BELLAMY MANSION MUSEUM

Architecturally Speaking...

6/1/2026

The Bellamy Mansion Museum features two major nineteenth-century architectural styles — Greek Revival and Italianate — both of which reflected broader cultural movements in Europe and the United States during a period of rapid political, artistic, and economic change. Together, these styles were intended to convey education, refinement, wealth, and cosmopolitan taste. These were qualities that elite, white Americans of the antebellum era could project through architecture.

Second National Bank of Philadelphia

US Capitol

Greek Revival architecture emerged in Europe in the late eighteenth century and became influential in Britain and the US during the first half of the nineteenth century. The term itself was coined in mid-1800s Britain and reflected a rediscovery and admiration of ancient Greek history, philosophy, architecture, and its ideals of democracy. Archaeological expeditions to Greece and Asia Minor had introduced Europeans and Americans to newly documented temples and monuments, particularly through publications such as The Antiquities of Athens, a work owned by Thomas Jefferson.

Jefferson, deeply inspired by classical antiquity, helped popularize Greco-Roman design principles in the young United States, believing classical architecture symbolized civic virtue, republicanism, and intellectual enlightenment. Architect Benjamin Henry Latrobe further advanced the movement through his influential public commissions, helping establish Greek Revival as the foundation for the monumental classicism associated with early American government buildings. Examples of this influence can be seen in the neoclassical elements of the United States Capitol and the Second Bank of the United States. In the United States, Greek Revival architecture flourished between roughly 1820 and 1860 and became especially popular in the antebellum South, where plantation owners and wealthy urban merchants embraced the style as a symbol of old world permanence, historical culture, and prosperity. The Bellamy site was built from 1859-61.

Characteristic features of Greek Revival architecture include symmetrical façades, imposing temple-like porticos, tall columns, triangular pediments, and heavy cornices modeled after ancient Greek temples. At the Bellamy mansion, the monumental front portico, with its 25-foot Corinthian columns supporting a triangular pediment, reflects this influence. The use of the Corinthian order — the most ornate of the classical Greek column styles — emphasized sophistication and grandeur. The mansion’s formal symmetry reinforced ideals of order and balance associated with classical architecture.

Even though it's a wooden structure, the mansion’s white exterior connects it visually to the white marble temples of Mediterranean antiquity and the elite idea of refinement and civilization that came with the notion. Alongside that, in the antebellum South, whiteness in architecture could also carry racial meaning. Large white classical homes became symbols of the authority and social dominance of wealthy White slave owning families. Idealized white surfaces of Greek Revival architecture therefore functioned not only as references to classicism, but also as visual expressions of racial hierarchy and white supremacy within a society built on - and often built by - enslaved labor.

Bellamy Corinthian columns

The house sits well above the street at the busy intersection of 5th and Market sts. Its mass, style, color, positioning and dominant presence were statements of wealth and power when it was finished in 1861.

The view from the slave quarters is that of a looming, watchful, white house. Enslaved workers could not ignore this obvious statement of power and their forced service to those in the house.

The slave quarters has Italianate features such as a low-pitched roofs, wide overhanging eaves supported by decorative brackets or corbels, dentile brick, tall narrow windows topped with arches, and a rosy tan limewash exterior that resembles Italian masonry villas.

Thalian Hall

The grandeur and brightness of these homes projected power and civilization in ways that intentionally contrasted with the conditions imposed upon enslaved Black people who built, maintained, and labored within these spaces.

Wilmington's 1858 Thalian Hall-City Hall was completed one year before the Bellamy project and just a few blocks away by the same architect, James F. Post. Another imposing, white, classical building this is the historic center of entertainment and government in the city. The civic sibling to the Bellamy's residential home.

The Italianate style itself developed somewhat later and reflected a different set of artistic inspirations. Originating in Britain in the early nineteenth century, the style was popularized by architect John Nash and later expanded by theorists such as Andrew Jackson Downing in the US. Rather than drawing from the rigid monumentality of ancient Greece, Italianate architecture looked to the romantic countryside villas and farmhouses of Italy, especially those associated with the Mediterranean landscape and the picturesque movement in art and design.

The picturesque movement valued irregularity, scenic beauty, and harmony with nature. Italianate buildings therefore emphasized a more relaxed and romantic appearance than the formal geometry of Greek Revival structures. The style became enormously popular in America from the 1840s through the 1880s, aided by architectural pattern books that allowed builders across the country to reproduce fashionable European-inspired designs. Italianate homes appeared in both urban and rural settings and were favored by prosperous merchants, industrialists, and civic leaders who wanted residences that reflected modern taste and international sophistication.

Blandwood Mansion, the former home of Governor John Motley Morehead, is among North Carolina’s best-known examples of the style. Its Tuscan villa appearance, yellow stuccoed brick walls, asymmetrical massing, broad eaves, and prominent tower embody the romantic Mediterranean aesthetic that defined Italianate architecture.

At the Bellamy Mansion Museum, Italianate influences appear throughout all three buildings on the property. The low roof pitches, tan-pink stucco and limewash finishes, arched windows, projecting eaves with ornate corbels, and deeply exaggerated cornices all reflect the style’s Mediterranean inspiration. Most distinctive is the belvedere crowning the main house — a rooftop architectural feature whose Italian name literally means “beautiful view.” Beyond serving as a visual focal point, the belvedere also provided ventilation and views of downtown Wilmington, blending practical function with romantic ideals of Italianate design.

The combination of Greek Revival and Italianate architecture at the Bellamy site illustrates a transitional moment in nineteenth-century American design. The use of Greek Revival could convey stability, democratic value, and classical grandeur, while Italianate introduced a more romantic and picturesque sensibility. Together, these styles communicated the Bellamy family’s wealth, education, and awareness of international architectural trends. Yet the mansion’s architecture also reveals the contradictions of the antebellum South: ideals of beauty, democracy, and civilization were materially supported by mass enslavement and embedded within a social order rooted in racial inequality and white supremacy.

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Are We There Yet?

5/1/2026

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Of course we’ve all heard those words before, perhaps countless times from the back seats and typically as we head out for summer vacation. It’s a phrase that’s been around for as long as there have been children and cars. But let’s imagine what summer vacations were like for the Bellamy children long before paved roads, let alone cars, even existed.

Grovely and points north and south

“By the time Ellen and John D. Bellamy, Jr. were old enough to appreciate Grovely’s bounty, their family had formulated a set lifestyle geared to the season,” according to local historian Diane Cobb Cashman. “May and June found them at Grovely [a plantation in Brunswick County purchased by their father in 1842]. Then, as the oppressive heat that spawned ‘the sickly season’ [Yellow Fever], as well as the horrible stench that came from neighboring plantations’ flooded rice fields, came upon them, they moved to higher ground at Salem, Red Springs, and Laurinburg or caught the salt breeze at Smithville [Southport] or the Sound for the duration of the summer.” Pittsboro in Chatham County was also “a favorite summer residence for many of Wilmington’s old families.”

