 |
| The larger chimney (on the right) has a single stack that vents both fireplaces |
 |
| The small chimney once vented a heater used to warm the bedrooms and bathroom |
So why did Hubert Savage feel the need to do up two floor plans for his bungalow, the first dated 1933, the second 1951? The answer, I think, lies in the poor functioning of his original method of supplying heat to the building. Initially, and for a long time, he relied on open fireplaces to heat the living and dining rooms (these may also have been meant to supply heat to the kitchen as well). Accordingly, both rooms have fireplaces that are vented through a single chimney, each with its own flue - see top photo above, where the combination chimney is to the right. Savage also had a second smaller chimney constructed, framed into the walls of the bedrooms just off the central corridor. Its purpose was to vent gases from a small oil-burning stove (or paraffin heater) located in the hallway. This heater was likely intended to warm the bedrooms and the bathroom, but we don't know if it actually worked because, by the time I moved in in 1988, it was gone and the chimney was inactive. In fact, I wasn't even aware that there was a second chimney when I moved in, but soon discovered it. One of my first acts was ripping out the deep-pile-shag wall-to-wall carpets covering floors in the bedrooms and hallway (yes, deep-pile-shag was a thing for a short time, until it became evident how dysfunctional it actually was). I took it out in order to get back to the original tongue-and-groove fir flooring under it, which had never been refinished. The adhesive binding holding the underlay to the floor proved difficult to remove, while the tacking strips securing the edges of the wall-to-wall had damaged the floors slightly. Also, the installation of the wall-to-wall had come at the cost of the original quarter-round mouldings used to ease the transition between floors and tall baseboards (once the carpet was out, the rooms felt quite bare without it in place). On the plus side, removing the deep-pile shag revealed that there had once been a heater in the hallway (marks of wear on the fir flooring were evidence). Those marks led me to explore the possibility that there was a small chimney framed into the walls between the master and second bedrooms. A visit to the attic confirmed the second chimney (a fact I had not grasped in buying the house, perhaps because I would have had to venture far out into the back garden in order to see it). I also purchased the house without ever visiting the attic, for reasons stated in my September 2023 post First Impressions in Century Bungalow.
 |
| Wall jog (right) that contains the hidden chimney |
 |
| Wall jog (left) that disguises the second chimney |
 |
| The chimney that once vented a heater in the hall |
However, the two fireplaces were another matter entirely, and they may always have been substandard as sources of heat, a fact attested to by my early enthusiasm for decorative fires in the living room hearth. Although I didn't have to rely on them for heat, I could tell from the start that they weren't well-contrived to perform this function - indeed, in my limited experience, the fireplaces actually sent more heat up the chimney than they kept in the rooms. Fireplaces work by drawing oxygen over fuel, which requires a supply of air (or a draft) for proper burning; in turn, smoke, fumes and a good deal of heat go straight up the flue. The necessity of removing smoke-laden air while drawing in fresh air needs to be taken account of in design, in order to maximize the heat that remains. Henry Saylor, in his informative book Bungalows (1913), impresses on readers the necessity of ensuring "that the fireplace and its flue are built along scientifically correct lines - a fireplace that smokes is of less real practical value than a gas-log" (a gas-fuelled device that tries to imitate a real fire). In my experience, keeping a fire going in the living room hearth was an involving task, necessitating that the windows be kept slightly ajar to provide sufficient draft for reliable burning. But, if the windows were ajar, causing the fire to burn more briskly, also entailed sending more heat up the chimney. The alternative, which I found more distasteful, was to keep the windows shut and put up with a smouldering fire.
The idea of sending heat up the chimney was not unusual in bungalows built in Southern California (where the fad for bungalows first established itself) because there was no need to consider heat retention in a place without real winter. In that milieu, the meaning of the fireplace - which was often quite grand and constituted a major point of emphasis in design - was primarily social, so conceived as a place where family would gather for story-telling around the primordial flame. But these fireplaces were decidedly not about keeping the bungalow warm.
"A mystery still clings to the hearth, and it still is the centre of the world." William Lethaby, Architecture, Mysticism and Myth, 1891.
