Vanderbilt Mansion: Gilded Age Opulence in the Hudson Valley

Explore the Vanderbilt Mansion National Historic Site in Hyde Park, New York, with its original furnishings and garden. 

Vanderbilt Mansion National Historic Site

We call it the Hamptons for Brooklynites. The Hudson Valley is known for its charming small towns, cultural attractions, natural beauty — and close proximity to New York City. And since Wally and I were spending a long weekend with my parents in this part of New York state, I was eager to find something we’d all enjoy doing together. 

Wally, Duke and Poppa hang out before their tour.

No trip with my parents is complete without touring at least one historic landmark, and the region has plenty to choose from. Unfortunately, Olana, the Persian-inspired house museum of Frederic Edwin Church — a major figure of the Hudson River School of American landscape painters — was temporarily closed in preparation for an upcoming exhibit, so we opted for the Gilded Age “country house” of another Frederick.

This particular Frederick was the third son of William Henry Vanderbilt and grandson of the self-made multimillionaire, Cornelius “Commodore” Vanderbilt — the man who inspired the term “robber baron” and amassed the family fortune in shipping and railroads. To me, the Vanderbilt family is synonymous with extraordinary wealth, designer jeans and one silver fox, aka Anderson Cooper. So as a “Duke” myself, it seemed only fitting to visit one of Dutchess County’s most notable estates. 

Mema and Poppa are always up for a good time.

The turn-of-the-century mansion turned national historic site is perched on a natural bluff high above the Hudson River on the outskirts of Hyde Park, New York, about six miles north of Poughkeepsie on Route 9, and is a short distance from Springwood, the birthplace and lifelong home of Franklin Delano Roosevelt, the 32nd president of the United States.

The Pavilion, now used as the Visitor’s Center, was constructed in just 60 days. 

The Pavilion

Our first stop after arriving was the Visitor’s Center, a Georgian Colonial structure with a captain’s walk and porticos supported by Doric columns. These columns are actually brick pillars concealed by a material called staff, a mixture of plaster, jute fibers and horsehair. Often described as “counterfeit marble,” staff is cast into molds to resemble carved marble. The same material used to cover the buildings of the 1893 World’s Columbian Exposition in Chicago, Illinois. 

Originally referred to as the Pavilion, it was built in just 66 working days after the Vanderbilts acquired the property in May 1895. It replaced the Langdon Carriage House and served as the living quarters for Frederick and Louise while they oversaw the construction of the main house.

To prevent scandals, single men visiting the property would stay in the Pavilion, while unattached women slept in the nearby mansion.

Inside, Wally and I purchased tickets for the guided tour which were $15 per person, though my dad used his U.S. National Parks annual pass for military veterans to get my mom and him in for free.

The interior is styled like a gentlemen’s sporting lodge, complete with a large central fireplace and walls displaying a collection of mounted trophy heads of animals. It should be noted that Frederick himself didn’t hunt and strictly prohibited hunting on the property. 

The building later served as the guesthouse for male visitors — you couldn’t have single men and single women sleeping under the same roof, after all. 

Before our tour of the historic home, we followed a path leading to the formal gardens. As we crossed the expansive, meticulously manicured lawn in front of the mansion, I noticed my father admiring its orderly nature and could imagine him daydreaming of riding his latest John Deere lawn mower over it.

The marble fountain, depicting a young boy stepping on the head of an unusual-looking dolphin, has been restored.

The Formal Gardens

The gardens and grounds reflect the passion for horticulture shared by the estate’s previous owners. In the early 1800s, Samuel Bard established gardens and a greenhouse filled with native and exotic plants. He imported trees, flowers, herbs and shrubs from across Europe and Asia. The lone ginkgo tree standing in the middle of the south lawn is believed to have been planted by him in 1799. 

Dramatic pergolas form a grand entrance to the gardens.

Bard’s approach was influenced by the principles of picturesque landscape design, which he studied during his time in Edinburgh, Scotland. Incidentally, as a doctor, he also performed a life-saving operation on the newly inaugurated President George Washington in 1789, removing a large and painful tumor from his left thigh.

Each year, volunteers plant around 6,000 annuals in the formal gardens.

After Bard’s death, his son sold the estate to his father’s former business partner, David Hosack, also an accomplished physician and avid horticulturist. Hosack was a professor at the College of Physicians and Surgeons at Columbia University and in 1804 tended to Alexander Hamilton’s fatal injuries after his duel with Aaron Burr. 

This statue of an odalisque, or harem member, was sculpted by Antonio Galli in the mid-19th century. The pool was being repaired when we visited.

Driven by his passion for botany, Hosack established the first formal gardens on the estate and built greenhouses to shelter his exotic plants. He enlisted the expertise of Belgian-born landscape architect André Parmentier who gave the grounds a park-like atmosphere. 

Roads, bridges and lawns were carefully designed to enhance the natural landscape, while large areas were deliberately left in their wild state. Today, much of Parmentier’s original design remains unchanged. 

This saucy statue was known as “Barefoot Kate.”

The four of us entered the formal Italian-style gardens at the northwest corner, where Wally and I left my mom and dad to linger at a table outside the tool house with miscellaneous items available for anyone to take, using an honor system. 

“Barefoot Kate” isn’t really barefoot!

We continued up the gravel path and through the upper terrace gardens, where volunteers from the Frederick William Vanderbilt Garden Association were tending to the annual plants. This nonprofit works closely with the National Park Service to restore the gardens to their 1930s appearance. 

Ahead of us stretched a walkway lined with cherry trees, leading to a brick loggia and reflecting pool. A white marble statue of an odalisque known as “Barefoot Kate,” stood in the central niche, appearing to delicately test the waters with her toe. On closer inspection, you can see she’s actually wearing sandals and isn’t even barefoot. The reflecting pool was closed for maintenance during our visit, but the vignette was still striking. The path continued down a flight of steps to the rose garden with a pavilion overlooking Crum Elbow Creek.

For those who might be curious, crimson roses were Frederick’s favorite and were delivered to his bedroom each morning. Louise preferred yellow roses, which she insisted be placed on the Louis XVI-style table in the drawing room.

Louise particularly loved roses and had part of the garden devoted to them.

Wally is always willing to visit a garden.

Duke sittin’ pretty

Flowering trees with gorgeous shades of pink can be seen in the hills beyond the gardens.

After meandering through the sprawling gardens, we met up with my parents and returned to the Pavilion, where we joined the group of visitors who were waiting in anticipation of meeting our guide. 

The Vanderbilt Mansion is a prime example of Beaux Arts architecture, a style characterized by its grandeur and classical elements, popular in the Gilded Age.

The Country House 

Mark Twain first coined the term “The Gilded Age” when he published his satirical novel The Gilded Age: A Tale of Today in 1873. The term refers to the economic boom between the end of the Civil War in 1865 and the turn of the 20th century. 

The Vanderbilts were certainly emblematic of the era’s excess and grandeur. Frederick and Louise had an impressive real estate portfolio, with residences in Manhattan; Bar Harbor, Maine; Newport, Rhode Island; and a Japanese-inspired retreat on Upper St. Regis Lake in the Adirondacks. Yet, they sought a country retreat in the bucolic Hudson Valley. 

Frederick was a director of 22 railroads, including the New York Central Railroad, the Pittsburgh and Lake Erie Railroad, and the Chicago and North Western Railroad. Despite their substantial wealth, the old-money families of the area, such as the Livingstons and the Beekmans, whose wealth went back at least three generations, labeled Vanderbilts “nouveau riche” and found them to be distasteful and crass.

Most recently, the property they desired belonged to Dorothea Langdon, whose father, John Jacob Astor, purchased it for her and her husband, Walter, in 1840.

A gilt bronze Louis XVI-style revolving dial clock, featuring the Three Graces holding a globe, by Henry Dasson, sits atop a table with a rare deep purple porphyry stone top.

Frederick and Louise bought the property for under $25,000 and hired the prestigious architectural firm of McKim, Mead & White to replace the existing home with a new, larger version. 

Frederick and Louise Vanderbilt. Are you surprised she was the outgoing one?

Charles McKim studied at the École des Beaux-Arts in Paris, and the home’s design reflects many elements of classic Beaux Arts style. Completed in 1898, its exterior is sheathed in Indiana limestone over a steel and concrete structure. Unlike its predecessor, the new house rose a full three stories. 

Meanwhile, New York decorator Ogden Codman and architect Stanford White were tasked with furnishing the 54-room home with $2.25 million worth of museum-quality paintings and tapestries, and incorporating a range of European antiques and finely crafted period reproductions. 

Despite its grandeur, the impressive 45,000-square-foot structure was considered “modest” in comparison to the opulent homes of Frederick’s siblings, such as George Washington Vanderbilt who erected the ostentatious Biltmore in Asheville, North Carolina. 

Completed in 1899, the Hyde Park house featured all the latest innovations: electricity powered by a hydroelectric generator in Crum Elbow Creek — which according to our guide was a full decade before other homes in the town would experience this marvel themselves — central heating from coal-fired furnaces, and indoor plumbing. In 1936 the Otis Elevator Company electrified the existing hand-powered elevator. 

The cost to complete the Vanderbilt Mansion was $660,000, which, adjusted for inflation, is roughly equivalent to $48.65 million today, excluding the furnishings.

A tapestry hanging in the Vanderbilt Mansion, Hector Bids Farewell, from the 17th century, shows the Greek hero of the Trojan War in Renaissance style dress.

While Frederick was described as quiet and introverted, Louise (who went by Lulu) was social and philanthropic and loved to entertain. She frequently hosted lavish parties, galas and balls at the Hyde Park estate, including an annual strawberry and ice cream festival for the community. She would also ride through town on a horse-drawn carriage during Christmastime and deliver presents to the children of Hyde Park. 

