The Roxbury House

Some houses get lucky. They’re born cute, stay dry, and spend their lives hosting holiday dinners and awkward family board games.
Other houses… take the scenic route. The Roxbury House is proudly in the second category: an 1870s Second Empire, two-family home in Boston’s Roxbury neighborhood that slid into foreclosure, sat at risk of becoming “that empty place everyone whispers about,” and then got pulled back from the brink by a rare combo of community grit, nonprofit muscle, and TV-grade perseverance.

If you’ve ever wondered whether a historic home can be saved without turning into a museum (or a money pit that eats your weekends), this project is a masterclass.
For This Old House’s 30th anniversary season, the show partnered with affordable housing nonprofit Nuestra Comunidad to renovate a foreclosed Second Empire for two local familieswhile also bringing in YouthBuild Boston trainees to help finish the job.
It’s part restoration story, part neighborhood stability story, and part “how many surprises can one 150-year-old house hide before it runs out of walls?”

What “The Roxbury House” actually is (and why it’s bigger than a TV makeover)

The Roxbury House project centered on a foreclosed, 1870s Second Empire home with two unitsmeaning two households could live there, build equity, and put down roots.
The goal wasn’t a glossy “after” photo; it was turning a vacant property back into lived-in housing.
In Roxbury, that matters. Vacant homes don’t just look sadthey can drag down a block’s momentum, invite damage, and signal disinvestment.
This project treated the house as what it really is: neighborhood infrastructure.

The approach also reflects how many cities tried to respond to the foreclosure crisis: local governments working with mission-driven nonprofits to acquire distressed properties, rehabilitate them, and return them to productive use.
When it works, it’s one of the most practical forms of community developmentbecause “stability” is a lot easier to build when someone is literally living there and turning on the porch light at night.

Roxbury + Second Empire: a quick tour of the house’s “architectural personality”

The Roxbury House is a Second Empire (also called “mansard” style) homerecognizable by its mansard roof, which is essentially a fancy hat that also creates usable attic space.
It’s the architectural equivalent of showing up to the party dressed formally and having snacks in your pockets.

Second Empire buildings often feature details like decorative dormers, brackets under the eaves, ornate window surrounds, and sometimes an iron crest along the roofline.
They were built to look confidentlike the house is saying, “Yes, I do own a good set of silverware,” even if the basement is currently hosting a mystery puddle.
In many towns, Second Empire homes show up as single residences, duplexes, or rowhousesmaking them historically common and culturally important, not one-off curiosities.

Why that style matters during renovation

With a house like this, “character” isn’t just a vibeit’s specific materials, proportions, and craftsmanship.
When you remove too much, you don’t just lose trim; you lose the whole point of saving the place.
That’s why preservation-minded work tends to follow a simple rule: repair what you can, replace what you must, and match what you replace so the house still reads as itself.

The real work: what made this renovation tough

Renovating a foreclosure isn’t like renovating a house that’s been politely aging. Foreclosed homes often suffer from deferred maintenance, water intrusion, freeze-thaw damage, and “creative” alterations.
The Roxbury House had obvious big-ticket challenges: replacing one side of the foundation, removing a poorly constructed three-story addition, and rebuilding a badly damaged interior.
That’s not a weekend project. That’s a “call your mom and warn her you may be emotionally different afterward” project.

1) Structural stabilization and the foundation problem

Foundation issues are the kind of problem that turns grown adults into poets (“It’s… moving. The house is moving.”).
Addressing them is expensive, messy, and absolutely non-negotiable.
You can’t restore medallions and mantels if the building is trying to slowly return to the earth.
The Roxbury House required replacing one side of its foundationwork that’s invisible in the “after” photos but is the reason those photos can exist at all.

2) Demolishing the bad addition without harming the good house

Old-house renovations often include a moment of truth: deciding what’s historically meaningful versus what’s just “extra square footage that was added in a hurry.”
Here, the three-story rear addition was poorly constructed and had to go.
Removing an addition is not simply reverse-building; it’s surgical.
You’re unbuilding something while protecting adjacent original structureframing, sheathing, and connections that may have been altered over decades.

3) Rebuilding the interior while protecting “the soul” of the place

The Roxbury House had original details worth saving or recreatinglike a marble fireplace mantel, plaster ceiling medallions, and historic millwork.
In old homes, these aren’t just decorations; they’re the fingerprints of how homes were made.
But damage sometimes forces choices: repair if possible; replace if the material is beyond salvage; and if replacing, match the original design so the home keeps its identity.

