Some time ago, she suggested a trip to Körner's (pronounced "Kerner's") Folly, just down the road in Kernersville (at some point they changed the spelling to match the pronunciation), billed as "the Strangest House in the World," which sounded awesome. But for some reason or another, each time we attempted to go, our plans fell through. Well, after repeated attempts, we finally made it. And it was well worth the wait.
Körner's Folly has seven levels on three floors, twenty-two rooms, ceilings that range from five to 25 feet, an underground tunnel that runs beneath the street, a children's theater in the attic, and is nothing like you've ever seen. It also makes amazing use of ventilation (especially considering the piecemeal method in which it was built), allowing hot air, cool air, and even sunlight to travel where needed. Sadly, I was so enraptured I forgot to take many photos (and wasn't sure if I could at first). But that just gives me an excuse to go back.
Jule Körner was the grandson of German immigrants who designed furniture, did interior decorating, painted murals, and worked as a commercial artist. His greatest claim to fame was the Bull Durham murals painted on the sides of barns all over the South. He'd have his artists paint the bulls "anatomically correct," then write to the local paper posing as a concerned citizen to complain. Then he'd have to send the artist back to "fix" the painting. He was also a brilliant marketer.
The house was first constructed in 1880 as a showplace for his interior design and furniture work. For this reason, none of the rooms or furniture match (other than his signature flourishes). The right-hand side of the ground floor was actually the stables, with a 16-foot ceiling to allow for the hay loft. A relative said that the house "would surely be Jule Körner's folly." He liked the description so much, that's what he named the house. He even had it set in tile on the front porch.
Over the years, Körner kept adding to the house, especially after he got married and then had two children. His wife, Polly Alice, didn't want the stable attached to the house, so he closed it in and built a floor in between. He also built rooms for the children with five foot ceilings and small doors, and a level below where their nanny could sit and watch over them. Some of the hallways are so narrow it would be tough for a heavyset person to squeeze through.
His wife wanted to start a private theater for children (believed to be the first in the U.S.), so they converted the top floor into the Juvenile Lyceum, called Cupid's Park Theater. Körner designed a series of Cupid murals and had an artist paint them on the ceilings.
The largest, and most "normal" room (and the most elegant) sits on the second floor and connects to the two rooms on either side. It's most unique features are the curtained booths built into the corners, dubbed "kissing corners" where couples could smooch in privacy. There's also a unique three-person chair, built so that each person (a couple and their chaperone) can face the other. There's also a two-person version for a married couple.
Körner kept adding to the house up until he died in 1924. It stayed in the family for many years until it finally sat empty for some 30 years. It was in danger of being torn down before a group of locals got together and raised enough money to save the house and turn it into a tourist attraction. Now they're working to raise money for renovations, which the house desperately needs. Many of the rooms have peeling paint and show many signs of wear from the intervening years. In addition to the admission price, they also have spots where you can provide donations. We gladly tossed in some more, but what they really need is a wealthy benefactor -- either an individual or corporation. Bull Durham comes to mind as a possibility.
You know what they say: if you're poor, you're just crazy. But if you're rich, you're eccentric. Jule Körner was very eccentric.
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