Circa 1860 map showing towns like Salem and Pittsboro at top left where Wilmington families sought cooler temperatures; Lake Waccamaw just south of Whitesville and Smithville on the coast were also popular summer spots, and of course the Sound areas along the coast were most desirable for their balmy breezes and white sands.

Ellen herself in her memoirs fondly remembered time spent at Grovely. “How I loved it as a child. I remember so well our dwelling house -- no stately mansion but comfortable and pleasant in a big yard between two lovely magnolias and a long row of Lombardy poplars in front. We usually spent the months of May and June there; no later as it was not considered healthy in late summer, being on the creek [Town Creek], and we would then go to Salem or some higher climate.” Ellen also referenced “spending the summer at Smithville, now Southport” as a young girl.

Grovely was situated on Town Creek, which begins as a backwater stream in Brunswick County at the eastern edge of the Green Swamp flowing southeast passing US 17 and NC 133 before emptying into the Cape Fear River.

Meanwhile, back in Wilmington...

When in Wilmington, John Bellamy Jr. recalled that as a boy, "my companions and I would go down [to the riverfront] ...where vessels loaded with naval stores would sail to New England, and they would return with shiploads of ice, in large blocks! These were unloaded on elevated platforms and run into ice-houses especially made for that purpose; the boys would eagerly pick up the broken lumps of ice and use it—greatly relished in hot weather!"

Bellamy's assistant architect Rufus Bunnell helps us envision summertime in antebellum Wilmington in several of his diary entries: “Everything droops,” he wrote. “Up climbs the mercury, the heat mastering the old town.”

An Atlantic Coast Line locomotive at Lake Waccamaw 1896; photo from the North Carolina Collection.

An excursion steamer on the Cape Fear River. Photo courtesy of New Hanover Public Library.

On a sultry summer day in 1859, Bunnell noted that the stores were all closed and the city seemed partly deserted. Taking a walk after breakfast with some friends, “we saw an excursion steamer well loaded down, cross the Cape Fear River and land its passengers for a train of waiting cars in the great wooded and marshy district over there, bound for Lake Waccamaw.” Vacationers could access the beautiful waters of this large, shallow freshwater lake in northeastern Columbus County near Whiteville by railroad, as well as by steamboat.

Ex·cur·sion: a short journey or trip, especially one engaged in as a leisure activity.

Travel by paddlewheel steamboat on the Cape Fear and its tributaries was a popular way to go in the 19th and early 20th centuries. These vessels transported many passengers, much freight, goods and mail, and offered many romantic travels along the river and even to several Carolina beaches.

In an 1860 Wilmington Daily Herald article describing “Moonlight Excursions,” it was reported: "It has been a long time since we have had a really good excursion down the old Cape Fear by moonlight, and we take pleasure in announcing to our readers that the fine and commodious steamer Flora Macdonald will leave here to-morrow night for the above purpose. We are requested to state that two bands will be in attendance, one a full brass band, for the benefit of every one, and the other a string band, so that all who feel disposed can add to the pleasures of the trip by dancing.”

Bunnell gives us another reference to summer leisure for wealthy Wilmingtonians in a July 1860 post from his diary. During his stay at “Howards’ [boarding house], he “walked down to the post office and finding no letters went out on the wharves to see an excursion steamer leave for Smithville [Southport], a village 30 miles down the Cape Fear River.”

Smithville, established in 1792, was renamed Southport in 1887. In James Sprunt’s Chronicles of the Cape Fear River, he wrote: The daily steamers to and from Charleston afforded the passengers at Smithville and Wilmington, and also the planters along the river, who boarded them from small boats, comfortable and speedy service. Prior to the war, Smithville, being so easily accessible by steamer, was the favorite summer resort of Wilmington families.

Summers by the seaside

Returning to Bunnell’s diary entries, he observed that many Wilmingtonians summered at the Sound “out on the Atlantic coast.” From the early part of the 19th century, well-to-do North Carolinians came to the ocean to escape the summer heat, breathe the salt air, and bathe in the ocean. It was widely believed that the supposedly healthy beach environment protected residents and visitors from the ravages of such diseases as malaria.
The Sounds, including Greenville, Masonboro and Wrightsville, were popular summer colonies for Wilmington residents, according to Historic Architecture of New Hanover County, North Carolina. “Originally intended to be used for rice culture and the manufacture of salt in the 18th and early 19th century, these plantations along the marshes had, by the mid-19th century, become retreats away from Wilmington.

Louis T. Moore photo of Airlie-On-The-Sound on Bradley's Creek.

"The area near Wrightsville, above the north bank of Bradley’s Creek, was especially desirable. It was away from the swarms of mosquitoes that populated the adjacent regions, and the views across the Hammocks (later renamed Harbor island) and Banks Channel to Wrightsville Beach were as dramatic then as today.” In 1886, Bradley’s Creek was the perfect setting for a new home belonging to Sarah Green and Pembroke Jones to be named Airlie in honor of Pembroke’s family home in Scotland; Sarah dubbed it Airlie-on-the-Sound.

Meanwhile, just a few miles south in Masonboro, lumber magnate and one of Wilmington’s richest citizens Oscar Parsley purchased a home known as Finian in 1852 (later destroyed by fire in 1931). We know O.G. Parsley as a friend of John D. Bellamy, who encouraged the doctor and his family to join him in Floral College with other families taking refuge from the war. Ellen wrote that “the Parsleys and our family lived most pleasantly together, my two older sisters being devoted friends of the Parsley girls."

Masonboro was also the summer retreat of William White Harriss, Wilmington physician, businessman, and civic leader, as well as his son George. William was Eliza Bellamy’s brother and George her nephew.

Postcard image of yacht racing from Wrightsville Beach Museum website.

Per Historic Architecture of New Hanover County, the trip from Wilmington to the Sound was arduous before the end of the 19th century, and so families remained at their coastal retreats during most of the summer months. Responsibilities for overseeing the operations of the estates were eased by recreational activities such as fishing and sport sailing. So popular and competitive had the latter become by mid-century, that a group of residents established the Carolina Yacht Club at Wrightsville Beach.

Organized in 1853 and still a social stronghold, the Club is second in age along the eastern seaboard only to the New York Yacht Club.

By the late 1880s, a beach train traveled from Wilmington to Wrightsville Beach. In the early days, the fare was 25 cents, which included the rental of a “bathing costume.”

By the end of the 1880s, Wilmington and the coastal communities of Wrightsville and Wrightsville Beach had been linked by rail, affording residents of the City access to the ocean and a style of life rare in other areas of the nation. With the construction of Lumina pavilion by Tidewater Power Company president Hugh MacRae in 1905, a day at the beach ended with music and dancing every night on the huge dance floor overlooked by a spectator balcony, and movies once a week.

The original Lumina pavilion finished in 1905 at Wrightsville Beach; photo courtesy of Lower Cape Fear Historical Society.

Silent movies were shown on an outdoor movie screen in the surf at Lumina, with spectators sitting on benches on the ocean side of the pavilion. The movies appealed especially to children for they were most often comedies or westerns. Photo courtesy of New Hanover County Public Library.

