Grant Henry has worn many hats in his lifetime. Seminary student. Church deacon. Child therapist. Antiques dealer. Bartender. Artist. Husband. Father. Grandfather.
Most notably these days, he's known as the owner of two wildly popular bars, Sister Louisa's Church of the Living Room and Ping Pong Emporium in Atlanta, and Sister Louisa's Church in Athens — both called Church for short.
Now he’s donning a new bonnet: camp counselor.
Not really, but sort of.
In September 2017, Henry bought Camp Cecil Jackson, a shuttered Girl Scout camp in Griffin that encompasses 38 acres of rolling, wooded land, a pond, a lodge, six cabins and two pavilions. He christened the retreat Sanctuary, and over the past 15 months, he has overseen a complete rehab of the structures in preparation for the site’s debut in February 2019 as an event space for weddings, corporate retreats and reunions.
Investing in such a remote, bucolic enterprise might seem like an unlikely endeavor for a man who has built a reputation on buying homes and establishing businesses in Atlanta’s grittier urban areas.
“If I were a psychiatrist, I’m sure I would say it was a way to reconnect with my past,” Henry said as he navigated his white, king cab Toyota Tacoma toward Matthew’s Cafeteria in Tucker for lunch one day in November.
During his teens, Henry spent his summers as a camp counselor at Camp Indian Springs in Crawfordville, Fla. It was a time he recalled with much fondness. He reconnected with a fellow camp counselor on Facebook two years ago, and they spent a weekend together at her home in Florida that proved to be transformative.
“It was so therapeutic, recalling that time as a camp counselor. We sang camp songs together!” Henry said, filling the truck cab with his bellowing laughter. “It was an amazing weekend.”
But there was another reason, too.
“In hindsight, I was also bored,” he said. “I loved creating Church, but do I want to be there every day? No.”
A consummate bargain hunter who peruses eBay, Craigslist and real estate ads as a form of entertainment, Henry came across a campground for sale in the North Georgia mountains. He was poised to buy it when he saw an ad for Camp Cecil Jackson. He liked the location, just 30 miles south of the Atlanta airport. And for someone accustomed to buying real estate in Atlanta, the price seemed unfathomable at $241,000.
He toured the property the next day and made an offer on the spot.
“When I first saw it, I just thought about taking Emilio there,” he said, referring to his grandson.
Henry is unabashed in his devotion to his family. He recently moved into a newly renovated home in Chosewood that backs up to the home his daughter, Mary Grace Fromow, shares with her husband and two sons. Fromow is also Henry’s business manager.
“Mary Grace is my rock,” he said. “She is the voice of reason.”
Henry wasn’t quite sure what he wanted to do with Sanctuary, but he started by buying a four-wheel ATV and a tractor. Along with his friend Richard Garner, he began working at clearing away brush and cutting hiking trails.
“I learned how to run a wood chipper, how to Bush Hog, how to sharpen a chain saw,” he said. “I’m so glad I didn’t hire anyone to do it, because I wouldn’t know the land the way I do. I wouldn’t love it like I do.”
As Henry worked on the land, his vision for Sanctuary came into focus. It would become a retreat for people like him who’d grown hungry for nature and the outdoors. But first, the place needed some style. The structures were all sound, so Henry set out to have siding replaced, ceilings removed, rafters exposed, wood floors refinished and everything painted bright white and forest green.
Unlike the colorful, cluttered look of Henry’s bars, which are filled with artworks he creates by splashing irreverent phrases across thrift store paintings of religious imagery, Sanctuary has a restrained aesthetic.
“There’s no Sister Louisa at Sanctuary,” said Henry. “Sanctuary is the antithesis of Church.”
When it opens for business in February, Sanctuary will be able to host up to 150 people for events at the lodge and provide overnight accommodations for up to 42 people.
A master at juggling projects, Henry is also in the process of launching a smaller event space near Church on Edgewood Avenue in Atlanta. Called Church Annex, the 1,650-square-foot loft-style space features brick walls, a bar and can hold up to 100 people.
It’s just the latest in a long line of what some people might call “undesirable” properties that Henry has bought over the years and transformed into something of value.
“I like to buy things nobody wants,” said Henry. “I like to back-flip into (excrement) and fix it up into something that makes everybody want to draw a little closer. I think it has to do with wanting to instill worth in something.”
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