Pat Dougherty

May 21, 1970

They call it the ghost house- -the rambling weathered structure at 4000 East Ave, Pittsford, its pointed portico just visible from the road.  

But if indeed it be haunted, as it is likely, it is inhabited by a gracious, gentle ghost whose old-world courtesy is as beckoning as it is ethereal.

At this time of the year, the lilac bushes framing the doorway are heavy with bloom, and falling blossoms from crab-apple and dogwood blow through broken, dusty windows, carpeting the empty rooms.

Within this shell of a guest-house (Inn), once the occasional retreat of President Theodore Roosevelt and illustrious figures of the 1900s, is a story of a maiden-lady, her learned brother – a man of culture and distinction, and a mysterious caretaker, who may have been the last to know the whereabouts of a treasure of paintings, antiques and rare books.

Surrounded by 12 acres of woods and gardens, still cultivated but growing back to nature faster than they can be maintained, the three-story, weathered shingled building adjoins the home site of the late Guy E. Manley, who died last week at 84.

When the structure was built, no one seems to know. But old-time residents can remember from their childhood when lanterns shone from the tops of the ornately-carved stone posts, which illuminated the paths and roadways winding through the wooded property. 

And they can remember the sounds of a piano being played expertly, attesting to the artistry of Andrew Van Dyck, who shared the estate with his sister Laura for the first three decades of the 1900s.

When the property was purchased by Mr. Manley in 1936, it had fallen into disuse and some disrepair. Residing in the main homestead, the Manley’s considered the Inn as an interesting curiosity but made no specific use of it.

Father knew every room of the structure,” said Mr. Manley’s daughter Mrs. Edna Shepley-Shepley, who is visiting here from Scotland, where she has lived since her marriage. “He loved this land and everything on it,” she continued, and always wanted to restore the Inn but never did.  Still he wouldn’t think of demolishing it or changing it in any intrinsic way.”

Ledgers and records still are stacked on one of the deserted upstairs rooms, as are some children’s toys, an old desk and some empty luggage. Dated 1929, the records concern the late Mr. Manley’s affairs as President of E.P. Reed Shoe Co. But in the same room speaking for another era is the casing of an old victrola a rusty crank connected to its side and the certain suggestion of waltzes in the delicate carving along its edge.

During the quarter century that VanDyck and his sister maintained the guest-house (Inn), while living in the colonial home nearby, Short Hills was a popular but unpublicized retreat for prominent statesmen, artists, civic leaders and their friends, who spent many an evening around the tiled fireplaces in the paneled lobby or lounged on the stone terraces in the summer, beneath massive trees whose branches now brush the crumbling screens of upstairs sleeping porches. 

Bespeaking Victorian elegance in every detail, from its porcelain baths to the now paper-thin damask covering lining the stairwells short hills contained 26 apartments nearly as many baths bedroom fireplaces porches and verandas and a solarium which picked up the morning sun. 

Each stairwell of the two upper stories lead to a catacomb of rooms, the main door of each apartment carrying a small brass number as a guide of the guests of the past.

A small building nearby was the stable, with stalls for three horses. A pair of dusty blinders with a section of harness still hangs by the grill-enclosed window, and a real (or imagined) equine aroma mixes with the scent of lilacs. 

But through the years, the Inn found other occasional uses, with the cedar-paneled lobby serving as a garage for family automobiles, lawnmowers, and garden furniture.  Still visible in the corner is an old sleigh, orange rust covering its curved runners and black horsehair seat frazzled with ancient use.  Behind a stack of newspapers and an old foot-treadle sewing machine is the fireplace with heavy pair of andirons, so much a part of the hearth that through the years, they have never been moved. 

The story of Andrew Van Dyck, gleaned from newspaper clippings in the local history office of the Rochester Public Library, is as shrouded with dust as an old piano in the foyer of the one-time Guest House (Inn). 

Acclaimed as an accomplished musician, he was graduated from the University of Rochester in 1872, and after five years of teaching at the State Institute for the Blind in Batavia, turned to the study of law.  

He specialized in research combining the career with an interest in antiques and old books, and soon became a partner in the old Abstract Guarantee Co., with offices in the Rochester Savings Bank building. In the course of extensive traveling, he collected rare paintings, and bookstand antiques which one newspaper attributed worth of $150,000 – an accumulation which he stored at Short Hills.  

Upon his death, in November 1930, his maiden sister Laura, moved from the colonial home to smaller quarters in the guest-house (Inn) and was aided in the upkeep of the properties by a caretaker named Harry Love. (His name late was to appear in legal actions as Henry Love Bennett).

With the depression years, Short Hills fell on hard times and the Inn’s prominence declined. By the time of Miss VanDyck’s death in 1938, the properties had been sold to satisfy a bank mortgage and the trove of paintings, books, and antiques had mysteriously disappeared. 

Subsequent actions were taken by creditors and distant family members to regain some of the Van Dyck wealth from the estate, but all efforts failed. A codicil in Miss Van Dyck’s will had specified that her caretaker Harry Love should have first claim upon many of the material assets; including paintings, but later investigations and judgments against him failed to locate any of the legendary art collection.

“I can remember, as a child walking through the woods around the house” said Mrs. Edwards Slocum of 230 Alpine Dr., who has lived on adjoining property much of her life. “we would ski down the slopes around it, and a generation later, our children did too.  Mrs Edward J. Hart of 18 Rand Pl, Pittsford historian, recalls the stone posts with their ceramic toppings which lighted the paths whose perimeters still are visible through the creeping vegetation. “And I seem to remember a lady named Laura Van Dyck and a caretaker, a Mr. Love, I think”

Their memories, however, reside in the past and are different from the recollections which will be held by this generation of children who refer to Short Hills as the “ghost house.” Though they have ventured into its interior many a time, seeking high adventure, they must have sensed a need for respect since not a single scribble defaces the old walls.

Perhaps more than the guest-house (Inn)  itself they will remember thick ivy and woods, overgrown terraces and strange stone pillars-and, an aura of gentility surrounding a place of mystery – the secret garden of a forgotten childhood.