Q. Recently, I was doing a Wonderword puzzle about the Winchester House in San Jose, Calif. The introduction said the house has 52 skylights, 47 fireplaces, 40 staircases, 467 doorways and 13 bathrooms. After finding all the clues, I was left with the phrase "Number of windows." But it doesn't say how many windows there are. Do you know?
-- R.K., of Prescott Valley, Ariz. (formerly of Evansville)
A. Too bad Charlton Heston first came along in 1923, a year after Sarah Winchester died. Maybe he could have convinced her that guns don't kill people, people kill people.
She certainly could have used the reassurance. Winchester was the wife of William Wirt Winchester, the second president of the Winchester Repeating Arms Co. As the story goes, Sarah was deeply saddened by the death of her only child at 6 weeks of age and became even more depressed when her beloved husband died of tuberculosis at age 43 in 1881.
For solace, she turned to a Boston medium who fed into the young widow's melancholy by telling her that she was being haunted by the ghosts of the thousands of victims killed by Winchester guns. The solution? She would have to move West from her comfortable home in New Haven, Conn., and start building.
"Build a home for yourself -- and for the spirits who have fallen from this terrible weapon, too," the medium supposedly told her. "You can never stop building the house. If you continue building, you will live. Stop, and you will die."
With a $20 million inheritance and a 50 percent stake in the gun company that netted her an additional $1,000 a day, she moved to San Jose, bought an eight-room farmhouse under construction and kept right on building. Nonstop. Until the day she died on Sept. 4, 1922, at the age of 82. (Legend has it that carpenters dropped their hammers the moment her heart stopped.)
For 38 years, it grew like a weed, swallowing up everything in its path. Want to study the blueprints? Don't even ask. Winchester reportedly sketched what she wanted on paper or even tablecloths and told the builders to have at it.
What resulted was a 160-room house that ranged from the awesome to the downright kooky. On one hand, she crafted herself a home decades ahead of its time, complete with a forced-air heating system, button-operated gas lights, three working elevators and a shower such that the short woman could bathe without wetting her hair.
Other features are simply dumbfounding -- windows built into floors, staircases that lead to nowhere, doors that open onto blank walls and upside-down posts. It was said she held nightly seances and became fixated with the number 13 -- clotheshooks are in multiples of 13, the spider-web-patterned Tiffany window has 13 colored stones and 13 California fan palms line the driveway. Even an expensive, imported chandelier with 12 candleholders had to be altered to accommodate a 13th, and she wrote her will in 13 sections and signed it 13 times. (She did, however, bequeath $2 million for the treatment of TB at New Haven Hospital.)
By April 1906, the monstrosity had reached seven stories high, but the San Francisco earthquake knocked it back to four. Only the home's unique floating foundation saved it from total collapse. During the disaster, the eccentric woman was trapped for a short time in her bedroom. When she emerged, she reportedly said the quake was a sign that she was spending too much time in her front rooms, so she promptly boarded up 30 of them, blocking access to her new $3,000 front doors.
By the time she died, she had spent $5.5 million ($70 million in today's bucks) on the house, which included a magnificent garden with 14,000 miniature boxwood hedges, a greenhouse, garage, car wash -- and 1,257 window frames with approximately 10,000 panes of glass. (Nobody has taken a formal count.)
It takes more than 20,000 gallons to paint the place. As soon as they finish, they have to start all over again. (Sounds like it takes an equivalent amount of Windex to do the windows.)
After she died, a niece hauled away and sold the furniture -- eight truckloads a day for nearly seven weeks. Today, the house remains open to visitors (including occasional haunted flashlight tours) -- and every Friday the 13th at 1300 hours, they ring the large bell 13 times in her memory. If you ever visit California, be sure to check out www.winchestermysteryhouse.com before you go.
Q. Is David Conrad, who plays Melinda's husband on "Ghost Whisperer," related to William Conrad?
-- N.M., of Belleville
A. Nope. The original voice of Matt Dillon in the radio version of Gunsmoke was born William Cann on Sept. 27, 1920. I find no evidence that the star of "Cannon" and "Jake and the Fatman" left any offspring after he died of heart failure in 1994. David Conrad was born David Conrad in 1967 in Pittsburgh and is a graduate of Juilliard and Brown.
Q. Could you tell me how to write to the Dalai Lama? Also, do you remember the government information center in PueblO, Colo.? Is this still active, and can you provide an address?
-- Clifford Douglas.
A. This reminds me of the title song of "Jesus Christ Superstar" when Judas tells Jesus, "If you'd come today, you could have reached a whole nation; Israel in 4 B.C. had no mass communication."
So, what do you think? Would Jesus set up www.christ.com or, maybe, www.savior.rel? Please, absolutely no disrespect intended. After all, that's how the current Dalai Lama is getting out his message at www.dalailama.com.
"For as long as space endures and for as long as living beings remain, until then may I too abide to dispel the misery of the world," is the message that greets visitors along with a smiling picture of the high priest of Lamaism.
You are invited to write him at ohhdl@dalailama.com or the old-fashioned way at The Office of His Holiness the Dalai Lama, Thekchen Choeling P.O. McLeon Ganj, Dharamsala H.P. 176219, India.
And, yes, the Federal Citizen Information Center still is going strong, mailing out millions of publications each year. Browse through its offerings at www.pueblo.gsa.gov, call (888) 8-PUEBLO or write the center at Dept. WWW, Pueblo, CO 81009.
Q. I am looking for Citre Shine shampoo and conditioner. I can't find it any longer at Walmart and Target.
-- M.R. of Smithton
A. You'll find "friendliest stores in town" even friendlier -- Schnucks. While not a huge display, five varieties of Citre Shine products were at the Carlyle Avenue store in Belleville Wednesday, including shampoo, conditioner, shine glaze and frizz spray for $3.99-$6.49.
The Citre Shine folks say it should be at most Schnucks stores as well as all over the Internet. They say some major chains won't reveal their distribution policy, so you might try Walgreen's, CVS, etc., too.
Send your questions to Roger Schlueter, Belleville News-Democrat, 120 S. Illinois St., P.O. Box 427, Belleville, IL 62222-0427 or rschlueter@bnd.com
