“Here’s to ‘Little Rhody,’” they shouted, as the state was affectionately called.
Chapter 14
While Rhode Island might be the smallest of the fifty states at thirty-seven miles wide and forty-eight miles long, its crown jewels, the fabulous summer homes in Newington, are among the most beautiful and opulent in the entire world.
Most were built during the 1800s when small wooden cottages along Lobster Bay gave way to the architectural extravagance of wealthy families who profited handsomely during America’s industrial age. With their riches, these multi-millionaires turned a lofty promontory called Mariners Point into a summer resort of palatial estates. Modeled after European castles, chateaus and villas, they epitomized the lavish lifestyle enjoyed by entrepreneurs who garnered vast fortunes during the building of America.
It was a time known as the Gilded Age, when architectural wonders dotted the nation’s landscape from sea to shining sea. About 5,000 of these regal residences are now museums, preserved and protected as national historical landmarks, and open to the public for tours and special events.
What was once a campsite in the wilderness of California is now one of the greatest showplaces in the world. Here in the hills overlooking the crystal blue waters of the Pacific, a wealthy miner built his dream house: a magnificent 165-room Mediterranean Revival-style castle with towers resembling a Spanish cathedral. The once-desolate ranchland now flourishes with 127 acres of gardens, terraces, pools and walkways throughout its carefully manicured 250,000 acres.
However, it is not America’s largest private residence. That honor goes to a grandiose home built deep in the Blue Ridge Mountains in North Carolina on land adjoining the Pisgah National Forest. This owner felt it was the perfect setting for his dream house: a spectacular 250-room French Renaissance Château like those found in France’s Loire Valley.
In addition to these lavish European-style mansions, other architectural feats became home to the well-to-do during that flamboyant Gilded Age. Not to be outdone was the unique octagon style introduced by an enterprising pioneer in the Midwest. By the end of the 19th century more than 3,000 of these distinctive eight-sided residences appeared throughout the United States and Canada.
Along the eastern seaboard, colonial homes reflected the cultures of New England and Virginia. In New England manor homes of the elite Brahmin families contrasted sharply with small Cape Cod cottages and the slanted-roof salt box of the mother country. In the South, colonial architecture developed from crude shelters and wooden farmhouses in the 17th century to sophisticated Georgian mansions in the mid-1700s. By then these beautiful stylish homes were being built by affluent newcomers from Maine to the Carolinas.
During the 19th century, Newington, Rhode Island, became the summer playground for a number of America’s wealthy families. Just as George Carleton Endicott sought cool comfort in the White Mountains, New York financiers, joined by miners in the West and cotton kings in the South, fled to the shores of New England for relief during the long, hot days of summer. There they found Mariners Point, a soaring headland cooled by ocean breezes, to be the ideal spot to escape the heat of the cities.
The first and largest of the estates to be built on the cliffs above Lobster Bay was an 18th century French chateau with 72 rooms. In the front of the residence was a formal French garden laid out in a geometric pattern of paths, bushes, flowerbeds, trees and a marble Apollo fountain. Named Roselawn by its wealthy owner, it set a precedent for the homes to follow along the 200-acre peninsula.
Compton Oaks, its next door neighbor, was an Italian Renaissance-style palazzo patterned after the 16th century palaces in Genoa and Turin. It, too, has an elaborate formal garden fronting the house, which was the scene of many elegant garden parties for the rich and famous during that Golden Age.
Stone Haven, beyond the Compton Oaks garden, presented a different home style. Like the Endicotts’ ancestral Stone Brook, it was constructed entirely of stone. But unlike the mountain hideaway, the seaside retreat was an elaborate Baroque masterpiece styled after a palace in Versailles. While the exterior of both homes was stone and the ground floors paved in stone flags, there the resemblance ended. Stone Haven’s upper floors are parquet, the roof is slate and the windows double glazed.
