Somerset Center — At first glance, McCourtie Park looks like any other roadside stop along the quiet stretch of road winding through the Irish Hills. But all is not what it seems. A bridge appears to be woven from rope yet never sways. A tree rises from the ground only to reveal itself as a chimney. Concrete convincingly masquerades as wood and bark.
This unlikely place is the legacy of William Herbert Lee “Herb” McCourtie: lawyer, cement magnate, generous host, and a man who knew what went on during the bootlegging days of Prohibition.
Once called Aiden’s Lair, the estate is both an outdoor folk-art gallery and a memorial to a great Michigander. Today, it’s one of Michigan’s hidden gems. It’s one of the most eccentric public parks you’ll find and a perfect place to spend an afternoon.
From Farm to Fortune
William McCourtie was born in 1872 on a farm near Somerset Center. The eighth child in a hardworking Southeast Michigan family, farm life never suited him. McCourtie set his sights higher, pursuing law and graduating from the University of Michigan Law School in the 1890s. His career took him to Dallas, where oil was booming and fortunes were being made overnight.
McCourtie took that bet, not just writing oil and gas leases, but investing in them himself. The gamble paid off.
Still, his most enduring success came almost by accident. During a visit back to Michigan, McCourtie overheard talk of profits being made manufacturing cement. One of cement’s key ingredients, marl, sounded suspiciously like soil he remembered from his family’s farm. Tests confirmed it.
That led to McCourtie to return to Michigan and get involved with the Peninsular Portland Cement Company in nearby Cement City.
Building Aiden’s Lair
Cement brought McCourtie stability and wealth.
In 1924, he purchased the old family farm, a 42-acre parcel he would soon transform into an elaborate summer estate. The project cost more than $500,000—roughly $10 million in today’s dollars—and turned a simple farmstead into a private retreat.
His additions to the family home included a large ballroom, a dormitory-style guest room, and outdoor amenities that were beyond extravagant for the small Michigan community. There were spring-fed pools, a trout pond, and much more.
Cement, sourced from McCourtie’s own business interests, was everywhere throughout the estate. Yet McCourtie often chose to disguise it.
While working in Texas, McCourtie encountered trabajo rústico, a Mexican folk art tradition that translates to “rustic work.” The technique involves sculpting wet concrete by hand to resemble wood, rope, bark, and thatch.
To bring the style to Somerset Center, McCourtie hired artisans George Cardosa and Ralph Corona. Together, they created one of the largest collections of trabajo rústico structures in the U.S., hiding in a small Michigan village.
Seventeen bridges span the stream winding through the property, each one distinct. Some resemble rough-hewn logs. Others mimic rope bridges or rustic cottages. Tool marks, wood grain, and even frayed fibers are rendered in painstaking detail.
There are even two towering birdhouses designed for purple martins. One contains 192 chambers and the other 288.
Prohibition-Era Indiscretions
This wasn’t all that McCourtie had up his sleeve though.
Hidden from the road, McCourtie constructed a “rathskeller,” a traditional underground tavern often associated with Germany.
Inside were multiple rooms finished with dark oak paneling, leaded windows, brass foot rails, and a fully stocked English-style bar. A swinging door led to a card room rumored to host all-night poker games. On either side of the apartment, guests could find heated garages complete with electric doors.
Yet, what truly fueled speculation was the vault. To reach the rathskeller, visitors passed through a 10-foot-square vault with a massive steel door, combination lock, and inner brass-grilled gate. A hidden trapdoor above only added to the intrigue.
All of this fueled many rumors of high-end speakeasies and guests who may have even included figures like Al Capone and Henry Ford. This just further adds to the intrigue of the small inconspicuous park.
Enduring Cement
Those who knew McCourtie remembered him as generous and warm. He hosted lavish parties but never forgot his farm-boy roots. Frequently, he would open his estate to the community—even during the hardships of the Great Depression.
McCourtie died in 1933 at just 61 years old, after a long illness. In the years that followed, Aiden’s Lair passed through a series of owners, none able to maintain the sprawling property. Eventually, Somerset Township stepped in, purchasing the land in 1987.
The grand house was lost to time, but the cement endured. Volunteers cleared brush, stabilized the bridges, and restored the grounds and the rathskeller. In 1991, the estate was listed on the Michigan State Register of Historic Places, followed by the National Register of Historical Places in 1992.
Today, McCourtie Park is free and open to the public from dawn to dusk. All seventeen cement bridges remain. Two chimneys sculpted to look like trees still rise above the underground rathskeller, which occasionally opens to visitors. Two spring-fed ponds continue to shimmer in the sun.
Next time you are driving US-12, slow down. Look twice. Pull off the road and wander a bit in this not-so-ordinary park.
Elyse Apel, a graduate of Hillsdale College, is a reporter for The Center Square covering Colorado and Michigan. Her work has appeared in a range of national outlets, including the Washington Examiner, The American Spectator, and The Daily Wire.
