About Connections: Love it or hate it, history is a map. Those who hate history think it irrelevant; many who love history think it escapism. In truth, history is the clearest road map to how we got here: America in the 21st century.
The Vanderbilts were ubiquitous. Wherever there was a Gilded Age resort, there was a Vanderbilt. In Ashville, Shelburne, and Hyde Park, in Scarborough-on-Hudson and southern New Jersey, in Newport and Stockbridge, their cottages still stand and delight to the present day. As householders or house guests, the Vanderbilts were present wherever the elite congregated.
We use the word discrimination as a pejorative. It stands for prejudice, bigotry and narrow-mindedness. During the Gilded Age, the meaning was different. Discrimination was a virtue, respected as the recognition and understanding of the difference between one thing and another. The Gilded Age elite wished to be discriminating. They wanted others to think they could distinguish the best from among many objects, and then acquire them.
William Henry Vanderbilt instructed his dealer, S. P. Avery, “to acquire, at whatever cost, the best examples of contemporary French art.”
Like discrimination, competition was applauded. The gentile social round of calling and carriage rides, waltzing and dining well, the scent of Orris, the flash of gems, the sounds at the Academy of Music, were punctuated with the tuneless staccato of tennis balls and golf balls, of sails luffing in yacht races, of horses hooves in carriage and horse races. It was sporting to compete; it was far better to win.
The eight children of William Henry Vanderbilt, the grandchildren of Cornelius Vanderbilt, were born between 1843 and 1862. They were, in birth order, Cornelius II, Margaret, William K., Emily Thorn, Florence, Frederick, Lila, and George Washington. They competed with one another to build the best cottage, and thereby prove to be the most discriminating.
It is generally acknowledged that George W. Vanderbilt won the cottage competition when he completed Biltmore in Ashville, North Carolina. The house was designed by Richard Morris Hunt, the gardens by Frederick Law Olmsted. The house has over 200 rooms and rivals, as it was meant to do, the palaces of Europe.
Lila built Shelburne Farms in Vermont. Its position on the shores of Lake Champlain is breathtaking. The architect Robert Robertson was also the architect of Blantyre. Today, Shelburne is a nonprofit house museum, inn, restaurant, and working farm.
Frederick built Idle Hour on the Hudson River in Hyde Park. Designed by McKim, Mead and White, today it is a house museum overseen by the National Park Service.
Margaret built Woodlea in Scarborough, New York. Architectural historian John Foreman calls it “probably the best McKim, Mead and White house extant in Westchester County.” Today, it is on the grounds of the Sleepy Hollow Country Club.
Florham was built in Morris County, New Jersey, by Florence Hamilton Vanderbilt. The house name was a contraction of the builder’s first and middle names. Today, Florham is part of Fairleigh Dickinson University.
The remaining siblings Cornelius, Willie K., and Emily built in Newport and Stockbridge.
The Breakers, Newport
During the Gilded Age, Newport was the social epicenter of America and Ochre Point was the epicenter of Newport. Commanding the Point was the Breakers. It was called a cottage and was indisputably a palace.
Alice (Mrs. Cornelius) Vanderbilt was an aspiring grand dame. She had the house and pocketbook to succeed as a society hostess. She was the wife of the oldest son and that should have given her the position within the family, at least; however, Alice did not have the gravitas to succeed and her husband was a devote churchman and serious moralist. They were out of step with the hilarity of Gilded Age society, hardly capable of being the life of the party. Moreover, Alice had a sister-in-law in hot pursuit of the same goal.
Marble House, Newport
Whoever you thought these people were, you did not imagine Alva Smith Vanderbilt Belmont.
She marched in the streets for workplace safety after the Triangle Shirtwaist factory fire. She marched for a woman’s right to vote, raised funds for the cause, and founded the National Women’s Party.
She climbed the social ladder and, at the zenith, divorced her husband, thus risking ostracism.
Who was she? A factory worker herself? A middle class woman with a social conscious? An outsider with nothing to lose? No, Alva Smith was born to wealth and, as Alva Smith Vanderbilt, was a grand dame and one of the richest women in the world.
At a moment when Alva Smith’s family was struggling to uphold standards in the face of financial ruin, a friend introduced Alva to William Kissam Vanderbilt. When she married him, she saved herself and all her family.
She turned her attention to the grand dame of New York society: Caroline Schermerhorn Astor. Her intention was to unseat her. First, she had to get admitted to society.
