To spot the MacPheadris-Warner House, look straight ahead for a grand and sturdy brick mansion with rows of white windows, thick walls, a gambrel roof with dormers, and a little cupola sitting proudly on top-the house with the old iron fence and a stately door is impossible to miss!
Alright, picture yourself here in front of this remarkable brick house on Daniel Street-it’s not just old, it’s the oldest urban brick house in all of northern New England! These thick, red-brick walls, fifteen inches deep, have seen more fancy coats and powdered wigs than a costume shop on Halloween. Back in 1716, Captain Archibald Macpheadris, a Scots-Irish sea captain with pockets full of dreams (and, hopefully, no sea monsters) decided he wanted to make a splash in Portsmouth, and he wasn’t about to settle for a simple wooden house. So, he built this impressive Georgian mansion right here, with brickwork so solid, you’d think he expected pirates to attack!
Now, don’t just look at the bricks-peek up at the second floor: see that stone band running across? That’s called a belt course, and believe me, this house is the only thing in town that needed a belt after all the feasts they hosted. And take in those fancy details: overhanging cornice, rows of decorative modillions (like little teeth under the roof), and the gambrel roof-a later addition to replace the original double gables. There’s even a cupola, like a ship’s lookout, perched at the top-a nod to Captain Macpheadris’s seafaring days. Imagine the parties and intrigue brewing behind these walls!
Inside, the house had a classic four-room plan, plus a rear kitchen wing that always smelled of roasting and baking. The real surprise hides in the hallway: the oldest surviving Anglo-American wall murals in the country, painted long before anyone in America dreamed of WiFi-or even light bulbs!
But this house isn’t just about the sea captain. When Macpheadris died, the house passed to his wife Sarah, and then things got spicy. Sarah married George Jaffrey, a wealthy merchant, and moved up the street, while her brother, Governor Benning Wentworth-yes, a real colonial governor-used this house as his official mansion. Imagine a governor living here, making big decisions, while probably forgetting to pay his sister rent and maybe even smashing a few windows before moving out. Family drama, 1700s style!
And then the Warners came along-Mary Macpheadris Osborne and her new husband, Jonathan Warner, who brought his daughter Polly. Jonathan had posh tastes, so the house got a little glow-up, fitting the new fashions of the day. For more than 170 years, Warners and their descendants called this building home, sipping lemonade in summer and maybe telling ghost stories around the fireplace when the wind howled through the bricks.
But here’s the plot twist: in the 1930s, an oil company wanted to bulldoze this place and plop down a gas station! Can you imagine? Quick-thinking locals-true preservation heroes-rallied, scraped together $10,000 during the Great Depression, and saved the house. Thanks to them, you’re standing here today, in front of a treasure trove of history, family secrets, early American art, and, I suspect, a few memories that still echo from room to room. So next time you hear a creak behind you, maybe it’s just Captain Macpheadris making sure his walls are still standing strong!
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