We’ve added two more builder biographies to our growing collection of Portland area home builders from the early 20th Century: A.C. Galbraith, a prolific builder of small bungalows, based in St. Johns; and W.H Dunn, a retired Canadian wheat-grower-turned-builder who started his building career late and operated in Irvington, Alameda and Laurelhurst.
Both were in early on the building boom of the 1920s. Both worked mostly from standard plan sets. Both built most of their houses on speculation, without a contract or particular client in mind on faith the house would sell. And both were crushed by the Great Depression, like so many builders.
Their trials and accomplishments add to our understanding of the times.
More builder profiles to follow (we love doing these) and appreciate the suggestions from readers. If you haven’t read the bio of Harry Phillips and the recent comments from his great-great granddaughter who found our profile of Harry, do check it out.
In collaboration with the Alameda Neighborhood Association, I’ll be presenting a program on the work of the Oregon Home Builders Co., Wednesday, January 17, 2024 from 7:30-9:00 p.m. at the Fremont United Methodist Church (2620 NE Fremont), and you’re invited (RSVPs required, see below).
The Oregon Home Builders company set out in 1912 to pursue its vision of homebuilding market domination by selling stock to investors and by building memorable homes for its customers. During five years between 1912-1917, the company built more than 125 homes, including many in Alameda, several of which are listed today in the National Register of Historic Places.
The company was unique among homebuilders of the era because it catered to both ends of the economic spectrum: large, charismatic custom-designed homes for the wealthy, and simple, affordable thoughtfully-designed bungalows for those just entering the housing market. Join me for an inside look at the intriguing rise and fall of the company and the legacy of its homes today.
To reserve your spot for the January 17, 2024 program, please e-mail the Alameda Neighborhood Association at alamedanewsletter@gmail.com. Reservation deadline is January 10th. Doors open at 7:00 and the association will have light refreshments on hand.
The Alameda Neighborhood Association is a neighbor-led board that advocates for smart policies, takes action on neighbors’ concerns, facilitates communication about neighborhood issues, hosts events to bring residents together and publishes the quarterly newsletter AlamedaPDX.
Two new profiles to add to The Builders collection, both Swedish immigrants, one who had a brother in the business that we have already profiled, though they chose to spell their last names differently.
Stockholm Harbor, summer 2023
Herman Nelson, who immigrated through Canada in his early 20s a few years ahead of his younger brother builder Emil Nilson; and August Malmquist, or as he is more frequently referred to on building permits as A.C. Malmquist. Learning more about the third Nelson/Nilson brother, Oscar, is still on our to-do list.
Included in all of these profiles is a list of homes built by these builders, so by all means check to see if your address is here.
These three Swedish carpenters built hundreds of houses in Northeast Portland neighborhoods, and operated mostly as Mom-and-Pop businesses, with spouses’ names occasionally showing up on real estate transactions. Their business was building houses, but they were family people too, and were active members in the Swedish community in Oregon.
We are reminded about the contributions made by so many immigrants to the shaping of these neighborhoods, and about the racial restrictions and systems that have kept others away.
There’s been a spike of recent interest here on the blog about original construction dates and early builders, which is great. Every house has an origin story all its own and they’re always interesting. I’m currently working on profiles of several more builders to join the 25 already in The Builders section, and I’ve appreciated the suggestions from readers about who to focus on next.
Thinking about these things, I am reminded about the study of building inspection cards I did a few years back which really helped me understand geographic patterns of growth, Portland’s early waves of expansion and recession, and a very busy group of early homebuilders.
Construction inspection card from 1921 for Alameda School.
On many evenings over two years in the mid-2000s, I was granted research access behind the counter at the Bureau of Development Services to examine construction inspection cards. Slowly and carefully, I handled every inspection card in the Alameda Park addition and noted details into a growing record. While my scope of interest is much wider than just Alameda, it’s hard to boil the ocean so I had to define the boundaries of the search. The thought of recording details from every eastside inspection card (by hand) is overwhelming.
Back in 2010, I posted a summary of that research here on the blog. Because AH is up to about 300 posts since 2007, it’s possible current readers haven’t seen it. I realize that’s an ongoing challenge, by the way, of wayfinding through the content here (try using the categories feature, with drag-down menus which you can find on the far right edge of the blog).