The Vanderbilts were indisputably rich. Money was necessary to membership in society but not sufficient. For two generations, the Vanderbilts had been outsiders. The Commodore was not acceptable and his son, William Henry, was not interested. Alva was interested, and so was her husband, Willie K.
The question was how to crash the gates. The answer was a house. In a sea of brownstones, Alva built a gleaming white house on Fifth Avenue. With her friend who was now a countess, Alva planned a house warming.
The newspapers reported that anticipation about who would be invited “disturbed the sleep and occupied the waking hours of social butterflies for over six weeks.” Everyone who was anyone wanted to be at 660 Fifth Ave. on March 26, 1883. Caroline Astor, the grand dame, was not on the guest list.
Of course not, as Mrs. Astor refused “to know” the Vanderbilts. Alva readily admitted that Mrs. Astor was not invited, but what could she do? So it was that Mrs. Astor summoned her carriage, rode to 660 Fifth Ave., and “dropped her card on” (formally introduced herself to) Alva Vanderbilt.
The ball Mrs. Astor attended was spectacular. If 660 Fifth set a new standard in domestic architecture, the ball set a new standard in entertainment. When it was over, Alva was a member of the Four Hundred.
Alva turned her attention to Newport society. And, of course, she built a house. In 1892 Alva completed her second house with Hunt. It was a triumph. From the brilliant white marble exterior to the gilt interior, architectural historian John Foreman wrote, “Marble House was a glittering, shimmering jewel box.” Alva moved swiftly to the pinnacle of Newport society.
In 1894, her social position secure, she filed for divorce.
On their honeymoon, Alva and Willie boarded his private railway car for their honeymoon trip to Saratoga Springs. He registered at the hotel as follows: “William Kissam Vanderbilt, wife, two maids, two dogs, and fifteen horses.” Had he married any of the socialites of the day, the position to which he relegated his wife would have been overlooked, indeed accepted. Willie K., however, had married a woman who did not believe that wives were chattel. The seeds of divorce were planted on the first day of their marriage.
Alva’s divorce from Willie K. on the grounds of adultery was as militant a campaign on behalf of all women as her later fight for passage of the 19th Amendment.
“Women were not supposed to divorce in those days, whatever the provocation,” Alva wrote. “The threat of social ostracism had proved an effective deterrent. I was the first woman of any prominence to sue for divorce for adultery.”
Alva saw her decision in broad social terms. “Men, if they were rich enough, felt they could do anything they liked without consequence,” Alva wrote. “The women bore it to maintain their social positions, but that was not enough for me.” She believed she was acting on behalf of all wives “living half lives,” deserted, accepting flagrant infidelities out of fear.
She moved with ease to other fights on behalf of women: workplace safety and equity and the vote.
Elm Court, Stockbridge
Elm Court was built in 1886 with additions until 1900. With 92 rooms, it remains the largest shingle-style house ever built.
It can be argued that Emily was the first of the Gilded Age cottagers, that it was the “little red head” who enticed the others to the Berkshires. And yet the mistress of the house considered it just a comfortable family home.
Emily Thorn Vanderbilt Sloane White loved family. Also on her list of favorites were social gatherings, opera, and bridge. She was tiny, energetic, authoritarian, and possessed the assets in her temperament and pocketbook to be a great society hostess.
From June to September, Elm Court was filled with friends and family. All of her siblings, as well as her children and grandchildren, were entertained at Elm Court. It was a place to be and be seen. It was also the place to meet your future mate and many did. Her guests were made comfortable, were well fed, and entertained. In return it was best if they understood the rules.
Certainly you were expected to know the rules of behavior in polite society. In addition, there were the rules of the house. In the hallway a schedule was posted of events for the coming day. A guest was expected to sign up for what interested them and also know and comply when Emily signed them up for what she wished them to do.
They were meant to be active and engaged — not lying about. They could sign up for a horse or rig of their choosing and equally be content and competent on the mounts given to them. Meals were served at specific hours – show up on time or go hungry. Do not dawdle over your food. Emily was a fast, light eater. When Emily finished a course, she indicated the plates be cleared without reference to whether her guests were finished.
True, there were strict rules. True, Benny Goodman was once chastised for taking a peach from a greenhouse but, within the rules, Elm Court was gracious and gay.
We look at these houses today and imagine the lady of the house living in luxury – she did, but also she was running the equivalent of a five-star hotel with grace and ease.
