This article, which appeared in the May 1950
Coronet, is copyright © by Esquire lnc.
and is reprinted with permission.
Thirteen years ago, a Coronet article changed my
life!
Thirteen years ago, my wife and I were hard-up, rent-paying
tenants in a crowded city. Today we are independent and
secure in the Pennsylvania countryside. We own, debt-free,
a $15,000 home. And we did it all on a modest income.
How can I credit this independence and security to a
Coronet article? It was called “Houses of Earth,”
and the author maintained that anybody could build his own
house. All you did was erect wooden forms on a foundation,
pound in four-inch layers of dirt, and you would have a
rammed earth (or Pasé de Terre) wall.
Pisé, it developed, was an ancient and honorable
building method, almost forgotten today. As soon as one
form was full of rammed earth, you moved it and rammed
another section, and so on until the wall was complete. As
simple as that. Easy, cheap, and permanent, the article
said.
And every word was true. Our rammed earth home is warm in winter, cool
in summer. The foot-thick walls are proof against vermin,
termites and fire, and will stand for centuries. And they
were easy and cheap to erect, just as the Coronet
article stated. I know, because I have built our
home–during my spare time!
There is nothing remarkable about me. I am just an average
fellow: a salesman, 37 years old, weighing 163 pounds. I am
five-feet-eleven, and have the usual number of hands and
legs. It just happens that I used my spare time to build a
home of rammed earth.
Our house does not appear unusual. Without knowing its
history, you would drive by and notice only an attractive
home with clean, simple lines. It is big, but it hugs the
ground with an air of belonging. And it is filled with
modern appliances that we were able to afford because we
saved so much by using the construction methods we did.
And if we built a home that way, you can too. Here’s how we
happened to get started ….
Betty read the Coronet article first. “Look,” she exclaimed,
“the author says that anyone can build a home of rammed
earth.”
“Not me, honey,” I replied. “The only thing I ever built
was a birdhouse, and the Scoutmaster said the comers
weren’t square.”
But Betty was insistent, so we read the article again and
then went to the library for more information. It still
sounded simple. Centuries-old houses made of rammed earth
were still standing, in good repair. The only objection, we
found, was that the method took more time and labor than
conventional techniques.
“But look, darling,” I said, “suppose we do try
it–you’ll suffer hardships. Here in this apartment,
at least we have a bathroom and running water.”
“And if we stay here, that’s all well ever have,” she
countered. “Building a place of our own will give us
security and independence–and a place to raise a
family.
Betty was right. Our budget proved it. After rent, food, and
clothing, there was little left. If our rent money could be
used to buy some land, and my spare time to build on it,
well ….
I jotted down a list of requirements for the land: [1] It
had to be cheap; [2] it had to be within commuting distance
of my job; [3] it would be fine if it included a cheap,
run-down house, where we could live while building; [4] it
had to have the right kind of dirt for building with rammed
earth.
Fruitlessly we scanned newspaper ads; vainly we haunted
real estate brokers. Finally we got a break on one of our
Sunday afternoon drives into the country. Rounding a bend,
we saw, half-hidden in briars, a weatherbeaten sign: FOR
SALE.
A hundred feet from the road stood a decrepit shack. The
walls leaned; newspapers were stuck around the windows. We
made our way to the door.
“Nice place here. We see you’ve got it up for sale.”
“Yup. Built it myself,” the old man replied. “Needs a
little patching, though.”
“Is the ground good for farming?” I asked.
“Raises fine blackberries, but it’s too sandy for corn.”
My spine tingled. Seventy-five per cent sand was ideal
for rammed-earth construction! Exactly what we wanted:
five acres, a run-down house, electricity and water
available, and within driving distance of my job. Anxiously
we asked the price. Wonderful! We could afford it!
Next day we drove out and made a down payment of $100 on
our home. Then we arranged mortgage payments the same as
our rent, and two months later were ready to move.
Moving day was a bright June morning. I unloaded the truck
as Betty busied herself with cleaning. When night came, we
assembled our bed in what we laughingly called the bedroom.
We fell asleep under our own roof–leaky, maybe, but
our very own! …
For the next few weeks, we were busy making our little
place bright, cheerful and weather-tight. Finally we knew
it would weather the winter. Now we could start building!
