Just like nothing (else) on earth: Carlheim Manor

By Tim Jon

I didn’t remember many details, and I certainly didn’t want any more information. I had no pressing reason to find out the who, what, where, when, how or why—and I didn’t even really need to answer to this event’s overall importance to Loudoun County, Virginia. Huh-uh. I was here for myself, and by myself; I had no interview scheduled, and no press conference to prepare for and carefully cover. 

Having long since clipped all the tethers of the professional, local ‘hard news’ media swirl, I quite gratefully allowed the absolute freedom of a simple, personal visit to a familiar, historic landmark to soothe at least some of the charred edges on my long-embattled intellectual and emotional armor; because, you see, for 10 years I carried the sometimes insurmountable responsibility of ingesting and translating every local news story into something accurate, credible, compelling and comprehensible for the listening public. So, on this morning, I just stood in the rain and soaked up the palpable atmosphere on the grounds of Carlheim Manor. 

I stood there as long as I felt like being in that spot. And it was mighty pleasing. 

This ancient (to most of us) stone structure represents—to me—one of a handful of local fixtures that give this community its very individual and attractive character. Dark, silent, off the main ‘trade routes,’ old beyond any personal memory, with silhouettes from nearly any angle that leave me with a sense of brooding, biding its time while we mortals mill about the vicinity. 

I know that’s a pretty hefty introduction, but this is a unique place: the property itself originally commanded almost a thousand acres, stretching to the Potomac River in the east, to the center of Leesburg in the south. 

Take a close look at the Exeter neighborhood clubhouse, and the creamery ruins out at Red Rocks Regional Park. Those were part of the old Paxson estate, with construction on the mansion dating back to the early 1870’s—a time when little such ambitious expansion was seen on this side of the Mason Dixon line, much less on this scale. 

The Paxson family lived on the property for about 50 years—maintaining ownership until the lady of the house, Rachel, passed on in the Year 1921. She willed the estate to the benefit of ‘needy children.’ 

Fast-forward to today and we see the property utilized by a well-known local organization—the ARC of Loudoun; they offer therapy and support for individuals with disabilities—as well as their families. The group also hosts a very popular, Halloween-themed event, and other fundraisers throughout the year. 

Now, all’s well that ends well, but that lengthy success story didn’t get to this point without a few bumps.  I recall some very concerned voices some 20 years prior to this writing—expressing worry that the mansion would be demolished and the property sold off for development. Yes, believe it or not, I had it on good authority that the board of trustees, at that time, had leaned in the direction of profit versus the wishes of the late Rachel Paxson. 

I remember that the Town Council stepped in and made a quick zoning change to create a protective historic district for the property. My news archive lists one of the supporters of the motion at one of the critical meetings who produced a petition with almost eight hundred signatures, so I would gauge that—after a series of emotional press gatherings and lengthy government sessions—the neighborhood achieved its goal. 

So, things do sometimes turn out for the better, at least up to this point. 

And you’ll remember at the outset—I stated that I didn’t much care about all that stuff anymore? Well, maybe I do—just a little. Or, a bit more. 

Now the drizzly morning I last visited the property, I couldn’t help noticing a solitary crow perched on the roof of Carlheim Mansion. It sure gave me the once-over. 

And, no, I don’t really believe that was the spirit of Rachel Paxson hovering about to keep an eye on things. But I’ve learned a lot over the years. Some during my radio news days in Leesburg (never say anything you don’t want the whole world to hear)—some prior to that in professional theatre and restaurants (always show up – and be ready to work)—and some more recently in my current job as a rural mail carrier (just hang in there, this too will end). 

One lesson I’ll always remember: don’t ever mess with a Lady’s dying wishes.