The Moross House is believed to be the oldest surviving brick dwelling in the city of Detroit, though that has proved difficult to verify. Indeed, even the year of its construction is a matter of debate.
The city’s local historic designation report on the Moross House notes that, “It is unlikely that its claim to be the oldest brick house in Detroit will ever be documented, but it will remain so in the minds of Detroiters.”
Some sources say the house was built around 1840, though closer to 1850 seems more logical for reasons explained in a bit. Other sources put the date of construction between 1843 and 1848. Either way, the house is darn old and is nearing its 200th birthday. At the time of its construction, Detroit was still the state capital of Michigan and had only about 10,000 people in the days of the horse-and-buggy. Indeed, Michigan had only become a state a few years earlier.
The house was built in a Greek Revival style on the south side of East Jefferson Avenue just west of Riopelle Street by Christopher Moross, then a brick-maker, so his choice of building material was no surprise.
Interestingly, despite being known as the Moross House and having been in the Moross family until 1920, no Moross is known to have ever lived in it. The home was built as a rental property and remained as such the entire 70-some years that it remained in the family.
A tie to Detroit’s French roots
The Moross name goes back to Detroit’s founding by the French in the 18th century. It was said that a Moross was among those who arrived in Detroit with French explorer Antoine de la Mothe Cadillac in 1701. Moross Road on the city’s east side bears the family’s name.
Victor Moross, Christopher Moross’ father, operated the Moross Tavern on Jefferson Avenue in the city's early days. Case in point, the Moross family rubbed elbows with the revered Father Gabriel Richard (1767-1832) of Ste. Anne’s Parish. Richard was said to be a frequent patron of the tavern, though frequently chastised Victor Moross for selling liquor. Victor Moross, being a devout Catholic, would receive what he took as a prophecy from the teetotaling Richard.
"On his sick calls, he dropped in at my father's tavern to drink coffee, you know, for mother used to make such excellent coffee, my boy,” Christopher Moross recalled to the Detroit News-Tribune for an Oct. 7, 1900, story headlined "Aged Mr. Moross tells a strange tale." “Then the priest would drink his coffee and go to see some patient to save his soul. ...
“One day, he said to father, just before leaving the tavern, 'Victor, before the week is out, you will have sold your last glass of whisky. That night, it came on to blow, a tornado, I guess, and we were all afraid our house would be carried away, and as the night went on, the wind rose into a most terrible storm, and the tavern rocked on its foundations. We were all frightened to death and eagerly awaited the first break of daylight. And, would you believe it, sir, when morning came, the great white oak stick, hewed and squared into which was mortised the sign 'Victor Moross Tavern' had been twisted into matchwood, and lay a complete ruin on the ground before the door. But, sir, the word of a gentleman on it, not a shingle, not a piece of fence board, not another thing around the tavern, had been touched.
“As soon as my father saw the destruction of his massive sign post, he recognized the hand of the Lord, and immediately recalled the good priest's words; and from the moment to the hour of his death, years after, Victor Moross never again sold a drop of liquor at his tavern."
As great of a tale as this is, it should be noted that Christopher Moross was only 11 years old when Richard died, and it isn’t clear from his story what year the so-called prophecy happened. So, there could be some embellishment in the old man’s yarn.
The Moross House
The Moross House was built on land that had been owned by Victor Moross since he bought it from Leon and Renee Gouin in 1834 for $550, the equivalent of about $17,500 in 2025, when adjusted for inflation. The Gouins were said to have paid for the parcel in Cadillac's time with fowl, eggs and grain.
It would be one of two houses Christopher Moross built on the property. The other was built behind the Moross House, facing Woodbridge Street. Christopher Moross would live in the Woodbridge Street property until about 1859, and rented the one on East Jefferson for extra income. The date of this second house’s demolition is unknown.
Despite most sources over the years citing 1840 as when the Moross House was built, there are several facts that bring that date into question, yet do not disprove it.
The first record of someone living in the Moross House was the 1850 census, which lists William Cook, Detroit city attorney, as the occupant. This means the house was built after the 1840 census, but it also is unlikely that it sat unoccupied for very long before Cook moved in.
Next, land records show that Victor Moross sold the land where the house sits to his son in 1849. Though it is possible that Christopher Moross built two houses on land still owned by father, it would make more sense if he constructed them after the younger Moross acquired the land. Further, the purchase price was $500, or about $19,000 in 2025 value, when adjusted for inflation. That price seems more in line with vacant land than developed property, but it is possible the father would have given his son a family discount or, because Christopher had built the houses, their value wasn’t factored into the cost.
