Myron Charles Taylor Early Years and Education Myron Charles Taylor was born on January 18, 1874, in Lyons, New York, into a family of modest means and steady principle. His parents valued education and self-reliance, and these virtues defined him throughout his life. He attended public schools in Lyons before enrolling at Cornell University, where he studied law and earned his LL.B. degree in 1894. Taylor displayed from the beginning a meticulous mind and an unshakable sense of order that would characterize both his professional and personal affairs. In 1895 he was admitted to the New York Bar and joined the law firm of De Forest and De Forest in Manhattan. His early work centered on corporate and financial law, areas that perfectly suited his analytical temperament. He rose quickly, becoming known for his ability to reorganize and stabilize troubled companies through careful legal and structural reform. His success in practice brought him into close contact with the textile industry at a time when American manufacturing was undergoing rapid transformation. Marriage, Enterprise, and the Building of Killingworth Anabel Stuart Mack On February 21, 1906, Taylor married Anabel Stuart Mack. The couple had no children. By the early years of the twentieth century, Taylor’s legal acumen had drawn him beyond the practice of law into direct business management. He began acquiring and consolidating textile companies, rescuing several from insolvency and turning them into profitable enterprises. His reputation as a practical reformer grew, and his financial success allowed him to contemplate a life of broader scope. Around 1922, at the age of forty-eight, Taylor purchased property in Lattingtown near Locust Valley, Long Island, on land long connected with his mother’s family, the Underhills. Rather than demolish the old farmhouse that stood there, he decided to preserve and enlarge it. He commissioned architect Harrie T. Lindeberg to transform the simple structure into a gracious country house of brick and stone. Photos Courtesy of oldlongisland The new residence, which Taylor named Killingworth, reflected his taste for refinement without ostentation. Landscape architects Vitale and Geiffert, working with Annette Hoyt Flanders, designed formal gardens, terraces, and a reflective lake that gave the estate its serene character. Killingworth became the Taylors’ principal retreat from New York. The house contained ten master bedrooms, a long solarium, and rooms arranged for comfort and hospitality rather than display. Here they entertained quietly, hosted family, and welcomed guests from business and diplomatic circles. The estate symbolized continuity between Taylor’s modern success and his ancestral heritage. In those same years, Taylor’s sense of family responsibility found expression in his establishment of a trust for the maintenance of the Underhill Burying Ground, one of the oldest cemeteries on Long Island and the resting place of his maternal ancestors. The trust ensured that the site would be preserved in perpetuity, reflecting his lifelong respect for history and the enduring obligations of lineage. Industrial Leadership and Diplomatic Service By the mid-1920s, Taylor had largely withdrawn from the textile trade and devoted himself to larger corporate and financial endeavors. In 1927 he joined the United States Steel Corporation as chairman of its finance committee. His ability to manage large enterprises soon made him indispensable. When the Great Depression struck, U.S. Steel faced immense challenges, and in 1932 Taylor was appointed chairman of the board and chief executive officer. He led the company through the darkest years of economic crisis with calm authority and prudence. Avoiding extremes of either reaction or optimism, he restored the confidence of stockholders and workers alike. Under his direction the corporation maintained stability and avoided the turmoil that engulfed much of American industry. Taylor remained at the head of U.S. Steel until 1938, when he retired from active management, having guided the company safely through one of the most turbulent periods in its history. Myron Taylor with Pope Pius XII (Photo Courtesy of Historyisnowmagazine ) His reputation for balance, judgment, and discretion soon drew him into public service. In 1939 President Franklin D. Roosevelt appointed Taylor as his personal representative to Pope Pius XII at the Vatican. The position carried no official diplomatic title, but it demanded the highest degree of tact and integrity. During the Second World War, Taylor became an essential channel of communication between Washington and the Holy See. He handled humanitarian efforts, aided the coordination of relief work, and served as an intermediary on questions of conscience and diplomacy. Taylor remained in Rome through 1950, after which President Harry S. Truman called upon him for additional special missions. He served with characteristic humility, completing his assignments quietly and returning to private life when his duties were done. His years in diplomacy deepened his spiritual convictions and confirmed his belief in service as the highest form of responsibility. Later Life and Death After his retirement from public life, Taylor divided his time between Killingworth and his residence at 16 East 70th Street in Manhattan, a five-story Spanish-style townhouse facing the Frick Collection. There he maintained his library, art, and correspondence, managing his remaining interests and charitable work with precision. Anabel Taylor died in December 1958, after more than fifty years of marriage. Myron followed her on May 6, 1959, at the age of eighty-five. His funeral was private, and he was buried beside his wife in Locust Valley Cemetery, not far from the grounds of Killingworth and the Underhill Burying Ground he had endowed. Legacy Following his death, Taylor’s affairs were administered with the same order that had governed his life. The Myron and Anabel Taylor Foundation was established to complete his philanthropic program, providing gifts to Cornell University, the Episcopal Church, and major cultural institutions including the Metropolitan Museum of Art and the Metropolitan Opera. The foundation fulfilled its purpose within a few years and was formally dissolved in 1966. Taylor’s city residence was sold soon after his death. By 1963 the house at 16 East 70th Street had been demolished and replaced by a cooperative apartment building, marking the end of the old era of private townhouses along that part of Manhattan’s East Side. Killingworth, however, survived. After Taylor’s death, the estate passed to the Episcopal Diocese of Long Island, which used it for a time as a retreat and meeting center. Maintenance proved difficult, and over the years the property was gradually divided. Portions of the land were sold, but the house itself still stands. Its brick walls remain upright, its chimneys and terraces still discernible, though time has not been kind. The structure endures in a state of severe disrepair, the gardens overtaken by growth, the interiors long unoccupied. Yet the house’s essential form survives, a physical reminder of an earlier age and of the man who built it. Killingworth Today The Underhill Burying Ground Trust continues to maintain the ancestral cemetery that Taylor endowed, and Cornell University still bears his name in the law school building he gave it in 1932. Through these institutions, as well as through his quiet example of integrity, Myron Charles Taylor’s influence endures. He lived without extravagance and led without noise, preferring usefulness to notoriety. His career spanned law, industry, and diplomacy, yet the values that governed each were the same: duty, order, and faith. Killingworth, standing still against the passage of time, remains a fitting symbol of its builder — enduring, dignified, and steadfast.

