During times of unemployment I have often fallen back on my secondary occupation, that of handyman. For handyman you might think Jack of all Trades. A handyman wears many hats; Carpenter, Plumber, Electrician, Painter and general fixer. Other Handyman Adventures  In the story I’m about to tell you I started out as a painter.

My regular employer, Consolidated Rail Corporation, had recently furloughed me. Although I didn't know it at the time I would not be called back on a regular basis for almost five years. At this time my three children were in grade school and had developed the queerly adolescent habit of eating regularly, sometimes as often as three meals a day. It was time to try and find work as a handyman. I began by putting flyers on church bulletin boards, as well as going door to door with them, and taking any work I could find. And that is how I got this job painting.

An elderly widow in an old Polish neighborhood called to ask me for an estimate to paint her two car garage. She met me at the door on a fine spring afternoon and we walked around to the back. The front of the garage, the part facing into her backyard, had been painted within the last 15 years. Whoever did that job had not bothered scraping first but had merely painted over the old chipped and peeling paint. The other three sides had not been included and were in pretty sad shape with a lot of bare wood showing through. As I walked around the garage the lady followed after me and I gave her a running commentary of the work to be done as I saw it. I explained the difference between slopping on another coat of paint versus preparing the wood and then painting. I was trying to determine how much money she actually wanted to put into this project of painting her garage.

I pointed out that the roof of the garage was in pretty good shape and would probably last another 10 years. I pointed out that it was already a second roof and both the old roofs would have to be removed the next time she shingled. And I pointed out that a proper coat of paint well applied would also last about 10 years. By now we were in the alley and gazing at the fourth side of the garage. I had been debating whether or not I should mention one other thing about this garage, namely that it was falling over. It was leaning into the alley a good eight inches from vertical.

Cocking a thoughtful glance and putting one hand on my chin I wondered aloud and half to myself, "Now, why is your garage leaning into the alley?"

"Oh, it’s been like that for years." She said. "Do you think it’s going to fall over?"

"Well, I suppose not. Let’s take a peek inside and see what we see?"

What we saw was a very old and very full garage. A great deal of furniture was stored out there. The studs were on twenty four inch centers, instead of the more modern day sixteen inch. Meaning, there were not as many studs in each wall as there would be in a newer building. There was no wind bracing, or cross bracing as it is sometimes called, at all. Where the studs met the garage floor they disappeared into cement. The floor had been a later addition and poured around the studs, using the wood siding as a rough form. Not recently, as the cement was cracked and badly flaked. And at floor level the studs themselves were rotted pretty well through.

One by ten inch boards had been placed in the roof rafters and that area was also used for storage. Mostly for lumber and some additional pieces of furniture. I couldn’t help wondering, who had lugged such heavy stuff up there? Here was most of the problem and cause of the leaning. That was a lot of weight, added to a double layer of shingles, for the old walls to support. And they were definitely struggling under the load. About the only thing holding the garage upright at this point was the siding itself.

"So the question becomes, ma’am, how much longer do you want the garage to last?"

"My word, young man, at my age I don’t even know how long I’M going to last!" This was delivered with a big smile. "But let’s assume at least another ten years like the roof. What should we do?"

I gave her a price to scrape and paint, and told her I’d think about the rest. And she allowed that she would think about it, too.

Over the next two years my customers from the church, mostly old timers, kept three squares a day in front of my growing children. They liked my work, they liked my prices especially, and they told their friends about the handyman they had found. I knew that retired folks were on fixed incomes and didn’t have a lot of spare cash. I charged them accordingly. Usually about half the going rate. It paid off in spades as the referrals gradually grew to include a more affluent clientele. By the third year I was charging full rate to folks that could afford it. As well as still working for the folks that got me started.

But at the time I was considering the tilting garage, I felt lucky to have the job at all, IF I got it. With this in mind I knocked on the lady’s door two days later. "Well?" she smiled, "what do you think?"

"I think I’ll take another look at that garage."

"I’ll go with you."

Closer inspection revealed that there were places where the siding was beginning to pull away from the studs. On the plus side the garage was actually pretty well made, or it wouldn’t still be standing. The roof was set on double two by fours atop the walls. And they were ‘two’ by ‘four’, not one and three eighths by three and a quarter like today’s stud grade material. I began to get an idea.

"I’ll tell you what. If you’d like me to prepare and paint the garage, for the price I gave you the other day, I’ll see what can be done about getting it to stand straight again."