Adding to the confusion is the fact that Victor Moross’ will, dated Nov. 30, 1859, oddly deeded to his son the same land he had sold to him a decade earlier. Did he simply forget the transaction?
The will read, "I give and bequeath to my son Christopher Moross ... the parcel of land in the City of Detroit, Wayne County, Michigan, being the same piece of land on which said Chistopher has erected two brick houses."
As the City of Detroit’s historic designation report states: “Given that the land was owned in the family, the speculation that the house predates 1849 could be true. … Given the price and the likelihood that Christopher Moross would have bought the land before building on it, it seems reasonable to assign a date of circa 1849. This accords well with the known facts regarding the similar houses in Corktown.”
The house’s design is considered to be of the modified Greek Revival style, though has sometimes been described as being in the Federal style. However, its date of construction was well after the end of that period, and the house lacks the “delicate elegance and attenuated proportions of the Federal style,” the City’s local historic report notes.
It is a typical three-bay brick house on a limestone foundation, trimmed in limestone and white-painted wood. There is a cellar, with three rooms on the main floor and four upstairs. Narrow front and back staircases connect the two floors.
Interestingly, there are chimneys on the house’s east wall, but they are false, having been apparently built purely for symmetry’s sake. The only fireplaces in the home are in the double parlors on the home’s west side.
A rear two-story wing was added to the Moross House, built at an unknown date, and set on a dog-leg angle because of an oblique property line. It is lower than the main house, so that the second floor of the house is on two levels.
The ‘King of the Walk’
Though definitive information on homes this old is all but impossible to nail down with 100 percent accuracy, even in the age of the Internet, quite a bit is known about the man who built it.
Christopher Moross was born on the Moran farm on Jefferson Avenue on March 1, 1821, and as a boy, he went to the Catholic seminary. He opened his brickyard at Chene and Canfield streets when he was about 21 years old, and Moross bricks were used for many of the churches, commercial buildings and hotels in the Motor City's pre-motor days. Moross would also serve as a deputy sheriff.
In 1846, he married into another old Detroit French family, when he got hitched to Emily Beaubien Cicotte. There is a Cicotte Street on the city’s west side; Beaubien Street is on the near east.
During the Civil War, Moross switched careers, running a livery stable downtown and furnishing horses to the federal government. He would buy a horse for around $70 to $80 (about $1,800 to $2,000 in 2025) and then flip them to Uncle Sam for as much as $120 (about $3,000). Moross' stable was on Monroe near Campus Martius, where One Campus Martius now stands.
"His love for good horses was a passion until recent times," the Evening News wrote Dec. 27, 1900, while reporting that the 79-year-old was in ill health. "This remarkably well-preserved old man, even after the age of 70, was wont to take his fast mare and race on the ice of the River Rouge, waving his long whip with all the vigor of a young man."
Moross was also given the nickname "King of the Walk" because of his passion for also racing his horses through downtown streets, forcing pedestrians to jump out of his way.
After moving from the home on Woodbridge Street around 1859, Moross lived in the same house at 291 Beaubien (after the city's addresses were renumbered in 1920, that would now be 1913 Beaubien St. and under Ford Field) for 47 years. There, he had a farm, where, the Free Press reported Feb. 18, 1876, someone had stolen one of his cows.
Moross was considered one of the city’s forefathers, given that he was among the last of the city’s old French inhabitants.
"He was always of a bright and cheery disposition and did many kindnesses wherever he could find them to do," the Detroit Free Press wrote Jan. 7, 1901. "His attractive round face, always smiling but firm, surrounded by a halo of white hair, was a welcome sight wherever he went among his many friends."
One exception to that “cheery disposition” was when he was arrested July 21, 1870, for assaulting his brother-in-law James J. Cicotte. He was convicted of assault and battery and fined $20, the equivalent of about $500 in 2025. "The fight was the culmination of a family quarrel which had its origin years ago ... in the disposition of certain parcels of real estate," the Free Press reported July 23, 1870.
Christopher Moross died at age 79 on Jan. 6, 1901, and was interred at Mt. Elliott Cemetery next to his wife, who passed away Nov. 16, 1898, at age 78. Christopher Moross’ funeral was held at Sts. Peter & Paul Jesuit Church.
The history of the house
A shipbuilder named James N. Jones lived in the house in the mid-1860s, and for reasons that aren’t entirely clear, led to the house being dubbed the James N. Jones House when it was surveyed for the federal Historic American Buildings Survey in 1936. Jones neither owned it nor was a figure of particular historical significance, so it’s unclear why his name, among all the others who lived there, was attached to it.
