Rosedale: Hidden Gem

by Charles McGuigan

This cover story first appeared in NORTH of the JAMES in July 2014

As with every other neighborhood in Richmond’s North Side, from Overbrook Road to Upham Brook, the seed of Rosedale was planted by nineteenth-century visionary industrialist Lewis Ginter. It all started with a brick farmhouse and the adjacent 127 acres, which would, many years later, be subdivided into small plats, gridded like the nearby communities of Bellevue and Ginter Park.

That original farmhouse was built in 1815, and called Rosedale Lodge, but soon after Ginter purchased it in the early 1890s, he enlarged it considerably and transformed the interior with parquet floors, six sets of French doors, a massive veranda, and architectural detailing that reflected the Arts and Crafts movement of the time. It then became the original home of the Deep Run Hunt Club. 

It was a quite a place, too, hailed as one of the finest hunt clubs in the country. In those days, Deep Run had stalls to house 40 horses, a bicycle shed, kennels for hounds, one of the Commonwealth’s first golf courses, a mile-long racetrack and even a steeplechase course that ran right in front of the Lodge. 

Over the years, the old Lodge fell into decline and all but two acres of the land was sold off to make way for the development of what is now called Rosedale. 

Fortunately, Joan and Tom Phipps are in the process of doing a full architectural renovation of the Lodge and she invited me into the house and gave me a quick tour. 

“We’re trying to keep everything that we can, original,” says Joan. It is a massive structure with three towering brick chimneys that can be seen as you mount the entrance ramp off Laburnum onto I-64. Outside we tour the surrounding two-acres.  There’s an old concrete swimming pool, and remnants of a garden. 

I speak with Judy Melchiorre, long-time Rosedale resident, and former president of its civic association. She and her husband have lived here since 1986.  

“I think the first thing we saw when we drove up to our house, many, many years ago, was the beautiful canopy of the trees,” says Judy, who is a poet. “It’s like being enveloped by them during the summer when the foliage is full; and in the winter they glisten with ice and snow.”

When the Melchiorres moved in, they were the youngest residents of their block and would listen to stories their neighbors would tell them about Rosedale.  “A friend of mine who used to live in the neighborhood shared with me a kind of title for the neighborhood, which was this: Rosedale is for the newly wed and the nearly dead,” says Judy, stifling a sweet laugh. “And when we moved in we were among the newlyweds for years.”

One thing that has always attracted Judy to Rosedale is the diversity of its neighbors. “It’s not the kind of neighborhood where everybody’s the same age and we all have common interests,” she says.  “It’s the kind of neighborhood where we welcome all different kinds of people. We have couples, we have single people, we have people with roommates, we have people with partners. We have a variety of folks that live here.”

But they are united by a common sense of place and they extend themselves to one another in a way you might not see in a development of McMansions. “I was reflecting about this recently,” Judy tells me, “And I remember that when we had one of the big storms, somehow our side of the 1900 block of Elmsmere had electricity and the other side did not. So we ran these huge orange extension cords all the way across the street so that our neighbors could have their lights and their refrigerators on.  It was a literal and figurative connection with our neighbors. It was really reaching out.”

For reasons no resident I spoke with can figure out, Rosedale, which has very distinctive boundaries—Imperial Plaza to the north, Westwood Avenue to the south, Hermitage Road to the east, and the Interstates to the west—is often not recognized as a community by folks who don’t live there. 

“I think that Rosedale does not get its due,” says Judy. “You know people talk about Bellevue and Ginter Park and all the other neighborhoods and every time somebody asks me where I live and I say Rosedale, they look at me quizzically. I always have to give them a reference point like, ‘It’s the neighborhood across Hermitage from Ginter Park.’  It’s not across from and it’s not down the street from. It’s Rosedale.”

The desirability of a neighborhood is ultimately measured by the allegiance of its inhabitants, and every Rosedale resident I speak with absolutely adores the area.

Kimberly Roberts, who lives on Oakdale Avenue in one of the oldest houses in all of Rosedale, holds court on her front porch whenever the weather cooperates. She has lived in her home for just over a decade, was married on her front porch to her husband, David, who has since died.  

“My house is my best friend,” she says. “This was the first house I was shown and I knew I had to have it. It turns out this house was built in 1915 and this house and the house about six doors down were the farmer’s house and the farmer’s daughters house. I would rather be here than probably just about anywhere. I call it Oakdale.” 

