Wren’s Nest, historic home of Joel Chandler Harris, freshened up

If the workers who tromped around The Wren’s Nest the last few months have done their jobs, nobody will realize they were there. The before-and-after photos will be mostly unremarkable. The fixes and updates to Joel Chandler Harris’ old home will go totally unnoticed.

Keepers of the “Uncle Remus” author and newsman’s historic West End home spent $183,500 — more than its annual budget — to bring it closer to its turn-of-the-20th-century self. It’s the first time in nearly two decades the house has gotten a good patch and scrub.

Lain Shakespeare, director of the house museum and Harris’ great-great-great-grandson, points to fixes everywhere: wood sunk into fresh cement beneath the house, a handrail installed on a repaired wheelchair ramp, a cartoon visible through a once-dusty frame, resewn furniture, curled wallpaper forced flat.

A historic paint analysis helped them pick a “strong yellowish brown” and a little darker than “moderate brown” for the exterior, as it was in 1884. The new copper drains keep Shakespeare up at night, but authenticity and faith in the neighborhood seemed worth a try, he said, even if thieves target his gutters. (Among the less historically accurate updates: a new security system.)

The Wren’s Nest wasn’t among significant places that fell tragically into disrepair because nobody cared. It became a museum within a few years of Harris’ death in 1908, and remained under control of women who adored the author and his home. They simply had no mind for change, whether it was desegregation or structural preservation.

When the Joel Chandler Harris Association took over in the 1980s, the house museum opened to all, and the most obvious signs of benign neglect were reversed. It got a new roof, a heating and cooling system and paint. Still, it had irregular hours, few visitors and big financial trouble.

When Shakespeare, 23, took over three years ago, he was inexperienced — and previously employed as a swim coach —but could identify “musty” when he saw it.

“My rule is ‘Don’t touch it,’ ” Shakespeare said of the house’s intentionally untouched space, Harris’ bedroom. “I don’t want to be the one that breaks it.”

If anyone would give them money to fix the old house, he thought, it would be a divine mix of wit and luck. He knows as well as anybody that trickster tales, like Br’er Rabbit’s, are universal, and often repeated. He was surprised when the Watson-Brown Foundation in Thomas offered a matching grant to help with the home’s restoration. Shakespeare and the Wren’s Nest staff didn’t argue — they got busy, and got more donors.

Tad Brown, the Watson-Brown Foundation president, said there’s nothing lucky or tricky about it — Harris’ home was a perfect intersection of education, history and Southern culture for the foundation to fulfill its mission.

The toughest decisions were already made: Wren’s Nest leaders’ goals are to return the home to its period of significance — the years when Harris lived there.

“What we were doing was cleaning and repairing, but not removing any of the character,” said Geoffrey Steward, chief executive of International Fine Arts Conservation Studios, which handled everything from furniture repair to canvas floors.

There’s more to be done, said restoration architect Mary Catherine Martin of Stella-Architecture For Historic Structures.

Harris’ home needs better climate control, new electrical systems and more research. What color were the bricks along the foundation? What was the original foundation? The answers might be lost or might be tucked away in old filing cabinets Wren’s Nest staffers are still exploring.

“Preservation,” Martin said, “is something that’s constantly ongoing.”

Even if nobody notices.