Our recent post on the prolific Portland homebuilders known as Hiller Brothers Inc. grew out of our research on one of their classic bungalows on NE Knott Street. In the post, we mentioned several family resemblances among these homes: windows, built-ins, doors, hardware.
As it turns out there’s another distinctive feature that came to light as neighbors began talking with neighbors. It’s an archway that looks like this:
That distinctive coved shape defining the room is called a cavetto, or quarter-circle, joined to a couple of 90-degree steps top and bottom to create a decorative entry feature that reveals this cozy space–once a breakfast nook–located just off the kitchen. In at least a couple of the Hiller homes we know of, the distinctive cavetto cove is still there and the small space has been converted into a pantry-like area that offers a worktop as well. In some homes, the nook has likely already been annexed into kitchen extensions. Some homeowners might be eyeing that nook and arch right now mulling over remodeling plans.
It would be interesting to hear from others on the Hiller Brothers address list if this cavetto cove and nook feature look familiar. We bet there are more than few still out there.
Which leads to the topic of nooks (more formally inglenooks), a worthy eventual blog post.
Do you have a favorite nook space that operates near the heartbeat of the house? We do, in our 1912 Arts and Crafts bungalow, but it’s a design generation earlier than the Hillers and their hard working architect Hubert A. Williams.
We’ve just completed another builder profile, this time the story of two brothers who formed Hiller Brothers Incorporated in the early 1920s and built more than 400 homes in Irvington, Alameda, Grant Park, Garthwick and West Slope.
A Hiller Brothers built home at 2131 NE Siskiyou, from The Oregonian, March 14, 1926
In the early years, their preferred building type was the bungalow and in later years Tudor-revival and English cottage style. When you figure out the family resemblances, you’ll find them all over the neighborhood. Look for Hiller Brothers’ work on NE Knott Street between 29th and 32nd (virtually every house). They built 40 homes within a two-block radius of NE 32nd and Knott–most designed by Portland architect Hubert A. Williams (1887-1965)–so check out the profile to see a long list of addresses.
James was 16 years older than brother Gus. The two divided up responsibilities, with Gus supervising the construction wing and James focusing on real estate development and sales. In the 1920s, together with their teams of carpenters, tradespeople and sales force, they were among the busiest homebuilders on the eastside. During the Great Depression–like so many other builders–they switched to repair and remodeling work, but that wasn’t enough to sustain the company. Gus eventually went to work in the Portland shipyards and James–after a brief retirement to the Rogue River Valley–returned to Portland to develop hundreds of homes in the West Slope area.
We’ve been exploring the early history of the 1913 Arts and Crafts bungalow at 2503 NE Mason—one of the three we wrote about last week—and the plot has thickened. Its builder, a relocated Canadian citizen, Colorado miner, and livery stable owner, moved to Portland in 1911 and became a home builder, ship builder, all-around handyman and eventually a property developer working on projects in the Hollywood area and near Mt. Hood.
According to building permit and real estate records, Sterling A. Rogers started excavating the basement the very same week he bought the vacant lot in the recently platted Alameda Park addition for $823 in May 1913.
Sterling and wife Lena had arrived in Portland in 1911 after selling their horses, home and livery business in Dunton, Colorado to his brother Robert. Sterling and Lena, then 29 and 26 respectively, had enough of the hard winters in the San Juan Mountains of southwestern Colorado. After a winter escape to the West Coast in 1909, they must have decided it was time to leave. Sterling had been a kind of renaissance man in Dunton, locating mines, constructing buildings, acquiring and looking after horses and wagons.
The Telluride Daily Journal described him like this in its May 23, 1903 edition:
Sterling Rogers, postmaster, merchant, hotel proprietor, and all around monopolist, of Dunton, was an arrival from the south on last evening’s train. He remained overnight and left this morning for Denver. He says that owing to the horrible condition of the roads between the Coke Ovens and Dunton, he cannot get enough lumber to put the finishing touches on his new hotel, but expects to be able to move into the building within the next two or three weeks.
