Good Old Days revealed

They just don't build 'em like they used to.
We pulled the plaster and lath off this non-load bearing wall,
revealing a creative solution to short lumber.

A decade or so after Jesse James and his gang were chased out of Northfield, somebody built Jennifer's house a couple miles up the Cannon River. Today we demolished a hundred year-old wall, square nails and all . . . and were surprised at what we found under the lath and plaster.

A splice and a butt joint to this
three-piece stud

You may know that last fall our youngest daughter bought a fixer-upper and set up housekeeping in the newer part. She's working two jobs in Northfield so there hasn't been a lot of time left for remodeling the project area. Today we opened a wall that separates the kitchen from the living room. We lugged the bagged detritus out to the big garage, where it will be released in weekly dribs and drabs to the trashman.
Whenever you mention you're planning on removing a wall, you invariably get a stern warning.
"Be sure it isn't a bearing wall," Marcia, mom's cook and helper, thoughtfully cautioned us yesterday.
It was definitely not a bearing wall, a good thing. We didn't actually remove its studs today, but we could just as well have if we had wanted to. Based on today's findings, it appears that eight-foot studs for wallbuilders were in short supply in 1900. The studs were actually a full two inches by four inches thick, not the planed down versions of today.

  There were no building inspectors or codes back then, so workmen, finding themselves with short sticks, were free to splice and sister to their heart's content. We found a few creative ways of lengthening stubby lumber in the kitchen wall -- one solution combined three shorties in an imaginative turn-of-the-century creation to span the distance between floor and ceiling.
We're not criticizing the work of our pioneering forefathers. After all, that wall lasted over a century and probably could have gone for another if some new owner hadn't wanted to get a better view of her guests from the kitchen.
It was actually a fun day, we spent it wearing masks, even though old-style plaster dust isn't as nasty as sheetrock powder. Hundred-year-old dust swirled about, but scooping up, sweeping and vacuuming went pretty well and before you knew it, Jenn had her new Open Concept kitchen. Take that, Property Brothers! Send a camera crew, HGTV!
Stan is back home now, comforted by three Advils, a chicken dinner and a scotch, exhausted but enjoying the satisfactory feeling of a hard day well spent, something too rare these days. As for Jennifer? Hey, it's Friday night!

Open concept kitchen.