And while they entertained friends now and then, for the most part, it was just the two of them — along with loads of servants — about 60 to be exact. Of these, 17 were employed in the house, two in the Pavilion, and 44 on the grounds and farm. Thirteen men cared for the gardens and lawns alone. When guests stayed in the Pavilion, additional cooks and maids were hired from the town of Hyde Park.

The front doors open to the reception hall, where you could sit on the sofa and admire the topless busts that support the mantel over the fireplace.

The Reception Hall

The main floor of the Vanderbilt Mansion was primarily used for entertaining. The first room we entered was the spacious reception hall, designed in an elliptical shape, lending it a sophisticated feel, similar to the Federal-style Oval Office in the White House. The octagonal opening in the ceiling enhances this geometric design, allowing natural light to flood the hall from the skylight above.

The great hall is furnished with a pair of matching tufted sofas, Italian throne chairs, and a mantelpiece bought from Raoul Heilbronner, a German-born art and antiques dealer in Paris. A 16th century tapestry bearing the Medici family crest hangs above it, suggesting that the family’s lineage dated back to the Italian Renaissance. 

When Wally expressed surprise that there were a pair of topless caryatids supporting the mantle, our guide replied that the Victorians didn’t mind nudity — as long as it was done in a classical style.

Guests would meet in the home’s foyer before sitting down for a seven-course dinner in the dining room, a different wine being served with each course. The men and women would then split off to two separate parlors — women to talk about fashion and the like; men to discuss business. They would then convene in the drawing room before heading off to bed at midnight.

A collection of beer steins and a mounted elk's head adorn Frederick Vanderbilt’s cozy den. 

The Study and Den

The first room to the left of the reception hall is Frederick’s study,  mahogany-paneled with vaulted ceilings, a built-in desk and intricately carved wood panels. These architectural elements feature whimsical scenes of animals and cherubs, and were salvaged from a European château before being shipped to Hyde Park. 

Unusual for the time, the study has its own bathroom — so Frederick could go about his business without the staff knowing. 

The attached den has a bookcase holding about 400 volumes, mostly fiction and travel, along with Frederick’s textbooks from Yale. 

Louise disliked the ceiling mural in her sitting room of Aurora and Tithonus by American painter Edward Emerson Simmons, so much she had it painted over. It was restored in 1962.

The Gold Room

Louise’s reception room was a feminine counterpoint to Frederick’s masculine study and was used for serving tea, sherry before dinner and gossip conversation. The coved and gilded plaster ceiling includes a mural by American impressionist painter Edward Simmons titled Aurora and Tithonus and was inspired by the mythological paintings of René-Antoine Houasse at Versailles. Apparently Louise hated it and had it painted over in 1906. Thankfully it was uncovered and restored by the National Park Service in 1962. 

You can imagine the games of whist that were once played at these small tables in the drawing room.

The Drawing Room

To the left is the south foyer, which leads to the drawing room. This room features a pair of marble fireplaces and walnut paneling, and is furnished with a blend of antique Renaissance pieces and Louis XV-style seating. 

The drawing room, designed in the French Renaissance style, was often the center of social activity, where guests would gather for conversation, music and games.

After dinner, the ladies would retreat to the drawing room, where a demitasse of coffee and liqueurs were served. Meanwhile, the men lingered in the dining room for another 30 minutes before joining the women for an evening of cards — often bridge — charades or dancing.

The dining room could seat 18 elite guests.

The Dining Room

The dining room mirrors the scale and size of the drawing room. It includes a table that can be extended to seat 18 guests. Beneath it lies an Isfahan Persian rug, one of the largest in the world, measuring 20 by 40 feet and believed to be over 300 years old. 

Like other rooms in the home, the furniture is a reproduction of the Louis XV period. 

The central mural in the dining room, painted by Edward Emerson Simmons

The coffered and gilded ceiling was salvaged from an Italian palazzo, and installed to fit the space. The central mural was painted by Edward Emerson Simmons, a prominent member of Stanford White’s circle of artist friends. 

The blue and white Ming Dynasty vessel at the base of the grand staircase is estimated to be over 500 years old. When the Vanderbilts lived here, it was used as a planter for a towering 20-foot palm tree.

The Grand Staircase

Roll out the red carpet: The grand staircase, with its sweeping wrought iron balustrade, has 10 steps leading up to a landing along the west wall, followed by another 10 steps to an east-facing landing, then 10 more steps heading west to a third landing, and finally nine steps east to reach the second floor.

The second floor is equally as impressive as the first. The elliptical central gallery is surrounded by a cast-stone balustrade and bedrooms, ranging from modest guest quarters to opulent his-and-hers rooms modeled after the Petit Trianon at Versailles.

This marble sculpture depicts the infant Hercules strangling one of the snakes sent by the goddess Hera to kill him in his cradle.

Niches hold marble sculptures of Eros and Psyche, along with Persephone, Greek goddess of spring and queen of the underworld.

Seven years later, the Vanderbilts enlisted New York architect Whitney Warren to redesign certain elements of the house. Warren removed the coved skylight (technically a laylight) atop the second story and replaced it with a flat frosted glass laylight. The wood balustrade around the opening on the second floor was removed to make way for a cast-stone balustrade and a deep plaster cove, embellished with lattice-work panels and oval medallions with female figures, was added to the ceiling of the second floor, beneath the new laylight.

Louise Vanderbilt’s bedroom and boudoir were designed after Marie Antoinette’s private rooms at Versailles.

One of the guest rooms at the Vanderbilt Mansion

Up on the third floor, of the 19 rooms, 11 belonged to female servants. Each morning floors were cleaned, silverware polished, porches swept, and 50 to 60 bouquets of fresh flowers were arranged throughout the home. The generosity of the Vanderbilts extended in many directions and was often expressed in donations of flowers to local churches and hospitals. 

Compare this simple setup for the servants with the lavish decadence upstairs.

The Servants’ Hall

In an affluent household like this, servants were expected to be as invisible as possible, working behind the scenes to keep everything running smoothly. The staff usually arrived a day before Frederick and Louise to prepare the house. They had their own set of stairs and living spaces and were the first to rise and the last to retire for the night.

For the final part of the tour, our guide led us to the less grand service staircase, where we followed him down to the servants’ quarters. This was a simple and functional space with long corridors running north and south. 

Directly beneath the dining room was the kitchen, where meals were prepared. Food was then sent up to the butler’s pantry on the first floor via a large dumbwaiter before being served in the dining room. 

The kitchen downstairs

The basement also housed the unfussy servants’ lounge, which served as both a dining and sitting room where the staff could spend their leisure time.

Accommodations on this floor were for the male servants and included single rooms for the three butlers, a room for visiting valets, and quarters for the day and night men. 

Additionally, the basement contained four storage rooms, two laundry rooms, an ironing room, a wine cellar and an ice room.

The laylight acts as a focal point of the Vanderbilt Mansion.

From Private Estate to Public Heritage: The Journey of the Vanderbilt Mansion

Everything in the house remained as it was when Frederick passed away on June 29, 1938, at the age of 82. Following his death, the first detailed archival records of the interiors were created. The P.J. Curry Company conducted a thorough inventory of the mansion’s contents, while Rodney McKay Morgan photographed many of the rooms for real estate purposes. The New York Times published photographs of the public rooms in 1940, and an album of snapshots, assembled by Fred and James Traudt that same year, is preserved in the home’s archives.

Since the couple had no children, the mansion was bequeathed to Frederick’s niece, Margaret Louise Van Alen. There was just one catch: She had no intention of living there and tried to sell the estate for $350,000, even reducing the price to $250,000. However, with World War II looming, and a country still recovering from the Great Depression, no one was really in the market for a mansion in Upstate New York.

Fortunately, President Roosevelt persuaded Van Alen to donate 211 acres, along with the mansion and its contents, to the National Park Service. The estate was preserved for the nation, renamed the Vanderbilt Mansion National Historic Site, and in 1940 opened to the public. According to the local Eagle News, 1,338 visitors toured the home within the first 10 days of its opening. 

Fireplaces were a sign of wealth during the Gilded Age — so they were included, even when there was a central heating system installed as well.

The Lowdown 

The Vanderbilt Mansion National Historic Site grounds are open to the public every day of the year, from sunrise to sunset. Tickets and visitor information are available in the Visitor Center, located in the building near the parking lot. 

Admission is $15 per person and children 15 and under are free. The tour is free if you have the National Parks annual pass. 

The hour-long tour was an enjoyable experience and gave us a glimpse into the lives of Frederick and Louise and their mansion. The visit takes you through the first and second floors, as well as the service basement. –Duke

At 45,000 square feet, the Vanderbilts’ holiday home featured 21 fireplaces, 14 bathrooms and 25 bedrooms.

Vanderbilt Mansion National Historic Site

119 Vanderbilt Park Road
Hyde Park, New York 12538

Mansions, Monuments and Museums of the Plaza de Jerónimo Páez in Córdoba

While exploring the historic quarter of Córdoba, Spain, admire the Palacio de los Páez de Castillejo and Casa del Judío before you stop in the archaeological museum.

It’s easy to understand why Córdoba’s entire historic quarter earned its UNESCO World Heritage Site designation in 1985. As Wally and I explored the narrow cobblestone streets of la Judería, the city’s former Jewish quarter, our wanderings led us to charming plazas that opened up to reveal historic homes and restaurants with inviting outdoor seating, where you can sit and relax with the locals. 

Among these squares is Plaza de Jerónimo Páez, named after a descendant of the influential Cordobesan family responsible for the Renaissance-style Palacio de los Páez de Castillejo and the equally historic Casa del Judío. Having endured years of neglect, the plaza was renovated in the 1990s, when the archaeological museum was expanded.

During the city’s era of Roman occupation, known as Corduba at that time, this square served as the entertainment district, boasting one of the largest theaters in the empire. The partial remains of this historic structure are now displayed beneath the modern Archaeological and Ethnological Museum of Córdoba, located next to the atmospheric 16th century Palacio de los Páez de Castillejo.

