Once upon a time, a man decided to escape the busy city of St. Louis to live out more quiet years with his family. After purchasing 137 acres of land in 1880, the man set out to build a caretaker's cottage, a tower, a barn, stables, greenhouses for his beloved plant specimens, and a three story Romanesque Revival mansion. The man's name was Daniel Sidney Brown, and his home was "Brownhurst". Sadly, he and his family occupied the residence until 1918 when it was sold to the Society of Mary. This later becoming the land owned by present day Vianney. They were the only family to ever occupy the house.
Fast forward to 1987/88. A curious boy looks out the back side window of his parents blue minivan on the way to his grandparents house. He is captivated by the place, but with little interest other than curiosity. Throughout the years that followed, interest turned into fascination. What was that place he saw? Who lived there? When was it built? Wild imaginings flew through the boys head. Thoughts that someday he would go to the house and ask to see the inside. To meet the owners and find out evrything he could. This house was the foundation of his love for old homes, his respect for them and the lives that had inhabited them. His fixation with historical architecture. A fixation that, even to this day, thrives in his mind. At a very early age, the boy wanted to become...not an astronaut, or a fireman, or a police officer, ...but an architect of buildings like this one. To one day buy the home and make it his own. When he finally got his drivers license, he wasted no time going to the home. As it would turn out, there was no cheery couple in ownership of the grand old dwelling, but a Catholic boys school. Using the place for storage. The dean was gracious enough to allow the boy inside to see the place. He was given a key and told to be careful.
What a great time it was, exploring the mansion. So many rooms, fireplaces, staircases. Beautiful details and a spooky atmosphere. After leaving the home and returning the key, the boy was told the drafting teacher had copies of the floorplans. What a great discovery! The teacher allowed copies of these so long as the boy kept them to himself. And he has kept that promise, more or less. Everyone he knew closely, he took and showed them the house. He even got a job at the WalMart across the street just to be close to the house. It was the very thing he knew would always be there come rain or shine. The boy grew into a man, moved away, then moved back. There the place stood, solid as ever.
A couple years down the road, the man tried going into the home again to take pictures. This time he was turned away. The house was in very poor condition and was declared unsafe inide. Despite the man's promises of safety, was still denied access. A few more years went by. The damage and deterioration was showing on the exterior of the home. But that only caused the man to care more about it. To him, it was in pain. It was the dog left out in the rain by its careless owner.
The man moved away again. This time he was gone a long time. When he returned to Missouri for his grandfather's funeral, he took a day to show his father a few sites he had loved. This was the last place they visited. they took a few pictures, walked about the exterior. The next day, the man boarded a plane and flew back home.
The following year, the man decided to take his fiance home to meet his family. While on his trip, they went by the old familiar places. Schools, stores, even his childhood home. And Brownhurst. The man drove a special way around the storefronts on Lindbergh Blvd, explaining there was a great surprise hidden from view behind these buildings... even made his fiance guess what they would find.
He was excited, anxious, eager... it had been so long since he had seen the second love of his life. The one thing that had lasted through it all. He felt like a boy again, peering out of the minivan window at the stone and shingle monolith. They rounded the corner of the last store front and the man announced happily "Here it is! Brownhurs....." His voice trailed off and choked. He slowed the car to a stop. Tears welled up in his eyes. He looked frantically at the space before him, blinking as if his eyes deceived him. His life, his friend, his love... was gone. All that lay before him was an empty lot.
A part of him died that day. A big part. And all the man has left is half of the home's history, some battered floorplans, and a small handful of poorly composed pictures. And there is nothing to fill the void left behind.
