Jekyll Island through the Generations

By Marcia Neundorfer

In January, as my husband, Mike, and I were driving back to Cleveland from Florida, we decided to detour to Jekyll Island, Georgia’s southernmost barrier island. We arrived at the Jekyll Island Museum at 10:45 am and saw the sign indicating the next trolley tour, 11 am: Hollybourne. That name held a special place in my mind and family history.

Hollybourne was the “cottage” built in 1890 by Charles Stewart Maurice, one of the founding members of the Jekyll Island Club. This exclusive club was established in the late 1880s as a hunting club for 53 wealthy businessmen who wanted to escape the cold winters of the northeast. The founders included names like Rockefeller, Vanderbuilt, Morgan and Pulitzer. My grandmother, Agnes Loan, was a servant with the Maurice family, and came to Hollybourne with the family for the winter “season” from 1893 to 1907.

In 2007, Mike and I visited Jekyll Island with my extended family and we were given a special tour of parts of Hollybourne. It was in bad shape, with rotting floors, fallen ceilings and structural decay. A few volunteers were working on the floors to make them safe. Five years ago, Mike and I stopped at Jekyll Island again. Hollybourne was still closed to visitors, but we were told that seasonal volunteers were slowly working on its restoration. We peeked through the windows, but were not able to see much progress. We were not expecting much on this stop either.

With just one other visitor, off we went on the trolley. The tour guide was excited to learn that my grandmother had lived at Hollybourne. He said that it was his favorite cottage because of its unique design. Charles Stewart Maurice was an engineer and a founding member of Union Bridge Company, which built steel roads and railway bridges throughout the United States. He designed Hollybourne with a support system of trusses that allowed for large open rooms, without beams or pillars. It was built to accommodate Maurice, his wife, Charlotte, and their eight children. It is the only cottage on the island built of tabby, a cement-like mix of oyster shell, lime and water, that was often used in southern coastal construction. In 1947, Jekyll Island was established as a Georgia State Park and, sadly, the Maurice family had to relinquish Hollybourne to the state. The house was empty and neglected for many years. Restoration, which was challenging due to moisture damage and weather rot, was started in 1998, but has progressed far enough over the past two decades to now allow tours of the property.

On this trip, we were able to tour all three floors and the basement. On the third floor, the tour guide pointed to a drawing and writing on one of the lower walls. He explained that the youngest daughter had probably used a candle to backlight her profile and then traced it on the wall. Next to her profile, she wrote a short poem in French. She signed it “Emily Maurice, February 16, 1902.” She was fourteen years old. To me, the guide said, “Your grandmother was probably looking all over for her.” This wrapped me in the magic of this place. I could imagine my grandmother’s life in this house.

Memories

of Jekyll Island, 1893 - 1907

By Agnes Loan Andrew

and any legal documents they had received, and write their responses for them.

(as

imagined

by her

granddaughter, Marcia McCarthy Neundorfer)

When I was 14 years old, I moved from my family’s farm in Ridgebury Township, Pennsylvania to the town of Athens, about a one hour carriage ride down the hill. I was going to work for Charles Stewart Maurice and his wife, Charlotte, who had eight children: four boys and four girls. My job was to look after their three youngest children, Margaret (Peg, age 10), Albert (age 8) and Emily (age 6). I heard from the other servants that the Maurice family had built a mansion on an island in Georgia and that we would be going there on the train before Christmas.

I missed my family and our farm. My father, Michael Loan, was a farmer, and he and my mother, Margaret O’Brien Loan, had ten children. I was the oldest. My grandfather, John Loan, and grandmother, Bridget Brennan, lived near us. They both came from County Cork, Ireland during the famine of 1845. My grandfather was a scrivener (scribe/writer) for our Irish settlement. On Sundays, after church at Our Lady of Perpetual Help, people would come to the stall where he had his horse and buggy and he would read the letters

At the Maurice home, I knew some of the other servants because, like me, they were Irish girls and boys who came from the nearby farms. In early December, the other servants and I started packing to take the family on the train to Jekyll Island for the winter. I had heard that the first time the whole family and all the help went to Jekyll Island, they stayed at what they called “The Clubhouse.” It was crowded and uncomfortable, so Mr. Maurice decided to build his own cottage on the grounds nearby. Now, Hollybourne was ready to welcome the family.

Two weeks before Christmas, we boarded a train for Philadelphia, which would connect to another train to take us to Georgia. I had packed the children’s clothes and everything they would need at Hollybourne from Christmas until we would return in the spring. I added their things and mine to the piles of trunks, rugs, furniture, dishes and silverware that would go to the new house.