While most of the summer properties on Mariners Point had two or three acres, Merry Acres was a sprawling Italian villa having twice the acreage of its neighbors. The manor house replicated a rustic 17th century Tuscany farmhouse with two ancient stone fireplaces and park-like gardens. The elevator connecting the two levels is a tell-tale sign that the original design was altered for the convenience of the modern-day owner.
And here among the ostentatious castles and villas is the remarkable octagonal mansion. Appropriately named the Octagon House, it has five floors, measured fifty-by-fifty feet in any direction and sits on a 24-inch foundation. There are 62 rooms, counting halls and closets, but not counting the large windowed cupola which offers breathtaking views of the Atlantic Ocean.
Two other showplaces are Ravenswood and Fernwood. Ravenswood is a fanciful ornamental English cottage in the Gothic Revival style with towers, arches and porch roofs inspired by medieval tournament tents. Fernwood, on the other hand, is patterned after a chateau built in France during the reign of Napoleon III. Among its features is a central cantilever staircase in wood and stone with iron balustrade.
Unlike other homeowners on Mariners Point, when General Richard Palmer returned home from World War I, he decided to build a house that reflected American patriotism and simplicity. He chose a four-bedroom Colonial Revival style, which at the time was the most popular historic revival house design in the country. Based loosely on Federal and Georgian architecture, it was the opposite of highly decorative Victorian styling. Its simple classical details included a gabled roof with dormers, round wooden columns, and red brick siding. The Palmer-McKenzie House, built in 1919, remains one of the best surviving examples of the Colonial Revival-style architecture in America.
In addition to these celebrated showplaces, all of which face Lobster Bay and the ocean beyond, equally famous is the cliff walk along the edge of the park-like properties, which allows the public to enjoy a beautiful walk by the sea. Like the elaborate homes, the walk also is considered a protected landmark. Measuring almost four miles atop the face of the cliff, it is one of the nation’s sixty-five national recreation trails.
All the homes on Mariners Point eventually became historic landmarks, preserved and protected by a local preservation group working with other organizations throughout the country to save America’s architectural treasures. Like other historic homes, all of these museums were opened to the public for tours, which everyone agreed was a good thing. Many American families do not have the opportunity to travel abroad to tour English castles, French chateaux and Italian villas, or to view masterpieces in European art galleries, are allowed to do that without the expense and inconveniences of foreign travel, thanks to those who work to preserve the rich history of America.
Chapter 15
Following the decision that the mystery trip would be a tour of Newington’s beautiful summer estates the following spring, the conversation turned to Meg’s morning appointment that closed the sale of an oceanfront home in Beverly Farms.
“The buyers are a delightful couple from Alaska,” said the fashionable real estate broker with a warm smile. “Would you believe they paid cash, $1.6 million, which is really not unusual for people who can afford a home on the ocean.”
“What are they like?” asked Anne, her interest piqued when she heard the buyers paid cash.
“Very nice, in their early sixties, I’d guess. I liked them. He’s a developer and made his money building apartment buildings and townhouses in Anchorage and Juneau. His company also built a school somewhere in Alaska. They’ll keep a townhouse in Anchorage because they have family and friends there, but Beverly Farms will be their year-round home.”
“What’s the house
like?” Rosemary wanted to know.
“It’s a beautiful sprawling two-story colonial on one and a half acres with five bedrooms and four full baths, about 4,500 square feet, with a great view across the water to Salem Willows and Marblehead Neck.”
“Congratulations,” Rosemary beamed. “Another feather in your cap, or should I say in your red hat. No wonder you can afford that luxury SUV parked outside.”
Meg smiled. Acknowledging Rosemary’s last comment, she explained her reason for buying it.
“It’s especially good for business. With my BlackBerry, I have all my files at my fingertips, and the GPS takes me wherever I need to go to show properties to clients. I have reciprocity agreements with the licensing boards in Massachusetts, Rhode Island and New Hampshire. All I have to do is keep current with each state’s continuing education and pay board dues and other fees, but it’s worth it. It’s a buyer’s market and real estate is moving. With all the high-tech equipment on the Navigator, plus my BlackBerry, I’m able to keep up with properties in all three states. Besides all that,” she added, “it provides a comfortable ride when I take clients to show property.”
