One Man’s Treasure Is … A Nice Way Of Putting It

We began what we affectionately called The Big Sort almost immediately upon closing. This task was not for the faint of heart, since all 5,000 sq. ft. of the main house was packed to the gills with stuff—everything from old check stubs and dry-cleaning receipts to antique brass beds and a vintage children’s seesaw. It wasn’t so much that the former owner was a hoarder, more that he never threw anything out, and since he had led such an interesting life, he had amassed a lot of material. For example, there were probably close to 1,000 envelopes containing 6 x 4 photos developed at Duane Reade in New York—from the days when cameras took films with 24 exposures, and it was cheaper to order a double set of prints upfront than to select specific images to reproduce later. Photos of everything from a big 4th July barbecue with extended family and friends to a more intimate gathering on the front lawn when the former owner eloped to Aston Magna and got married on the estate in a private ceremony.

The Big Sort was such a large undertaking that it required its own village. A huge shout out goes to Hugo, Foreman Extraordinaire, who, with three colleagues, carried boxes upon boxes upon boxes from the attic to the living room where I, and for a long weekend my sister and First Mate, Lucy, sorted the contents into three piles: keep, give away and toss. We strategically placed a dumpster beneath the side porch, and literally threw things out the window—it was both fun and cathartic at the same time. The project took almost three months to complete, and although we uncovered and preserved a handful of treasures, we also unearthed and created a mountain of trash.

This entry in The Log describes the final day of the Big Sort. The culmination of three months’ work, and the day we officially cleared the attic and readied it for construction. When I say attic, this is a gross understatement for what was really the entire second floor of the main house. The original servants’ quarters: a rabbit warren of interconnecting and creepy cells off corridors that led to even darker and creepier spaces under the eaves of the roof. 

The project took almost three months to complete, and although we uncovered and preserved a handful of treasures, we also unearthed and created a mountain of trash.

Here too did we find evidence of the former owner’s girlfriend’s obsession with locks and lost keys, and we had to break down several closet doors to open them, only to retrieve items like a set of rat-infested electric blankets from the 1970s and a box of Borax, Nature’s Freshener that was way past its sell by date — decades past to be precise. The main attic above the library and guest bedroom comprised a large, vaulted space that had been crammed with everything including an actual porcelain kitchen sink that looked like it belonged in a maid’s room. The attic roof was clad in some bizarre insulation made from flattened cardboard boxes, that based on the nibble marks, appeared to be a popular snack choice for the rodents and other vermin who lived behind the walls. 

Some of the other attic rooms contained filing cabinets that were filled to the brim with paperwork from commercial real estate deals and closings that Lee had worked on over his 40-year career as an attorney. In one file cabinet, I discovered some original correspondence between Lee Elman and George Soros from the early 1990s, where they discussed a plan to sub-divide Mr. Soros’ Great Barrington farm into seven land parcels, one of which ended up being the house we bought and flipped the year before. Yet another coincidence to add to the list! 

However, the day’s activity was significant not only because it marked the physical end of the sorting, but also because it officially closed the chapter of it being Lee’s house. 

Therefore, it came as no surprise to us that on the final day, we found items that provided a fitting tribute to the former owner — the ultimate Man About Town circa 1970. It was as if Lee had carefully curated a selection of items to showcase who he was and how he wanted to be remembered. A subscription to International Male magazine and a copy of the American Explorer’s Club Journal, a hub cap from his Excalibur Phantom, a classic toy helicopter that added a hint of whimsy to his mahogany veneer desk and green leatherette sofa, and the ultimate pair of Rolodex address books — labeled Business and Pleasure. The Pleasure dome contained the numbers of women who were also featured in a large photo album titled “Lee’s Ladies.” I kid you not. I don’t know whether to feel horrified or impressed by his brazenness. Finally, because no American country gentleman would feel complete without a firearm at his side, we found a loaded shotgun and some cartridges, stashed under a pile of papers without so much as a hint of a safety catch or any form of security measure. Proof I guess that Lee’s girlfriend never made it into this room with the locksmith.

To infinity and beyond.

Over and out.