Evelyn Nesbit 1902 photograph by Gertrude Käsebier At the turn of the twentieth century, New York City glittered like a jeweled crown. The Gilded Age was in full bloom, its skyline climbing ever higher, its mansions spilling over with art, opulence, and restless ambition. It was an age of invention and indulgence, where beauty was both worshiped and consumed. And in this glittering world, three names would become forever entwined in one of America’s most tragic and sensational scandals — Evelyn Nesbit , Stanford White , and Harry K. Thaw . A Girl from Tarentum Evelyn Nesbit was born Florence Evelyn Nesbit on Christmas Day, 1884, in the small Pennsylvania town of Tarentum. Her father, Winfield Scott Nesbit, was a respected lawyer with a love of books and an eye for beauty; her mother, Evelyn Florence McKenzie Nesbit, doted on her two children and moved comfortably in the modest prosperity their life afforded. But when Evelyn’s father died suddenly in 1893, leaving behind debts and no savings, the family’s fortune collapsed overnight. Her mother struggled to support them, moving from boarding house to boarding house, often taking sewing work or running small shops. Evelyn, barely a teenager, soon realized she could help. She had large, luminous eyes, copper-colored hair, and a rare combination of innocence and allure. By the time she was sixteen, she was posing for local artists to earn money — a modest act that would draw her inexorably toward the center of New York’s elite social world. Evelyn Nesbit Photograph by Rudolf Eickemeyer Jr. , 1901 When the family moved to New York City in 1901, Evelyn’s beauty quickly attracted attention. She became one of the most sought-after artist’s models of her day, posing for photographers, painters, and illustrators. The great Charles Dana Gibson is said to have used her as inspiration for his iconic “Gibson Girl,” the embodiment of American femininity. She appeared in shop windows and magazines, a living symbol of grace and modern charm — but her fame, still innocent and unprotected, brought with it dangers she could not yet comprehend. The Architect and the Girl That same year, in another circle of New York society, Stanford White  was at the peak of his career. Born in 1853, he had risen from a young draftsman in the office of Henry Hobson Richardson to a celebrated partner in McKim, Mead & White , the most powerful architectural firm in America. His designs — the Washington Square Arch, the Villard Houses, the second Madison Square Garden — defined the grandeur of the age. White was charming, sophisticated, and dangerous. A lover of art, theater, and young beauty, he moved easily among New York’s elite. Yet behind his refined manner lay a private indulgence: he maintained secret apartments where he entertained chorus girls and models. One such apartment — hidden within Madison Square Garden, the very building he designed — was famously decorated with red velvet draperies, mirrors, and a swing suspended from the ceiling. It was into this world that Evelyn Nesbit stepped at sixteen. Introduced to White by friends in the theater, she found him to be a generous patron. He paid her family’s rent, sent her gifts, and played the role of a benevolent protector. Yet behind the kindness lay something darker. One night, after a dinner at his apartment, Evelyn awoke to find herself alone with White her memories blurred, her body aching, her innocence gone. Whether it was seduction or assault has been debated ever since, but to the young model, the effect was the same. She would later describe it as a bewildering loss, one she could never fully articulate. Despite the betrayal, Evelyn remained drawn to him. He had become both benefactor and captor, a figure of sophistication in a city where she was otherwise adrift. For White, she was one of many conquests. For Evelyn, he was the man who had shaped her destiny in ways she could neither control nor escape. The Jealous Heir In 1903, Evelyn met Harry Kendall Thaw , the spoiled heir to a Pittsburgh railroad and coal fortune. Thaw was eccentric, volatile, and painfully insecure — a man accustomed to buying what he could not win. He became obsessed with Evelyn, showering her with attention and demanding to know every detail of her past. When she told him of Stanford White, his jealousy turned to fury. Thaw saw himself as Evelyn’s savior, a man rescuing her from the corruption of the New York elite that had scorned him. He courted her with desperate devotion, pressing for marriage despite his erratic behavior. Evelyn, weary of scandal and isolation, finally agreed. They married in April 1905, when she was twenty and he was thirty-four. Marriage did not calm him. Thaw’s obsession with White deepened into a mania. He believed that killing the architect would avenge Evelyn’s lost innocence and restore his own honor. He spoke of it often, fixating on the idea that the man who had “ruined” his wife must die. Evelyn tried to placate him, but his paranoia only grew. Nesbit in 1901 (approximately at age 16) The Night of June 25, 1906 On a summer night in 1906, New York’s elite gathered for the opening performance of the musical Mam’zelle Champagne  at the rooftop theater of Madison Square Garden. The air was festive, the city’s lights sparkling below. Evelyn sat beside her husband, uneasy but unaware that history was about to unfold in front of them. Madison Square Garden As the show reached its finale, Thaw spotted Stanford White in the audience, seated at a nearby table. Without warning, he rose from his chair, pulled a pistol from his coat, and fired three shots into White’s face. The architect fell instantly, his white evening suit stained with blood. The crowd screamed, the orchestra faltered, and chaos erupted. Thaw, standing over the body, shouted, “You’ll never see that woman again!” before being seized by the crowd. The murder, committed in front of hundreds of witnesses under the open sky of the building White himself had designed, was unlike anything New York had ever seen. The press seized upon the story with ferocious appetite. Headlines blazed with scandal, painting Evelyn as the beautiful young muse at the center of a moral tragedy. Overnight, she became both victim and symbol — the “Girl in the Red Velvet Swing,” the tragic heroine of an age that had worshiped beauty and paid the price. The Trial of the Century Harry Thaw’s trial began in 1907 and was quickly dubbed “the trial of the century.” The courtroom overflowed with spectators eager for gossip and sensation. Reporters filled every seat, sketching Evelyn’s face, her dresses, her tears. The defense claimed that Thaw had acted to defend his wife’s honor, driven temporarily insane by the revelation of White’s predation. Evelyn took the stand and recounted, in painful detail, her encounters with the architect. Her testimony transfixed the public. Some saw her as a fallen woman seeking redemption; others condemned her as the instrument of Thaw’s madness. The first trial ended in a hung jury. The second, in 1908, found Thaw not guilty by reason of insanity. He was committed to the Matteawan State Hospital for the Criminally Insane, where he remained for seven years before being declared sane and released. For Evelyn, the verdict brought no relief. She had been dissected in the press, her private trauma turned into spectacle. The men who had shaped her fate — one dead, the other confined — left her to navigate a world that had devoured her story and moved on. Aftermath of a Scandal In the years that followed, Evelyn tried to rebuild her life. She returned briefly to the stage, performing in vaudeville and later appearing in early silent films. She married her dance partner, Jack Clifford, in 1916, but the marriage quickly failed. Evelyn & Her son Russell She gave birth to a son, Russell William Thaw, whom she raised largely on her own. For decades, she moved from city to city — New York, Northfield, Los Angeles — teaching, sculpting, and occasionally giving interviews about her past. Though she battled alcoholism and financial hardship, she never lost her dignity or her wit. Harry Thaw, meanwhile, continued to live under the shadow of his crime. Though freed, he never escaped the public perception of madness. He died in 1947 in Miami, leaving Evelyn $10,000 in his will. Evelyn outlived them both. She died in 1967 in a nursing home in Santa Monica, at the age of eighty-two — her beauty long faded, her name still echoing in the annals of scandal. Epilogue – The Ghosts of the Gilded Age The story of Evelyn Nesbit, Stanford White, and Harry Thaw endures not merely for its drama, but for what it reveals about an era intoxicated by its own splendor. White’s architecture, grand and enduring, still