Heritage HOme – Cynthia Reyes

You don’t really own an old house: you take care of it for the next generation.

That’s what Ron has done. And as we walked through the rooms of his home, I felt his deep connection to it.

“I ‘get’ the house,” he said. “And I also feel a connection with the family who lived here.”

“What’s the spirit of this home like?” I asked.

“The house is very nurturing. Not just for me, but also my friends who visit. It’s a very nurturing home.”

“But there were also tragedies”, I said. “Doesn’t that affect the house’s vibe?”

Ron replied: “Most old houses have seen tragedy. But this was also a very happy home. Over the years there were births, christenings, weddings, dinner parties, children playing, picnics on the lawns… And I feel that joy here.”

Acres of land surrounded the Farncomb family home. Fruit, berries and vegetables grew in their garden in the early to mid-1900’s.

I imagine summer days at Ebor House. Children sent to pick cherries and having fun doing it….

Adults picking raspberries a bit more intently….

A family member trying to teach the pet dog new tricks.

check credit for this photo — **B & W Photos from the Jack Gordon and Cecil Carveth collections, Newcastle Village and District Historical Society**

And I imagine wedding parties.

A newspaper story about a wedding at Ebor House in the 1890’s said:

“After the service, which was performed by the rector, the Rev. Canon Farncomb, the wedding party were entertained at a dejeuner given by the bride’s sister, Mrs. Alfred Farncomb, wife of Newcastle’s popular physician.

“… The bride was a picture in her traveling costume of broadcloth, the chapeau stitched and trimmed with grey wings and tie to match. The wedding presents were costly and numerous. A great deal of silver came from friends in England.

“Among the gifts was a massive loving cup, lined with gold, upon which was engraved the family crest, it being an heirloom for many generations; a solid silver teapot, tables, dessert and tea spoons, a silver soup tureen from Dr. and Mrs. Tom Farncomb (Trenton) , a handsome china dinner set from Dr. and Mrs. Alfred Farncomb (Newcastle).”

And another story about another Farncomb wedding:

“….There were vases of pink and white carnations and antirrhinum on the altar and the coloured rays of the afternoon sun streaming through the stained glass windows of nave and chancel made the scene one of entrancing loveliness. ….

…The bride, given in marriage by her uncle… wore a princess dress of white satin brocaded with lilies of the valley in velvet. She wore a long net veil and carried a bouquet of white lilies and carnations. She wore a gold locket, a gift of the groom….

A reception was held at Ebor House, ancestral home of the bride’s maternal forbears.”

Faith and family were important to the Farncombs. Church was a family-affair. Frederick and Jane’s son John was the rector at St. George’s, Alfred taught Sunday school, and Alfred’s wife Hannah was the church organist.

But no family is immune to tragedy. Despite all the success and influence, all the joyful family events, all the involvement with their church, the Farncombs also experienced heartbreaking sorrow.

Click here for Part 5: An event that tested even the strongest faith.

Ever get the impression that this blog is my way of living vicariously through others? That I write stories about people who do things I wish I could do — or used to be able to do?

If so, you’d be partly right.

But what John Garside is doing – almost entirely by himself – blows my mind. And now, as he nears his self-imposed deadline for moving Ann and himself into their house in Prince Edward County, I find myself holding my breath every time a new email comes from John.

Will this be the email where John finally confesses that he needs a break from all this work, and that – promise or no promise – the idea of moving in this spring is ridiculously un-do-able?

But it never is. Not when he has to repair major cracks in the coach house foundation (below). Not when he undertakes the delicate restoration of original ceiling medallions. Not even when he is clearing out the basement.

A lot of the work has been onerous. As for the basement, John says it “was very crowded — 100 years of clutter — and cut up with old wooden partitions etc. This was totally removed by me. 6,300 lbs. of stuff!!”

Right now, John’s working on finishing up the library.

The more John restores the house, the closer he feels to it, and the more he learns about its past. He’s made a few intriguing discoveries. Like the original signatures of the first owner and his young son, written in concrete.

“William W. Bedell,” explains John, “was the father. Willet V. Bedell was his only son. The boy would have been only 7 or 8 years old when he did it.”

Sadly, Willet died as a young man. It was during the First World War, “on a Troop Ship in 1917 en route to France”.

The second family to own the house were the Wards, though John doesn’t yet know who exactly “Envers” was. There’s still a lot to learn about the home’s history.