Already on graph paper were scale drawings of our new home.
Simple in design, it would be a low, one-story structure
with a center section and two wings, in the form of the
letter “U”. We would build the center section and one wing
first, move into it, then tear down the old house and
construct the other wing where it stood. Our back wall
called for a picture window and French doors facing the
view, and since they were both large openings we started
there.
First came the foundation, a 36-inch reinforced concrete
footing. Narrow in the middle, it tapered out to 12 inches
at the top, the width of our walls. It extends below ground
two feet, the frost level in our area.
Excellent plans for building foundation forms are contained
in a free bulletin, No. 277, Rammed Earth Walls for
Farm Buildings , published by the South Dakota State
College at Brookings. Not having enough money to buy new
wood and cement too, I used scrap boards from our corncrib
and lined the forms with waterproof building paper. I found
the only precaution necessary was to be sure the top of the
form was level and that the boards couldn’t warp or bulge
under pressure from wet concrete.
After I had filled the first section of wall with rammed
earth, I took off the form and it stood there, a beautiful
monolithic block of sandstone eight feet long and seven
feet high, constructed by pressure as it is in nature.
“Why, anybody can do that!” commented a friend as he
watched me build a section.
He was right. My forms are made from 5/8-inch plywood
shoots, lined with galvanized iron and reinforced at the
edges with angle iron. They are attached on the wall with
bolts threaded on both ends. After the forms are tightened
and made plumb, they are rammed full of earth, each
four-inch layer pounded solid before the next is added.
Then the bolts are removed and the form is ready for the
next section. By using two-by-twelve planks for window and
door frames, it is simple to leave openings in the wall.
I built the forms following directions in that South Dakota
bulletin. The materials cost about $50.00, and the forms
are still good as new.
When people first discover you are building of rammed
earth, they are incredulous. What holds it down? What makes
it stick together? If it’s so good, why doesn’t everyone
build of rammed earth?
The last question is a good one. The answer is: in this
age, the cost of labor would make rammed-earth construction
fantastically expensive. But for the fellow who will work
for himself, it is ideal. All you need is spare time.
I used two tampers. The first, about eight inches square on
the bottom, firms the ground. The other, which a machinist
friend made for me, does the real work. It is a piece of
iron, 4 X 3 X 2 1/2 inches, with a hole bored on the narrow
side. The hole is threaded to fit a one-inch pipe, six feet
long, which forms the handle. The whole thing weighs about
12 pounds.
That first winter was rugged. Snowdrifts piled around our
home for months. We would awake to find our water pump
frozen, and Betty would melt snow for our coffee. If I
remarked that we didn’t have city conveniences, she would
retort: “It’s our home, isn’t it?”
Winter finally yielded to a cold, damp spring. Fretting at
delay, we waited for the summer sun to dry our dirt. Then
the wall-making went on–weekends, holidays,
vacations, and those golden hours between dinner and
bedtime. There is a jubilant joy in creating something
permanent. So much of what we do in this modern age is
transitory and intangible. But as you give the final
ringing stroke to a rammed-earth wall, you know it will
last 100 years. That gives you a good feeling, down deep
inside.
Meanwhile, you will give up some of your city friends. But
new friends will appear, pioneers like yourself. They won’t
come around often, because they are busy with their own
projects, but in case of sickness or need, they are always
ready to help.
By fall, our building began to look like a house. On top of
the wall were 2 X 12-inch planks, held in place by bolts
imbedded in the Pisé. Tar paper capped them for
protection against weather.
Again the winter’s sleet and snow beat against our
rammed-earth walls, and again, to the amazement of
skeptical neighbors, they showed little abuse. By the time
we put on a roof, the walls had been thoroughly exposed,
yet they were only slightly roughened, providing an easier
surface for plastering.
There is a variety of exterior finishes for rammed earth.
We applied two coats of regular cement stucco plaster,
troweling the second coat smooth. The house is painted
green now, and ivy is climbing the walls. It is
big–78 feet long, and our living-dining room is 24 by
30–but it blends with the landscape so well that few
people realize its size.
