Much, much more than a construction project.

How does A 25 year-old patrol cop of modest means manage to tackle a costly and convoluted construction project in the downtown core of St. John's, NL? A question I should have perhaps contemplated before purchasing a piece of Newfoundland history: a question which was nonetheless answered, as the perplexing endeavour came to fruition. The answer is best summarized by the immortal words of the Beatles… "With a little help from my friends."

Harvey Road is a strip of downtown property in St. John's steeped in history, both tragic and proud. The steepsided area has experienced several hundred years of periodic growth and decline and, like many areas of the province, hasn't accomplished any level of sustained stability, until recently.

Structures have burned to the ground on the site more times than most wish to count, but in true Newfoundland style, the refusal to stay down and an unparalleled drive to move forward in the face of adversity has always prevailed. The area continues to be home to some of the most historic properties in North America's oldest city.

When I first took heed of the vacant strip of land in 2002 (last burned in the CLB youth club fire of 1992), I had no idea what profound experiences lay ahead, not only professionally, but personally.

My initial interest in the land was thwarted by my inability to finance a pedal bike, let alone a construction project. A few years later, during the summer of 2005, I sought out the Halifax-based owner of a small portion of the land (22 feet wide to be exact) and convinced my banker it was a sound investment. I became the proud owner of 700 square feet of bedrock on one of the busiest blocks in St. John's. The easy part was done.

I had no idea that city staff would require me to obtain detailed plans which included sprinkler design, fire alarm layout, accessibility details, fire code conformity, engineering details and more.

And I soon learned the design of the building has to conform to the new heritage legislation-a strict city bylaw requiring builders in the downtown core to ensure the design meets specific historic details.

In the summer of 2005, I consulted with a very close childhood friend who had coincidentally just graduated from Dalhousie University with a master's degree in architecture. This particular credential, although clearly useful, was the least of his qualities. Having grown up with Chris Woodford since kindergarten, I had always envied his tremendous artistic capacity, coupled with a rare blend of intellect and common sense.

Affectionately known as "Woodford," he dove into the project with intensity and enthusiasm, providing me with a level of insight that was totally beyond what I had considered. After several months of research and systematic city meetings, he pushed past the boundaries and limits of city staff to produce a set of plans that not only maximized every potential square inch of the small space, but set a St. John's building precedent when the plans were finally approved-for his final design comprised five storeys in a maximum four-storey zone.

The rear of the building faced another busy St. John's street-Long's Hill-and would be a drive-in garage. The main level on Harvey Road would be commercial space with an executive style condo spread over three upper levels. Two bedrooms and an ensuite would make up the lower. The upper portion would house an open concept kitchen and dining area, highlighted by 18-foot ceilings that would reach to a mezzanine living area-all with an unobstructed view of the magnificent St. John's Harbour and the Atlantic Ocean.

This phase brought us to Christmas 2006, a month that would lay the foundation for the rest of my life. The Harvey Road project was intended to be a bachelor's paradise-until a close friend of my younger brother entered the picture.

Lisa Stanley was a second-year medical student at Memorial University who captivated me from day one. Her glowing smile and deep brown hair contrasting with a flawless fair complexion got my interest, but her knack of facetiously challenging the verbal rhetoric that often flowed from my mouth was the hook. My father always said: "When you know, you just know." It was sound advice.

Winter 2006 finally saw concrete poured on Harvey Road, an exciting stage, but only the beginning of a  tough period. Financial realities demanded that I act as my own general contractor and pinch every penny. Construction was slow, hindered by my own learning curve and attempts to keep costs at a minimum. This was a stressful period, eased largely by the comfort of a developing relationship with Lisa, who was always supportive and supplied the voice of reason.

In addition, I had the unwavering help from one of the finest finishing carpenters I had ever known-my father, Robert Smyth. Self-taught and meticulous, with a strong work ethic, Dad was there every step of the way, providing not only carpentry services, but philosophical advice as well.

The property wouldn't be shelled in until fall 2006. This stage was a busy time with a lot of friends and family sacrificing personal time to lend a helping hand, often in my absence. Lisa was also displaying yet another charismatic trait-a willingness to get downright dirty in hands-on work.

The commercial space was completed and leased for December 1, 2006 and the city allowed an exception by providing an occupancy permit for that level. The lease eased some of the financial strain and allowed the project to move forward.

This once again brought me back to my favourite time of year, Christmas. I took a deep breath, wiped the sweat from my brow, and sought blessing from Lisa's father for his daughter's hand in marriage. On December 15, 2006, Lisa Stanley accepted my proposal under the Christmas tree on the St. John's waterfront. The construction on Harvey Road temporarily slipped to the bottom of my priority list.

The winter and spring of 2007 would see the final stages of the residential levels. My father largely oversaw the finishing stage. St. John's is full of structures hundreds of years old, some which were being demolished to make room for more modern buildings, so much of the lumber used on the Harvey Road site included large timbers of BC fir shipped to the province generations ago. Battered and beaten, their original beauty was restored after countless hours with sanders, planers and sandblasters.

The staircase leading to the mezzanine level was pieced together by dad after hours of ripping and sanding 22-foot fir planks from the building that once housed the venerable Standard Manufacturing Company, located in the east end of downtown St. John's. Many of Harvey Road's posts and beams would remain exposed, displaying thesir long history and unique character, now given a second chance at life in the new building.

The use of the recycled lumber, although laborious, allowed for considerable savings while providing a distinct level of character and comfort. The total cost of materials for the stairs and railings was less than $500; however, my father's tireless efforts are impossible to appraise.

The last phase was started in the spring of 2007. The kitchen, every inch again designed by Woodford, was built from scratch using milled Newfoundland pine from a local manufacturer. Guided by his methodical resolve, my father meticulously constructed the Shaker style cabinetry. The hammered copper bar sink, oil rubbed bronze faucets and cabinet hardware were compliments of endless e-bay enquires and bidding wars. The bar top was built from the same BC fur planks used to make the stairs, finished with an ebony stain to compliment the cabinets. The light countertops were built utilizing marble tile and provided a complimentary contrast to the deep stain on the cabinets. The space would be the focal point of entertaining; the peninsula and island coupled with the pendant lighting that extended from the 18-foot ceilings, provided a sense of intimacy.

The space was now home, and the determined efforts of those closest to me could be seen in the detail.

Lisa and I were happily married during a blizzard on December 28, 2007. To this day, I am unsure if the construction period taught me more about property development or matters of life, love and friendship. I know for certain which lessons will never be forgotten.