From palace gardens to private residence to school to museum, the Palacio de los Páez de Castillejo has had a rich history.

Palacio de los Páez de Castillejo

What initially caught our attention as we walked through the square was the gloriously decayed sandstone façade of the Palacio de los Páez de Castillejo family — aptly named, considering their surname, Castillejo, translates to “Little Castle” — which is essentially what this home was.

A pair of life-size marble korai, female figures dressed in long tunics, and a Corinthian capital with acanthus leaves creates a striking vignette.

This lovely Roman mosaic includes motifs such as interlaced Solomon’s knot, vines, pomegranates and crescent-shaped pelta shields.

One of the many beautiful Mudéjar-style niches with scalloped arches within the palace courtyard — and the equally dashing Wally. 

The residence was renovated in the 16th century by Luis Páez de Castillejo and stands on the grounds of what were once the gardens of Ybrahim Ben Nacer Alfaqui’s palace. In 1538, he commissioned the prominent Spanish architect Hernán Ruiz II to oversee the redevelopment of the main courtyard, Renaissance-style façade and sculpted railing of the main staircase. Ruiz II collaborated with his father, Hernán Ruiz the Elder, on the contentious construction of the Capilla Mayor within the Mosque-Cathedral of Córdoba.

The silhouettes on the cloth added a modern art feel to this area of the courtyard.

Besides serving as the Páez de Castillejo residence, the building was used as a school at the end of the 19th century, known as the Polytechnic Academy. And in 1959, it became the Archaeological and Ethnological Museum of Córdoba.

This impressive sculpture, known as the Thoracata of Córdoba and named after a type of Roman battle armor, depicts the massive torso of a hero — possibly Aeneas in his escape from Troy — wearing an intricate breastplate adorned with a pair of griffins.

Its exterior is similar to Ruiz II’s work on the Puerta del Puente, the principal gateway to the Roman Bridge in town, and, like the monument, was designed in the style of a triumphal arch. Among its notable features are a pair of porticos supported by Doric columns, with heroic figures positioned between them. Above the entablature, classical figures hold the family coat of arms. This imagery aimed to immortalize the Páez de Castillejo family as the living embodiment of discipline, loyalty and self-sacrifice to the people of Córdoba. 

This staircase features a sandstone railing designed by Hernán Ruiz II as well as a Roman mosaic depicting rearing horses drawing a chariot.

Be sure to go through that gorgeous gateway — it’s free and only takes a short while to stroll around the courtyard.

Initially, Wally and I stood there, gawking and uncertain about entering, but after we saw a man speaking to the guard stationed at the entrance, we decided to ask about the building. The guard informed us that it’s an extension of the modern archaeological museum and welcomed us to take a look around the interior courtyard. We walked around the first courtyard, which is dedicated to Roman archaeology, including mosaics and sculptures. However, unlike the adjacent institution, the artifacts on display here are not clearly marked.

Although it’s not open to the public, the exterior of Casa del Judío is worth pausing to take a look at.

Casa del Judío

Over the centuries, the enigmatic building located across from the Palacio de los Páez de Castillejo has been inextricably linked to the Castilian royal family and the generations of noble lineages connected to them, including the Sousa, Haro, Armenia and Cárdenas families.

Originally a Mudéjar palace, the stately manor is also called the Palacio del Duque de Medina Sidonia, or the Palace of the Duke of Medina Sidonia. For, it was within these walls that the bastard son of Juana de Sousa and Henry II of Castile, Enrique de Castilla y de Sousa, aka the first duke of Medina Sidonia, was born.

While eating at La Cavea, we spotted a cool couple in front of the Casa del Judío.

Although it’s not open to the public, you can still admire its ceramic-tiled roof, vibrant fuchsia bougainvilleas and square tower with a hipped roof enclosed by a latticework screen. To the left of the doorway, sheltered by greenery, is a bronze bust perched atop a marble plinth immortalizing the Roman poet Marcus Annaeus Lucanus (39-65 CE), better known in English literature as Lucan. 

Lucan was the nephew of the philosopher-statesman Lucius Annaeus Seneca (Seneca the Younger). He attracted the favorable attention of the Roman emperor Nero but conspired with Gaius Calpurnius Piso in a scheme to assassinate Nero and install Piso as his successor. Ultimately, its failure led to Lucan’s arrest and his subsequent suicide at the age of 26. 

Today the home is more commonly referred to by locals as la Casa del Judío, or in English, the Jew’s House, in reference to Elie J. Nahamias, a Judeo-Greek businessman and its most recent owner, who passed away in 1994. Nahamias was a descendant of the pre-exile Sephardic communities that inhabited the Iberian Peninsula and assembled an impressive library of printed books and manuscripts spanning six centuries of Jewish history. His collection is held by the Library of the Alliance Israélite Universelle based in Paris, France. And although the property is privately owned by his children, you can still admire its beautiful exterior.

A cute location and a good option if you want a snack or drink while visiting the archeological museum — but otherwise you can find better food elsewhere in town.

Café-Bar La Cavea

The center of the square is taken up with a casual resturant, with tables placed under the shade of trees (with white umbrellas an additional barrier from the heat when needed), all sitting amid broken remnants of Roman columns. When we stopped by, there was live music, with a performer taking up station by the fountain.

Beware choco! Although our Spanish friends say it’s actually good, this one was rubbery and flavorless. If you really want to cringe, do a search for “cuttlefish.”

While the café gets points for its setting, the food didn’t impress us — especially since we ordered calamari but where told they had choco instead, which is very close. Imagine our dismay when we discovered that it not only looked like and and was practically the size of a bleached, deflated football, it tasted like one, too. (Wally had also made the mistake of Googling what cuttlefish look like, which didn’t do him any favors). I was recovering from heat stroke, so he choked down as much choco as he could before giving up.

Detail of an intricately carved Mudejar relief featuring sebqa work, a decorative technique characterized by the repetition of geometric and vegetal forms.

Hidden Gems

Our wanderings through the historic Plaza de Jerónimo Páez offered glimpses into Córdoba’s rich history, through its ruins, artifacts and storied mansions. This square is no longer the bustling entertainment district it was when it was home to one of the largest theaters in the Roman Empire. But it still captivates visitors with its antique structures and inviting energy. Be sure to admire your surroundings before you head into the archeological museum, which is worth visiting. –Duke

Plaza de Jerónimo Páez

 

The Pabst Mansion in Milwaukee: Hopped Up on History

Take a tour of the historic home of the preeminent beer baron, Captain Frederick Pabst — an architectural gem from the Gilded Age that’s sure to quench your thirst for fun things to do in Milwaukee. 

“Could you tell whoever put up that cell tower to move it, please?” Wally asked our tour guide, Roxie. “It’s ruining my shot.”

My parents are always up for an adventure. Whenever they come to visit us, we find a fun day trip to take. Since they typically drive to see us and only spend a few days, the maximum distance for these excursions is about two hours away. When we visited my family in the fall, we toured Graycliff, the summer residence built for Darwin Martin’s wife Isabelle and designed by Frank Lloyd Wright. 

Next up: the Pabst Mansion in Milwaukee. Like Graycliff, it’s a historic property that had been acquired, adaptively reused and inadvertently saved by the occupation of a religious organization. Milwaukee is 92 miles, or about an hour and a half away, from Chicago, where we live, so the opportunity to tour the former home of a beer baron and his family made for an intoxicating destination. 

“The Pabst Mansion cost $254,000 in the early 1890s — a figure equivalent to about $8.4 million today. ”

A bust of the beer baron

A Brief History of the Pabst Mansion 

In 1890 Captain Johann Gottlieb Friedrich “Frederick” Pabst commissioned architects George Bowman Ferry and Alfred Charles Clas to create a 20,000-square-foot residence on what was then Grand Avenue (now Wisconsin Avenue). The home was one of the finest of the 19th century mansions built on Milwaukee’s premier residential street. 

The project was completed two years later at a cost of $254,000, which included the home, furnishings and artwork — a figure equivalent to about $8.4 million today. Pabst had 8,000 square feet of the house for himself, his wife, Maria, and the four children who survived to adulthood. The remainder was used as living quarters and service areas for the staff. The Pabsts employed up to 15 servants, who ran the day-to-day operations of the house.

The residence was modern for the time and one of the first to be wired for electricity, 10 years after this new-fangled energy source had arrived in Milwaukee. Additionally, the home boasted 10 full baths and a state-of-the-art central forced-air heating system. 

You’ll notice a theme that runs throughout the tour: elaborate decoration.

Face Value: The Exterior of the Pabst Mansion

Built in the Flemish Revival style, the mansion’s striking cream-colored brick façade features terracotta ornamentation and corbie gables, stepped triangular peaks, which reflect 17th century Northern European architectural forms. The gables have spires that were replicated and replaced as the originals had been destroyed by lightning sometime in the 20th century. 

Our gang taking a group shot in front of the landmark

Beneath the loggia and flanking the mansion’s double doors are a pair of ornate hand-forged ironwork window grilles emblazoned with the initials FP, for Frederick Pabst, of course. They feature delicate scrollwork and rosettes and were made by Austrian-born blacksmith Cyril Colnik. Captain Papst met Colnik at the 1893 Columbian Exposition in Chicago and encouraged him to come to Milwaukee. Colnik agreed, and set up a successful studio, where he worked until his retirement in 1955. Considered the “Mozart of Metal” for his skill at sculpting with iron, he achieved national fame as one of the foremost metal craftsmen of his time. 

The beautiful murals throughout the Pabst Mansion were painted over when the Catholic church took possession of the house. Thankfully, the restoration team was able to remove the offending coat of white and preserve the scenes beneath like this one.

