The iron gates of Seaview Terrace rose behind a wrought-iron fence, the mansion looming like something out of a medieval French countryside transplanted onto the coast of Rhode Island. For anyone who had watched the gothic soap opera Dark Shadows, the sight was instantly familiar: this was Collinwood, the fictional estate where vampires and tormented souls prowled candlelit corridors. But the real history of this house was stranger than any television melodrama. A millionaire had once dismantled an entire mansion in Washington, D.
C. , shipped it north, and reassembled it stone by stone in Newport, only for his family to lose it to tax debt, then sell it for a sum so small it seemed like a rounding error. Newport had long been the de facto summer residence for America’s wealthiest families during the Gilded Age, and today the city is known for more than a hundred grand but empty mansions. These stately homes are not mere relics of a bygone era; they are storehouses of untold stories that could change our understanding of history.
Step inside one, and the wood creaks underfoot, cobwebs decorate the corners, and dust floats in beams of light. The atmosphere is heavy with the scent of lives long departed. It feels as though those who lived here are watching, wondering why you have entered their world. Indeed, these houses carry secrets centuries old, stories intertwined with the fabric of American history, waiting to be discovered.
Seaview Terrace, also known as Carey Mansion, was completed in the roaring year of 1925, a stunning marvel of sixteenth-century French architectural art. If a familiar chill ran down your spine at the sight of this luxurious place, it was because Dark Shadows fans recognized it immediately as the exterior of the fictional Collinwood. What stood here was a palace that had traveled in style. Edson Bradley, a millionaire who amassed his fortune in the whiskey trade, did the unthinkable: he moved the entire mansion from Washington, D.
C. , to Newport in the lavish 1920s. This was no half-hearted relocation. He reassembled rooms that had actually been imported from France.
In the end, a stunning 54-room palace emerged. The award-winning architect Howard Greenley contributed his creative genius to the design, though fate was not always kind. After the Bradleys died in the mid-1930s, their daughter suffered the bitter reality of losing the mansion to tax debt. Soldiers took over the property during World War II, and the estate was sold for a paltry $8,000 — a trivial sum compared to its original cost of two million dollars.
In the fabulous 1950s, the mansion became a summer boarding school for girls and even served as the backdrop for a film adaptation of The Great Gatsby. By 1974, ownership passed to the Carey family, who later leased portions to a university. But this residence was more than brick and mortar; it was material for legends. Rumors suggested the mansion appeared on television programs dealing with supernatural phenomena, a truly spine-tingling prospect.
It also boasted a unique whispering gallery, a magnificent stained glass window, and an ornamental hedge so extravagant it was the largest of its kind in Newport. So if you found yourself wandering Newport and came upon this massive castle-like property, remember it was not just another beautiful facade but a sprawling palace with a past as dramatic as any film script. A short distance away lay a mystery, an abandoned mansion shrouded in the unknown, known as The Bells. The park in which it stood, Brenton Point State Park, was established in 1976, but The Bells had graced the landscape for a century before that.
The views were breathtaking panoramas of an endless sea and perfect land, the embodiment of any millionaire’s dream. In its early days, the mansion was known by a different name: The Reefs. Built in the distant year of 1876, it was the luxurious refuge of Theodore M. Davis, an exceptional figure who combined the roles of lawyer and high-ranking copper magnate.
After a long day in the courtroom or the boardroom, one could not imagine a more opulent place to relax than a specially designed mansion in Newport. But Theodore Davis was not just another wealthy Gilded Age gentleman. He was an adventurer and a connoisseur of all that was strange and unique. Within the bounds of The Reefs, Davis displayed a stunning collection of treasures gathered from his travels around the world — think Egyptian artifacts of equal rarity.
The mansion was nothing less than a living museum, a vivid canvas of Davis’s boundless love of travel and his diverse tastes. Sadly, the good days came to an end. Davis died in 1915, and the luxurious residence passed into the hands of the Boudong family. In 1928, a divorce ended their stay, but it was not the end of the mansion’s rich story.
During the war years, the federal government seized the property for defensive purposes and planted a military battery directly on its lush grounds. The Boudong family recovered their mansion after the war, but its charm had faded. The divorce had turned it into a monument to sorrow, with echoes of happier days reverberating through its rooms. Then came the unthinkable.
A devastating fire in 1960 razed this architectural masterpiece to the ground, leaving it a mere shell of its former glory. Yet amid the decay, a spark of life remained. Local graffiti artists found their canvas in the crumbling walls of this abandoned property. And so The Bells, once a haven of luxury, now served as a backdrop for contemporary street art.
The mansion may have been in ruins, but it was undergoing a colorful and unexpected renaissance. Third on the list stood Belcourt Castle, an architectural wonder within Newport’s luxurious surroundings. Designed by the renowned architect Richard Morris Hunt for Oliver Hazard Perry Belmont, this massive structure looked more like a fantasy castle than a mere holiday residence. Conceived in 1891 and completed in 1894, it cost a staggering $3.
2 million, equivalent to about $80 million today. Mr. Belmont was a man of refined taste, drawing inspiration from the arts of the French Renaissance and Gothic aesthetics, with touches of German, English, and Italian art for an eclectic appeal. The castle was modeled on a hunting lodge at Versailles, and it should be remembered that Belmont was immensely fond of horses.
Imagine: the ground floor of this grand building served as a luxurious garage and stable for Belmont’s beloved horses. Upstairs, the master bedroom displayed scenes of noble life, complete with the first permanent shower in Newport. But life dealt Belmont an unpleasant surprise. He was robbed and forced to remain in a New York hospital all summer, delaying his first encounter with his completed castle.
