суббота, 26 января 2013 г.
Also in need of replacing: the fireplaces in the first-floor parlor, which had been claimed by thiev
For years, boat travel cover things played out like a slow but steady boat travel cover horror movie for the venerable three-story Whann-Bohn House at the edge of the French Quarter. A once-stately mansion, it is said to have been the most expensive house built in New Orleans when it was completed boat travel cover in 1859, two years before the start of the Civil War.
The renovation boat travel cover preserved the original rich brown treads, spindles and handrails of the staircases that lead up to each of the main house's three floors. 'It's Cuban mahogany, which you can't get anymore, because there is no more Cuban mahogany,' Susan Hoffman says.
Over the years, though, (cue the creepy boat travel cover music) boat travel cover decades of vandalism and outright neglect boat travel cover seemed determined to grind it down and erase it from the New Orleans skyline. Now, though, some 153 years later, it appears that a Hollywood ending is in store after all, and in more ways than one, for the once and future Greek Revival gem situated at 807 Esplanade Ave., on the Faubourg Marigny side of the street.
A $13 million, four-year historic renovation of the house and its outbuildings is scheduled to be completed by the end of September. In addition to returning to commerce a majestic slice of New Orleans history, it will add a major element to the city's growing film infrastructure, with the complex operating as a state-of-the-art residential post-production facility intended to keep filmmakers in town -- and spending their money here -- as they edit their locally boat travel cover shot movies.
boat travel cover With its high-tech screening room, a sound-recording stage and residential facilities big enough to house several productions of varying sizes at once -- all within walking distance of the French Quarter to the west and Frenchmen Street to the east -- the Seven Arts Post facility appears primed to become a real-estate success story. But despite its place in the city's history, the house's future boat travel cover wasn't always quite so promising.
"This is what I call a three-contractor job," said owner Susan Hoffman, who, with her movie producer husband Peter Hoffman, is the driving force and beating heart behind the renovation. "Because they run out screaming when they find out what is involved."
Susan Hoffman, a film producer, passionate preservationist and owner of Cafe Amelie in the French Quarter, gives credit boat travel cover to her general contractor. The locally based Leo Duvernay was undeterred by what Hoffman calls "the underpinning catastrophes" that always turn up when a house as big and as old as the 10,617-square-foot Whann-Bohn House gets a major renovation.
And from the moment the Hoffmans bought the place in 2007 for about $1.7 million through their film-production firm, Seven Arts Pictures, those catastrophes began rearing their heads, starting with the ornate, perforated crown molding in the three-story house's main rooms.
Given the age of the building, no matching molding could be purchased. So the Hoffmans brought in local ornamental plasterer Tommy Lachin, a third-generation artisan, and handed him what Hoffman said was the only 18-inch piece of the original molding that hadn't melted or shattered during the removal process. Using that as a guide, Lachin crafted matching molding throughout the house.
Likewise, Lachin rebuilt ornate ceiling medallions featuring floral motifs and what appear to be Dutch-inspired figures to match those originally in the house, and to replace one that was missing entirely from the house's foyer.
Also in need of replacing: boat travel cover the fireplaces in the first-floor boat travel cover parlor, which had been claimed by thieves in the night. "The fireplaces were stolen the day the owner before us bought it -- that night, they were stolen," Hoffman said.
Still, the goal in any historic renovation -- a passion of Hoffman's -- isn't to replace or re-create things. It's to preserve as much original material as possible. Case in point: boat travel cover the staircases leading up to each of the main house's three floors, with their rich brown treads, boat travel cover spindles and handrails.
"It's Cuban mahogany," Hoffman said, "which you can't get anymore, because there is no more Cuban mahogany. This is why you do the restoration: to keep the original materials, particularly those that aren't available any more."
Built by the firm of Littleton and Miss in 1859 for ship Capt. William Whann, the three-story brick-plastered structure was reportedly built on the site of a house owned by local political giant Judah P. Benjamin, the one-time Confederate secretary of state and secretary of war who also lived at 327 Bourbon St.
