Landweir House
Chapter 11
August 20th, 2005
Donald and Lisa Marie Landweir had never heard of the Landweir House in New Orleans before two months ago. When they started their search for a home in which to move to the city, the advertisement for the Sheriff’s Auction that listed a house with their last name caught their eyes. Lisa Marie was looking to move her medical practice to New Orleans from Pittsburg. She had no real family in Pittsburg. As a matter of fact she had no family anywhere but she had heard from a now deceased aunt once that their family had come from New Orleans. She had wanted to move there ever since she had heard that news. It would be the closest that she could come to finding her true family. Her husband Donald was a lawyer and since he would have to do a fair amount of studying in order to pass the bar and practice law in the state of Louisiana, it was decided that he would be able to stay at home and work on any house that they might buy before he tried to earn money.
They had bought Landweir house sight unseen based only on only the sketchiest of details. Evidently it had been around since pre-civil war days, the most recent occupant was a screenwriter from back in the fifties. He had died in the house some months ago and as he had no relatives, the house was forfeited to a Sheriff’s Auction. Even though they had not been able to see the place in person, they had photos and descriptions and even though the rooms were jam packed full of garbage left behind from the prior resident, you could still see traces of the old charm that had once belonged to Landweir House.
“Even if we have to tear the place down and build new from the ground up, it would be worth it just to have property in that part of the city.” Donald had argued to his wife in order to get her to sign on. “Besides I’ll be acting as general contractor, we’ll get it back to what it used to be only better.”
And so the deal was struck and the two of them came to Louisiana in August.
“Donny, are you sure that we can do this?” Lisa Marie asked as the two of them made their way across what had once been a grand front porch and up to the massive front doors.
“Lisa Marie, once we get into it, it won’t be too bad. I’ll get some window air conditioners and make it tolerable while we work on the house.” He said as he fit the key into the front door and turned it in the lock. “Madam Landweir, I give you the Landweir House.” He said as he made a grand gesture with his arm to usher her through the door. Once inside it took their eyes a couple of seconds to adjust to the darkness of the room. They could see the grand staircase that led to the second floor but everywhere else around them were stacks and stacks of trash. Magazines and newspapers, corrugated cardboard boxes containing who knows what, nick knacks of appliances and clothing, boxes of food and things bundled together in a never ending sea of the remorseful, insane, lifetime’s gatherings of Robert Breen. There was the narrowest of paths between the stacks that granted the couple access to their home.
“Oh, Donny!” was all that Lisa Marie could bring herself to say. It was almost too much for her to think of this poor, pathetic man who had obviously lost touch with reality so long ago and yet had enough money to allow him to live in such maddening squalor.
“Well,” he said as he took a deep breath, “I guess that we don’t have to wonder what needs to be done first.”
“Hotel reservations?” Lisa Marie offered and then started laughing.
“Dumpster.” Donald said as he tossed a handful of magazines onto a stack. As they slid across the top of the stack and fell to the floor something caught his eye. It looked like a hand written letter. “What’s this?” he said as he picked it up and held it up to an unblocked window to read. “Can this be…right?”
“What is it?” Lisa Marie asked as she moved herself closer to him to try and see.
“Lisa Marie, this guy Breen, he was a movie writer from the fifties.”
“Right, he lived here for like fifty years, died here and now we own all of his treasure.” She said with as much sarcasm as she could fit into her voice.
“Honey, I hold in my hand one letter written to our Mr. Breen in which the writer is asking for advice from said Mr. Breen in connection to a film which is entitled “Hellcats of the Navy.” It is dated November 16, 1956. The writer is asking Mr. Breen if there isn’t something that he might suggest to his movie’s screenwriter that might punch up the actor’s role a bit.”
“So a Hollywood ego, who would have guessed? Hey wait, who signed it?” Lisa asked as it started to dawn on her.
“Now you’ve got it. This letter, written and signed came from the star of the movie, Ronald Reagan.” He said triumphantly as he handed it to her.
“Donny?”
“Honey?”
“How much of this stuff do you think that there is in this place?”
“I’m guessing that if this is what’s inside the front door, we have just become very wealthy land owners.”