A proper flight of stairs



Was wrapping carpet through spindles ever really in style?

You simply cannot have a "Proper Tea Room" if the grand staircase below it is a decades-old mess created by a sloppy builder. As mentioned in my 2011 room-addition blog, the cheesy carpet wrapping through stair spindles is an apartment-grade design that has bugged me and Anne since we bought our house in 1991.

Thus, I have embarked on a summer-fall project to build an oak stairway and install hardwood flooring on the landing, in the Tea Room, and in the office.

Did someone change their motor oil on this landing?

I decided to tackle this project after a dismal encounter with a contractor.  You know the type.  He pulled up in his van, sat outside smoking for 15 minutes, then waddled in with a battered briefcase that looked like something used for selling Bibles half a century ago. (Think "Paper Moon.")

The guy pulled out his one and only sample – bullnose oak tread – and told me, with great authority and attitude, how he was going to edge the stairs in wood so that I could run carpet up the middle.  It would cost me almost $10,000, and if he broke any of the existing spindles I would have to pay for their replacement.  (Where is the incentive for him remove the spindles carefully if I'm on the hook to pay for what he breaks?)

He gave me no choices on any of the wood trim.  It was his way or the highway. Oh, and he wasn't even going to do the work himself. Nor supervise it.

The dismal encounter gave me confidence that I should just do the job myself –– entirely in wood. I made some rough calculations that I could do the project for about $2,000. So I'm off to the races!

Step 1: Rip out nasty carpet, padding, and about 1,000 staples, nail, tack-strips, and icky padding.

Left: well-worn lower stairs. Right: The upper landing was formerly an open bridge. The left side, not pictured, is now the closed-in Tea Room. All of this will be covered in hardwood flooring.

The upper landing, formerly an open bridge. The new Tea Room is above, and dining room is below. Note how the existing berber carpet was carefully spliced around each spindle.  This design saved the homebuilder a lot of money, but it cost us about $1,000 in extra labor charges when we had new carpet installed a decade ago.

Step 2, tear out the existing step-lights.  These well-worn old lights will be in the way of the new oak aprons. I will install modern LED step-lights (below), slightly higher on the walls.

These compact LED stair-lights, distributed by W.A.C. Lighting, will send a cool-white glow downward onto the steps. They use very little energy.

Step 3, remove the spindles: After tearing out carpet, tack strips, and hundreds of staples, I used a little Craftsman reciprocating saw (a.k.a. "Sawzall") to slice each spindle off at the bottom.  (Little pegs protruding from the base of each spindle were glued into the plywood.) Then I twisted the tops of the spindles out of the railings. Each spindle was poking up into holes in the bottom edge of the railings – and secured with a staple.

Step 4, make calculations: Risers on the existing carpeted stairs were built with an angle rather than with the traditional bullnose overhang used to accommodate an ascendant walker's foot. This means that the supporting stringers beneath the plywood were cut on an angle. 

Rather than mess with the stringers – which would mean virtual destruction of the entire staircase – the solution will be to furr out the risers so that they are plumb.

Due to sloppy construction, each of the existing steps is slightly different in width – and some are not level. Apparently an inspector will let you get away with that when you cover everything with pad and carpet.  But as I cap all these with oak, I will shim and furr each step to be perfectly level, plumb, and identical. Above-right: I measured each of the existing steps and wrote notes on them with colored Sharpies, reminding myself what adjustments I need to make to each one as I rebuild the staircase.

After spinning my wheels at some local hardwood shops, I stopped by a Lowe's in the Norco-Corona  area and was thrilled to discover that they sell a hardwood "retrotread" that can be installed over existing plywood treads. Not every Lowe's stocks this item, and the stores that do stock it only have a basic version for a narrow staircase. Therefore I phoned the mill in Kentucky, an outfit called Young Manufacturing. They were extremely helpful, and within 20 minutes I had placed a custom order for $705.94 through one of their dealers, "Stairtek." The red-oak treads arrived via Fedex Ground a week later in seven well-packed boxes (above right), and opening them was like opening gifts on Christmas morning.

The red-oak treads will be installed over the existing plywood. Oak riser-facings will have to be furred out so that they are plumb, and the steps will have to be leveled as they are installed.  I ordered the treads manufactured with endcaps (called "returns"), half going in one direction and half going in the other – because the stairway ascends in two directions.

Playing with the goodies: I'm probably at least a month away from installing any of these treads, but I find it helpful to set them out on the stairway to help visualize where I am going with this project. Seeing how nice they look keeps me enthusiastic about the project.

Step 5, notch the apron: After reviewing dozens of photographs and looking at staircases in various hotels and restaurants, Anne was still not sure how high she wanted the apron.  Therefore, I decided to notch the oak paneling and experiment.

The height of the apron also affects the height of the new stair lights. I temporarily affixed this panel to the wall, then we drank coffee and argued for an hour about where to draw the line.

We settled on this height. Now I know where to put the new electrical boxes for lights.  The top edge of the red-oak apron will eventually be adorned with oak panel molding.



Everything here is temporary. I'm figuring out the process of what laps what.  For example, the treads will butt up against the apron, hiding the rough cuts of the panel-notches. The top-front of each tread will cover the risers.  Each riser will start on top of the oak as I work my way up. There is one, logical, linear way to build this thing, and you would be surprised how much time I've spent figuring out how to do it all in the optimal order. (The tread above is one of the short "retrotreads" sold at Lowes. It's good for experimentation.)

Step 6, slice off the edges: The existing plywood treads were overhanging the wall by about an inch-and-a-half.  Carpet was wrapped around the overhang (above-left). I used a combination of my circular saw and reciprocal saw to slice the plywood flush with the drywall (above-right, and below).

Shaving the overhangs made a huge dusty mess all over the downstairs. Sawdust flew everywhere, and when the blade occasionally nicked the drywall, fine white powder added to the fun. It took me as much time to clean up the mess as it did to cut the overhangs.

To be continued . . .

This concludes most of the demolition work.  My next steps will be to install light-fixture boxes and aprons, and then begin crafting the new stairs from the bottom to the top.