Macon, Georgia: a city for heritage house lovers

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If one can see past the thick-trunked southern magnolia trees, the heritage house-loving Architourist can’t do much better than a stroll down Macon, Ga.’s College Street.

Start at the corner of Georgia Avenue and behold the Raines-Carmichael house (1846-48, and a National Historic Landmark) with its rare cruciform design and Greek revival detailing. Walk north and the street becomes thick with a forest of Ionic, Doric and Corinthian trunks: at No. 340 a neoclassical revival mansion with a yellow brick face (1908); past a few mint julep-worthy front porches and there’s the turreted, gabled and Queen Anne lattice-fest of the Duncan-Rosen-Scherer house (1891).

Cross the street and wander over to Woodliff Street, where two massive, columned mansions at Nos. 195 and 233 both cry out for paint and TLC; over at No. 261, however, the “picturesque movement” is on display with the perfection of the pedimented asymmetry that is the Mead-Cubbedge-Willingham house (1853-54); next door, at No. 275, a curved brick house in the (Charles) Eastlake style (1880-85) which, according to Jonathan Poston in Macon Magazine, was “an artistic, yet restrained style” from England that “eventually spread across the world.”

Sitting on the breezy front porch of my hotel a few buildings away and swirling a stiff, bourbon-based drink, it occurred to me that, for a city of 160,000, Macon punches far above its weight class.

Perhaps that’s because there’s a sense that it’s just waking up to its potential. Walk Macon’s heritage-rich streets – 15 or 20 minutes and your feet will take you almost anywhere – and on one block there are businesses that look unchanged from Jimmy Carter’s administration while, on another, the shops and restaurants pulse with 21st-century electricity.

But, thankfully, that electricity hasn’t translated into overdevelopment. Rather, loft-conversions are contained within old commercial buildings on main streets (we spied at least a half-dozen) and, more importantly, house museums aren’t being thrown into shadows cast by new high rises.

“If this was in Atlanta, well, a developer would’ve demolished it already,” said the burly man as his wife nodded in agreement. Our small group was assembled in the basement of Hay House, waiting for our tour to begin.

After the backstory about wealthy businessman William Butler Johnston, his young wife, and their desire to build an Italian Renaissance revival mansion after a long European honeymoon (completed 1859), our guide, Erin Evans, noted the unusual elevation plan: “It’s actually seven storeys tall and has 18,000 square feet of living space. … We are in the above-ground basement, which is behind the front steps.” Above us, she continued, is the main floor (level two), followed by the third floor with bedrooms; the fourth floor, with its low ceiling and “row of small windows” contained the guest bedrooms. “The fifth floor is attic space, which forms the base of the cupola, halfway up into the cupola is a landing, so we call that the sixth floor; the very tip top, the widow’s walk, [is] the seventh.” (We did the extended tour and went up into the cupola)

As with many of these grand Southern homes, the house passed to Mr. Johnston’s children, and then, by 1926, sold to Parks Lee Hay; Mr. Hay’s widow would live in the house until her death in 1962. Interestingly, the Georgia Trust for Historic Preservation has decided to display some rooms in the Johnston’s “Civil War style” while others are from the Hay’s 1930s or 40s style.

The most impressive room – and indeed the one meant to impress guests – is just behind the 12-foot tall, 500-pound, twin front doors: the “Marble Hall” where, said Ms. Evans, “the only real marble is the floor” and the rest was painted by an artist. The Hay family, apparently, didn’t even know it was there; it was discovered during a 1990s restoration under multiple layers of paint and, thankfully, protected by a coat of varnish.

Located just a three minute walk around a street corner, “Cannonball House” is Macon’s other must-see piece of antebellum architecture. Built as a retirement home by Judge Asa Holt in 1853, it takes its name from the Union army cannonball the entered the parlor and landed, unexploded, in the hallway in 1864. It was the only Macon residence to be damaged during the Civil War.

While less grand than Hay house, we enjoyed the two parlors, both furnished by Wesleyan (Female) College sororities, the Philomathean Society and the Adelphean Society (as often happens, much of the original furniture was sold off). Here, too, trompe l’oeil has camouflaged Georgia pine to look like marble baseboards or mahogany doors. The veining on the marble, said our tour guide, was painted “with the tip of a turkey feather.”

In addition to the bedrooms upstairs, “Lizzie’s Art Gallery” is quite interesting (by Lizzie Canning, the last family member to live in the house in the 1960s) and, in the backyard, the standalone brick kitchen and servant’s quarters.

While Shauntelle and I did a little architectural driving tour based on the Macon Magazine article – my two favourites were the city’s “only remaining grouping of antebellum row houses” at 931-945 Walnut St. (1855) and the Beaux Arts library (1916) at 1180 Washington Ave. – we found it far more interesting to walk the oldest parts of town and read the heritage plaques on the buildings or, underfoot, the old terrazzo ‘aprons’ with long-gone retail store names. And while streets conform to a grid, there are a few walker’s surprises: Cotton Avenue slices a diagonal from 2nd Street to Plum Street; at one end we found the Otis Redding Foundation, a small but cool museum and, at the other, H&H Soul Food Restaurant, which was opened in 1959 by Inez Hill and Louise Hudson, who fed the Allman Brothers in the late-1960s and early-1970s.

We also enjoyed the trio of streets with wide, park-like medians – 3rd, Poplar and Mulberry streets – since the annual Cherry Blossom Festival events were taking place. Sadly, we were so busy we didn’t have time to sample any of the pink drinks on offer.

Next week, more Macon, but something quite unexpected: Macon’s mid-century modern architecture.

If You Go…

For Eastern Canadian snowbirds driving to and from Florida on I-75, Macon makes for a wonderful overnight stay. Torontonians, in particular, will get a bit of a Hamilton vibe here – I had the impression that restaurateurs and other small retailers priced out of nearby Atlanta (an hour and 15 minute drive north) have put down roots here instead.

Architecture aficionados will want to stay at either 1842 Inn in order to lazily walk College Street (as we did), or right downtown at Hotel Forty Five, a 1920 office building that was expanded in 1941, which features glorious terrazzo floors and a rooftop bar.

Macon’s restaurant scene is impressive. We had memorable meals at the award-winning Dovetail, Oliver’s Corner Bistro and Kinjo, but this diner-obsessed writer will probably remember his first taste of red-eye gravy at H&H Soul Food more.

While I’m not an Allman Brothers fan, The Big House Museum was expertly curated and a lot of fun.

Nature-lovers must check out the Ocmulgee Mounds in a National Historical Park, a very short drive from downtown. Built by the Mississippians between 900 and 1100 AD, these seven structures did not contain tombs, but rather were platforms to support public buildings or temples.

Macon’s Downtown Visitor’s Center is large, clean, well organized and has very friendly staff.

Note: Portions of Mr. LeBlanc’s trip were paid for by Visit Macon. They did not review or approve this article.