Altar(ed) States: The Church’s Ownership — and the Battle to Save the Pabst Mansion

Following the death of their mother, Maria, in 1906, Gustave and Frederick Pabst Jr. put the palatial family home up for sale. After a couple of years had passed without any prospects, the boys sold the property to the Roman Catholic Archdiocese of Milwaukee for $97,000 as a residence for the archbishop and offices. The sale included the furniture of the ladies parlor, music room and formal dining room. 

By 1974 the archdiocese had outgrown the mansion, and the last archbishop to live there, William Edward Cousins, moved out. It’s difficult to comprehend, but the mansion’s future was at risk. The property was sold to a real estate developer whose sole interest was to demolish the historic home in favor of a parking lot for his neighboring business, the Coach House Motor Inn. 

Our tour of the home was led by the fabulous Roxie.

Thanks to the advocacy of a citizens’ preservation group, Wisconsin Heritages Inc. (WHI), now known as Pabst Mansion Inc., the historic home was saved. They secured a mortgage, and in 1979 the Pabst Mansion was recognized on the National Register of Historic Places and opened for public tours shortly thereafter. As for the Coach House Motor Inn, it has since been absorbed into Marquette University and serves as Mashuda Hall, a coed residence for freshmen and sophomores. 

We were bummed we couldn’t tour the Beaux Arts Pavilion off to the side of the mansion. It’s undergoing restoration.

From Pabst to Present: The Pavilion

To start our tour, we followed our colorful and delightful guide, Roxie, from the Welcome Center next door to the front of a small structure known as the Pavilion. The elaborate Beaux Arts confection designed by Otto Strack extends to the east of the mansion and connects to the home via a covered walkway. The pavilion was originally the Pabst’s display at the 1893 Chicago Columbian Exposition. 

After the fair ended, it was dismantled and transported to Milwaukee, where it was incorporated into the beer baron’s home. Made almost entirely of terracotta, its exterior is ornamented with motifs, including steins, cherubs riding swans and figures representing the god and goddess of wheat and barley. 

The Pavilion began as the Pabst’s display at the Columbian Expo in Chicago, then became a conservatory, chapel and visitors center.

Originally, it was used by the Pabst family as a conservatory for rare and tropical plants. Every summer during the family’s occupancy, their gardener would bring one of their palm trees outside in spring and plant it in the yard, providing a bit of exotic flair. 

Shortly after the occupancy of the archdiocese, the Pavilion was converted into a private chapel for the archbishop. Stained glass windows were added as well as the cross crowning the copper-domed pavilion. 

Unfortunately, at the time of our visit, we were unable to go inside as the structure was undergoing restoration. Buildings constructed for expositions aren’t meant to weather the elements year after year (read the fascinating The Devil in the White City), so the plan is to completely dismantle and reconstruct the Pavilion.  

Off to a good start! The reception hall at the Pabst Mansion has seating, warm-toned wood and a cool antler and iron chandelier.

Making an Entrance: The Reception Hall

Our group followed Roxie through the front doors and into the reception hall of the grand home. I’d describe it as more of a room than a foyer and can only imagine how visitors felt when they arrived. Influential guests at the residence included Teddy Roosevelt before he became president of the United States, while he toured Milwaukee in one of Captain Pabst’s carriages. 

Looking up, I admired the coffered wood ceiling and wrought iron and elk antler chandelier, the focal point of the hall. Sadly, the original, which was fabricated by Colnik, had been removed and purchased by Karl Lotharius for his German tavern Von Trier before WHI had acquired the property. The group enlisted master craftsman Dan Nauman of Bighorn Forge Iron Works to reproduce the fixture and restore the exterior window grilles. A smaller, less ornate chandelier hangs in the musician’s nook. 

Note the wall covering in the reception hall — it’s a costly embossed linen imported from London known as Tynecastle canvas. 

The original art collection by Captain Pabst and Maria featured some of the best artists of the time. Notable works in the room include Halt Before a Wallachian Station, painted by Christian Adolf Schreyer, above the fireplace, and the haunting marble bust of Captain Pabst by Gaetano Trentanove, an Italian sculptor who emigrated to America for the World’s Columbian Exposition of 1893. Like Colnik, Trentanove settled in Milwaukee and opened a studio, which led to a steady stream of portrait commissions from the city’s elite. 

A nook used by musicians to play for guests during parties is situated to the back of the reception hall. It holds an elaborate Black Forest clock and an intricately hand-tooled leather chair. 

Before we proceeded, Roxie provided us with a few basics about the Pabst Mansion: The ground floor was dedicated to entertaining guests and is divided into distinct public and private areas, including the reception hall, two parlors, a formal dining room, a smoking room and Pabst’s study. 

Wally’s favorite room was the ladies’ parlor. He’d have been sneaking in there all the time.

Fit for a Queen: Maria Pabst’s Ladies’ Parlor

The first room we entered off of the reception hall was the elegant ladies’ parlor, where Maria received her society friends. It’s decorated in the Rococo Revival style and showcases gilded curvilinear plasterwork that seems to swell and bloom as if blown by gentle gusts of wind. Fuchsia silk wall panels, curtains and tufted upholstery have been reproduced using samples taken from the original chairs. 

“This feels like a room Marie Antoinette would have had at Versailles,” I whispered to Wally. 

“Yes,” he said. “Only a lot smaller.”

The bright pink floral fabric, which covers chairs and wall panels, certainly makes a statement and helps brighten the cream-colored room.

Bust of Marie Pabst Goodrich by Gaetano Trentanove

Selecting the Fabric by Frederick Solacroix

Hand-painted lilac on the ceiling medallion

While we were admiring the details, Roxie told us about the horrific modifications made while the home was occupied by the church. Most of these were made during the tenure of Archbishop Cousins, who lived in the home from 1959 to 1974. 

For starters, the ladies parlor, along with the rest of the home’s interior walls, ceilings and woodwork, were painted white. This meant covering up some beautiful murals, evoking gasps of horror by our tour group. 

Cousins also had cream-colored wall-to-wall carpeting installed in the first and second floors. 

As Roxie was telling us this, my mind couldn’t process why the archdiocese would have done this to such a magnificent home — especially considering how opulent the interiors of cathedrals can be. 

Thankfully, restoration workers found that the paint used by the church came right off, and the original murals could be preserved.  

The music room was a favorite hangout space for the family and their guests. None of the Pabsts learned to play the piano, though, strangely enough.

Perfect Pitch: The Music Room 

The Pabsts used the less formal Renaissance Revival style parlor for family use and to entertain guests. The walls feature low mahogany wainscot panels and faux ebony twisted columns. Other noteworthy items include a baby grand piano with two stools for duets and a mechanical music box. Although none of the Pabsts apparently knew how to play the piano, the couple welcomed touring performers, undoubtedly appearing at their Pabst Theater, to play for a small audience of friends. 

Their youngest daughter, Emma, married Rudolph Nunnemacher in this room in 1897. The elaborate ceremony was held under a canopy of white and gold silk with pink electric lights on a raised dais.

Fun fact: the Pabst Mansion logo was inspired by their wedding invitations, which featured hand-painted watercolor scenes taken from photographs of Rudolph’s global travels, paired with the couple’s initials. 

Touring pianists would entertain the family.

Love it! A statue of Cupid

Portrait of Captain Pabst by Charles James Fox

Another fun fact: Apparently, Captain Pabst always wanted a brown Jersey cow. (I guess that answers the query, What do you get the man who has everything?) According to a local newspaper, on Pabst’s last Christmas, in 1904, his two sons, Frederick Jr. and Gustave, surprised him by wheeling a cow into the music room. Sadly, the Captain bought the farm, so to speak, six days later, on New Year’s Eve. 

The dining table was set up for 10 but could extend to seat 22!

A Seat at the Table: The Formal Dining Room 

Roxie told us that the dining table, chairs, built-in cabinets and mirrors were all custom-made by the Milwaukee-based Matthew Brothers Manufacturing Company, one of the most prominent furniture manufacturing houses in the United States during the 19th century. When fully extended, the dining table can seat 22 people. 

She continued by sharing an interesting story about the light fixture that hangs above the table. It was considered a marvel of modern engineering at the time, as it was equipped to use gas, kerosene and electricity. 

Landscape paintings above the doors were painted over by the archdiocese but were also able to be restored.  

The formal dining room is on the first floor of the mansion.

A small pale yellow tiled conservatory is attached to the dining room.

Fun fact: The darkly humorous actor Vincent Price filmed a commercial while seated at the Pabsts’ dining room table, ready to tuck into a submarine sandwich from Cousins Subs. 

On Captain Pabst’s desk is a letter he wrote to his children telling them that a good name is more important than riches, and imploring them to be generous and honest.

Hidden Assets: Captain Pabst’s Study

The Captain’s study is the most Germanic and elaborate of the rooms: tooled leather, trophies and an ornately carved armchair with lion-headed arms. I couldn’t help but admire the room’s highly detailed walnut and oak woodwork. Roxie explained that the interiors were inspired by the 17th century German Renaissance, and an antiquing technique was used to appear older than they really are. 

Fun fact: The study contains 14 hidden compartments that are accessed by catch levers. The Captain concealed books, important documents and cigars in his humidor. 

The oil painting over the fireplace, Plowing in Saxony by Richard Lorenz, is thought to have reminded Pabst of the village where he was born. 

The elaborately carved cabinets held secret compartments.

The window features “breath of life” marks left by the glass blower.

A small secondary desk in the study

The leaded glass windows are composed of uniform panes spun into circular shapes known as rondels. Because they’re mouth-blown and produced one at a time, each disk has a slightly irregular pontil mark left behind from the detachment of the blowpipe that’s referred to as the breath of life. 

On top of the desk is a copy of a letter written by Captain Pabst in 1899 to his children. It was included with his will, and I found the following passages to be particularly moving:

“Be generous and unselfish to each other in case of need, and above all, be honest and noble in all your dealings, not only with each other, but with the World. 

