The Gray-Haired Golden Rule - Response to TV Show Viewers: Post 67

Response to TV Show Viewers: Post 1 - January 23, 2026

Response to TV Show Viewers: Post 66 - June 24, 2026

The start of this blog in 2011, aimed for something of a how-to tone, sharing advice and writing the steps to help aspiring DIYers progress through their own rehabs. Yet with the reflective storytelling, it’s understandable how some may consider it memoirish or a hybrid how-to/memoir. And this whole series is closer to the second of the two genres.

This post is more than a response to questions or comments. It’s backstory worth sharing as I conclude with cheerful memories making Restoring Charleston.

 

The Golden Rule is a universal beacon for civility: treat others the way you want to be treated. The Gray-Haired Golden Rule, is this guidance with a twist: treat seniors as you’d want someone to treat your own grandparents. And if you don’t have solid relationships with your elders, Lord watch out for the silver headed nearby.

In 1994, I moved into a Cincinnati apartment managed by a widow who was spread thin and beginning to fray. Oversights and reasonable lapses led tenants of this twenty-unit building to move out. However, I stayed. And by year’s end, it was down to just us in this three-story brick in Hyde Park.

Rather than virtuousness, my hanging in there was rooted in my grandparents and this landlady reminding me of them. Perhaps it was because her life had mirrored theirs—the Great Depression, Pearl Harbor leading to WWII, followed by the post-war boom, space race, and the seventies. For the lack of a better way of describing it, what loomed was some hazy obligation to help her as I would want someone to be there for my own elderly relatives.

After becoming disoriented out and about in the Queen City, this childless woman found herself at The Christ Hospital. She had no family in the area, and it had taken me two weeks to figure out where she was. Due to cautionary abundance wrapped in legal reasons beyond me, TCH staff was obligated to detain her.

It eventually became clearer how this would culminate in her becoming a ward of the state, whatever that may have meant. After I tiptoed around this news, she revealed how she was well aware. “I know what they’re saying, young man,” was her reply.   

Mrs. Drollinger never said my name, and young man registered with my ears like an accepted nickname that she used at her convenience.

She understood the future she might be faced with but wasn’t having it. Even though it appeared as if her fate was sealed, she then set me straight as she grabbed a phone and opened up the yellow pages. “Where there’s a will there’s a way,” she said before adding, “And I’m getting out of here.”

Then against some tall odds this detainee proved the hospital know-it-alls wrong and found a way to be discharged.

Five years later, after buying a condemned house that I was determined to rehabilitate, inspiration was drawn from this triumphant pathfinder from my past. And when construction authorities explained how bringing on a full-time GC was paramount, her words echoed in my head. When some said the smoke smell was unconquerable, I remembered her resolve. When the twelve-month schedule was deemed inadequate, I reminded myself that “where there’s a will there’s a way.”

And just like how it worked out with the hospital forecasters, the construction expert’s pre-determinations were sidestepped.

What would eventually inspire me to find a way of reconnecting her with distant family living in Oklahoma, was an oven fire in her apartment. My first attempts to put it out with my pintsized extinguisher didn’t work and the 9-11 operator dispatched the emergency brigade. Then, after persuading this septuagenarian to step outside, the army of responders flooded Linshaw Court as we walked out the front entrance.  

Although the flames had been snuffed out—the third time had been the charm for my extinguisher—they’d come prepared for the worst. Besides the hook and ladder truck, there was the fire chief, an ambulance, and a couple other red vehicles.

The building’s owner was genuinely amazed. And naturally, passively, she simply asked to herself more than me, yet aloud, “Is all this for me?”    

 

We were just into the first summer week of 2016 and I was filled with intense excitement, nervousness, and a healthy anxiety that would keep me necessarily focused until the circumstances wrapped in August. The production phase, the process of filming the projects for Restoring Charleston, had begun in the small southern town of St. George.

The Appleby House sat on the edge of town and had been vacant for fifty years before being condemned by local building officials. At least, that’s what I’d been told and everything pointed to this being true. Following an invitation to have a look, I took a chance and became the owner. The windows and doors were still partially boarded up, and I was likely a schoolboy the last time the wood siding or trim had been painted.

Appleby - Before

After thorough reviews, I felt at ease about structural integrity. It looked decidedly worse than it actually was, my type of project house for sure and ideal for a TV rehab.

Built circa 1895, this home had been crafted by skilled tradesmen of its era, surviving over a century of scorching summers and countless hurricanes while racking up more years than anyone still alive. It was laced with artful interior trim, mantels, and doors that were salvageable, with heart pine floors to accompany bead board walls and ceilings.

Occupied by spiders, dead rodents, and one mummified cat, it was a prime candidate for generating Halloween season unease. Although some locals were convinced that this place was inhabited by ghosts, I’d been all through the home, alone multiple times with only a flashlight keeping me company. I felt no creepy vibes nor heard any questionable noises. Nothing had given me serious pause.

In the early days of getting up to speed with the task at hand, producers had been overheard speculating on Appleby as the most challenging rehab effort in the network’s history. This may have been a stretch, but still, it made me feel good, this possibility of being placed atop this unofficial mountaintop.

Coupled with my faith, what allowed me to be worry-free in that moment, was my confidence in the pros mobilizing around me. But being straightforward, fair to myself, I’d taken on more awful with much less help. It was simply a great old home, with palpable potential, and too special to ignore. By way of the pictures I’d taken and emailed, the producers in New York and Los Angeles had fallen for it too.

