Vanished Rochester: The Haven

In the summer of 1926, industrialist Fred Marvin Shinnick began construction of a large country estate in Avon Township (now Rochester Hills), just west of the village of Rochester. Shinnick, who was born in Detroit in 1877, was secretary-treasurer of the Briggs Manufacturing Company, which during the period between the world wars was the nation's largest independent producer of automobile bodies. He also owned and operated the Rochester Dairy during the twenties.

Shinnick and his wife, the former Lillian Graham, located their new home on the former Manwaring farm on the north side of Walton Boulevard near Old Perch Road, and named it “The Haven.” The Rochester Era described the property for its readers in 1928:

The very handsome home completed a year a half ago stands back a full quarter of a mile from the road and is reached by a winding driveway. Built of red brick in old English style, it stands in spacious grounds containing 70 acres in all. At the back of the house is a lovely rock-garden and the ground slopes down to a fine natural pool with delightful woods and a ravine yet farther on. In front of the landscaping is still incomplete, although most attractive even in its present stage. Mr. and Mrs. Shinnick and their children lately returned from their respective schools, are all at home at present to enjoy their lovely surroundings.

The Clarion called The Haven “palatial,” and estimated that the cost of its construction exceeded $250,000. The home was lavishly appointed and even featured a two-manual Skinner pipe organ specifically designed for the space. (Pipe organ fans can click here to read the specs for the Shinnick instrument, Skinner op.599).

In 1932, according to Fred Shinnick's obituary, he and his wife Lillian decided to convert their home into a private psychiatric hospital. Their reasons were not stated, but the economic realities of the Great Depression were more than likely a major factor. Large estates were costly to operate and many passed out of private hands or were converted to other uses during the difficult Depression years.

Shinnick operated The Haven Sanitarium until his retirement in 1938, at which time his son, Graham, took over as hospital administrator. The Haven was known for treating well-to-do patients whose identities and privacy were carefully guarded. Rumors swirled that some of Hollywood's famous stars were numbered among its patients over the years.

There was an air of mystery surrounding The Haven, and children were spooked by it. Occasional news stories, such as this one from the Rochester Era in March, 1938, only served to increase the interest:

On Sunday, Sam Howlett was called to The Haven, west of Rochester on the Pontiac road, to participate in a hunt for a lunatic, who had escaped and fled across the fields fifteen minutes previously. Shortly after the call, police found the broken bonds which the prisoner had apparently cut with a hedge clipper in a garage back of the sanitorium and had vanished. While Chief Howlett was searching the section a report was phoned in to Deputy Ted Gunn that the fugitive was entering Rochester in the vicinity of Woodward street. Gunn immediately rushed to that street and seized him. Officials of The Haven conducted the patient to Receiving Hospital, Detroit, believing him too dangerous to keep at the sanitorium.

Notice the vocabulary that was used in those days: the individual is referred to as a “lunatic,” a “prisoner” and a “fugitive,” but not until the end of the article is he called a “patient.” No wonder the local kids were spooked by The Haven!

Not all of The Haven's publicity was negative, however. In 1949, Rochester made the magazine section of newspapers throughout the country when a feature appeared describing the “Rochester Plan,” a partnership between the school district and The Haven to provide mental health services to local students. The article by Robert Goldman, entitled “Rochester Counsels Its Children,” reported in its lead paragraph that the claim to fame for the quiet little village of Rochester, Michigan was that “it is the smallest town in the United States boasting a full-fledged psychological counseling program.”

The Haven operated as a psychiatric hospital for thirty-six years, but closed in 1968 due to declining occupancy and rising operating costs. The once grand Shinnick home sat vacant thereafter, and owing to its location so far off the main road, became a magnet for squatters, vandals and teens looking for a place to party. The caretaker and the Oakland County Sheriff's Department fought an ongoing battle to run the intruders off the property, but despite their efforts the old house was torn apart piece by piece.

Late in the evening of November 2, 1973, the Rochester Fire Department was called to a fire at The Haven. They found numerous problems in fighting the blaze and sounded two more alarms, answered by the Brooklands and Avondale departments. Fire department historian William A. Cahill recorded that the nearest hydrant was on the south side of Walton, so fire fighters had to lay 1,200 feet of hose to reach the house, and cars on Walton hampered their efforts by running over the hose line. Further, the heavy slate roof on the Tudor-revival house created an oven effect in the building. A large crowd of gawkers and onlookers added to the difficulties.

The end of The Haven came when the fire chewed away the roof supports and sent the heavy slate crashing down. Near dawn on November 3, after 40,000 gallons of water had been poured onto the blaze, the house was nothing but a smoldering ruin.

A few years after the fire, the property was redeveloped and became the Grosse Pines subdivision, but one reminder of The Haven still stands in testimony to the property's former use. The ledge rock wall and gates that adorned the Walton Boulevard frontage of The Haven property are yet visible among the tall pines at the entrance to the subdivision.

This postcard view of The Haven shows the ledge rock wall that is still visible today along Walton Boulevard.