Mansion on the Bluff

The house stood empty at the end of the road.  It was tall, broad, white, ostentatious and expensive.  Behind it lie twelve acres of open land containing a large swimming pool and two guest houses.  The whole estate sat proudly on top of a large bluff overlooking the Atlantic Ocean.  It was built with “old money” back in the days when there were the “haves” and the “have nots”.  New York was home to lots of old money.  Families like the Morgans and Rockefellers established large families on even larger estates out away from the hustle and bustle of New York City.  Long Island gave many people a peaceful respite from the filthy crowded streets of Manhattan.

It was no secret that the house hosted many parties during the Great Depression.  Dignitaries from all over would drive to the eastern end of Long Island just to hob-nob with other rich friends.  It was a time when even the ultra-rich only held millions of dollars.  The concept of a billionaire was almost completely unheard of when the parties were going on atop the majestic bluff.  That was a title reserved for those whose names often followed titles such as “his royal highness”.

The house was said to have inspired one of the Great Depression’s greatest novels.  The author reportedly attended several parties at the mansion on the bluff.  The dinners there were unmatched by any estate east of the Mississippi River.  People from as far away as Washington, D.C. would come to the parties at the big house at the end of the road.  The cars – Dusenbergs, Rolls Royces, Cadillacs among the finer rides – would begin arriving at the front gate around four in the afternoon despite the invitations specifically stating that the gates would open promptly at five and not one minute before.  The cars would line the road with the owners sitting quietly in the shade of the majestic oak trees patiently waiting for the chance to be first through the gate and in the receiving line.  It was often said that the host would spend more time with those whose names were among the first six announced.  The host never wanted to spoil the illusion of favoritism toward the first arrivals though he could tell time down to the second without a watch and spent exactly the same amount of time with everyone.

Dinner’s first course would arrive before the guests at exactly six o’clock.  Anyone not seated by then was forced to wait until the next course before being seated.  There were rarely ever tardies – and those often occurred if it happened to be raining.  But the host was gracious enough to allow for inclement weather and would hold serving by fifteen minutes on days when tardies were possible.

Often the first course was a meal in and of itself.  No fewer than fifteen pheasants-under-glass were served for the dinner guests, who often numbered well over one hundred.  The dinners lasted three hours and included between five and seven courses.  Guests were always invited to take as much food as they wanted but were admonished to eat all they took.

Dinner would end promptly at nine.  Dishes were collected quickly – even from those who had not finished eating.  The host would stand and invite everyone into the ballroom where a live orchestra was waiting to play dance music deep into the night.  Periodically well-known bands were featured during the after-dinner gala.  Attendees were treated to the sounds of the Glenn Miller Orchestra or Woody Herman.  Les Brown and His Band of Renown was a party favorite.  Only once did Guy Lombardo perform for the guests – the New Year’s Eve before his annual favorite Auld Lang Syne became the international hit it is today.  It was said that he debuted his version of the old Scottish tune in the ballroom of the mansion on the bluff.

In his later years, the host became a less frequent guest at his own parties.  He reveled in the sounds of the people happily chatting away at dinner and then the music and laughter afterward but his illness kept him confined to his bedroom.  The design of the mansion allowed him to stand outside on a private balcony and watch the party without having to actually make the long walk from his bedroom to the ballroom.  A veranda outside the ballroom made summer parties much more pleasant.  The doors from the ballroom would open completely and the sounds of the featured orchestra would float out across the bluff and out onto the Atlantic.

From the early 1920’s and through the Great Depression, the people would come and dine and dance.  One cool late-fall evening, dancers partied into the night laughing and holding on to each other, not completely sure why they did not want to let go.  The music had always stopped at midnight, but for some reason, no one wanted to leave.  Even the host sent word from his room that the band was allowed to continue and that the revelers did not have to leave.  There was an air around the mansion on the bluff that meant something big was going to happen soon.  Those who were there that night would recall years later that they wanted that night to last forever.  Many young women, who attended that evening left weeping, filled with apprehension and fear.  They could not explain it.  Young men left with their stomachs feeling tied in knots, unsure of why going home was undesirable.

When the last car passed the front gate and the orchestra had gone, the host was lying alone in his bed.  Only his servants remained finishing the cleanup of the party.  Finally at about four in the morning, the host announced that he was retiring for the evening and that he was not to be disturbed before noon.  His order did not go unheeded, even as the radio downstairs broadcast the news of the Japanese attack on Pearl Harbor.  When the clock chimed the lunch hour, the butler ascended the stairs to wake the host.