In this first week, the site was humming with grips and assistants busy setting up cameras and equipment. There were production crews staffed by people from all over the country, along with dozens of local contractors, tradespeople, and an interior design team. A production trailer had landed in a back corner of this parcel, strategically placed to be out of site throughout filming. A large storage container for equipment, supplies, fixtures, and materials was behind the office box. Dumpsters, work trucks, and trailers filled the fringes of our lot. The planted cotton field directly behind us was off-limits, but vehicles had spilled over into the vacant area across the street. Icing on this cake was an air-conditioned restroom trailer—one side for women, the other for men—tucked within an enormous cluster of towering azaleas. In three decades, I had no memory of any jobsite perk topping this.

In addition, were the two other houses on the opposite side of town. This St. Geo trio had been acquired to revive this summer, yet we were only rehabbing and filming two of these three simultaneously. Without a doubt, it would be my greatest professional challenge yet. The third home had been placed on the back burner. Along with apologies, were network assurances of them returning next year to be part of its rebirth.

This bustling scene was radically different from my first pig’s ears in the early years of the new millennium. Suddenly, from some dusty corner of my mind, a question leaked out, “Is all this for me?”

More than a case of me hearing voices, it was a spewed memory in the form of a rhetorical question. Insinuations of unworthiness were absent here, with me willing to believe that travels on the road to this point had made me deserving.

Then this internal monologue was interrupted. The sound of cheerleaders practicing on the other side of the street busted through the usual cacophony of jobsite activity—barking and banter, tools banging, equipment revving. These peppy teenagers were likely hoping to witness some filming or perhaps even get captured on camera.

The atmosphere was circus-like.

“Is all this for me?” Those were the words spoken by my landlady years back as we emerged from the smoke-filled building as vehicles of the rescue fleet took positions in front of our near-empty building.

Now, it was as if she was pridefully haunting me, like a fifth grandparent.

Mrs. Drollinger had been amazed then, just as I was in that moment looking over the energized scene. It was radically unlike my history of solitude on desolate house projects in my rearview, years of long days spent alone, thinking things through by myself. I knew that with all the support, the upcoming months would be comparably different than those early unwanted home restorations; teams and crews tackling the lion’s shares of the work as production assistants brought me coffee, offered water, or took my lunch order each day in between direction and questions with cameras recording.

Appleby - After

I was filled with awe and appreciation, imagining five satisfied faces sitting in the bleachers of heaven, giving me an extra reason to smile as I put forth my best efforts to deliver for producers.

Was all that for me?

My people would answer yes.

Response to TV Show Viewers: Post 68 - Coming Soon

Queries Which Deserve Decent Answers - Response to TV Show Viewers: Post 66

Response to TV Show Viewers: Post 1 - January 23, 2026

Response to TV Show Viewers: Post 65 - June 22, 2026

It’s understandable for people to watch the show and then send notes with questions or pointed remarks:

“If you’re a historic restoration expert, then why would you do a, b, and c instead of x, y, and z?”

I can easily follow that sort of head scratching.  

“Why is the show called American Rehab Charleston instead of ‘American Rehab Summerville?’ Don’t you like Summerville? We think it’s wonderful. What’s your problem?”

“Why is the second one Restoring Charleston? St. George ain’t Charleston.”

That feedback also tracks.

I can apologize for the decisions, any confusion or discontent these choices have caused. I don’t have any hesitations over explaining how I’m not an expert as they’ve read, as I’m described throughout both series. I’ve never said that about myself nor did I talk this over with producers. Rather than calculated deception though, I think some on the production side see me in a more glorified posture than I deserve.

Also, even though I can try to shed some light on program creators using Charleston in the titles, it oftentimes seems to ring hollow, feel like it’s not enough, perhaps due to me not being part of the verdicts on show naming.

People have invested a lot of time watching the shows, sometimes all fourteen episodes more than once. Then they’ve found a way to reach out to me, thought out what they wanted to say or ask, and hit send. Ignoring them may seem optional, but I’m inclined to do something when I can. Now, I haven’t typically stepped in when people have vented online, but I’ve read enough comments to gauge opinions, and diverted those responses to this series.

In 2014, after committing to a four-episode series about my house project in Summerville, the production company downgraded this opportunity to one pilot episode with a chance for a full season. To the surprise of many, we were granted the unexpected, along with a two-episode bonus. Even more shocking, was that ARC rated well enough for us to earn a chance to keep going, to renovate three more houses with film crews in 2016.      

Although an actual series being shown occasionally on DIY and a verbal agreement to do more was wonderful, it had not been enough to secure the financing I needed to buy three houses in Charleston. Perhaps my appeals to producers for necessary steps went unrealized because it was the end of the year, the holiday season, and decision makers in New York were focused on more important projects.  

Without a valid written commitment, or perhaps a letter of intent, financing for the three houses on the historic peninsula, what it seemed like everyone, including me, really wanted, were out of my financial reach. Even though I was willing to take chances that hinged on over-the-phone directives, bank officials had boxes that needed checked, and written specifics was early in the approval process.

Their preliminary questions were basic:

“What if the producers don’t actually come back?”

“What if they decide not to do all three houses?”

“What if they put you off for a year, like they did before?”

This seven-figure financing, my efforts to form the short-term partnership with lenders, was another test and I did not score high marks. Getting written details from the networks was not an outlandish request. And yet I couldn’t get that done. Not only did my willingness to move forward without a contract make the arrangement appear questionable, but it also made my professional judgement suspect.   

And still, my faith more than solid business acumen, allowed me to roll the dice and tap into my own reserves.

After unsuccessful property searching in Summerville, I eventually found three of my sorts of houses—vacant/condemned/seemingly unwanted—in St. George, pig’s ears I could buy with a combination of cash and a negotiated agreement with one of the groups of sellers. Diann had seen the lights, cameras, and activity, and she was in my corner, unwavering. She wasn’t pushing me on yet was staunchly supportive in this gamble.