I want you to always have a good name. It is better than riches, and your greatest happiness will come from the knowledge of doing right.”

The ceiling panels of the study were painted by Louis Mayer, who ingeniously used different-colored stains to emulate the appearance of inlaid wood. Be sure to look up at the wood coffered ceiling with hand-painted panels inscribed with German proverbs.

The archway under the stairs held a telephone closet.

Step Up: The Grand Staircase Hall

Pabst embraced new technology: The home had its own telephone room, which is located in a small closet beneath the grand staircase. 

My mom, who Wally and I call Mima, remarked that she thought it was where Harry Potter lived, a reference to the cupboard under the stairs where the beloved boy wizard was forced to stay with his aunt and uncle, which made Roxie laugh. 

A cattle skull detail on the landing, looking down at the first floor.

The Pabst home was filled with statues and paintings.

The finials that adorn each of the grand staircase’s nine newel posts were cleverly designed to replicate hops buds. A stained glass skylight tops the stairwell and fills it with natural light. 

The landings at Pabst Mansion served as rooms themselves. And check out the stained glass doorway to granddaughter Elspeth’s room!

The Sum of Its Arts: Second Floor Foyer 

We ascended the staircase and stopped on the second floor. This is where several of the family’s bedrooms are located.  

Roxie had mentioned earlier that Captain Pabst was a humble man who never forgot where he came from. This is evident in the artwork he and Maria collected. The painting Farewell to the Homeland by Wilhelm Koller depicts immigrants on a ship about to set sail, most likely on their way to America. A few of the subjects are looking back in despair, not knowing where they were going, while others are sharing a drink and are expressing a sense of hope. 

Emma had quite the setup, with a desk and vanity in her bedroom.

Austen-tacious: Emma’s Pabsts Regal Bedroom 

The first bedroom we toured belonged to daughter Emma, who lived in the mansion until 1897, when she married. Her room is decorated in the Regency style, which is reflected in the ormolu swag and tassel design on the fireplace mantle. The motif is repeated in the wall coverings, which were replicated for the room. If you look closely, the design depicts what appears to be swans drinking from a fountain. 

Emma’s room is the only one in the home that has all of the original bathroom fixtures and the fanciest toilet tank I’ve ever seen — it has an embossed and gilt laurel wreath and garland motif. The tub, with its oak rim, had been removed and relocated to the basement by the archdiocese. 

The Pabsts weren’t scared of mixing patterns, we’ll give them that!

Our group paused in front of a portrait of eldest daughter, Elizabeth Pabst von Ernst. Roxie told us about her tragic passing: During construction of the home, Elizabeth became ill after the birth of her daughter, Emma Marie, and died six months later from appendicitis. She was only 26 years old. Rumor has it that the Pabsts blamed her death on her husband, the German painter Otto von Ernst. 

Roxie went on to tell us that the Pabsts approached their son-in-law to discuss Emma Marie, their granddaughter: “Look, we would like to adopt her,” they said. “We feel that we can provide her with a better life and would like to make sure that she receives the inheritance that her mother would have gotten.” Otto agreed. Captain Pabst gave him $10,000, told him to leave, and he did. After the proceedings had taken place, her name was changed from Emma Marie to Elsbeth in remembrance of her mother, Elizabeth. 

It seems a bit strange to have a large portrait of yourself as a focal point in your bedroom, but hey. That’s a painting of Elsbeth Pabst by Caesar Phillip in the young girl’s bedroom.

True Blue: Elsbeth’s Room

Elsbeth was the only small child to grow up in the Pabst Mansion, and she was spoiled accordingly — she was given the most elaborately decorated room in the home. It’s richly ornamented in Rococo style and includes carved pilasters, silk wall coverings and a Venetian glass chandelier. Her room was further enhanced with a fine hand-painted frieze of floral wreaths and ribbons.

Roxie tells our group about Elspeth, whose father was paid off so she could live in the Pabst Mansion.

Fun fact: During restoration of the bathroom, Dave Strickland, the owner of Affiliated Artists, removed 11 layers of paint and made the discovery that the walls had originally been painted a light blue. While that color is now paired with baby boys, it used to be the opposite: Blue was for girls, and, believe it or not, pink was for boys.  

That’s a portrait of Maria Pabst above the fireplace in her sitting room.

A Cozy Retreat: Maria’s Sitting Room 

Maria’s sitting room is more casual than the opulent bedrooms of Emma and Elsbeth. With its floral wallpaper, cherry woodwork and comfortable furniture, it provided a retreat where the lady of the house could read and attend to her correspondence. 

The raised platform was where Maria would try on dresses — and do needlepoint when she had insomnia.

Roxie informed us that Mrs. Pabst suffered from insomnia. Unlike Wally, who conks immediately after putting on an audiobook, Maria would often get up in the middle of the night and come into the sitting room to do needlepoint. 

The sitting room for Captain Pabst is, honestly, pretty unimpressive compared to the other family members’.

Separate Beds: The Master Bedroom 

Roxie pointed out that the master bedroom had two double beds on either side of the room. This prompted the following conversation:

Wally: So they slept in separate beds?

Roxie: But you know they got together sometime, right?

Wally: Well, they did have 10 kids!

A curious piece of art now hangs in the room that was taken from the brewery office of Captain Pabst. The painting features children as the main subjects and is titled The Art of Brewing by Hermann Michalowski. In it, alarmingly young kids are shown drinking beer. Roxie explained to us that the artist’s intent was to depict the purity of the product, and of course children are traditionally viewed as good and kind. 

Be sure to check out The Art of Brewing by Hermann Michalowski to see depictions of toddlers boozin’ it up.

Why was Erik Heyl, Lisette’s grandson, painted wearing a dress? Roxie told us that it made it easier for kids to go to the bathroom before they were potty trained. 

Fun fact: Marie’s steamer trunk was returned to the Pabst Mansion after it was picked up from a collector who found it sitting on the curb outside of the private men’s hangout, the Milwaukee Club. The institution had been decluttering and was unaware that the unassuming trunk belonged to the famous beer baron’s wife. It’s marked MP on the top and M. Pabst on the bottom. 

The third floor landing

Troubles of the Pabst

At this point, Roxie pointed out that every family has problems, and for Captain and Mrs. Pabst, one was their eldest son, Gustave. In the summer of 1892, he met the freshly divorced Shakespearian actress Margret Mather. The pair fell madly in love and eloped. It wasn’t long before Captain and Mrs. Pabst found out, and they were not pleased. 

Three years later, the couple was seen arguing. A piece circulated in the national news reporting that Margret chased after and struck Gustave with a horsewhip. Although both parties denied this publicly, their marriage ended shortly thereafter. At the time, it was the largest divorce settlement in Wisconsin: Margret received $30,000 from Captain Pabst to not contest the suit. She took the money, and in 1898 she staged her theatrical comeback in a production of Cybelline, collapsed onstage in the middle of a performance and died later that evening. 

The servants had a tiny table — but they had some pretty Delft tiles to admire.

Rewarding Hard Work: The Servants Dining Room

The final room on the tour was the servants dining room. A mutual respect existed between Captain Pabst and his staff, which is reflected in the servants quarters. Their dining room includes hand-painted delft tile featuring idyllic scenes. The stenciled frieze along the top of the wall mimics the motif of the three tulips in the tile work. 

The Captain was known for his work ethic — evident in the motivational saying in a stained glass window here: Guter Mut ist halbe Arbeit (A good attitude is half the work).

A vignette in the kitchen

Saving Grace: Reacquiring Furnishings 

Thanks to a number of donors, the museum has managed to reacquire many of the original furnishings, artwork, glassware and ephemera that were part of the Pabst family’s personal effects. 

Early on, the WHI negotiated with the Archdiocese of Milwaukee to purchase three rooms of furniture that originally filled the principal rooms on the first floor. Many of these pieces were slated to be auctioned off and were saved by supporters, who aided by purchasing one chair or table at a time. 

Over the years, many more original items have been returned, helping in the effort to restore the home to its original state. 

Adult tickets are $12, and docent-led tours are about 75 minutes long. I encourage anyone with an interest in a glimpse into a bygone era, architecture, art or learning more about the Pabst legacy to visit. Help preserve an impressive landmark building. –Duke

The Pabst Mansion

2000 West Wisconsin Avenue 
Milwaukee, Wisconsin
USA

 

Graycliff: Frank Lloyd Wright’s Ode to Lake Erie

This impressive estate perched above the water was built for Isabelle Martin and shows the birth of Wright’s organic architecture.

Frank Lloyd Wright built Graycliff, a summer residence for the Martins, from 1926 to 1929 — just in time for the family to lose their great wealth.

Frank Lloyd Wright had to grow on me. Actually, more accurately, I had to experience his work firsthand to develop an appreciation for it. Because, to me at least, his exteriors can seem monolithic, the windows small, the horizontal planes somewhat uninteresting. 

But when you enter one of his homes, it’s like you’ve entered a magical realm — the unassuming wardrobe that opens into the fantastical realm of Narnia, if you will. Wright transports you to another world, a cozy space where nature is invited in, often in surprising ways. You develop a great respect for the thought and vision that went into each of his homes. The environment connects to the site with a palette inspired by, and often using, materials sourced from the immediate area. 

“When the Martins complained about the additions, Wright replied, “You don’t need them — but the house does.””

Our docent, Gail, was extremely knowledgeable about Graycliff and its colorful history.

The Martin Family and the History of Graycliff

Graycliff was the lakeside haven and summer home of Isabelle and Darwin Martin. Darwin was a wealthy executive at the Larkin Soap Company and first met Wright at his Oak Park studio in 1902 to discuss the commission of a Larkin Administration Building. He later commissioned Wright to design and build the home that would become Graycliff. The estate is perched atop a 50-foot bluff overlooking Lake Erie in the town of Derby, New York, about 20 miles south of Buffalo. In the distance, you can see the Point Abino Lighthouse and the Welland Canal in Canada. 

