Step inside Fargo’s historic 'JFK House,' and you’ll find more than just a home—you’ll uncover a living testament to a century of stories, secrets, and even a brush with presidential history. But here’s where it gets fascinating: Laiken Gabbert, the current owner, admits history was her worst subject in school. ‘I’m horrible at memorizing dates and names!’ she laughs, leaning casually against her dining room table. Yet, this very house—now on the market—has turned her into its most passionate storyteller.
The dining room itself feels like a museum exhibit, with historic photographs lining the walls and architectural plans tucked into a corner cabinet. The air seems to whisper tales of Fargo’s past, while the warmth of a roaring fireplace and the aroma of freshly baked chocolate chip cookies make this 6,284-square-foot mansion feel surprisingly intimate. And this is the part most people miss: Gabbert, despite her school struggles, has become the guardian of a home that’s not just historic—it’s a piece of Fargo’s soul.
Built in 1916 for Dr. Nils Tronnes, a Norwegian-born surgeon, the house at 1119 Broadway North is more than a residence; it’s a monument to ambition. Tronnes was among the first surgeons in Fargo and a key figure in establishing St. Luke’s Hospital (now Sanford Health) during a time when medical care was scarce. The house itself reflects his vision, with center-cut lumber, custom light fixtures, and details that have endured over a century. But here’s the controversial part: while the house is a marvel of craftsmanship, it also stands as a reminder of a time when medical care was a privilege, not a right. What does this say about the progress we’ve made—or haven’t made—since then?
The house’s most famous moment came in 1960 when John F. Kennedy visited during a political rally with Quentin Burdick. A now-iconic photo captures Kennedy walking the grounds, the Tronnes house looming in the background. But here’s the question: Why do we romanticize these fleeting moments of history? Does a presidential visit truly define a home’s legacy, or is it the everyday lives of its inhabitants that matter most?
Gabbert, raised on a North Dakota farm, understands that buildings carry secrets. ‘I loved that you could find something in a drawer from 100 years ago,’ she says. After 15 years in California, she sought a home with character—and found it here. She’s meticulously preserved the house’s history, from replacing over 100 missing chandelier crystals to safeguarding its original blueprints. But here’s where it gets emotional: Gabbert isn’t just selling a house; she’s looking for a steward, someone who will cherish its stories as much as she does.
The home, listed at $1,395,000, is a blend of old and new: a laundry chute from the early 1900s coexists with a third-floor media room, and modern updates sit alongside preserved newspaper clippings and letters. Gabbert’s favorite spot? The living room, where the fireplace serves as the heart of the house. ‘Just think what this house has seen,’ she says, imagining the Tronnes family gathered here a century ago. And this is the part that lingers: History isn’t just in textbooks—it’s in the hands of people like Gabbert, who breathe life into the past.
So, why sell? Gabbert, a seasoned traveler with 55 countries under her belt, initially considered selling to explore more. But now, her plans are fluid. ‘I’m in no hurry,’ she says. Here’s the thought-provoking question for you: In a world that often prioritizes the new over the old, what does it mean to preserve a piece of history? Is it a duty, a privilege, or something more? Gabbert’s journey with the JFK House challenges us to think deeply about the stories we inherit—and the ones we leave behind.