But then, bank official’s concerns became a reality: the network cut our episodes from twelve to eight and three houses down to two. Although this was still an amazing blessing, it was unfortunate. Even though I extended my trust to Team Scripps, the financiers had known not to, exemplifying why they were sentries of the safes with the money. It stood to reason, that besides not wanting me to default on loans, they likely were trained to avoid involvement with that sort of mis-stepping    

I hope this post goes further to answer curious questions of some viewers.

I can now see the runway approaching this series’ end. And I’ll be wrapping on a decidedly upbeat note, sharing fond memories of making Restoring Charleston.

Response to TV Show Viewers: Post 67 - June 26, 2026 

Lines in the Sand - Response to TV Show Viewers: Post 65

Response to TV Show Viewers: Post 1 - January 23, 2026

Response to TV Show Viewers: Post 64 - June 19, 2026

Although likely unintentional, HGTV/DIY producers had drawn some lines in the sand when they made Charleston integral within the show title and overinflated their description of me. From a marketing approach it was well aimed. But it other respects it put us down in a hole.   

This demarcating may have just happened seamlessly in early stages. Some producers met me, perhaps leaving with a lukewarm opinion. Then more came to film and create a pilot episode. After not wowing their socks off, it’s likely that most producers were left thinking, “What do these details really matter after all?”  

And schedulers placed us into 11pm and 1am time slots.

Except we did better than anticipated, leading to a full season. And by the end of 2015, after ARC grabbed attention, a verbal green light for another series had been inadequate for bank officials.

Rather than strictly being a dollars and cents issue, it was more my inability to connect the dots of basic business and secure a legitimate agreement on paper. The network placed a large pie on the table, and there’d been plenty of slices and slivers to satisfy everyone. I saw it but had been incapable of bridging the gaps. And without some sort of written contract, I’d been unable to qualify for the seven-figure financing I needed to secure three houses downtown. And so, I shifted my house hunting further inland.

Summerville thrives nicely without the Holy City. Except for coastal beaches, everything needed is up there in this jurisdiction that spills into all three of the counties that make up Berchador. It’s inhabited by sweet folks, but they’re also proud people. And American Rehab Charleston playing out as if I was down in the more well-known city rather than up in Flower Town in the Pines was disrespectful, hurtful, and another missed opportunity.

If the show had been named “American Rehab Summerville,” it’s likely that more doors would have been opened for us up in this small southern town. But producers had no way of knowing any if this. They didn’t live here, were just visiting for the work assignments, and didn’t have a lot of familiarity. Making it worse, I didn’t leave a strong enough impression for them to bring me into the show naming conversations.

I’m speculating, but it just stands to reason that with the title, and within the series, that I came across to the folks of Summerville as if I was less than pleased or proud to be renovating a house in that town. This wasn’t the case, but who’d believe that after watching the series?

Still, at the start of 2016, I was hopefully oblivious to these factors as I began beating the bushes for three more pig’s ears in Summerville.       

Along with traditional real estate searches, online websites, and scouting neighborhoods in search of For Sale by Owner signs in front yards, I spoke with the president of the Summerville Preservation Society, a local real estate mogul, and a neighbor of the American Rehab House. Although the investor was willing to let us renovate some of his properties for the show, he seemed genuinely indifferent about selling me a few of his vacant homes.

The thing is, even though that could have worked, I had no interest in being the face of a show where my status was overinflated, bragging about working in Charleston while actually being in Summerville, and in a position where I’d be claiming to own a house that wasn’t actually mine. This would have me even further from something organic and authentic.

I had a finite amount of savings to work with and was swinging and missing in Summerville. Eventually, with the help of the retired neighbor, I was introduced to the President of the Upper Dorchester Historical Society, and I pivoted my attention to the village of St. George even further away from the region’s epicenter.

Response to TV Show Viewers: Post 66 - June 22, 2026

Unspanned Leadership Gaps - Response to TV Show Viewers: Post 64

Response to TV Show Viewers: Post 1 - January 23, 2026

Response to TV Show Viewers: Post 63 -June 17, 2026

From the start of this TV break, I’d formed an impression that each production phase was operating on a shoestring budget. However, in reality, both shows had been robustly funded. The network had set us up quite nicely.  

It was a me issue front and center.

The running theme that flowed steadily throughout this opportunity was my inability to lead as needed. I suppose, as an excuse, I’ll put forth my reasoning that the programming director in Manhattan was in charge. She should have been. But looking back, I think the production company was in the driver’s seat, or at least they thought they were or wanted to be. And maybe this was some sort of male/female issue between them. Again, ignorance on my part prevails. Perhaps, like they wanted and needed me to be an expert of historic restoration razzle-dazzling Charleston, they also needed me to grab the reigns of this break and hit the ground running much more effectively. In this speculative beacon of guidance role that I never commanded, I seemed to have come up short for them again.

I suppose that my leadership style tends to be more organic, and I sure hope authentic. Rather than walking through a door and trying to start steering a ship like Thor in Avenger’s: Infinity War, I prefer to serve while learning and understanding. Eventually my voice will carry more weight, and if it doesn’t, I’ll make more of an effort to bring out the best in those around me.  

In my mind, and again this might be my ego leaking out, I think I could have grown into that role. But as I saw it, I was unknowingly in need of knowing and understanding more about TV than I did; the process, sequencing, industry terms, and so much more. Or at least finding a way to pick up these things much more quickly.

I found it disrespectful for me to insert myself too much. And I think most of the producers would agree. Once, while trying to suggest a solution to some filming issue, I upset an executive producer who cut me off saying, “Don’t tell me how to produce!” Within her moment of stress, she’d been candid with me, teaching some of what I lacked, shedding light on the dimness I struggled to work within.

From the beginning, I was out of sync. In 2013, it felt as if some producers were excited to work with me, while others were more indifferent. There were those who were ready to start three months of filming in January of 2014, and others more comfortable spreading the process over fifteen months. There was this same discordance in filming the pilot, the wait in between it and the pick-up, and throughout that filming. And then heading into 2016, some of the team really seemed receptive to the measures I laid out, but clearly, others were unmoved.

