A night at the old mansion
I continued my nocturnal exploration of the old abandoned house. Having checked out the ground floor, I carefully ascended the main stairway. Being that this was a very decrepit looking house, I wondered if the floorboards were rotted and if I might be in danger of falling thru. But the stairs, despite having much of the railing missing, seemed quite sturdy. I walked gingerly around on the second floor, captivated by the high ceilings and huge fireplaces. Peeling paint was everywhere, on the walls, ceilings and doors. I shined my light down at the floor beneath my tennis shoe clad feet. Wide, thick planks of wood stretched across entire rooms, scratched and worn but otherwise intact. Realizing I was alone, I jumped up and down, and I found that the ancient looking flooring was perfectly solid. Then, having explored the upper story to my satisfaction, I made my way downstairs, and then into the basement. This area was essentially a dirt floored root cellar, with a set of stairs leading down into it. The fieldstone foundation was most visible from this vantage point, and I could see the hand cut timbers that supported the floor above me.
I looked at my watch, and noticed that the hour was getting late. I went back out the way I came in, and shimmied under the fence. But I knew that I would have to come back, and this time, I’d be bringing my camera. Still, I was afraid to appear at the house during the daylight, so I waited until there was a full moon and a clear night for my first photo session with the old mansion. I stopped again after night class, and I worked quickly in the dark, setting up mostly outside shots with long exposures. Eventually I got up the nerve to go there during the day and shoot some more pictures. As I was just beginning my junior year, I was still working in black and white, which lent itself well for the subject matter I had chosen. There was little color to the house, as the much of the paint had faded or flaked off from the clapboard siding. What was left was a dull bluish grey, although there were parts of the house where it looked like someone had started to repaint it. Over the course of that fall and winter, I’d visit the house ever so often. And I was also inspired to discover the history of the place, and so I spent time researching land records and dusty archives in the county historical society. In those days there was no internet, no search engines, only paper documentation. I had also spoken to the unofficial town historian, who was in her late 80’s at the time. I managed to question someone who had recently lived in the house, who filled me in on its recent history before its abandonment.
The house was known as Bloomfield Manor, and the original part of the house dated back to the late 18th century. The second addition was added around 1840, and the final, and most elaborate part of home was built in 1857. In its history it had served as a summer resort for people looking to escape the heat of Baltimore, and then later it was owned by a captain in the Union army. It had a few different owners in the 20th century, and at some point it was divided up into apartments. This was the most recent use of the building.
As winter turned into spring, and my junior year was drawing to a close, I could not help but think about the eventual fate of Bloomfield. I began to see it like Charlie Brown’s Christmas tree. Something sad and in rough shape, that which no one else seemed to want. Surely it was destined to be demolished, but the presence of that fencing around it led me to believe that might not be in the plan.