When it was completed for Whann, the newer structure was a picture of luxury, outfitted with granite, mahogany, marble, wrought-iron outdoor railings, a small teardrop-shaped walking garden and modern conveniences such as hot running water.
Although frequently referred to as a Greek Revival home, a reference to its predominant style, Hoffman says it's more accurately an example of Transitional architecture. That is, a melding of styles, in this case Baroque, boat travel cover Greek Revival and very early Victorian, boat travel cover she said.
In 1866, the home was purchased boat travel cover by local property owner August Bohn, thus the second half of the name by which the house is formally known. More recently, it was owned by French Quarter landowner Leon Impastato.
As it changed hands over the years, however, the house slowly fell into disrepair, devolving from stately mansion to makeshift, low-rent apartment building to eventual squatter's paradise and squalid den of iniquity. In fact, Hoffman said, it is better known to a generation of local partiers not as the Whann-Bohn House, but simply by its address: 807 Esplanade.
Things had gotten so bad, in fact, that a rear portion boat travel cover of the house had been condemned by the city and torn down. (It has since been rebuilt as part of the Hoffmans' renovation, now housing bathrooms for three residential boat travel cover "tower" suites.) A previous owner had plans to carve up the whole complex and turn it into 14 condos -- but that was before he realized exactly how exhaustive a project it would be.
So what made the Hoffmans want to step in? For Susan Hoffman, the motivation was simple: to rescue a house that deserved rescuing, a house, even when it was a wreck, she described boat travel cover as "an art piece of a wreck."
"It was beyond a flophouse at that point," Hoffman said. "And the 14 condos boat travel cover would have desecrated the house beyond all hope. ... It was fading away in such an elegant and heartbreaking way that you just wanted to do something about it."
The trick with any historic renovation, of course, is in the economics, as it costs significantly more to preserve and match original materials than to simply replace them. That's why tax credits are available boat travel cover on the state and local level: to give people a motivation to preserve rather than simply renovate.
But given the condition that the Whann-Bohn house was in, the available local and state historic-preservation tax credits, even at 51 percent, still wouldn't have been enough to make the project economically feasible. That's where the state's filmmaking tax credits came in, offering an additional 40 percent tax credit for qualifying projects that build up the state's film-industry infrastructure.
"To restore this building to what it was is also important to us, independent of what the movie industry tax credits could provide," Peter Hoffman said. "But without that, it wouldn't make much sense. ... The economics would never have justified the risks we took."
And so the house's three-story carriage house and the old three-story servant's quarters have been converted into five smaller suites, each with their own bathroom and kitchenette. In addition, four larger apartments, also with bathrooms and kitchenettes, occupy the main house along with the first-floor parlor, an ADR or "looping" stage for re-recording dialogue and a third-floor theater outfitted with industry-standard sound-mixing boat travel cover equipment.
The key to it all, Peter Hoffman said, is flexibility. The suites can be used as residences for directors and their support crew, including assistants, editors, sound mixers and the like. They can also be adapted for use as offices or editing suites for smaller productions.
"What we're trying to convince the studios of is they can do the complete sound of a $200 million picture right here," Peter Hoffman said. "Rather than going back to L.A. and doing it, they can stay and be happy. They can walk over to Frenchmen. They can go over to the French Quarter."
And that's the difference between boat travel cover the Seven Arts facility boat travel cover and the wealth of editing suites around the city. Most of those, he said, are more akin to working in a shoebox, which is why most L.A.-based filmmakers opt to return to the comforts of home for post-production at the end of principal photography. The Whann-Bohn house, however, boat travel cover offers something not available elsewhere.
So far, there are hints it's shaping up to be a case of "if you build it, they will come." The Hoffmans' feature film "Schism" has been based out of the facility as sort of a pilot tenant, and it will do its post-production work there. Then, just last month, it was announced that the independent drama "Sweetwater" being shot in New Mexico will relocate to New Orleans after filming ends, to do its editing at 807 Esplanade.
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