It was January 2008 in Waxahachie, Texas. A long-time friend and I decided to purchase a late 1800s house to live in and run a "special event" business, such as small gatherings for special occasions. This home was once owned by a prominent banker in town. It was built for him and his family, which consisted of three daughters and his wife, plus servants.
The house was three stories with conical towers on either end of the second and third floors.
A magnificent property at one time with over 10,000 square feet to roam around in. It also still had a carriage house in back, plus a cistern well for household water out back. Since it had been sitting empty, according to neighbors, for several years, this house was in need of much work to make it inhabitable.
With that said, I did manage to get the info needed to contact the people that had been paying the property taxes, which were out of state. In contact with them I was told they had inherited it from a male relative who inherited it from one of the original ladies that lived there. The man was this lady's houseman and she willed it to him when she passed on. He barely took care of the place as he too was old and not well himself.
Since his passing, the family did not know what to do with such a large home on five acres. They did manage to subdivide some of it and sell off two acres in the rear of the house, which originally had a pond and glass greenhouse. The pond was filled in and the glass greenhouse dismantled.
Nevertheless, the property was looking abandoned, even though they paid someone to care for the grounds while they lived out of state. They seemed so pleased that I called regarding the purchase of that house from them. We visited the house on numerous occasions, many times with various contractors, the city, etc. in order to make it a fair deal for all concerned.
The house was truly magnificent! It had 10 fireplaces and three bathrooms, which for the time it was built was really innovative, considering this place was built in 1895. But the man/owner was wealthy and for the time had all the modern conveniences installed.
On my first approach to this place, I was in awe. It had such great bones and for me was very welcoming -- almost like going home to grandma's place. Even my dog (an Italian greyhound) loved it there. The large, deep sweeping front porch that wrapped on both sides of the house with wide-open stairway to the porch welcomed me with open arms. I felt like I came home.
Once I received the key to tour and inspect the house, we would drive down to the house at least three to four times a week. I felt so drawn to this place. My friend, who wanted to do this house and business with me, was just as excited over the prospect of purchasing such a lovely property. Even the city was standing there with open arms to whatever we wanted to do, with their blessings.
One late afternoon around 4:00 p.m., we were all there, including my dog, when we were upstairs roaming this massive house to decide how it would work for our needs. I was across the wide hall and turned around just in time to see my friend at the head of the staircase, ready to step down. As I looked at her, I saw a depression occur in the mid-section of her sweater and actually witnessed her being pushed -- forcefully -- down the first set of steps to the landing. She got up and left the house, and said nothing on the long ride home.
Once home, she backed out of the deal and wanted nothing to do with that house. After reviewing many of the pictures that were taken at every angle for refurbishing purposes, I found an array of "orbs." Also while we were there, I was using a hand-held, voice-activated recorder to record much of what the house needed to have repaired, replaced, and many of my thoughts regarding the re-do of this magnificent structure.
When I was listening to the recorder later, I heard several other voices behind mine. Mostly female and a high-pitched chatter. I could not exactly decipher the words other than one female voicing her opinion: "Nice dog... he can stay, but she has got to go!" I suppose the inference was regarding my female friend who was going to be there with me in that house.
I left.
Months later, I ended up going back to that house just to see if anything came of it. There it was, just standing there like the day I turned my back on it and drove away. Nothing had been done to the place. Nobody else bought it and it just called to me.
I went to the local library to see what I could find on that property. Lo and behold, there was an entire old loose-paged book about it. It was built for the first banker in town and it was indeed one of the most prominent and innovative homes built there at the time. The lady who died there and left it to her houseman was in fact one of the three daughters of the banker who was raised in that house.
By the way, her dad's bank was robbed in the 1930s by Bonnie and Clyde, and the bullet holes are still in the brick of that former bank in town. In reading more about the man himself, I found that he adored dogs and enjoyed music and entertaining in his home. Maybe that is why I felt so compelled to buy this house. He and I were very much alike.
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The house was three stories with conical towers on either end of the second and third floors.
A magnificent property at one time with over 10,000 square feet to roam around in. It also still had a carriage house in back, plus a cistern well for household water out back. Since it had been sitting empty, according to neighbors, for several years, this house was in need of much work to make it inhabitable.
With that said, I did manage to get the info needed to contact the people that had been paying the property taxes, which were out of state. In contact with them I was told they had inherited it from a male relative who inherited it from one of the original ladies that lived there. The man was this lady's houseman and she willed it to him when she passed on. He barely took care of the place as he too was old and not well himself.
Since his passing, the family did not know what to do with such a large home on five acres. They did manage to subdivide some of it and sell off two acres in the rear of the house, which originally had a pond and glass greenhouse. The pond was filled in and the glass greenhouse dismantled.
Nevertheless, the property was looking abandoned, even though they paid someone to care for the grounds while they lived out of state. They seemed so pleased that I called regarding the purchase of that house from them. We visited the house on numerous occasions, many times with various contractors, the city, etc. in order to make it a fair deal for all concerned.
The house was truly magnificent! It had 10 fireplaces and three bathrooms, which for the time it was built was really innovative, considering this place was built in 1895. But the man/owner was wealthy and for the time had all the modern conveniences installed.
On my first approach to this place, I was in awe. It had such great bones and for me was very welcoming -- almost like going home to grandma's place. Even my dog (an Italian greyhound) loved it there. The large, deep sweeping front porch that wrapped on both sides of the house with wide-open stairway to the porch welcomed me with open arms. I felt like I came home.
Once I received the key to tour and inspect the house, we would drive down to the house at least three to four times a week. I felt so drawn to this place. My friend, who wanted to do this house and business with me, was just as excited over the prospect of purchasing such a lovely property. Even the city was standing there with open arms to whatever we wanted to do, with their blessings.
One late afternoon around 4:00 p.m., we were all there, including my dog, when we were upstairs roaming this massive house to decide how it would work for our needs. I was across the wide hall and turned around just in time to see my friend at the head of the staircase, ready to step down. As I looked at her, I saw a depression occur in the mid-section of her sweater and actually witnessed her being pushed -- forcefully -- down the first set of steps to the landing. She got up and left the house, and said nothing on the long ride home.
Once home, she backed out of the deal and wanted nothing to do with that house. After reviewing many of the pictures that were taken at every angle for refurbishing purposes, I found an array of "orbs." Also while we were there, I was using a hand-held, voice-activated recorder to record much of what the house needed to have repaired, replaced, and many of my thoughts regarding the re-do of this magnificent structure.
When I was listening to the recorder later, I heard several other voices behind mine. Mostly female and a high-pitched chatter. I could not exactly decipher the words other than one female voicing her opinion: "Nice dog... he can stay, but she has got to go!" I suppose the inference was regarding my female friend who was going to be there with me in that house.
I left.
Months later, I ended up going back to that house just to see if anything came of it. There it was, just standing there like the day I turned my back on it and drove away. Nothing had been done to the place. Nobody else bought it and it just called to me.
I went to the local library to see what I could find on that property. Lo and behold, there was an entire old loose-paged book about it. It was built for the first banker in town and it was indeed one of the most prominent and innovative homes built there at the time. The lady who died there and left it to her houseman was in fact one of the three daughters of the banker who was raised in that house.
By the way, her dad's bank was robbed in the 1930s by Bonnie and Clyde, and the bullet holes are still in the brick of that former bank in town. In reading more about the man himself, I found that he adored dogs and enjoyed music and entertaining in his home. Maybe that is why I felt so compelled to buy this house. He and I were very much alike.
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