The story
Welcome to 44 Hull Street. You are standing in the heart of Boston’s historic North End, a neighborhood where the streets are narrow and the stories are long. While you are just a short walk from the towering spire of the Old North Church and directly across from the weathered headstones of Copp’s Hill Burying Ground, I want you to focus your attention on the unlikely sliver of brick wedged between its neighbors.
This is the Skinny House, and while its dimensions are incredible, the story behind its construction is a masterpiece of petty sibling rivalry. Take a good look at it. This four-story home is officially the narrowest house in Boston.
At its widest point facing the street, it measures just over ten feet across, but as it stretches toward the back, it tapers down to a mere nine feet. If you were standing inside, you could nearly reach out and touch both side walls at the same time. It looks less like a residence and more like a chimney that someone decided to move into.
But the question remains: why would anyone build something so intentionally impractical? The local legend takes us back to the years following the American Civil War. Two brothers inherited this plot of land from their father.
While one brother went off to serve in the military, the other stayed behind in Boston. Taking advantage of his brother’s absence, the stay-at-home sibling built a large, sprawling home on the property. He didn't bother to wait for a fair division of the land; instead, he used up almost the entire lot, leaving only a tiny, seemingly useless strip of dirt for his brother.
When the soldier brother finally returned home, he found his inheritance squandered and his brother living in a grand house that took up all the space. He didn't sue, and he didn't move away. Instead, he decided to get even.
In 1874, he used that remaining sliver of land to build this house. He didn't build it for luxury; he built it for spite. By rising four stories high, the Skinny House served one primary purpose: it completely blocked the sunlight and the harbor views from his brother’s windows.
If you look closely at the facade, you’ll notice there is no front door facing Hull Street. To enter, you have to walk down the narrow alleyway on the side. Inside, the rooms are tiny, connected by a staircase so steep it’s practically a ladder.
It is a house built out of a grudge, a permanent brick-and-mortar middle finger to a greedy sibling. As you continue your walk through the North End today, let the Skinny House remind you that Boston’s history isn't just made of grand revolutions and heroic deeds—it is also built on the very human, very relatable foundation of a classic family feud.