I come from a small town. I don’t live there anymore, but I visit frequently. And by “small town” I mean a town where the number of trees is about 10,000 times the number of inhabitants. My parents’ house is surrounded by trees on all sides. I don’t know who their neighbors are. I moved into that house when I was 13 and moved out of it when I was 21, and as Meryl Streep oh-so-cunningly put it in Death Becomes Her (how I love that terrible film), “Have you ever seen a neighbor?”
I get a lot of good-natured kidding from my friends, and from David (who is from one of the largest cities in MA outside of Boston and Springfield), about how there is only one stoplight in the entire “town”, and how there’s one “general store”, and how the entire town went apeshit when we got *gasp* a Dunkin Donuts in 2007. And most of the time, I think it’s as funny as everyone else.
But yesterday, I got the chance to go visit a genuine “ghost town” within an obscure hamlet across the river from my hometown. It was a really neat experience and I’m glad I was able to go, and take the pictures.
In the 1960′s, a self-made millionaire called Raymond Schmitt bought 640 acres of land a few miles from the banks of the Connecticut River. The land had previously been used as for a water-powered mill. Scmitt, who was obsessed with anything from the Victorian period, set about making a beautiful Victorian-inspired “village”, which he named Johnsonville after the street that ran through it (Johnsonville Street). The “village” of Johnsonville, when completed, boasted three Victorian homes with gardens, two old-fashioned steamboats, a riverhouse, and a little white chapel built in the 1870s, called the “Gilead Chapel.” All of the buildings were furnished with beautiful Victorian antiques that were all part of Schmitt’s private collection.
Grounds of Johnsonville.
From the 1960′s until 1994, Schmitt opened Johnsonville to the public free of charge. Visitors were allowed to walk the streets and gardens and go right into the beautiful houses. Brides and grooms clamored to be married in the Gilead Chapel, and held receptions at the riverhouse (both cost an additional fee).
- Side view of the Gilead Chapel in Johnsonville
One of my earliest memories of childhood is going to Johnsonville at Christmastime when I was about four or five years old. My mother took my sister Christina and I, and I remember walking the streets of the little village (along with dozens of other people) and peeking into the windows of the decorated houses. One room was lit up with an eerie green light, and through the window, you could see Ebenezer Scrooge working at his counting house desk. A sign that said “Bah! Humbug!” was hung over the door. On the roof of another house, three of Santa’s elves were posed strategically as they aided Santa in piling presents down the chimney. I wish I could remember more, but I was really only a very little girl at the time.
White Victorian house in Johnsonville
Unfortunately, in 1994, the magic of Johnsonville came to an abrupt end. Schmitt had an ongoing rivalry with town officials — he felt that since he contributed so much to the beauty of the town, without charging the public anything, he should be allowed to do as he pleased. He was caught trying to build another man-made lake on the property without obtaining a zoning contract, and ordered to cease-and-desist. Angered, Schmitt announced that he was closing Johnsonville. He boarded up the roads and put “No Trespassing” signs on all of the buildings. That summer, without warning, he canceled all weddings that were to be held in the chapel, and all receptions at the riverhouse, leaving countless couples furious and scrambling for new venues. That Christmas, when my family and I drove through Johnsonville, we saw there were no decorations. The town was completely dark.
Newspapers hinted that Schmitt was hoping that the town officials would back down, that Johnsonville would eventually reopen. But in 1996, Schmitt died suddenly of cancer. Johnsonville made the press that year when his relatives announced that they were putting the whole of the land, and all of the antiques within, up for auction. All of the beautiful furnishings, including the two steam boats, were sold in a matter of days (Martha Stewart being one of the celebrities who called in her bids over the phone). But the land and buildings, estimated at a value of $1.6 million, was declared “priced too low” by Scmitt’s family, and remained unsold.
Throughout the 1990′s and early 2000′s, several prospectors inspected the land at the idea of levelling the beautiful houses and putting up luxury homes, but the cost of installing new septic tanks, coupled with the undesirable location (too far off the main roads of the town), resulted in the Johnsonville projects being left abandoned. To this day, the owners of the property remain largely unknown.
Front of the Gilead Chapel today. Note the "No Trespassing" sign on the door.
Today, Johnsonville is abandoned and boarded up. Every house boasts at least two or three “No Trespassing” signs. The old dirt paths that lead through the town are closed off with signs and bars, so you can only drive down the main road (where some people actually do still live). The residents of Johnsonville Street don’t take kindly to visitors; during my 10 minute-stay, as I tried to take pictures, I had three people speed up and swerve passive-aggressively towards me on the side of the road. Apparently they just want to be left in peace; I’m sure I’m not the only person who drives by slowly, wondering “what happened to Johnsonville?”
The beautiful Victorian buildings and chapel have chicken wire over all of the windows, and the doors are locked. Paint is peeling, shutters hang by threads, and vines and weeds grow over steps and walls. One of the old barns has completely fallen to pieces over the years; it’s been left in a heap behind one of the white Victorian houses.
Yet the beauty of the old town is still so obvious. I couldn’t help but think of all the disappointed brides and grooms whose weddings were canceled here. I can’t imagine how they must have felt. I also felt a little regret, that access to the town is so restricted, because how awesome would a TTD photo shoot be here?
Line of trees in the field inside of Johnsonville. Note the white picket fence that separates the main road from the interior village of Johnsonville.
It’s beautiful, and so sad. There is so little real historic beauty left. One can’t help wishing that somehow, someday, this “ghost town” would be resurrected again.
