The Diary of Ellen Rimbauer: My Life at Rose Red by Ellen Rimbauer Page B

into
    the forties—a more typical temperature. By early the next morning,
    the paper reported that over twenty thousand pipes had burst
    across the city. Miraculously, our new home, perched high on the
    hill, was somehow spared. We suffered not a single burst pipe—a
    fact that quickly made the social circles. John claims it is the
    result of good planning on his and the engineers’ part, having
    insulated the pipes and run them on interior walls. It didn’t
    hurt, I suppose, that the staff has had ?res raging in every room,
    and the steam heat on as well, preparing the home for our party.
    No matter! Our guests, many without running water in their
    homes, were delighted to join us that evening!
    And now again, to the house itself, for I am smitten with her!
    Such splendor, such lavish expense has seldom been seen, certainly
    on these shores. Perhaps only Rockefeller, Vanderbilt or
    Carnegie has ever built an American home so grand as ours. It is
    still under construction as I write this (will it ever be completed?
    I wonder), and yet we were able to tour our guests through some
    twenty thousand square feet of living space. The front Entry Hall,
    gallery to John’s hunting trophies, is sixty feet long, a stunning
    foyer of rich, African mahogany that leads to the curving two-
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    sided staircase ascending to the ?rst of four ?oors. To stand at
    the base of the stairs, one faces a hallway both right and left, forward
    and back. Ahead is the Kitchen and Solarium. To the right
    is a picture gallery and several sitting rooms. To the left is the
    Banquet Hall, more hallways and parlors, the Breakfast Room. It
    has taken me days just to learn my way around this palace. One
    can get lost so quickly and easily.
    Our inaugural was attended by over two hundred and ?fty. All
    ate dinner in one of six rooms, and then there was dancing in the
    Grand Ballroom until well into the wee hours. We had a senator,
    the mayor, the great Broadway stage actress Marjorie Savoy, a
    baseball player whose name I cannot recall but is said to be quite
    famous, the soprano and stunning beauty Jeanine Sabino (with
    whom John spent a little too much time for my liking) and two
    Italians and Chinese, all three of whom are rumored to be gin
    runners or some other form of lowlife and were invited only
    because John’s importing of oil depends on their cooperation.
    (The more I learn of this business, the more horri?ed I am. One
    great advantage of our year abroad was that John took me into his
    con?dence regarding his oil matters and I learned a great deal.
    He seems constantly involved in secret negotiations to bring
    re?neries and minor oil companies together to extort the railroads
    for lower shipping costs, to affect supply, to negotiate better
    labor costs. So much secrecy is involved—I had no idea!)
    I wore a white dress that was such a success with the men that I
    shall wear it each and every year from now on! The women were
    all dressed so beautifully, rich velvets, silks and wool. The men
    wore tuxedos—white tie, so elegant and re?ned. I tell you, we
    were the toast of the town and shall remain in high regard for
    years to come because of it. Few could believe the size of the
    grand house, as close to town as it is. I heard words like
    “museum” and “royal palace” on the lips of everyone who toured.
    The decorations are splendid—our long trip so justi?ed now that
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    I see all that we collected so beautifully coordinated. It is sumptuous
    without being gaudy, extravagant without being hideous. I am
    quite proud of both John and myself for what we’ve accomplished.
    I share here a conversation I overheard while approaching the
    Library (6,000 volumes!) between two men—Tanner Longford,
    chancellor of the university, and Bradley Webster, head of a bank
    that competes with my father’s. I point out, Dear Diary, that
    these are not small-minded men—far from it!—and that to hear
    such talk (taken in con?dence, I’m sure) adds a