graces New York, while the story of his death lingers like a shadow across the marble facades he built. Evelyn’s life, by contrast, speaks to the cost of that gilded brilliance. She was both muse and victim, a young woman pulled between desire and power, beauty and ruin. In her, the contradictions of the Gilded Age found human form — a time when America’s wealthiest lived like royalty, and yet beneath the surface lay restlessness, cruelty, and decay. Her tragedy became legend, her face immortalized in art, her name bound forever to the fall of a man and the madness of another. In the end, Evelyn Nesbit was neither villain nor saint, but a survivor of a world that demanded beauty and punished those who possessed it. And when the lights of that age dimmed, hers remained the ghostly gleam of the girl on the red velvet swing, suspended forever between innocence and infamy. Where They Rest Today, the three lives that collided in such violence lie scattered across the American landscape, their graves quiet and dignified — far removed from the scandal that once consumed them. Evelyn Nesbit , the tragic beauty who became the unwilling emblem of an era, lies on the opposite coast at Holy Cross Cemetery  in Culver City, California. Her grave is modest, marked by her name and dates, a quiet resting place for a woman once famous across the world. Stanford White , the architect whose genius defined New York’s Gilded Age, rests in the churchyard of Saint James Episcopal Church  in Saint James, Suffolk County, New York. His monument, carved with classical grace, stands not far from the summer homes of the very society he helped to shape. Harry Kendall Thaw , the man whose jealousy and instability ignited the century’s most notorious crime, is buried in the Allegheny Cemetery  in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, among generations of his wealthy family. Three lives once bound together by desire, power, and violence now lie apart — in New York, Pennsylvania, and California — separated by geography, but forever connected in history. Their story remains one of the most haunting reminders of the price of beauty and the darkness behind the glitter of America’s Gilded Age.

Charles Albert Coffin, co-founder and the first president of the General Electric Company, was one of the most influential industrial leaders of the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries. Born in Fairfield, Maine, on December 31, 1844, he was the son of Albert Coffin and Anstrus Varney Coffin. As a young man he showed an aptitude for business and enterprise. At the age of eighteen he moved to Lynn, Massachusetts, where he joined his uncle Charles E. Coffin's shoe company. For the next two decades he worked in the shoe trade, eventually establishing his own firm, Coffin and Clough, which became a successful manufacturer in Lynn. Although he prospered in footwear, Coffin's second career would prove even more remarkable. In 1883 he was approached by Silas A. Barton, a Lynn businessman, who proposed bringing to the city a struggling electrical firm from New Britain, Connecticut. The company's great asset was the inventive talent of Elihu Thomson, but it needed sound business leadership and capital to survive. Coffin agreed to finance and lead the reorganized company, which was renamed Thomson-Houston. Under his steady management and Thomson's engineering genius, the firm quickly became a formidable rival to Thomas Edison's enterprises. Thomson-Houston not only competed in manufacturing electrical equipment but also established power plants, including installations in Atlanta, Georgia, to run both electric lighting and streetcar lines. Original factory, Thomson-Houston Electric Company, 1883, General Electric Company, 1883/1883, From the collection of: Museum of Innovation & Science In 1892 Coffin negotiated the merger of Thomson-Houston with Edison General Electric, creating the General Electric Company. He became its first president, serving from 1892 until 1912, and then chairman of the board from 1913 until 1922. His leadership was tested almost immediately during the Panic of 1893, when financial markets collapsed and credit dried up. Coffin skillfully negotiated with New York banks, offering utility stocks held by General Electric as collateral, thereby securing the funds that kept the company afloat. His decisive action not only saved GE but positioned it for growth during the recovery. Coffin understood the importance of innovation in a rapidly changing industry. Thomson-Houston factory interior, General Electric Company, 1885/1895, From the collection of: Museum of Innovation & Science In 1901 he established the first industrial research laboratory in the United States at Schenectady, New York. This groundbreaking move institutionalized research and development within a corporation, ensuring a steady stream of technical advances. He supported engineers in the adaptation of the Curtis steam turbine, which revolutionized electric power generation and became one of the company's most important contributions to modern industry. Under his leadership General Electric expanded into a global enterprise and became a symbol of American industrial power. Associates remembered Coffin as a gracious and diplomatic executive, a leader who preferred suggestion and persuasion to command. He welcomed ideas from colleagues, reserved decisions for essential matters, and was known for his personal involvement in major negotiations. He often wrote proposals to customers in his own hand, and he had a gift for easing tense situations with humor and anecdote. Customers and competitors alike regarded him as both the statesman and the salesman of the electrical industry. Coffin retired from active leadership in 1922, leaving the company in strong condition and entrusting its future to Owen D. Young, who would himself become a towering figure in American business. By the time of his retirement Coffin had accumulated a substantial personal fortune through his General Electric holdings, making him one of the wealthiest men in the world. He married Caroline Russell of Holbrook, Massachusetts, and together they had three children. In his later years he divided his time between New York and his estate in Locust Valley, Long Island. It was there, on July 14, 1926, that he died at the age of eighty-one. He was buried at Locust Valley Cemetery, With his wife Caroline, son Edward, & daughter Alice. The Coffin Family plot can be seen here . This is an interactive map of Addition 1, of the Locust Valley Cemetery. In 1917, a group of wealthy men including J.P. Morgan Jr., Robert Lovett, and Charles Coffin bought land next to the Locust Valley Reformed Church. Their hope was to create a special place for a burial, worthy of the wealth they had acquired in life. Portledge The Charles Albert Coffin Estate Portledge, the country estate of Charles Albert Coffin, was built in Locust Valley, Long Island, New York, in the early 1910s. Coffin, co-founder and first president of General Electric, began acquiring land in Matinecock around 1910, assembling about 130 acres for his residence. The estate was named Portledge after the Coffin family’s ancestral home in Devon, England, known as Portledge Manor. Coffin hired architect Howard Greenley to design the main house and supporting buildings. Greenley planned the mansion in the Tudor Revival style, a common choice for Long Island estates of the period. Construction began around 1909 and continued into the early 1910s. The main residence featured asymmetrical massing, stone and half-timbered walls, and tall clustered chimneys typical of Greenley’s work. Beatrix Farrand, a leading landscape architect, was commissioned to design the formal gardens and grounds. Her plans included terraces and organized garden spaces that aligned with the Tudor character of the house. By 1914, the estate’s development was well advanced. That year, American Architect and Building News  published Greenley’s designs for the Gardener’s and Chauffeur’s Cottages at Portledge, confirming the continued expansion and detailing of the property. These structures matched the style of the main house and show that Greenley oversaw both residential and service planning for the estate. The completed property included the main mansion, carriage house, greenhouses, and multiple staff cottages, functioning as a self-contained country estate. Coffin used Portledge as his residence until his death in 1926. In 1965, the estate became the home of Portledge School. The original mansion and carriage house remain in use, preserving much of the early twentieth-century design and layout established under Coffin’s ownership. Photos of Portledge courtesy of Oldlongisland.com .

