I tore down everything. Plaster, latheing - come to think of it - that was all there was besides three different types of ancient wiring. No wonder it was so cold when the heat went off. The outside air was just an inch or so from the inside of the house at any given time. In the first picture, please take note of the brick firewall. My house and my neighbors' houses are all a scant seven feet apart. My theory is that the brick was there to keep a burning wood frame house from falling on and igniting the surrounding houses. Sounds plausible. As with most of the houses in my area, the 1970's energy crisis brought the first really large fuel bills so the previous owners changed to what passed for energy efficient windows. Naturally, no gaps were filled and the house was still cold. You can see all the empty space around the windows in the second picture.
True to my anal retentive nature, I separated the rubble as I pull it down. If the old fireplace is still in the wall somewhere in the dining room, I'd have kindling for ages. The parlor's proximity to the side of the house enabled me to drop buckets filled with rubble right out the window. That also allowed me to keep the doorway sealed with plastic so the dust wouldn't pollute the house and trigger an asthma attack in my wife. An enormous gas mask kept me alive. To disperse the incredible amount of dust I blew an industrial fan out an open window while I worked. The plaster rubble was packed in small garbage bags to keep the weight down. that helped not piss off the Sanitation men. Latheing was bundled and tied.