Last November, at the 2024 Historic New England Summit in Portland, Maine, author and architectural conservator Lee McColgan dazzled audiences with a tale, better than fiction, of his journey to restore the Loring House in Pembroke, Massachusetts. In A House Restored: The Tragedies and Triumphs of Saving a New England Colonial, he recounts restoring his crumbling 1702 home using traditional methods and reflects on a personal transformation sparked by preserving the past. Sharing his story of highs, lows, and nearly lost toes, McColgan animatedly walked the stage, pausing to ask of his decision to repair the entire house himself, using only historical tools and techniques, in eighteen months:
“People, is this a good idea?”
“No!” The audience responded.
“No! This is a horrible idea, but I’m going to do it anyway.”
I called Lee on a sunny day in April and found him at home, immersed in a project to repair several historic windows. He was gracious enough to take a moment away from his work to talk with me about what he’s been doing since the Summit, and we caught up on how the house is doing now, the drive to create, and how some people are just wired for a career in preservation.
Lee McColgan: Well, the book tour is winding down now, so there’s the question of, where do we go next? Of course, despite the title of the book I wrote, A House Restored, the work is never done. I see more big projects in the future. The house is definitely going to need a new roof at some point. Another thing that I will probably tackle soon is repointing parts of the rubble stone foundation in the main house. There are just endless things. Right now I have the writing bug too. I went from the corporate world to preservation, and preservation to writing. And now I want to write.
You know, I’m someone who’s guilty of too much philosophical thinking. I think about the big picture of life—and why the heck are we here? And when you do that, you realize that that life is short. It goes by fast. That’s what led me down this path. I had one of those moments in my career where I had to stop and say, “what am I doing with myself?” And that led me to this work. It led me to writing, and it’s led me to these things that I’ve been far more enthusiastic about than what I was doing in my previous life, at least career-wise. I’m always looking for a creative outlet. Preservation work and writing—these are things that I just get excited about.
Sometimes you’re just hardwired, or certain life experience shapes you, and you’re drawn to a certain thing. I was born in Massachusetts, and when I was young, my family decided to relocate to Vermont. I went from a suburb in Framingham to a small town that had mountains in my backyard. And for whatever reason, I’ve just always had a fascination with building and making things. When you’re out in the woods playing with friends, you’ve got that kind of freedom where for the first time you’re out from under the watch of adults. And you’re building lean-tos, stacking stones to dam up a river and make a swimming hole, gathering pine boughs, scooping up clay from riverbanks to use as mortar.
If I look at what preservation work is, it’s really an extension of that. Hewing beams, you’re working with this rough-cut wood or hand tools. It’s a refined way of working with these materials, but there are similarities that I find satisfying. I think that’s the appeal of traditional building methods. Preservationists, we’re just wired a certain way, I guess.
One of the things that fascinated me about the direction that Historic New England has been going is that it’s expanding the scope of what fits under the preservation umbrella. It’s interesting to see some of the other speakers that are brought in to the Summit, because I’m so used to these conferences that I go to that are just nuts and bolts—all of the content is old house focused. And of course, I have no problem with that. I’m an old house guy, I’m part of the old house club. But that is always going to limit your audience. It’s nice to see some of these speakers and programs that are designed to expand what fits under the umbrella of preservation. I’m fascinated with buildings and how things are made. And it’s easy to just say, “oh, we’ve got to preserve these things and save the building fabric.” But that’s not really it, it doesn’t expand the vision of what engages people in historic preservation. So, I’m always fascinated with that expanded vision.
I’m reading a book called The Age of Wood by Roland Ennos. I’m not very far into it, but it’s right up my alley. This book, although it’s about wood, it’s a history of wood mashed into a book about human civilization. It starts out with humans as early primates, and how we used wood to advance our civilizations. And you know, we think of the Stone Age, the Bronze Age—that’s because a lot of these wood tools and things that would have been used, they just didn’t survive. We don’t really have their records. That broader context makes the topic a lot more engaging, which is something I always try to do with the stories that I tell.
Lee McColgan has worked on Boston’s Old North Church, Louisa May Alcott’s Orchard House, and other buildings. His work has appeared in Architectural Digest, The New York Times, The Boston Globe, and The Wall Street Journal. He is the author of A House Restored: The Tragedies and Triumphs of Saving a New England Colonial. He lives with his wife in the Loring House in Pembroke, Massachusetts.
Looking for inspiring stories, creative thinking, and new connections? Join the conversation at the 2025 Historic New England Summit in New Haven, Connecticut, November 13 & 14.
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