Madeleine Talmage Force Astor Madeleine Talmage Force was born on June 19, 1893, in Brooklyn, New York, to William Hurlbut Force and Katherine Arvilla Talmage Force. Her father was a successful businessman and her mother a member of a long-established New York family. The Forces were among the city’s prominent social and financial elite, and Madeleine was educated in fine schools, including Miss Ely’s School and Miss Spence’s School for Girls in Manhattan. She was raised in comfort, enjoying summers in Bar Harbor and Newport, and quickly became known for her beauty, poise, and lively personality within New York society. John Jacob Astor IV By her late teens, Madeleine was a fixture in the social pages, attending teas, charity balls, and fashionable gatherings. In the summer of 1910, she was introduced to Colonel John Jacob Astor IV, a distinguished inventor, real estate developer, and one of the wealthiest men in the world. Astor was recently divorced from his first wife, Ava Lowle Willing, with whom he had two children, Vincent and Alice. His growing affection for the much younger Madeleine quickly became the focus of widespread gossip. Despite criticism from both the press and conservative social circles, the couple announced their engagement in August 1911. Their wedding took place quietly on September 9, 1911, at Beechwood, the Astor family estate in Newport, Rhode Island. Madeleine was eighteen, and the Colonel was forty-seven. The ceremony, officiated by Reverend Joseph Lambert, was attended by a small circle of family and close friends. Following their marriage, the couple embarked on an extended honeymoon abroad to escape the public attention that surrounded their union. They toured Europe, Egypt, and the Mediterranean, where they visited Cairo and Luxor before deciding to return home to New York in the spring of 1912. RMS Titanic They booked passage on the maiden voyage of the RMS Titanic, traveling under the name “Mr. and Mrs. J. J. Astor.” Accompanying them were Colonel Astor’s valet, Madeleine’s maid, a nurse named Caroline Endres, and their Airedale terrier, Kitty. Madeleine was several months pregnant at the time. On the night of April 14, 1912, when the Titanic struck an iceberg in the North Atlantic, Colonel Astor remained calm, helping his wife dress warmly and escorting her to the deck. He assisted other passengers before personally ensuring that Madeleine was safely placed in Lifeboat 4. He reportedly asked if he might accompany her, citing her condition, but was told that only women and children could board. Madeleine survived the sinking, while her husband was among the more than 1,500 who perished when the ship went down in the early hours of April 15. After her rescue by the Carpathia, Madeleine returned to New York, where she was met by her mother and family. Despite her youth and the tragedy she had endured, she handled the aftermath with quiet dignity. In June 1912 she hosted a private luncheon aboard the Carpathia to thank Captain Arthur Rostron and his crew for their heroism. Among her guests were several other Titanic widows, including Mrs. John B. Thayer and Mrs. John Bradley Cumings. William Karl Dick On August 14, 1912, Madeleine gave birth to her son, John Jacob “Jakey” Astor VI, at her Fifth Avenue mansion. His birth attracted widespread press attention as he was the posthumous heir of one of America’s greatest fortunes. Under the terms of her marriage settlement, Madeleine was granted the use of an Astor mansion, the Beechwood estate in Newport, and a substantial income. However, these privileges would end if she chose to remarry. In 1916 she married William Karl Dick, a childhood friend and heir to a sugar-refining fortune. Their wedding, held at her mother’s New York residence, was a smaller, more private affair. The couple had two sons, William Force Dick and John Henry Dick. They divided their time between New York, Newport, and Charleston, where they enjoyed the company of other prominent families. Over time, however, the marriage grew strained, and in 1933 Madeleine obtained a divorce in Reno, Nevada. Enzo Fiermonte Later that same year she married Enzo Fiermonte, a twenty-six-year-old Italian prizefighter and actor. Their marriage captured headlines due to their age difference and his career, which stood in sharp contrast to her social background. The union was turbulent and short-lived, ending in divorce in 1938 on the grounds of extreme cruelty. Afterward, Madeleine resumed the surname Dick and began to withdraw from public life. In her final years, she lived quietly in Palm Beach, Florida, maintaining close relationships with her sons and family. Though she never regained the fortune or notoriety of her early years, she remained a figure of fascination to the public. Madeleine Talmage Force Dick died in Palm Beach on March 27, 1940, at the age of forty-six. She was interred in the Force–Dick–Astor Mausoleum at Trinity Cemetery in New York City. She is entombed with her mother, her son John Jacob Astor VI, his wife, and their dog. Madeleine's mausoleum as you walk up. Force/Astor/Dick Mausoleum Madeleine's Inscription Mausoleum photos are courtesy of Neil Funkhouser

When Charles I. Hudson began assembling farmland in Muttontown around 1906, he envisioned more than a country retreat. A financier and steel investor who had built his fortune in the industrial boom years, Hudson wanted a home that projected Old World elegance against the rural landscape of Long Island’s North Shore. He called it Knollwood. Hudson purchased about 260 acres of former farmland and hired the New York architectural firm of Hiss and Weekes to design a residence worthy of the Gold Coast’s emerging grandeur. The result was a palatial Italian Renaissance–style mansion of about sixty rooms, constructed of stone and set on a rise that overlooked formal gardens and wooded acreage. The architects’ plan balanced classical symmetry with the modern conveniences of the early twentieth century. The north façade was marked by a tall Ionic portico, while the south terrace opened toward the gardens in a sweeping double stairway. The house was surrounded by balustraded walks, pergolas, and terraces that descended to parterres and lawns designed by landscape architect Ferruccio Vitale, whose work at Knollwood ranked among the most refined examples of the American Country Place Era. Construction began shortly after 1906 and continued through the early 1910s. By 1911, the house and gardens were largely complete and had been photographed for Architecture  magazine. The estate included a working farm known as Westbrook, with a Jersey cattle herd, orchards, and a large stable and garage complex that housed horses, automobiles, and staff apartments. Knollwood functioned as both a showcase of wealth and a self-sufficient rural enterprise, a