A Bell And A Vista -- A Spirited Make-Over Turns A Tired Green Lake Church Into A Lifetime Home

IN LATE 1996, Rob Coburn and Katie Sako were poised to set remodelers loose on their vintage house near the former Bathhouse Theatre in the Green Lake district. Then Coburn saw an old church for sale nearby.

He walked through the building's generous spaces. He climbed a ladder to the belfry, where he peered through chicken wire to the horizon. There he beheld the lights on the Space Needle, and on the towers of Queen Anne, and on the University District insurance building. He saw the shimmering tennis courts and soccer fields near the glowing waters of Green Lake.

And he called it good.

As Coburn drove home, a voice in his head whispered: "How terrible if someone put two skinny houses there."

There was no kitchen. There were no bedrooms. The only plumbing was in the basement, where there were drinking fountains, two toilets, a couple of sinks and the pipe for the hot-water radiators. This was a church and church school at the end of its useful life.

But Coburn and Sako were not deterred. They called off the remodelers and bought the vintage 1914 fixer for $450,000.

"We were primed to do this," Sako reflects. "We had a willingness to renovate."

Today, the institutional look is gone. The completely remodeled building, now the Coburn-Sako home, holds the high ground three blocks up from the north end of the lake. Despite its bulk (5,000 square feet), it's in scale with this neighborhood where large houses of similar vintage have been restored. The curb view suggests this is a revamped Craftsman with upgraded windows and a stylish covered porch, all of it sheathed in ship-lap and cedar-shingle siding stained in muted browns. There is a cupola-cum-bell-tower centered above the porch, but it's understated.

Yet look a little closer, and there are plenty of signs that this is not a typical Green Lake bungalow, starting with the formal entry that reflects the generous proportions of the rest of the house. A Craftsman-style front door 3 1/2 feet wide and nearly 3 inches thick opens onto an office-size vestibule with inlaid hardwood floor, freestanding oak closets, wainscoting and a wide-open portal to a great room, the former sanctuary. A bell cord drops through a hole in the ceiling and coils in a brass umbrella stand.

The house has four bedrooms, 2 1/2 baths and a vintage/modern-style kitchen with ceramic-tile floor and fir cupboards. A "brother-in-law" apartment in the daylight basement comes complete with brother-in-law and family. When the children pop upstairs to the main floor, they arrive shouting, "Knock, knock!" It's a happy arrangement.

The all-new second floor, with master bedroom, large closet, bath and access to the belfry/balcony, incorporates wainscoting in the bedroom and bead-board trim around the tub and bathroom sink. There's a clear view of Mount Rainier from the bedroom, clouds willing.

The old belfry was completely rebuilt into a stylish deck; a lowered floor captures the best view. The centerpiece here is the original bronze church bell, cast in the late 1800s.

"It took four guys and a boom to swing the bell over and an engine hoist to lift it into position," Coburn remembers. "Kids rang it a lot on New Year's Eve."

As you might expect, a church-to-house conversion poses unique problems. Large spaces, for instance, need to be tamed. The old sanctuary, at 32 feet square, was a challenge, but there was a solution: a curvaceous double staircase and an oversize fireplace step into the room from an interior wall.

This moderates the ballroom effect, yet it's still plenty roomy here. An oak dining table has stretched to 15 feet for festive occasions.

The ceiling is 20 feet high at center and 15 feet where it meets the walls. The couple plan to add a chandelier to temper the ceiling height a bit, but will rely on conversation and laughter to warm the corners.

Although the structure had lots of square footage, not all of it was rightly allotted for a house. To avoid cutting into the old main-floor classroom (now the family room), they added 10 feet to the back of the building to make a kitchen suitable for a long, slate-topped counter where guests can gather when the pair work at the cooktop just opposite.

Though this was the couple's first remodel, they were not intimidated by the complications. Sako, an employee at Microsoft, radiates calmness. And Coburn, who works in Seattle for a retail planning and design firm, had trained as an architect at the University of Washington (although he is not accredited). He also had worked summers for an uncle, an architect in the Bay Area with experience restoring public buildings.

That uncle, Bill Coburn, became the architect for this project. All three were involved in the planning and agreed that not everything would be drawn ahead. They wanted flexibility to decide how things might work best as the job progressed. Cleanup, permits and planning took a year, and the remodel took another year. The first problem was how to find a contractor who would make a bid.

"Other, simple jobs were plentiful, and this work would be challenging," Sako recalls. The only way to get a top-notch contractor, finally, was to job it on a time-and-materials basis. Fairbank Construction Co. of Bainbridge Island became general contractor. "We knew we were going to take it down to the studs," Coburn says.

The fir framing was high-quality and in excellent condition. They remilled excess wood for trim and reused molding over doors and elsewhere, though mostly new finishing materials were incorporated to honor the style of the original building. Nice detail work was important to them.

They'd gotten to know the feel of their future home in the first year as they cleaned and hauled. The seller left behind truckloads of detritus as a condition of sale, including hundreds of out-of-date textbooks, wall-mounted blackboards, 18-foot-long wooden pews and a classic outdoor swing set that the neighborhood kids were sorry to see go. (The area was cleared for a new garage.)

Sako and Coburn kept the blackboards and a couple of pews and disposed of most of the rest. The house is sparsely furnished, and they like it that way.

Though it cost more than they expected, they realized their goals and have a top-quality home. There is the practical kitchen, well-used family room and adjacent office - the cozy spots on the sunny side of the house. Vintage lights, window treatments, moldings and the classroom blackboard on the wall - chalked with phone numbers and reminders - all reflect the spirit of the original building in a pleasing, simple way.

They have made their own sanctuary. As Sako says, "We'll live here for 60 years."

Dean Stahl is a Seattle writer and editor. Barry Wong is a Seattle Times staff photographer.