Grace Senne wasn't an architect, but she knew what she wanted in a home.
"She wanted it built the way she wanted it built," said her granddaughter, Judy Cureton.
That being the case, Senne's influence can be seen throughout the house.
Having grown up there, Cureton has always appreciated the home's idiosyncrasies, but the house at 344 N. Ellis St. in Cape Girardeau -- known around town as the J. Maple and Grace Senne Wilson house -- became more than a family heirloom earlier this month when it was named to the National Register of Historic Places. It joins more than 50 Cape Girardeau properties on the list.
Cureton went to Jefferson City to get the process started nearly 2 *½ years ago, and although the house was built in 1904, it was the building's characteristics more than its age that were the deciding factor.
"The reason the house was accepted was architecture," she said.
The Colonial Revival-styled house is full of turn-of-the-century hallmarks, some endearing such as the skylit central staircase; others, such as the lack of original ductwork, are less so.
"I have no air conditioning downstairs," Cureton said.
An air conditioner has been installed upstairs, but running vents to the downstairs area would have been considerably trickier.
"But cool air drops. Are you comfortable?"
Despite the thick Missouri summer outside, the Senne house's first floor was indeed comfortable. It doesn't hurt that the house is partly shaded by generations-old foliage. But the lack of air conditioning is the least of the house's anachronisms. Stepping from the foyer into the parlor feels like stepping into another time.
There's a baby grand piano piled with sheet music and a hand-crank Victrola phonograph. A melodian stands in one corner, dulcimers and an antique harp in the other.
"This was originally a parlor," Cureton explained. "But coming from a family of musicians, it became a bit of a music room."
The parlor also features a bit of water damage, the first thing on Cureton's seemingly continuous repair and maintenance to-do list.
New gutters, the decennial paint job, renovating the maid's quarters; there's always something to keep her busy, but even renovations have become something of a family tradition. Through the dining room, the kitchen feels curiously off.
"It turns out my mother was kind of like my grandmother in that she knew what she wanted," Cureton said. And being a petite woman, she wanted a kitchen island 2 or 3 inches lower than the countertops. "So she had my dad install these, along with the cabinets."
Although a good amount of the furnishings on the ground floor could be considered antiques, family photos and heirlooms such as Cureton's grandfather William Berry Wilson's gilded Masonic swords give it a lived-in feel. The upstairs, on the other hand, feels even further back in time.
Cureton has remodeled the three bedrooms and guest room, each with a different flower motif. The sunny little room she called hers as a girl is now the daylily room, painted a soft cantaloupe color. The room she now calls hers is the rose room, with the large walk-in closet that Grace Senne insisted upon.
"[Closets] were taxed, but my grandmother didn't care," Cureton said. She wanted to provide for her children. But judging by the adjacent master bedroom, closet space wasn't as important to Senne.
"Look at the closet my grandmother gave herself," she joked, pointing out the meager cubby in the corner, hardly deep enough to house a pair of shoes heel-to-toe.
Cureton is in the process of remodeling the last upstairs room, a soon-to-be jonquil-yellow maid's quarters, complete with the handcrafted bed/bookshelf combo that her father built. But the process has
slow, and unforeseen obstacles have been inevitable, regardless of the room.
Redoing the upstairs bathroom took especially long, she said, but the finished product, with its three-tone aqua-green walls and antique razors and drugstore memorabilia from her father's old pharmacy, the headache was worth it.
"This is probably my masterpiece of the rooms that I've done," she said.
But as nice as it is, it's not as impressive as the view from the balcony on the very top of the house.
"It's almost as good as being in the college dome, right?" Cureton said, referring to the iconic landmark at Southeast Missouri State University.
When the house was built, it overlooked a small farm and from the top, one could see clear to the Mississippi River. Now it overlooks an apartment complex and a church, but in the winter when the trees are bare, the river is still visible.
Cureton said she's proud that her home is now recognized as a historic place, not just because it reflects her grandmother's vision, but because in each of the successive tweaks and renovations, it reflects the work of three generations of her family.
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