In Hungerford, You Can Go Home Again

Joe and Jeannine Jeffs live in the Hungerford Towne home they bought 49 years ago. Jeannine Jeffs, who came from New Hampshire, liked the New England flavor of the development. (Photos Michael Temchine For The Washington Post)

Ask Paul Jeffs, 47, about growing up in the 1960s in Hungerford Towne, a Levittown-type subdivision just off Rockville Pike, and the story pours forth:

"It was an amazing place to grow up. There were hundreds and hundreds of undeveloped acres around us. I had an endless amount of acreage to explore -- an unlimited ability to roam free. We'd play we were pioneers or Davy Crockett. It was routine to be gone all day."

Jeffs's parents, Joe and Jeannine Jeffs, had chosen their house before it was built, selecting it from sales brochures and the model homes constructed along Rockville Pike in 1955.

At the time, the couple and their baby Denise were living in a small apartment on the second floor of a bungalow near MacArthur Boulevard in Washington. The in-town location was convenient to Joe Jeffs's work at the Georgetown University library, but with son Paul on the way, they needed more space.

There were plenty of new subdivisions popping up, but Jeannine Jeffs had definite preferences: She did not want to become lost in suburban sprawl and she wanted to be within walking distance of a real town -- a place with a main street, where she could walk to shopping, a doctor's office and movies.

One Sunday they drove out Rockville Pike to a development being marketed as having the feel of a New England town, words that appealed to Jeannine, who was from New Hampshire. The shingle-sided houses, a variation of the Cape Cod style, were small but homey, with a Colonial touch and features such as hardwood floors, pine paneling and a big country kitchen with a bay window. They were within an easy walk of a friendly main street with movie theater and hardware store, though all now are long gone. There were three models to choose from, the biggest choice being between a carport or a porch. Many had walkout basements.

To suggest the feel of a naturally growing, neighborly town, the streets were laid out with frequent courts and curves, making the homes seem to fit in with the terrain. Forty-nine years later, the homes are still nestled into their sites, and Joe and Jeannine Jeffs are still there -- in a house that expanded to fit a family of 11 (eight children and Jeannine's mother) and later was remodeled to suit the two of them. It is a house that has weathered changes; Jeannine Jeffs describes it as comfortable and reliable.

And 49 years later, the houses are still considered a bargain, compared with much of Montgomery County. While the Jeffs figured that they were getting a lot for $15,000 back in 1955, houses have sold at prices from the mid-$200,000s to mid-$300,000s over the past year, although asking prices are rising. "I get a lot of calls from people who grew up here and want to come back," said Stephanie Horwat, an agent with Long & Foster, who sells in the neighborhood.

While the area once was downright rural, today it is convenient -- within walking distance of the Rockville Metro, Rockville's Courthouse Square and Ritchie Center shopping mall, which, neighbors are quick to point out, offers a half dozen ethnic restaurants.

Sam and Beth Steel moved to Hungerford Towne about two decades ago, attracted largely by the price. "It was a second marriage for each of us," recalled Sam, "and we wanted a house that either one of us could afford on our own."

The couple are still together, but the house has undergone changes, from replacing the "seafoam green" fixtures in the downstairs bathroom to, most recently, adding a large living room so that the old living room could become a formal dining room. With a blended family, when the children were younger, the Steels had from four to six kids living or spending weekends with them. The house easily accommodated everyone. "It's the kind of house where you can tuck people in," said Beth Steel.

Being able to walk to shopping, the library or a dinner out at their favorite Spanish restaurant is a real plus, said Sam Steel, who especially likes the idea of walking to the Metro and then flying anywhere in the world -- all without stepping into a car.

Accessibility and affordability were big draws for Nancy and David Hill, who became their home's third owners in 1991.

David Hill, who is president of the Hungerford Towne civic association, also said he likes the neighborhood's "racial, ethnic, and economic diversity." On his block, he said, are an Italian family, who came to the United States on the heels of World War II, a family from Pakistan, black families, a mixed-race family, and his own family of Caucasian parents and Asian son.

Living in a house with others' imprints is a frequent source of wonder for Hill.

Stripping off wallpaper and finding multiple layers underneath -- in different patterns -- suggests the layers of others' lives, all connected to the same house. So do the children's names written above the hooks in one closet and the jury-rigged light in another closet that goes on automatically when the door is opened, reminding him of the creative engineer who once lived there.

Back when the first families moved in, the Jeffs recall, the neighborhood was teeming with children -- their eight-child family was not unusual -- and it seemed as if everyone lived outside. In the winter, the scoutmaster hosed his back yard into a skating rink; he was also the force behind the annual oyster roast, held each October in the center of one of the courts.

In the early years, the Jeffs's house backed up to woods that were gradually filled in with houses. But around them were parks and wooded land, where the boys dammed creeks and built elaborate forts for days and, in summer, weeks on end. It was those forts, said Paul Jeffs, now president of Acadia Contractors in Bethesda, that led him to become a builder.

There was also a farm nearby, with a couple of horses that the children were allowed to feed. Sometimes Rose Dawson, an elderly woman who lived in the large farmhouse her father had built in the previous century, would invite the children in to look at the Native American artifacts her family had collected when her father was an Indian agent at a Sioux reservation in South Dakota.

Today the Dawson house is still there, with a little park on one side and townhouses butting up against another. It serves as a shelter for families needing temporary housing. "The city owns the house, but the community contributes to its upkeep," Joe Jeffs said. "I've been involved in painting it. We have a church group that buys supplies. We hope it's going to be preserved."