The Larkin Soap Company was a massive mail-order business, and Darwin one of the highest paid executives at the time (worth the equivalent of $40 million nowadays). This accounts for his ability to build not only Graycliff but the family home in Buffalo (known as the Martin House) with Wright — an architect notorious for not letting a budget get in the way of his vision. 

But all of that changed when the stock market crashed in 1929, ushering in the Great Depression. Darwin had heavily invested in a number of his son’s business ventures, including 800 West Ferry, a luxury apartment high-rise in Buffalo. Due to these underperforming investments, the Martins’ fortunes eroded. 

Darwin sustained a series of mild strokes and a more serious episode on December 17, 1935, resulting in his death. 

It was reported that upon hearing of Darwin’s death, Wright stated that he had lost his best friend and most influential patron. Over the years, Darwin loaned Wright approximately $70,000. None of it was ever repaid. 

Isabelle continued to spend summers at Graycliff until about 1941. When she could no longer afford to keep the main house open, she moved into the apartment above the garage in the Foster House, before passing away on February 22, 1945 at the age of 75. 

Wright probably never imagined a modern sculpture sitting on the lawn at Graycliff — but we like to think he’d approve.

Wright’s Vision for Graycliff

Construction of the estate began in 1926 and was a gift from Darwin to Isabelle, upon his retirement from the Larkin Soap Company. The Martins were able to spend their first summer there in 1929, though the grounds weren’t completed until 1931. 

The complex comprises the main house, a sunken boiler house (called the Heat Hut) and the Foster House, originally conceived as the chauffeur’s quarters, so named because it was used as the summer residence of Isabelle’s daughter, Dorothy Martin Foster, her son-in-law, James, and their two children. 

Graycliff is named for the natural feature that forms the overlook it’s perched upon, and despite sounding a bit dour, the house is actually bright and airy. Not only did Wright want to provide views of Lake Erie, he had another reason to fill the house with natural light: Isabelle suffered from scleritis, a condition that causes chronic eye pain and light sensitivity. According to correspondence sent from the Martins to Wright, Isabelle needed a place that was flooded with “light and sunshine” — the opposite of their city home, which was dark and difficult for her to navigate. 

The view of the lake through the home was destroyed for a while when the Piarist priests put their chapel here.

The Piarist Priests: The Other Owners of Graycliff

In the 1950s, the Martin descendants sold the property to the Piarist Fathers, a Roman Catholic teaching order from Hungary. The Piarist edict being education for every child, they formed Calasanctius High School in Buffalo and needed residences for 24 priests and a boarding home for 48 underprivileged students.

When the priests purchased the property, they also needed a chapel to accommodate the large Hungarian community in the area. So they tore out a wall to create a new entrance and replaced the windows of the cantilevered porch with colored glass — thereby cutting off the view of the lake through the house and destroying Wright’s main vision for Graycliff. 

The story goes that when Wright was 91, he visited Graycliff, unannounced, with some protégés. 

The architect pulled up, and the head priest, recognizing the fancy car, ran out to greet him. Taking one look at the alterations, the first thing Wright says is, “Who did this? This is not my work.”

“We needed a chapel,” the priest stammered.

“Well, I can design you one,” Wright said. 

Ignoring the priest, he turned to his colleagues and said, “Come on. I’ll show you the house.” And in they walked, uninvited. 

Wright never got to design that chapel, as he died a few months later. But he’d be happy to learn the property has been restored. 

Isabelle liked to create flower arrangements, so Wright planted a cutting garden for her in front of the home.

The Cutting Garden

Our tour began with a walk through Isabelle’s garden. She was noted for her flower arrangements, so Wright designed gardens to accommodate her hobby. 

Eventually, the Martins hired landscape architect Ellen Biddle Shipman, renowned for her naturalistic style, to revise Wright’s landscaping scheme. Shipman enhanced the garden for Isabelle, giving her flowers that would bloom in rotation from spring through fall. 

The site also includes pine trees, which reminded Isabelle of summers at the Lake Placid Club in the Adirondack Mountains. 

Beyond the cutting garden were the vegetable gardens, orchards for apple and pear trees and grapevines. 

The house was approached from a diagonal driveway, which faced the sunset and helped make the narrow home appear larger.

The First Glimpse of Graycliff

Our initial view of the house took place between two stone markers, the original location of the driveway that led to the house. 

The family owned eight and a half acres, but the plot where they wanted their summer home was two and a half acres. Further complicating matters, the spot atop the limestone bluff was just 250 feet wide. That’s very narrow for a 6,500-square-foot house. 

But there was nothing Wright liked so much as a challenge. And one of the cool, oh-so-Wright elements is that you approach Graycliff at an angle. The Martins bought the adjoining property from their next-door neighbors, the well-to-do Rumseys. The driveway branches off of the Rumseys’ and perfectly faces the setting sun, which would be a vision for visitors arriving for a summer soirée. 

The turnabout was made of yellow gravel — to complement the gold of the setting sun, of course. 

Approaching from an angle had an added bonus: It made the narrow façade seem more stately and grand. 

But the house itself wasn’t the main focus: Wright wanted the first glimpse to be of the lake; that was the true star of the show.

Horizontal lines almost always play a prominent role in Wright’s designs. For him, they draw a parallel to the ground, and in particular at Graycliff, the horizon and the surface of Lake Erie. The house becomes one with nature. 

The roof is made with cedar shake shingles, each hand-painted. Wright didn’t like gutters, so the house doesn’t have any. He never was one to let practicality get in the way of aesthetics. 

By creating a glass box of sorts, visitors could see through the home’s rectilinear form right out to the lake. At the time Graycliff was built, the area was undeveloped farmland, with nothing obstructing the view of the water. 

The driveway curves around an artificial pond, but that wasn’t part of Isabelle’s plan. Once again, she wanted something that would evoke her beloved Adirondacks, and she requested a small hill covered with bushes and low trees. But Wright cleverly played the money card, and insisted that the pond would be less expensive. The idea is that this water feature would be an extension of the lake. Wright almost always got his way.

A large part of Wright’s design aesthetic involves incorporating colors and materials from the surrounding area. At Graycliff, sand from the shores of Lake Erie was mixed into the stucco to add another layer of texture, and the home’s red roof is meant to evoke the ferrous oxide in the Tichenor limestone on the cliff behind the house that bleeds a rust color. 

Sand from the beach was added to the stucco façade and inspired its yellow hue. The cliff’s limestone, bleeding a rusty red that carries into the color of the roof, was also used to build the home.

Another design motif favored by Wright was cantilevers — and at Graycliff, he wanted to evoke the layers of limestone on the bluff. 

His plans called for various additions, but his clients weren’t sold. 

“The Martins were concerned about money, and they said to him, ‘We really don’t need this balcony; we don’t need the stone porch; we don’t need the porte cochère. Just a little awning would be great,’” our guide Gail tells us. “And then they go away on a trip — and when they come back, all that’s in process.”

When the Martins complained about these additions, Wright replied, “You don’t need them — but the house does.” Ever the egotist, Wright was always right, and he bristled whenever someone questioned his vision. 

Stay by Sarah Braman, 2022, on the grounds of Graycliff

Sarah Braman: Finding Room

When we visited Graycliff, monumental modern sculptures by Sarah Braman were scattered about the grounds. These large geometric shapes made of concrete and brightly colored glass added a vibrant element of visual interest to the landscape. We enjoyed them, and hope that Wright would have appreciated them as well.

Duke peeks out of Sit, a 2022 sculpture by Braman — the first of her works we saw during our visit to Graycliff

Wally takes the name of the sculpture, Sit, literally.

That being said, we could have done without a couple of the ones inside the house. We’d have preferred to see the living room set up as it would have been when the Martins lived here — not emptied of some pieces of furniture to make way for Braman’s smaller-scale sculptures of domestic items and found objects, which struck us as disjointed. 

The client actually wanted a hill here with trees — but Wright insisted on a small pond that would connect to the lake out back.

Entering Graycliff

Upon arrival, we passed through the porte cochère and entered the foyer. Immediately, you’ll notice one of Wright’s signature architectural techniques, known as compression and release. In the entry, the ceiling is low, and the smaller scale of the room creates a tension that propels you to move beyond it, into the larger living room, an open space with higher ceilings. To create the expansive double-height space, Wright used beams from nearby Bethlehem Steel. 

Unlike Wright’s Prairie-style homes, which were concentric, with one large room off of which the others flowed, Graycliff is rectilinear. One room follows another, and Wright used compression to define transitions between these spaces without walls. By this time, he was moving into a style he referred to as organic architecture.

The stucco-covered walls used on Graycliff’s exterior continue into the interior, and provide a visual connection between the outdoors and indoors. 

When the Graycliff Conservancy purchased the property in 1999, very few of the original furnishings remained. Many are reproductions, including the willow and reed pieces throughout the home. This type of furniture was very popular during the late ’20s and is thought to be similar to what Darwin and Isabelle saw when they vacationed in the Adirondacks. –Wally 

Wright felt fireplaces were the heart of a home, and this one was built in the Adirondack style.

A Room-by-Room Tour of Graycliff

The Living Room

The living room is center stage. Floor-to-ceiling windows and doors open onto the front terrace and the backyard and span the length of the house. These walls of glass provide gorgeous views of Lake Erie and fill the interior with plenty of natural light. The focal point of the room is the monumental Adirondack-style stone fireplace with a mantle that nearly covers the north wall. Wright believed that the fireplace was the heart of the home. An unusual feature to this type of hearth is that logs were stacked on end, vertically. As a fire burned, it created a dramatic plume of flames. 

One of the few materials used in the home that was not sourced locally was the cypress heartwood flooring from Florida — most likely chosen for its durability and beauty.

Curl up with a good book in the Fern Room, a cozy nook off of the living room.

