoyed the place thoroughly. The trees around it made it feel like a tree house. It was peaceful. The Summers were another story. I'd curse the place in the Summer. Basically the same wood walls on the outside were the same wood walls on the inside. No insulation, it was like living in a shed, in a very hot shack. There were two window ac units but the air would escape not far from the vent because the walls...you could see daylight through them when you stood back. Winter was more tolerable because there were gas heaters that worked but you didn't want to get to far from them or you'd freeze.
Both times I rented the place it was in the hands of Austin's meanest landlady. She collected tons of homes through the years and rented them out. Her properties were dumps. Some, like 3707 were always uber cheap and nothing more than shacks. She did nothing to keep them up and she was just terrible to her tenants. She was, I heard, quite the sweetie at her church. Anyway, her sister-in-law was a real sweetheart and I ended up renting a lovely garage apartment from her down the street from 3707 when I moved out the first time.
Thinking back, the place never brought me good luck. In retrospect, the two times I lived there were not my best years in Austin. At the time though, the place inspired many thoughts and ideas about restoration, home ownership, gardens, and I can see now thinking about the place was an escape from my life as a student struggling with everything. I'd wonder who first lived there because I had found old metal toy cars buried in the yard. I had wondered if anyone had a cute iron bed in the bedroom or had a child's birthday party in the yard or if anyone planted anything near the fence and how many people had called the place home, if anyone ever did. What was it like in the 40s, 50s and 60s. What sort of wallpaper had been up in 1929 when it was built. I could see faded remnants in the closets. The garage was filled with vintage lamps, furniture, old fabrics and hundreds of mattresses. I wondered if they were belongings left behind or if the landlady put everything there. I also feared that at any moment the whole place could go up in flames with all the old mattresses ad wood furniture stuffed into the garage and the poorly rigged electrical wiring box right next to the tinder. On the one hand, I liked those mattresses in there because I figured if the old posts that were barely holding it up ever failed, I'd have something to cushion the fall. I also thought maybe the mattresses piled up high were holding the place up, and maybe the posts weren't even touching the ground. That would explain how the whole place moved from side to side when you'd walk around.
After I moved out the first time I saw so many tenants come and go as I'd drive by through the years. The U-Hauls and For Rent signs always seemed to be there, probably because no one could stand Judy. Now and then I'd drive by and catch a party with a band playing in the garage. I wondered if they were taking care of the place, if they saw what I saw in it. It had a lot of potential but it was aging fast and I figured one day I'd drive by to find it destroyed.
In 1998 it was still standing, even had the same pink mailbox hanging from a wire on a nail. I needed a place to live fast. I already knew what sort of situation I was getting into with that landlady and figured I could handle it. She was much worse though. It seems she had grown more angry with life and really didn't like being in the business of renting. She had installed a motion light at the place and one night came by for some reason. She never made it up the stairs because the light kept going on and off, as broken motion lights do. She thought I was turning the light on and off and called me the next day screaming about the treatment she had received. I calmly told her it was the motion light, explained how it worked, how it was broken and how I had no access to it, it had no switch. She started muttering all sorts of crazy talk and I realized she was not well, on top of everything else, she probably had dementia. I moved out. The real estate agent who "managed" the property said Judy was going senile and to forget the lease.
The floors had started to dip and a room lost a door. I thought I'd be the last renter and it would soon be condemned but I was wrong. It went on. In fact, a few years later, I was at Austin Books and found this little comic book, handmade, Xeroxed copied and stapled together. It was all about this guy living at the garage apartment and the thoughts the place inspired while his life sort of reached a point of inertia. It was not funny but it was interesting.
I eventually moved to another part of town and rarely went down Red River. With all the changes in Austin I thought for sure this place would fall in on itself. It was a pleasant surprise to find that it had changed hands and the new owners were lovingly and patiently restoring it. I saw that a huge central ac unit had been installed. Later new windows, the garage was cleaned up and looked great, new exterior wood siding. I try to drive by there every now and then. The work is slow but coming along and it looks great! Yay! What a life 3707 has had. I want to know: Who are these amazing guys restoring the place themselves? Can I shake their hand? Thank you for not tearing it down or doing it like a cheap flip. The place has restored dignity.
Red River RestorationsLabels: vintage