Along with this polarization, were the quantity of minds and voices weighing in, deserving of consideration. Not only were some taking my points into account, but they were also simultaneously weaving through the views of others with actual television experience, discussions about me, yet without me. And to add even more nuance to this dynamic, these players were often working together over the phone from each coast and flyover locations in between. FaceTime-types of meetings were less common then and although I was sometimes on a conference call speaking with multiple people, I didn’t always know who was sitting in until someone introduced themselves before their question or comment. So, I didn’t actually know who was in the loop and who wasn’t. I thought they were all comparing notes, but it would have been a lot to keep up with. And adding to this, I was one person and one show amongst dozens.  

There was consensus in my takes on the different steps I felt strongly about. But it may not have been resonating as necessarily with the right voices. There was compromising, but I wasn’t negotiating. I wasn’t suggesting twelve things as a setup to get the six we actually had to have. I’d laid out the key things we needed, and wiggle room was minimal. Without the right resolutions and results, we’d be filming rehabs in 2016 on fumes. I never said it so bluntly because I wanted us all to succeed. Pessimism may be in my nature, but I didn’t want to show these cards. And hindsight provides clarity.

The bottom line is. I was unable to adequately and clearly make my points as truly needed, in a way that resonated and moved the needle. They could say I didn’t try hard enough, and they would not be wrong. But being straightforward and even more honest with myself and as I write, I realize that I just didn’t know how to do it. And that’s on me, further evidence of what I’ve said before in previous posts of this series. I did not meet this moment.  

Response to TV Show Viewers: Post 65 - June 22, 2026

Contractual Limitations with Large Implications - Response to TV Show Viewers: Post 63

Response to TV Show Viewers: Post 1 - January 23, 2026

Response to TV Show Viewers: Post 62 - June 15, 2026 

I hope it’s been made clear, that although I’ll admit to having a solid grip on how to renovate a jacked-up house, I’m not one to claim to have the recipe for success. At this point, I’ve lived a lot of my life recognizing it as an adventure that comes with scars in many forms. Rather than a world beater, I understand how I’m stepping into something else, the end of my life’s autumn when it’s time to share and encourage.    

This series began with me answering questions while offering insight into pitfalls to watch for. The intention was to inspire along with educating by way of owning mistakes. I’m not quite done with this progression of responses, but I’m approaching the landing strip that’s surely up ahead past the clouds.

At the end of 2015, I had a renewed chance to do some noteworthy work: renovate three houses in Charleston, South Carolina with film crews documenting the efforts before producing another series telling three stories. Each project would span multiple episodes. These yet-to-be-determined homes would be in rough condition, with me leading the way in bringing each back to life.

Conservative math worked. Buying a house others don’t want often equates to undervalued asking prices. Costs to rehab are inexact, but experience allowed me to remain steadfast. There would be margins that contained indeterminable profit. And the carryover was potentially even greater; more opportunity, a future of interesting projects working with talented people, and also a larger platform to help aspiring DIYers see and better understand how they could take on a left-for-dead house near them, and against the odds, breathe new life into it.

Getting to where I needed to wouldn’t be easy, there were crevasses ahead, and it was my responsibility to bridge these gaps and inspire others to do the things within their reach.

I had savings to invest for earnest money on short term loans but was well short of what this moment called for financially. I needed investors or lenders. This was no shock to my system, nor my wife’s. We each knew this from the day the programming director said, “We need you to buy three more houses for next year.”

When you renovate property that’s condemned, abandoned, or seemingly unwanted, you need a find-a-way, make-it-happen attitude. I’m not sure how else to push through. Faith and optimism equal needed fuel. In renovation, like throughout the construction industry, people tend to shy away from a four-letter word like can’t.  

So even though I knew the assignment was daunting, I’d been conditioned to focus on the ways to think creatively, next steps and greater picture to accomplish the most glaring goal. In my eyes and mind there were clear prerequisites, and it was on me to shed light on these necessities.

Sadly though, I bombed spectacularly, which bled over into the other things I needed.     

First, I’d been unable to break through in convincing producers to make adjustments within the original six episodes, editing that would gain confidence of viewers, but also all the people we needed support from throughout Berchador.

Secondly, the percentage of locals who’d heard of American Rehab Charleston was tiny. Everyone I met had heard of HGTV and knew of a few of their most popular programs. And locally, most had heard of Southern Charm. Even if they’d never seen an episode, they knew the Bravo series was actively tapping into some of the Holy City’s popularity. As much as I tried, I’d been unable to resolve our regional blind spot, something that rippled into the short list of pressing preliminaries.   

Although these were both very important, neither was as significant as my lack of a written agreement with HGTV/DIY, the network pair who’d opened this door for me back in 2013. This was the nagging liability, a lingering headache that had lasted over two years. I could tell a banker that I’d been on TV and they could see the proof on their desktop computer screens. But they needed more. Having family, friends, and neighbors who’d seen the shows, heard of the series with good things to say, would have helped a lot.

And how much would paperwork with my name and theirs helped? Who’s to say? I’ll never really know since I struck out here as well.

Just before filming the pilot episode, I had received paperwork from the production company. And with the help of a local attorney, I sorted through it. The counsellor had no major concerns, describing the document as boiler plate. However, rather than something prepared for home improvement programming, he explained how this document was written for game or dating shows, rather than what we were doing in Summerville, rehabbing a house. However, it was a necessary formality, and the entertainment lawyer gave me a legal nod on signing it.   

But efforts to gain seven figure financing ushered in a need to examine these pages more closely. And it became clear that in order to secure necessary financing, I’d need a valid contract with Scripps or its subsidiary networks.