“Out of the darkness, the lights at Lumina were dazzling,” recalled Lillian Bellamy Boney, a great granddaughter of Dr. Bellamy, in a 2009 Wrightsville Beach Magazine article. In its heyday, Lumina pavilion was a hot spot for big bands like Paul Whiteman, Cab Calloway, and Jimmy Dorsey [sadly, it was demolished in 1973].

By the first decades of the 20th century, the automobile had become widespread, and bridges spanned the waterways along the major routes across Hanover County.

Ellen Bellamy certainly witnessed much progress in her lifetime (1852-1946), from travel by horse and carriage, ferries, steamboats, trains and trolleys to cars, buses and airplanes. She said it herself as she wrote later in life: “It is such a pleasure to have [my brother John] during the summer to take his mid-day meal while his family are summering on Wrightsville Beach only a short distance away in these days of fast travel.”

A Different Kind of Summer

Even after the era of enslavement ended, beach vacations were not necessarily common among Blacks in the south. In fact, Jim Crow laws barred Blacks from visiting the beaches frequented by Whites. That is until 1922 when two African Americans - Rowland and Nathan Freeman - developed a resort called Seabreeze (also known as Sea Breeze or Freeman’s Beach) on the east side of U.S. 421 just north of Snow’s Cut and Carolina Beach.

Alexander and Charity Freeman.

The land was bought in 1855 by freed slaves Alexander and Charity Freeman and inherited by their son Robert Bruce Freeman. At his death, he parceled this land in tracts, designed to be self-supporting waterfront properties, to a number of relatives, according to the StarNews. Even then, black people were forbidden from even traveling through Carolina Beach to get to Seabreeze, so the Freeman family bought a boat to ferry people back and forth to the resort.

Following Seabreeze, Simpson’s Hotel was built in 1925 and then the Monte Carlo, all of which led to bathhouses and music clubs known as “jump joints.” By the 1930s and 40s, blacks from all parts of North Carolina flocked to Seabreeze to finally enjoy surf and sun. Read much more from Federal Point historian Rebecca Taylor about the area here.

Unidentified visitors at Freeman Beach circa 1945.

There were multiple dance halls, including this one on a pier

A plan of Seabreeze

Places to stay at Seabreeze

Where Seabreeze and Freeman Park are in relation to Carolina Beach today. Snow's Cut, linking the Intracoastal Waterway and the river, was finished in 1931 and turned what had been the end of the New Hanover County peninsula from Federal Point into Pleasure Island.

Also in the early 1930s, the town of Atlantic Beach - known to some as the ‘Black Pearl' - was formed as a vacation getaway for black families. This small coastal area in South Carolina grew to become a popular vacation destination, and black-owned businesses thrived in this close-knit community nestled in the heart of North Myrtle Beach. Many Atlantic Beach residents are descendants of the Gullah-Geechee people, former slaves from the West Coast of Africa who lived and worked in the coastal area from around Jacksonville, Florida to as far north as Wilmington. You can read much more on Gullah-Geechee heritage here.

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The Bellamy Cistern: 165 Years of “Going Green”

4/1/2026

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There is genius in simplicity and the cistern system is simply genius. In Wilmington, before city water was supplied, the water that fell off your roof mainly fed the wells of your neighbors - and hand dug wells were not very deep, comparatively speaking. The well at Bellamy, for example, was probably no more than 40-50 feet deep, just enough to tap the water table. The water at this depth is not completely free of contaminants and may have even stained pots and pans - especially porcelain. Therefore, clean rainwater would be a great secondary source of drinking and bathing water, as well as irrigation for the plants and hydration for animals on the property.

Sustainability as a 19th-Century Necessity
The Bellamy site is half an acre (or roughly 22,000 square feet), and the house has a footprint of 3,000 square feet under the roof. On a roof of this size, with only 1” of rainfall, the amount of water that runs off amounts to 3,000 gallons. That’s 3,000 gallons of clean, fresh water for cooking, washing, drinking, bathing etc. The idea of a shower every morning is something that wasn’t common practice until after World War II, and even wealthy families like the Bellamys probably only bathed once a week. Nevertheless, when the Bellamy house was in full swing, water usage would be high, and harvesting rainwater was essential. To catch and store it, there was the 6,000 gallon, brick-lined, underground cistern.

The Bellamy cistern stored water that flowed from the roof of the house by a system of channels and downspouts on both sides of the house. Catch basins at ground level helped to filter out debris, and the water then traveled through underground drains directly into the cistern. A tightly fitted cover over the top kept out animals, bugs, surface water, and other contaminants.

In her memoirs, Ellen Bellamy identifies “Guy, our butler” as the enslaved worker who pumped the water from the cistern into the large zinc-lined oak tank on the top floor, where the children spent much of their time. A gravity-fed pipe system carried the cold water down into the original bathroom on the floor below for use in bathing. According to architectural historian, Catherine Bishir, to provide hot water, pipes led from the tank to the kitchen boiler in the basement and back up to the bathroom. The flow of water was controlled so that water descending into the boiler forced the heated water to run up to the bathroom as needed. We do not know if the Bellamy cistern had a charcoal filter on it, but some homes in Wilmington did.

For the next 50 years, the site operated solely on the well and cistern. The first attempt at a centralized water source in Wilmington was in 1881, at what was called the Clarendon Water Works, but it was intended for firefighting rather than drinking water. It wasn't until 1910-11 that the Bellamy House got city water, when the Hilton Pumping Station was put into operation at the site of the pre-revolutionary Hilton House built by Cornelius Harnett. Currently that site is the Sweeney Water Plant, Wilmington's main pumping station to this day.

Rediscovering the Site’s Green Potential
After at least 50 years of no use, following more than two decades of work to restore the Bellamy Mansion, it was decided that the cistern could be modernized and used again for watering the grounds. But first, a dry cistern inspection was necessary to evaluate its condition, size, shape and depth. This process involves emptying the tank to check for structural cracks, sediment buildup, and damaged seals, ensuring water quality and tank integrity.

To make sure it was safe to pump the water out, Deputy State Archaeologist Dr. Mark Wilde-Ramsing led a dive into the cistern. He reported that the cistern is brick-lined and bell-shaped with an "interior diameter of 10 feet and an inner depth of a little over six feet." Once the assessment was completed, a sump pump could be lowered into the cistern, manually hooked up to a hose, and turned on to water the historic Magnolia trees.

Inspecting the old cistern in 1996: Jonathon Noffke, former Bellamy executive director; Mark Wilde-Ramsing, former project director for the Queen Anne’s Revenge shipwreck and deputy state archaeologist with the Underwater Archaeology Branch; Don Floyd, restorationist and master craftsman; Mark's son Joseph (diver), then a high school student and volunteer; and Marcella Rippel, former Bellamy employee.

Historic Water Management in a Modern Landscape
Thanks to funding from the Cape Fear Garden Club in 2012, the Bellamy gardens are now watered by way of a modern irrigation system that draws its water supply from the cistern, taking us back to its original 1861 use. In the words of long-time volunteer, Wade Toth, the grant helped “keep us green and save some green.”