The Southern California nonchalance towards heat retention would have fared less well in Victoria, which perhaps doesn't see snow accumulate every year, but where there is nonetheless real winter and a corresponding need for sustained heat. So while the heating function could be an afterthought in a benign climate, bungalows built in locales further north, in places with real winters, typically had some form of central heating (involving a furnace that was housed in a basement). Remarkably, and rather naively in light of this reality, Savage's reliance on open fireplaces underestimated Victoria's winter severity (especially as his building was not insulated for many years, other than by the air trapped inside the cavity between the studs). I'm sure he was glad to have the rear heater to warm the back part of the house, but I'm as certain that it was often chilly in the principal rooms.
 |
Most years see some snow on the ground in Victoria, some years rather a lot |
 |
| Picture of the shed with abundant snowfall on the ground, taken in December 2022 |
It turns out, however, that the British are renowned for taking quirky approaches to heat in their homes (especially in comparison to Canada, where central heating is the norm) preferring instead to under-heat the building and offset the cold by bundling up. So Savage's misapprehension of needs may come down to this English tolerance for sub-optimal heating systems. Even today, English houses rarely take an organized approach to central heating, almost always warming only those rooms in use. For the most part, they make do with things as they are (see end notes for further reference and discussion).
 |
| Right, a fireplace that Savage relied on to heat the living room, until circa 1951 |
So the word 'inadequate' pretty much summarizes my experience of the two fireplaces: difficult to operate, consuming large quantities of wood, and generating marginal heat gains. I found myself caught in a dilemma here: should I keep the windows ajar in order to ensure sufficient draft (thus consuming more fuel) or close the windows and endure more negative outcomes? Typically, I chose to feed the fire, as it was only occasional in nature. Even so, I found myself using the fireplace less frequently due to the futility of the process. But I came to realize that this would also have been an issue for the Savages, one more trenchant back in their heyday, and which would only intensify as the years wore on.
 |
| Dining room fireplace sharing a common chimney with the living room |
As I learned from the reading I was doing to prepare for this series of posts, Savage wasn't the only English Arts and Crafts architect to struggle with heat. In fact, Philip Webb, the original Arts and Crafts architect and the designer of Red House (for William Morris in 1860) created a dwelling that, while brilliant in many respects, was simply not built for solar gain and displayed, according to author Jan Marsh, "an almost medieval disregard for heating." Its fireplaces were too small to have their intended impact, and they smoked, which was "a serious design flaw". "In 1861 the main chimneys had to be heightened in order to remedy the problem." (William Morris and Red House, by Jan Marsh, 2005). Another famous Arts and Crafts architect, C.F.A. Voysey, also relied on fireplaces for heat. He held to this idea based on an instinctive rejection of the entire notion of central heat, which he famously denounced as involving "demonical contrivances" like pipes, radiators and a furnace. As a result, he chose fireplaces to heat his buildings, but understood their scientific design well enough to build in special 'draft lines' to ensure the airflow to sustain burning. Savage, on the other hand, may not have comprehended the science behind fireplace design, and simply trusted that his mason knew how to build them properly. In any event, Savage eventually gave up on this fireplace-reliance, and started thinking more seriously about how to go about centrally heating the building (which he may already have been doing in the upper-end houses he was designing for wealthy clients, which would have had basements).
 |
| Classy home on Beach Drive designed by Savage in 1929, for W.S. Mitchell |
In the later 1990s, I reached out to Joy and Al Barth for background on the house - Joy was the Savages' only child, and she and Al were kind enough to respond to my efforts to restore her father's handiwork. Among the many gifts they sent me were two copies of the floor plan of the house, which I didn't immediately grasp the significance of. But I pored over them, grateful for information about layout and the bungalow's original features (it was from close reading of these plans that I learned there had once been a built-in radio in the living room, as well as a sideboard in the dining room). Originally I immersed myself in such details, but then I happened to notice that the two plans expressed entirely different visions for how the building was heated. Savage initially thought about introducing a system of hot-water-radiators to centrally heat it. The 1933 plan, I realized, shows a proposed placement of hot-water-fed radiators, although that plan was not enacted. It isn't clear just where Savage would have placed the furnace either, which would have been challenging as he didn't have a basement. And choosing a fuel type would also have complicated matters: coal, for example, would have required storage space for tons of the fuel, not far from the furnace either, while fuel oil would have required a storage tank placed outside the building, so a little bit more flexible but also more visible. And both fuel types would have necessitated access from some sort of driveway for deliveries, a critical factor that couldn't easily be accommodated within the existing setup. Perhaps these stumbling blocks were why the 1933 plan wasn't ever acted on? I must admit I didn't twig onto the meaning behind the two plans until I happened to focus on the first note on the 1933 version (picture below).