The Fern Room

Adjacent to the living room is a cozy nook that served as a library and is known as the Fern Room — a great spot to curl up with a good book and admire the incredible views of the lake. The ceiling is lower here to establish a more intimate space. The floor is covered in flagstone that came from the city of Buffalo, which was, at the time, replacing its stone walkways with concrete. 

Wright proposed that the window glass meet at the corners so as not to obstruct the view, but the Martins didn’t see the need for that additional expense. (He would later get his way at Fallingwater, a home built for Edgar and Liliane Kaufmann between 1936-1937 in Mill Run, Pennsylvania.)

The Sunporch

Beyond this, the floorplan flows into the sunroom, with rubber floor tiles. Originally a screened-in porch, cypress-framed windows were added to shield occupants from the intense winds coming off the lake. 

The room functioned primarily as a music room. Isabelle had a paid companion who lived at Graycliff by the name of Cora Herrick, though the children called her Aunt Polly. She played the piano — one of the few original pieces of furniture remaining in the home. According to Gail, Darwin wrote in his diary how much he loved hearing music being played while he was working at his desk above. 

Diners had great views at Graycliff — and got to avoid errant sparks flying out of the fireplace.

The dining room at Graycliff is around the corner from the living room.

The Dining Room

On the other side of the living room is an area that served as the dining room. 

The table is positioned parallel to the wall so that guests could easily turn to enjoy the view of the lake — and also to avoid the errant sparks and embers that occasionally popped out of the fireplace. 

All six bedrooms are found upstairs.

The Staircase

A cascading waterfall staircase made of maple leads to the home’s bedrooms on the second floor. This type of passage consists of two parallel flights of stairs joined by a landing that creates a 90-degree turn. 

A dramatic window with a diamond shape at the top of the stairs

The architect’s signature use of rhythmic repetition can be seen in the home’s details. Wright noticed that the local limestone breaks off in geometric forms, so he gave a nod to these in subtle ways: octagonal door knobs and a diamond-shaped window at the apex of the staircase as well as light fixtures. This brings order and visual harmony to Graycliff. 

Poor Darwin got stuck with the worst bedroom of the bunch.

Darwin, a workaholic, converted his porch into an office.

Darwin Martin’s Bedroom

Upon climbing the stairs, Darwin’s bedroom can be found to the right. Not only did Darwin not share a room with his wife, he was also assigned the worst of the bunch, to our minds. It’s smaller than most of the other bedrooms, though it does contain a small bathroom and sleeping porch.

Darwin converted the porch into an office, as he was a notorious workaholic.

The bedrooms feature one of the innovations at the time: olive knuckle hinges patented by Stanley Company that allow a recessed door to open all the way flat to the wall. 

This sparse hallway led to the bedrooms and the back staircase.

We really liked Braman’s Her House (2019), which sat in Isabelle’s room, as it evoked the larger pieces on the lawn.

A guest room next to Isabelle’s room offered twin beds — and gorgeous views of Lake Erie.

Isabelle’s room had its own bathroom, a door out to a balcony and a walk-in closet — unheard-of in a Wright home!

Isabelle Martin’s Bedroom 

At the top of the stairs and looking to the left is a monastic gallery, which has a similar set of windows as the living room below, and leads to a private wing with bedrooms. The first is a nice guest room, with Isabelle’s bedroom next door.

Wright despised closets. However, Isabelle was the client of record for the house and insisted he provide her with one. Her bedroom includes a walk-in closet where the bathroom was originally planned. But Isabelle wanted her bathroom to have a window, so it had to go on the lake side and required Wright to cut a hole into the chimney to accommodate her request. 

A private terrace is accessible from Isabelle’s room, and she probably spent evenings there as direct sunlight would have been too much for her eyes to bear. 

She might have been the hired help, but Aunt Polly sure had nice digs at Graycliff.

Aunt Polly’s Room 

While she did get a nice bedroom, Aunt Polly was technically the help. Her room is a transitional space from that of the immediate family to the staff. 

Cora remained in service from 1911 until Isabelle’s death in 1945. In 1929, when the Martins could no longer afford to pay her, Cora stayed on for room and board. After their mother’s death, the children took care of their dear Aunt Polly. 

Even the servants had cute rooms at Graycliff.

The servants had their meals in a sunroom at the back of the house.

This cool sink came from Europe and was used exclusively by Isabelle for her flower arrangements.

The Pantry and Kitchen 

Farther down the corridor are two bedrooms for the staff, as well as the back staircase that leads down to the staff sunporch and kitchen area.

The hammered metal sink in the pantry was imported from Europe and was used solely by Isabelle to arrange flowers from her cutting garden. The cook had to use the one in the adjacent kitchen, which faced the front yard instead of the lake. 

On display within the built-in cabinets, another Wright trademark, behind Isabelle’s sink, are Larkin Soap products, including Buffalo china. Elbert Hubbard was Darwin’s brother-in-law and started the Arts and Crafts Roycroft movement in East Aurora, New York. He suggested to Larkin that consumers would be incentivized to purchase their product if they received a piece of china along with it. He was right, and the pottery ended up being quite successful. 

In the cabinets, there’s also the Martins’ red and white wedding china and Indian Tree pattern china, which were gifted to the conservancy by the couple’s grandchildren. 

Here’s the sink the cook used in the kitchen off of the pantry.

The stovetop and oven were all part of one piece of furniture.

The small yet functional kitchen contains another original piece, a hulking fridge from the Jewett Refrigeration Company, along with a freestanding prep station, sink and porcelain-glazed stove. 

The Heat Hut held a boiler to heat both Graycliff and the Foster House. Then the priests used it to store wine and honey.

The Heat Hut

Sitting between the main home and the Foster House is the sunken red-roofed Heat Hut. The structure once held an oil boiler that provided steam heat to both houses. According to Gail, the Piarist priests used it to store wine and honey from the bees they kept on the property. 

The Foster House, part of the garage at the Graycliff estate, was originally used by the chauffeur and his family.

The Foster House

The apartment above the garage was built for the chauffeur and his family. The original design was flipped so that the cantilever balcony would afford its inhabitants unobstructed views of the lake. 

Shortly after the stock market crashed, the Martins couldn’t afford to keep the chauffeur out at Graycliff, so they sent him back to Buffalo, and their daughter Dorothy, and her husband, James Foster, moved in, spending summers there with their two children until 1941. 

Wally and Duke on a balcony of the Foster House

There are quite a few bedrooms in the Foster House — but not much else, aside from a small sitting room and kitchen.

After Darwin’s death and the family’s financial troubles, Isabelle moved into the Foster House, staying in what was the gardener’s room, which had its own bathroom. The ever-particular woman liked to sit on the balcony — but she didn’t appreciate seeing the cars pull into and out of the garage. She contacted Wright, who acquiesced and moved the garage doors to the side and extended the wall.

Wright extended a wall to block out the view of cars coming and going from the garage for Isabelle.

“And she says, ‘While you’re at it, can you make me another bedroom up there?’” Gail tells us. So the apartment now has four bedrooms and a couple more balconies. Isabelle seems to have been the one person who could charm Wright into altering his original plans.

The seating out back helped hide the servants carrying picnic items down to the beach and back.

The Esplanade 

Wright’s idea for the esplanade was to build a reflecting pool, cascading terraces and steps that led all the way down to the beach. But when the architect left the premises, Darwin contacted his friends at Bethlehem Steel to request a metal tower with steps like those his neighbors had. Not as pretty as Wright’s vision but certainly practical. It deteriorated, so there’s no longer any way down the beach.

Duke, Poppa and Wally enjoy the gorgeous day at Graycliff.

The access to the stair tower was visible, though, and again Isabelle complained about the view. When she was out on her terrace, she could see the servants coming and going. She felt this was unseemingly — that’s why they had a rear staircase, after all — so Wright constructed the overlook seating in such a way that the help could go about their business while remaining out of sight. 

Saving Graycliff 

When the Martin family decided to sell the property, the person who wanted to buy it was a developer who built the condominiums that are now next door. He planned to demolish Graycliff — who needs a historic home when you can get top dollar for lakefront condos? 

Thankfully, a group in Buffalo came to the rescue, forming the Graycliff Conservancy. In 1999 they received a grant, and the conservancy was able to purchase the property. 

The renovations began, wrapping up in 2019 and costing about $10 million. 

There are plans to build a new eco-friendly visitors center to replace the current one, which was built by the priests as a gymnasium for the children.

Restored back to its 1926 splendor, Graycliff exemplifies Wright’s philosophy of living in harmony with nature. If you’re in the Buffalo area, stop by for a visit. As with all of Wright’s homes, they have to be seen to be fully appreciated. –Duke

Frank Lloyd Wright’s Graycliff

Graycliff

6472 Old Lake Shore Road
Derby, New York 14047
USA

 

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The Fayban Villa and Its Connection to Frank Lloyd Wright

Fabyan Villa Museum and Its Frank Lloyd Wright Connection

Tour the picturesque Riverbank estate, with the Fabyan Forest Preserve, a Japanese garden, a windmill, quirky curios (a suspect mummy!) — and a codebreaking legacy.

The Fabyan Villa can thank Frank Lloyd Wright for its cruciform shape. The house and its grounds are worth exploring if you want to take a day trip from Chicago.

Before my parents make their annual visit to Wally and me in Chicago, we plan an interesting day trip, do a little research and look for something quirky to do. Typically it’s somewhere a bit farther afield since neither of us has a car. I can’t recall how we settled on the Fabyan Villa in Geneva, Illinois. It’s entirely possible that I came across it on the Atlas Obscura website, given Wally’s and my proclivity for attractions that don’t always make their way into guidebooks. Or it could've had something to do with Frank Lloyd Wright, the Japanese garden or the circa-1850 Dutch-style windmill located on the grounds of the sprawling estate. 

