Windows in St. Louis sit in brick and take wind-driven rain off the river storms. Water enters at the limestone sill and the masonry joint as often as through the glass. Original sash whistles and leaks at the weight pocket. A storm that will not latch becomes a bucket. Fogged units are a dead seal, not a rotten brickmold. Humidity swells wood until the sash sticks in summer and then shrinks it in winter. Say which complaint is yours.
The face toward the weather takes the blow. A bay has more joints than a flat punched opening, and the stain starts there. Paint will not stop water already behind the casing. If plaster under the stool bubbles only during storms, call it a leak. If the glass sweats every humid night, call it condensation. Do not mix them. A painted-shut sash in a sleeping room is its own urgency.
Old brick openings are rarely a clean size, and the wall is thick. Ask what happens to the stool, the apron, the brickmold, and the storm. Ignore the joint and the new unit leaks in the next downburst. Leaded or divided lites on a facade may be something you intend to keep. Cords, weights, and locks still repair sound wood. Say which you need. A whole-house speech hides the one opening that is actually wet.
Hail cracks are possible and they are not the lead in this city. Rain through a failed joint is the lead. If a top-floor window leaks only when wind pushes, say wind. If a garden-unit window well fills, that is grade and drainage, not a sash speech. Interior trim and exterior masonry repair change the work. Hardware can wait. Water in the plaster cannot.
Lead with leak, draft, fog, or a sash that will not move, and name the wall. St. Louis rain will use the joint you skip. Call the number on this page.