All the neighborhood kids gathered on the porch of the old farmhouse that was built in 1906. This was in the 1990s, and they hung out doing what kids did then—downloading beats on Napster, chatting with girls on AOL.
That farmhouse wasn’t really a farmhouse anymore, though. It had long been swallowed up by the growth of Concord, North Carolina.
Among that crowd was Adam Miller, a new kid in town, who remembers always being welcomed there, in his best friend’s old family home, along historic Cabarrus Avenue.
But good times can’t last forever.
Those days faded into a memory when the family sold the farmhouse to new owners who didn’t treat it right, and, suffering neglect, it soon fell into a state of total dilapidation.
Yet hope wasn’t all lost. It so happened, Mr. Miller, now 39, returned to save his best friend’s old home, as he'd joined the business of breathing new life into historic American houses. And seeing the farmhouse, now pushing 120 years old, in shambles yet still full of uniqueness and Carolinian charm, he acted.
He noted some questionable activities had gone on there. “It was constantly being broken into, windows broken, and people liked sleeping in it,” Mr. Miller told The Epoch Times, adding that the second owners had sold it to a developer in terrible condition.
It goes without saying that the developer’s plan was to tear it down and put up a new apartment infill along the historic avenue. “It’s his land. He has every right to, but it didn’t sit right, you know what I mean?” Mr. Miller said, recalling fond childhood memories.
Spurred into action, in early 2021 he saw a win-win opportunity. “I paid $4,500 for the house originally. It’s $20,000 to demo so they save $20,000, plus make $4,500,” he said. “That’s a win for me and them.”
The catch was the developer wasn’t about to cede his infill, so Mr. Miller, from New Orleans originally, needed to lift the house off its foundations and ship it 5 miles down the road. It would work out perfectly (in theory), for his wife’s sister and her husband were in the market for a historic home.
Another problem was how the big, traditional American foursquare—already on its last legs, to boot—would be moved. You had to cut it in two, Mr. Miller said. You remove the siding, save the hundreds of pricelessly original trim pieces, labelling each ad nauseum, grab the thinnest blade you have, and saw the most seamless path possible—straight down the middle.
The prep alone took one and a half months. “You have to think three steps ahead,” Mr. Miller said, noting that the porches couldn’t be towed on a lowboy with the rest, and so were hooked to a truck and it just drove off, collapsing them in. “The chimneys have to be removed, they cannot travel, they would just crash through the roof, crash on cars,” he said. “Very dangerous.”
Moving day was filled with angst for Mr. Miller—probably because spending all that money to ensure everything went right could never guarantee it would. They pulled out all the stops for safety, raising temporary walls, endlessly prepping. It was a big gamble, but “everything worked out perfectly,” he said, just “as smoothly as it could.”
In October 2022, the house was hoisted up by hydraulics, set on a trailer, and driven—slowly, at just 15 miles per hour—with a sheriff escort, to their in-law siblings’ country estate 45 minutes up the road. They entered via a new road built for that purpose and set the house on its brand-new block and brick combination foundation.
Mr. Miller’s big worry was that it would go wonky and the old plaster walls would crack. None did, amazingly. Yet there were some hiccups.
“The house started very level,” Mr. Miller said. “When we got there, and we put it on its solid foundation, it just was no longer level.” By jacking here and there, they straightened it out with a few piers. “It’s an old home so you can get away with a little bit of being unlevel.”
To ensure structural integrity, the reassembly was contracted out and taken care of. Mr. Miller ended up doing a full demolition of the plaster, choosing Gyprock instead. All of that trim was painstakingly reset, imbuing unparalleled personality. All-new plumbing, electricity, and utilities were installed while the original fireplaces were made non-functional with faux mantles—though Mr. Miller found an ingenious use for the rustic bricks, still brimming with character.
Mr. Miller’s wife, Jessica, planned and oversaw the old farmhouse’s sleek interior decoration. Together they own a warehouse filled with reclaimed antique furniture and décor collected for historic staging purposes.
Among the unique highlights were the kitchen island made from a reclaimed farmhouse table; the priceless bookcases owned by his late mother; the custom-cut window panels.
And all those reclaimed red chimney bricks?
“We built this beautiful walkway to the front of the house,” Mr. Miller said. “That was just a beautiful metaphor for just taking something to be discarded and making it a feature. It just added so much character to that entryway.”
To describe the home’s uniqueness after renovation, it feels old but very well-kept to the point of being designer level. Not in a million years would you suspect it’s been through hell—or cut in two.
From every aspect, it looks all but new. “I checked every box for this house, and you go in, and it’s warm and cozy and energy efficient,” Mr. Miller said.
“I mean, it is a showstopper,” he said, adding that it’s one of his best historic houses (he has over a dozen under his belt). “I don’t think there are many nicer houses in town.”
The farmhouse from 1906, where Mr. Millar spent days as a kid in the 90s, was sold at cost to family: Rachel and Jackson McWaters, who moved in last October. The renovation was so markedly successful that the Millers were contacted by Magnolia TV channel, who documented it from start to finish. It will be aired in late December on Discovery+.
