You’re walking down Hull Street in Boston’s North End, past the smell of cannolis and roasting espresso, when you see it. It’s a literal sliver of a building. It looks like someone took a normal house and ran it through a hydraulic press. Most people call it the Skinny House North End Boston, but locally, it’s better known as the Spite House.
It’s tiny.
At its widest point, the interior is just about ten feet. At its narrowest? You’re looking at roughly six feet across. You can basically touch both walls at the same time if you’ve got a decent wingspan. It’s not just a gimmick or a weird architectural flex, though. It’s a landmark of sibling rivalry and a stubborn middle finger turned into real estate. Honestly, it’s one of the most photographed spots in the city for a reason.
Why the Skinny House North End Boston is actually a Spite House
The history here is legendary, though like all good Boston stories, it’s got a few layers of "he-said, she-said." The most accepted version involves two brothers post-Civil War. Their father died and left them a plot of land on Hull Street. One brother was away serving in the military. While he was gone, the other brother built a massive house on the majority of the lot.
Imagine coming home from war to find your inheritance basically paved over.
The returning brother didn’t sue. He didn’t just grumble about it at the tavern. He decided to use the tiny, remaining strip of land—land his brother thought was useless—to block the sunlight and the view of the big house. He built a four-story spite monument. By 1874, the Skinny House North End Boston was standing, effectively cutting off the light to his brother's windows and ruining the property value. It’s the ultimate petty move, and it’s still standing over 150 years later.
Life inside 44 Hull Street
Living here isn't for the claustrophobic. You’ve got about 1,165 square feet total, but it’s spread out vertically like a stack of pancakes. Every floor is basically one room.
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The kitchen is on the first floor. It’s surprisingly functional, but you aren't hosting a twenty-person Thanksgiving dinner in there. The second floor usually serves as a living area, the third as a guest space or office, and the fourth is the primary bedroom. To get between them, you use a staircase that feels more like a ladder. It’s steep. It’s narrow. If you buy a new mattress, you aren't carrying it up those stairs; you’re hoisting it through the windows with a pulley system.
It sold a few years ago for $1.25 million. Think about that. People are paying over a million dollars to live in a house that was built specifically to annoy a neighbor.
Architectural quirks you’ll only see in person
The house doesn't have a front door on the street. That’s a detail most people miss when they’re just glancing at photos. You have to go down a narrow side alley to find the entrance.
Because the house is so thin, the layout has to be incredibly creative. There are no hallways. Why waste space on a hallway when the room itself is only as wide as a hallway? Instead, the stairs take up the "dead" space. The back of the house is actually narrower than the front. It tapers off. This creates some weird angles where standard furniture just won’t fit. Most owners end up getting custom-built shelving or very specific mid-century modern pieces that don't overwhelm the footprint.
The views from the top, though, are actually decent. You’re right across from Copp's Hill Burying Ground. It’s one of the oldest cemeteries in the city, holding the remains of Mather family members and many early Bostonians. It gives the house a permanent sense of "old Boston" that you can't find in the glass towers of the Seaport.
Is it the skinniest house in the world?
Not quite.
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The Keret House in Warsaw is technically thinner, but that’s more of an art installation than a "home" in the traditional sense. In the U.S., you’ll find some skinny competitors in New York City or Charleston. But the Skinny House North End Boston holds the crown for the most historically significant "narrow" home because of its placement in the North End.
This neighborhood is the oldest in the city. It was inhabited since the 1630s. When this house was built, the North End was transitioning from a shipping hub to an immigrant enclave. The fact that this weird little sliver of brick survived the urban renewal of the 1950s—which tore down huge chunks of the city—is a minor miracle. It’s a survivor.
What visitors get wrong about the Spite House
A lot of tourists stand in the middle of Hull Street and try to take a selfie while blocking traffic. Don't do that. The street is tiny. It’s one-way. Delivery trucks for the Italian restaurants nearby will not hesitate to honk you into the next century.
Another misconception is that it’s a museum. It isn't. People actually live there. It’s a private residence. While it’s tempting to peek in the windows, remember that someone is probably just trying to eat their cereal three feet away from your face.
The best way to see the Skinny House North End Boston is to incorporate it into a wider walk of the Freedom Trail. You’re only a two-minute walk from the Old North Church—where the "one if by land, two if by sea" lanterns were hung. You’re also right near the Paul Revere House. It’s part of a dense cluster of history that makes the North End feel like a time capsule.
The psychology of spite architecture
Spite houses are a real phenomenon in urban planning. Usually, they happen because of inheritance disputes or zoning loopholes. In some cases, people built them to prevent a road from being widened. In others, it was purely to block a neighbor’s ocean view.
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The Boston Skinny House is the purest example because it serves no other purpose. It didn’t make the owner rich. It wasn't particularly comfortable. It was an expensive, permanent way to say "I haven't forgotten what you did." There’s something deeply human about that level of commitment to a grudge.
Planning your visit to Hull Street
If you're heading there, timing is everything. The North End gets slammed on weekends, especially during the summer feasts.
- Go early. 8:00 AM on a Tuesday is perfect. You’ll get the light hitting the brick without fifty other people in your shot.
- Wear sneakers. The sidewalks in the North End are uneven brick and cobblestone. Your ankles will thank you.
- Check out Copp’s Hill. Since the house is right across the street, spend twenty minutes in the burying ground. You can see the chips in the headstones where British soldiers used them for target practice during the Revolution.
- Eat nearby. Skip the massive lines at Mike’s Pastry and go to Bova’s Bakery on Salem Street. It’s open 24/7 and the Florentines are better anyway.
The Skinny House North End Boston isn't just a quirky building. It’s a reminder that Boston’s geography was shaped as much by personal drama as it was by colonial politics. It’s a physical manifestation of a family argument that outlasted everyone involved.
Actionable Insights for Your Visit
To get the most out of your trip to the Skinny House, start your walk at the Paul Revere House and head north toward the Old North Church. Once you hit the church, Hull Street is right there. After you’ve snapped your photos of the Skinny House, walk up the hill into Copp's Hill Burying Ground. From the highest point of the cemetery, you can look back toward the house and see exactly how it blocks the view of the property behind it—the visual proof of the 19th-century "spite" in action. Finally, head down to Commercial Street for a walk along the water to decompress from the narrow alleys of the North End.