A Trip to Elmshaven
Elaine Bowerman

One day in mid 1984, when my husband and I were visiting Northern California, we found ourselves in Healdsburg, a small town near St. Helena and Elmshaven, Ellen White’s last home. Through the years we heard a lot about Elmshaven and we decided to stop off and visit this historic site.

As we drove into the parking area, we saw a large group of youngsters climbing aboard a school bus. Obviously, they had already toured the old Victorian house and were returning home. A quick glance at my watch told me that we were probably too late for admittance that day, however, we decided to speak to the people in charge and ask if we might take a quick look around the home.

The rustic, yet beautifully maintained Victorian house and surrounding grounds impressed me. When my husband and I approached the front stairs, we could see that the front door was still open following the departure of the children. We stepped into the lovely entrance hall and called out. A tired-sounding voice answered us from the living room to our right, inviting us in. It was then that we first saw Ellen White’s granddaughter Evelyn Grace Jacques. She was sitting in an old chair just inside the room, yet completely out of sight from the entrance hallway. I asked if we were too late to see the house. She quickly responded that since we were the last visitors for the day, we could wander through the house at our leisure. She remained seated in the easy chair and did not offer to accompany us through the rooms.

I could not help noticing that the more interesting areas on the first floor were cordoned off. A rose-colored cord separated the old pump organ from the rest of the living room; and most of the dining room was “off limits,” too. The dining area appeared quite large, but the sliding doors that separated it from the living room were only open a few feet. Another cord extended across the room, a few feet inside the doors, separating visitors from the dining room table and other furnishings. The table was set for company with lovely dishes and silverware. However, we could only get close enough to obtain an idea of the pattern on the China, and many other interesting items displayed on the sideboard were obscured from our view.

I asked Grace if we could see the kitchen. She smiled and replied that we could investigate every area of the house – even those that were restricted. She then warned us that the little stairway in the kitchen leading to the storage area under the house was very narrow and steep. I felt that it would be improper for us to abuse our privilege by going past the cordoned area in the dining room for a closer look at the China and knickknacks. So we entered the dining room and moved towards the back of the house through the small isle that the rose cord created. Immediately we entered the pantry and kitchen. I was amazed at all the old utensils, cooking pots and other interesting items that I saw there. I could have spent hours in this area alone, but my husband was anxious to see the rest of the house.

The doorway that Grace mentioned was easy to spot. It had a large sign warning visitors not to proceed any farther. My husband opened the door. The very dark and extremely narrow stairway looked foreboding, but we made our way slowly to the bottom, where we found ourselves in a combination storeroom and carriage house. Undoubtedly this was where Mrs. White’s buggy or carriage had been stored in bygone years. There was a large doorway opening to a driveway at the side of the house. Since the door was open slightly, we had adequate light for viewing the storage area.

One wall contained a number of shelves for storing home canned foods. Some zinc-topped jars lined the shelves, and much to my amazement, I saw three or four jars of peaches on one shelf. The room was filled with miscellaneous items, but nothing that really caught my eye. What did impress me was how cool it was there even on a hot summer’s day.

Once we returned upstairs, my husband and I went on to the second floor. One bedroom, which led to the front upper balcony, was locked. We kept walking down the hallway until we entered Ellen White’s writing room. Many of her letters and documents were displayed in a glass cabinet. A large wooden filing cabinet that stood next to the fireplace held a multitude of cards that cross-referenced all of Mrs. White’s writings. Many of her books sat in an old bookcase; but the most interesting and certainly the focal point in the room, was her chair, footstool, and lapboard.

Ellen White’s bedroom was quite austere and in keeping with Victorian tradition. From there, we went downstairs again and found Grace, still sitting in the easy chair. I asked her about her Grandmother’s cookbooks, since I had seen none in the kitchen. She told me that she still had a few of them “over at the little house,” referring to her small residence behind the main house. My next question was: “What did you eat?” She proceeded to rattle off a long list of things that her Grandmother’s land produced. I then asked, “Did you eat eggs, cream and meat?” She assured me that they ate eggs from their own chickens, milk and cream from their own cows, and meat from freshly slaughtered animals. I told her that I though that beef would certainly have been difficult to keep without adequate refrigeration. Grace replied that they always had salted meat put away in crocks in the cellar. Now the cold storage area beneath the house made sense to me. An old icebox would allow milk, cream and eggs to stay fresh for quite a long time; but what better place to store salted meat than in a dark, very cool cellar!

We were just about ready to leave, when I asked Grace if I could take a closer look at the old organ. She asked me if I could play the organ, and when I said that I did, she asked if I would play a few songs from the hymnal on the music rack. It wasn’t very long before Grace’s head bent forward on her chest. She was sound asleep .

My husband and I closed the front door quietly behind us as we left. In a few short sentences, Grace had clarified an issue that had been bothering me for years: specifically, the many conflicting and contradictory statements by Ellen White on exactly when she had given up eating flesh foods and using dairy products. The truth is – she never did.

Documentation on EGW's meat eating habit.

http://www.truthorfables.com/EGW_Eats_Meat_Oysters.htm

http://www.truthorfables.com/EGW_Deleted_Her_Chicken.htm

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