I’ll never forget Mary and my first sight of Bayfield. It was a sunny, warm day in June, 1969, when Mary and I drove in from the south and were mesmerized by the lake. Sparkling like a million diamonds, we were spellbound. The town was quiet, not the tourist haven it has become. There were vacant buildings and many “For Sale” signs. We drove the streets, exclaiming about historic house after house, the steep hills giving everyone a view. We stopped at the Community Lunch for a bite, visited Jim and George’s Antique Shop, the Pot Shop of Bob Eckels, the Kerr Gallery.

At the time, we were engulfed in the process of renovating a Victorian home near Madison that had been beaten up during 30 years as a nursing home. The Chateau in Bayfield was a much grander home, on a magnificent site, with few of the signs of disrespect we were dealing with. Try as we might, the envy was palpable.