Hubert Savage, Architect (6)

 

 

 

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 annotate two sets of 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 very long time, he relied on open fireplaces for heat in the living and dining rooms (the fireplaces may also have been meant to supply heat to the kitchen as well). Accordingly, both rooms have fireplaces that vent through a single chimney, each with a separate flue - see top photo above, where the combination chimney sits to the right. Savage also had a second smaller chimney constructed, framed into the walls of two bedrooms just off the central corridor. It was to vent gases given off by a small oil-burning stove (or a paraffin heater) located in the hallway. This heater was 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 long 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 after discovered it. One of my first acts upon arriving was ripping out the deep-pile-shag wall-to-wall carpets covering floors in the three bedrooms and hallway (yes, deep-pile-shag was a thing for a short time, until it became evident how dysfunctional it really was). I took it out in order to get back to the original tongue-and-groove fir flooring under it, which to that point had not 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 wooden floors slightly. Also, the installation of the wall-to-wall had come at the price of sacrificing the original quarter-round mouldings that eased 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 the 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 quite far out into the back garden in order to see it). I also purchased the house without ever visiting the attic, for reasons given in my September 2023 post First Impressions in Century Bungalow.

 

Wall jog (right) containing the hidden chimney

Wall jog (left) that disguises the second chimney

The second chimney that vented the hallway heater

 

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 having decorative fires in the living room hearth. Although I didn't have to rely on the fireplaces for heat, I could tell from the start that they weren't particularly well-contrived to perform this function - indeed, in my limited experience, the fireplaces actually sent more heat up the chimney than they held 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 are sent 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 imitates a real fire). In my experience, keeping a fire going in the living room hearth was involving, necessitating that the windows be kept slightly ajar in order to provide sufficient draft for reliable burning. But, if the windows were ajar, causing the fire to burn more briskly and use more fuel, it also entailed sending more heat up the chimney. The alternative, which I found even more distasteful, was to keep the windows shut and endure a smouldering fire. 

 

The idea of sending heat up the chimney was not unusual in bungalows that were 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 a real winter. In that milieu, the meaning of the fireplace - which was often quite grand, constituting a major point of emphasis in design - was primarily social, thus conceived as a central place where family would gather to share stories 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 focal point of the main living area is invariably the fireplace, usually located for maximum visibility and impact, and forming a kind of altar to the cult of of hearth and home that is fancifully associated with bungalow living." Paul Duchscherer, The Bungalow, America's Arts and Crafts Home, 1995.

 

 

This Southern California nonchalance about 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 locales with real winters, typically came with some form of central heating (involving a furnace 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 within 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.  

 

 

"The greatest single factor making the Comfortable House comfortable was central heating." Alan Gowans, The Comfortable House. 

 

 

 

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 quirky approaches to heating 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 the 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 that are 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 these 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 considerably more fuel) or close the windows and endure the 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 over time I came to realize that this would also have been an issue for the Savages, one more trenchant back in their heyday, and one that 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 in preparation 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 most 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 the 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 heating, which he famously once denounced as involving "demonical contrivances" like pipes, radiators and a furnace. As a result, he chose fireplaces for heat in 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 the fireplace-reliance, and began 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 wealthier 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 annotated 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 happened to notice that the two plans expressed entirely different visions for heating the building. Savage initially thought about introducing a system of hot-water-radiators to centrally heat it. The 1933 plan, I eventually realized, shows a proposed placement of hot-water-fed radiators, although it was never carried out. It isn't clear just where Savage would have placed the furnace either, which would have been challenging as he didn't have access to a basement. And choosing a fuel type would have complicated matters further: coal, for example, would have required storage space for heaps of fuel, not far from the furnace either, while fuel oil would have required a storage tank placed outside the building, so a bit more flexible but also highly visible. And both fuel types would have necessitated access from some sort of driveway to enable the delivery, a critical factor that wouldn't easily be accommodated with the existing infrastructure. Perhaps these stumbling blocks were why the 1933 plan wasn't acted on? I must admit I didn't twig onto the meaning behind the two plans until my eyes came to rest 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 (but this time the plan was carried out, in short order). But even that plan, as executed, was modified to a degree, as several wall heaters wound up in different locations than indicated 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 only those areas that were being used. I could speculate that Savage, who by this time was an accomplished 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 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 declares: 

 

"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 arriving at the 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 room. 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 electricity to warm space (more safely engineered than the heaters shown above). Many brands of space-heating device were being marketed, some 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 readily available and the Savages had the electrical circuitry to 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 insulation value. A second stage in the progression involved hiking this value by filling in the cavity with a fibrous substance like cellulose, which I discovered had actually been done at the Savage bungalow. I became aware of this while examining the building after the initial repairs and prior to its full repainting, when I discovered that a series of circular holes, at regular intervals, had been drilled into the drop-siding. The holes were obviously access points through which insulation could be pumped into the walls, after which they had been carefully filled with wooden plugs. Given how tidy the work was, I simply assumed that Savage must have overseen the job (I didn't know back 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 actually did the job that 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, in order to maximize heat retention in the rooms below (this fact is annotated on the 1951 floor plan). Zonolite is a brand-name for vermiculite originating at the Libby mine in Montana, USA. It was marketed in Canada under that brand name and was widely used to insulate attics (and is also very likely contaminated with asbestos fibre, which was interspersed with the vermiculite seams). Later someone also added bats of fibreglass insulation above the vermiculite, which is pretty much where things stand today.

 

 

Zonolite (vermiculite) insulation visible between ceiling joists in the attic

 

 

One additional note on the heating system 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 having an actual furnace. Made on the model of a true capital good - that is, to last a long time - they simply do not readily break down. Their chief vulnerability (apart from being powerful, making them totally unlike modern baseboard heaters) 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 you had a supply of wood!). I didn't encounter this problem though in over 35 years of living there.

 

When I first landed there in 1988, there was an entire wall in the utility area given over to meters whose sole function was averaging 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 thus 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 - you had to physically replace them 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 sufficient supply to support all uses, including those wall-heaters. As a result of the enlarged panel, I had room for additional circuits too, which either facilitated new uses (like overhead electric lighting and power outlets in 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 fire with knob-and-tube wiring). My initial electrician was Eddy Kop Senior, who upon seeing the wall of meters, said to me: "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 thought? The answer I think lies in the fact that when the Wesix wall heaters came in, in the early 50s, 60-amp service was still the residential norm. Hubert Savage would have overseen their installation, before he retired from architecture in 1954. After he passed on a year later, his wife Alys occupied the bungalow for several more decades - thus likely overseeing certain 'improvements', like the shag wall-to-wall and a comprehensive 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 their installation, the quality of the wiring and the durability of the heaters themselves, even about the high-quality carpentry that was so well done. The installation had to have been done while Savage was still practising architecture and while he had access to first-class carpentry skills, because one would never know that those heaters hadn't come with the original house (I know that's an impossibility given it was built in 1913, but the quality of the install makes it seem 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.

 

The Bungalow, America's Arts and Crafts Home, Paul Duchscherer, 1995.