reflection of Hudson’s belief that grandeur and practicality could coexist. Hudson enjoyed his estate for only a short time. He died in 1921, leaving Knollwood to his heirs, who soon found its upkeep burdensome. The house changed hands in the following years, beginning a new chapter in its history. By the mid-1920s, Knollwood had been purchased by Dr. Nicholas Frederic Brady Webb, a member of the prominent Webb and Vanderbilt families. During the Webbs’ tenure, the estate remained an active social property, appearing in society pages and event listings throughout the 1920s. It was one of the many grand North Shore houses that continued to host formal gatherings even as the age of private servants and vast estates was starting to fade. By the 1930s, as the Great Depression reduced fortunes and altered lifestyles, Knollwood was again placed on the market. The once-flourishing house entered a quieter phase, passing eventually to new ownership in the 1940s. During this period, the property was acquired by Lansdell K. Christie, a mining executive and real estate investor. Christie held the property largely as an investment and never occupied it as a residence. Without steady care, the buildings began to decline. Vandalism and theft took a growing toll, and the estate’s formal plantings began to revert to woodland. In 1951, Knollwood briefly reclaimed headlines when it was purchased by King Zog I of Albania, living in exile after his country’s communist takeover. He reportedly paid about one hundred thousand dollars for the property, sparking rumors that the payment was made in jewels and that he planned to establish a royal enclave on Long Island. The reality was less romantic. Zog never lived at Knollwood. Complications with immigration and his failing health kept him abroad, and by 1955 his representatives sold the estate once again. Years of neglect and vandalism left the mansion in ruin. The empty shell became a magnet for curiosity seekers and treasure hunters chasing legends of hidden royal wealth. In 1959, the once-great house was demolished for safety reasons, erasing its physical presence but not its legend. The surrounding land was later incorporated into the Muttontown Preserve, where traces of Knollwood remain scattered through the woods. The grand double staircase still rises through ivy and leaf litter, the stone kiosks stand roofless among trees, and the gate piers mark the entrance where Hudson’s dream began. Knollwood’s story mirrors the larger arc of Long Island’s Gold Coast estates—built in a surge of optimism, maintained through extravagance, then undone by changing times and economics. What survives is the sense of scale and imagination that once animated its creation. The terraces still follow Vitale’s geometry, the axial paths remain visible beneath the overgrowth, and the echoes of Hudson’s vision linger in the quiet of the preserve. Once a house of sixty rooms filled with light, Knollwood now lives on in memory and stone, a relic of an era when ambition and artistry met on a hill in Muttontown. Photos of the ruins are courtesy of Old Long Island

William Grove Skelly (Courtesy of the Museum of Oklahoma History) William Grove Skelly was born on June 10, 1878, in Erie, Pennsylvania, the son of William Skelly and Mary Jane Sweatman, immigrants of Irish and English descent. One of six children, he grew up in modest circumstances where discipline and hard work were daily expectations. As a boy he contributed to the family income by selling newspapers on the streets of Erie and shoveling snow in the winter. He attended public schools before completing a business course at Clark's Business School, finishing the program in less than a year. His first experiences in the oil industry came at his father's side, hauling oilfield supplies over rough dirt roads with a horse-drawn wagon. Determined to learn the trade from the ground up, he later worked as a tool dresser in Venango County, Pennsylvania, earning $2.50 a day. Those years in the oil fields gave him firsthand knowledge of drilling, leases, and production, a foundation he carried with him for the rest of his career. In 1898 his ambitions were put on hold when he enlisted in the Sixteenth Pennsylvania Volunteers during the Spanish–American War. He saw combat at the Battle of Coamo in Puerto Rico before returning home to civilian life. After the war Skelly entered the natural gas business in Indiana, becoming manager of the Citizens Gas Company in Gas City. There he was struck by the immense waste of natural gas being vented or burned off. Fascinated by George Westinghouse's pioneering work in transporting gas by pipeline, Skelly studied the system and later applied those lessons as natural gas became vital to his own operations. By the 1910s he was drilling independently, securing leases in Kansas and eventually establishing the Midland Refining Company in the El Dorado Field in 1916. With its success, he incorporated the Skelly Oil Company in 1919, selecting Tulsa, Oklahoma, as his headquarters. His company quickly grew into one of the largest independent petroleum firms in America. By the 1920s it was producing millions of barrels annually, operating pipelines, refineries, and hundreds of service stations across multiple states. Skelly Oil Headquarters Skelly was also known for his dealings in Osage County, where the Burbank Field became one of the most productive in the country. At the famous "Million Dollar Elm" auctions in Pawhuska, he successfully bid for leases and worked closely with the Osage Nation to ensure that royalties from oil sales were paid directly to tribal members. He also introduced conservation practices to preserve gas pressure and extend the productive life of wells. An auction held under the Million Dollar Elm for access to the Osage Nation’s oil. Courtesy the Bartlesville Area History Museum In addition to his oil interests, he became a civic leader and philanthropist. He served as president of the International Petroleum Exposition in Tulsa from 1925 until his death, helping to promote the city as a global energy center. In 1928 he founded the Spartan School of Aeronautics, which trained pilots and mechanics and became a critical resource during World War II. He supported churches, hospitals, schools, and civic institutions throughout Tulsa and was remembered for quiet personal acts of generosity as well as large-scale gifts. In recognition of his contributions, the Oklahoma Legislature passed a resolution in 1955 describing him as "Tulsa's greatest asset." To many, he embodied both the rise of America's independent oilmen and the civic responsibility that accompanied great wealth. Skelly Mansion William Grove Skelly died on April 11, 1957, in Tulsa, Oklahoma, at the age of seventy-eight. He was entombed in the mausoleum at Rose Hill Memorial Park.