Site Manager Bob Lock explains the process: "First steps were to empty the cistern and clean the sludge from the bricks that lined the bell-shaped water storage. This had to be done so that no impurities clogged the pumps or lines. They actually got down into the cistern and lifted buckets of sludge out of the opening. It was a dirty stinky job and one I'm glad I was watching and not participating in.”

The cistern cleanup and installation of the irrigation system was done by JB Lawn Sprinklers.

"We had to install a suction line and put in a permanent well pump. We then connected all the irrigation lines to another pump outside the cistern located near the North rear scullery window next to the downspout. This allowed water to be pumped out of the cistern and then pumped again to the individual sprinkler stations."

In addition to saving money on monthly water bills and reusing rainwater for everyday use, cisterns also help decrease flooding and protect our waterways by reducing polluted stormwater runoff. Although the introduction of city-wide plumbing led to decline of these ingenious systems, the city of Wilmington now encourages their use again due to these broader environmental benefits. They offer free resources about using rain barrels and cisterns as stormwater solutions. There is also a city-led “Heal Our Waterways” that provides funding to private property owners for installation of larger cisterns that would benefit Bradley Creek and Hewletts Creek. You can read more about the program at https://www.wilmingtonnc.gov/Services/Stormwater/Heal-Our-Waterways.

This article was adapted, in part, from earlier work by former Director of Education at the Bellamy Mansion Museum, Madeline Flagler. During her time at the museum, Madeline developed and led "green tours" for adults and school groups using much of this information.

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Henry Taylor and a Lineage of Leaders

3/1/2026

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In describing the distinguished lineage of Wilmington's Henry Taylor, Harvard professor Henry Louis Gates Jr. finds it difficult to recall a black family tree with more “firsts” in African-American history, starting in the depths of slavery.

The story of this family's legacy begins with Henry Taylor, born near Fayetteville in 1823. Fathered by his white enslaver Angus Taylor and an enslaved woman who probably belonged to Angus as well, Henry was so skilled in his trade as a carpenter and contractor that his father allowed him to travel widely throughout his home state of North Carolina, pursuing his trade in defiance of the restrictive conventions of slavery. Henry moved to Wilmington, where he became a carpenter-builder as well as forming a mercantile business with a white ship owner. According to NCSU’s North Carolina Architects & Builders in a description by Catherine Bishir, Beverly Tetterton and Ellen Weiss: Henry Taylor was one of many free and enslaved men of color who participated in Wilmington's city-wide building boom.

Family tradition states that he was one of the carpenters who erected and finished the Bellamy Mansion in 1859-1861. Taylor's role was carried through family memories, and in 1999 his granddaughter Gladys Whiteman Baskerville and her extended family held her 100th birthday celebration at the mansion to honor the family legacy.

After the war, Taylor operated a grocery business on Nutt Street while continuing in the building business. In 1868 he received $1,800 for constructing the Hemenway School and improving the schoolyard. Active in civic life, Taylor was a member of Giblem Masonic Lodge, the second black Masonic lodge in the state; he served on the finance committee to erect the lodge building in 1871, and it is probable that he was involved in construction of the building, which still stands. He was a founding member of Chestnut Street Presbyterian Church and was active in the Republican Party. He was buried in Pine Forest Cemetery.

Henry Taylor (1823-1891) was among the black artisans who built the Bellamy Mansion. Photo courtesy of New Hanover County Public Library, Cape Fearians Digital Collection.

Chestnut Presbyterian Church, located at 712 Chestnut St. Purchased in 1867 by a black congregation. Henry Taylor was on the first Board of Trustees.

The Taylor Family Tree
Henry and his wife Emily lived at 112 North 8th Street in a home that Henry built for the family, including their four children—John Edward, Anna Maria (Shober), Sarah Louise (Whiteman), and Robert Robinson— all of whom distinguished themselves.

Home of Henry Taylor, with his children and grand-children standing in front.

From left to right: Lida Taylor, wife of John E. Taylor; John Edward Taylor, brother of Robert R.; Gertrude Taylor, Williston teacher and daughter of John Edward; Carrie Taylor Wright, daughter of John Edward; Lillian Taylor Shober, daughter of Anna Maria Taylor and James Shober; unknown; Robert R. Taylor, valedictorian of his class at M.I.T. and architect of many buildings at the Tuskegee Institute; Robert R. Taylor's children, perhaps Robert, Jr. and Helen or Beatrice in front. The family home was on N. 8th Street.

John Edward Taylor remained in Wilmington and became a prosperous businessman and the first black man appointed Deputy Collector of Customs in the city, a position he held for 25 years. Anna Maria attended Howard University, as did her future husband, Dr. James Francis Shober, the first black physician with an M. D. degree to practice in North Carolina; a native of Winston-Salem, he spent his career in Wilmington. Sarah Louise Taylor likewise attended Howard University and married John Henry Whiteman, a prominent Wilmington businessman.

Robert Robinson Taylor's Legacy
Arguably the most notable among Henry's descendants is Robert Robinson Taylor, born here in 1868. He was the first African American to graduate from MIT and one of the first professionally trained black architects in the United States. As described by architectural historian Ellen Weiss, he forged a long career as an architect at Tuskegee Institute in Alabama and a close friendship with the school’s founder Booker T. Washington. He designed most of the campus buildings completed prior to 1932. In 1943, shortly after Robert’s sudden death the year before, a Wilmington public housing complex formerly called New Brooklyn Homes was renamed for Robert Robinson Taylor. The Robert R. Taylor Homes were redeveloped between 2008-2011. In 2015, a Forever stamp by the USPS brought perpetual national prominence to this Wilmington native.

The US Postal Service inducted Robert Robinson Taylor into its Black Heritage Stamp series in 2015.

New Brooklyn Homes, now part of the redeveloped Robert Taylor Estates, is a 48 unit multi-family development located on North 4th Street in Wilmington.

Today, the Robert R. Taylor public housing complex in Wilmington also includes the Taylor Senior Homes (pictured above) and The Pointe at Taylor Estates.

Robert Robinson Taylor's son, Robert Rochon Taylor, became an important corporate and civic figure in Chicago, for whom the large Chicago public housing complex, Robert Taylor Homes (completed in 1962), was named. Among Henry Taylor's descendants through this branch of the family is his great-great granddaughter, Barbara Taylor Bowman (1928-2024), early childhood education pioneer and consultant to the U.S. Secretary of Education during former President Barack Obama's first term. Bowman's daughter, Valerie Jarrett, a civic and political leader in Chicago, also worked under President Obama as a White House Senior Advisor from 2009-2017.

Barbara Taylor Bowman (1928-2024), a pioneer in early childhood education and fierce advocate for equal educational opportunity. Photo credit: Erikson Institute.

Valerie Jarrett (b. 1956), Barbara Taylor Bowman's daughter, pictured with former President Barack Obama. She was his longest-serving senior advisor during his presidency.

