Building It Like It Was

Actually, builder Bob White doesn't put it quite that way-although he could if he were so inclined.

The 52-year-old historic preservation specialist is indeed an outspoken proponent of 19th-century craftsmanship. But the grumpy old man persona is a stretch for the jovial Virginia native, whose infectious enthusiasm for "carpentry in its purest form" has landed him contracts to restore the circa-1875 house and barn at Walter Jones Historic Park in Mandarin and to rehabilitate the circa-1702 Gonzales-Alvarez House in St. Augustine.

Since preservation jobs are relatively scarce in Florida, where strip malls erected in the '60s are considered historically significant by default, White also builds modern homes and tackles remodeling jobs using new-fangled equipment and materials. But when a genuinely old structure needs attention, White has emerged as the man to call.

White, who grew up in Jacksonville and graduated from N. B. Forrest High School in 1968, says he learned to appreciate the charms of historic buildings as a youngster, working with his father during summer vacations in Virginia.

"There are a lot of old houses in Virginia," says White, who wears professorial wire-rimmed spectacles and is typically clad in denim. "So we hired a lot of people who were great old-time carpenters-real craftsmen. Not like the ones we have today."

White also became interested in learning more about the people who originally lived in the homes he helped to renovate. "Every old house is a story, just not written in words," he notes. "The houses give you an insight into who the occupants were and how they lived."

After attending Florida Community College Jacksonville (FCCJ) for two years, White married and went to work as a draftsman for an industrial contractor. He later worked for several engineering firms before starting his own business, R.G. White Construction, in 1987.

By that time, White had become a self-taught expert on 19th-century construction techniques, particularly timber framing. "It's a lost art," says White, who's a member of the Timber Framers Guild, a New England-based organization dedicated to promoting and preserving this centuries-old craft. "There are just a handful of us who do it."

Nowadays, frame construction involves numerous slender sticks of wood cut to length and nailed together. A typical timber-framed structure requires a much smaller number of stout posts and beams shaped at their connections to lock together. In addition, timber frame work is generally exposed, and can be a lovely decorative element when the wood is skillfully prepared.

However, by the early 1900s timber framing had fallen out of favor because of improved technology, changing tastes in home design and simple economics. For decades thereafter, back-to-the-land types continued to advocate timber framing as being structurally-and perhaps even morally-superior, but it was also time consuming and expensive.

Nonetheless, in 1991 White was finally commissioned to build a timber-framed addition on the home of a Jacksonville physician. "If somebody came back from 200 years ago and looked at that room, there would be no surprises," says White, delighted to have found a client who shared his enthusiasm.

Other assignments calling upon White's unusual expertise included building the porch of a custom home, a task he insisted upon completing without the use of modern gadgets. "I told my crew that it was 200 years ago," says White. "They used a plumb bob, a story pole (the equivalent of a ruler), a compass, a scribe and strings. That porch looked like it grew together it was so tight."

But White's first major restoration project was a modest farmhouse and a decrepit barn located in Walter Jones Historic Park, a 10-acre tract in Mandarin fronting the St. Johns River. The property, now owned by the city, was the turn-of-the-century home of Mandarin postmaster Walter Jones, whose descendants continued to live in the house-and to make unfortunate additions-until the early 1990s.

In 1999, White was hired by the Jacksonville Parks, Recreation and Entertainment Department to restore the barn, and shortly thereafter the house. It was a dream job, and one that White might well have done for free had he not been required to earn a living.

"Bob was qualified and he was the low bidder," says Shorty Robbins, who was at the time a planner for the department. "That's how it works with the government. But we quickly found that this was a labor of love for Bob. He absorbed a lot of the costs just so he could do this job. It's his passion, so he tends to do that a lot."

Robbins marvels at White's technical knowledge, including his ability to date lumber by simply looking at a saw cut. But she also enjoys his skills as a storyteller. "By making little discoveries in the house, he was able to come up with so much information about the families and how they lived," she says. "When he tells it, it all sounds very plausible."

For example, White was puzzled by a small indention on the house's wooden floor-a detail that most people would have simply not noticed or ignored. He finally surmised that an old pedal-style sewing machine must have sat in that spot, making the indention over many years as the pedal gently tapped the floor.

Such seemingly mundane discoveries excite White as much as if he had uncovered a cache of hidden jewelry. "It's borderline archaeology," he says. "That's what makes it so much fun."

Two years ago in St. Augustine, White was hired through a state grant to shore up the 250-year-old Gonzalez-Alvarez house, which is billed as the city's oldest residential structure. He was called in when officials of the St. Augustine Historical Society, which operates the house as a tourist attraction, noticed that the southern wall was shifting and cracking.

Structural damage proved to be more extensive than anticipated, but while making repairs White made a number of interesting discoveries, including a previously hidden stone archway and hand-carved coquina walls, indicating that the owners were more affluent than previously thought.

His current project is a circa-1880s farmhouse, barn and stable sitting in a St. Johns County orange grove. The county has recently purchased the property for a park, and White is already hard at work, immersing himself in the history of the house and preparing a scope of work.

Still, despite White's affinity for all things ancient, he and his family-including wife Georgia and children Matthew, 19, and Emily, 16-live in a suburban Westside home built in 1981.

The reason? White chuckles at the question. "It's like I tell my wife: 'We can't afford to hire us.'"