05/19/2026
The house was built in 1891 by a wealthy railroad architect named Elias Whitmore, who wanted every inch of the mansion to show elegance and craftsmanship. Locals called it The Blue Crown because of its tall slate towers and deep blue exterior trimmed with ivory woodwork. For decades, the house was alive with music, candlelit parties, and summer gatherings on the wraparound porch.
By the 1920s, the Whitmore family had faded from prominence. After Elias died, the mansion passed through several owners. During the Great Depression, much of the expensive decorative woodwork went unrepaired. In the 1940s, the home was divided into boarding apartments for war workers. The grand ballroom became cramped rooms with thin walls, and many stained-glass windows were boarded over.
In the 1970s, the neighborhood itself began declining. Families moved away, nearby homes were demolished, and the mansion slowly fell apart. Rain leaked through the roof turrets. Paint peeled from the carved trim. Vines climbed the porch columns. Kids in the area believed the house was haunted because lights sometimes flickered inside even though nobody officially lived there.
By 1993, the mansion had become nearly abandoned. The once-beautiful blue paint had faded into gray patches. Parts of the upper balcony sagged dangerously. Several windows were shattered, and entire rooms inside were exposed to weather damage. The city considered condemning the property after a winter storm caused sections of decorative trim to collapse onto the sidewalk. A developer even proposed demolishing it to build parking lots and townhomes.
But a local history teacher named Margaret Vale saw something worth saving. She spent years researching the house’s original blueprints and convincing preservation groups to help. In 2001, a preservation trust finally purchased the property for a symbolic one dollar under the agreement that it would be restored instead of destroyed.
In April 2002, construction began. Workers stripped away decades of damage, uncovering original walnut staircases, hidden fireplaces, and hand-painted ceiling murals beneath layers of dust and cheap paneling. Craftsmen rebuilt the missing trim piece by piece using old photographs as references. The project lasted almost four years and cost far more than expected, but the community slowly became invested in saving the mansion.
By 2006, the house reopened completely restored. Gardens returned to the front walk. The towers were repaired with new slate shingles. The faded gray shell became the rich blue Victorian landmark it once was. Today, in 2026, the mansion stands as one of the most photographed homes in the city — a reminder that something nearly forgotten can still be brought back to life.