Sterling finished the hotel, and added a pool and baths at the nearby hot springs, but in early 1911 the couple left for Portland. By December, he and Lena were buying vacant lots in the Vernon and Woodlawn neighborhoods. If the hard Colorado winters didn’t drive them out, could be they saw the writing on the wall: by 1919, Dunton had become a deserted and dilapidated ghost town, sidelined by its remoteness and primitive transportation connections, which Sterling knew all too well.
Rogers finished the Mason Street bungalow in August 1913 and advertised it for lease for $30 per month through the fall and early winter while the couple lived there:
From The Oregonian, January 18, 1914
Like many young Portland builders of that time, Sterling was trying to leverage financial momentum by living briefly in his brand-new house built on speculation, leasing or selling it quickly, and using the proceeds to fund other projects that could lead to a next-level income. The couple continued to buy, trade for, and seek additional vacant lots on the eastside. In the spring and summer of 1915, Sterling the entrepreneur was busy:
From The Oregonian, May 9, 1915
From The Oregon Journal, August 8, 1915
Sterling was not a butcher. The meat market had belonged to Daniel and Ethel Dyer, who not coincidentally had moved into the Mason Street house for about a year in 1916, under what must have been a creative financial agreement. But that didn’t last, and by 1917, Sterling and Lena were back. And according to auto registration records, they had indeed been accumulating quite a few vehicles, all registered to the Mason Street house.
In 1918, at age 35, Sterling registered for the World War 1 draft and gave his occupation as a ship carpenter (as well as his height at 5’9”, weight at 140, blue eyes and black hair) and home address as 801 Mason, today’s 2503. That year, he also petitioned for citizenship and renounced his allegiance to George the Fifth, King of the United Kingdom and the British dominions. Rogers had been born in the Canadian province of Prince Edward Island (Canada was then under the dominion of Great Britain). Lena was from South Dakota.
Meanwhile, the couple had been buying property along Sandy Boulevard and by 1920 they moved to a home long since torn down at the northeast corner of 43rd and Sandy. Sterling continued to speculate in real estate, take on repair jobs and build small bungalows—none as distinctive as the Mason Street house. In 1933 it looked like he was going to make it big with a planned development of summer homes on Mt. Hood (which sounds a lot like what is today’s Brightwood).
From The Oregonian, May 21, 1933
But the Great Depression of the early 1930s was a hard time to be building or selling anything. Sterling died of tuberculosis in 1936; his death certificate showed he had struggled with the disease since the mid 19-teens.
Rogers built it – Who designed it?
A look at the handful of relatively non-descript bungalows Sterling built in the 19-teens and 1920s—absent decorative trim, built-ins, columns or beveled glass—makes us think 2503 is a kit home, meaning he bought it as a package to be assembled, which was relatively common then. The design-forward detail of 2503 (see for yourself) is so unlike anything else he built.
So we’ve been poring over kit house and plan set catalogs looking for family resemblances. The external door and window trim is distinctive on this house, as are the three long beveled glass panel interior and exterior doors. Haven’t found it yet, but we’ll keep looking.
Having researched many early home builders, we’re well acquainted with the blend of boot-strap, hard-scrabble entrepreneurship they and their families brought to the building of our neighborhoods.
The homes we live in—the materials they are built with, and the people who did the building—are from a different era that’s hard to imagine today. Each of our homes has its own origin story, the windows, walls and ceilings shaped by people whose stories we’ll never know.
Our house history research practice provides a steady stream of insight about neighborhood development while also allowing us to get to know the builders, the buildings they built, the early residents, and the times they all lived through.
From The Oregonian, September 9, 1923
In addition to the recent piece on florist-turned-builder Carl F. Ruef, we’ve added 10 new names to The Builders page, joining background on more than 20 other builders. Below is a synopsis of these newly added crafts people. Click each name to see their stories and the addresses they’ve designed and built…you might find your home or one you know!
Part booster, part builder, Graves parlayed his experience as an engineer in World War 1 into an ability to manage large projects, building more than 70 bungalows in Irvington during the height of the building boom 1925-1926. Graves worked with architect H.H. Menges whose motto was “You furnish the lot, and I’ll furnish the plans.”
Architect of stately homes in the Irvington and Dolph Park neighborhoods and beyond, and large government and institutional buildings like the Washington County Courthouse and Masonic lodges throughout the region, Hossack paused his successful architectural practice in the mid 1930s to go to work for the Civilian Conservation Corps and died on remote assignment in Idaho.
