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Sitting in the foyer of Fort Worth architect Bob Kelly's office, Eddie Vanston doesn't look like a big-time real estate developer. He's slumped in a chair, dressed in bulky gray sweat shorts, a well-worn "Kinky Friedman for governor" t-shirt, and old work boots that look like they've slogged+ through years of construction sites.

The only sign that he might be involved in anything having to do with the top side of real estate development is a tape measure clipped to his waistline of his shorts. But that just makes him look like one of the guys who hangs drywall. At 53, his dishwater-blond hair is fading in the front, gathered in a long ponytail in back.

It's not the look of a Columbia University grad who once taught English at a ritzy New York private high school. He's meeting at the South Main Street office of Kelly, his partner in some projects on the Near Southside, because he doesn't have his own office down there. His office is actually his car, the front passenger seat piled high with paperwork, the back seat awash with his kids' toys.

The unconventional look is likely a product of his unconventional approach to his business. The Dallas native (he still lives there) has been redeveloping run-down historic structures on Fort Worth's Near Southside for more than 10 years now. Plenty of Dallas developers were lured to Cowtown's high-end condo market in the years before the housing bust, but Vanston was here long before most of them, always working in the world of market-rate rentals.

He started by redoing the Markeen Apartments, built in 1910. Since then he has also restored the Leuda-May and LaSalle apartments, both built in the 1920s. All three were originally apartments when they opened in the early 20th century, but they had deteriorated with time.

Two of his recently completed projects can be seen through the window behind him. The Sawyer Grocery Store, built in 1909, and a former hotel (the Joyslin Building) built in 1911 have been transformed into a total of 14 apartment units. Rents range from $625 to $1,200 a month.

"I like old buildings, because the quality of the workmanship is just so much better than the new buildings we construct today," Vanston said. "There are risks sometimes. With new construction you know what you are getting into, but in the old buildings, when you peel back the paint and get inside the walls, you often find the unexpected.

"But after all is said and done, doing the older properties at market rates is good business and good for the community," he said. "[The Near Southside] is becoming the hottest place in Dallas-Fort Worth to do these projects. People in this area like to live in older structures that are done well, and there is a change in how folks are viewing urban living. Over time, I think this part of Fort Worth will develop into a unique community."

Doing historic restoration in this part of town is tricky for reasons beyond what's inside the walls. Banks are leery about providing financing, a tendency that has only been exacerbated by the recent credit crunch. And the restored buildings are often islands in a sea of vacant lots and decaying warehouses.

Then there is the perception that the urban cores of big cities are high-crime areas full of homeless people. Vanston says that's less of a problem in this part of Fort Worth than many folks believe. As he talks, a few street people amble past the window behind him. Many of the Fort Worth homeless community gather on the corner of South Main Street and East Vickery Boulevard for day-labor jobs. Some are pushing everything they own in grocery carts.

"I've gotten to know some of the so-called street people, and they just are who they are," Vanston said. "They're not robbing and mugging people as most people think, just trying to make it in the world. They can be strange, but when you are down here all the time, like I am, or live down here, they just are part of the neighborhood.

"One of the biggest misperceptions ... is that low-density neighborhoods are safer than high-density ones," he said. "But the more people you have living in a neighborhood, the safer it is. People watch out for each other."

Just then, Kelly Poulos, an insurance saleswoman, comes into the office to say hi to Vanston. She lived downtown for three years before moving into the Sawyer Grocery building last November.

"Oh, there are times I can look out my window, see the new Omni Hotel in the city skyline, and there might be a guy in the vacant lot across the street pissing on a wall," Poulos said. "But we walk our dog late at night sometimes, and we have never had any trouble. I like being close to work downtown, but I also like being in a neighborhood. And that's what [the Near Southside] is turning into, a unique place to live that is very different from the rest of Fort Worth."

About that time, Vanston's real estate developer spiel gets interrupted by his landlord role. A tenant from across the street comes in to tell Eddie that the coin-operated washing machine at the Joyslin Building is broken. Vanston shakes his head and gets on the phone to get a repairman out to fix it.

"This is the shit that you don't get if you just rehab the building and sell it off to someone else," Vanston said. "When I got into this business in Dallas, I would just fix things up, sell them, fix up another, then sell that." But in Fort Worth, "I decided that I wanted to own stuff. I wanted to own unique older buildings."

So he spends his days supervising the stripping of old wooden window frames and the buffing of hardwood floors, creating loft apartments in a 1911 warehouse with 16-foot-high ceilings and concrete walls and floors. And getting the washing machines fixed. And, in the process, helping rejuvenate a neighborhood that has been dormant for decades.

Around the corner from Vanston's Sawyer and Joyslin buildings (Vanston swears the latter, like seemingly half the historic buildings in Fort Worth, was at one time a brothel) is a vacant building that shows how tricky the historic renovation business can be. The city built the Fort Worth Recreation Center in 1927 as a gymnasium and auditorium. After the city sold it in 1955, the building, which looks like an old airplane hangar, was converted into a factory and warehouse. An automotive parts distributor was the last to use it, moving out in the late '90s.

Developer Tom Reynolds bought it in 1998. Reynolds' background is also an odd mix: He is a cattle rancher and serves on the Fort Worth Stock Show board, he is a jazz guitarist performing in the Tom Reynolds Trio, and he does real estate development work, including historic renovations on the Near Southside. Reynolds wants to turn the rec center into a concert and special-events venue, going after local meeting groups and conventioneers who want catered affairs inside a unique place. Vanston and architect Kelly are interested in joining the project, though they haven't formally partnered with Reynolds yet.

There's nearly 17,000 square feet of open space inside under a metal-truss roof, with few interior walls carving it up. There is space for a stage in the back, and the plans might include a restaurant and balcony-level seating for good views of the stage, maybe a beer garden outside on the vacant lots next door that Reynolds also owns.

While the building is structurally sound, according to Reynolds, a lot of work would be needed to make the building functional. Much of the wooden roof decking has fallen in, street-level windows have been bricked up, and a lot of the upper-level windows are broken. Most of the original wooden flooring is long gone, and the concrete sub-flooring is damaged and pockmarked. Debris is everywhere. Historic Fort Worth Inc. has placed the rec center on its endangered places list.