 |
| Detail from 1933 plan, "note: proposed h. water radiators shown thus" |
 |
| 1951 plan indicating proposed locations to install the electric wall heaters |
The 1951 plan (photo above) lays out prospective locations for a series of individual electric wall heaters, to be framed into the rooms and hallways of the bungalow (and this time the plan was carried out in short order). But even that plan, as executed, was modified to some degree, as several wall heaters wound up in different places than shown on plan (the living room wall heater, for example, was installed beside the fireplace ultimately). It's evident that the 1951 plan resolved issues to do with central heating by means of a strategy that warmed those areas that were being used. I might speculate that Savage, who by this time had become a designer of public schools (including Tolmie, Duncan High, Courtney Senior High, and with Eric Clarkson, Mount View High School) had familiarized himself with Wesix electrical wall heaters from his experience designing school buildings, then applied the technology to his own home.
 |
| Wesix electric wall-heater (on the left) in corridor |
 | ||
Master bedroom, Wesix electrical three-bar wall-heating unit (lower right) |
 |
| Kitchen unit (right, partially obscured), three-bar Wesix electrical wall-heater |
These wall heaters, manufactured in San Francisco, Seattle, and Los Angeles (among other places) by the Wesix Heater Company, became very popular throughout the Pacific Northwest, especially in the 1940s and 1950s. Known for their durability and innovative design, in the post-war boom they appeared in many homes where they offered safe, clean, efficient room-by-room heating. Marketed under the brand of "Wiredheat", they frequently replaced older, wood-based heating systems. A full-page ad in the Pacific Northwest Book of Homes for Wesix wall heaters (1949) depicts a woman lounging comfortably in an armchair beside one, with copy that runs:
"Wesix Wiredheat has brought happiness to many thousands of homes in the Pacific Northwest where natural resources and man's ingenuity have combined to place the luxury of electric heating within the reach of every homeowner. For it indeed is a luxury to have instant radiant and circulating warm air at your fingertip command, without waiting for the entire house to warm up. And there are savings too! Wesix Wiredheat is safe...clean...and famous for long, trouble-free operation. Your dealer or neighbor can testify to that."
Of course, Hubert and Alys may have acted on the problem of heat generation long before finding their ultimate solution. A simple electrical system comprised of knob-and-tube circuits had been wired into the bungalow at the time it was built. This served to supply overhead lights (or wall sconces) and power a few electrical outlets in each of the rooms. Practically from the start of such electrical systems, there were commercial devices available that allowed people to supplement their heat supply. One type of early unit for space- heating came with light-bulb-like screw-ins that one could just pop into light sockets (see picture below); I don't know that the Savages ever used such technology, but it was available early on in the history of domestic wiring (I would have had reservations myself).
 |
| These space heaters screw in like light bulbs, employing the same socket |
There were other options that soon came available too, based on using electrical supply for local heat gain (but more safely engineered than the heaters shown above). Many brands of space-heating device were being marketed, some of them quite stylish. The images below show examples of Wesix portable space heaters dating from different eras. Again, I have no idea whether the Savages used such technologies to increase their comfort levels, but they were widespread and the Savages had the electrical circuits that could make it happen (see photos below).
 |
| Deco-era vintage aluminum space-heating unit manufactured by Wesix |
 |
| 1935 Wesix space heater 'quickly warms any small room' |
 |
| Wesix space-heating unit, portable, three bars, 240 volts: very powerful |
There are other things Savage did in order to improve the bungalow's capacity to retain heat, including at some point having insulation blown into the exterior walls. The initial theory of frame construction was that the air pockets within the walls were deemed to have an insulation value. A second stage in this progression involved hiking this insulation value by filling the cavity with a fibrous substance like cellulose, which I learned had been done at the Savage bungalow. I became aware of this when examining the building after the initial repairs and prior to its repainting, when I suddenly discerned that a series of circular holes, at regular intervals, had been drilled into the drop-siding. These holes were obviously access points through which insulation could be pumped into the walls, after which they were carefully filled with wooden plugs. Given how tidy the work had been, I simply assumed that Savage must have overseen the job (I didn't know then how early he had passed away). But the energy-efficiency of buildings only became an issue as a result of the energy crisis in the early seventies, I subsequently learned. So, it may have been the building contractor who did the job who took so much care in the doing.
