FARGO — Step through the front door of the grand old house on Fargo’s Eighth Street South and it’s easy to imagine it’s 1925.

Close your eyes and you can almost hear soft music drifting from a Victrola in the parlor, the faint scratch of the record barely audible beneath the murmur of polite conversation as Fargo’s movers and shakers discuss decisions that would shape the city’s future.

As guests cross the grand foyer toward the dining room, a giant, hand-woven rug softens the creak of the century-old oak floors. Once seated at the table, the head of the house presses a small button to summon the staff for another course.

Open your eyes again, and it’s today. The same call button still exists — a charming relic of another time. (Think the Dowager Countess ringing the kitchen staff on

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