Fifth-generation house mover’s final act: A century-old tenant house in Cornelius
It’s 3:39 p.m. and W.C. Wright fires up the engine of his red Ford F-600 and backs it up toward the front of the Alexander Farm Tenant House.
A pair of trees shade the century-old structure, tucked away in a corner of the 55-acre farm in Cornelius. A few steps away, cars whir by on the busy West Catawba Avenue; Lake Norman is not much farther away. In the coming months, a Florida-based developer will begin work on a mixed-use project to bring senior living homes and commercial space to the property.
On this recent August afternoon, Wright, 77, stares down the old wooden house in the truck’s side view mirror. Coke cans litter the front entrance. Inside, stacks of old furniture take up some of the floor space. Hornets occupy one end of the home; a can of Raid sits empty on the ground nearby.
At about 16 by 20 feet, the house weighs around 30,000 pounds, Wright guesses. It’s mostly intact, save for some wooden sideboards falling apart. The tin roof still appears in good condition.
Wright, who calls himself a fifth-generation mover, has moved houses like this his whole life. He started with his first at age 12 in Polkton, the Anson County town where he lives. He enjoys the challenge each one presents.
“You can do things right,” Wright says, “or you can do things haphazard.”
This move on a recent Thursday was likely his last. Wright says he’s ready to retire and none of his sons appears willing to take up the job full time in his place.
“This is a good one to retire on,” Wright says. “I like antiques and I’m glad to see people preserving old structures.”
A plan to save the tenant house
Few signs remain that the tenant house was once someone’s home, but the historic record shows it was.
It’s one of the last surviving examples of a tenant farming house in Mecklenburg County, according to an architectural evaluation by engineering consulting firm Terracon. After the Civil War, tenant farming, or sharecropping, emerged as a system where formerly enslaved people rented houses and land for farming from white landowners and turned profits back over to the landowner.
Not all sharecroppers were Black but a review of census records showed the families that lived in this home were, said local historian Dan Morrill.
In order to carry out the development, WIN Development needed federal permits because there is water or wetlands on the property, Morrill said. WIN had to hire a consultant to review the property for any historic buildings that could be eligible for listing in the National Register of Historic Places. The state Department of Natural and Cultural Resources deemed the tenant house was eligible.
That led to an arrangement to save the house to mitigate any impacts like demolition as a result of the development.
In April, WIN and Cornelius reached an agreement where the historic building would be moved to the other end of the Alexander Farm property.
Ironically, while the move of the home spares it from demolition, it also means the structure will no longer be eligible for listing in the National Register. That’s because it will be separated from its original setting and location and not convey its story of an original tenant house, said Renee Gledhill-Earley, an environmental review coordinator with the State Historic Preservation Office.
But Morrill’s nonprofit, Preserve Mecklenburg, will hold a preservation easement on the home. That document will protect the house in perpetuity from demolition or any big material changes, Morrill said.
WIN’s plans include senior living units, a potential grocery store and additional commercial space. The land where the house has sat will be developed for a dental clinic, according to WIN.
Tenant house to mobile home
But none of that was on W.C. Wright or his son Oliver’s mind last week. The pair had a house to move.
“Hand me my gloves and we will commence picking it up one more time,” Wright says to his son. “You ready?”
The house was already a few inches off the ground, thanks to the F-600 and a steel beam Wright used to hoist the structure up from the earth.
Wright instructs his son to grab a couple mechanical jacks from their other, newer pickup parked nearby. One jack is placed by one end of the home’s front entrance, another on the other end. Oliver starts pumping the jack to lift the house a few more inches off the ground.
“That’s enough, son,” W.C. calls out.
The duo positions two sets of large wheels under two steel beams, which the house will sit on for the move across the property.
W.C. drives the F-600 to the other side of the house. Using another steel beam and the truck’s winch, Wright has created a mobile home of sorts. The beams take the place of the foundation. Wright explains he is moving the house on a three-point system to maintain the plane of the house so it doesn’t twist or get stressed while moving over rough terrain.
By 5:30 p.m., W.C. gets in his cab again and starts the truck up. He inches the rumbling Ford forward and the house is moving. Wright keeps the speedometer under 10 mph. He’s at the other end of the property in about two minutes, the house still intact.
From behind, the trucks appeared to be floating a few inches off the ground as it moved swiftly across the tall grass.
The final destination is under another shaded corner, this time under larger trees. The cars whirring by on West Catawba Avenue and Westmoreland Road will have a more full view of the historic building.
Four small, wooden stakes that have “tenant house corner” written on the side mark its new home.
A house as a teacher
This kind of preservation work is hard, Morrill said that afternoon. He was there to get a look at the house being moved.
“You have to go totally off the standard menu,” he said.
Ultimately, though, any community is better off when it has a sense of its history, Morrill said. By escaping the bulldozers, the tenant house can be used to teach people about Mecklenburg’s history.
The exact plans for how the house will be used on the property are not yet clear. Once it’s on a new foundation, the building will be restored. Someday soon, people might be able to go up to it and look inside, maybe read about its history.
“It’s not what this was,” Morrill said, “but what it’s going to be.”