Matthew Wayne Shepard was born on December 1, 1976 in Casper, Wyoming, the first son of Dennis and Judy Shepard. His father worked in the oil industry and his mother was a community activist. He was raised in the Episcopal Church and spent his early childhood in Wyoming before the family moved when Dennis accepted a position with Saudi Aramco. The Shepards relocated to Dhahran, Saudi Arabia, where Matthew attended an international school before completing his secondary education at The American School in Switzerland, known as TASIS. He graduated in 1995. Friends and teachers later remembered him as sensitive, gentle, and interested in politics and global affairs. During a senior trip to Morocco he suffered a violent assault in Marrakesh, an experience that affected him deeply and led to struggles with depression and anxiety. After returning to the United States he enrolled first at Catawba College in North Carolina, later attending Casper College in Wyoming. He spent time in Colorado and ultimately enrolled at the University of Wyoming in Laramie. There he studied political science and became active in campus organizations, including the LGBTQ student group. Openly gay at a time when visibility still carried significant personal risk, he spoke of one day working in diplomacy or human rights advocacy. On the night of October 6, 1998 he went to the Fireside Lounge in Laramie. There he encountered two local men, Aaron McKinney and Russell Henderson, who claimed they were acting friendly and offered him a ride. Once in their truck they robbed him and drove him to a remote fence line outside the city. He was beaten severely, tied to the fence, and left exposed through the cold Wyoming night. A cyclist discovered him the following afternoon, at first mistaking him for a scarecrow until seeing movement. He was transported to Poudre Valley Hospital in Fort Collins, Colorado, where he remained in a coma. On October 12, 1998 Matthew Shepard died from his injuries at twenty-one years old. The fence Matthew was left to die on. The crime drew national and international attention. Candlelight vigils were held across the United States and abroad. His parents, Judy and Dennis Shepard, became prominent voices calling for stronger protections against hate-motivated violence. In the aftermath they established the Matthew Shepard Foundation to promote LGBTQ+ equality, inclusion, and safety. The trials of his killers took place in 1999 in Laramie. Russell Henderson pleaded guilty to avoid the death penalty and received two consecutive life sentences. Aaron McKinney went to trial, was convicted of felony murder, and also received two consecutive life sentences without possibility of parole after the Shepard family requested that the death penalty not be pursued. His death inspired numerous cultural works including The Laramie Project, which premiered in 2000 and brought wider attention to the circumstances of the crime and the community’s response. Over the following years Matthew Shepard’s name became synonymous with the fight against hate crimes in the United States. On October 28, 2009 President Barack Obama signed the Matthew Shepard and James Byrd Jr. Hate Crimes Prevention Act into law, expanding federal hate crime statutes to include protections based on sexual orientation and gender identity. For many years after his death his ashes remained with his parents, who were reluctant to choose a final resting place out of concern that it might be vandalized by those who still harbored hatred. In 2018, twenty years after his murder, it was announced that his cremains would be interred at Washington National Cathedral in the District of Columbia. On October 26, 2018 a public service was held there, presided over by Episcopal bishops and attended by mourners from across the country. His ashes were laid to rest in the cathedral’s columbarium, giving him a permanent and protected resting place in a sacred national setting.

In the early 1890s Florence Adele Vanderbilt Twombly and her husband Hamilton McKown Twombly assembled farmland straddling Madison and the newly named Florham Park in Morris County, New Jersey, intending to create a country seat to rival the great houses of the Gilded Age. They retained McKim, Mead and White to design the residence and Frederick Law Olmsted to plan the grounds. Work began in the mid 1890s and the family took up residence before the decade closed, giving the estate a portmanteau name that joined their first names as Florham. The main house rose in red brick with limestone trim in a restrained classical idiom, with long symmetrical elevations, high chimneys, and a broad terrace overlooking formal gardens. Inside, suites of reception rooms opened off a grand hall, finishes included marble, carved oak, and decorative plaster, and service areas were organized to support a large household. Slideshow of exteriors of Florham By the turn of the twentieth century the estate functioned as a self contained domain. Outbuildings housed stables, carriage and later motor facilities, greenhouses, a powerhouse, and staff quarters. The Olmsted office laid out drives and sightlines that approached the house obliquely, then revealed long axial views across lawns framed by tree belts. The formal garden rooms nearest the terrace used stone balustrades, clipped hedging, and parterres, while the wider parkland transitioned to meadows and woodland. The farm side of the property supported prize livestock and orchards, and the social side supported seasonal entertaining, hunts, and large house parties, all managed by a domestic staff that numbered in the dozens. Hamilton Twombly died in 1910, and Florence Vanderbilt Twombly kept Florham as her primary country residence for the next four decades. She maintained the house in full order, continued to commission horticultural work on the gardens, and preserved the architectural character of the interiors. During the 1910s and 1920s the house received incremental modernization, with improved heating and lighting and an expanded garage and service court. The landscape matured into the intended composition as Olmsted’s tree plantings reached scale, and the formal gardens were replanted periodically to meet changing taste while retaining their original structure. Through the Depression years the estate remained in operation, albeit with a leaner staff, and during the Second World War some activities were curtailed while the house continued to serve as a family base. Slideshow of the interiors of Florham Florence Vanderbilt Twombly died in 1952, and the long process of dispersing the estate began soon after. Furnishings were auctioned, large peripheral tracts were subdivided, and several recreational components evolved into independent facilities. The core house with a substantial acreage survived intact. In 1958 Fairleigh Dickinson University acquired the principal buildings and surrounding grounds to establish its Florham campus. The university adapted the mansion for administrative and academic use, conserving major interiors such as the great hall, the former drawing rooms, and the ballroom, which became settings for campus events and public programs. Carriage houses and service buildings were repurposed for classrooms and support functions, and new academic buildings were placed to respect the historic axes and tree lines. Slideshow of the playhouse & Grounds of Florham From the late twentieth century onward preservation and restoration advanced in stages. Friends of Florham, a volunteer organization