Advertising himself as “Master Builder” and Builder of Finer Homes,” this Swedish immigrant built dozens of homes in Alameda, Rose City Park and Eastmoreland.
Architect Ralph Panhorst grew up in Northeast Portland in the 19-teens and opened his own architectural practice at the age of 26, focusing on homes and apartment buildings. He was later known for his mid-century modern designs.
While not a registered architect, German immigrant E.T. Pape designed classic residences in Alameda, Laurelhurst, Eastmoreland and Dolph Park and a half-dozen mid-sized apartment buildings, three of which today are on the National Register of Historic Places.
This Scottish immigrant builder started out building bungalows in Montavilla and a four-square on NE Broadway before building Grant High School and multiple large projects in Portland and in the Klamath Falls area.
A practicing architect in Portland and on the faculty at the University of Oregon School of Architecture in 1916-1917, Rich designed public buildings, wrote columns on architecture for The Oregonian, and finished a high profile Alameda home before leaving architecture and Oregon for good in 1918.
Five homes in the Alameda neighborhood were built by a multi-talented “moonlighting” florist during the boom years of the 1920s.
During the Great Depression years of the late 1920s and early 1930s, Alameda florist and home builder Carl F. Ruef lost his fight with his Alameda neighbors and the City of Portland to open a greenhouse and flower shop at NE 24th and Fremont. But his local handiwork survives as a testament to the resourcefulness of that time, the chutzpah of his big mid-life move, and the boom times of homebuilding in the mid 1920s.
Ruef built and lived in the Mediterranean-style home at 2208 NE Regents from 1924-1930 before building and moving into the small Tudor revival style home at 2425 NE Fremont. Both homes survive today and were bookends of his Alameda experience.
From The Small Home: Financing, Planning Building, Monthly Service Bulletin No. 41, July 1925. Published by The Architects’ Small House Service Bureau of the United States, Inc. This was the home of Carl F. and Florence Nichols Ruef from 1924-1930. Prior to Portland’s Great Renumbering of 1930-1931, the home was originally addressed as 742 Regents. Today it is 2208 NE Regents.
Carl F. Ruef was a first-generation American from German immigrant parents who was born in Claremont County Iowa on May 20, 1879 and grew up in Salem, Oregon. With his brother Edward, Ruef established the largest floral greenhouse operation in Oregon outside of Portland near the intersection of 17th and Market Street in Salem, with a retail storefront in downtown Salem. In the 19-teens Ruef, built a reputation as Salem’s leading florist, knowledgeable about all aspects of flower growing, gardening, and the cultivation of fruits and berries.
From the Capital Journal, October 31, 1916.
Carl Ruef lived at home with his parents until age 39, when in a bold moment after their deaths he sold the Salem greenhouses and florist business, married Statesman-Journal newspaper social columnist Florence Elizabeth Nichols (ten years his junior), had a baby daughter Mary, and moved to Portland.
Once in Portland, Ruef first appears in city directories as a gardener, living with wife and daughter at 2328 SE Yamhill Street. Evidently, he was also preparing to launch a career as a homebuilder. In 1923, he built 1832 SE Hazel (where the family lived briefly), and two homes that share a back fence: 3527 NE 29th Avenue and 2816 NE Ridgewood. In 1924, Ruef is listed in city directories as a builder; the Ruef family was living in the home he built at 2208 NE Regents, which still stands today.
This third home known to be built by Ruef—located on the southeast corner of NE 22nd and Regents—appeared in several publications, including a catalog of building plans published by the Architects’ Small House Service Bureau. Accompanying the 1925 photo above is the following short story and a quote from Florence Ruef about the house and its landscaping:
1924 was a busy year for new homebuilder Ruef: he built the Regents, Ridgewood and NE 29th Avenue houses and the home at 3834 NE 23rd.
Starting in December 1925, the Ruefs attempted to sell the Regents house for $9,000, advertising it as follows: “Choice Spanish bungalow, a positive sacrifice by owner, tile roof, oversize grounds, gas fired hot water heater, illuminated at night.”
But the Regents house didn’t sell and the Ruef family continued to live there until 1930 when they moved into the final home he built, the tiny English Tudor at 2425 NE Fremont.
