About the year 1650, three brothers
named Pope came to America from England and
settled in three adjoining counties in the
northern neck of Virginia. Third generation
son, Burrell Pope, migrated to what is now
known as Wilkes County Georgia in the year
1762. He brought with him his newly born son,
Wiley Woods Pope. It was Wiley who started
this house in 1797.
Wiley's granddaughter's husband,
John Howard Walton, continued the construction
of the house, but did not finish it because
of his involvement with the war between the
states. During the Civil War, John's Pregnant
wife, Mary Elizabeth Pope Walton, lived alone
in the house with only a young slave girl
named Sarah to assist her. Sarah stayed on
to nurse the newborn, Lulu Belle, and when
Sherman marched through Georgia, it was she
who helped to hide the silver. Sherman's troops
rode through the hallways raiding and plundering,
but the house was spared because of the newborn
baby.
John Howard Walton was a meticulous
dresser who was known more for his love of
books and fine clothes than for his farming
acumen. He was a kinsman of George Walton
(one of Georgia's signers of the Declaration
of Independence), George Walton II and Octavia
Walton LeVert, both of whom played an important
part in Florida's history.
It is written that John Howard
Walton left for service in the war of "Northern
Aggression" (as the Civil War is called
by native Southerners) riding a fine horse,
only to return in 1864 riding a mule. With
no funds to pay former slaves for labor on
the 2,500 acre plantation, he was forced to
trade the house and lands to his father- in-
law, Wiley M. Pope, who completed the house
and lived there until 1891.
The house looked much the same
then as it does now, except it had open hallways
both downstairs and upstairs, which have since
been enclosed. Hundreds of photos, sketches
and measurements were made before the house
was dismantled, catalogued and restored.
We shall remain forever indebted
for this formidable accomplishment to the
determination of Mr. Dayton Smith, the extraordinary
engineer and dedicated restaurateur from Memphis,
Tennessee who moved the Pope-Walton house
from it's original site 117 miles east of
Atlanta to our present site.
It took Smith three years to
accomplish the feat, moving it brick-by-brick,
board-by- board and restoring all it to our
three lovely, wooded acres. So authentic is
the restoration that wooden pegs and original
lumber were used even in the attic.
In the early '70s the banquet
hall was added to the house. We named it the
Ladybug Room in honor of the very last, great
hostess of the house who lived here until
1920. She was known, as "Ladybug"
as a child and "Aunt Lady" in her
older years.
The great-great granddaughter
of Wiley M. Pope, Mrs. Melba Young Beale who
now lives in Florida, said that it was fitting
that the Pope-Walton House should now be dedicated
to the cause of good food because the mistresses
of this house had for over a hundred years
been noted for the tables they set. Some of
the most famous sons of Georgia were entertained
in this antebellum home during its long history.
We at Anthony's Restaurant are proud to continue
the tradition.
GHOSTS
Ghost Story
by Alan Levine
Excerpted from The Vinings Gazette
October 26, 1998
For a Halloween issue story The Vinings Gazette,
I wanted to spend a night alone in a haunted
house. After some research, the name of Anthony's
came up and I contacted the restaurant’s
general manager, Mary Dean Aguirre who said
I could spend the night but added that "You
can't leave until the morning crew comes because
you'll set off the security alarm." "Have
you ever seen a ghost in the house?,"
I asked. She said, “Oh, no. I don't
stay here at night by myself. But we’ve
had pastry chefs hear chains rattling around.
They usually refuse to work by themselves
at night. You should speak to Sallie Cwik,
a former manager now living in Ohio.”
“Yes, the house is haunted,” Sallie
said. “There's a main staircase at the
front of the building. Near there is an old
photograph of Annie Barnett who was married
in the house in 1882. Some people sense her
presence near the staircase, others have heard
children singing there. We’ve even had
employees quit after being in the house late
at night because they thought it was haunted.
“Ms.
Cwik, have you seen a ghost at the house?",
I asked. “Not really, but one night
my husband and I were closing up the house.
