Of Tiny Homes and Hidden Alleys

It is late on an overcast Sunday afternoon and the neighbors on FStreet Terrace SE are popping in and out of their houses with themakings of a party.

John Klaja sets down a bistro table covered with a blue plaidcloth, topped with a pot of pansies. Will Fleishell bringspistachios. Rusty Horger backs up his pickup and drops the tailgate,a makeshift buffet. His wife, Linda, will be out in a minute; she'swashing her hair.

In the background is the thrum and crash of the rock band thatleases a portion of a nearby warehouse as rehearsal space. Members ofthe Christ Church choir, arriving to rehearse their Easter version ofHandel's "Messiah," stop to kibitz.

It is a practiced routine in this little hidden tangle of alleyson Capitol Hill.

With most of their houses so tiny, just 12 feet wide and about asdeep, the residents often gather in the little-trafficked street. Itgets a bit fancier on summer evenings, when the party moves toadjoining Archibald Walk and the disco ball is hung. Last summer alife-size plastic Venus de Milo presided. (Klaja swears it looks likemarble.)

"A fine figure of a woman," Horger said between puffs on hiscigar, "except for the missing arms."

Klaja grinned, "She's a party girl."

Hanging out here is pleasant, if a tad odd.

The enclave of old warehouses, garages and kind of funky (in thenicest possible way) houses sits smack in the middle of the CapitolHill historic district, surrounded by elegant Victorian homes. TheCapitol is just six blocks away.

In the middle of the 19th century, Samuel Marks, who owned anearby hardware store, had workshops and a stable back here. Afterthe Civil War, W.A. Simpson's Walker Hill Dairy began using thestable for its horses and the oxen that hauled the milk from thetrain station for processing.

This warren of industry was called nothing until the 1870s, whendevelopers considered building houses for low-paid workers at theWashington Navy Yard a few blocks to the south. In their prescience,they realized that without a name, pizza deliveries would someday beproblematic, so F Street Terrace it was called. Ten years later, 22houses were built for an average of $550 each. (In this section ofCapitol Hill there is no F Street, so F Street Terrace is between Eand G streets.)

Only six of the original homes remain, two facing the ChristChurch parking lot, two down a narrow passage called Archibald Walk,and two more alongside one of the remaining warehouses. In 1969 twolarger, Federal-style houses were added behind the old stables. Thechurch rectory is also here.

You can live on the Capitol Hill for decades and never stumbleupon this place.

Linda Horger found it 17 years ago. Tootling around on her bike,she fell in love with G Street, particularly Christ Church, whichreminded her of England, with its broad green lawn and bell tower. Itwas, she said, "The prettiest block I ever saw."

Klaja sought it out. "I wanted something unusual. I was lookingfor a carriage house . . . this was kind of like it, a mews house,off the beaten path."

Fleishell, whose family has lived on Capitol Hill since the mid-19th century, just "loves alleys." He lives in Gessford Court, analley several blocks away. He keeps a studio in the Terrace for hispainting and print making. "People get so scared of alleys," he said."But it's quiet and private and the neighbors are friendly."

Nancy Collins and her husband, Michael Hoare, who live in one ofthe "new" houses, found their place via the Internet.

The couple lived in the neighborhood after college, then moved toSt. Louis where they raised their daughter, Tracy Hollanbach. Threeyears ago, they returned. Lured by a description of the house thatthey found on the Web, "We looked at the house and fell in love,"Collins said.

In the rear of the house, where carriages and wagons once werestored, is a long brick patio surrounded by high brick walls.Neighbor Klaja winters his tropical plants in the glass solarium offthe living room.

"It's my favorite part of the house," said Hollanbach, of thesolarium and patio. "It's extra private, like a retreat. We can benaked if we want to and no one can see."

The neighbors are a creative crowd. Hollanbach is a filmmaker.Klaja is a graphic artist. Floral designer and party planner J.K.Homer uses the former stable for his home and workshop. Author and ex-CIA case officer Bob Baer lives down Archibald Walk.

Two years ago, commercial space designer John Giesecke, whostudied fine art at the Corcoran, bought a 5,600-square-footwarehouse for his shop. With too much room for their needs, Gieseckeand business partner Dave Rosenberg hope to "develop a community ofartists, craftsmen and designers."

Until recently, the Shakespeare Theatre had space for its propshop (a mural of fleshy maidens and rearing horses remains on aninterior wall). Sound on Sound, the rock band rattling and thumpingthis afternoon, leases space from them.

"They are getting better," Hollanbach assured.

"It's a very close-knit community," said Anne Gilson, who lives inthe Christ Church rectory and serves as the congregation's associatefor programs and administration. "Maybe it looks a little . . .beaten up . . . but there's more to it than meets the eye. All theneighbors know each other and do for each other. Our neighbors haveshoveled snow and built up a very funky garden along the fence. . . .Rusty filled in the potholes with something -- since the city neverdoes."

She added, as an aside, "We'd welcome the city coming by andtaking a look."

They can ask the pizza place for directions.