When I say dungeon, I mean the spider-ridden, concrete-cold basement of my Bloomfield brick row house. For years, it was where holiday decorations went to die and the furnace groaned like a ghost. But in a city like Pittsburgh, where renters are always hunting for a decent spot near the hospitals and universities, I saw dollar signs. Or, more accurately, I saw a legal apartment hiding behind the damp and the dark.
This wasn’t a weekend project. This was a permit-pulling, inspector-pleasing, budget-stretching saga to create something safe and legal. The “before” wasn’t just ugly; it was borderline hostile. One bare bulb, a floor drain that smelled of mystery, and a main sewer line running right across the ceiling at forehead level. A true Pittsburgh special.
The first step was a trip to the City of Pittsburgh’s Bureau of Building Inspection. I needed the rulebook, and let me tell you, getting those rules straight saved me thousands in do-overs. The big one? Egress. You cannot have a legal bedroom without a big, climb-out-able window well. I used Window World over on Butler Street, and watching them saw a massive hole in my foundation wall was equal parts terrifying and thrilling. Five thousand dollars later, I had a window that could save a life. That’s the stuff you can’t skip.
Then, the water. Oh, the water. Old basements in Bloomfield weep. I brought in EverDry, a local outfit that knows our clay soil and seasonal seepage. They installed a French drain and a vapor barrier, a seven-thousand-dollar insurance policy against future mold and misery. While they were at it, I had Terry’s Plumbing, a legend in the neighborhood, re-route that offending sewer line. Seeing it vanish from the ceiling was better than therapy.
The transformation, once the guts were legal, was the fun part. We went with luxury vinyl plank that looks like weathered wood—it’s waterproof and tough. I splurged on a mini-split system from Comfort Solutions for heat and AC, so my future tenant controls their own climate. The kitchen got a proper vented hood (inspectors look for that), quartz counters, and cabinets that don’t scream “landlord special.”
The Outcome is something I’m genuinely proud of. It’s a bright, 500-square-foot one-bedroom with its own entrance. It’s safe, it’s dry, and it’s legal. It now houses a grad student at Pitt, and the investment, about thirty-five grand all in, pays me back a little every month.
My advice is: Start at the permit office. Hire pros who know Pittsburgh’s old bones, my GC, Renaissance Homes, knew every code quirk. And take pictures of everything, especially the scary “before” parts. When you’re standing in a finished, warm space where a dank cellar used to be, you’ll want proof of the journey. In Bloomfield, we make the most of what we’ve got. Even if what we’ve got starts out as a dungeon.
