- The John Crellin House, 1867
One of the centerpieces of Oysterville is the John Crellin House. For most of my life it was known as the Heckes House as that was the family who had lived there for several generations. Many people call it the Bottle House because of Helen Heckes’ bottle collection. Some of those bottles still glint in the street-side windows. Now that we are a National Historic District, it is called by the original owner’s name as are all of the residences in town.
The house was built in 1867 using plans that the owner brought from his native Isle of Man. Two years later his brother Tom built the house down the street – ‘our house’ these days. He used the same plans, so originally our houses were ‘twins.’ Changes to both have occurred over the years, but basically they are still enough alike that their relationship shows.
The Crellins were oystermen in the very early days and did business with my great-grandfather, R. H. Espy. Our families still are still in touch with one another after all these 150 years. Perhaps that is why the deteriorating condition of the John Crellin House tugs at my heartstrings. Watching it go downhill feels a lot like watching an aged family member slip away. The difference, of course, is that the house could be saved. Potentially, its lifespan is infinite, at least in comparison with the mortals who have loved it.
The Oysterville community clucks and clacks about it. In recent years, even visitors ask about it – who owns it? Do they ever come to Oysterville? Why are they letting it go downhill? Why don’t they sell it if they can’t take care of it? Don’t they care?
Several months ago, the owner was in town and came over for a visit. We’ve known one another for a long time and so, though in the strictest sense it’s none of my business, I asked some of those very questions. I was told in no uncertain terms that they love the house, that they have no intention of ever selling, and that it is in great shape. No problems, not even the roof.
If I were to go back to my ‘aged relative’ analogy, I’d say that there was a lot of denial going on there. So what is the answer? An intervention… for a house? And to what end? Unfortunately, there is no angel waiting in the wings to swoop in and solve the problem… even if the owners would allow it. It is a dilemma of major proportions.
My father was friends with the Heckes family and we were invited to dinner on a couple of occasions by Helen. I must have only been about 5 or so, but I still can remember that I marveled at the painted ceiling in the dining room, Helen’s lovely china and of course, the beautiful front room with the fireplace and of course those wonderful bottles that used to be in the window. Even though I only live as far away as Chinook, I enjoy a drive to Oysterville from time to time and love to stop and gaze at the Heckes House.
I hope it gets some loving care soon.
Judy Heckes Stamp and I went through the house with visitors and the owner when there were several “open houses” in Oysterville, about 8 or so years ago. All the interior was painted white, which looked very modern for the lovely old place. The newest area, a great room, had been changed to a door opening to a patio or deck facing Willapa Bay, and kitchen had been greatly improved in the SW corner of that rectangular room. While working, the cook could enjoy the bay view and anyone in the great room. I liked that part.
The most beautiful room of the house, the state dining room, had been changed to stark white paint over the dark, very dramatic wallpaper; three original tall wavy-glass windows appeared fake, where before they had reeked beauty.
We went into the parlor, but I don’t remember it now, then up the stairs to 3 bedrooms. Two long narrow closets had belonged to the 2 east bedrooms, one flat up against the other, opening into its own room. The closets had been removed and a bathroom built there. I was so amazed when I saw it, I simply had to squat down onto the toilet lid. As I looked east out the window, down at the field, I could have waved at anyone walking by—the window was built in the bottom half of the wall, not the top! And there was no curtain that I remember!
As we approached Judy’s old bedroom, she whispered to me, “I sure hope they repapered it. I always hated that!”
And, as if on cue, he told our little group, “And now for my favorite room, because I just love this wallpaper.” He opened the door, and sure enough, it was the same huge flowers Judy and I remembered.
Judy groaned.
I was sorry to see the garage, originally the annex with 2 bedrooms upstairs and 2 down, fall to pieces. That’s where the fairies used to leave chocolates on the window sill for us after we were good and took our naps. Our Irish aunts/grandmas could get the fairies to do whatever needed to be done…