Desiree Lowit and Jay Majerowski learned first-hand that recent shifts in real estate markets make purchasing a home challenging. The story of how they found a place demonstrates that human connection is an important ingredient of success.
“We looked at several offerings,” said Lowit, a therapist. “We loved a place we saw in one of the hilltowns. Unfortunately there was no running water, not even infrastructure for plumbing. That seemed like a problem.”
The couple looked at a few other places but didn’t find anything to meet their needs.
Then Lowit got a call from her friend Bev, who lives in Turners Falls. “One of her elderly neighbors had died, and Bev thought it might be good for me to contact the family of the deceased and tactfully inquire about the house before it went on the market.”
Lowit’s friend reached out to the family first, then contacted Lowit and said, “Go for it.”
Lowit and Majerowski drove by the K Street house. “We loved it right away,” said Majerowski, who works at Green Fields Market. “Even before seeing the interior, we felt good about the place.”
Lowit knew it was a gamble to contact the family of the deceased. “I wrote a long and impassioned letter,” she said. “I wanted to respectfully let the family know about the heartfelt dreams Jay and I had about the house.”
The couple decided to stop looking at properties. They couldn’t shake the feeling that they’d found their new home. “We’d put the intention out there strongly on New Year’s Day,” said Lowit, “and decided to trust.”
Other friends reminded Lowit and Majerowski that they’d never even been inside the house and should hold off getting too excited. “But we could tell this was the place for us,” said Majerowski.
Their hopes soared after receiving a positive response to Lowit’s letter.
Upon visiting the home, their feelings of certainty grew. The couple toured the first and second floors, and then headed to the basement. Their tour guide — a member of the former owner’s family — paused before heading down the stairs, saying, “Get a load of this.”
What they found was beyond their wildest imagination. Reaching the bottom step, they came upon a decorative door covered with scrollwork.
Scrollwork describes forms of decoration typified by spiraling scrolls, often with decorative flourishes and arabesques, especially those with circular or spiraling shapes.
“Go ahead,” their host urged. “Open the door. You’re in for a treat.”
At first, they couldn’t get the door to open but found that it swings in fairly easily when lifted slightly. After flicking on the light, they gasped.
“It was like falling into a fairy tale,” said Lowit. “The small room was highly decorated with scrollwork: birds, flowers, horse-drawn carriages. Everywhere we looked, we saw beauty.”
All parties agreed to the house sale.
“It felt like a dream come true,” said Lowit. “Had it not been for my friend, Bev, this never would’ve happened. We just couldn’t compete with wealthy buyers from out of town who seem like they’re buying up all of Western Mass.”
With the sale finalized, Lowit and Majerowski began the arduous process of moving while continuing to work their full-time jobs. The sale included the contents of the house, and there were a lot of decisions about what to keep and what to get rid of.
“It was a slog,” Majerowski admitted. “We worked ’round the clock for weeks, emptying our old place and setting up here. Looking back, it’s all a blur, honestly.”
They put items out on the tree belt for passersby to peruse. Word got out, bringing a parade of people, including some who’d known previous inhabitants of the house.
“One day, a guy came by and asked if he could come in and look around,” said Majerowski. “Long gray hair, tall, affable fellow. We invited him in, and it was obvious he knew the place.”
The visitor introduced himself as Kevin Collins and asked to see the basement. The couple followed him, curious.
“We wanted to see his reaction,” Lowit explained. “Was he familiar with the scrollwork?”
Upon reaching the basement, their visitor immediately expressed dismay.
“We asked him what was wrong, and he said the scrollwork had been vandalized. He was angry to see the damage,” Majerowski said.
The couple asked Collins what he knew about the origins of the scrollwork. “I made it,” their visitor replied. “I did all of this, and some of it needs to be fixed. What’s wrong with people that they would destroy my work?”
Tenants had inhabited the house for a time, Collins told them, and he guessed that people who didn’t have a stake in the home must have done the damage.
“It’s a shame,” said Collins. “But I can fix it.”
Thus began a series of visits from Collins, who now lives a few blocks away. Over several weeks, Collins worked to restore the scrollwork to its original glory.
Lowit and Majerowski learned that the house had been built by Collins’ great-uncle, Charlie Ummer. Collins devoted thousands of hours turning the basement into an intricately decorated space.
Collins had also added a bathroom to the basement, and covered that, too, with beautiful artistry.
“I transformed that room, a former coal bin, so I could have another space for hanging out,” Collins said. “I raised the floor up in case of flooding.” Before that, he said, “The basement was nasty, filled with junk, covered with dirt and soot. I wanted to create a haven. I had a vision in mind.”