In 1872, the Moross House was leased to Freeman Norvell, who came to Detroit when his father, U.S. Sen. John Norvell, was appointed the city's postmaster general. Freeman Norvell served in the Mexican and Civil wars and then returned to civilian life, becoming editor and part-owner of the Detroit Free Press. After resigning from the paper over political differences, Norvell became influential in the Detroit Board of Education. In 1877, Col. Samuel M. Mansfield of the Corps of Engineers moved in. In the mid-1880s, the house was inhabited by Millard T. Conklin and his family. Conklin was treasurer and general manager of the Fulton Iron & Engine Works. The Conklins moved out in 1899, and in moved the Rev. Alfred H. Barr, pastor of the Jefferson Avenue Presbyterian Church. It would then go on to become the home of bridge engineer Harold Baker, lawyer George Stevenson and Harold Fuller, a livery stable owner.
In 1920, Christopher Moross’ heirs sold the house to the Beaver Realty Co., which would occupy it for 45 years, occupying the building until 1965, when it became vacant. But after closing its doors, the fate of the Moross House was thrown into question. Developers eyed the property as prime real estate along one of Detroit’s main thoroughfares, either for a parking lot or new commercial development. Given that Detroit had already demolished the city’s first skyscraper in 1956, its historic Old City Hall in 1961, and the landmark Majestic Building in 1961-62, this small home amid a business district seemed to be next.
What would happen, however, would mark not only one of the earliest examples of successful historic preservation in Detroit and a Herculean restoration effort, but the first historic preservation project in the city funded through the federal Housing Act of 1966.
Saving a link to the past for future generations
In the 1960s, Mayor Jerome Cavanagh tasked the historical society with making a list of the buildings and sites in the city that should be preserved to "save the few reminders of our great heritage and historical tradition." The Moross House, unsurprisingly, made that list.
In 1963, the National Park Services and the American Institute of Architects published a list of Detroit buildings most deserving of preservation. "At the top of the list was the Jones House," the Free Press wrote July 6, 1968. Nearly three decades earlier, the 1936 federal buildings survey had noted that the Moross House was "possessing exceptional historic or architectural interest and as being worthy of most careful preservation."
Meanwhile, Harry W. Theisen, a lawyer in his 40s and self-proclaimed "history nut," bought the house in 1965 specifically to ensure that it would not be demolished. Theisen called the house "the heart and soul of early Detroit - something which should be saved."
Theisen quickly became inundated by offers and pressure to sell the property, but was adamant about preventing the house’s demolition. On March 5, 1967, the Free Press published an article about the Moross House headlined, "Will Detroit history again tumble?"
Besides the Moross House, "all we have left of that early French period now, besides some descendants of our founders, are the family names on our streets,” reporter Pauline Sterling wrote in the article. "In Detroit right now, there is a need for people to be concerned, articulate and moved to take action before its oldest brick house gives way to another parking lot."
This article kick-started an effort that would lead to the house's preservation.
W. Joseph Starrs, coordinator of urban renewal for the City of Detroit and a preservation-minded member of the Detroit Housing Commission, called an "emergency meeting" to brainstorm a plan to save the house. Those attending the summit in late March 1967, held at the Builders Exchange of Detroit and Michigan across from the old house, were Theisen; Carla Schumann and Ruth Hough of the Detroit Garden Center; Mrs. Robert H. Healey of the Junior League; William C. Dennis of the Builders Exchange; Henry Brown, director of the Detroit Historical Museum; and Charles McCafferty of the City Plan Commission. Among the lot, Starrs is given credit for doing the most legwork and for being the one who made the house’s preservation possible.
The Garden Center had been serving the metropolitan area's green thumbs since 1932, but had become inactive and homeless after its previous location was torn down. Membership dropped from several thousand to about 500 by 1967, but those who stayed were active and kept an eye out for new digs. The Moross House was deemed a perfect fit, and would allow the nonprofit to curate an 1840s garden and provide a home for its extensive horticultural library, which would be available to the public.
The cost of buying the house and its restoration was pegged at $134,000, the equivalent of about $1.3 million in 2025.
On Oct. 2, 1967, the Detroit Common Council approved plans to buy the house, pending federal approval of a $67,000 matching grant. The plan was contingent on the City raising half the cost, which was paid for by $50,000 from the Builders Exchange and $17,000 from the Detroit Garden Club. The former was an organization of the commercial building industry whose members donated materials and labor and services to aid in the restoration.