"For how much?"

"Well, I’ll just toss that in, I guess." What possessed me to say this, I’ll never know. Just that glimmer of an idea I’d had for an instant, is about all I can think of.

"When would you like to start?"

"Right now."

Washing her hands with her apron, she nodded once and stepped inside. And I was left looking at an old falling down garage that I’d swear was leaning farther today than it had been only two days ago. A wise old man once said, ‘Give me a long enough lever and I’ll move the world.’ And it occurred to me, that phrase had gone through my mind as I first looked at the garage.

The wise old man had supposed he was standing somewhere outside the orbit of Jupiter as he used his theoretical lever to move the earth. The more I looked at the garage the more it seemed I would need to make a similar arrangement. I envisioned a stout rope tied to the front corners of the garage. And then to a tree, perhaps, through a series of pulleys, and somehow pull the thing up straight. Why not?

Well, for one, no tree. The back yard was devoid of any sort of suitable solid object between the garage and the house. No tree. No stump. No pole. Just a nice sized back yard, perhaps forty feet of trim lawn divided by a small walk. Without something upon which to fasten my theoretical rope and pulleys, how could I hope to exert the kind of force that would pull a sagging building straight again? This was beginning to seem like an exceptionally fine question. One that I might have asked myself before I shot off my mouth.

"You’ve been lookin’ at that ol’ garage a long time, are you gonna’ tear it down?" A rather skinny gentleman was leaning against the fence. He had his sleeves rolled up and wore bib overalls. His shoes had no laces. He looked to be in his seventies. The next door neighbor, I gathered. "No. I’m going to paint it."

"No kidding? Needs it. Old Howard used to keep after it pretty good. He’s been gone, oh what? Fifteen years, I imagine. Heart gave out. Couldn’t do nothin’, there at the end."

"He the one carried all that stuff up into the garage rafters?"

"Yep. I helped, some. Most of that wood came from my barn. Used to set right there." Indicating his empty back yard. He turned back to survey the leaning garage. "A coat a’ paint’ll do it a world of good, if it don’t fall over first."

"Well, yeah. I was thinking about that. I’m going to try and straighten it up."

"You’re gonna’ what? Straighten it up? No way. That old garage has been sittin’ like that for the last twelve years. Ten, anyway. Leans a little more each winter. It’s ready to go. That’s why I figured you was gonna’ tear it down. But, OK then, how you gonna’ straighten it?"

"Well, I kinda’ thought if I could tie it off somewhere, and then pull it against something, you know, use a pulley and get some leverage, it oughta’ just pop right back up."

"Pop right up, eh? Heh. Well, I’d just sure like to see THAT! No wonder you were lookin’ so long and hard. Bought yourself a real chore, ya’ did. Pop right up, you say? Hoo Hoo, I don’t think so, nope, I sure don’t think so."

"Well, thanks for the vote of confidence."

"Now, don’t yer dander up. I ain’t rainin’ on your parade. You go right on thinking, and I’ll be right here watching when the big day comes. I got a world a’ faith in ya’, sonny."

I was in my late thirties at the time. But I felt like an over confident adolescent after he went back inside.

"I see you’ve met Horace. He's a nice man, helps me with the walks in the winter. Used to be a builder. He's retired, now. What’d he have to say?"

The lady had stepped back out. "He said he didn’t figure I’d ever get the garage to stand up straight again."

"Well, I was wondering about that, myself. But if you just get it painted, well, it really has been quite a few years since it started leaning. Don’t worry too much about it."

Which was awfully nice of her to say, but now I felt that there was simply no way I would ever accept anything less than a fully upright building. Sonny.

I could picture the point in space where I would like to fasten my rope, after I tied it to the corners of the garage. I had bought a hundred and fifty feet of one inch hemp, the heaviest my local hardware could produce. That investment represented all my extra cash, and it somehow also meant something more. It meant I was committed. The thought had occurred to me to just start painting, and sort of forget the rest. But with the investment of the rope, I was really going to try it. Somehow, some way I didn’t know yet, I was determined to see that garage stand up straight for the first time in ten years. I hadn’t brought the rope out of the car yet, though.

The point I could imagine was about thirty feet from the front of the garage, and about ten feet in the air. That would be the perfect place to fasten a series of pulleys. Except there was nothing there. Well, maybe I could build a series of braces, out from the base of the garage. Right. A series of braces thirty feet long, and made out of what? Maybe the wood in the rafters?