formed to support stewardship, documented the house and landscape, advocated for sensitive maintenance, and helped guide projects that repaired roofs, restored masonry, conserved ornamental ironwork, and revived garden features. The university reestablished planting schemes in the formal terraces, cleared views that Olmsted intended, and stabilized long runs of historic stonework. Interior work preserved original millwork and mantels while integrating modern building systems. Archival research clarified the sequence of alterations made during the Twombly years and informed choices about materials and finishes during repairs. A rare look at Florham with Joseph Donon & his wife when it was still the Twombly Mansion (Joseph Donon was Mrs. Twombly's private chef) Today the former Twombly mansion stands as the architectural and symbolic heart of Fairleigh Dickinson University’s Florham campus. The building, widely recognized as one of the largest and most complete Gilded Age houses in New Jersey, retains its McKim, Mead and White character in plan and elevation. The grounds still read as an Olmsted landscape, with the approach drives, the framing tree belts, the open lawns, and the terraces that knit house to garden. The estate’s name endures in the campus identity, and the house continues to host academic life, lectures, exhibitions, and community gatherings. Period rooms that once served private entertaining now welcome students and visitors, while the surrounding gardens provide outdoor classrooms and quiet places for study. The continuity of use from private seat to educational institution has underpinned the long survival of both architecture and landscape, and ongoing stewardship keeps the Florham story legible, from its Gilded Age origins through mid century transition and into its present role. Photos courtesy of Fairleigh Dickinson University Archives

Edith Bouvier Beale known as "Big Edie" was born on October 5, 1895, in New York City, the daughter of John Vernou Bouvier Jr., a prominent lawyer and stockbroker, and Maude Sergeant Bouvier. She belonged to a socially elite family and was the aunt of Jacqueline Kennedy Onassis and Lee Bouvier Radziwill. Edith Bouvier wedding photo In 1917 she married Phelan Beale, a lawyer and sportsman associated with her father's law firm. The couple lived first in Manhattan and later maintained a home on West End Avenue, participating in New York society and raising three children, including Edith "Little Edie" Bouvier Beale, as well as sons Phelan Beale Jr. and Bouvier Beale. The marriage, once socially prominent, became strained over time and Phelan Beale obtained a divorce by telegram from Mexico in 1946, leaving Edith with the East Hampton estate. In 1923 the Beales purchased Grey Gardens, a 28-room shingle-style mansion in East Hampton, New York, designed in 1897 by architect Joseph Greenleaf Thorpe. Vintage view of Grey Gardens The house became Edith’s beloved home and social retreat, where she entertained with music and gatherings in the early years. After her divorce she remained at Grey Gardens with her daughter Edith, while her two sons established professional careers elsewhere. Financial support dwindled and the property fell into disrepair as Edith devoted herself to her daughter and an increasingly private life. By the 1950s and 1960s mother and daughter were living largely in isolation with limited means. Their eccentric domestic world, filled with cats and raccoons and crumbling grandeur, eventually drew the attention of local authorities and the press. Edith with her portrait at Grey Gardens In the early 1970s public curiosity about the once grand estate grew after health inspectors intervened, prompting relatives, including Jacqueline Kennedy Onassis and Lee Radziwill, to help fund repairs to make the house habitable. In 1975 the documentary film Grey Gardens by Albert and David Maysles was released, focusing on the daily lives and bond between Edith and her daughter. The film brought them national attention and became a landmark in American documentary storytelling, preserving an intimate portrait of family, independence, and resilience. Edith Bouvier Beale died on February 5, 1977, at the age of 81, in Southampton Hospital and was remembered for her wit, her music, and her singular presence in one of the most famous family stories of the twentieth century.

Anna Nicole Smith Anna Nicole Smith was born Vickie Lynn Hogan in Houston, Texas, on November 28, 1967. She was the daughter of Donald Eugene Hogan and Virgie Mae Tabers. Her early childhood was spent primarily in the small Texas town of Mexia after her parents separated. She was raised by her mother and extended family members and attended Mexia High School before leaving early and later earning her GED. Billy Wayne Smith & Vickie Lynn with Daniel At seventeen she married Billy Wayne Smith in 1985. The couple had one son, Daniel Wayne Smith, born in January 1986. The young family struggled financially and the marriage ended in divorce in 1993. Vickie returned to Houston where she worked in restaurants such as Jim’s Krispy Fried Chicken and Red Lobster before turning to modeling and dancing to support herself and her son. While working at a Houston club in 1991 she posed for professional photographs that were sent to Playboy magazine. In March 1992 she appeared on the cover and was later chosen as Playboy’s Playmate of the Year for 1993. Around this time she adopted the stage name Anna Nicole Smith. Her career quickly expanded into mainstream modeling. She signed with Guess Jeans and also modeled for H&M, Lane Bryant, and other brands. Her glamorous image was often styled to echo her idol Marilyn Monroe and she became a recognizable pop culture figure throughout the 1990s. Anna Nicole Smith in her Guess ad Smith pursued acting and appeared in several feature films. She had a cameo in The Hudsucker Proxy  (1994) and played a comedic role in Naked Gun 33⅓: The Final Insult  (1994). Although her acting career was limited, her highly public persona attracted media attention and maintained her celebrity status. Anna marrying J. Howard In 1994 she married Texas oil billionaire J. Howard Marshall II, whom she had met while working as a dancer years earlier. Their marriage, given their sixty-three-year age difference, became national news. When Marshall died in 1995 she was drawn into a long legal battle over his estate. The dispute over inheritance lasted for more than a decade and eventually reached the United States Supreme Court in the case Marshall v. Marshall . During the early 2000s she remained in the spotlight. From 2002 to 2004 she starred in her own reality television series The Anna Nicole Show  on E! Entertainment Television. The program documented her personal and professional life and further increased public interest in her story. Her personal life was often marked by deep challenges. On September 7, 2006, she gave birth to a daughter, Dannielynn Hope Marshall Stern, in Nassau, Bahamas. Only three days later, on September 10, her twenty-year-old son Daniel died suddenly while visiting her in the hospital. His death, caused by an accidental drug overdose, left her devastated and struggling with grief. On February 8, 2007, Anna Nicole Smith died at the age of thirty-nine in Hollywood, Florida. Her death was ruled an accidental overdose of prescription medications. She was buried at Lakeview Memorial Gardens and Mausoleums in Nassau, Bahamas, next to her son Daniel, fulfilling her wish to keep them together.