Response to TV Show Viewers: Post 64 - June 19, 2026

Candid Off-Camera - Response to TV Show Viewers: Post 62

Response to TV Show Viewers: Post 1 - January 23, 2026

Response to TV Show Viewers: Post 61 - June 12, 2026

In some ways, my deficiencies in the world of television were compounding, with the first big mistake from 2013—no network written agreement—now spilling into where I found myself at the end of 2015 after American Rehab Charleston earned us a chance to do more. This hole in my capabilities was like a dark cloud, following, hovering, sometimes sprinkling and other times pouring down rain. My ignorance, my inability to take the right steps left me ill-positioned to focus as needed on my next thing, another weak area for me: effectively making my points clearly understood for producers in other parts of the country.

Even though I’d beefed up my efforts, I came up way short again. Too many of my calls to action went unaddressed. I’m pleased to remember times when my attempts to motivate have hit marks consistently. But not this time. They mostly fell flat, touching down inconsequentially like led balloons. I was hoping folks would dig into what I saw as urgent necessities. But I was unable to adequately stress the win-win-win of my viewpoints, how it was in everyone’s best interests to heartily consider how my input would benefit them big-picture. I was open to counterpoints, compromise or rebuttal leading to other steps that were better than what I felt strongly about. Yet I mainly found myself with good listeners, that were perhaps more inadequately supported and equipped than I imagined.

As I’ve mentioned throughout this series of posts, the producers I worked with were impressive. They were experienced, well-traveled, and talented. I overheard them mentioning household name celebrities, politicians, and entertainers they’d worked with. This was presented mundanely, while they were simultaneously discrete and professional, leaving me holding them in even loftier regard.

Yet being candid, I was surprised with how skittish many in vital positions seemed over the notion that we all could move up and ahead together, something I had wrongly considered more commonly understood than it was. This exemplifies some of my inexperience or perhaps overly wishful thinking. They came across as suspicious that I may be casting some sort of Jedi-mind trickery on them. I’m not sure if this was industry wide, just critical folks I’d been matched up with, or simply me in my own head too much. We would all be missing out, but since it was my big chance, it was on me more substantially.

I needed to rally the Scripps assigned troops and I wasn’t moving the needle. At least not nearly or quick enough. This might be me excusing my own inabilities, trying to sooth ego or conscience, but I began to form an impression that they’d been trained to think more win-lose, as if me and others they were working with needed to benefit measurably less in order for them to achieve worthwhile success.

Since I felt strongly that I knew better than these amazing people, at least in this critical area, this was tough for me to accept and move through. And in this period, I was left feeling powerless, outnumbered or outmatched once again, for some means of inspiring them on the importance to at least think about the key details that would help get us on track and make the most of this opportunity we had been given.

Rightfully so, it was more important to me than it was for them. They didn’t live near in or around Charleston. Their lives, families, and friends were spread throughout other parts of the country. They were going to keep working in TV regardless and I was in no position to help them see how it was in their best interests to get ARC on HGTV in Charleston and be more renovation minded with us all leaning into organic authenticity as a team.        

It’s unnecessary to write this in a way that might make a reader hopeful that I would eventually right this ship since most know it ran aground.

Response to TV Show Viewers: Post 63 - June 17, 2026

House Hunting Made Easier - Response to TV Show Viewers: Post 61

Response to TV Show Viewers: Post 1 - January 23, 2026

Response to TV Show Viewers: Post 60 - June 10, 2026 

At the end of 2015, it may have seemed as if the network and production company were waiting on me to provide them with photos, estimation budgets, site details for production mobilization, and addresses of prospective houses. But in reality, the three of us had preliminary steps that needed immediate attention and action.

When I begin a renovation, I have a step-by-step process that works for me. I knew early on what to do on my own house project, in a lot of ways from Day 1 back in 2000, because I’d been dreaming about the moment for some time and had construction experience to build upon. Although I didn’t go in with history on a condemned house or fire damage, I had enough fundamentals to get my introductory pig’s ear to a point that felt more familiar.

TV rehabbing, and my cliff dive into it, was so different though. I had no background to build on. Other than what I speculated about as a viewer of This Old House and other home improvement types of shows, I was an empty jar. Still, two years had given me what I needed to sort out so much. There were still loads I didn’t know, couldn’t know really, but what I’d figured out, I felt rock solid on, the things I described in my previous post. I wasn’t totally certain, but I felt pretty good about my takes over what the others and I needed to dig into hot and heavy. These were far from an ironclad guarantee to success, but I held some certainty they’d be sufficient to sweep up more audience share, make some wrongs right, and create energy, enthusiasm, and momentum in my tri-county region of the state. In my head and heart, I felt I had some heightened responsibility toward what Scripps had initiated for all three of us—network, production company, and myself—and for us to put forth reasonable efforts focused on what I’d laid out.

On a normal project house, I feel more capable of driving the job as needed. I know what I can do, the work I really enjoy or knock out because I must, and what I’ll need help with. And if I’m unable to find the right skilled people, I’ll manage on my own to inch forward. Sometimes that means breaking a scope into smaller parts with me doing fractions and connecting with others to take on chosen pieces to complete the whole.

Home rehabbing television was different though. I didn’t know people to call on, nor was I qualified to do most of that. I was left to let a big team reach out to others, brainstorm, and tackle their tasks however they did. And although this removal was a good test for me, an exercise in faith, it was choppy. I was unaware of the progress others were making and it wasn’t work I could measure and evaluate visually. I just needed to hope they were chipping away, navigating obstacles along the way as they moved forward to where we’d need to be in the early months of 2016.

