Historic Home of the Month: 1533 Ionia Street Historic Springfield
June 8, 2025 | amandasearlerealtor
Fifteen-plus years ago, houses were cheap—like $20–30k cheap. When one came up, Nicole Lopez woud ask her friend Shawn (also her Realtor), “If you had $25k, would you buy it?” If he said yes, she’d say, “Give me two hours.” For her, it was thrilling. She also remembers the collective energy behind saving houses through Preservation SOS and the push for mothballing legislation. In 2011, she and fellow preservationists came together to prevent reckless demolitions. Every decade in Springfield has had its group of passionate preservationists fighting for the neighborhood’s homes—that was her decade, and it was truly a fun and meaningful time to her.
“Springfield holds a special place in my heart. I love the old houses, the passionate people, and even the occasional wild-wild west feel—it’s the grit that draws me in. The authenticity. I have so many house stories, but here are a few of my favorites. Years ago, I bought the vacant lot across the street on Ionia, right behind two derelict homes on the corner of Ionia and 6th that had no yards. Real estate wasn’t in a great place back then, but I looked at that empty lot every day and knew it would have value someday. Fast forward a few years and someone named Dave came along, bought both houses, and beautifully restored them. He approached me about the lot—we agreed on a price—but then I never heard from
him again. A year later he reached out, but by then, I was no longer interested. Then one day, months
later, my dad texted me pictures of a house I didn’t recognize and said, “Why don’t you give me a call?”
Turns out, Dave had purchased a bungalow (Christian’s house on E. 6th Street) and offered it in
exchange for the lot. Now that was speaking my language. We swapped—he got yards for his houses,
and I got another home to breathe life back into.”
Here is more of her story…
Can you tell us about the history of this street and what makes it unique in the larger
historic district?
Ionia Street sits on the edge of the historic district, next to the Historic East Side and near the railroad tracks. In 1898, it marked the eastern boundary of Camp Springfield, a major military encampment during the Spanish-American War. The camp was a rallying point for 30,000 soldiers in the Seventh Corps, though it faced shortages as resources were focused on other units heading to the Philippines and Cuba. This military history makes Ionia Street a unique part of the district’s heritage.
What was the street like when you first became interested in it?
When I first came to Springfield in 2007, Ionia Street was nearly entirely derelict and abandoned from 1st to 8th Street. Homes were being demolished regularly, leaving behind rows of vacant lots. The 1600 and 1700 blocks alone lost over seven houses to arson. Honestly, it was a scary place—but there was something about the raw, gritty atmosphere that drew me in. Plus, houses were cheaper on this side of the neighborhood.
How did the bungalows come to be here—do you know who built them why there are so many on Ionia?
Many of the bungalows on Ionia Street, including mine and Christian’s around the corner, were built in 1908. My home was built by Mary F. Weeks—which I love, knowing a woman was behind it. While detailed records are scarce, especially on the fringes of the historic district, it’s likely that the nearby railroad made the area less appealing to wealthier residents and more accessible to working-class trade
laborers. That legacy is still felt today—it’s always been a humble, less grandiose street.
Were there any particularly notable past residents or events that led to this street?
Ionia Street has ties to significant historical events, including its role as part of Camp Cuba Libre, a rallying point for American troops during the Spanish- American War. One local connection is Hannah Wells, whose great-grandfather served in the 1st North Carolina regiment—ironically, on the very property where she now lives. More recently, the street faced a darker chapter, suffering a wave of arson fires in the late 2000s, many believed to have been set by a single individual known as Dusty.
Personal Connection and Motivation
What initially drew you to this specific street and its bungalows?
I love Ionia. After the recession, it was a street that few people paid attention to – most were chasing bigger homes on more desirable streets. But I was drawn to the quiet charm and overlooked potential. I found a bungalow gutted to the studs, waiting for someone to bring it back to life. If houses could talk, this one was saying, “pick me”—and I did.
How did your passion for historic preservation begin?
I’ve always loved houses. Even as a child, I would point out vacant or abandoned buildings to my dad and say, “I want to fix that one.” That passion never left me. Honestly, I probably should have gone into restoration as a career, but my current job—and living in California—gives me the time and resources to fully enjoy it as a serious hobby. Historic preservation has become a way for me to bring that lifelong
love of houses to life. My passion for preservation, combined with the dedication of like-minded friends
and neighbors, led to the creation of Preservation SOS. We came together with a shared goal: to protect and restore homes in our neighborhood that were at risk of demolition due to Code Enforcement tactics. Rather than see these historic structures lost, we organized, advocated, and offered support to homeowners – helping them navigate repairs and preserve the character of the community. It started with saving one house (Miss Maggie’s), but it quickly grew into a movement to save many.
