(FORT MORGAN, Ala.) Nov. 18 - The gates are just a formality. The lock doesn't keep anyone out. The dilapidated building's only visitor has the key.
"A lot of people don't even know it's here," says 81-year-old Bill Ross. Ross is the grounds keeper and only friend of a place that has been forgotten by almost everyone, including its owner- the governorship of Alabama. The governor's beach house is the biggest piece of beach front property on the Fort Morgan Peninsula, but it is also the loneliest. A governor hasn't stayed here in more than 10 years.
It is an almost $2 million white elephant that neighbors say the state can't decide what to do with. The state won't let it go. They won't fix it either. So it just sits there, going to waste and wasting away.
"The iron work is rusting pretty bad," says Ross. "It would really be nice to have it all fixed up and working again."
At one time, it was a haven for wheelchair bound Governor George Wallace, following his assassination attempt.
Nelwyn Sellers used to go to Wallace's Christmas parties.
"He would come in by helicopter and state troopers would carry him in, then pick him up and put him on the sand," Sellers says.
Since Governor Fob James in the mid 90s, she says no one has warmed the place's walls. In fact, there have been no walls since Hurricane Danny in 1997. The roof was destroyed and the inside stripped.
"Repairs started and they began fixing the roof. They even put new windows in," says neighbor Ralph Gilges. "Then, abruptly, work stopped."
That's about when Ralph Gilges bought his house next door. It's also the time Governor Don Siegelman discovered he couldn't sell the place. The subdivision's developers gave the property to the state as a gift in 1963 on two conditions. It was to be used and maintained by the person in office or it would go back to the developers. A clause that has been called into question.
"I don't think it reflects well on the state to have something so visible to so many people that looks so horrible," says Gilges.
A few years ago, one of the developers' sons tried to get the house back. Alabama won the suit, claiming it maintained the property.
"In other words, they got me on a budget all by myself and I just look out for the place," says Ross.
For 10-thousand dollars a year, he watches paint peel and wrought iron rust. He's only allowed menial tasks, like mowing the lawn and mending the roof. The current Governor has said no other public funds will be funneled its way.
"That's probably something an outgoing governor needs to deal with because there are so many other things that need to be done," says Governor Riley.
Brand new columns sit, 10 years later, in piles on the floor. The windows are blind to their view. Bill Ross just cuts the grass and makes sure the roof doesn't leak. It's his humble way of fighting off time until the day his services are no longer needed.
"I'd love to see it all fixed up," says Ross. "Course I might lose my old piddly job, but I'd love to see it all fixed up."
Come Christmas time, Bill will put little red bows all along the fence. Bows that he bought himself. He'll be wrapping a gift for the Governor's office, that for now, remains unopen.
The Governor's office says there are some private groups looking into renovating the mansion with private funds. According to the Governor's office, those groups have toured the house. NBC 15 was not allowed inside.