Just like it had been in 2013, we were in a holiday season time crunch. On the surface, my urgency to buy three houses suddenly, right then, would be laughable to the crowd of realtors overseeing the Berchador real estate market. However, with a home improvement series under my belt, and the involvement, participation, and quasi-anointment with and by HGTV/DIY, my aspirations came across as reasonable, more understandable. And the sooner people in Manhattan found us some time on HGTV, the easier this searching would become.    

However, just as it had been two years before, I was staring down the barrel of my original oversight of this golden opportunity to renovate my houses for TV: I had no written agreement with Scripps, HGTV, or DIY.

Response to TV Show Viewers: Post 62 - Coming Soon

Teamwork = Savings, Profit, & Ratings - Response to TV Show Viewers: Post 60

Response to TV Show Viewers: Post 1 - January 23, 2026

Response to TV Show Viewers: Post 59 - June 8, 2026

At the end of 2015, I was directed by my main contact at the network to buy three houses for the next year. The program namers had chosen to insert Charleston into the show title, and since the house was in Summerville, thirty miles from the Holy City, this was a precarious move. Far from a widely applicable name, it felt as if the city had been incorporated for reasons mentioned in a previous post.

This possibility added even more to the excitement I’d been through. However, in order for this renewed chance to really pan out, as best as possible for everyone, a collection of key details needed to be tackled while I house hunted.

Now, before I go on, it needs to be made as clear as possible, that I don’t believe I have all the answers. I’m merely giving myself a little credit for picking some things up in 2014 and ’15. When I started all of this in 2013, I knew nothing about TV. This experience was like a big pot of soup with all types of ingredients being dumped in over twenty-four months. My bowl left me with an impression, certain opinions, and basically some rather strong feelings of the most productive way to buy, rehab for producers, and then sell three pig’s ears in Charleston in 2016. I wouldn’t then or now claim to know more than the producers. I’m only writing at this point in time, that based on what I knew then, it would be best for lead players to genuinely consider what I was laying out and then move forward collaboratively.   

Beyond a simple to-do list, we needed an understanding amongst the networks, production companies, and me, as a coalesced unit, so everyone could maximize compensation and high ratings that equated to revenue for Scripps. We all had a ripe opportunity for continued support from network decision makers but had to work together and then deliver. And we needed to act quickly in separate yet concerted ways.

First, appropriate insurance coverage was a must. If something unfortunate happened, responsibility should be spread out, rather than risk assumed and potential damages absorbed by my family and I.

Secondly, the networks and editors would need to clean up American Rehab Charleston and scrub the parts in the six episodes that were short sided or inadequate.

The third detail was bigger. As I saw it, producers needed to also do whatever was necessary to air the series on HGTV, so many more of the people of Berchador could have a look. The Holy City was wildly popular and highly regarded. And to many in and around Charleston, relegation to DIY in lieu of the more prestigious HGTV seemed disrespectful. Many felt that a show commandeering the city’s name deserved better.

In this same bucket was the fact that for two years, 2014 and ’15, producers had told folks across the three counties how episodes would air on HGTV. Technically, producers had made good. We had logged time on the four-letter channel. But it was minimal compared to lesser-known DIY and for these reasons, a lot of people, way too many, felt as if folks here had been duped. This didn’t just reflect poorly on me, but the networks and producers coming back to town to continue on.   

Berchadorians would be more ready and willing to be part of the upcoming projects if the shows were on HGTV as local folks had been told when we were making ARC. Beyond the prestige, for some reason, DIY was not as accessible or even known about in our area, and this relegation impacted necessary trust, understanding, and enthusiasm that prospective tradespeople and contractors would logically have had if they, their families, and/or neighbors had opportunities to enjoy at least one episode or more on HGTV without upgrading to a more expensive TV provider package that included the DIY network.

Unless anticipated or needed reparation measures were taken and implemented, this DIY vs. HGTV slight would cost us in 2016. I was certain that airtime on the more well-known channel would be critical, going a long way to restore eroded faith. And with this, the number of people interested in coming on board would beef back up, and this would ripple to help keep renovation costs in check. In addition, I held hopes that these amends might carry over to my efforts to take ownership of three houses down in Charleston.

A fourth point was about the production company’s need to oversee the budget. In order for this to work out better for them, and also my assumed plans for these houses, they’d have to improve at managing the renovations. They’d need producers on staff with construction management backgrounds, people who knew how to read the contract documents coupled with a solid understanding of building codes and standards. Apathy concerning important things would no longer fly. I wouldn’t have the time nor money to make post-production corrections on three different properties downtown. And each of the chosen homes would need to be completed before producers left town, nothing short of three certificates of occupancy.

Plus, the production company would need to be mindful of safety measures which are non-negotiables in the building industry. Regardless of whether it was for TV or not, producers must commit to safety as top priority for everyone on site, and that completing the work had to be understood as a close second. Finishing on time and without overspending were also paramount, yet not over and above safety and quality work.

Fifth, I would need to do my part. I had to carry out orders to secure the acceptable properties. Then I’d naturally have to continue to be available for the producers, willing and capable of accommodating their schedules over the next twelve months to film and complete any pickups or voiceover work. I’d need to be able to deliver on camera, discuss the work and histories of three houses throughout the film days, keeping them straight in my head, bringing energy and enthusiasm every day.

Sixth, to maximize profit for the investment, not only would the shows need to be fast-tracked, produced and be put on HGTV quickly, but I’d need to maintain patience. Hopefully not two years again, but I had to be prepared to wait until potential buyers had time to see some of the fresh episodes since the shows would not just promote Berchador and Charleston, they’d be showcasing the renovated homes. If the projects were completed properly, then ratings would lead to profit that could be poured back into more properties. And perhaps, if all went well, this would mean more rehabs to be featured the following year.    

