Eventually, the stars aligned and construction crews departed, leaving the 30-something couple—both dentists—plenty to smile about. Today, they are the proud, and relieved, owners of a chic condo in a circa-1890s building in historic Frederick. (Prouder yet are they of an even newer addition, Maryn, noted for racing around the condo on her Big Wheel, which she parks underneath the grand piano.)
“Thrilled” is how Rajaski and Little felt when they first spied the building’s handsome 19th-century façade. But they knew keeping their living quarters period-appropriate wasn’t an option.
During both the Truman and Nixon administrations, the twin apartments (since combined) had undergone major facelifts “on the cheap,” notes Rhonda McLaughlin, who handled the space’s architectural layout and interior design. The trio knew extensive renovation was needed, but not until they clawed through the cobwebs did they see that a cosmetic nip and tuck had no hope of making a Sleeping Beauty out of 2,000 square feet of ugly duckling.
“It was a dump,” McLaughlin recalls.
As McLaughlin ticked off the to-do list, Rajaski could hear a cash register cha-chinging a one-note samba. The news was sobering: Basketball-sized craters in the floors. Commercial dropped ceilings partially obstructing the windows. Dreary paneling everywhere. And kitschy appliances that would have sent the Brady Bunch screaming in horror. McLaughlin recalls that every room “was like a little dungeon.”
Curious, Rajaski placed marbles on the floor to test for levelness. They scattered in every direction. Cha-ching!
Saws whirred. Hammers pounded. Demolition workers kicked up storms of dust—and uncovered not a few surprises. The disintegrating walls, they discovered, were made of horsehair plaster from the age of Robber Barons and buggy whips. The primitive electrical wiring seemed installed by Thomas Edison himself. A sledgehammer revealed a hidden fireplace bearing a bird’s nest.
Meanwhile, outside on a roof slated to become a patio, workers tackled a Pike’s Peak of broken beer bottles left by former tenants seemingly inspired by Animal House. Says Little, who volunteers with Mission of Mercy, providing free dental care for the needy, “All in all, what we had was one big mess.”
Like root canal, the couple learned that home renovation isn’t for wimps.
McLaughlin’s master plan called for knocking out a half-dozen interior walls, merging the two apartments into a 115-year-old shell, rebuilding to modern standards, and letting natural light work its magic. And for these busy professionals, warm, welcoming décor was good; snooty wasn’t. Brazilian cherry flooring certainly sounded fab, but durable hickory that could withstand high heels, boots, and tricycling toddlers made more sense.
Today, Rajaski and Little couldn’t be happier with McLaughlin’s wizardry. The condo has verve, personality. Friends can’t believe the “before” and “after” photos.
“Rhonda did a fantastic job,” Rajaski beams. “She added three feet to our ceiling and gave us an all-new home, except for the vintage windows.” And those windows were definitely made for looking. Through them, Maryn—a blonde-haired, blue-eyed force of nature—enjoys entertaining the al-fresco breakfast crowd across the street at Proof bakery.
“She waves to them, and they wave right back,” Little laughs.
There’s something special, something homey yet exciting, about Frederick, the couple declare. “I like that the Frederick Marathon and Kris Kringle parade pass right in front of us,” Rajaski chuckles. Little nods, “Downtown is Maryn’s playground, and Baker Park is her front yard. We love it here.”
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