The Bench Was Empty: A Love Letter from 1919
A Reflection on Memory, Heirloom Design, and Restored Antique Furniture
At Acanthus Home, we believe true luxury lies not only in craftsmanship, but in memory. Our curated antique collection, comprising restored heirloom furniture and emotionally resonant pieces, anchors interiors in both beauty and meaning. In the softened edge of a writing desk, worn by time and repetition. In the patina that catches the light just so, speaking of decades passed with grace.
And sometimes, in a story. A letter. A bench.
An Archive of Emotion
In the summer of 1919, a young man named Frank took a quiet walk through what was then Westlake Park (now MacArthur Park) in Los Angeles. It was a Saturday evening. Music drifted across the water. Golden light shimmered in the trees. The city, still healing from war, seemed suspended in a moment of delicate calm.
But Frank wasn’t simply wandering. He was revisiting a place that held meaning: their bench. A small, unremarkable spot to most, but to him, it was the site of shared laughter, soft words, and the quiet, reverent rhythm of love.
He made himself a promise: If the bench is empty, it’s a good sign.
And it was.
A Place Remembered
Westlake Park, Los Angeles — Late 1800s
This hand-tinted postcard shows the boathouse and lakeside benches that once framed the heart of the park. The trees, still young and slender, suggest this scene predates Frank’s letter by at least a generation.
By the time he returned to their bench in 1919, those same trees had grown fuller, more sheltering. Even the trees remembered. They formed a living archive in shade and silence.
With gratitude to the Los Angeles Conservancy Archives for this historical image.
Westlake Park, Los Angeles — Circa 1915
Frank captured this image of Della standing quietly at the water’s edge, near the bench where their story would return. It wasn’t just memory. It was intention made visible. A gesture of reverence, composed with tenderness and quiet devotion. In pressing the shutter, he became both witness and keeper. He preserved presence in the way a patina preserves touch, or a velvet seat remembers form.
Photograph from a private collection.
Today, Westlake Park is known as MacArthur Park. The name changed in 1942 to honor General Douglas MacArthur. And yet, much of the landscape remains. The benches and towering trees continue to hold the shape of memory, even as the city evolves.
The difference between the postcard and the later photograph is subtle but telling. In the postcard, the palms and sycamores are young, newly rooted. By 1915, they have matured. They cast deeper shade and settle into the rhythm of the park.
This is the kind of detail that matters. In anthropology, even the growth of trees becomes a timestamp. A visual echo of the passing years. And for interior designers who work with heirlooms, it is a reminder. Every surface holds time, sometimes in woodgrain, sometimes in shadow.
The photograph above was not merely memory. It was intention. An image composed to hold a moment. To preserve the presence of the woman he loved, framed against the lake where their story unfolded. In that single gesture, a photograph, he became both witness and archivist. And in doing so, he left us not only a letter, but a vision.
The Letter as Artifact, the Bench as Evidence
In anthropology, we speak of material culture. Objects become records of human behavior. And what is a love letter, if not a sacred artifact? What is a bench, if not evidence of presence? They are not mere relics. They are emotional anchors and cultural documents in disguise.
At Acanthus Home, we often say that antiques are not merely objects. They are evidence. Tangible proof that someone once paused here. Sat. Waited. Loved. Dreamed. Endured. Each worn surface and softened edge is a quiet witness to lives fully lived.
Frank’s letter, gently creased by time and penned on softly yellowed stationery, is more than a piece of correspondence. It is a living artifact. A testament to presence. To hope held in ink. To the sacred act of remembering.
Because in the end, it’s not only about what was said, but about what remains. The gesture. The emotion folded into every line. The quiet way love insists on being remembered.
Just as Frank’s words endure beyond the page, our restored antiques endure beyond their form. They do not simply fill a space. They hold it with feeling, with memory, with grace.
The Romance Within the Restoration
When we reupholster a tufted Victorian settee or restore a 19th-century chair, our work honors more than form. It honors feeling. These bespoke antique upholstery projects are where emotional resonance meets luxury furniture restoration. We are honoring it. We ask: Who sat here? What gestures wore themselves into the grain, soft and deliberate, repeated until the wood remembered?