The scale of this residence was immense. Designed in the Norman style around a majestic central courtyard, even the roof itself was a sight to behold, adorned with copper windows and chimneys. Since Belmont was not fond of Newport’s nouveaux riches, he placed the main entrance far from the bustling Bellevue Avenue. The interior design was a wonder in itself.
The impressive great hall led to what was called Lodge Road. Huge rooms were decorated with wide stained glass windows boasting the Belmont family crest. Although the original red damask fabric had been replaced with a golden fabric, the grandeur of the place remained untouched. As expected, the castle was a chameleon, changing its ownership, purpose, and even its facade.
It had been everything from a private residence to a venue for music festivals, eventually becoming a museum. The interiors embodied the American melting pot — think of the taste of sushi in California, country melodies in Nashville, and the pizza wars of New York, all united under one magnificent roof. Resilience was the hallmark of this great property; it survived zoning troubles, World War II, and even neighbor protests to remain standing and glorious. Real estate fluctuations saw its value rise and fall, yet it remained an enduring legacy, especially under the influence of Harlem Tiney, who not only lived there but gave tours of the home before it was put up for sale.
The Tiney family’s contribution to Belcourt was evident: they raised the ceilings and designed rooms in the style of French salons. While some artifacts had unfortunately disappeared, the survival of many others enhanced the castle’s undying charm. Belcourt Castle was more than a building; it was an epic, a magnificent saga in the heart of Newport. The next marvel was the mysterious charm of Wildacre, an estate that seamlessly blended historical richness, architectural creativity, and a keen eye for craftsmanship.
This mansion settled like a hidden gem in the picturesque Price’s Neck Bay of Rhode Island, standing guard over the sea since the dawn of the twentieth century, specifically 1901. Its 3. 5 acres, designed by the famous Olmsted Brothers firm, were nothing less than a masterpiece. The original owner, Albert H.
Olmsted, was not just an ordinary wealthy individual; he had the honor of being a relative of Frederick Law Olmsted, the visionary behind the famous Central Park in New York City. Fast forward to 1998, when Dorrance Hamilton, a passionate advocate for preserving historical jewels, stepped in. When she took responsibility for this 8,000-square-foot wonder, she understood the weight of the task before her. To breathe new life into the residence, engineers from Madison Spencer were called in to execute a delicate balancing act between renovating the place and respecting its original architectural splendor, a legacy of the Olmsted brothers and architect Irving Gill.
The roof sagged, as if burdened by the weight of its own history. Modern amenities had to be integrated to make the mansion habitable year-round. Skilled builder Anthony Pettitas was brought in, using local Newport stone to revive the property’s original aura. The landscape and mansion were cleverly integrated through a series of natural stones, including blue stone, granite, and green stone.
The careful placement of the pool, mimicking Olmsted’s original saltwater pools, preserved the subtle Asian character intended in the original design. Overcoming the challenges posed by the unique stone shapes was no easy feat, but it was handled with creativity and elegance. Brian Arnold, the man responsible for the stone restoration, painted a vivid picture: years of erosion had left their mark, and extensive repairs were inevitable. The scale of this renovation was enormous — 228 tons of stone and an 18-month timeline completed by a diligent crew of 22 workers.
A heroic effort by any measure. Dealing with local regulations and agencies was another obstacle, but there was also the vigilant oversight of the Newport Historic District community and the Coastal Resources Management Council, two entities naturally concerned with the mansion’s precarious proximity to the ocean. After overcoming the hurdles and bureaucracy, eyes finally opened to the vision of this meticulous restoration. Now Wildacre stood in new attire, a model of collaborative effort and a timeless piece of history.
A true masterpiece reborn. Finally, Beachwood Mansion revealed its captivating story, a tale steeped in wealth, creative vision, and historical weight. Originally designed in the 1850s as a seaside villa for Daniel Parrish, a New York clothing merchant, the ambitious project was undertaken by the architectural duo Andrew Jackson Downing and Calvert Vaux. Sadly, Downing’s untimely death in a steamboat accident led Vaux to complete the project to its end in 1853.
That triumph was short-lived, as a devastating fire swept through the place, prompting a rebuild in 1856, again under Vaux’s meticulous supervision. The Astor family entered the scene in 1880, representing the pinnacle of high American society at the time. William Backhouse Astor Jr. acquired the property for just under $200,000.
To bestow upon the mansion the grandeur characteristic of that era, Astor enlisted the architect Richard Morris Hunt. His additions transformed the mansion into a Gilded Age haven, complete with a grand banquet hall, intricate libraries, and luxurious music rooms, with a Parisian touch via magnificent wallpaper. After Mrs. Astor’s death in 1908, the property went through a series of ownership changes.
Then came 1981, when Paul Madden, a film school graduate, breathed new life into Beachwood. In collaboration with the University of Rhode Island, he founded the Beachwood Theater Company, turning the mansion into a living museum where actors donned Victorian costumes, impersonating everyone from the Astor family to the servant staff. Even historical high-society events were reenacted, a spectacle that gave the property a tangible sense of the past. In the modern era, the story took another turn with Larry Ellison, co-founder of Oracle, who bought Beachwood in 2010 for $10.
5 million. Ellison’s vision was no less ambitious. He sought to restore the mansion to its 1881 glory with plans to turn part of it into an art museum. Furthering his vision, Ellison also acquired neighboring properties, reflecting the original grandiose dream of William B.
Astor Jr. And so, Beachwood Mansion remained a captivating blend of architectural genius, historical significance, and evolving artistic vision. As it began a new chapter under Ellison’s stewardship, this storied property continued to be a living, vibrant symbol of America’s complex relationship with wealth, history, and cultural evolution.