Meanwhile in the late 1920s, Ruef turned back toward the floral business, opening and then later selling the Irvington-Alameda Floral Company at 1631 NE Broadway.
The Great Depression years of the early 1930s were a challenging time for the Ruef family and for most families in Portland. They continued to live in the small English Tudor on Fremont where they rented out one of the three tiny bedrooms for $12 per month. On March 22, 1931 Ruef advertised the room for rent in one part of the classified ads, and in a different section sought a loan offering the house as collateral: “Want $2,750 on $8,000 new residence, 6 percent no brokerage fee.” He was evidently trying to capitalize a new floral business.
Working out of the small house on Fremont, Ruef attempted to turn his florist know-how into an income stream for his family, initially growing flowers in the backyard and eventually seeking city permission to put up a small sign advertising the business, and later to convert the garage into a greenhouse.
From The Oregonian, May 13, 1931
In May 1931 he requested a zone change and permission to put up a sign for his flower business facing Fremont: the lot to the west, location of today’s Childroots Daycare, was vacant during those years as was the residential lot to the east. But neighbors didn’t like the idea of businesses in the Alameda Park Addition period, stemming in part from the original deed restriction prohibiting businesses in the neighborhood, and complained to the city which in December shut down both the sign request and later the zone change which would have allowed Ruef to open a small flower shop.
From The Oregonian, December 31, 1931
This annotated photograph from a rainy day in 1935 (click to enlarge) shows the home Ruef built at 2425 NE Fremont where he wanted to establish a flower shop, and the home he built in 1924 at 2208 NE Regents in upper left. The vacant lots either side of the Fremont house would have been perfect for the greenhouse he had in mind. Note: the Broadway Streetcar waiting at the corner of Fremont and 24th in front of the Alameda Pharmacy; the gas station on the northwest corner; and the vacant lots on both the southeast and northeast corners. Original photo courtesy of Portland City Archives, A2005-005.1421.2. For more views of this intersection, click here.
Due to the strong neighborhood opposition, the Ruefs gave up on the home-based business idea and in 1932 rented space at 3125 East Burnside for a new business, Carl Ruef Floral. They continued to live at 2425 NE Fremont and grow some flowers under a revocable city permit. The 1940 census found all three there, listing Carl at age 60, proprietor of a florist shop; Florence, 48, was keeping house; and daughter Mary, then 20, was a model of ladies’ apparel.
From the Oregon Journal, August 29, 1939
When Carl died suddenly one year later in December 1941, the family was living at 1412 SE 25th. His death certificate notes he was a “retired florist and landscape architect.”
Florence and Mary continued to live together until 1943, when Mary moved to Chicago with her new husband Howard Fay, and Florence remarried Portland railroad dispatcher Olof Olsson. Mary was back in the Portland area in the mid 1970s, remarried after her first husband’s death, working as a real estate agent until her own passing in 1985. Florence lived briefly in the late 1950s with her new husband in a Las Vegas trailer park before returning to the Portland area where she died in 1989 at age 100.
This week we’ve added a couple more biographies of eastside builders and lists of their homes to The Builders page, bringing the library of profiles there to 20 homebuilders who’ve left their imprint on our neighborhoods.
This week, meet William G. Bohn, whose second-wind career in the 1920s capped a career in the wood business that started in the upper Midwest. His work stands today along NE 18th Avenue near Sabin School and in Montavilla. He was one of many who blended homebuilding, finance, and salesmanship to take advantage of the heady building years of the mid 1920s.
The second profile this week is H.R. “Hallie” Kibler—Portland’s “Reliable Builder” who started his homebuilding business at age 22 in 1915 (the two sturdy Craftsman bungalows at the northwest corner of 33rd and Prescott were his first and second jobs and still stand today). Kibler served in France during World War 1 and returned to Portland to build in Alameda and nearby neighborhoods before moving to Eastmoreland.
More profiles to follow soon. Our research practice provides a steady stream of insights about local builders.
On an unrelated note, we’ve been out walking in the early evenings here at the bottom of the year—when it feels like it’s getting dark by 4:00 in the afternoon. This is a great time to appreciate the holiday lights and the glow of neighborhood homes and get some exercise. Here are some suggestions to get outside and explore the neighborhoods.
Alameda Old House History 