At Brunswick, Georgia, we got off the train. Everything was loaded onto barges, pulled by boats, to get to Jekyll Island. The Maurice family boarded one of the boats, but the other servants and I had to make the crossing on the barges. I hated the barge. I had never been on water and its rocking motion made me sick. Finally, we got to a dock lined with many sail ships, called yachts, where everything was unloaded onto horse-drawn carts and carriages.

Along the waterway that we had crossed, we drove past the huge, breathtaking Clubhouse. A little way down the road, I got my first look at the biggest, most beautiful house I had ever seen: Hollybourne. Around it were palm trees and live oaks draped with Spanish moss, and just a half mile away was the ocean, which I had never seen before. It felt like a magical place.

We servants lived on the third floor and the back part of the second floor. The downstairs had large, open rooms. The furnishings were nothing like the Maurice home in Athens. This was a “hunting lodge,” I was told, where the family comes to relax and get away from the stuffiness of city living. There were bearskin rugs and all types of Oriental and rag carpets on the wood floors. There was a lot of wicker furniture, which could be moved around to get comfortable by the fireplace or to sit by a sunny window. On one end of the house was a large, covered porch. There was a small room with a fireplace and a stuffed chair where Mr. Maurice relaxed after hunting.

I began to love this place. With the children, I took walks to the beach and hunted for seashells. Although I could not swim, I enjoyed walking in the shallow waves when the ocean was calm. It was always cold. Charlie Hill, the coachman and caretaker, sometimes would take me and the children on carriage rides.

Hollybourne was beautiful for Christmas, and the Maurices hosted many parties, including one for the local children, where they gave each child a gift. I remember once they hosted the Rockefellers, but it was not like the fancy dinners they had at home.

I came each winter to Hollybourne with the Maurices for 14 years and they were always kind to me. Eventually, my younger sister, Mayme, was working for them too, and she came to Hollybourne, along with our friend Julia from home. We worked hard but we had fun together.

Mrs. Maurice was committed to organizing religious services on Jekyll Island. An Episcopalian herself, she arranged for Catholic missionaries to come say Mass for us Catholics. At first, religious services were at the small Union Chapel, but Mrs. Maurice worked to get the

In 1907, at one of the dances for the staff, I met Joseph Andrew, the harbor master on Jekyll Island. We soon got married and moved to New York City, where he works as a chauffeur. We have one child on the way. Recently, I was sad to learn that Mrs. Maurice had died of typhoid fever. I never returned to Jekyll Island, but it remains a magical memory to me.

My grandmother’s memoir ends here, because after her time on Jekyll Island, I could not imagine what her life was like, but I will describe what I heard from my mother and aunts. Gramma herself was a quiet person who never talked about her past. She was almost 30 when she got married. She and Papa had nine children, including two sets of twins, within nine years. One set of twins died right after birth. The family moved from New York City to Stamford, Connecticut, and Papa commuted to New York City, where he continued as a chauffeur for a wealthy family there.

In 1918, my grandfather died from the Spanish flu, as did one of their twin babies. Gramma was left alone with six children under the age of ten. My mother told me that the family Papa worked for paid his full salary for a year. She also told me that a few of Gramma’s family members wanted to take some of the children, but Gramma insisted on keeping them together. She converted their Stamford home to a boarding house. My mother remembered her older sister pulling a wagon full of pies that Gramma had made and selling them to the kitchen staff of wealthy families nearby. Eventually, Gramma married one of the boarders. Together, they bought a farm in rural Delaware, near Middletown. According to my mother, it was not a happy marriage. Her husband would deliver vegetables to the Philadelphia Market and not return for weeks. Gramma and the children worked hard to keep the farm going, selling eggs and vegetables. At some point, her husband did not return. Gramma sold the farm and her brother came from Elmira, New York, in his Model A to pick them up and take them to his home. They shipped what few possessions they had by train.

Gramma worked for wealthy families in Elmira. She often cared for the sick at home and, over time, this became her specialty. The local doctors gave her an informal nursing certificate because of her expertise. She kept in touch with two of the Maurice daughters. According to my mother, one of these daughters loaned Gramma the money for one of my uncles to finish his degree at Cornell. My brother maintains that Gramma pushed him to become an engineer because of her admiration for Charles Stewart Maurice.

Gramma lived to age 92, fairly healthy, walking with a cane. She shared a home with two of my aunts. When I was young, my mother took my younger sister and me to visit every Sunday afternoon. Often, my great aunt Mayme was there, and she and Gramma would be quietly laughing together. My mother explained that they were telling stories from Jekyll Island.

Mike and I feel a special connection to Jekyll Island. We were thrilled on this most recent trip to at last get a complete tour of Hollybourne. On the way home to Cleveland, I kept imagining my grandmother’s life there, feeling that it must have been a magical place for her. And now, it is a magical place for us, too.