When we were ready for the roof, there was a war on. Lumber
was scarce and expensive. After we looked for weeks, a
nearby farmer decided to tear down his barn and sell the
timbers. They were hand-hewn, strong enough to support twice
the weight we required.
Then I started learning about hip rafters, valley rafters,
jack rafters and just plain ordinary rafters. There are
plenty of books on how to cope with rafters, but I
developed my own system.
First I propped up the ridgepole. Then, with a steel tape,
I carefully measured the distance between it and the wall.
That had to be the length of the rafter, with no
geometric shenanigans. Then I put up a string where the
rafter would be and placed my square against it, both at
top and bottom.
By holding the square against the rafter plank, with the
numbers in the same position as when they were against the
string, I would mark the rafter and saw it accordingly.
That had to be the correct angle for the top and bottom
cuts.
The war also caused a shortage of lots of other things, so
I haunted house-wrecking places. I found all sorts of
interesting materials–plumbing fixtures for a
fraction of the original price, and doors practically for
the taking. But what made me happiest was the secondhand
lumber, salvaged from scrapped homes–wonderful roof
sheathing that is hard to buy today for any money.
Roof making is rewarding work, for each rafter changes the
world’s skyline, and everyone can see what you have
accomplished. It was two years before the last shingle was
laid one nippy fall day. Now we were ready to work
inside the house.
Building a chimney was first. (As a guidebook I used the
excellent Department of Agriculture Bulletin, No. 1889,
Fireplaces and Chimneys. ) Plastering came next.
Then carpentry, wiring and plumbing followed in routine
order.
I did them all, using information from free government
pamphlets. None of these trades presents insoluble problems
to a person who can read and follow directions. The chief
difference is that a professional works faster than an
amateur.
During the past few weeks, I’ve been out of a job. So what?
I own my home, have no debts, and can afford to wait until
the right thing comes along. And while I’m on “vacation,” I
can put in my time by adding refinements and increasing the
value of our home.
If I had not read that Coronet article in 1937, I
shudder to think of my life today–out of work, with
nothing but a stock of worthless rent receipts or perhaps
installments on a mortgage to meet. There would never be
this happy household where I sit on the sunlit terrace and
watch two healthy children playing on our broad acres.
Rammed earth promises anyone health, independence, and
security. The instructions for building are readily
available, either in government pamphlets or at your public
library. And all the time you invest is your own.
If I did it, you can too. So why not follow in my footsteps
and find out what it means to live a fuller, richer, and
happier family life?
Rammed Earth House Construction Costs
Prior to publication of this article, Coronet sent a real-estate expert to Valencia, Pennsylvania, to make an appraisal of the McMeekin house. After careful study, he reported that the home is comparable to the average modern dwelling costing $15,000, exclusive of land value. The owner estimates the material cost of the residence, now 70 percent complete, at about $2,000, with
some items calculated at pre-war prices. The real-estate appraiser, basing prices on 1950 levels, submitted the following cost figures:
ESTIMATED Self Outside
MATERIALS Labor Labor
Forms $125 $250
Foundation 650 950
Doors 105 200
Windows 175 300
Electric Wiring 175 350
Plumbing 200 350
Chimney 60 150
Plastering 350 700
Floors 600 800
Walls, Exterior
& Partitions 500 900
Roof 500 750
Heating System 175 275
----- -----
Total $3,615 $5,975
ADDITIONAL Self Outside
COST Labor Labor
Bath tub $65 $105
Washbasin 19 30
Medicine Chest 11 21
Toilet and,
Flushometer 55 75
Heat in Floors 85 175
Ventilators
(above windows) 50 125
Paint, Interior 100 600
Paint, Exterior 50 150
Lubricating Oil 15 25
(Foundations)
Cement Walls 30 50
Cedar Gutter 70 140
Kitchen Sink 115 165
Kitchen Cabinets 125 175
Kitchen Dressers 100 150
Refrigerators (two) 380 390
Electric Stove 250 260
Lighting Fixtures 75 175
Linoleum 250 325
Aluminum Fireplace
Sheets 60 90
Well (Water) 200 200
Pump (Water) 100 100
Wire Lathe 150 400
Power Line 100 100
---- ----
$2,455 $4,026
Total Cost $6,070 $10,001