For Kimberly, Rosedale is as much about her neighbors as it is the houses and tree-lined streets. “Ever since I got here this is the first time I’ve ever felt that I am at home,” she says. “And the people that fit in here stay; and the people who don’t, don’t last very long.  It’s hard to explain, it is a very neat slice of Americana and everybody here cares for each other.”

She mentions the couple who live across the street—Jeff and Rodney—who have become two of her closest friend. “We call one another Mrs.(Gladys) Kravitz—the nosey neighbor from ‘Bewitched’,” says Kimberly. “If I see something going on I’ll call one of them at work and say, ‘Hey Kravitz here, somebody was walking around surveying your property.’ We’re always tattling on everybody and I have no problem with everybody knowing my business. It’s comforting. So we look out for each other.”

Kimberly’s next door neighbor, Mildred, has lived in Rosedale her entire life.  “Whenever the power goes out or it snows we’re all over there asking her if she needs anything,” Kimberly says. When Kimberly’s husband was declining, neighbors would frequently leave flowers and food on her front porch. And when he died, men in the neighborhood would offer her assistance in maintaining her house. “I get choked up talking about it,” she says. “My neighbors are remarkable and I probably would walk right through somebody if I saw them trying to get into somebody’s house or hurting somebody here.  I mean it‘s that strong. Every once in a while I’ll see a teenager flicking a car handle to see if they can find loose change and it unnerves me. I will fly over the fence and be like, ‘What the hell are you doing?’ You get very, very territorial living in Rosedale.”

Crime here, though, is virtually non-existent, and that may have something to do with both Rosedale’s location and the diligence of its inhabitants. 

I catch up with Tom Houff who’s been the mail carrier here for the past eight years and a resident of Rosedale for just about as long. He knows virtually everyone in Rosedale and looks after them, in a way, almost like a beat cop. “The biggest problem we have is stupid theft and some minor graffiti,” he says. “Transients from the bus station sometimes cut through Rosedale to the Interstate. You can tell when they’re shopping, and I watch them. But that’s very rare.”

In the main, Rosedale has a somewhat insular quality which makes it all but immune to crime. “One of the things I like about this neighborhood is that it’s kind of tucked away,” Tom says as we walk along Seddon on his appointed rounds. “lt’s kind of off to the side a little bit, and you really can’t go through Rosedale to go somewhere else. It’s a cul-de-sac kind of community, and that keeps things secure.”

Tom loves to watch the young families moving in to the neighborhood.  “I’m watching a whole new generation who call Rosedale home,” says Tom Houff. “I’m watching a lot of kids grow up and I’m the only mailman they’ve ever known.”

Everyone I’ve spoken with so far has mentioned Liz Turner, acting president of the Rosedale Civic Association, so I make my way over to her house over on Laburnum. We are joined by Amy Magee, a resident of the neighborhood, and Elaine Wittel, who chairs the association’s beautification committee.

A couple years ago Elaine spearheaded a program to replace the existing plantings of purple plums on Hermitage Road and Bradford pears on Laburnum Avenue with Yoshino cherry trees, the same cultivars that ring the Tidal Basin in our nation’s capitol.  As seed money to fund this project the association used the $1,000 gift left by long-time Rosedale resident Mrs. Reynolds who owned the sprawling green house on Teakwood, which has, by far, the most extensive gardens in the entire neighborhood.

“So far we’ve planted 31 trees,” Elaine says. “I ‘m just astounded by the response we’ve had from people when I went knocking on doors, saying ‘Would you donate $50 to adopt a tree?’  And on these terribly hot days neighbors are going out with gallon jugs and watering the trees.”  She pauses for a moment and then says, “Rosedale is like a big family. You could go to anyone living here and they would help you out.”

Amy nods. “Rosedale really is a hidden little jewel in the city that nobody knows a lot about. It’s a charming little area, but at the same time it’s beautiful. You’ll see the most beautiful backyard gardens that will rival anything in the city.  In this neighborhood there really is no privacy. You can’t go into your backyard without having two or three conversations.”

“That’s right,” says Elaine. “We know everybody and their dog and if you can’t remember the person’s name, you remember the name of the dog.”