In the summer of 1968, Detroit received federal approval of the grant, and the City closed on the purchase of the house in 1969. Work was expected to get under way and wrap that same year, but the start of restoration would be delayed until June 1971. Brown, the historic museum’s director who had helped coordinate the project, died in February 1970. Then a slumping economy led some of the contractors to back off their commitments of free labor and materials.
Meanwhile, the house was designated a Michigan State Historic Site in 1971, and added to the National Register of Historic Places on Jan. 13, 1972. Weeks told the Free Press for a Sept. 24, 1972, article that "the Moross House will be the kind of place that all Detroiters will enjoy visiting."
The one-year project would end up taking three, and the estimated cost of $134,000 wound up being closer to $250,000, the equivalent of about $1.8 million in 2025.
Leonard Simons, president of the Detroit Historical Commission, would jokingly call it "the most expensive house in the city of Detroit," but he said it was money well spent.
Because what a restoration effort it was.
Going back 133 years in time
"Painstaking restorations have been made in the building ... in order to 'take it back' (the preservationists' term) to the 1840s," the Detroit Free Press wrote Feb. 3, 1973. "Some doorways may not be square, and the plaster walls may bulge, but that is normal in a 130-year-old house."
The original floor, with its 5-and-a-half-inch pine planks more than an inch thick - needed pitching. There were 15 coats of paint on the old woodwork, which Robert Connor of the city's building maintenance team stripped 130 years' worth of paint from to get to the original finish. Five layers of wallpaper were removed.
"We have tried to retain as much as possible the original fabric of the building," Solan Weeks, director of the Detroit Historical Museum, told the paper. "Renovating old plaster, floors and woodwork was more costly than it would have been to tear it out and substitute new, but if we replaced everything that needed replacing, we would no longer have an old house."
Side windows had been added to the house at some point, and it was decided to brick them up to restore the house's original fenestration. One of the old "six-over-six" windows was still present in the west wall, and new ones were installed in the other windows to match.
The Italianate front door that had been a later addition was replaced by a simple recessed design to match what would have been there more than a century earlier. The two parlor fireplace mantels were made new in the period style, but otherwise the parlor woodwork was believed to all be original and dating to the 1840s, as was the staircase in the hall.
The brick exterior had been painted red and then with several coats of gray. The restoration team tried sandblasting a test area, but it destroyed the smooth character of the brick. Then they tried sandblasting with ground-up corncobs, but that pockmarked the surface.
"The final solution was to burn off the paint with torches, followed by hand grinders to remove ash and debris," said John F. Monahan, chairman of the Builders Exchange's restoration committee. "It left a smooth finish. Sandblasting would have taken a week; grinding took a month and a half."
In 1973, the house's grounds were restored by the Detroit Garden Center, which followed plans and planting typical of gardens that would have been found in Detroit before the Civil War. The house’s terrace was covered with bricks that had paved Beaubien Street before the Renaissance Center was built.
Under the Garden Center, the dining room and kitchen were turned into an office and meeting room. Two upstairs bedrooms were combined into one large room to house the organization's horticultural library. The group restored the front hall and parlor to look as they might have more than a century earlier. The Detroit Historical Museum lent furniture, a patterned rug, lace curtains and other decorations from the mid-1800s to complete the look.
"We raided the museum collection and half the attics in Detroit and Grosse Pointe," Jim Conway, curator of urban history for the Detroit Historical Museum, joked to The News for an article that ran May 23, 1973. For instance, the sofa in the parlor once belonged to Sen. Thomas W. Palmer of Palmer Park fame. Portraits of De Garmo Jones, mayor of Detroit from 1839 to 1840, and first lady Catharine Jones, were hung. A jardiniere boule inlaid with brass and tortoise shell that was of "museum quality," Conway said, dated back to the late 1700s.
On May 22, 1973, a dedication ceremony was held - the same rainy day that ground was broken for the Renaissance Center. Mayor Roman Gribbs cut a bright green ribbon that had wrapped up the house like a gigantic present and then handed the keys to Schumann, president of the Garden Center. Father Frederick Bodde, the great-grandnephew of Christopher Moross, spoke, calling on God to bless those who had part in "the history, the preservation and the restoration of the house" and efforts to "reflect on the past and be grateful to those who were here before us," The Detroit News wrote the next day.
An open house was held over the following two days.
