This smart red-brick Italianate house stands proudly behind wrought iron gates, its elaborate porch ironwork resembling the ornate railings on an old-fashioned steamship. This nautical theme offers a clue to the home’s secrets and the family who once lived there, but sadly their history is laced with misfortune. Thanks to photographer Leland Kent of Abandoned Southeast, we can reveal the troubles and turmoil that await within, and explore the languishing spaces inside this once-magnificent home. Click or scroll on to step inside...

Captured by photographer Leland Kent of Abandoned Southeast, the house is located in Telfair County, Georgia, where the nearby formidable Ocmulgee River provided employment for steamboat crews during the 19th and early 20th centuries, shipping valuable lumber between urban hubs.

On entering the abandoned home, you can see luscious, well-preserved dark wood lining the walls, stairs, doorway, and floor. It gives the feeling of grandeur and elegance, emphasized by neoclassical-style large doorways and oversized furniture.

Look at the finely carved newel post on the staircase, which is an architectural feature in its own right. The well-crafted wood has stood the test of time, with the stairs still sturdy despite crumbling ceiling plaster littering the floor. The house was built between 1880-1885 by Captain John Loquier Day, a prominent member of the community who had worked his way to wealth from humble origins. John was born in New York City on 22 April 1838, after his parents emigrated from Bristol, UK. 

Fit for a stately home, this wonderful grand-scale decorative wooden seat, which includes a huge mirror, stands in the hallway. You can imagine the carved monstrous figures at either end as fearful figureheads on the bow of a ship. The beastly figures possibly represent the terrifying sirens of seafaring myth.

Despite decay creeping in, you can still clearly see the glory of this living room's past in the grand interior design of the neoclassical-style oversize doorway and the big arching windows. Two huge wooden cabinets dominate the room. It’s a shame to see the draped curtains left to fall down and the detritus on the wooden floor as this was once a home full of life. John came from a family of nine siblings, although two died in infancy, as was sadly common in the 19th century.

Here’s the other side of the room. Notice the huge double doors, the ornate chairs, and the decorative fire surround. But neglect has taken its toll, with scuffed chairs, broken furniture, and debris having fallen from the walls and ceiling. John was sent to work at the tender age of 15 alongside his father. He learned how to take apart and repair machinery for factories, and how to make patterns to mold metal into machine parts.

Another downstairs room is in shambolic condition. The wall on the left looks ready to crumble, with piles of broken plaster and wood on the floor, while the ceiling coving is balanced precariously on top of a window. At 22, John took another step up the career ladder by qualifying as a craftsperson, known as a journeyman. His high level of skill was sought after and made him exempt from military service. But tragedy struck the family in 1854 when John’s mother died from yellow fever at the age of 45.

The plain white paint shows off the pleasing symmetry of the large doors and alcove shelving, which are all framed with the same smart, carved casings. But look at the fireplace, the surround has fallen inwards, as has the floor, while the wall is cracked and the brickwork looks wonky, which may hint at wider structural issues. Family fortunes seemed to take a turn for the better when John’s father became manager of a fleet of steamboats. But disaster was just around the corner...

This downstairs room continues the classic interior style, except the fireplace is in much better condition. In 1858, on a steamboat journey from Augusta to Savannah, John’s father’s vessel caught fire on the Savannah River. Local newspaper The Delaware Gazette reported that 780 bales of cotton, 40 barrels of flour, and other produce were destroyed in the blaze. The crew of the stricken steamboat was forced to jump overboard to avoid the flames. Unable to swim, John’s father was one of about fifteen passengers who drowned. 

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This forlorn space is losing the fight with Mother Nature. It looks like a plant has crept through a crack in the far window and you can see tendrils dangling inside. The ornate wooden furniture, complete with carved mythical griffins, contrasts uncomfortably with the general decay of the room.

Here’s another view of the room, showing how it links to the hallway and an adjoining space. The chandelier is missing one of its fittings and large strips of the ceiling are hanging down. While the family was blighted with a string of bad luck, there were brighter days too, including John's marriage to his sweetheart, Mary Strobar.

This little bathroom has big potential with a large window offering a great view from what was a lovely old roll-top bath. Sadly, rust has spread across the sides of the bath and sink, while the floor is dilapidated. Back in the house's heyday, it was home to John, Mary, and their four children, though sadly one died in infancy and another passed away at the age of 17 following a long illness.

It doesn’t look like you could do much cooking in this kitchen, with its ramshackle cupboards and ancient appliances. Again, greenery is pushing its way inside the room through smashed windows. Wanting to advance in life, John changed careers to follow in his father’s footsteps as a steamboat captain.

Looking down from the top of the stairs you can see flaking paint dotted on the wooden floor. A layer of dust clings to the stair spindles. For the next 12 years, Captain John operated three steamboats sailing along the Oconee and Ocmulgee rivers. According to Leland Kent, he built his own boats and named them after his children. 

Light streams onto the upstairs landing thanks to the two big arched windows. From here, you have a good view of the beautifully turned spindles, indeed, a skilled craftsman like Captain John could have made them himself. In 1869, tragedy again hit the Day family, when John’s brother, Henry, came to visit. As he traveled by train to the family home, the 27-year-old suddenly fell ill. John reached his brother but Henry passed out within ten minutes of their reunion. Henry died four days later of suspected 'brain fever'.

From this view, you can glimpse an upstairs bathroom and bedroom along the hallway. Notice the substantial chandelier, torn out of its socket and dangerously dangling by a thread of a wire, a home hazard indeed. And there was more tragedy outside John's home too, as he lost yet another relative to the rapacious river. His brother, Thomas, was sailing a cargo boat down the river when he crashed his steamboat and was flung from the vessel. Unable to swim, he drowned in the murky waters.

This bedroom is in a sorry state, with half of the ceiling crumbling away and part of a window missing, but even covered in grime, the imposing fireplace manages to catch the eye. Paint pots on the floor offer a faint glimmer of hope that someone may be planning a renovation, though the home looks to have been abandoned for some time. Captain John was one of the leading members of the local Methodist Church. In his later years, he was devoted to charity work and donating money to the church, according to his obituary.

Much like the downstairs wash space, this bathroom could be lovely, given a bit of care. The tall windows would make a wonderfully dramatic backdrop for a long hot soak in the bath. Notice the mirror propped up in the tub, and the metal rails and hooks left in the walls. Captain John died on 9 March 1906, at the age of 67. He is buried in Laurel Grove Cemetery North in Savannah, alongside his relatives.

An upstairs bedroom is in dire disarray, with traces of damp on the ceiling and walls. Odd detritus litters the floor, such as a pair of shoes and a ‘beware of the dog’ sign. According to his obituary, Captain John was a member of the secretive society known as the Freemasons, who performed a Masonic funeral rites ceremony for him.

Captain John also belonged to a second lesser-known esoteric society, called the Oddfellows. This group is another trade-based fraternity with strange rites, rituals and symbols. Stashed away in the messy bedroom, a pile of old magazines provides a snapshot of the not-so-distant past. These magazines and mementos were likely left behind by a recent resident. 

Admiring the house from the overgrown backyard, you can see decorative overhanging eaves and tall arched windows, both a hallmark of the majestic Italianate architectural style. In his obituary, Captain John is praised as one of South Georgia’s most prominent citizens, in tribute to a tradesman who made his fortune on a river that claimed the lives of his father and brother. But perhaps this story can have a happy ending after all—here's hoping Captain John’s old house will be rescued and restored to its former glory.

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