Imagine being able to order an entire house just like you would order a book or a toy—flip through a catalog, choose the picture you like best, and a few weeks later receive a package containing numbered boards, windows, and even nails that you can use to build a real home. That is exactly what happened in Seattle more than a hundred years ago, and it is why the city now has entire streets lined with identical, cozy houses with porches known as Craftsman bungalows. This is a story about the dream of a simple, comfortable home—a dream that eventually turned into something rare and highly desirable.
A City That Grew Too Quickly
At the end of the nineteenth century, an extraordinary event took place: the Klondike Gold Rush. Thousands of people from across America left their homes and traveled north through Seattle to Alaska in search of gold. Some found wealth, while others did not, but many eventually stayed in Seattle because the city was the last stop before the long journey and became a new home for many of them.
As a result, the city’s population grew incredibly quickly. Imagine your class suddenly having three times as many students as usual—that is roughly how fast Seattle’s population increased. The city needed a great many new homes, and they had to be built quickly and inexpensively so that ordinary families—a teacher, a shopkeeper, or a factory worker—could afford them.
The House That Arrived by Train
An unusual idea came to the rescue. Construction companies, the most famous of which was Sears, Roebuck and Co., began publishing special catalogs in which people could choose a house they liked, just as they might choose a dress or toy from a picture. All the parts of the house—boards, windows, doors, shingles, and even nails—were then delivered by train in enormous wooden crates. Each part was marked with a number so builders would know exactly where to attach it, much like the instructions for a construction set.
The most popular style was known as Craftsman: a simple, low house with a wide porch, a sloping roof, and wooden beams deliberately left exposed to show that the house was built honestly and simply, without unnecessary decoration. Such a house was called a bungalow—a word that originally came from India and referred to a small, cozy home with a veranda.
The architect Jud Yoho, one of those who designed similar houses in Seattle at the time, expressed the idea roughly like this: a house should be “for living in, not for showing off.” That perfectly captures the spirit of the bungalow—not luxury on display, but simple family warmth.
From a Home for Everyone to a Dream Home
The most interesting part of this story is how the fate of these little houses changed. When they were first built, from 1905 through the 1920s, they were ordinary, affordable homes—almost like a typical new-build apartment today. Teachers, shopkeepers, and workers at shipyards and sawmills bought them. A house cost roughly the equivalent of several years of an ordinary salary—not free, but affordable enough for a working family.
Today, everything has changed beyond recognition. Neighborhoods filled with these bungalows—Wallingford, Rainier Valley, and parts of Capitol Hill—have become some of the city’s most popular and expensive areas. People specifically search for houses with porches and wooden beams because they look cozy and “authentic,” like homes from a children’s storybook.
| Early 20th Century | Today | |
|---|---|---|
| Who bought the houses | Workers, teachers, shopkeepers | Affluent families, antiques collectors |
| How people obtained them | Ordered from a catalog and delivered by mail | Already-built houses purchased as finished properties |
| Status of the house | Ordinary, affordable housing | A symbol of comfort and good taste; an expensive rarity |
The result is both amusing and a little sad: the very same house that was once a simple and affordable “home for everyone” has now become a dream for which people are willing to pay a great deal of money.
The Little House That Preserves Time
It seems to me that this story contains an important lesson. The house itself has not changed—the same wooden beams, the same porch, the same sloping roof. What changed was the way the city and the people around it began to live. Something that was once simple and ordinary gradually became rare and special, simply because houses like these are no longer being built and the city around them has grown and changed so dramatically.
If you ever find yourself walking through the streets of a real American city and see a small, neat house with a wide porch and wooden beams beneath the roof, remember: that house may once have arrived in pieces by train, packed in a wooden crate and numbered like a giant construction set, before being lovingly assembled by an ordinary family more than a hundred years ago.