One by tens. Kind of thin. Maybe double them up? I dragged a bunch of them into the back yard and began nailing them into two by tens. The trouble was, the longest of them was less than eight feet in length.

"Buildin’ a new garage?" Horace.

"Building a mystery spot."

"Mystery spot?" I got to my feet, dusting off my knees. Wandered over to the fence. "Yeah. A spot to attach my pulley."

"Then what?"

"Well, I thought maybe I’d run off that spot to the tree beside the garage." The only solid thing anywhere near. "Come off the corners off the garage to a spot somewhere around here", holding my hand in the air where I thought the mystery spot should be, "then through a set of pulleys to the tree. Then use a come-a-long to get some pulling power."

"Hmmm. What ya’ using the old one by tens for?"

"'Cause well, ah, 'cause they’ll just have to do. You see, they're all I’ve got, and I really can’t afford to invest any, ah, cash in this project."

"Got some two by eights under my porch. Twenty footers. Thought they might come in handy for something. You can borrow ‘em if you want. Not that they’ll do you much good. But they’re better than those old one by’s you’re tryin’ to hammer up."

"Say, that’s mighty kind of you."

"I want em’ back, though, and don’t be cuttin’ on ‘em."

"Oh no, I sure won’t. Thanks again."

"No trouble. Still think you’re gonna’ get it to ‘pop right up’ eh?"

"Oh yeah. Somehow or other."

"Well, I’ll tell you what. You get that old garage to stand up straight, and I’ll buy you the biggest steak dinner you want."

"Well, uh, thanks. But you don’t have to do that."

"No problem. Don’t figure I’ll have to, sonny. Good luck."

The two by eights were a big help. He had about thirty of them under his porch. Using them I built a frame shaped like a vee that went from the bottom corners of the garage out to the mystery spot. Then I braced the frame until the small end of the ‘vee’ stood at the ten foot height I had imagined. Since I had a good supply of two by eights I doubled them into four by eights to extend them to thirty feet. I drilled holes in the corners of the garage, through the roof, and through the front just under the eaves. I finally produced my rope. I ran it through the holes and around the header at the corner of each wall, twice. About twenty feet out I merged the two ropes coming off the corners into one. I knew that I had an old boat pulley kicking around in my basement. It took some serious searching, but once located, it was fastened to the end of the wooden ‘vee’ brace. I ‘borrowed’ from my son’s piggy bank to buy one more pulley. My gut instinct called for two pulleys. Run the rope through one pulley at the end of the ‘vee’ and then to the second pulley attached to the tree by the side of the garage. Actually, attached to my come-a-long, which was attached to the tree. If you’ve never seen a come-a-long, it’s a mechanical pulley itself. A hook fastened to some quarter inch braided wire cable goes through a couple pulleys that are cranked by a handle attached to a ratchet. A second hook is on the ratchet housing assembly. Attach the hooks to two things that you want to bring closer together and start cranking. I used it to stretch fence fabric, fencing being another handyman sideline.

It looked pretty bizarre. Rube Goldberg in the extreme. Jury rigged contraption from hell. Ropes from the upper corners of the garage to the end of the ‘vee’ framework, through two pulleys to the come-a-long attached to the tree beside the garage. Out, through, and back again. Not a straight pull, but the best I could think of under the circumstances.

"Well, well. Whatcha’ got goin’ there, sonny – looks like a spider web?"

"Does look kinda’ weird, I’ll admit that."

"Nice piece a rope ya’ got."

"Yep. I just hope it’s strong enough."

"When ya’ aim to find out?"

"Well, I guess right about now."

"Really? Ok! Great! I’ll just stand back over here away from that rope and wish you the best! Maybe it’ll pop right up, huh?"

After double checking all the rope, connections, pulleys, knots and cable hooks, I started cranking the come-a-long, taking up the slack. Each swing of the handle took up a couple inches of rope. After about five minutes of cranking I finally began to feel some resistance as the ropes came taut. I kept cranking. And cranking. The handle was beginning to be pretty hard to crank when I decided to check things again. I was just a bit worried, at this point. Everything was very tight and the garage had given absolutely no sign of moving at all. Just a few creaks and groans. I took my hammer and tapped the one inch hemp. It twanged like a guitar string. I gave the quarter inch cable a tap – it fairly zinged! Boing! They both seemed pretty darn tight. Maybe too tight?

