Old Things Considered: The Rest of the Story on Frances Lurman

"Barbie, you’re doomed!” Now is this any way to wake up your beloved? Well, they were the first words out of Ken’s mouth the other morning. “Someone just wrote about Frances Lurman on The Patch,” he said, steering me in the direction of our computer. And at first, it appeared he was correct – about the doomed part. Hadn’t I just typed out a Pulitzer-worthy blog (do they give Pulitzers for blogs?) about the old gal who used to call “Farmlands” home? The very same woman who was once named one of Baltimore’s fairest?

Yes, I had.

And hadn’t I made note of the fact that she died two years after the old homestead fell victim to the wreckers’ ball (that’s what happens when you don’t produce an heir) to make way for a new high school (that would be Catonsville High School)? I had declared it a shame to destroy what was, from all accounts, a very gracious place. And I had pointed out how the woods she once loved are now open to a variety of musical entertainers (and their followers) who show up every summer weekend, munching on hot dogs, schmoozing with the neighbors, and acquiring mosquito bites.

Ah, but there’s so much more to the story.  The juicy part.

We all know that Fanny (to her friends) had declared she would never marry, only to change her mind at the last minute. But, as it turns out, our girl wasn’t just sitting out here in the Baltimore ‘burbs, holding Daddy’s hand in his dotage. Oh, no. She had a major BF, a significant other, back in the day. A very rich BF.  And I’m talking a long-term serious romance, not just a fling. Henry Mercer was the name of the gentleman in question, and in certain circles (okay, people who pay attention to antiques and pottery and such), he still commands considerable respect. He lived in a house he called “Fonthill Castle,” which, it turns out, is not an exaggeration by any stretch of the imagination. This place looked like something out of the “Enchanted Forest,” but instead of being made of plaster of Paris over chicken wire, his multi-story mansion was constructed of poured concrete. It would take a bomb to bring it down.

But this fortress is notable for aesthetic reasons, not just the fact that the earth will never see the end of it. Because Henry was extravagantly wealthy, he dabbled, as any rich guy is wont to do. Being a fan of the Arts and Crafts Movement at the turn-of-the-century, he built the Moravian Pottery and Tileworks out back (hey, doesn’t everyone?). And it was here that exquisite ceramics were created (well, they still are, to some degree, using the old molds). Some of the coolest stuff produced on the premises was architecturally incorporated into the detail work of Henry’s castle, and it all remains there to this day, a testimony to the fine wares his people were capable of creating.

But that’s not all. Henry loved stuff. Lots of stuff. And because he had lots of money, he collected a ton of really cool things and stashed them in a multi-floor barn, which is now a museum.

Have I piqued your interest yet? If so, block out a day or two and spend some time exploring “Mercer’s Mile,” located in Doylestown, Pennsylvania, only 136.5 miles from the Catonsville Post Office. And meanwhile, ponder this thought: what was Fanny thinking not to marry the guy? I suppose we’ll never know.