Renovating a Tired 50s Split Level for a New Chapter

In the living room, the fireplace was stripped of its wood mantel and clad in a vertical white ceramic tile from International Materials of Design. Coffee table and Chinese urn are from Christopher Filley Antiques. The small brass floor lamps are from RH. Teak-root side table is from Wisteria. The Little Flower Shop provided the live magnolia branches. *All photos by Aaron Leimkuehler*

“Man plans, God laughs,” is the English translation of the old Yiddish proverb. Well, God had a good chuckle when my late husband, Warren Maus, and I planned to build our “forever home” after years of renovating and moving through a series of houses sprinkled all around Kansas City.

Just before we moved into our new contemporary home on the Westside, Warren was diagnosed with Parkinson’s. For a while, almost six years, we thought that our dream house could accommodate his illness, but in the end, we knew a smaller, easier-to-navigate house would be best.

So the search began again.

**Left:** Major enjoys an expansive view of the backyard. The lamp and wingback chair are estate-sale finds. **Right:** New Anderson windows were installed throughout the house. Vintage mercury-glass vases top the English Art Deco mahogany armoire.

One Sunday afternoon I drove past an open house for sale in Fairway. Fun fact: It was just blocks from a previous home we’d renovated. And back then, on my frequent walks, I’d always pass this house and think “that’s the ugliest house in the neighborhood.” It was a ’50s split level, dropped into a neighborhood of cozy cottages oozing with character. It was also painted split pea-soup green, which didn’t help. A quick tour through the house and I crossed it off my list. Too small, no first-floor bathroom, and the public spaces were a warren of rooms divided by walls that stopped a foot or two shy of the ceiling.

But I kept going back to it, both in my mind and online. It was a split level, yes, but it was only five steps up to the bedrooms. We could vault the ceiling. All those weird walls could come down. It had fine oak floors throughout that just needed to be refinished. An addition could add a first-floor powder room and a library for our extensive book collection and the TV. I had been enamored of Parisian designer Joseph Dirand’s marble-filled kitchen; something similar could be done here. Finally, the pool I so desired could be added in the backyard.

Oh, and that view! A lush, treed golf course bordered by a creek and a stone wall. What garden designers would call a “borrowed landscape,” which even came with all those golf course caretakers doing all the work. We could enlarge the already generous windows facing the view to capture more of it. It was the view that sold us.

So we made an offer.

After much back and forth with the city about our renovation plans (an ordeal that could be a story in itself), we rented a house nearby to live in while our new home was undergoing its transformation.

**Left:** A large Arteriors “Tilda” chandelier from Madden-McFarland dominates the dining area. Vintage walnut midcentury-modern Danish chairs surround the Saarinen tulip table. **Right**: A small hallway serves as a gallery for several pieces of art. **Inset**: The custom wrought-iron handrail was crafted by Kansas City Metalworks and leather wrapped by Red Hare Leather.

I had planned a four-month renovation, which ran smack dab into the pandemic, so it stretched on for 11 months. Everything was delayed, including our contractor who was busy with other projects. The weather didn’t cooperate either. After they dug the foundation for the addition, it rained for a month, almost daily, and the foundation hole resembled the swimming pool the city wouldn’t let us build.

And all the while, Warren’s health deteriorated.

**Top:** Rather than employing the usual duo of pendant lamps above the island, two rattan-shade plaster lamps were hard-wired into the walnut countertop. **Bottom:** Calacatta Vagli marble forms the countertops, shelves, and backsplash in the kitchen. A Fulgor “Milano” induction pro range is tucked into the island. (BTW, induction cooking is amazing!) Vintage photos of cows are framed above the marble shelf.

He passed away when we were six months into the project. It was just a few weeks after his last walk-through of the project; he was excited by the plans we had made.

I was bereft. My husband was gone; the reason for the move. The renovation was stalled, and I couldn’t deal with it.

**Top:** Art and photographs amassed over the years are featured in a gallery wall in the library. Custom walnut bookshelves are by Steve Gabrault. Onyx wall sconces are from CB2. The yellow leather Roche Bobois chair, walnut desk, and desk chair are all vintage. **Bottom, left**: A view into the library. The antique Chinese Khotan rug is from Knotty Rug. The large, framed photograph is by Tom Parish. Floor lamp and coffee table are vintage finds. **Bottom, right**: An Alexa Hampton-designed polished-nickel quatrefoil pendant hangs above the bathtub in the guest bath. Mirror is vintage.

I look back on that time and call it my annus horribilis—my worst year. Thank God for my friends who came through. A designer friend whipped my contractor into shape, helpful friends packed my rental house when I wasn’t up to the job. I had to move from that house when the lease was up, before the renovation was complete, so friends provided a furnished apartment (free!) until I could move in. And many, many other friends were there, helping me with issues great and small, to get me through.

It was at the end of that year that I finally moved into my new home, marking the beginning of a new chapter in my life. It’s a fine house, one I’m very comfortable in, and I have no plans to move.

Is that God laughing I hear?