John Vernou Bouvier III was born on May 19, 1891, in Manhattan, New York County, New York. He was an American Wall Street stockbroker and socialite, remembered as the father of First Lady Jacqueline Kennedy Onassis and socialite Lee Radziwill, and the father in law of President John F. Kennedy. Known by the nickname "Black Jack," he was recognized for his flamboyant lifestyle. Black Jack Bouvier's Yale University graduation portrait, taken in 1914. Descended from a family that cultivated an image of French aristocracy, Bouvier received an elite education befitting his social standing. He attended Phillips Exeter Academy and Columbia Grammar & Preparatory School before enrolling at Columbia University. He later transferred to Yale University's Sheffield Scientific School, where he was a member of the exclusive Book and Snake secret society and played varsity tennis. Graduating in 1914, he seamlessly entered the family business, joining his father and uncle’s Wall Street firm, Bouvier, Bouvier & Bouvier, to begin his career as a stockbroker. His burgeoning career was interrupted by World War I. Bouvier served his country first in the United States Navy before transferring to the United States Army, where he rose to the rank of Major in the Army Air Service. After his discharge in 1919, he returned to a booming Wall Street that perfectly suited his extravagant tastes. He thrived in the excess of the Roaring Twenties, but the 1929 stock market crash dealt a severe blow to his finances and his pride, a setback from which he never fully recovered. John "Black Jack' Bouvier During WWI (Circa 1917-1919) On July 7, 1928, Bouvier married the beautiful and socially ambitious Janet Norton Lee. Their union produced two daughters, Jacqueline Lee (born 1929) and Caroline Lee (born 1933). In their early years, Bouvier was a doting and indulgent father who encouraged his daughters' independence and spirit. However, the marriage itself was a clash of fire and ice; his chronic womanizing, heavy drinking, and reckless gambling were in direct conflict with Janet's desire for social stability. The strain proved unbearable, and their stormy marriage ended in a bitter divorce in 1940. The divorce marked a definitive turning point in Black Jack Bouvier's life. While he retained his Wall Street job, his standing within his own family was irrevocably altered. When Janet married the immensely wealthy Hugh D. Auchincloss two years later, his daughters were absorbed into a world of sprawling estates like "Merrywood" in Virginia and "Hammersmith Farm" in Newport. Compared to the Auchincloss fortune, Bouvier's finances were modest, and this disparity became a constant source of tension. He settled into a bachelor's life, maintaining an apartment at 125 East 74th Street in Manhattan. Janet, Jackie, & Black Jack His direct influence on his daughters' upbringing was actively curtailed by Janet, who controlled their schedules. Despite this, Bouvier fought to remain a significant presence, maintaining a faithful correspondence and seeing them for outings in New York. He represented a world of glamour and excitement that stood in stark contrast to the formal society of their stepfather. His diminished role was often on public display, such as at Jacqueline's 1947 debutante ball, where he was a mere guest at an event that should have been his to host. The most devastating episode of his later life occurred on Jacqueline's wedding day, September 12, 1953. Deeply concerned that Bouvier's alcoholism would cause a scene at the marriage to Senator John F. Kennedy, the family watched him closely. On the morning of the wedding, Bouvier began drinking heavily at his hotel. By the time he was meant to leave for the church in Newport, he was belligerently intoxicated and unable to perform his duties. The difficult decision was made to bar him from the ceremony. Jackie & her stepfather Hugh A heartbroken Jacqueline was informed just before she left for the church, and her stepfather, Hugh Auchincloss, walked her down the aisle instead. For Bouvier, it was the ultimate public humiliation. The final four years of his life were marked by increasing isolation and deteriorating health, as the wedding incident had severed many of his remaining social ties to the family. His lifelong heavy drinking finally caught up with him, and in the spring of 1957, he was diagnosed with terminal liver cancer. His daughters did visit him during his final weeks at Lenox Hill Hospital. He fell into a coma on August 1st and died two days later, on August 3, 1957, at the age of 66. He was laid to rest in the Bouvier family plot in East Hampton.

Composer and conductor. He was a five-time Academy Award recipient whose work helped define film music in the second half of the twentieth century. Born John Barry Prendergast in York, England, his father was the proprietor of a chain of cinemas, and his mother was a classically trained pianist, influences that shaped his lifelong connection to music and film. He studied piano and trumpet as a child and, while serving in the British Army, took a correspondence course in composition and orchestration that laid the foundation for his professional career. In 1957, he formed the rock group Johnny Barry and the Seven, which led to recording and arranging opportunities that soon brought him into the world of film. He became internationally recognized for his association with the James Bond franchise, beginning with his arrangement of Monty Norman's theme for "Dr. No" in 1962, and his scoring of "From Russia With Love" (1963) and subsequent films in the series. His distinctive style, marked by dramatic brass and lush strings, became synonymous with Bond's cinematic identity. Beyond Bond, he composed scores for a wide range of films across several decades. His early works included "The L-Shaped Room" (1962), "Zulu" (1964), and "Born Free" (1966), the latter earning him two Academy Awards for Best Original Score and Best Original Song. He won further Oscars for "The Lion in Winter" (1968), "Out of Africa" (1985), and "Dances with Wolves" (1990). He received additional Academy Award nominations for "Mary, Queen of Scots" (1971) and "Chaplin" (1992), as well as Emmy Award nominations for the television specials "Elizabeth Taylor in London" (1963) and "Eleanor and Franklin: The White House Years" (1977). Other notable film scores included "The Chase" (1966), "Monte Walsh" (1970), "The Day of the Locust" (1975), "The Cotton Club" (1984), and music for the television series "The Persuaders!" and "The Adventurer." His contributions to cinema were widely regarded for their emotional depth, melodic richness, and ability to enhance the storytelling of the films he scored. Over the course of his career, he also received Grammy and Golden Globe Awards, cementing his reputation as one of the most influential film composers of his generation. He died in Oyster Bay, New York, at the age of seventy-seven and was laid to rest at Locust Valley Cemetery.