After turning off all the lights we went to
our car in the parking lot. All of a sudden
we noticed the lights on the second floor
were on again. But there are no switches up
there to turn lights on and off, you have
to unscrew the lights from the sconces to
turn them off which we had done. Yet when
we went back into the house, the bulbs were
screwed in tight. So we unscrewed them again
and went back to our car in the parking lot.
We looked up at the house…and the lights
were all back on again!”
I chose the
night of September 22, the Autumnal Equinox,
for my overnight visit. This was not a great
choice since the next day was the two-year
anniversary for my wife and I, but the uncanny
often occurs during times of transition like
solstices and twilight. Ghosts are transitional
entities existing between this world and the
next. Walking outside Anthony's I looked up
at the black windows high above. The ancient
air conditioning unit near the back offices
rumbled. Inside the restaurant the night kitchen
crew were finishing the dishes. I lay my sleeping
bag down amidst the dining tables of the glassed-in
front porch on the second floor. I could see
a few of the lights of Piedmont Road flickering
through the trees. “Hey! You still here?,”
shouted the night manager. “Yeah,”
I answered. “We're leaving. You know
you can't leave until the morning crew gets
here?” “Yes.” “Good
luck.”
Now alone and
locked inside, I listened to the creaks as
the house settled. Annie’s portrait
hung just downstairs from where I watched
and waited. I could see the spot on the stairs
where someone had said they’d seen a
ghost cat. I couldn’t muster courage
to get up and walk around. Then, I felt a
warmth wash over me along with a sense of
peace and well being rarely felt. But it didn’t
last long. I shivered and finally managed
to push myself out of the chair. With dismay,
I realized my flashlight was in the car! There
were some dim lights on in the house. Most
of the house was in shadow or total darkness.
I entered a room and groped for a light switch.
Nothing. I found a candle and lit it. Then
another, and another. I lit every candle I
could find. In one room I found a TV. I switched
it on. The static blared out like a buzz saw.
I quickly turned it off and crawled back into
my skin. Finding a three pronged candelabra
and looking like the doomed adventurer in
a B-movie, I continued on my walk. Down in
the wine cellar, a sculpture of Bacchus' large
stony head laughed mockingly from the wall,
chilling my blood. Making my way towards the
back office, I heard three raps on the ceiling
above me. My mind went blank and my mouth
bone dry. I was alone with something my mind
could not understand and my soul feared. Some
part of my brain commanded one foot to go
before the other. I went back up to the second
floor. There was another bang somewhere in
the house. And then there were the sound of
bells - high pitched and beautiful like an
angel song. As I continued to walk the house,
misplaced footsteps and the angel bells were
my companions. I crawled into my sleeping
blanket. My body was fatigued, but my eyes
were open wide. The bangs and bells had disappeared.
Like the captain of a ship lost in fog searching
for a beacon, I sought out the distant city
lights. I needed a reality check. Sleep began
to come. Then I heard the sound of footsteps,
soft but distinct and coming up the stairs.
And rustling too. I huddled down deeper into
my sleeping bag. The footsteps arrived at
the top of the stairs and began to walk towards
me. I poked my head out to see who was there.
But nothing. Only the feeling of another presence.
And the rustling. Someone invisible was just
a few feet from me. I couldn't speak. My voice
was gone. There we stayed for an uncountable
duration. Me and my host. The presence slowly
faded. I tried to relax. The soft footsteps
and rustling began again. From the bottom
of the stairs, up and to me, the presence
came. And again I stared hard down the hall
searching, but saw no one. Three times the
presence came up the stairs but never went
down. After the last visit, dreamless sleep
thankfully came.
My next
memory was of voices - real human voices.
The light of morning shone in my eyes. I returned
home to the loving arms of my wife. “Happy
anniversary, baby,” she said. “I
had a strange dream last night. We were together
at Anthony 's. A woman I've never seen before
in a dress unlike anything you'd see today
came and brought me to you.”