At some earlier point too, perhaps in the 1940s, Zonolite insulation had been added between the ceiling joists in the attic, to maximize heat retention in all the rooms (this fact is noted on the 1951 floor plan). Zonolite is a brand-name for vermiculite that came from the Libby mine in Montana, USA. It was marketed in Canada under that brand name and was widely used to insulate attics (and is very likely contaminated with asbestos, which happened to be found interspersed with the vermiculite). Later someone also added bats of fibreglass insulation above the vermiculite, which is pretty much where things stand now.
 |
| Zonolite (vermiculite) insulation visible between ceiling joists in the attic |
One additional note on the heating system I found in place when I moved in, which it should be said still operates flawlessly: the Wesix wall heaters are of such high quality that they are surely the next best thing to a furnace. Made like a true capital good - that is, to last - they simply do not readily break down. Their chief vulnerability (apart from being powerful, so they are totally unlike modern baseboard heating) is that if power happens to get cut off during a winter storm, you don't have a way to warm the building (I guess you could resort to using those fireplaces, if there was a supply of wood!). I didn't encounter this problem though in over 35 years of inhabiting the building.
When I landed there back in 1988, there was an entire wall in the utility room given over to meters whose sole function was to average the power going to particular uses. These meters served to apportion a severely constrained 60-amp service, in order that the full range of possible high-intensity uses could function, to some degree. Among my first acts in the new house was to increase the power supply to a 100-amp service, which involved, among other things, a new and larger panel with more potential circuits and no physical fuses (remember those, which you had to physically change if there was a short). This upgrading of the power supply made it possible to dispense with the wall of meters because there was now enough supply to support all uses, including the wall-heaters. As a result of the enlarged panel, I had room for new circuits, which either facilitated novel uses (like overhead electric lighting and power outlets for the attic) or replaced existing knob-and-tube circuits where new high-output uses would otherwise have been loaded onto old circuits (the most common cause of failure of knob-and-tube wiring). My initial electrician was Eddy Kop Senior, who upon seeing the wall of meters, said: "you don't see that much nowadays - but if we go to 100 amp service, you can get rid of them all". But why had this not been done sooner, I wondered? The answer I think lies in the fact that when the Wesix wall heaters came in, in the early 50s, 60-amp service was then the residential norm. Hubert Savage would have overseen their installation, before he retired from being an architect in 1954. After he passed on a year after that, his wife Alys occupied the bungalow for several more decades, and thus likely oversaw certain 'improvements', such as the shag carpets, and a full remuddling of the kitchen. When Alys herself was getting near the end of her time, she sold the bungalow to Pat Brown and her husband, sometime in the mid-1970s (see my post The Romance Of Possibility, in Century Bungalow, August 2016 for further elaboration).
Another thing worth mentioning here: I've had the wall heaters inspected thoroughly by three professional electricians, all of them seasoned journeymen: Eddy Kop Senior, Monty Gill, and David McLellan. Each raved about the installation, the quality of the basic wiring and the durability of the heaters themselves, even about the quality of the carpentry that was done around installation. The job had to have occurred while Savage was still practising architecture, shortly after the second floor plan was drawn up, and while he still had access to first-class carpentry skills, because one would never know that those heaters hadn't come with the house (I know that's an impossibility given the bungalow was built in 1913, but the quality of the install makes it appear true). I was very satisfied with this fifties heating system during my many years of dwelling there (see next photo).
 |
| Four-bar Wesix electrical wall heater in the living room shows seamless installation |
Books for Looks
Readers with access to The Globe And Mail online might want to check out the article I Thought Canada Was Cold. And Then I Moved To England, by Barry Rueger, 2025. Speaking to the quirkiness of British heating systems, it suggests the following: "the British find their greatest pride in being cold"; "I had of course heard the jokes about slippers and cardigans, and about the British obsession with not spending money on heat. What I now know is that these weren't jokes - they were the very foundations of a national culture." "What I've learned since arriving in Britain is that yes, everyone wears layers of clothing indoors, and that yes, likely only one room is heated at any time." "Like a lot of Canadians, we've spent many evenings watching programs like The Crown and Downton Abbey. In both shows the most memorable set pieces show people in deep discussion beside a roaring fireplace. What I now realize is that 10 feet away from the hearth people were likely shivering frigidly." "Because the heating systems in British homes are so spartan, almost every single room in the house - including the bathroom - has a small, plugged-in, electric heater 'to take the edge off' the cold. These inefficient little boxes do warm things up a bit, but are an expensive solution."
William Morris and Red House, Jan Marsh, 2005.
Bungalows, Henry Saylor, 1913.
W. R. Lethaby: His Life And Work, Godfrey Rubens, 1986.
Pacific Northwest Book Of Homes, 1949, full page advertisement on page 7.
