Ever noticed a house that looked simply a little too high, small or near its neighbor? You might have just spotted a spite house.
Developed particularly to annoy or distress others, the spite houses that dot the U.S. are enduring monuments to everything from family feuds to zoning disputes.
Spite houses are not built to be practical. Rather, the homes were designed for a series of functions from warding away loiterers to making a next-door neighbor’s presence miserable.
Here are 9 of the most bitter homes ever built in the U.S.
. The 10-foot-wide 1905 home known as the Alameda Spite Home was expected to be a mansion.
Landowner Charles Froling imagined building a grand home on his sizable lot in Alameda. Before he could start on his dream home, the city seized the majority of the property owner’s land to build a street, according to Atlas Obscura. Undeterred, Froling constructed the only home he could: one that squeezed 1,135 square feet of living area onto the small spot of land that stayed.
The blocky house built right against the road at 2528 Christ Street compromised on area but not vision. The house has a jettied second floor, a pitched roof and green siding with purple accents.
. To what lengths would you go to keep those darn kids off your residential or commercial property? For John Hollensbury, the response was 7 by 25 feet, the measurements of the spite home he built in the 1800s.
Hollensbury survived on Queen Street beside an open alley. Fed up with loiterers and horse-drawn wagons cutting past his house, Hollensbury constructed a house to keep passerby out of his alley at last.
Your home’s size is not its only uncommon attribute. According to The New York City Times, scrapes from wagon wheels can be seen on the home’s living-room walls, which were when the sides of the street.
The bright blue structure has actually not been on the market in some time. Its longtime owner uses the two-story landmark as a pied-a-terre.
According to Boston legend, when an unnamed soldier returned from the Civil War to discover that his brother had snatched most of their late daddy’s land, he didn’t get mad. He got narrow.
The soldier is said to have actually constructed a 1,166-square-foot house in the 449-square-foot lot that remained of his home. Now referred to as “The Skinny House,” the four-floor house at 44 Hull Street steps simply over 10 feet at its widest point.
Why go through all that trouble to develop such a bothersome home? According to legend, the building accomplished one passive act of hostility: the slender house was just high enough for the initial owner to block the sun from his sibling’s lawn, Boston Publication reported. Despite its little size, the house has ended up being a landmark in Boston. The Skinny House cost $900,000 in 2017.
triangle-shaped lot in a 24-hour duration. The dispute over streets ended long ago, but your home still stands over one century later. The home offered in 2015 for $355,000.
irritate the next-door neighbors, according to Boston Publication. Before it was a building, legend says the tiny parcel on the corner of Appleton and Concord was owned by Francis O’Reilly. With a house abutting his unused land to the east, O’Reilly attempted to offer the parcel to his next-door neighbor.
When the neighbor refused to purchase it, O’Reilly developed the uncomfortable eight-foot broad property, which is today occupied by an interior design company.
Thisisbossi– Wikimedia Commons Dr. John Tyler did not want to be disturbed. It was the early 1800s, and Tyler was distressed when city planners outlined a roadway extension directly through his land. In an effort to obstruct the street, Tyler discovered a legal loophole that said a roadway could not be built if a substantial structure was positioned in its course, according to the Los Angeles Times. Building on the home began practically right away later. Tyler never resided in the structure, which was completed in 1814, renting it out
instead. Today, the three-story estate still stands at the end of Record Street– obstructing what would have been the extension. In recent years, the house has actually been used as a bed and breakfast known as Tyler’s-Spite House.
< div class ="image-wrap-container clearfix “readability=”7”> Cervin Robinson/Historic America– Library of Congress The towering 1806 estate is undeniably extravagant, which is the precise impression Thomas McCobb wished to make– and rub in his prolonged family’s face. McCobb’s story begins with his daddy, James McCobb. According to the
National Register of Historic Places, James– who wed three times and fathered 15 kids– owned 2 properties in Phippsburg, Me.: a log cabin and a lovely estate. Thomas, successor to his father’s fortune, went to sea soon after his dad’s death only to return and discover that his stepbrother was now the owner of the sprawling estate. Not one to take the loss of his home lightly, McCobb plotted a grand estate of his own simple feet away from that of his stepbrother.
Years later, the home was bought and moved from its initial place in Phippsburg to its current address in Rockport.
While the origin of the Pie House has been lost to time, its legacy is inextricably connected to ill will. Descriptions for the uncommon home range from a bitter divorce fight for land ownership to a realty offer failed.
According to Zillow, the home’s original owner offered the land to the couple next door for a higher cost than the neighbors wanted to pay. When the neighbors made a much lower counter deal, the upset homeowner developed the triangular home and, as a final act of malevolence, painted the back wall black.
The house has actually been on and off the market for many years. It last sold in July 2016 for $500,000.
What do you do when the newest grand Victorian on your street blocks your million-dollar view? Ask Jason Downer, a judge who resided in Milwaukee in the middle of the 1800s, and he may encourage developing a 2nd estate out of malice.
The year Downer moved into the elaborate estate that still stands on Prospect Opportunity today, a new neighbor destroyed a small frame next door. The next-door neighbor utilized the land to construct a three-story townhouse that obstructed Downer’s view of a close-by water fountain, Urban Milwalkee reports. In retaliation for the loss of his preferred view, Downer got to deal with a second building at the very edge of his property. The resulting spite home at 1223 N. Possibility Avenue blocks the townhouse’s sunlight and is so near to the structure it touches. More than a century later on, the uncommon house is now an office building.Source: money.com