“Speaking of keeping up with things,” interrupted Claire. “We need to get dressed for dinner and leave here by four-thirty. The train boards in North Woodstock at five o’clock.”
It was the first the ladies heard that they’d be having dinner on a train, and Claire continued to keep it a surprise and let the evening develop as planned.
They would dine on the rails in the popular Café Lafayette Dinner Train. Advertised as “the restaurant with the constantly changing views,” the train traveled along the fields and forests of the Pemigewasset River and through the Jack O’ Lantern Golf Resort. The three beautifully restored dining cars included the tri-level Granite Eagle, the Algonquin Café, and a standard Pullman coach called Indian Waters. When she made reservations, Claire couldn’t decide between the Granite Eagle, which had an observation dome, giving diners both forward and backward views, or the Indian Waters, which was an exquisite Victorian coach decorated with brass, stained glass and aged woods. Since Saturday would be a day of casual sight-seeing and shopping, Claire opted for the elegant Victorian coach and suggested the women dress accordingly for a glamorous night on the town, which they did.
Claire wore a soft blue beaded cardigan over a white silk blouse and black velour palazzo pants. Rosemary and Meg wore dressy pantsuits, Rosemary’s a three-piece purple Jacquard, Meg’s, also three-piece, had a black sheer beaded jacket and shell with solid black pants. Anne was the only one wearing a skirt, which was a black A-line design worn with a gold lamé evening jacket. Heads turned when the fashionable foursome walked into the dining car behind the hostess who led them to their table.
The Café Lafayette Dinner Train was everything it was advertised to be. Her friends were delighted that Claire had selected the car with the Victorian theme. Like most women, they loved tea rooms and dined in them often. Since high teas originated in Merry Ole England, the ambiance there, as in most American tea rooms, was English in keeping with the Victorian era. Though a period of many contradictions, the enduring social influence was that of decorum and refinement, which was very evident in this restaurant on the rails deep in the New Hampshire mountains.
Checking the menu, Anne and Rosemary selected chicken cordon bleu; Meg decided she’d try the pork tenderloin medallions. Because she didn’t eat meat, Claire had asked for something vegetarian when she called for reservations. The chef had suggested baked polenta with provolone, roasted peppers and mushrooms, which she agreed to try.
In studying the international wine list, they agreed on Louis Jadot Pouilly-Fuisse, a popular French chardonnay that would go well with all three dinner choices.
“Claire, you’re the perfect hostess,” gushed Meg, helping herself to the artichoke pate appetizer. “If the rest of our weekend is anything like this, I’d say we’re in for a jolly good time.”
“I thought we’d enjoy at least one glamorous night out,” smiled Claire, “because the rest of the weekend will be very casual,” adding “and very active.”
She then outlined their itinerary. “But everything is flexible,” she said. “We’re here to enjoy ourselves so we’ll just do whatever we want. Tomorrow I thought we’d have lunch up on Mt. Washington and dinner at the Jack O’ Lantern, but everything else is wide open for shopping, sight-seeing, and whatever.”
“Sounds good to me,” said Anne.
“Me, too,” agreed Rosemary.
“I’m for whatever you gals want to do.” Meg declared. “I have my New Hampshire real estate license and Woodbridge Notch is Claire’s second home, so we come up fairly often. Since you two don’t get up as much as we do, it’s your call what we do.”
Anne and Rosemary again said they were happy with Claire’s plans and left sight-seeing and shopping sites up to her.
Conversation was pleasant throughout dinner, all four glancing out the window from time to time at the passing scenery. It was a Currier and Ives portrait in the making. The three-coach shiny blue and white train meandered through the countryside, the winding river on one side, a mountain slope on the other, with dense wooded areas of fiery colors all along the way.
