Turret Vision in Del Ray

When Tim Whitney's plans to enclose his front porch and add a second story were shot down, he started thinking that a rear turret would eat up less of his back yard. Some neighbors like it; others are appalled. (By Lucian Perkins -- The Washington Post)

But then the neighbor behind him, Stephanie Carroll, got wind of his plans.

Carroll, who has a degree in architectural history and works as a planner, said she was offended by his "horrendous" plan.

"I think Del Ray is all about people and their front porches. That's why we loved it," Carroll said. "I felt if we let him do this, if we all just walked straight into our living rooms, besides having architectural ramifications, it would have cultural ramifications for the community. It would have taken away what makes Del Ray Del Ray."

She gathered 13 signatures on a petition and appeared at the September 2000 variance hearing to fight his plans.

The Board of Zoning Appeals sided with her. It asked Whitney to come back one month later with new drawings.

"You could probably imagine I was a little bit annoyed with the outcome," Whitney said. "That original design, it was very nice. It was more modest, in the sense that it didn't have the tower, but I got everything I needed out of it in some other way. And I probably would have been done four years ago."

Instead, he went back to his computer and came up with a design that left the front porch as is but added a second story, which was approved a month later.

But Whitney was still steamed. He didn't really like the new design. He began toying with the idea of a circular structure, something that wouldn't take up too much of the back yard. An octagon was the perfect solution, he realized. It was a little fantastic. Sort of like a fairy tale.

And city officials didn't mind. It was far enough from the street that he could do pretty much anything he wanted. They approved the design in July 2001.

Soon, the octagon became a tower, with the kitchen on the ground level, the master bedroom on the second floor and a windowless study planned for inside the pointed roof. The tower, along with the second-floor addition, has tripled the size of his house.

Whitney discounted neighborhood gossip that he designed the turret to spite Carroll. Still, he said, "That turret is sort of compensating for not being able to use the front porch like we wanted."

Some neighbors said they were shocked once the tower began to take shape. Others thought it was goofy and kind of cool.

"Well, he's trying to make his house a castle, so who am I to say?" said Jessica Livingston, a neighbor.

But Carroll, who now lives in Connecticut, was blunt. "Yes, it's your property, but is it your right to destroy other people's views? I would say no," she said. "I think Del Ray is all about community. It's about being considerate of other people. So I think it's unfortunate that he's done something so terribly inconsiderate."

Bill Butcher is one of the original 13 signers of the petition that killed Whitney's glassed-in porch. At the time, Butcher had just finished a careful renovation of a nearby 1926 bungalow to preserve its integrity, as had many other homeowners in area -- many houses sport plaques from the National Register of Historic Places. When his family outgrew that house, they decided to move rather than add on.

"You just have to be careful when you want to oppose something," he said. "It's certainly not something I would have chosen to do. But I respect his right to build something that he'd be happy with."

Happiness may be a while coming for Whitney. Disputes with workers, the escalating cost of the project and the hours and hours of solitary hammering have put him years behind. The second-floor addition and tower don't even have drywall yet. He and his family are all crammed into what once was their living room to live, eat and sleep. The kids are not allowed to play in the yard because of the construction debris.

And who knows when or if he can mend the frayed relationships in the neighborhood he once loved so much he chose not to leave. He never sits out on his front porch, which is overgrown with ivy. Sometimes he talks to his neighbors. "Just not as many as before," he said.