Restoring the Historic Young House at Heritage Farmstead Museum

This is the story of a little house that could have easily been lost to urban progress—but thanks to the tenacity of one woman, Gladys Young, the house lived on.

The nearly-forgotten, modest pioneer house is a treasure to preservationists. It represents much of the frontier spirit still embodied by Texans today.

Samuel Young and his family were early settlers who arrived in north Texas in 1844. He established the family’s homestead with a primitive log cabin. Samuel’s son, John Young built the Young house that we know today sometime around 1880.

The oldest photo of the Young House that was provided by the Heritage Farmstead Museum, date unknown. The decorative picket fence surrounds the yard and the three gables on the second floor are visible. There was a wide covered porch and a balcony accessible from the upstairs hall. An ornate railing made of flat sawn balusters decorates the balcony.

(TOP) Gladys, pictured here as a young girl in the 1910s, was born in 1903, and grew up in the house with her parents and siblings. As a child, she attended the one-room school near her home and took music lessons from local teachers.

Music was a life-long love, and it inspired her to continue learning in her adult years. She made her living by giving music lessons. Gladys Young lived in the same home her entire life on her family’s farm in Plano, Texas. A painting of the Young House hung in a place of honor over her piano, as you can see in the 1995 photo above.

Gladys lived a simple life and preferred it that way. In the 1940s, sixty years after it was built, the house was wired for electricity. Over the years, she acquired a few modern conveniences: a refrigerator, space heater, a radio, and a television. She cooked on a gas stove which was in the kitchen at the back of the house. She did not have running water – she made do with rain barrels, bottles of water brought by friends, or store-bought water for cooking and drinking. She lived there until shortly before her death in 1998 at the age of 94.

(TOP) The house, built in the 1880s, is an early example of Gothic Victorian architecture with triple gables across the front. Pictured here before restoration.

The tale of the Young House could have ended there, but by the sheer curiosity of Plano’s heritage preservation officer, Marcus Watson, the house was discovered. Plans to save the piece of Texas history came together, and in 2001, the Young House found a new home.

Bringing the Past Forward: The Young House at Heritage Farmstead Museum

You might have seen entire buildings moved on large trailers with great fanfare by on-looking community members. The Young House would not have withstood the nine-mile trek to its new location. Instead, the exterior walls, floor, and roof of Young House were systematically dismantled piece by piece. The individual planks of wood were carefully labeled, moved, and rebuilt at the Heritage Farmstead Museum property. The house was reassembled without interior partitions to serve as a space for meetings and special exhibits. And while the interior is not how its previous owner would remember it, we are thankful it is here to tell its story.

(ABOVE) In 2001, the Young House was moved and rebuilt at the Heritage Farmhouse Museum.

(BELOW) The interior was left open to be used as a meeting place for the museum.

A New Chapter Begins

In 2014, our firm, hpd architecture + interiors, was invited to help write the next chapter for the Young House. Working alongside consulting preservation architect Ann Abernathy, AIA, we were asked to design and document a small but meaningful addition.
The goal? To assess the information available and determine the best solution to the Museum’s need for accessible restrooms and a catering kitchen. This wasn’t a simple case of adding square footage. Working with historic buildings never is. And in this case, the project was made possible through a grant—a key factor that helped the museum take on this next step in telling the Young family’s story and serving the visitors of the museum.

Understanding What Was Lost—and What Could Be Rebuilt

Months of research, combing through files, scanning old photos, and studying previous master plans were just the beginning. Before we could begin designing the new kitchen addition, we needed to understand which original materials had been salvaged—and what was known about the old kitchen lean-to that had been demolished when the house was moved.

(ABOVE) The original kitchen wing was demolished when the house was moved.

(BELOW) The house was reconstructed in its new location, but without the kitchen wing.

We approached this work in three phases:

• Gathering historical context, including past master plans and archival photos
• Evaluating what was known and unknown about the house and site
• Designing a sensitive reconstruction of the kitchen wing that designated 1935 as the restoration period

We worked closely with museum staff to prioritize what could be accomplished within the budget, while still honoring the home’s original character and achieving the restoration project goals.

Before construction of the addition in 2015, the Young House was used for events and exhibits.

Preserving a historic home or rebuilding a missing piece isn’t just about materials and layout—it’s also about process. Read Restoring Historic Properties  – Working Within the Rules to find out more about taking your restoration project from planning to formal review.

Designing With Accuracy—and Compassion

With our preliminary plans approved, we continued to dive deeper into the development of the design. As we pieced together clues about the historic kitchen layout, we found photographs taken in the mid-1990s while Gladys still lived there. In one particular photo, the old wood-burning stove and pipe flue still stood in place, connecting to the chimney—well-used and surrounded by the simple details of daily life. No running water. No frills. Just a functional space filled with memory.

This surviving photo of the original wood-burning stove guided decisions about layout of the reconstructed kitchen.

That one image of the stove—still standing after nearly a century—anchored our design approach. It reminded us that this was once a deeply personal space, shaped by daily rituals and quiet routines. But the building now has a new life as part of a public museum. Our role was to honor the memory of Gladys’ kitchen while making it functional for today’s visitors.

The 2015 addition (seen here during construction) recreated the original kitchen’s footprint and added accessible restrooms and space for the catering kitchen. The ADA ramp is carefully integrated at the west side to provide access for all guests.

As we developed the construction documents, we focused on matching original details as closely as possible. Wherever we had clear photographic or physical evidence—window sizes, trim profiles, siding patterns—we reproduced them at full scale. We referenced original dimensions and material types to guide every decision.

Only when modern building codes or structural requirements required a change did we modify the design. In those cases, we made sure the adjustments were subtle and respectful of the house’s original character.

We matched the original window locations and sizes as closely as possible, balancing historical accuracy with modern requirements. From porch rafters to siding profiles, we studied every detail of the original construction and echoed them in the new work.

Photos of the original house were helpful for us to understand the early construction from the 1880’s.

Why This Project Still Matters

Historic restoration is often about compromise. You balance what was with what’s possible. But when done right, it’s also about respect. Respect for the materials, the stories, and the people who lived there. By the time we were designing the addition, we felt like we knew Gladys. In some ways, it felt like she was cheering us on—hoping we’d restore her kitchen where it belonged.

As with any architectural project, defining your goals and intended outcomes is critical. The goal for this project was always to provide the museum with accessible restrooms and a catering kitchen to support their programs and event rentals. Had the goal of the project been to create an exact replica of the interior rooms and kitchen as they were in 1935, it would have been an entirely different project.

To be honest, I would have enjoyed that project. We could have restored the interior walls, brought the stair back to its original place, and recreated her kitchen. Gladys had pie safes, antique furniture, a rocking chair, and layers of wallpaper that told their own stories. How wonderful it would be to stand in her home, hear her play the piano, and feel the quiet rhythm of her daily life.

Perhaps in the future there will be new interest and grants to support restoring more of the home’s history. Even so, the work we did brought back a missing piece. It gave the house its balance again. And it reminds us that historic homes aren’t just structures—they are lives, layered and real, still waiting to be honored.