Preparing the Parlors

Our first encounter with the home at #878 Main Street began through the foront doors and took a quick left into the front parlor. A spacious room with a beautiful bay in front with 10 foot tall windows that started at the floor, the amount of light was impressive. A glorious 6-arm crystal chandelier, converted from gas to electric, hung from the ceiling.

Back out into the hallway the next left led us into the rear parlor, another large space but with only a single window and door to Chestnut place to bring in the light. It was somewhat disappointing after all the light and grandeur of the front parlor. A door at the rear led into the rear wing addition. The elaborately-carved wooden mantle and mirror were impressive in the space. but the chandelier had been replaced with an unimpressive later-vintage light fixture. A newer built-in bookcase and closet now commanded the space on each side of the front of the room.

A matching mantelpiece was found installed in the basement great room, too impressive for any fireplace decoration destined for a basement. Clearly this had once come from the front parlor, which now sported a simple marble mantel.

After getting our bearings on the front parlor space, it was clear that something was not quite right. The decorative plaster corbels that were embedded in the rear wall were more typical of architectural features that would be flanking an opening. Besides, why present graceful elements in such a chopped fashion?

The front and rear parlors were clearly designed as matching spaces with matching mantels and mirrors, yet they were separate from each other. We suspected that they once had been connected. Shortly after closing on the property, we discovered that the wall between the two parlors was of different materials than the rest of the rooms. All of the plaster in the house is horsehair plaster. Yes, they actually mixed horse hair in with the plaster. Horse hair was cheap and the fibers gave the plaster added strength. In addition, the plaster is laid out on top of wooden lath, or thin strips of wood nailed closely together with small gaps to allow the excess plaster to squeeze between to form a strong attachment with the whole wooden skeleton. Once dried, you would have to cut out the entire wood and plaster structure to remove the plaster.

This wall between the two parlors had plaster without horsehair, and a metal lath underneath. As a later addition, it would explain why the corbels had been chopped off as well.

We soon found an explanation for the family’s separation of the double parlors. The second Mr. Miller was a prominent doctor, an orthopedist. While he practiced at the local hospital, he saw many of his patients in his home, eventually needing to carve out a space for his home office. Originally, he created an addition off the rear of the house, with an exterior entrance along Chestnut Place.

His practice must have flourished, and needing more space, he took over the rear parlor as well, walling it off from the front parlor. The entrance to the rear addition was closed up, and a new, more grand entrance was created into the rear parlor, which was then used as his waiting room. The wear on the hardwood floors attest to the many years of chairs having been placed around the border of the room, etching their presence into the floor each time someone sat.

A photo from 2004 showing the later-added side entry porch. The old entry is bricked-in

Even though the added wall between the two parlors was part of the history of the evolution of the home, it had outlived its original purpose and needed to go. Our goal in restoration is always to bring things back to their original configuration, if possible. Before we could tackle the removal of this later-added dividing wall, we had to remove the built-ins in the rear parlor which were attached to it. The bookcase beside the fireplace came down easily enough with a sledgehammer. The 1950s coupon underneath was an interesting find. The closet on the opposite wall, however, gave us a little bit more trouble. It had been built around the radiator, leaving no option but to leave the closet door open when the heat was on. It also soared the full twelve-and-a-half feet up to the ceiling, with an upper storage cupboard above the closet. Tom decided on a top-down demolition approach. The walls of the upper storage section yielded easily enough, but the header to the lower closet portion proved more stubborn.

Weeks before, we had purchased a Bakers scaffolding. These are neat little contraptions that easily break down into pieces, and so can be carried piece by piece upstairs and down and stored in a small space. Locking Wheels facilitate moving the unit, and an adjustable platform allows versatility with any project. If you are doing home renovation, I recommend that this be one of the first things you invest your money in. Here, it proved to be invaluable.

After swinging the sledgehammer furiously in the limited range of movement that the small upper storage space would allow, Tom finally decided that his legs would prove to have more leverage. Crouched in the cramped space, he lifted one leg and served the header a firm blow with the flat of his foot. A strange looked passed across his face, then an expletive quickly followed, and a sudden urgency to be down out of that high cupboard, as his back went into an instant spasm. I was able to half carry him on my shoulders down the laddered side of the Bakers scaffolding where he collapsed on the floor in pain. I doubt we could have performed that maneuver on a stepladder.

The ambulance was called, as Tom was unable to even sit up. Laying flat on his back, we waited. The crew from the stripping shop had arrived some time earlier in the day, and were busy removing all of the painted doors in the house to be stripped, so that when the ambulance finally arrived, the room was suddenly filled with workers, concerned neighbors, and a somewhat inexperienced-appearing ambulance crew. The uniformed young man and woman laid a backboard on the floor between Tom’s legs and instructed him to lift himself up on his elbows and heels so they could slide the board under him to support and secure his back. Laughing with incredulity between his clenched teeth, he refused that particular manouver, and I gave them a brief tutorial on how to logroll a patient with an injured back onto a backboard. After being lifted onto the stretcher, the next challeng arose when these two realized they weren’t strong enough to carry the now-loaded stretcher down the front steps. Seriously, this pair each weighed all of 100 pounds soaking wet and didn’t look old enough to vote. I called out to the crew removing doors, and quickly, four sets of strong capable hands had him safely in the ambulance.

What turned out to be a simple muscle spasm turned into more than a bit of an inconvenience. Tom couldn’t stand upright without severe pain, so a Victorian chair placed on a furniture dolly worked pretty well to allow him to roll around the first floor, and I was able to haul the mattress from our bed down the stairs. We slept on the floor of the front parlor the rest of the weekend.

As for the wall between the parlors, we brought it down after Tom had time to recover. It was a messy job, but well worth the ultimate results…

A few months after we completed the demolition of the wall between the parlors, one of the daughters who used to live in the house sent me a black and white photograph of the parlors as they appeared in the 1880s, to show me how the house used to look. I was so excited to see how glorious the place would look when we were done…the matching mantels, mirrors and chandeliers! We now had a guide. And the chandelier in the rear parlor looks suspiciously like the one now hanging in the dining room…

Carla Minosh

While I am new to Blogging, I have always enjoyed sharing the stories of my crazy life, so this is simply another medium to share, and hopefully entertain and enrich others. Perhaps you can feel thankful that your life is so steady and predictable after reading these, perhaps you can appreciate the insanity and wish you had more of it in your life. Either way, the crazy tales are all true (to the best of my spotty recollection) and simply tell the tale of a life full of exploration, enthusiasm, curiosity and hard work. I hope you all enjoy being a part of the journey.