One of the most delightful details from the project is how craftsmanship gets “passed forward.”
Decorative plaster elements like ceiling medallions can sometimes be recreated by taking molds from intact originals.
That’s restoration logic at its finest: not copying a random catalog piece, but replicating a design that’s consistent with the home’s era and character.

Preservation that still means “livable”: balancing history with modern needs

A home can be historically accurate and still feel comfortable in 2026 (and beyond). The trick is treating the building like a system:
structure, moisture control, mechanicals, insulation, ventilation, and finishes all working together.
The Roxbury House wasn’t rebuilt as a museum set; it was rebuilt as housingmeaning kitchens, baths, and mechanical systems needed to be functional, safe, and maintainable.

Repair vs. replace: the grown-up decisions

Preservation guidance generally emphasizes repairing historic features rather than replacing them whenever feasible, and when replacement is necessary, matching the old in design, texture, and appearance.
That sounds straightforward until you’re staring at water-damaged plaster or missing trim profiles.
The “right” decision often comes down to documentation (photos, fragments, surviving examples), the severity of damage, and what you can reasonably maintain long-term.

Plaster, medallions, and why “old finishes” deserve respect

Plaster walls and decorative details are common in older homes, and they can often be repaired rather than ripped out.
The point isn’t nostalgia; it’s performance and craftsmanship.
Plaster can be durable, sound-deadening, and visually richespecially when paired with period trim and ceiling details.
When restoration teams repair flat plaster or recreate decorative elements, they’re not just keeping things prettythey’re keeping the building’s historic “language” intact.

Safety realities in old-house renovations (a.k.a. the unglamorous but essential chapter)

Any home built before 1978 should trigger one immediate thought: lead paint is possible.
Renovation work that disturbs painted surfaces can create hazardous lead dust, which is why lead-safe practices and certified contractors are required in many situationsespecially for rentals, childcare facilities, and work done as part of commercial renovation activity.
Even if you’re a homeowner doing work yourself, understanding lead-safe steps is part of being responsible with an older home.

Old homes can also hide moisture problems, which can damage materials and affect indoor air quality.
The fix isn’t “make it airtight and hope for the best.”
Modern guidance recommends demonstrating control: reduce uncontrolled air leakage and then provide the ventilation you actually need.
That’s how you get comfort and durabilitywithout trapping issues behind fresh drywall like a time capsule of regret.

Energy efficiency without wrecking the historic character

The energy-efficiency conversation often gets weirdly emotional with old houses.
Some people want to keep every draft “for authenticity,” like discomfort is a historical reenactment.
Others want to seal everything so tight the building can’t exhale.
The sweet spot is targeted improvements that respect the building’s form while upgrading performance.

Start with air sealing and controlled ventilation

Air leakage is one of the biggest sources of comfort and energy loss in older homes.
Practical steps like caulking and weatherstripping can see quick payback and improve comfort.
But the pro move is systematic: identify where leaks are happening, reduce them, and make sure ventilation is addressed intentionally so indoor air stays healthy.

Seal + insulate strategically

Energy-efficiency programs commonly recommend prioritizing the attic and the building shell first.
Sealing air leaks and adding insulation can improve comfort and efficiency, and guidance often includes pairing simple fixes (like weatherstripping) with bigger upgrades when appropriate.
The trick in historic homes is choosing methods that don’t trap moisture against old materialsbecause an efficient house that rots is not, technically speaking, a win.

The community-development angle: why this wasn’t “just another flip”

A flip is usually about margin. The Roxbury House was about outcomes.
The project was designed to convert a foreclosed, vacant property into affordable homeownership units for local families.
That’s fundamentally different from speculative renovation, because the primary goal is neighborhood stability and resident opportunitynot maximizing price per square foot.

There’s also a workforce story here.
YouthBuild Boston trainees participated, connecting hands-on building skills to real-world work.
That’s a powerful combination: a house gets rescued, and young adults gain training and momentum toward careers in the building trades.
In a field that desperately needs skilled labor, “training on a real job” is one of the best arguments for community-based renovation.

What homeowners (and content creators) can learn from The Roxbury House

1) Start with the “boring” stuff: structure, water, and systems

The glamour partstile, paint, lightingare the reward, not the starting point.
If you’re evaluating an older home (especially a distressed property), prioritize foundation, roof, drainage, plumbing, electrical, and mechanical systems.
If those are unstable, everything else becomes an expensive distraction.

