There’s No Place Like Home (Mar, 1946)
I particularly like this article because when I was growing up my family owned a grocery store and later a restaurant on the corner of Bedford street, just a few doors down from the narrow house featured on the second page. I remember being totally credulous when my dad explained that the family living there were really skinny so the narrow confines didn’t bother them at all.
There’s No Place Like Home
WITH some real ingenuity and a carpenter father, Thelma Burnette, of Santa Monica, Calif., licked the housing problemâ€”and made money on it to boot. She bought an obsolete double-decker bus for $50. Her father, Carl M. Burnette, took the body off the chassis and set it on a concrete foundation, tore off the hood and one side, built a bedroom, dressing room, and bath adjoining the open side, and put a fireplace and chimney where the hood had been.
Then the energetic Miss Burnette sold the leather-upholstered lower-deck seats and the wooden ones from the upper deck a few at a time. She got back more than her $50.
IN NEW YORK’S crowded Greenwich Village, the Jay Barnums and their four-year-old son Timothy solve their housing problem by being broadminded enough to live in the city’s narrowest house. The building is an architectural oddity built on a 9′ wide lot between an apartment house and a factory. In it the Barnums even find room for three petsâ€”a dachshund and two cats.
The first floor contains the kitch-en, a dinette, and a living room not an inch over 8-1/2 wide. Bedrooms are on the second floor along with a bathroom that is just big enough to turn around in. There are two bedrooms, one a “master” and the other, Timothy’s, hardly bigger than a pup tent. The top floor is all one room, a long and narrow studio. It holds a piano and Barnum’s drawing equipment and is used for storage, entertainment, and in a pinch as a guest room.
Guide books list the house, and sightseers often stick their heads in the window to see if anybody actually lives in such a slender structure.