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Once upon a time the National Park Seminary in Forest Glen seemed simply surreal — a statue of Hiawatha just across the street from a decaying pagoda, a hodgepodge of buildings including a Swiss chalet and an English castle, and even a Dutch windmill. What made it feel even more bizarre was the fact that the U.S. Army owned and maintained the property.
Exactly how this 32-acre land-of-the-lost architecture, just inches from the Inner Loop in Silver Spring, became part of a military installation has everything to do with an equally odd set of circumstances: a turbulent stock market, teaching elocution to the nation's elite ladies and World War II. And since sex always seems to be part of most equations, topless sunbathing on a rooftop is also part of the seminary's lore.
The walk isn't physically demanding, but does require stepping through and around construction materials. On this hot-as-Hades summer day, the construction zone doesn't seem to faze volunteer tour guide Sue Fedor or her 20-some walkers as they gingerly step over wires and crumbled concrete. Fedor is a board member of the nonprofit citizen's group Save Our Seminary (SOS), formed in 1988 to prod the Feds to tend to these ancient ruins.
Directing visitors to a shady spot, Fedor weaves a story involving gambling, a fancy finishing school for women, wounded soldiers, vagrants and even ghost hunters searching for spirits. It's best to begin the tale in the 1880s when a group of developers noticed that the Forest Glen's hillsides rose 400 feet above much of the region and was less muggy and had fewer bugs in the summer. Just a short walk to the B&0 Railroad stop and the recently established Rock Creek Park, they figured it would be a perfect summer resort. But even after adding gambling as an incentive, they were mistaken. Like today, the resort industry was fiercely competitive and the Arts and Crafts-style Yee Forest Inn went on the chopping block.
The Cassedys believed that art and culture should be integral to the new school's curriculum, and used architecture, landscaping, sculpture, painting and stained glass to enhance their educational environment. And while these girls were clearly from the wealthiest households, Cassedy insisted the girls live on a budget and asked parents to refrain from sending their daughters extra money.
Before purchasing the school, the Cassedys visited the Columbia Expedition in Chicago and came home with "a plan book of international buildings," explains Bonnie Rosenthal, who as a member and past president of SOS has worked closely with the Alexandra Company. "Their philosophy was that the young women should not learn only from books, but the world around them. They wanted to create that world through a built environment."
Over time, the young women wanted to start their own ad hoc sororities. Using the book as inspiration, the Cassedys created eight distinct clubhouses, each representing an architecture style from another part of the world. And it is these unrelated styles that make this hilly property so magical.
Nearest the Beltway stands the Spanish villa. Isolated from the other buildings, Vesta Cassedy dubbed the girls who roomed in the building "villains." It was rumored that the pilots of Army airplanes would swoop, hoping to get a glimpse of girls sunbathing on the villa's rooftops. Even the statue of Hiawatha, which faced the mission-style clubhouse, seemed to be peering into its windows and was thus dubbed "Peeping Tom."
After Vesta died in 1914, scandal rocked the school when Cassedy married a former student. With his betrothed uninterested in staying at her alma mater, Cassedy sold the property to Dr. James E. Ament in 1916.
The new owner also had a penchant for construction and with the Arts and Crafts style out and Greek Revival in, the seminary's newest owner started stuccoing over the shingle-style buildings and adding caryatids and Corinthian columns. And to prevent even a single raindrop from touching a student's head, an enclosed walkway was built to connect the five buildings.
But times were changing, and fewer girls attended finishing school. By the time Roy Tasco Davis bought the school in 1937, enrollment was down to 30 students. He attempted to create a college, but when an Army general wanted to use the property as a rehabilitation center for returning soldiers, the army invoked the War Powers Act and took over. It served as an annex to Walter Reed Army Hospital through the 1960s. For years, military families would come to the Greek revival gymnasium to watch a movie; admission was 25 cents. With Walter Reed Army Hospital responsible for supporting wounded soldier, the seminary was largely abandoned.
This could have been when the story ended. But with SOS as its champion, the National Park Seminary has been reborn as home sweet home.
A guided walking tour of the National Park Seminary begins at 1 p.m. Saturday, starting from 2755 Cassedy St., in front of the gymnasium. Parking is available on Cassey and Linden Lane, Silver Spring. Visitors are asked to respect the "Resident Parking Only" signs. A $5 donation is requested. Call 301-589-1715.
