“Why are these blasted basement windows covered with brown paper so I can’t see in?”
When getting to know Wilpen in 2006 when I moved in one of the oddities I had noticed was that there were three above ground rooms in the basement whose windows were covered from the inside with brown paper. Further investigation revealed that the inside doors to these three rooms were always locked. When I took these findings up with the so-called Estate Manager, Terry. I was told that there was, “potentially dangerous equipment” in those rooms and it was a good idea that I not go in there and hurt myself. While this made be feel like a complete bumbling idiot, I was way too busy with more important matters to give this any additional thought. I was still trying to navigate the immensity of the house itself without getting lost. I would occasionally head for a spot on a different level or floor and end up somewhere else.
When I came to Wilpen, two people came with me. They had helped me with my garden and the maintenance of my small house. “I’m not going alone”, I told them, “you two must come with me.” Kent came to help with the buildings and the grounds and Pauline to attack the extensive but untended gardens. One day, early on, they came to me and said that they had found a problem on the estate. “It’s a body, isn’t it?” I asked. I had been convinced that this was the only serious issue that could have surfaced. It just seemed that in a place of this size, it would not be impossible to find a body. Perhaps I had been watching too many WQED murder mysteries.
“No, No, said Kent, but we are worried that it might upset Mr. Snyder.” “So, if it’s not a body, what the hell is it?” Kent responded, “We’ve discovered a good-sized marijuana farm on the property.” It was complete with well-planned irrigation lines that ran to the other side of the indoor pool house. This was an area that couldn’t be easily seen from the mansion or the roads that bordered the estate. Suddenly, the papered windows and the locked rooms made a great deal of sense. I asked Kent to get the keys to those rooms from the Estate Manager, Terry.
That evening when Bill came home from the office we told him about the Gilded Weed growing on our gilded age grounds. Fortunately, Bill took it well. He was not upset; as a matter of fact he found it laughable, at least at first. I am surprised that he didn’t ask, “How close to harvest are we?” After he got over his surprise, he began to realize the potential seriousness of this illegal issue which would not reflect well on him or Wilpen if it appeared on the evening news. When we finally gained entry into the rooms, it was apparent that someone had gone to a lot of trouble and spent a lot of money (probably estate money) to ensure a healthy and profitable crop. The seedlings were destroyed along with the plants in the field. The rooms were returned to their intended use, which was gardening. Oddly enough, Terry was not immediately fired. He continued on for several years.
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