2) Decide what makes the house itself

Every historic home has character-defining features: roofline, windows, trim profiles, mantels, plasterwork, staircases, and proportions.
List them. Photograph them. Protect them.
Then decide where you can modernize to support daily lifekitchens, baths, layouts, storagewithout erasing what makes the place special.

3) Use replication thoughtfully, not randomly

When original elements are missing or beyond repair, replication can be responsibleespecially when it’s based on evidence and consistent with the home’s era.
Recreating a ceiling medallion because you have a model or mold is different from slapping on decorative trim that looks “old-timey-ish.”
One respects history. The other is cosplay for houses.

4) Partnering is a renovation superpower

Not every project has a TV crew, but the concept still applies.
The Roxbury House worked because multiple players brought different strengths: nonprofit development and affordability expertise, experienced general contracting, municipal coordination, and workforce training support.
Even at a smaller scale, homeowners can “partner” by assembling the right teaminspector, architect or designer (when needed), preservation-minded contractor, and specialists who understand older structures.

Experiences: what The Roxbury House feels like when you picture living it

The most human part of The Roxbury House isn’t the mansard roof or the replicated plasterworkit’s the moment the house turns back into a home.
Not “a project,” not “a property,” not “a before-and-after demonstrating the power of grit.” A home.
You can feel that shift when the final pieces go in: light fixtures, window treatments, the last bit of mulch out front, the gate installed out back.
Suddenly the building stops looking like a jobsite and starts looking like somewhere you’d drop your keys, kick off your shoes, and argue about what’s for dinner.

And dinner matters here. In the project’s finish-line scenes, family arrives, a wrap party gathers the crew, and Lanita Tolentino’s grandmother gets a pot of Cape Verdean cachupa going on the new stove.
That detail is more than charmingit’s the point.
A restored house isn’t “complete” when the paint dries; it’s complete when food is cooking, laughter bounces off the walls, and the space is doing what housing is supposed to do: hold a life.

Imagine walking through a freshly renovated unit in a building that once stood empty.
You’d notice the obvious upgrades first: the clean kitchen lines, the living space that finally makes sense, the bathroom choices that feel personal instead of generic.
But then the historic parts start to registertrim that has convinced you it’s always been there, a mantel that anchors the room like it’s seen a century of winters, and ceiling details that don’t scream for attention but quietly elevate everything.
It’s like putting on a well-tailored jacket: you don’t have to announce it; you just stand differently.

There’s also a very specific “old house, new brain” experience that comes with learning your home’s systems.
Down in the basement, homeowners in these projects often get a crash course on mechanicalsbecause modern comfort depends on understanding the gear that makes it happen.
You can almost picture the first week: someone proudly adjusting a thermostat, someone else learning where the shutoff is “just in case,” and everyone collectively agreeing that basements are for storage, systems, and occasional existential reflection.

If you’ve ever lived in a two-family, you know it has its own rhythm.
It can feel like the perfect compromise between privacy and community: you’ve got your own unit, but you’re not alone on an island.
You might see your neighbors on the steps, coordinate package deliveries, or share a quick “how’s it going?” while taking out the trash.
In neighborhoods where vacancy and foreclosure have taken a toll, that everyday presence is powerful.
Lights on. Curtains hung. Someone home.
It signals that the block is loved againand love, it turns out, is one of the best home-improvement materials available.

The emotional payoff is real, too, especially when the homeowner has deep neighborhood ties.
There’s something uniquely satisfying about living in a place that’s not only renovated, but rescuedparticularly when it’s close to where you grew up.
It’s the opposite of displacement.
It’s continuity: the means to stay near your community, your routines, your people, while stepping into a home that’s safer, more comfortable, and genuinely yours.

Conclusion

The Roxbury House is a reminder that preservation and progress don’t have to fight.
A foreclosed 1870s Second Empire could have stayed empty, deteriorated further, and become a neighborhood burden.
Instead, through nonprofit leadership, skilled restoration, workforce training, and a very public accountability engine (hello, cameras), it became something practical and hopeful: two homeownership opportunities, one stabilized property, and one less vacant house on a Boston street.

If you’re researching historic home renovation, affordable housing models, or simply trying to understand how a “beautiful old house” becomes a functioning modern home, this project offers a clear takeaway:
save the structure, respect the character, modernize the systems, and keep the end goal in focusreal people living well.
Because the best “after” photo is not staged décor. It’s a pot simmering on the stove and a family making memories in a house that finally gets to do its job again.