What were the biggest challenges you faced in the renovation process?
One of the biggest challenges I faced during the renovation was money—or really, the lack of it. While things were generally more affordable back in 2007, I didn’t have much to work with personally. On top of that, dealing with Code Enforcement was frustrating; they often made unreasonable demands that didn’t align with the reality of restoring an old home. I always tell the story of my final inspection to get the Certificate of Occupancy and pull the house out of condemnation. After 13 months of work, the home was livable but far from finished—no interior doors or trim, only one functioning bathroom, and a kitchen with just a stove, refrigerator, and a washbasin sink, no cabinets or counters. I had to go back and forth with the inspector, eventually convincing him that these things weren’t necessary for basic occupancy and that I needed more time to finish the work properly and honor the home’s history. Even now, I’m still finishing details—like finally adding baseboards. I do recall a frustrating incident early on in 2008, when I was nearly finished with my home: fresh paint outside, new roof, windows, porch, and landscaping. An
unknown neighbor left a note on my door, stating that my porch stairs needed a kickboard behind each step and couldn’t be open. I remember thinking, “How about starting with ‘thank you for all your hard work’ first, and then offering some advice?” To this day, those stairs are still open—an intentional “screw you” and a little act of rebellion in response to that unsolicited criticism.
Were there any unexpected discoveries during the renovation (e.g., hidden features, old documents, artifacts)?
Unfortunately, there were no historical relics or significant finds left in the house when I began the restoration. It had been gutted and vacant for so long that any original details were long gone. However, one thing I did preserve was a graffiti wall in the garage. After the garage was rehabbed, I chose to keep that wall intact—it felt like a small, authentic reminder of the home’s more recent past and the layers of life it had seen.
How do you balance preserving the original character of the homes while updating them for modern living?
Balancing preservation with modern living has always been central to my approach, well mostly. Although the house was completely gutted when I bought it, I was committed to restoring its original character and reintroducing what had been lost. Through the Certificate of Appropriateness (COA) process, I replaced all the windows with wood, double-hung 1-over-1 windows that reflect the original style. I was able to save all the heart pine flooring, using milled wood to patch the missing sections so seamlessly that you can’t tell the new from the old. While many might have opened up the floor plan for a more modern flow, I chose to preserve the original arched opening between the living and dining rooms. I added pocket doors where appropriate but also salvaged old 5-panel doors, antique knobs, and mortise locks to maintain authenticity. Original trim for the front and back interior doors was rescued from the garage and reinstalled. I’ve even considered reinstating a formal separation between the living and dining rooms—possibly with a colonnade and rich wood cabinetry—to echo the home’s likely original design. My dad, who now lives in the house, hasn’t quite agreed to that part yet, but I’m still hopeful! I’ve spared no expense in restoring this small bungalow, determined to give it all the charm and character it deserves. One of my favorite details was adding reproduction Arts and Crafts push-button light switches throughout the house. They may seem small, but these vintage-inspired touches bring an authenticity that ties the entire restoration together, honoring the era while still functioning beautifully for modern living.
Community Impact
How has the street changed since you began your restoration work?
Since I began my restoration work, Ionia Street has undergone a remarkable transformation. At one point, the street had lost over 50% of its housing stock due to reckless demolition practices by the city and the neighborhood group at the time. It was heartbreaking to watch so many historic homes disappear. But in the last five years, Ionia has truly blossomed. Terrawise has built at least a dozen new homes on vacant lots, and now only four houses still need attention—a huge improvement from when more than half the street was in disrepair. It’s been incredible to witness the revival and renewed sense of pride in the neighborhood.
How has the local community responded to your work?
