So Tight-Knit, It's Okay to Make the Neighbor's Place Smell ... Like Turkey

After many years living in Georgetown and Columbia Heights, Lynda Couvillion and Michael Seidman were certified city dwellers, accustomed to close-in living.

Seeking easier transportation options for their then-teenage daughter, they moved in 1992 to their duplex in North Cleveland Park in Northwest Washington. Today Seidman commutes to his job in Baltimore, but Couvillion retired three years ago from the Department of Agriculture, and she said she appreciates urban life even more now.

"I use the whole city, but we have so many good friends right here," she said, explaining that, like neighbors everywhere, they watch out for one another, pet-sit when necessary and borrow the occasional cup of something.

She said she realized just how supportive her community is when her oven broke down one November, just as she was beginning to prepare the big Thanksgiving meal.

"Since one of my neighbors was away for the holiday, I was able to do all my cooking over there. Of course, I left them a note explaining why their house might smell like turkey when they got home!"

While similar good-neighbor stories could be found anywhere, North Cleveland Park has the bonus of those three special features touted so often by real estate agents: location, location and location.

Served by three Metro stops and by buses along Connecticut and Wisconsin avenues, and with shops and restaurants within walking distance, North Cleveland Park really is in the middle of everything.

The neighborhood is a mix of several subdivisions built shortly before World War II. As its name implies, it's north of the better-known community of Cleveland Park. The homes in North Cleveland Park are more modest and newer than those just to the south but older than those in Chevy Chase and American University Park, neighborhoods that were built during and immediately after the war.

There are three primary clusters of housing types. At the southern end, along Reno Road, is a three-block enclave of upscale detached houses, some with swimming pools, ornate gardens and the occasional private tennis court, that share the designation of Springland Farm. Then there are the large brick duplex townhouses lining Veazey, Van Ness, Warren and Windom streets, built in the 1920s. Finally, there are modest townhouses and a small number of detached houses filling in the spaces. Also, a part of the neighborhood is taken up by the large multinational embassy complex along Van Ness Street.

While the 90 single-family houses on Upton and Tilden streets and Springland Lane can be considered part of this neighborhood, as Springland Farm they share a common history.

Chuck Ludlam, a retired Capitol Hill lawyer, moved to the neighborhood 21 years ago as a single man and began researching the history. He soon learned that his property sat on what was once a family-owned vineyard that included the two streets next to his own. "We are bound together by history; otherwise we are just three random streets, but it is literally part of an historic place," Ludlam said. "For example, there's an old spring house on Springland Lane, and it's one of only three remaining in the District."

Ludlam and his wife, Paula Hirschoff, a writer and editor who teaches at the University of the District of Columbia, are both two-time Peace Corps volunteers. Their more recent experience, living in Senegal for 2 1/2 months, impressed on them, Hirschoff said, the "basic human need to have a community."