By 1977, the center's library had more than 4,000 volumes, and the organization had rebounded to have about 500 members. By 2003, its library numbered 5,500 volumes. Anyone could consult the books in the library, but only members were allowed to take them home. Membership was $5 a year or $7.50 for a couple. For the next 27 years, the center would continue to offer classes, lectures and other programs from the house.
Starrs, the unheralded savior of the house, died in December 1985. Theisen, who stepped up to buy the house and keep it from being torn down, died May 9, 1998, at age 88.
A change of fortunes leads to a change of heart
In 2004, the Moross House was made a local historic district by the City of Detroit. But that’s about when things started to change, both in terms of the City’s approach to the house and the City’s financial outlook as it careened toward filing for bankruptcy.
The City's budget department recommended that the Garden Center’s rent be dramatically increased in order to address Mayor Kwame Kilpatrick's call for a 13 percent cut to the historical department's operating budget. The City had been paying for exterior maintenance, but the DGC, which had about 300 members at the time, handled utilities, insurance, cleaning and snow removal.
The City told the nonprofit that it was increasing its rent from $1,200 a year to $18,000 a year - a 1,400 percent increase - and would seek a new tenant for the Moross House if the center couldn't cough up the extra funds.
"We can no longer afford to subsidize the garden club," Kilpatrick spokesman Jamaine Dickens told the Free Press for an April 30, 2003, story.
Meanwhile, Dennis Zembala, director of the Detroit Historical Museum, yanked the artifacts on loan to the Moross House in late 2003 or early 2004. It is unclear whether that was his decision or he was following orders from the mayor’s administration.
In February 2004, the City notified the Garden Center that it would have to move out of the Moross House by March 10 of that year, or face eviction. The Garden Center said it believed it had a lease through June 30, but the City contended that the lease expired in 2002 and had been month-to-month since then.
"What finer use could there be in that building than those programs serving the citizens of Detroit and the surrounding area?” Detroit resident Ann H. Kerwin wrote in a letter to the editor published in the March 5, 2004, edition of the Detroit Free Press. “If this is an effort to add a few dollars of income to the city treasury, it is a very shortsighted one that sacrifices our values and our history for a few dollars."
The Garden Center, unable to afford the rent hike, moved to 1900 E. Jefferson Ave., the former Jefferson Terminal Warehouse. Meanwhile, the Moross House sat empty while the Detroit Historical Museum said it continued to review proposals from several potential tenants.
After the Garden Center was ousted, the Moross House became vacant, and "vagrants and stray dogs (were) seeking shelter in the potting shed."
The cash-strapped City decided to put the house up for sale.
Bringing the 1840s into the 21st century
Detroit couple S. Roland and Barbara Scott bought the house from the City in October 2005 for $200,000. At the time of the purchase, Scott said he intended to use the first floor of the Moross House for his law office.
"We want to bring this back as a historic landmark in this city,” S. Roland Scott told the Free Press for an Oct. 21, 2005, article. "We've been fans of the building for a long time."
By the summer of 2021, the Detroit Garden Center ceased to exist as a legal entity.
In 2016, Schinkel Fine Art LLC, run by the mother-son duo of Linda Schinkel Rodney and Theodore "Teddy" Schinkel, acquired the Moross House and initially used it as their studio. The internationally acclaimed art and design firm blends metalwork with painting, colorful lighting and other media, and has had exhibitions across the country and in Europe.
They also founded Conceptions Connect in 2019, a nonprofit charity that partners with Kids Kicking Cancer and the Detroit Public Schools Community District to expose the city’s youth to the arts.
The Schinkels then decided to open the ground floor as a gallery and event space. As part of the conversion, the plaster that had been painstakingly restored was removed and the interior of the house was taken from being an 1840s time capsule into a modern gallery space highlighting the exposed Moross brick. A gourmet kitchen space was added. The upper level is used as a studio and artist loft. The garden space is maintained and continues to be home to one of the oldest wisteria plants in the Midwest. It's used as a "hidden retreat and courtyard event space" called the Detroit Secret Garden.
"Our work looks fine in a traditional gallery, white box setting, but it looks best in homes and interesting spaces, and that is what led us into first acquiring this property," Teddy Schinkel told Great Lakes By Design magazine. "It is a rather ideal canvas for viewing art and talking about the emotional connection with art works. Then, you have the historical significance of the property, which merges with the story of our artwork, work that is born in and from Detroit."
Now called the Schinkel Fine Art at Moross House, a grand opening and inaugural exhibition for the gallery, called "Threads of Connection," ran from October to December 2024.