In 2007, I (John Young) went for a run in what I thought was a local "woodchip nature trail and soccer field" township park, and I discovered an incredibly awesome Victorian mansion and folly that could be the set for a movie about a madcap professor with magical powers.
Or it could be the swanky gentleman scientists' headquarters in a steampunk epic. That tower in the picture to the left by Harold Ross is actually a water tower. It features two huge cast-iron tanks, studded with rivets, high in the air, supported by decorative brick arches, wooden gingerbread, and slate tiles.
It's just WAITING for a long-awaited electro-telegraphic signal, at which time it will free its twenty-foot arms, stand up in a choking cloud of brick dust, and start striding towards the horizon, coal-fired eyes glowing red, its head echoing with the phonographic instructions of its long-dead pipe-smoking master. In other words, this place is INCREDIBLY AWESOME. And the nearby mansion is empty, mahogany panelled, and filled with sunbeams. There are small birdhouse entrance built right into the gables of the stone garage. And it has an interesting past, having been a woman's convalescent home for a hundred years or so until 1971. So it's probably filled with, you know, fluttery Victorian ghosts in frilly linen shifts.
Best. Secret local park. EVER.
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