Dans Papers - May 18, 2007

In the middle of the 1920s, Henry DuPont (of those DuPonts) decided to build a nice, spacious, 60 or 70-room Georgian-style mansion on Gin Lane in Southampton. This is the very same home that is now owned by Calvin Klein, with the bizarre history relating to wealthy and controversial Barry Trupin, who owned the house in the 1970s and 1980s. Henry DuPont decided to build his estate with the local firm Donnelly and Corrigan, who constructed somewhere around 60 of the great mansions of that era. The home for Henry DuPont was crafted by many artisans, who effectively translated Henry's wealth into a tangible, architectural form.

As the story goes, Mr. Donnelly, the architect, hired a gatekeeper named Jones --called "Jonesy" for security. Mr. Donnelly gave Jonesy only -- instruction. What he said was, "Nobody, absolutely nobody, is to ever go into that house," unless he (Mr. Donnelly) specifically tells Jonesy in advance. '"Nobody' means 'nobody.' You work for me, I pay you, so only I say who goes in," an old timer recalls Donnelly telling Jonesy. The work back then was usually efficient and timely and when the inside of the home was almost completed, a very fancy, chauffer-driven car arrived in front. After the chauffer open the doors, out stepped a very well dressed couple who started to stroll to the entrance of the magnificent home. Just as they were to enter the home, Jonesy appeared, to see if these cultured individuals were on his list. "May I help you?" He asked. Henry DuPont calmly explained that he and his wife, Ruth Wales DuPont, were the owners of the house and wanted to take a peek at the work being done. Jonesy checked his list again, did not see their names on the list and told Henry DuPont, "Sorry, can't let you in." Henry DuPont explained the situation again and Jonesy explained that he worked for Donnelly and Donnelly said, "Nobody, absolutely nobody gets into the house unless they are on the list." Henry, understanding the situation, got into his car and went into the Village of Southampton, to the offices of Donnelly and Corrigan. When he heard what had transpired at the house, Mr. Donnelly was embarrassed and went back to the house with the DuPonts immediately. Donnelly told Jonesy, "This is Mr. Henry DuPont, the man who hired me and everybody here." Jonesy then understood the gravity of what had just happened and somehow explained again to Mr. DuPont that his job was to only let in those whose names were on Donnelly's list. Mr. Donnelly then proceeded to give Henry DuPont a tour of the almost completed oceanfront masterpiece. Both Mr. and Mrs. DuPont were very pleased. As Henry DuPont was leaving, he told Donnelly that, when all the work was over and all the workers leave, "I want that man," pointing to Jonesy, "working here for me!" Jonesy went on to work for the DuPonts for many years. His daughter still lives in Southampton. When the house was completed, Mr. DuPont gave it the name "Chesterton."

One cannot write about this house without mentioning the work that Barry Trupin, the next owner of Winterthur, did to it upon his purchase of the mansion. While supposedly putting a new face on Chesterton, Mr. Turpin set a new standard for grotesquely bad taste. Erecting turrets and towers to match the gargoyles he added, which seemed out of place on a home on Gin Lane, Barry Trupin almost became Public Enemy Number One in the area when he re-named Chesterton "Dragon's Head." Someone said it looked worse than the Wicked Witch's castle in the movie The Wizard of Oz. Most people said even harsher things. Then, after some financial setbacks, Mr. Trupin sold the home to Francesco Galesi. The home, which at one time went unsold at 45 million dollars, was cleaned up a bit by Mr. Galesi, who removed most of Mr. Trupin's hideously eccentric additions. Then, Galesi listed the house at $30 million. Calvin Klein purchased the house at $27 million, without even going upstairs. Today, the home can be seen from the Gin Lane side and, from some angles, you can actually see right through it to the ocean. While living there, Henry DuPont also purchased 31.5 acres on the bay side of Gin Lane, creating the Ruth Wales DuPont Sanctuary, to preserve their view of the beautiful sunsets.

If only the magnificent old mansions of the Hamptons could talk, what tales they could tell of the families whose wealth fostered the social scene so many read about today. But instead, they stand as silent monuments, their secrets locked up in stone and mortar, save for a few lingering tales such as these.