Further Reading:

https://www.blackhistory.mit.edu/story/robert-r-taylor
https://www.politico.com/story/2013/12/valerie-jarrett-women-rule-100673
https://nieer.org/pioneer-barbara-bowman
https://www.dncr.nc.gov/blog/2016/06/08/wilmingtons-robert-r-taylor-pioneer-black-architect
https://www.huduser.gov/portal/casestudies/study_0724012_1.html
https://about.usps.com/news/national-releases/2015/pr15_012.htm

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Restoring the Bellamy House Windows

2/1/2026

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Imagine maintaining a home with 112 windows! The majority of those at the Bellamy site are double-hung windows with separate upper and lower sashes raised and lowered by heavy weights inside the window casings on each side. And, they were installed 165 years ago! Over time, wear and tear has caused the sash cords on some of the windows to snap.

The job of fixing the windows is no easy task. Last year, six windows were targeted for restoration. In the photos shown here, Bellamy Museum volunteer handymen Angelo Cimini and Steve Long carefully removed the exterior window trim in order to take out the original windows. Once the windows were removed, they opened the access panel deliberately built into the window frame that houses the window weights. This system allows the windows to open smoothly and easily by counterbalancing the weight of the sash via a rope over a pulley. When the window goes up, the weight goes down.

The weights for these particular windows were made of cast iron, measuring approximately two feet in length and weighing between 15 and 20 pounds each.

Window Weight System
In the Bellamy house windows, there is space for two weights on each side of the window. One weight was used to lift the lower sash, and the other allowed the upper sash to be lowered. While none of the windows currently allow the top sash to move, evidence shows that when the windows were new, both sashes were operable.

New sash cord (rope) was carefully measured and attached to each weight. The rope was then routed through the pulley located in the upper portion of the window frame and secured to the window sash itself. This was done by tying a knot and nailing the rope into a designated slot on the side of the window.

Reinstallation and Finishing
After the new ropes were installed, the windows were placed back into their frames. The exterior trim was then reinstalled, caulked, and painted to complete the restoration and ensure weather protection.

Challenges in the Library Windows
The most difficult windows to repair were those located in the library. It was evident that these windows had been rebuilt following the 1972 fire in the house, as the original access panels for the window weights were not recreated at that time. Angelo and Steve had to cut new access panels and, fortunately, the original weights were still present in their cavities.

After replacing the ropes, another issue became apparent: the windows had been reframed without restoring the original weight pockets. As a result, these windows are only able to open partially. Despite these challenges, and that of care for the delicate single pane glass, the restoration work preserved as much of the original window system as possible while improving functionality and extending the life of these historic features.

Since the 1970s the National Park Service has published its Preservation Briefs. These form a how-to library for fixing the many and varied elements of America's historic buildings. The schematic above is taken from the brief on wood windows, which you can read through this link:
https://www.nps.gov/orgs/1739/upload/preservation-brief-09-wood-windows.pdf

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Ambrotypes: Immortal Impressions of the Nineteenth Century

2/1/2026

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The word ambrotype comes from the Greek ambrotos, meaning “immortal,” and typos, meaning “impression.” The name is fitting. These fragile photographs—made on glass and easily broken—were intended to preserve a likeness forever. In their quiet, ghostly beauty, ambrotypes represent a pivotal moment in the history of photography and in how people chose to remember themselves and their loved ones.

Ambrotype of an unknown child (source: Bellamy archives).

What Is an Ambrotype?
An ambrotype is a positive photographic image created using the wet plate collodion process. Technically, the image on the glass is a negative. However, when the glass plate is placed against a dark background—often black varnish, velvet, fabric, or painted black glass—the transparent areas appear light, transforming the image into what looks like a positive photograph.

Ambrotypes are known for their soft tonal range and ethereal quality. Faces often appear luminous, almost floating against the dark backing. Because the image is formed directly on glass, each ambrotype is a one-of-a-kind object. Many were housed in small hinged cases lined with velvet, similar to daguerreotypes, making them both intimate and portable keepsakes.

Popularity and Historical Context
The ambrotype was introduced around 1854, when James Ambrose Cutting patented a version of the process in the United States. It quickly gained popularity and remained widely used throughout the 1850s and 1860s. During this period, ambrotypes filled the gap between the earlier daguerreotype and later photographic formats such as tintypes and paper prints.

By the 1870s, ambrotypes fell out of favor. Newer photographic methods were cheaper, faster, and more durable, making them more convenient for both photographers and consumers. Despite their relatively brief period of popularity, ambrotypes played a crucial role in expanding photography beyond elite circles.

Who Owned Ambrotypes?
By the mid-nineteenth century, photography was no longer reserved solely for the wealthy elite. Ambrotypes were less expensive than daguerreotypes, making them accessible to working- and middle-class families. For many people, an ambrotype was the only photograph they would ever own.

Farmers, laborers, and their families often commissioned a single portrait to document themselves or their household. Soldiers departing for the American Civil War frequently had ambrotypes taken to leave behind with loved ones, while sweethearts and engaged couples exchanged them as tokens of affection. Children’s portraits were also common, commissioned by parents who wanted to preserve an image of a child at a particular stage in life.

Wealthier individuals also embraced ambrotypes, particularly in the 1850s when the format was considered modern and fashionable. For them, ambrotypes served as both status symbols and tools of legacy, preserving family lineage in a tangible form.

Ambrotype of John and Eliza Bellamy's eldest child Mary Elizabeth, nicknamed "Belle."

Ambrotype believed to be the Bellamy's 9th child, Chesley Calhoun, who died just shy of his 22nd birthday.

Ambrotypes and the Bellamy Family
Given the prominence and social standing of the Bellamy family, their ownership of ambrotypes is unsurprising. For wealthy families in the mid-nineteenth century, ambrotypes were both fashionable and meaningful. They preserved likenesses at a time when photography was still novel, capturing individuals at specific moments in their lives and allowing those images to be passed down through generations.

These photographs freeze time, offering modern viewers a direct visual connection to the past. They serve not only as family heirlooms but also as historical documents, reflecting how people wished to be seen and remembered.

An ambrotype of Frederick Douglass from the Civil War period. Held in the Smithsonian collection.

Enslaved People and Ambrotypes
Enslaved individuals were photographed during the ambrotype era, but they rarely owned these images. Most ambrotypes depicting enslaved people were commissioned by enslavers, often to document what they considered property or to portray enslaved individuals in carefully staged, sentimentalized roles.

Some ambrotypes were created for abolitionist purposes, intended to humanize enslaved people and support anti-slavery efforts, particularly in the North. After emancipation, formerly enslaved people increasingly sought portraits of themselves and their families. These images served as powerful assertions of dignity, identity, and belonging in a society that had long denied them those rights.

Before the Civil War, enslaved individuals generally lacked the money and legal standing to commission their own photographs. Even when portraits existed, ownership usually rested with the person who paid the photographer. Rare exceptions may have occurred in urban areas, but they were not typical.

A Connection to Poverty
While ambrotypes are often associated with wealth and status, they can also tell stories of hardship. One such example is this ambrotype of young Ellen Bellamy. According to a box found with the photograph, the image was gifted on Christmas Day in 1935 to Ellen’s niece, who shared her name.

At the time, Ellen was struggling financially and could not afford traditional holiday gifts. She repurposed this once-coveted photographic object as a meaningful, frugal present. In doing so, she not only celebrated the holiday but also preserved a family image that would be cherished for decades.

