“There’s a real fascination in watching
a craftsperson execute a task and solve
a problem,” says Russ, and that, in essence, is the
show’s magic. Early in his television career, Russ,
whose father was a house builder, would occasion-
ally cross paths with a plumber or electrician arriv-
ing to fix something at his home as he was leaving
for work. “I’d come back, and there’d be a bill on
the table, but I really didn’t know what the person
had done while I was away.” That got him thinking:
Maybe there was a show in there somewhere, one
that would document and demystify the home-
renovation process. He convinced his employer,
WGBH, to purchase a run-down Victorian-era
house in a rough part of Boston, gathered up a crew,
and started filming. The camera was heavy and
cumbersome, attached by cables to a production
truck. The format was unclear, except for the idea
of seeing problems solved by people who knew
what they were doing. The series was broadcast lo-
cally at first, but soon went national. As of this year,
This Old House and its 17-year-old companion
show, Ask This Old House, have won 19 Emmy
Awards and been nominated 96 times.
“Working with your hands is deeply
satisfying.” Norm was 29 years old and doing
some carpentry at Russ’s house when Russ asked him
to come work on the Dorchester project. “I remember
thinking, I don’t even know what you do or how TV
gets made,” but he went anyway. “So there I was, up
on a wood pump jack, no rails, with sagging planks,”
Norm says, shaking his head. Safety and sophistica-
tion have increased since that first project, but his take
on the appeal of the show squares with Russ’s, and it’s
something he wants the current generation to under-
stand: “To think through a problem and then use
your hands to achieve the solution...you can stand
back at the end of the day and say, ‘Wow, I did that.’
It’s a message that’s gotten lost in recent years, and I’m
glad the show still broadcasts it strongly.”
“Tailor your investment to your lon-
gevity in the house,” Tom says. If you’re going
to move in five years, get some nice appliances,
paint, and maybe refinish the floors. But if you’re
sticking around, Tom advises homeowners to spend
money on “the stuff you don’t see”—robust fram-
ing, proper flashing, extra insulation, high-efficiency
systems. “Otherwise you’re going to end up having
to deal with gaps in trim, doors that don’t close
properly, rot, drafts, and high utility bills.”
In fact, his devotion to quality is what landed Tom
on the show. He had told Russ, whom he knew from
growing up in the same Boston suburb, about a top-
notch custom cabinetry company out of Maine,
whose product he was installing on one of his jobs.
The year was 1986, and “I’d been telling Russ for
years, ‘No way, I’m never getting in front of one of
your cameras.’ The next thing I know, they’re com-
ing to do a scene about this kitchen, and I’m setting
the room up for Norm to come in and shoot. Then
Russ walks in and pins a microphone on me.” Thirty-
three years later, the microphone is still part of his
world. “Which is fine with me,” says Tom, “because
if I hadn’t been a contractor, I’d have been a teacher,
which is what I get to be on the show.”
“You have to be w illing to let
yourself make mistakes,
then move on. My father
used to say, ‘You can make
mistakes—just don’t make
the same one twice.’ ” —NORM
“ Because of all
this, I’ve met a
NASA astronaut
at Cape Canaveral,
shipped out
on a nuclear
submarine, stood
on the top of the
north tower of
the Golden Gate
Bridge, flown in a
Blue Angel
fighter jet, and
appeared on the
David Letterman
show. Pretty
unbelievable.”
—NORM
48 THISOLDHOUSE.COM SEPTEMBER/OCTOBER 2019 40 YEARS