The grounds and pond at the Hildreth-Robinson house (below, left) in Chelmsford. The 18th-century home was bought in 2005 by engineer Robert Morse, who has been fixing it.
(GLOBE PHOTO BY ZARA TZANEV)
Shouldering history
Burdens and satisfaction found in renovating a run-down 1730 Chelmsford homestead
The grounds and pond at the Hildreth-Robinson house (below, left) in Chelmsford. The 18th-century home was bought in 2005 by engineer Robert Morse, who has been fixing it.
(GLOBE PHOTO BY ZARA TZANEV)
Robert Morse caught the bride's bouquet and doesn't know if he got lucky.
The Chelmsford electrical engineer was the top bidder in November 2005 for the historic Hildreth-Robbins house on Maple Road, and ever since has been sinking money into the real-life money pit.
He is one of those few homeowners who salivate over restoring historic antiques to modern standards -- using up his leisure time to work on a never-ending list of troubles and fixes.
"This has become a big part of my life," Morse said. "When you own a house like this you're always working on it. My conclusion, after talking to other people, is you're either working on it and restoring it or it's falling apart."
Whether hobby or obsession, restoring an old house is not for the timid. It may make for good comedy movie material, but the reality is not so funny.
"People who haven't experienced the charm of renovation can be in for a real test of endurance," said Philip Bates, principal of The Classic Group, a Lexington-based company specializing in restoring and renovating historic homes. "Honestly, I think it can test relationships. It can test the pocketbook. It can test mortality because it can take so long."
The painful pleasure of suddenly owning a highly-prized, run-down property has been slowly dawning on Morse since buying it from the town of Chelmsford in 2006. Using funds coming mostly from a local conservation grant the Route 3 North Land Conservation Grant Program, the town had purchased the building and surrounding 14 acres in 2003 from a private owner for $730,000. After turning almost 13 acres of the property into conservation land, town officials put the remaining parcel and building out to bid for a starting price of $160,000 in fall 2005.
Expecting an onslaught of competitors, Morse bid $251,000. But when the bids were opened, there were only three, and like that, he owned the place.
Since then Morse has budgeted for well over $225,000 in restoration costs, overseen excavation work by hired contractors, and spent most weekends wacking weeds, rather than walking the open space he was so instrumental in preserving as a key member of a land preservation committee.
The 51-year-old Morse, chairman of the town's Community Preservation Committee and a member of the Planning Board, immediately hired contractors to shore up the rambling structure's foundation, and began clearing out the bramble mess from the sides and back.
Built around 1730, the house passed through 21 owners before it landed in Morse's hands. In November, 2006 it was entered on the National Register of Historic Places. It's known colloquially as Red Wing Farm.
The house has five working fireplaces, original wide pine board flooring, horsehair plaster walls, wood paneling, some original iron-hinged latches, five bedrooms, three bathrooms, an attic, and cellar.
Morse demolished a sunroom that was added over the years, and removed a greenhouse. He kept a three-stall barn and several other smaller additions, and the property now has well over 3,000 square feet of living space.
The house is representative of an 18th-century New England farmhouse with details from both the Colonial and Federal eras. It may have grown from a single room structure, said preservation consultant Anne Forbes of Acton.
Linda Prescott, chairwoman of the town's Historical Commission, called it "a hodgepodge" that is "very definitely early 1700's."
"It's really hard to put a label on these houses," she said, "because they evolved . . . like this house did. You can just see where they added on and added on and added on."
Last year, Morse hired a contractor to reinforce the sagging barn and bolstered a piece of the granite foundation where drainage washed away the dirt underneath. Earth piled waist-high in the cellar was also removed to reveal a brick floor underneath. So far his accomplishments include cleared brush and invasive plants that took a year of weekends. But the list of remaining projects he tracks on a spreadsheet has nearly 250 items, from replacing a tub leak in the upstairs bathroom to building windows.
Richard Porter owned the property and lived there from 1953 to 1959 with his wife, Constance. Porter, a retired electrical engineer now living in Jaffrey, N.H., said the house was in fairly good shape a half century ago when their children were young and they boarded horses. His main contribution to the house, he said, was to demolish a huge barn attached to the annex, that probably held about 60 cows, and constructing a smaller barn with loft.
"The house was full of a lot of nice details," said Porter. "Lots of paneling, wide pine floors all over. It had a lot of charm."
His predecessors date back to Sarah Hildreth who inherited the property in 1770 from her father Jonas, who, in turn, took ownership in 1742 from Richard, believed to be Jonas's father. Sarah married John Robbins in 1771.
It was most likely Sarah who scribbled in white chalk on an upstairs bedroom ceiling beam, "Sarah Hildreth, her hand," said Forbes, the preservation consultant. The graffiti is an "absolutely extraordinary feature," she added.
So too, is the backyard setting which includes a catalpa tree, a scenic spring-fed pond, and a portion of a future bike trail on the property's western border. Behind the property are the town's hiking trails.
"Being adjacent to conservation land always enhances a property," said Frederick Lyman, president of American Landmarks of Winchester, a real estate company specializing in sales of historic and period properties.
Because he's so involved in the town, Morse realized the land is a preciously rare commodity in a 23-square mile community with just under 13,000 households and supported the conservation effort.
Lyman said he's restored seven historic antique homes from Missouri to Maine and presently lives in his most recent labor of love overlooking Ipswich Bay in Gloucester.
"It's an act of renewal. Rebirth," he said of the restoration process. "For someone to really understand it, the person has to really love old houses."
Morse said he expects to live at the Chelmsford home with wife, Johanna, until they're in their mid-sixties. The couple's son, Sam, is entering college this fall, and their daughter, Sarah, will be a senior at Chelmsford High School. The family had hoped to move from their ranch home by this fall, but the remedial work on the antique has slowed and Morse doesn't expect to move in until January 2009.
Between now and his expected retirement, the heating and hot water systems will need upgrading, and, using some of the existing post and beams, the 19th-century annex will be replaced to include a master bedroom and bathroom on the second floor, and a recreational room with walkout doors to the patio. A new gas piping system will be installed throughout the house, as well as new water pipes, and the structure will be connected to the town sewer.
Standing outside one summer afternoon, Morse reflected on the future that awaits him.
"I don't see really retiring here," he said. "There's so much work to do . . . realistically, I can't plan that far ahead."
"A whole house restoration is one of the most demanding projects we do with clients," said Bates. "Clients have thousands of decisions to make in renovating a house. That's an incredibly daunting job for anybody."
Bates said owners of homes like the one Morse bought often struggle with understanding how much remedial work is needed before cosmetic renovations of bathrooms and kitchens can begin.
But Prescott, the Historical Commission chairwoman, said Morse is up to the challenge.
"He and his wife love the house. When people love a house like that, they'll put up with a lot of inconveniences," she said.
Joyce Pellino Crane can be reached at crane@globe.com. ![]()