A 60,000 Square-Foot Summer ‘Cottage’

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“Any fool can make a fortune; it takes a man of brains to hold onto it.”

• “Commodore” Cornelius Vanderbilt

 

NEWPORT, RHODE ISLAND — CNN’s Anderson Cooper’s great-grandfather lived large, mostly because Cornelius Vanderbilt the First built an empire centered on steamships and steam engines. He was personally worth $100 million at the time of his death in 1877, back when that amount provided a lot of power. His son, Billy, managed to double the family fortune. Cornelius Vanderbilt II (nicknamed “Deuce” by me) and his brother William proceeded to start spending the late patriarch’s fortune on mansions, philanthropy — and more mansions. Now the Vanderbilts aren’t exactly broke but are no longer members of the elite wealthy — the quarter-percenters.

That brings us to The Breakers, a 70-room estate by the sea in Newport. It is now owned, along with a dozen or so other mansions, by the Preservation Society of Newport County. The Breakers contains more than 60,000 square feet of living area on five stories and cost $7 million to build — $150 million in modern dollars. This was the summer “cottage” for Deuce and his family. It is numbingly opulent and unquestioningly beautiful in a 19-century tycoon’s over-the-top style. Interior walls are made of marble, alabaster and intricately carved woodwork.

I was interested in the flush toilets, which were not common in the late 1890s. Seeing them and reading about the elaborate plumbing required reminded me of a line from Henry B. Fox’s description of getting indoor plumbing installed in the late 1940s in the house he bought in Circleville, a few miles north of Taylor. He hired this elderly fellow to do the hard work of digging trenches and laying septic and water lines. The old geezer could not understand why people would pay good money to use the facilities inside, instead of doing their business in the outhouse. This is a considerably cleaned up version of that story, even more sanitized than Fox’s account.

Anyway, back to The Breakers. Deuce had a library/study that I would have been content to own, even if it were the only room in the house — though the aforementioned bathroom would come in handy, especially in January. Others can have the murals on the ceilings, the elaborate chandeliers, heavy drapes, etc. Give me glass-enclosed cases filled with books, a massive fireplace, a dozen or so chairs, a decent napping sofa and a few busts of dead Romans, and I’m content. Add a shaggy, loyal dog and we’re in business.

I am not sure Deuce actually read any of these books, which have similar spines and resemble a high-dollar set of encyclopedias. Remember them? I wonder if there are any encyclopedia sales folks still out there. A fellow came to our house in about 1970 and talked my parents into buying a set of Collier’s Encyclopedias on credit, which they kept long after the volumes had much relevance — unless you were looking up topics such as the Civil War or Abe Lincoln. Deuce seems to have had a similar set, but no doubt an earlier version.

The Breakers has a lovely expanse of grass in the backyard that leads to the Cliff Walk, a fine trail along the sea, which we hiked after a hefty lunch on the bay. We attempted to burn off the calories gained at the Lobster Bar, where folks glided in on fancy boats, tied up and docked. We had arrived in a rented Toyota Yaris that would not have been out of place in a Shriner’s parade. It was bright blue and easy to find in a parking lot, especially with its muted-orange New York Plates.

One mansion was enough for us, enough of the gilded lily to last a good while. Besides, the admission fee was $24 to The Breakers; that donation was my limit of donating to the upkeep of fancy houses. And it goes to a good cause, the preservation of this impressive monument to excess. At least the parking was free.

We piled in the Yaris and headed back to Boston.

 

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