Val-Kill Cottage

When Uncle Franklin was in Washington as Under Secretary of the Navy, he an Aunt Eleanor rented a house in Washington.  When he became governor of New York, they lived in the Governor's Mansion.  When he became president of the United States, they moved into the White House.  Uncle Franklin was quite right to call home the house in Hyde Park, New York, that he had grown up in, but Aunt Eleanor did not feel as if the house were her own.  When his father died, the estate became his, but he allowed his mother to become its matriarch, a point she made very clear to my aunt, who was tolerated as a guest.  It was little better at their home in New York City.  When my aunt and uncle married, Sara Delano built two houses right next to each other--with connecting doors on every floor.  She moved into one; my aunt and uncle shared the other.
    Uncle Franklin seemed to understand Aunt Eleanor's longing for her own private abode.  When the Val-Kill Furniture Factory--a mile away from Springwood--closed in 1936, he suggested that she convert it into a home for herself.
    The challenge for the architect-builder lay in fitting anyone's idea of a home into a factory shell.  Uncle Franklin loved designing buildings; at Hyde Park he designed the FDR Library, the Stone Cottage, and Top Cottage.  He may have hoped to incorporate some of his beloved fieldstone in the remodeling of the factory, but it was clearly impossible, so it was left to a delighted Aunt Eleanor to find an architect.
    Uncle Franklin was enthusiastic as well and seemed pleased that she could at last enjoy Hyde Park, and then he wouldn't have to feel guilty about not asking his mama to let the first lady have first place while visiting Springwood.  My mother used to laugh and say that my Uncle Franklin could run the country, get us out of the Depression, and conduct a war, but standing up to his mother in domestic matters, such as his wife's concerns, was beyond his grasp.
Aunt Eleanor presented additional challenges to the architect-builder.  Her secretary, Tommy, must have her own separate apartment.  There must be an adequate bedroom and bath for Aunt Eleanor, a suite that also would include a large sleeping porch.  She wanted many little bedrooms for her many houseguests, with adequate access to bathrooms.  Living and dining rooms and of course a kitchen were a must.
    Perhaps Aunt Eleanor lacked a clear idea of what the dimensions of the room might be, or could not imagine from looking at the blueprints how the actual spaces would work out; in any case, it is not a designer's dream of a house.  In fact, it is surprising that the spaces worked out at all.  You came upon the stairway quite by accident.  Narrow and poorly lit, it begrudged the fact that you might be carrying a suitcase.  You had to traverse the dining room and the living room in order to get to the porch.  The dining room was too narrow for its table; the kitchen too small for the cook; the nine bedrooms were indeed small and often hot; and the five bathrooms were hidden in odd corners.  But then, convenience was never high on Aunt Eleanor's list of priorities.  
    She chose all of the furniture herself, picking from among pieces she had inherited or that had been made in the furniture factory.  She hung her favorite paintings and prints and covered her own bedroom walls, as usual, with photographs of family and friends.  She put light gauze curtains on all sunny windows and distributed favorite artifacts on tables and bureaus.  Last and most important, there were bookshelves in every room, bookshelves that were soon over stuffed with books.
    Aunt Eleanor called her house Val-Kill Cottage.  Val kill, in Dutch, describes a stream lowing through a meadow.  In Hyde Park, the stream indeed flowed from the charming pond that surrounded two sides of the cottage, but it was topped by a rickety wooden bridge that caused busloads of guests to turn around in a steep and soggy meadow.
    A cottage with nine bedrooms and fie bathrooms!  Not the ordinary image of a cottage, but somehow it was.  It welcomed you.  It had no pretensions.  It focused on its guests and invited them to feel at home with its extraordinary mistress.  A dwelling absorbs the spirit of its owner and reflects what is absorbed.
    Everyone loved to be invited to Val-Kill Cottage,