And finally, the skilled trades and vendors on site, needed more credit for their efforts, over and beyond contracted compensation. Rather than me getting recognition because I was the homeowner talking on camera, the men and women putting in long hours, sacrificing time from their families, coming in early and working late, deserved more airtime so their talents would be recognized within the episodes. That’s how it had been in the Rehab Addict samples I’d been sent back in 2013, and as I saw it, it was another ingredient for the secret sauce that had been left out of Amer. Rehab Chas. We needed that put back in. And this commitment should be understood fully, documented, and signed off on. This was not just the right thing to do; it was smart business that would make the shows even better while paying dividends in the form of lower renovation costs.

All of these things needed to happen so everyone was able to make the most of the opportunity. But once again, it came down to me. Even though it was the holidays, I needed to motivate producers to take their needed steps. There were limits to what I could do. And as I saw it, if I was going to be shopping for three houses, those in New York, Minnesota, and eventually Los Angeles as well, could designate some human resources to get started on what was needed. It was too late to put first things first, but we were getting another opportunity to get on track, and I was hoping we’d grab it with three hands.

Just like 2013, there was much that needed done and after I laid out my determined considerations to producers, I turned my attention to my part: finding three houses down on the historic Charleston Peninsula. Not closing just yet. Only house shopping.

Response to TV Show Viewers: Post 58 - Coming Soon 

Going After Three Houses in Charleston - Response to TV Show Viewers: Post 59

Response to TV Show Viewers: Post 1 - January 23, 2026

Response to TV Show Viewers: Post 58 - June 6, 2026

The network certainly had glorious intentions when producers included Charleston in the first show title while describing me as an expert in the restoration of historic homes. This was a good strategy to gain viewers in other parts of the country, and also different parts of the world. Plus, it was an admirable distinction to have placed on me. But it’s made me look like something of a clown—hopefully more so than is deserved—since many know that Summerville is thirty miles from the historic peninsula. This Dorchester County community is beloved, and it would have suited me better to brag about getting to work there, rather than be okay with it seeming as if I was down closer to the harbor. And I should have also found a way to set the dual networks straight, to get them to send a more accurate description of me out into cyber space.

And yet I was incapable, left dealing with this cursed blessing of being misleadingly connected to Charleston. Coupled with this was the added tax of being tagged as a historic home answer-man, with implied expectations that I was a male version of an actual historic restoration mover and shaker Nicole Curtis, who’d just begun to tackle the epitome of a pig’s ear, the Ransom Gillis House in Detroit.

Ransom Gillis House - Detroit

In 2013, people in my life wanted me to go for it, to see what would come of my early back and forth emailing and phone chats with HGTV/DIY. And in the two-year span, the circle grew to include others encouraging me on—producers in New York, Southern California, and Minnesota, along with even more people in Berchador who witnessed in person the action of the test reel, pilot, and series pick-up filming.

After the six-episode season of American Rehab Charleston made it to HGTV and DIY in the fall of 2015, I received the news that another season had been given the go-ahead. And with that, I needed to find three more houses for 2016.

Of all the diverse minds and voices huddled around me, I don’t remember anyone discouraging me from setting my eyes on Charleston. I clearly had a grand opportunity to make my mark—finding, buying, and renovating the three homes in the nationally adored Holy City.

As I described last week, my pig’s ear to silk purse efforts come down to money math. Initial investment, capital improvements, and estimated profit. And when you factor in the TV element, the potential payoff puffs up.

No one can estimate the exact costs to restore. And the impact the show would have on the final value is also a big question mark. But it was easy to see, that if things were done a certain way, sequentially, properly, a strategic, coordinated approach, then it would make sense and everyone could benefit nicely; the risks we’d all taken would produce wins across the board.

Buy-in on a plan to make sure everyone would get what they needed and a little bit more was the next step.

 

Using round percentages averaged together on multiple projects, I felt reasonably comfortable moving ahead. Ballpark numbers generated from thin air is an irresponsible way to approach investing in three houses to renovate and then sell. But things were happening fast and this sort of quick estimating was the starting point before tightening up budget-wise.

Based on past pig’s ears, generally, wishfully, speculatively calculating, I felt good about 30/30/10/30 as an initial working guideline. Thirty percent for a house no one else would take on; what would be seen as another gamble. Thirty on capital improvements. And around ten percent for closing costs to sell. The last remaining plus or minus thirty percent would be profit.

Moving forward in December 2015 began here.  

I had to find the right properties, and we needed a more effective way of managing the renovation budgets for each home. But the leftover percentage would be the biggest unknown.

Response to TV Show Viewers: Post 60 - Coming Soon

TV Home Rehabber Legal Exposures - Response to TV Show Viewers: Post 58

Response to TV Show Viewers: Post 1 - January 23, 2026

Response to TV Show Viewers: Post 57 - Wednesday June 3, 2026

It was clear that working with HGTV/DIY without a written agreement was a bit of a risk. But I felt it was a chance worth taking. It can be compared to a Wizard of Oz metaphor, wanting to see behind the curtain, or like Alice in Wonderland, crawling down into the rabbit hole. There was real curiosity about having a film crew on my project. And there was deep, sincere interest in seeing and feeling what it would be like being in front of the cameras.

In front of the cameras.
Trent Fasnacht
 Restoring Charleston
August 2016

This involvement with producers in New York, LA, and other parts of the country made me feel significant, like I was on the fringe of greater appreciation for my work and efforts renovating my pig’s ears. Plus, I was thankful to have a larger platform to teach people how they could save houses others were overlooking. And when I received a second unexpected email from a production company working with another network, these feelings, this level of excitement, was enhanced even more.

And yet, as much as I tried to apply what I knew, construction and renovation and the way other contractors and I did business, I was finding myself swimming in completely different sorts of waters; the TV and entertainment means and methods and people.