This illustrates how ambrotypes could transcend their original context, becoming symbols of memory and enduring familial bonds.

How Ambrotypes Were Made
Creating an ambrotype required skill, speed, and precision. The process began with thoroughly cleaning a glass plate, as even the smallest speck of dust would appear in the final image. The photographer then coated the glass with collodion, a syrupy mixture of cellulose nitrate dissolved in ether and alcohol, combined with iodide salts.

While the plate was still wet, it was immersed in a silver nitrate bath, making it sensitive to light. This step had to be completed immediately before exposure, which is why the method is known as the “wet plate” process. The plate was then placed into a camera and exposed while still wet. Exposure times ranged from a few seconds to several minutes, depending on lighting conditions.

After exposure, the image was developed using chemicals such as iron sulfate or pyrogallic acid, revealing the photograph. A fixing solution—often potassium cyanide or sodium thiosulfate—was applied to make the image permanent. Once washed and dried, the glass plate was backed with a dark material so the negative image would appear positive.

Ambrotype of Lizzie Taylor, a Bellamy family relative.

Storage, Display, and Cost
Because ambrotypes were made of glass, they were delicate and required protection. Most were stored in small, hinged cases, often lined with velvet and covered in leather or paper. These cases might be displayed on mantels or side tables, tucked into drawers or family bibles, or even worn as lockets in miniature form.

The cost of an ambrotype varied depending on size, presentation, and embellishment. Small ambrotypes—such as locket-sized plates—typically cost between 25 and 50 cents in the mid-1800s, while standard sizes ranged from about 75 cents to two dollars. Larger plates, ornate cases, or hand-tinted images could cost five dollars or more, a significant expense at the time.

Prices were influenced by the size of the glass plate, the quality of the case, whether the image was hand-colored, and the reputation or location of the photographer. Urban studios and well-known photographers often charged more, while traveling or rural photographers offered lower prices to attract customers.

The information in this article was adapted from an interpretive plan prepared in the spring of 2025 by UNCW graduate student Melissa Howdershelt for her practica in Public History. The plan included a concept for constructing an exhibition using ambrotypes from the Bellamy Mansion Museum's collection, with the goal to educate its viewers.

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Meet Elvin Artis: Bellamy House Foreman

1/1/2026

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Elvin Artis (1820-1886), a free black house carpenter, served as the carpentry foreman on the Bellamy Mansion project circa 1859-1861.

James Post’s assistant architect, Rufus Bunnell, wrote in his diary about Artis, saying: “...strange to ever keep in mind, that almost to a man these mechanics (however seemingly intelligent), were nothing but slaves and capable as they might be, all the earnings that came from their work, was regularly paid over to their masters or mistresses. A very few, as for instance, the mulatto 'Artis' on the Bellamy house construction, were freedmen made thus by will or purchased freedom; but even those were restricted by special laws made for freed negroes and were also subject if deemed necessary, to observation by the day and night patrol.”

Elvin Artis’s family traced their free status to the colonial period, and some of his ancestors served in the Revolutionary War. Elvin married Liza “Lizzie” (Green) around 1840, and between 1842 and 1858 the couple welcomed eight children, including three daughters -- Elizabeth, Jane (“Janie”), and Josephine. Two sons -- Hildred and Eldred -- were twins, and their other three sons were Champion, Sylvester, and John.

Elvin Artis was not a stranger to John D. Bellamy when he began work on Bellamy’s townhome in 1859. In fact, Artis bought property from John D. Bellamy in 1845 near Love Grove and Smith Creek -- north of Oakdale Cemetery. In 1859, Elvin bought property on lot 282 from John D. Love, at the corner of 7th and Brunswick Streets, and his family resided in a home there for over fifty years. Today, the lot where the Artis home stood is empty.

Elvin’s first wife, Liza, died sometime in the 1860s, and he married Caroline “Carrie” (Mitchell), a woman at least 15 years his junior, in March 1867.

The city contracted Elvin for various projects throughout the 19th-century:

Elvin also ran a prominent Wilmington barber shop and hair salon off and on during the 1860s, '70s, and '80s. He advertised barbering and tonsorial services for both men and women, and he ran his business during the early 1870s from the Purcell House Hotel on Front between Market and Princess. The Purcell House Hotel was advertised as Wilmington’s only first-class hotel at the time.

While Elvin Artis never entered politics, it was not from lack of trying by his contemporaries. In 1882 he declined being nominated representative for the Greenback party’s county convention as he had, “no aspiration to attain political honors.”

All of Elvin and Elizabeth’s sons married between 1862 and 1871. Two of Elvin’s sons, Eldred and John, became barbers and worked with their father, and John was also listed as a carpenter on the 1870 and 1880 censuses. Champion was a local carpenter and fireman. Hildred moved to Boston, Massachusetts, where he, too, was a barber. Two daughters -- Elizabeth and Jane -- married between 1868 and 1877. Josephine does not seem to have ever married.

Chestnut Street Presbyterian Church.

Elvin died at age 66 on June 7, 1886, and his funeral was held at his home followed by services at Chestnut Street Presbyterian Church where he and his family were members. His widow, Carrie, was listed as a “nurse” on the 1910 census, and one of their granddaughters, Mary E. Nixon, was living with Carrie and was listed as a “trained nurse.” Carrie passed away in 1918, and she is buried at Pine Forest Cemetery.

Prepared by Leslie Randle-Morton, Bellamy Museum historian and former Associate Director.

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Bellamy's Eldest: Not Just A Southern Belle

12/1/2025

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Mary Elizabeth Bellamy, nicknamed Belle, was born on November 27, 1840. She was the first child of Dr. John Dillard and Eliza McIlhenny Harriss Bellamy and, in typical Southern tradition, was named after her maternal grandmother Mary Jennings Harriss, and paternal grandmother Elizabeth Vaught Bellamy Williams.

Not much is known about Belle's childhood, except that she would have gone to private school as a youngster and then attended finishing school (generally from age 16 to 19), which was designed to prepare wealthy White teenage girls for marriage by teaching them the skills considered necessary to attract an affluent husband and manage a fine household.

Belle attended the South Carolina Female Collegiate Institute, commonly known as Barhamville Academy, located on the outskirts of Columbia. Beyond learning social graces and upper-class cultural rites, students at Barhamville had a set curriculum for each year with courses ranging from algebra, ancient history, botany and chemistry to art, music, literature and language. They were taught by highly regarded faculty attracting the elite of the South. Its graduates included the Hon. John C. Calhoun's daughter Anna Maria and the future mother of President Theodore Roosevelt, Martha Bulloch.

The school charged $200 a year for room and board (about $8,000 in today's dollars). 'Belle' Bellamy was described as an excellent student who had merited letters of praise from Dr. Elias Marks, the school's headmaster, and she had also demonstrated a special talent for sketching and painting.

Belle's discerning artistic eye was probably drawn to the Greek Revival styles that were so much of the Columbian architecture, yet virtually unknown in North Carolina's Lower Cape Fear region, including Wilmington.