"No luck, huh?"

"Just checking the rope. There’s still some pull left, I think."

"You gonna’ crank it anymore?"

"Just a bit. Just a little bit more. See what happens."

Horace moved off behind the protective corner of his back porch. I tried not to think of the consequences of the rope or cable letting go. . . it would be one heck of a snap. . . or the two by eights, I hadn’t even checked them. Walking gingerly, though I don’t know why, I also tapped the wooden framework with my hammer. It gave off a very hollow sounding tone, that seemed to ring on for several moments, as the vibrations ran out the wood to the base of the garage, and back up again to me. Finally I checked the corner of the garage. The ropes were cutting into the wood and shingles. Geez, was the corner going to pull out? If something gave would the garage topple right into the alley? Walking back to the come-a-long I was having really serious doubts. What made me think that wood, bent over years into a certain shape, was going to suddenly go back to the way it had been before? Pop right up? Sonny.

I gave Horace a smile and a wave. He nodded from his position of safety. And I cranked on, one two, three more cranks pulling almost as hard as I could. Moans and creaks from the wood, but which wood? The ‘vee’ framework? The garage? Another pull, hard over until the ratchet caught again. Enough. I stepped back. And tapped some more. The sounding notes that came off the rope were several tones higher, and the wire cable fairly sang like a tenor. I walked up to the garage. Put my hand on it. I imagined I could feel it wanting to stand up. What was holding it? Everything, I thought. It has settled into its leaning position over time, and now the siding was holding it from coming back up, as well as from falling over. I thought that if I could just hit it with a big hammer, somehow give it a good shake, then the vibrations might let it give a little. I walked around and into the alley. The garage leaned out at me. Why don’t you move, I thought?

Then I saw the railroad ties. Two of them. Across the alley, one door down. I went and brought one back and set it along the ground at the base of the garage. This side had the double garage doors. A header ran the width of the garage to accommodate the swinging doors, and heavy old things they were. Bolted shut these last fifteen years. Going back into the yard I grabbed a two by eight and went back to the alley. I lay the two by eight at a right angle over the center of the railroad tie. My lever. I went back to the other railroad tie, and dragged it over, too. I slid it onto my lever and up against the garage. Then I carefully stood it up on end. It just slid in under the eaves, which were attached firmly to the header. As the weight of the railroad tie came onto the lever, its far end went up into the air. Way up. About twelve feet. I had to get a chair to stand on to reach it. But reach it I did.

"Whatcha’ gonna’ do?"asked Horace.

"Move the world."

When I pulled down on my end of the lever the upright railroad tie pushed against the eaves. Gradually I applied more pressure, and saw the whole back end of the garage rise up ever so much. I was moving several thousand pounds of building. Such is the power of the lever. Releasing my end suddenly allowed the garage to drop back to earth with a solid clunk. And I thought I detected some upright movement, perhaps just a wee bit. Going back around I tried the hammer again, and sure enough, the tone of the rope and cable had dropped a bit lower. So I cranked on the come-a-long one more time. And then back to the alley, where I again lifted the back of the garage and let it drop. I did this several times and each time the whole building gradually went upright. Back around to tighten the ropes, crank on the come-a-long, back to the alley to bounce the garage. After several repetitions, that old garage was standing straight up. I walked triumphantly into the back yard. The lady was at her back door, smiling.

"Well I’ll be a monkeys uncle," said Horace, "now whatcha’ gonna do?"

"Well, sir, I believe I’m going to pop it up just a little past true and brace it." And I did. I kept pulling and bouncing until the garage actually leaned into the back yard a couple inches. Then slipped inside and nailed some one by tens across the studs at a forty five degree angle. I took down my lever and railroad ties. Returning to the back yard I admired my handiwork. Now came the true test. In front of the lady, and Horace, and several neighbors that had come to see the fun, I flipped the latch on the come-a-long ratchet and began to crank it, now releasing the tension. As the pressure came off the ropes the garage moved back towards the alley. A collective groan went up from my audience. I kept cranking, watching and feeling the tension on the ropes. Just as the garage hit straight up the slack came into the system, and the pressure was gone. I stepped to the corner of the garage by Horace, with my level in hand. I held it against the wall where he could see it. The bubble was dead center.

"Dang thing popped right up, didn’t it?"

"Just a matter of physics, Horace, and a long enough lever. Now about that steak dinner?"

"Yessir," he said. "It's on me."