Springfield and the city of Jacksonville tend to be transient—many of the people I met when I started this journey in 2007 have since moved out of Florida. With new residents constantly coming and going, it’s sometimes hard to find others who are equally committed to preservation. I often feel like one of the few staunch preservationists left, especially when I see renovations that ignore the guidelines meant to protect our Nationally Recognized Historic Neighborhood. That said, there has been undeniable progress—Main Street looks completely different than it did 20 years ago, and there are far fewer abandoned homes and vacant lots. Still, it’s disheartening to see historic rehabs that don’t honor the original character of these homes. I’m not a fan of gray, whitewashed interiors or careless demolition, and I
don’t believe Springfield should be a “do what you want” neighborhood when it comes to restoration. To me, preserving our history is what makes this community truly special.
Looking Forward
What’s your vision for this street in the next 5 to 10 years?
In the next 5 to 10 years, I’d love to see Ionia continue on its upward path. Compared to 20 years ago, the street already looks pretty damn good. My hope is that we can introduce some street calming measures—right now, it feels like a racetrack with cars speeding through daily. While I’ll always prefer a historic home over a new build, I know we can’t bring back the ones that were lost. So I’m genuinely happy to see new homes being built that provide much-needed infill and help strengthen the fabric of the neighborhood. My vision is a street that honors its past while becoming safer and more vibrant for everyone who lives here.
Are there other projects in the neighborhood or city you’re thinking about taking on?
At this point, I’ve probably reached my limit financially and logistically—My family and I currently own seven houses, all either on Ionia or just a house away (except for one on Redwing). Each property has required a significant investment of time and care. Christian’s house around the corner, for example, wasn’t condemned but was in horrific shape—infested with rats and roaches, packed floor-to-ceiling with
decades of belongings. It was essentially a hoarder’s house. Like my Ionia home, I’ve taken great care to preserve its historic character, using milled wood, salvaged materials, and avoiding modern shortcuts like painting trim—stripping wood has become a way of life. It’s incredibly important to me that even remodeled homes look as authentic as possible. That said, if a rare deal were to come along (and those
hardly exist anymore), I’d still jump at the chance. I’d love to buy the Pool House and the bungalow next door, but unfortunately, they’re tied up in a messy situation involving a failed affordable housing project and a now-jailed preacher.
What advice would you give to someone who wants to take on a similar historic renovation project?
My advice? Don’t. Just kidding—but only slightly. Taking on a historic renovation is not for the faint of heart. In my opinion, owning an old home comes with a real responsibility. You’re not just buying a house; you’re becoming a steward of its history. That means preserving original materials—like old-growth lumber—and honoring the craftsmanship that went into it. If you’re not up for maintaining that integrity, then an old home might not be for you. Too many things built today are substandard in both design and materials. The goal shouldn’t be to erase history for convenience, but to embrace it and breathe life back into it with care and respect.
Reflection and Meaning
What do these homes—and this street—mean to you personally?
I love Ionia and Springfield—it’s become home in a way I never expected. Nearly 20 years ago, I serendipitously found this neighborhood. I’m originally from New England, familiar with the East Coast, but I wanted more houses. California was too expensive for me to expand my collection, so I found myself in Florida. Crissie Cudd says it best: “I came for the houses but stayed because of the people.” That rings so true for me. I love the community here. I enjoy walking and biking around, taking pictures of the beautiful homes, and I especially feel fulfilled when I come across one that’s been truly preserved. Over the years, I’ve made so many friends, and when I’m in Springfield, I feel enriched by a true sense of belonging, and as Reggie says, I love my “framily”. My dad, who was initially hesitant about moving here, has since fallen in love with the neighborhood. He now says, “You’ll be taking me out in a box from this
house”—he loves it that much. My only child, unable to find work or afford to live in California, moved here in 2020 after graduating college with his (now) wife. Dad, Christian, and Brianna are my only family, and I couldn’t be happier to have them next door to each other in a community that I love so very much. I’m not rich, but I’m house poor, and everything I have goes into the houses in Springfield and the ones in California. I’ve told Christian, “You can never sell the houses.” He’s my heart, and the peace of mind knowing he and his family will always have a roof over their heads means everything to me.
What legacy do you hope your work will leave behind for future generations?
I hope the legacy of my work is that these houses will always be respected and cared for, honoring the history they represent. Long after I’m gone, I want my son’s kids—and their kids—to walk on floors and through doorways that I envisioned and lovingly brought to life. These homes carry not just the spirit of the past but also the care and commitment I put into preserving them. My greatest wish is that future generations will continue to appreciate their beauty and history, just as I have, and feel the love of me, my dad, and everyone who played a part in making this historic house a home.