Collins began by creating decorations with his new scroll saw. “I’d make one, and put it up. I just kept going.” Using almost all pine at a time when lumber was “dirt cheap,” Collins built the room using two-by-fours ripped in half. “I think an 8-foot two-by-four was about a dollar at that time,” he said.
Collins managed to put in the little bathroom adjacent to his haven “for about $500.” At times, he used scrap wood or odds and ends — whatever he could find.
Collins grew up in the K Street house with four siblings. Collins’ Uncle Charlie built other homes on K Street, too, which to this day remain in the family. “A sister lives in one, and a brother lives in another,” he said.
An all-around carpenter, Charlie Umber had other talents, as well. “He built his own telescope,” said Collins. “He dabbled in making marble statues and, after he retired, moved to Florida and built a sailboat.”
Collins seems to have inherited a creative gene. When he was in his 20s, Collins’ father gave him a scroll saw, and Kevin started making decorations, igniting a lifelong passion.
Like his father and two brothers, Collins worked for the Boston & Maine railroad company, starting at age 18.
Boston & Maine was a U.S. Class I railroad in northern New England, which in 1983 became part of what’s now the Pan Am Railways network. In its heyday, B&M operated 1,515 route-miles on 2,481 miles of track.
Starting in 1972, Collins earned $3.83 per hour. “That seemed like big money back then,” he said. “Minimum wage was $1.60. So taking home over $100 a week seemed huge.
“I did pretty much every job in my 43 years with the railroad,” Collins continued. “I was a shop engineer, jockeying engines in and out of the Deerfield facility. I dealt with fuel, water, oil, ran the turntable, operated forklifts and cranes, anything connected with keeping the trains up and running.”
He worked every type of shift, too. “Days, nights, swing shifts, you name it. I worked them all,” Collins said.
During his time at B&M, Collins said there were about 100 workers at the engine house. “Now it’s down to so few,” he lamented. “It used to be a fun place to work.”
He still sees a few former co-workers, though. “We have lunch once a month and catch up. We’re all retired, so we just shoot the breeze.”
Referring to his railroad job, Collins said, “I loved many parts of it, even though it was really hard work. But I had to figure out what to do when I wasn’t working. That’s where woodworking came in. It beats sitting on a bar stool.”
Collins, 67, retired eight years ago when he required a knee replacement. “My job involved constantly climbing up and down ladders,” he explained. “It became impossible.”
He’s preparing for another knee surgery. “It’s time to replace the replacement,” Collins said. “It gives me a lot of pain, this knee, and now I have heart problems, too.”
Yet Collins doesn’t just sit in his easy chair. While it’s not as easy for him to get up and down the stairs to the basement workshop in his current home, his artistry continues.
The home Collins shares with Charlene, his partner of 30 years, is graced with creativity of many kinds. He’s teaching his stepdaughter, Joanna, the art of wood burning, and she’s producing lovely items to share with her own three children.
“We have lots of kids and grandkids, including triplets,” said Collins. “I enjoy making things for them.”
Collins creates holiday decorations and gives them away to friends, family and passersby. On a recent morning, shortly before Halloween, Lowit played instrumental music with bandmates on her porch. Collins stopped by with Halloween decorations for everyone, including witches, cats and pumpkins.
“Around Christmas, I make about 100 ornaments and pass them out to people I know and people I don’t know,” Collins said.
His talents extend beyond the scroll saw. “I’ve built furniture and made toys, including a dollhouse and tiny furniture,” Collins said. He pulled out a bridge he made from popsicle sticks, wood pieces and paint.
Simultaneously simple and elaborate, the creation depicts cars going over a bridge, a train on a track running alongside, and people on a little walkway on the opposite side of the bridge. Tiny traffic signs direct miniature drivers, and a sailboat floats in blue, white and gray waters below the bridge.
When asked if he’d sketched it out first, Collins replied, “Nope. It’s all from my imagination. I’d lay awake nights thinking about it.”
While health issues prevent Collins from working at the levels he previously enjoyed, he continues to create beautiful objects. “I have loads of lumber lying around, and while I used to work mainly with pine, now I love using oak, since it holds up better. Cedar, also.”
Meanwhile, Lowit and Majerowski settle into their new home.
“I was struck by Kevin’s story,” said Lowit. “He was very devoted to his parents, and helped care for his dad during a long illness. And beyond being so obviously committed to his family, sometimes he just shows up and gives us ornaments and beautiful things he’s made. Kevin is a remarkable person.”
Eveline MacDougall is the author of “Fiery Hope” and can be contacted at eveline@amandlachorus.org or P.O. Box 223, Greenfield, MA 01302.