These questions aren’t incidental. They are integral to how we curate. We restore not to impress, but to remember. Not for novelty, but for narrative. For the interior designer who curates with story rather than trend, and for the collector who values provenance over polish, our pieces offer more than presence. They offer emotional gravity. They are architecture for memory.
The Unnamed Archive
Not every heirloom arrives with a letter tucked beneath its cushion. Some arrive shrouded in silence. Anonymous, but no less meaningful. And still, they speak.
A Settee That Speaks
Take The Midnight Leopard. A Victorian settee of sweeping elegance. Its precise biography is unknown, but its presence is undeniable. It was acquired in the historic village of Jackson, New Hampshire, a place known for its artist colonies and quiet architectural charm. There, nestled in the White Mountains, the piece had lived a former life, waiting quietly to be remembered.
When it arrived at our Los Angeles studio, it came without documentation, but with unmistakable grace. A showpiece restored with reverence and designed for interiors that value story over trend.
Upholstered in a couture-grade wool bouclé from the Temperley London x Romo collaboration, The Midnight Leopard merges historical romance with a bold, modern edge. Midnight blue and muted green shimmer in the light, forming a subtle leopard motif that suggests something untamed. Something remembered, if only in feeling.
In this way, it is not unlike Frank’s bench. An object that bears witness. A piece that holds emotion, even when names have faded.
At Acanthus Home, we believe that the absence of a documented story does not diminish a piece’s emotional weight. It deepens its mystery. And for the discerning collector or interior designer, this becomes an invitation to curate with beauty, intention, and imagination.
The Midnight Leopard
Where the Anthropological Meets the Emotional
Frank’s letter is yellowed with time and creased at the folds. But its tenderness remains vivid. He writes not simply of longing, but of presence. He imagines her beside him, her head on his shoulder, her smile sleepy and warm.
This is the kind of memory that settles into woodgrain and whispers through worn velvet. That lives in cane weaves and in the hush of a drawer pulled open after years. It’s the memory we seek to preserve—in form, in feeling, and in furniture. The kind of resonance you can feel in a space when heirlooms are placed not just as objects, but as anchors of history and emotion.
And for interior designers, this becomes a powerful design principle. To layer space with objects that remember.
A Line That Lingers
“When I came to the bench—it was empty.”
It is a moment of absence and presence, all at once. A pause that holds everything. In that stillness, Frank finds her again. And in that same stillness, our work lives. Giving voice to what might otherwise be forgotten.
For interior designers, stories like Frank’s are not just nostalgic. They are design directives. They remind us that a bench can anchor longing, a desk can echo handwritten vows, and a settee can cradle generations. These are not accessories. They are vessels of continuity. They can carry a legacy forward. When thoughtfully placed, heirloom pieces imbue a space with layers of history, tenderness, and time. These are qualities no new object can replicate.
At Acanthus Home, we don’t just restore furniture. We reawaken feeling. Every piece in our curated antique furniture collection is chosen for its ability to evoke memory, emotion, and meaning. Whether you’re an interior designer seeking heirloom pieces for luxury interiors or a collector who values decor with history, we invite you to live with intention.
Live With Meaning. Design With Memory.
Frank’s letter closes with quiet certainty:
“So long sweetheart. Be good to yourself. No blues. And waiting is going to end pretty soon.”
Over a century has passed since those words were folded into an envelope. And yet they remain—soft as worn linen, steady as a heartbeat. That is the nature of true heirlooms. Not to merely survive, but to endure. Emotionally. Elegantly. Unforgettably.
First page of the letter.
Read the Full 1919 Love Letter →
Then explore the curated collection inspired by lives well loved, and furniture well worn.Continue the story:
If this letter moved you, you may also find resonance in:
The Chair, the Bench, and the Spaces In Between: A quiet biography in objects
Inheritance Without Ownership: On legacy and preservation
The Afterlife of Objects: Why antiques still matter