Sister Ellen tells us that Belle was "impressed by the beauty of the Clarkson home on the corner of Bull and Blandings Streets" -- Belle's best friend and schoolmate was Elizabeth Clarkson, so she had spent some time in the Clarkson house.

This lithograph of Barhamville Academy was created in 1860 by Eugene Dovilliers, a professor of art at the school who may well have instructed Belle. The academy itself was founded in 1828 by Dr. Elias Marks, a wealthy physician and Charleston native. Born into a Jewish family, Dr. Marks was influenced by his childhood nurse, an African American Methodist woman, and converted to Christianity at a young age. He founded his school for women as a Methodist institution and named it for his recently deceased wife, Jane Barham. Image courtesy Historic Columbia collection.

Ellen noted "as my father was contemplating this house [on Market Street] she made a drawing of it and assisted Mr. Rufus Bunnell, the architect, in modeling this after that manner." Belle's brother John also noted in his memoirs that her "plan of the building was turned over by my father to James F. Post, contractor and builder." The final design of the Bellamy Mansion, aside from being stylistically similar, is in no way an exact duplicate of the Clarkson home, which fell victim to Union General William Tecumseh Sherman's fiery Civil War march through the South.

No known image exists of the Clarkson home.

At left: Artist's rendering of the Bellamy home. Above: Bellamy Mansion, circa 1874.

Belle also had some input into the interior decor of the new house. In 1860, nearing her 20th birthday, she accompanied her parents and infant brother Chesley on their trip to New York City to look at samples of building materials and select furnishings for their soon-to-be completed 22-room mansion on Market Street. Her sense of style may well have figured into the selection of their fashionable new furniture and fabrics.

Finally, there are Belle's paintings from her days as a student at Barhamville Academy. Several of them were hung when the Bellamy family moved into their new home in 1861 and they adorn the walls of the formal parlors to this very day (see more below).

Belle was clearly a keenly educated and mature young woman as the Civil War began. Providing a suitable home to entertain prospective suitors for Belle and her younger sisters Ellen and Eliza may well have factored into Dr. Bellamy's decision to build such an opulent home. The war significantly altered that vision for the Bellamy daughters. In North Carolina, 40,000 men had lost their lives. For those who survived, the shattered post-war economy made it impossible to pursue education or to eke out a decent living. The crop of perspective beaux who would be suitable husbands to the Bellamy girls was winnowed by war. In the 19th century, girls married young so it might have been difficult for Belle to watch the years slip away.

Five years after the war ended, Belle turned 30 years old, a confirmed spinster in that age. Dr. Bellamy had put the mansion at 503 Market Street in Belle's name -- according to the deed, she paid one dollar for the property -- and the 1870 census showed the value of Belle's property and personal estate totaling almost 15 times that of her father.

Belle was not only beautiful and well-educated. She was rich! As a single girl, she was quite a catch, according to the 1870 census.

In the meantime, Belle maintained many of her social connections to South Carolina. At just two months shy of her 36th birthday, she married William Jefferson Duffie on September 6, 1876, in the Bellamy Mansion. Duffie was a widower, more than a decade older than Belle, with eight children (ranging in age from three to 18). The newlyweds located in Columbia, where the groom had a "great mania for buying up land" and his purchases included the site of Barhamville Academy (which burned in 1869). Duffie was a devout Presbyterian and treasurer of the Presbyterian seminary. He published and sold books, sheet music and stationery.

In 1878, at age 38, Belle safely delivered a baby girl whom she named after her mother Eliza. She bore a second child in 1880 named after her sister Ellen. Belle, who seems to have gone by "Mary" as an adult, was a member of the First Presbyterian Church in Columbia.

Beautiful Belle, the only Bellamy daughter to marry, died in January 1900 at age 59 after a protracted illness. Her obituary in The Wilmington Messenger noted that she had been very sick at home in Columbia and decided to come to Wilmington to her mother's home "for the special purpose of placing herself under the treatment of her brother, Dr. W.H. Bellamy." Belle died in the Bellamy house where her funeral was held thereafter, and she was buried at Oakdale Cemetery in Wilmington. In 1908, the Duffie family disinterred Belle's remains from the Bellamy plot and took them to South Carolina, where she was laid to rest beside her husband who passed away in 1901.

Belle's Paintings

We are fortunate to have several of Belle's paintings hanging on the walls of our formal parlors from her days as a student at Barhamville Academy in the late 1850s, early 1860s.

In mid-19th century America, a lot of the artwork was influenced by a romantic view of the coexistence of humans and nature. A school of painting was founded in New York by English-born Thomas Cole, called the Hudson River School. It produced works of art that depicted American landscapes. Rather than serving as a backdrop, pastoral scenes of nature increasingly became the subject of paintings. We see these influences in Belle's paintings.

At least five, and as many as eight, of Belle's landscape and figure paintings graced the walls of the formal double parlor. Today, we are fortunate to have four originals, plus one reproduction, of them in the parlor, gifts of her great grandchildren. It is impressive to think that this teenage girl's creativity and talent reaches through the years for us to enjoy today.

This is one of the original paintings that hung in the mansion, later gifted by Ellen upon her death to Belle's great granddaughter Ellen Scoville in Columbia, SC. Shortly after the mansion was reopened as a museum in 1994, Mrs. Scoville donated this painting back to us. "Dr. Bellamy" is handwritten in pencil on the back of the frame.

"Landscape with Bridge," oil on canvas, c. 1860, indicates the primed and stretched canvas was purchased from colorman W. Schaus of New York, who may have imported it from England.

"Landscape with Distant Boats on Lake," oil on canvas, was donated by Bellamy family relative Marjorie Taylor of Lexington, SC. There is handwritten notation in pencil on the back of the frame: "M. Bellamy April 20 185?" (indiscernible but likely to be 1855, 6,7, or 9)

"Landscape with Boat": This painting is oil on canvas, c. 1860, and reveals the word "Bellamy" in pencil on the top stretcher bar. Experts from the NC Museum of Art Conservation Laboratory indicate the paint is generally thinly applied over a pencil underdrawing.

“Boy With Dog": It is believed there may have been eight of Belle's paintings initially adorning the mansion's walls; however, some may have been destroyed by the 1972 fire and this one (ours is a reproduction of the original) remains in the possession of Belle's great granddaughter Mary Schlaefer of Columbia.

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Echoes of the Enslaved: Discoveries at the Bellamy Slave Quarters

11/1/2025

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This is an updated version of a piece on the slave quarters renovation from the Fall 2014 issue of Preservation NC magazine:

Our historic buildings often hold mysteries just waiting to be uncovered. The slave quarters at the Bellamy Mansion Museum in Wilmington is no exception.

Back in 1993, when the entire property was conveyed by Bellamy Mansion, Inc. to Preservation NC for restoration and operation, we knew little about the small, handsome building in the back northeastern corner of the property. The building had severely deteriorated through the years, and its counterpart on the northwest corner, the carriage house, was long gone. Only a stack of bricks remained of that.

While there are no windows at the back of the Bellamy Museum slave quarters, there are more than enough on the front of the building to provide the enslaved people who lived and worked there a constant reminder of the family and the house they served across the back yard.

