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Long Live the Queen:
Page [1] [2]
[3]
“It was a wonderful, wonderful
home,” Marjorie recalls. “And the previous owners had maintained it really
well,” Michael adds. “Nobody had messed with the house for a hundred years,” Michael says—and that was just the point. The couple, who work at home as well as in their respective in-town offices, quickly realized that the previous owners’ hands-off policy may have left precious architectural details intact, but the mechanicals were in dire need of an update. The house felt gloomy—not conductive to working at home, much less to entertaining there. And the yard needed to be regraded and replanted to make it more inviting. Their mission—to build a 21st century infrastructure into the 19th-century house, “while maintaining its character,” as Michael puts it—didn’t start with a manifesto but rather, with one single, simple need: “There was no bathroom on the first floor,” Marjorie says. “Everything grew from there.” Inspired by the renovator’s motto, “As long as we’re going this far, we might as well…,” the list expanded to include alterations on every floor. On the practical side, the couple had to upgrade the electrical and plumbing systems, which had not been significantly touched in 50 years; it seemed only sensible to add central air conditioning and to heat the third floor. They also wanted to enlarge the master bathroom on the second floor and add a bathroom to the third floor, which would contain guest quarters for Michael’s two grown children plus Marjorie’s home office. On the aesthetic side, “we tried to maximize the natural light,” Marjorie says. And, although the kitchen was workable, “it was someone’s idea of a dream kitchen 30 years ago,” Michael recalls. “We wanted to have a big kitchen, to inspire us to learn how to cook, “Marjorie explains. “Neither of us was much of a cook before; now we cook more often—and enjoy it more.” As word got out about the scope of the couple’s remodeling, tensions mounted. Neighbors wondered whether the “new people” would ruin the architectural integrity of the street. But they’ve been vindicated. When visitors view the finished project—a masterfully coordinated work of new architecture, restoration, interior design, and landscape architecture—their reactions are uniformly full of praise. “One gratifying thing is that most people—including an architectural historian friend—have mistaken new additions for originals,” Michael says with pride. Foresight and careful planning had everything to do with the couple’s sleight-of-hand. From the start, for instance, they knew the level of finish they desired throughout their home: All new walls would be plaster (no drywall), and all woodwork (and oak floors) would be restored—or replaced—to match the originals. In other words, old and new would seamlessly blend so the house would continue to look as if it hadn’t been touched since it was built. To accomplish this, the couple wanted to hire professionals who would listen closely to their desires, collaborate on the design, supervise the construction—and complete the project as quickly as possible. Winnowing their choices, though, took some time. To start, they interviewed a number of architects before settling on Charles R. Myer, whose practice, happily, is based only 15 minutes away. Myer introduced them to several trusted colleagues whom he knew well and had worked with before. These included Don Knerr, who would be the project architect; general contractor Alex Slive of S&H Construction, Inc.; interior designer Andra Birkerts, and landscape designer and contractor Jean Brooks, Myer’s wife. “One of the things that made our house turn out so well was this team,” Marjorie says. “They made it happen with great creativity and sensitivity to our needs.”
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