Moving houses and other large objects

Ken Herman, a writer for the American-Statesman, recently published a lengthy report about the trials and tribulations of moving a synagogue built in 1893 from Brenham to Austin. It seems that it has been many years since there was a minyan (a quorum of ten) Jews to assemble for prayer, let alone a Rabbi, in Brenham. The last remaining members of that synagogue, an elderly couple, set out to move the building to the campus of the Dell Jewish Community Center in Austin, where it would once again be put to use.

Herman pointed out that it was widely recognized that in all likelihood, a new structure could have been built for less than the cost of moving the existing building, but money was not the point. Tradition, as Tevye would say, and generational continuity was the point.

Before long, those involved began to feel that something, or Somebody, didn't want the structure moved. Bad weather, rain, labor disputes, permits, trees, utility lines, mailboxes and local police all contributed to numerous and costly delays, but finally, after a year's preparation, over a period of a couple of weeks, the 3 parts of the house of worship were successfully transported and reunited in Austin on Valentine's day. There is an hour-long documentary that Ken made of the move which you can watch here. I found it fascinating,  but the rest of you may have a life.

The story triggered a couple of memories for me. First, moving houses of any kind is a dying industry. When I was young, it was a regular and normal occurrence, and a fun thing to watch as houses made their way down the main street of my hometown, on the way to some other location. Of course building methods and architectural styles are the primary reason - today's houses are most often built on a concrete slab. In my youth, most houses were on piers with a crawl space beneath the floor; much easier to pick up and haul away.

Mind you, it is possible to move big buildings. I cannot verify this story, but I remember my father talking about the telephone exchange in downtown Dallas being moved, while the operators were still in it and phone service continued! Moved only a few feet, to allow for the widening of Main Street, it was nevertheless a prodigious feat.

Which brings me to my second thought. House movers and Telephone men do not get along. Like cattlemen and shepherds, there was always a range war when a building came through town. Snagging lines, or worse, cables, was a common occurrence. Though often there were men on top of the structure to facilitate sliding underneath the lines, they sometimes could not reposition the line far enough, and that's when they called my father.

I remember his being called out late one late, and I rode along with him to the scene of the crime. Only a few blocks away from our house, a mover had snagged - and damaged - a cable suspended across Walker street, the main thoroughfare through town. The mover was still trying to pull his truck free, continuing to scrape the cable across the rooftop when we got there. And that night I saw something I had never seen before, and never saw again. I saw my father get angry!

My placid, peace-loving, gentleman-to-the-core father was livid! He climbed up on the running board of the truck, yelling at the driver, and for a moment I thought he was going to physically pull the man from the cab of the truck! I don't remember anything else about the episode, but I never see or read about a building up on those big steel rails but I don't think of my father and the night they tried to pull his cable down.