The Bellamy slave quarters in 1994 prior to restoration with some of its secrets soon to be discovered.

In Wilmington, when the slave quarters building was constructed in 1859, such structures were often termed “negro houses.” This Italianate style dependency is a rare, intact example of an urban slave dwelling, and includes sleeping quarters, laundry room, and privies.

A 1994 grant enabled us to research both the slave quarters and carriage house to learn more about the property's African-American legacy. Research historian and author Peter Sandbeck completed a historic structures report on the slave quarters, while teacher and African-American history specialist Alice Eley Jones researched the people who would have lived in those buildings. These studies, together with extensive archaeological research, and more than $1 million in private support, led to the reconstruction of the missing carriage house in the early 2000s; landscaped grounds and gardens; and in 2014 the restored slave quarters.

From the beginning, the slave quarters has parceled out its secrets. Alice Jones predicted that we would find cowry shells and coins in the ground in front of the slave quarters entrance -- and we did. For centuries, cowry shells were used as African currency, and they were considered symbols of wealth and fortune.

We learned that the slave quarters were built prior to the main house, and were probably used as a residence for the enslaved and free Black craftsmen who worked on its construction.

While repointing the east wall of the slave quarters, Wayne Thompson of Heritage Restoration found three pieces of broken white china that had been placed in mortar joints to fill space. Wayne also found some fired glass, shells, sticks and animal bones embedded in the mortar. Whether they are part of a ritual or accidental inclusion is open for more research. (We have a blog by UNCW's Dr. Lynn Mollenauer exploring this question here.)

South Asians and Africans considered cowrie shells beautiful objects of personal adornment, yet they were also used as "packing peanuts" for imported porcelain from China. European slave traders bought slaves using cowrie shells as currency. Source: Monticello.org.

The building had badly deteriorated because of many decades of roof leaks and termite damage. Any element that was intact and stable was left unaltered. Alongside that, areas of the original 1859 plasterwork and new 2013 plasterwork stand side-by-side, with no effort to disguise the difference. However, the restoration process went as far as to match the fineness of the sand, source of lime, and variety of horsehair in the plaster to get it as true to the original as possible.

It is likely that this collection of seemingly mundane items is a ritual concealment.

While the first slave quarters restoration project yielded the mentioned discoveries, more were to be found during the second round of work. Most notably was a precious find under a floorboard in the corner of the first story bedchamber. Archeologists discovered a cache of small objects, including buttons, a bead or two, an animal’s jawbone, a shard of pottery, and parts of a child’s doll.

Perhaps the most striking discovery at the end of our restoration projects has been the sheer beauty of the two complementary buildings behind the Bellamy mansion. Finished with a pinkish slaked lime wash and dark green shutters to mimic their likely original state, the slave quarters and carriage house are now unabashed examples of 1859 Italianate style.

One can't overlook the irony that the beauty of these buildings contrasts with the evil of slavery. And yet, the survival of these buildings has allowed us both to learn more about the full history of the site and to teach visitors more effectively about our state's complicated heritage.

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Bellamy Carriage House: Some answers to a mystery

10/1/2025

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Edited from Preservation North Carolina's Fall 1998 quarterly magazine

In 1998 Preservation NC printed a newsletter and it ran the story, “An Unsolved History Mystery.” The staff-written piece examined what was known and not known of the design and function of the Bellamy's carriage house, which was likely built alongside the slave quarters around 1859 and was demolished by the City due to disrepair in 1946. An accurate understanding of the structure’s exterior elevation and fenestration has always been hampered by a marked lack of photographic evidence. While the “magic “ image that shows the structure clearly and in its entirety has not yet surfaced, researchers have found some other enlightening photographic evidence. This imagery coupled with archeological finds gave us a much better idea of how the building looked and worked.

In reviews of visual information, only obscured bits and pieces of the building peeked out from behind a wall shrubbery and trees. By enlarging and enhancing the contrast of these images, we could accurately project the location of a few windows and doors. Another photograph indicated that the structure was slightly shorter than the existing slave quarters. Based on this general information and the existing 18’x 65’ foundation walls, we assembled the equivalent of a pretty good police sketch of the structure. Some details remained unknown.

Other photographs that surfaced briefly in the 1990s did answer some lingering questions. A descendent of a property owner immediately north of the carriage house was visiting from New Orleans and just happened to have some old photographs taken in the back yard next door. They, unfortunately, did not leave the image for our archive but it showed the back of the building and that its roofline was symmetrical, with parapet steps on the back wall on both the east and west ends. Staff previously assumed that the carriage house was a mirror image of the slave quarters, which is a building with a parapet back wall on one end and flat on the opposite. Another image showed that the second floor of the structure had arched windows, a feature that was assumed, but previously had no evidence to support. Additionally, a lattice fence was apparent in this image. It ran parallel to the face of the entire structure.

An archeological exploration of the carriage house interior yielded a wealth of information about how it was used. Almost the entire floor was paved with irregular geometric blocks of dross (the term “dross” is our working name for the material, records of the product are virtually non-existent). These blocks are a concretion of turpentine resin and sand. To our knowledge, the use of this product was limited but it can also be found in the breezeway under the main house. In addition to this unusual floor, evidence of five or six horse stalls emerged in the east half of the building. The west end was a slightly lower interior elevation and likely was used to park the carriage. A wooden ramp led up from this lower area to the stalls. Adjacent to the ramp is a pargeted brick interior cistern. We believe that an interior gutter collected rain in this 3’ deep container to water the horses. The second floor above the stalls was likely dedicated to the storage of hay and straw. One artifact from this area was part of a horse stall feeder system patented in 1857. The west end upper floor was probably the living quarters of the coachmen or stable workers. Quantities of excavated wall plaster and housewares support this theory. Also discovered was evidence of exterior tinted lime washes, ranging from white to dirty yellow to a pinkish-buff color. As with the slave quarters exterior, when those were applied is unknown.

It seems possible that in its early years enslaved workers Tony Bellamy and Guy Nixon may have stayed in this building from time to time with the animals and supplies. While we may never learn everything about this structure, staff in the 1990s certainly knew much more than when PNC took on the project. Using this limited but helpful historical information, Preservation NC raised funds for building’s reconstruction as an interpretive/educational center for the site. Costing over $300,000 it was completed in 2001 and still serves as our visitor center. It retains the footprint of the original building, the parapet walls on the roof, and a fake door on the western end mimics what would have existed on 5th St. Unlike the original, we do not keep horses, a carriage, or a cow inside. The current museum restrooms between the carriage house and slave quarters were originally the site of a poultry shed. The back yard featured an herb garden, fig tree, coal chute, cistern and well. It was very much a working space. The back wall between carriage house and slave quarters was rebuilt during the 2001 project. The original wall was partly to keep the compound sealed in. This had obvious implications for enslaved workers on site in the early 1860s as the carriage house, the wall, and the slave quarters had no windows, gates, or doors facing north. That fact prevented unseen escape and, along with those parapet walls on the buildings' roofs, also acted as a firebreak.