My state issued general contractor’s license was an asset, but it was also the source of what I came to see as untenable legal exposure. Other tradespeople shared this burden with me, but as the homeowner, a “qualified party” and the network described “expert” speaking most for the camera, I was exposed to the greatest level. If someone was injured on my property, I could be named in a lawsuit, even if I wasn’t at fault or around when an accident happened. If the house wasn’t rebuilt per building codes and industry standards, that would be on me also, leading to potential fines or other consequences. The producers were focused on the show, how things would appear on camera. But I was soaking up the bigger picture, on the rehabbing, hard to notice or more extensive issues I’d be left finishing or correcting when they’d all packed up and left town.

Without a written agreement with the networks, or valid contracts with others involved, this situation reached a point of being unrealistic on the side of irresponsible by me. After all, if I’m the celebrated know-it-all, expectations are that I won’t be doing things that are so obviously incorrect. The standard was lofty, and it seemed that I, more than others, was hyper-aware of the disconnect.  

There had been so much I didn’t know about television, and this ignorance led to a lot of speculating on my part, guessing about way too much. And that’s a disconcerting place to be when my family was counting on me to make wise decisions.

Before the holidays of 2015, after the full season of American Rehab Charleston had been released, some relief began to settle in. I thought I was finding my way, figuring out at the least, how to tread water in this unique environment. After being tested steadily for over two years, I was directed to buy three more homes. This felt like a strong indication that I’d reached a noteworthy point, that I’d passed enough of these various assessments. Although these trials weren’t life threatening, like running a medieval gauntlet, with the legal exposure it did seem as if I’d managed to finally make it through the bumpy two-year stretch to arrive at some sort of legitimacy or payoff.    

In December of 2015, I received a large envelope from HGTV. It felt pivotal, like a significant life moment. I went inside and sat down, anticipating that long-awaited documents to lay out clarity were inside the white packet addressed to me.

Would it include anticipated details and specifics?

Was it an invite to New York, a chance to thank decision makers in person?

Maybe it would be a contract, what I was then realizing I’d need to secure financing for three houses on the Charleston Peninsula.

Should I wait for Diann and the kids?

I decided to open it, so I had time to process whatever was inside, and use that new information or insight to start on next things I needed to be doing for producers. Slowly, I pulled out the pages. And rather than series or network pertaining documents, it was a mass generated invitation to subscribe to HGTV Magazine.  

On one hand, I was grateful about being alone. But on the other, I felt embarrassed, deflated, and foolish.

Response to TV Show Viewers: Post 59 - June 6, 2026

Apologies to the Binyas - Response to TV Show Viewers: Post 57

Response to TV Show Viewers: Post 1 - January 23, 2026

Response to TV Show Viewers: Post 56 - June 1, 2026

It feels as if I’m nearing the end of this response series. I think questions have been addressed and background has been provided to answer and help. There are just a few loose ends, views that should not be overlooked or sidestepped, including words of apology to some who have yet to be acknowledged. These may not be obvious to all, but that doesn’t make them any less necessary. And perhaps like my last post, these words may be long overdue.

I was once called an amateur historian. And as with the nickname, Houdini of Homes, I really liked someone pointing out how much I appreciate the stories and events of the past. More than an interesting subject matter to read about or discuss, I’ve grown to fully attempt to consider how the events and periods of history have impacted how, why, and where my project houses were built. Even though others might not concern themselves with these sorts of details, seeing them as trivial, I think this mindfulness is just part of what I do and how I do it. It allows me, at least as I see things, to do a better job making the most I have to work with and turning my pig’s ears into silk purses.

Berchador reveres those who grew up here and have remained to live, work, and raise their own families in this tri-county region of the Palmetto State. I think this is common in other parts, but here, because of its unique history, it’s notably different. For example, the Gullah Geechee call natives binyas—people who’ve been here. And people like me are described as comyas, since I’ve come here from somewhere else. And not being from the South, and even though I’m a Midwesterner, I’m also a Yankee, which I had to learn was more than a joke but is actually a sharply pointed pejorative to keep folks like us in our place.

One of the factors that makes this part of the world so special is its deeply rooted history of not agreeing with folks in other parts of the country. In the eighteenth century, the South Carolina Royalists fought with Britain, against the fellow colonists. These folks remained loyal to King George III. In the nineteenth century, the state leaders were the first to secede from the union. And in the twentieth century, they were defiant over segregation and miscegenation.

Most recently, June 24, 2010, the Charleston RiverDogs held Go Back to Ohio Night. This promotional event echoed chants shouted by locals, binyas whose patience for transplanted buckeyes has grown thin. Along with the rallying cries, select natives wear anti-Ohioian t-shirts, drive cars with likeminded bumper stickers, and one fed up creator launched a website dedicated to this animosity.     

As I’ve described in previous posts, I believe an HGTV/DIY show with Charleston in the title would have been better received in Berchador had the houses actually been down in the Holy City. But improving chances even more would have been a home owning renovator, or couple, born and raised right here in the tri-county area. Instead, producers and network executives were left doing the best they could with me, a comya Yankee Ohioan. So, if you’re like me, thinking someone from here would have been a better choice to be in my place on American Rehab Charleston and Restoring Charleston, I understand and you’re probably right.

It would have been helpful had I realized this back then. However, I was oblivious to long term implications and really wanted to take my shot. And in that way, my unawareness might seem as if I, and also, the networks and producers, were insensitive and disrespectful. With certainty I can write how this was unintended. But I can see how some folks from here may have resented the fact that an outlander like me was given such a big platform to speak about this area.  

In my own defense, many locals were skeptical and apprehensive about working with people from outside of the South. And although I have come to accept these feelings, those unfamiliar with this area just might not get it. I was willing and able to do it, and really wanted the gig, and since I’m familiar with non-southerners, I was less reluctant to talk and think this chance out. And that comfort was the one thing that might have made me more qualified than a born and bred binya.   

Response to TV Show Viewers: Post 58 - Coming Soon