Ten minutes later, the butler returned to the servant’s quarters.  It was clear he had been sobbing.  He broke the news to all the servants that the host had passed away in his sleep.  All were thankful that he had not heard the news of the attack signaling America’s entry into the war raging in Europe.  The sudden demise of his weekly dinner parties would have broken his heart.  The butler then picked up the telephone and called for the host’s attorney to come to the house.  Then a phone call to a doctor for the official ruling followed.  Within the hour, word spread all across Long Island that the old man whose majestic mansion stood at the end of the road had passed away.  The mourning was short as young men were shuttled off to Europe and young women filed in to fill the empty spaces in the factories.  War had come to America and now it was time for America to go to work.  The time for frivolity was over.

The war ended four years later and as men returned from Europe, they came home to a changed America.  The feeling was different somehow.  Boys who had boarded troop ships bound for Europe returned as men.  Some had seen action in both theatres.  They would gather and remember those who did not return but even those who had gathered at the mansion on the bluff no longer desired the carefree life they knew before the war.  Some would venture out on Long Island and stop outside the now rusting wrought-iron gates of the mansion.  They would look longingly toward the colonnade that used to greet them then sigh and return to their cars, driving away fondly remembering their younger days.

The house itself stood empty.  When the old man passed away, his will stipulated that everything, including the house itself, was to be sold at auction and the money divided evenly among the servants who had faithfully worked for him as he had no other family.  The servants moved on as millionaires themselves and even after the war they had no problems managing their lives.

A younger family bought the house yet never occupied it.  No reason for their decision was given but sometime in late 1957 the house was for sale again.  By then the house had been unoccupied for sixteen years and was beginning to show its status.  Much of the white paint that had been on the wooden surfaces had cracked and peeled off leaving bare wood exposed to the elements.  After another year on the market, the house was sold again in 1959.  Restoration work began on the property in 1960.  By the following summer the house was once again a gleaming white with black accents.  The grounds were cleared of trash and fresh grass was beginning to grow.  The rusted wrought iron gates were removed and replaced with identical new gates painted a very glossy black.  It looked as if someone were finally going to begin calling the mansion home.

Three months after the restoration was complete, a “for sale” sign once again appeared in front of the stately abode.  In 1962 a family purchased the house and moved in.  They only stayed a short time.  On the morning of November 22, 1963 another for sale sign appeared and by the next day no one was living in the property.  The house stood empty much longer this time.  Two years later, the original for sale sign was replaced with a foreclosure sign and the house again fell into disrepair.

As time passed, the house stood quietly as Neil Armstrong and Buzz Aldrin walked on the moon, an American president was forced to resign, 52 Americans were taken hostage in a foreign country, a space shuttle exploded and the world went back to war with a tyrant in the Middle East.  The economy boomed and the economy went bust but no one dared approach the 32-room sentinel on the bluff.  As the 20^th century came to a close, the house slowly faded to a dingy gray as dirt pummeled the façade and vines began to grow up the sides of the outside walls.

The new century dawned over the bluff and still no one wanted to call the mansion home.  The tragic attack on America that marred the first year of the new century had no effect on the house’s status.  Sometime in 2002, a group of people began to look at the house in a different way.  The group began to study how the house could be converted into a museum.  They wanted to somehow maintain the heritage of America that should be preserved.  As 2002 gave way to 2003 fund-raisers were held to find ways to purchase, restore and open the house to the public to remember America’s past.

At the same time that the preservation group was making its plans, a private developer was working on a plan of his own.  The property was large enough to accommodate 15 single-family homes with at least five acres of land for each house.  The race began to see who would come out the winner.  The preservation group began aggressively promoting the idea of restoring the house and keeping the property as close to how it was during its hey-day during the Great Depression.  The developer was busy looking for investors in the subdivision planned for the seventy-five acres.  Lawyers from both sides filed motion after motion to prevent the other from gaining the upper hand in the process.  The battle raged on for several more years.

The preservation group arrived at the bank that owned the property with money for the purchase and to pay back taxes.  But before the final paperwork was completed, the opposing lawyer walked in with a filing that would trump the whole process.  Three weeks later, the case went to court and in spite of the preservation organization’s fair and square purchase of the property, the sitting judge ruled in favor of the developer.  The preservation group filed an appeal to a higher court.  Again they were denied.  Every step along the way, the preservation group lost their appeals – even to the state supreme court.  The cause was lost.

The next morning, as bulldozers and dump trucks rumbled up the road toward the mansion, the rising sun revealed several thousand people standing in front of the gate.  The convoy of heavy equipment stopped.  People from all over the area had gathered to protest the underhanded method used by the developer to steal the land.  Police were called in and the protesters were forcibly removed from the grounds.  When enough people had been removed, the bulldozer lumbered up the driveway crashing through the gate and did not stop until it was fully buried in the center of the crumbling house.  Additional pieces of heavy equipment made their way into the estate and began destroying the 100-year-old house.  In a matter of a few minutes, a house that had taken a year and a half to build, had hosted numerous parties and sat quietly as the world changed around it was reduced to rubble.  By the end of the week the debris was completely removed and a year later, no trace of the old house remained as twelve brand new smaller mansions stood empty, waiting for buyers.