As the train rolled past a covered bridge deep in the mountains, Anne was prompted to tell another of her interesting stories.
“A covered bridge always reminds me of a story my mother told me about New England’s “olden days” when young couples enjoyed sleigh rides in the snow,” she began. “She said one Sunday afternoon she, her date, and another couple were out sleigh riding and singing at the top of their voices. They came to a snow-paved covered bridge where a constable arrested them for disturbing the peace on the Sabbath.”
Laughter mingled with Rosemary’s query, “A snow-paved bridge?” she asked.
“In those days, all the bridges were made of wood. Road workers packed snow on the wooden floors to prevent the sleigh rails from damaging them,” replied Anne who, like the others, loved all things New England, past and present.
“By the way, the first covered bridge was built in 1792 in Massachusetts over the Merrimac River. Not that I was there,” laughed the octogenarian. “I just came across that little bit of trivia somewhere in my reading.”
Then returning to the story about her mother, she said, “My mother was born in 1898, and from the stories she told, she was quite a flapper during the Roaring ’20s.”
“Sounds like it,” laughed Meg. “I love our modern creature comforts, but back then, people got by with so much less and had fun, too.”
The conversation then turned to memories of special events in their own lives. Claire and Ed were among the special guests invited to lunch with Queen Elizabeth in the mayor’s private dining room during America’s Bicentennial celebration in Boston.
“We all had to be cleared by Scotland Yard,” she said, adding “I’m glad they didn’t find any skeletons in our families’ closets.”
Meg told about the time she and three college friends were shopping in downtown Washington.
“We were approached by a pretty young female reporter who asked us a question about some current event, which we all answered in our own way. She then took our pictures, which appeared in the newspaper the following day with our comments. Years later that attractive inquiring reporter became our nation’s First Lady.”
The response was immediate. “You mean Jackie Kennedy?” They asked in unison.
“Yes, but it was Jackie Bouvier then. I’ve read a number of biographies about her and they all mention that she worked for a Washington newspaper before she married Jack Kennedy.”
“What was the question?” Anne queried.
“At the time the newspapers were covering a high-profile story about a man who persuaded his girlfriend to commit a murder. Her question was something like, ‘Would you commit a crime for your boyfriend?’”
“And what was your answer?”
“I was in
my early twenties at the time and I confess I was a little smarty-pants. I said boastfully, ‘There’s not a man alive who could lead me to crime.’ When it appeared in the newspaper the next day, I received a telephone call from a guard at the White House, not the Secret Service, but a guard. He said he didn’t want to lead me to crime, but he would like to take me to dinner.”
Amid the laughter that followed, Rosemary asked, “And did you go?”
“No. As I said, I was full of myself at that age and wasn’t interested, but maybe I should have gone. It might have been fun.” Then adding with a smile, “But Tom has always been the only one for me, even then.”
Chapter 16
The conversation throughout the evening had been light and pleasant, but it suddenly took an unexpected turn as Meg said in a quiet, reflective voice. “I have great respect for our law enforcement officials, no matter what organization they serve with.”
“Oh?” asked Claire. “Do you have relatives in law enforcement?”
“No, but we, my family that is, had help from both the local and state police at a time when we really needed them. Also, the FBI. Unfortunately, it didn’t turn out the way we hoped, but that was not their fault. It was a long time ago, but I’ll always remember how helpful and kind they were.”
It was a subject Meg had never discussed with any of them before, and the women looked at her in amazement, but no one said a word. Instead, they waited expectantly for her to go on, which she did. Taking a long sip from her wine glass, she began to talk about her childhood in a way she never had before. Perhaps it was the wine and the word “crime” that brought the memories of a long-ago family tragedy to the surface of her mind.
“During my childhood, we lived in a little town on the outskirts of West Hartford,” she began. “We lived out in the country in a house my father and mother built themselves. At that time you could select a house design from a brochure and the lumber company shipped you all the material needed to build it, which is what my parents did.
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