No wood, but ask her about the hall in Hollis.

January 9, 2024

by Katie Hoagland

10 Moderation Street AKA the hall in Hollis

We’d been driving by for almost 10 years, wondering and dreaming.

Lee received a phone call from a former employee, West. He was standing in a warehouse full of timbers and boards, owned by a local legend in the salvage business. Did Lee want to buy any wood?

No….but ask her about the hall in Hollis.

This began a five month journey to make this building our own. She was interested in selling the building and we were invited to climb through one of the broken first floor windows to take a look around. We quickly called my brother to watch our three young children so we could run there as soon as possible. Years of driving by wondering what was inside. Many times driving our kids to day care and noticing the exterior slowly deteriorate; a window sliding down here, a tree growing into the foundation there. We drove the seven minutes from our home, and arrived giddy with excitement to finally see the inside.

Carefully climbing through a window with a pane of glass missing, we entered into a kitchen of sorts with 14’ high ceilings, several ancient appliances, layers of peeling linoleum floor, and gorgeous built-in cabinets, glowing a warm honey brown in the spring light. We push open a door and step into what can only be described as a time capsule.

An enormous room with no posts or obstructions, walls and ceiling covered in pressed tin painted a light-bright sea foam green and white, and there at the far end: A STAGE!

Lee thinking “Is this real?”

On the stage there is a hand painted backdrop still hanging, as if one day the show eneded and everyone just left. Lee pointed out a small sash like curtain spanning the top of the stage painted in the trompe-l'œil style, made to look three dimensional. Old theater equipment, like wooden reels and pulleys for moving curtains, hanging in wait for the next show. The soft wood floor boards of the stage worn from years of performances. It was so, so fun to stand in the space and imagine all that had happened there over the years. We later found out from the Buxton-Hollis Historical Society that the building had been used for traveling performers, musicians, theater troops, silent movie viewings, Hollis High School graduations, and other events throughout the years. There are two very dusty and out of tune pianos. The hardwood “dance” floor, probably maple, is dusty and there is a big pile of timbers and boards being stored there, however we could see and feel it was (and is) right as rain.

Exploring the backstage area we are tickled to find loads of graffiti dating back into the early 1900’s. So and so was here. So and so loves so and so. Things haven’t changed much and yet they are so different. We also find the men’s and women’s restrooms: small rooms hanging off the back of the building with benches each carved with two convenient airy holes to the outside ground below.

Men’s Room

It seems impossibly cool already and yet we haven’t seen it all.

We poke into a small closet sized room which was once the box office. a small wood framed window slides easily up and down. Lee loves this little detail and notes that for the window to still be perfectly functional, shows the building hasn’t swelled or bucked too much over the years. While the ticket window is the cutest thing I’ve seen in a building in ages, the graffiti in the little box office is mind blowing. There are illustrations, signatures and dates from acts who had performed there, limericks and poems bashing the area for being a place where fun goes to die. I can’t wait to take a closer look, document, and do a little research into what we were seeing.

Moving from the box office, we headed through a set of double doors into the entry and take a side door to the stairs that wind up into the second floor. The stairs feel safe, solid, and without hesitation we climb up. The walls in the stairway are raw, unpainted plaster and flecks of sand sparkle in the sunlight. At the top landing there is a large window and looking out, through the about to pop but still naked spring trees, we can see the Saco River flowing by. There is a heavy wood door with a wooden peep hole and a bell engraved with the word “turn”. I turn the bell handle and a loud BRINNNNGGGGG sounds into the huge space. It’s a little spooky.

What is not spooky is the incredible room we enter into. Yes, there is so much chipping and peeling paint, a small amount of graffiti, ample evidence that some furry friends have been calling this place home, as well as some local teens anytime between 1990 and 2024 using the space as a secret hang zone. The room is bright and sun pours in through the four enormous windows. The room appears to have been used as a gathering space, with light fixtures wired in such a way that we could imagine where the long table was were folks gathered. There is a sink, cupboard, two small foldable counters, and a small cook top. I immediately envision the space filled with friends and neighbors, sharing food, skills, and time. This building is meant to have people in it.

There are two doors at the north side of the room. One brings us into a storage area of sorts filled with big closets, a strange bathroom we guess installed in the 70’s or so, and an intricate system of wires and wooden pulleys for controlling curtains in the large back room of the second floor.

The other door brings us into another big room, covered in pressed tin painted the same hues as the downstairs. The room has a four foot wide or so rise running around the perimeter. The space feels very performative. Also, it is wall to wall carpeted in a deep maroon. Yikes. The sensory evidence of furry friends is strong. There are handsome wood shutters hanging on either side of each enormous window. We open all the shutters and light pours in. It is magical. The large, gorgeous glass light fixtures hang elegantly from the tin ceiling. The paint in the room is chipping and peeling, but not as badly as the front room of the upstairs. We notice a beefy fire escape from a window on the north wall of the room. There are some open and cracked windows, but they are mostly in decent shape.

Holy moly. It is like a dream. We walk back through the building taking pictures and laughing in amazement. Could this be ours? Are we the right people to bring this building back?

We crawled back out the window we entered through, walked the outside perimeter of the building, and got into the car. Yes. We are the right people. Call her right away and tell her we’d like to make an offer.

It would take a month and many sleepless nights to get back in touch with the building’s owner. But that is a story for another time.

ps. really hope we are the right people!