Colonel George Fabyan

George Fabyan, Country Squire of Riverbank

In 1905, Colonel George and Nelle Fabyan purchased 10 acres of land in Geneva, including a Victorian-style farmhouse, as a country retreat from their residence in Chicago. Fabyan (pronouced like Fay-bee-yen) came from a wealthy and prominent Boston family. His father was a co-partner at Bliss, Fabyan and Company, one of the country’s largest dry goods and textile merchants, known for Ripplette, a lightweight, crinkly fabric similar to seersucker, which needed no to minimal ironing after washing. 

Fabyan inherited his father’s wealth — around $2 million dollars (equivalent to over $57 million today). He acquired an additional 300-plus acres over the next 20 years and named the estate Riverbank. 

George and Nelle indulged in a variety of unconventional interests, including cryptology, Japanese gardening and the construction of a scientific laboratory complex that let them pursue their research interests.

“Some rich men go in for art collections, gay times on the Riviera or extravagant living. But they all get satiated.

That’s why I stick to scientific experiments, spending money to discover valuable things that universities can’t afford. You can never get sick of too much knowledge.”

— Colonel George Fabyan

The Fabyan Villa Museum

A Tour of Fabyan Villa

The four of us arrived at the forest preserve, parked the car and followed the steps leading up to the house, which sits on a hillside overlooking the Fox River. We purchased tickets ($10 per person) and met a docent from the Preservation Partners of Fox Valley (PPFV) outside who told us about the historic home. In 1907, the Fabyans commissioned architect Frank Lloyd Wright to enlarge and remodel the existing farmhouse in the Prairie style. While it’s no Fallingwater or even Graycliff, it has its charms.

Additions included the two-story south wing, which added symmetry to the dwelling’s long, low cruciform shape, three projecting porches, wood-spindle screening and overhanging eaves, adding to the horizontality of the overall design. 

Our tour began in the Fabyans’ reception room, which is paneled in dark walnut and furnished with Victorian-era wood and glass display cabinets, showcasing the couple’s memorabilia, taxidermy and Asian ephemera. Among the notable acquisitions on display are a white marble statue of Diana and the Lion (Intellect Dominating Force) by American sculptor Frank Edwin Elwell, which stands in the dining room and was originally exhibited in the Palace of Fine Arts at the 1893 World’s Columbian Exposition. There’s also a Japanese samurai suit and a vitrine filled with bodhisattva statuettes.

On the back porch is a display case holding a mummy. Its body is wrapped in strips of linen and clutching what uncannily resembles an infant. Turns out the mummy is actually a forgery. In 1982, an expert examined the mummy, and an X-ray revealed it to be fabricated with nails, plywood, sawdust and a single bone inside the wrappings — and that bone came from a dog. Apparently, no one’s certain of its provenance or if the original owners knew it was a fake. One theory is that it may have been featured as a sideshow oddity or was an artifact purchased by Fabyan from the Field Museum. 

The Fabyans’ mummy turned out to be a hoax.

Beyond the dining room is Nelle Fabyan’s bedroom and en suite bathroom with custom furniture designed by Wright. Nelle had a hanging bed, suspended from the ceiling like a giant swing, and it’s speculated that this was to promote air circulation and protect her from contracting tuberculosis. Many of the original furnishings were auctioned off when the estate was sold in 1939, but locals who owned pieces donated them back to the landmark, which is managed by the PPFV. 

Frank Lloyd Wright didn’t build the Fabyan Villa from scratch — but he did renovate it, infusing it with Prairie style aesthetics and symmetry.

Wright’s Prairie style aesthetic is also evident in the open floor plan and warm earth tone color palette used on the walls of the interior. 

Upstairs is the music room, where Nelle’s Victor Talking Machine aka Victrola, encased in a wood cabinet, stands sentinel. Only the wealthy could afford the innovative Victor-Victrola model, whose initial selling price was $200, expensive for the time.

Duke and Wally explore the estate.

Duke and his parents in the rose arbor (which was noticeably lacking roses at the time of our visit).

Connected to the music room is the sleeping porch, where the pet monkeys, Mike, Patsy and Molly, would stay during the winter months. The floor of the room is tinplate, with drainage incorporated for obvious reasons (monkey waste). Perhaps the simians filled the vacant role of children to the childless couple?

Furniture, art and light were an integral part of Wright’s conceptual philosophy, creating compositions that functioned as a cohesive whole. As such, he would have most likely despised the ornate Victorian bed in the second floor bedroom. Wright’s leaded glass cathedral-style windows or “light screens” as the architect called them, fill the room with light. They’re not the intricate geometric stained glass affairs he was famous for elsewhere, as, out here in the countryside, he didn’t want to obscure the beauty of the natural view. 

The house’s grounds lead down to the Fox River.

Fabyan’s Animal Kingdom 

In addition to that trio of monkeys, a menagerie of animals lived on the estate, including Cayman alligators, a pair of black bears (named Tom and Jerry after a popular Midwestern milk punch served at the holidays), cows and dogs. A bear cage remains southwest of the garden, and according to local lore, loaves of bread were baked in the basement of the windmill to feed Fabyan’s pet bears. 

Japanese gardens were a craze with the elite in the early 1900s, and the Fabyans added a lovely one to Riverbank.

Turning Japanese: The Fabyan Japanese Garden

Awaiting visitors outside and just beyond the villa are the Japanese gardens and rose arbor, which lead from the bottom of the slope at the rear of the villa down to the banks of the Fox River. After the Japanese embassy created a garden for the 1893 World’s Fair, they became a status symbol among the wealthy. 

The Fabyans’ gardens were built between 1910 and 1913 by landscape architect Issei Taro Otsuka, a Japanese immigrant gardener who later redesigned the 1893 Wooded Island in Jackson Park for the Century of Progress International Exposition, the second world’s fair hosted by Chicago.

The gardens were closed on our visit, but we were able to see the torii gate, traditionally found at the entrance of a Shinto shrine and demarcating the passage from the earthly to the sacred. The gardens looked beautiful from afar, with conifer pine trees, traditional stone lanterns and a graceful curved bridge reflected in the pond beneath it. 

Although Fabyan didn’t serve in the armed services, he was given the honorary title of colonel by Illinois Governor Richard Yates out of gratitude for his public service work after Fabyan allowed the National Guard to use the estate as a training ground — and from that time on, George was known as Colonel Fabyan. He also received Japan’s Order of the Rising Sun, a decoration of honor awarded for his invaluable participation in peace negotiations with Japanese emissaries, a few of whom stayed on the property when the Colonel and Nelle hosted them. 

Riverbank Laboratories, owned by Fabyan, conducted acoustic research and later became instrumental in codebreaking.

Codebreaking at Riverbank Laboratories: Birth of the NSA

The Fabyan estate also carried on extensive scientific research, with greenhouses where they would grow exotic plants and conduct genetic experiments. Across the street from the villa is Riverbank Laboratories. This was Fabyan’s think tank. He was interested in subjects as diverse as acoustics and, perhaps the Colonel`s most famous legacy, the cryptology laboratory.

The acoustics laboratory, which is still in operation today, was built around an ultra-quiet test chamber for the study of soundwaves and was designed by the top acoustics expert in the country, Professor Wallace Sabine of Harvard University. 

One of the Colonel’s odder obsessions was a belief that Sir Francis Bacon was the true author of some (or even all) of Shakespeare’s literary works, and that Bacon had left coded messages within the plays and sonnets. Fabyan hired Elizabeth Wells Gallup, a scholar and author of The Bi-literal Cypher of Sir Francis Bacon, to decipher a binary alphabet to reveal secret messages in the works of Shakespeare. 

Fabyan was convinced that there were clues in Shakespeare’s plays that revealed that their true author was actually Sir Francis Bacon.

Gallup’s team included Elizebeth and William Friedman, who spent years honing their cryptology skills researching the Bard’s works using Bacon’s ciphers. Though largely inconclusive, their efforts weren’t entirely in vain: The couple was instrumental in breaking codes and ciphers during World War I and World War II. Because the U.S. military didn’t yet have a dedicated department devoted to codebreaking, Fabyan’s Riverbank Laboratories ended up being the foundation for the NSA, the National Security Agency.

Fabyan was quite proud of his windmill. Make sure you cross the Fox River and check it out.

Over the River to the Windmill

In 1914, Fabyan purchased a Dutch-style windmill for $8,000 from Yorktown, Illinois, about 20 miles from its current location, and spent around $75,000 reconstructing it on the east bank of the Fox River. The windmill stands at an impressive 68 feet high and was originally built by Louis Blackhaus, a German immigrant and craftsman, between 1850 and 1860. 

But it was mainly a toy for Fabyan, who enjoyed showing it off to his Chicago friends. In 1979, the windmill was listed on the National Register of Historic Places, and the following year, it was selected to be on a U.S. postage stamp as part of a series in a booklet called Windmills USA. 

Look for the fun Egyptianate benches on the lawn.

Preserving the Legacy of the Fabyan Villa and Forest Preserve

George died in 1936 and Nelle in 1939, and because they had no offspring, the Forest Preserve District of Kane County purchased the majority of the estate and opened the residence as a museum the following year. Starting in 1995, the nonprofit PPFV was enlisted to maintain and provide tours of the historic dwelling. The house was added to the National Registerof Historic Places in 1984. 

The four of us had a wonderful time wandering the paths that cross the bucolic park-like setting of the historic estate, with plenty of photo opportunities along the way. It’s an easy drive (just over 40 minutes from Chicago) and it’s remarkable to consider the lasting scientific achievements that germinated from the Fabyans’ private research center. If you’re looking for a fun place to visit that combines architecture and nature, the Fabyan Villa is open for tours from May to October. –Duke

 

Fabyan Villa Museum & Japanese Garden

Fabyan Forest Preserve
1925 South Batavia Avenue
Geneva, Illinois, USA