Next, the Stately Subdivision

By Michael Demarest

In Palm Beach, white elephants produce million-dollar babies

The grand old mansions of America--hundreds of them--face the fate of all overblown and ultimately functionless creations, from Tyrannosaurus rex to Versailles. What to do with these residential relicts, some of them irreplaceable architectural treasures? European governments give their stateliest homes sociological security, with grants and tax concessions for their upkeep and public visitation. In the U.S., where the authorities can at best bestow landmark status on a white elephant, few inheritors can afford to inhabit one. Many great houses, from Rhode Island's Shadow Farm Estate to Chicago's Patterson McCormick manse, are being carved into expensive condominiums. Some of the big homes, however, cannot economically be converted into apartments and are simply razed.

Palm Beach, Fla., which may have the greatest concentration of white elephants in the U.S., will not allow builders to put up anything resembling a conventional subdivision. So Developer Robert Gottfried has devised a different solution for that rich, image-conscious community. In 1978 he bought Los Incas, a six-acre ocean-front estate that had been owned by the late Stephen ("Laddie") Sanford, the polo-playing heir to a carpet fortune. His widow Mary no longer wanted to live in the twelve-bedroom house, a copy of a Venetian palazzo; it was sold for $1.4 million. Gottfried tore down the old house and in its place is building a community of ten mini-palazzos. The new houses are packed as close together as the homes in many subdivisions, but there the resemblance ends. Gottfried's tract houses sell for up to $3 million each.

The builder, who in recent years has put up more than 40 similar houses in the area, specializes in a style of architecture he calls French Regency or "French Gottfried." From 6,500 to 10,000 sq. ft. in size, the mansionettes will run heavily to marble floors and crystal chandeliers. One house, still abuilding, will contain 126,800 Ibs. of marble, including 38 pillars of Carrara. (Gottfried has his own marble and mirror factories.) Other frills include loggias, libraries, galleries, butler's pantries, silver closets, spacious servants' rooms, built-in stereo and burglar alarm systems, and inlaid stone driveways. For all their opulence, the buildings have a clean-lined, classical look. Says Gottfried: "When completed they will look as if they have been here forever." Buyers to date include an aging Hollywood starlet, the reclusive widow of a Latin American dictator and a Tennessee coal tycoon. While some oldtimers deplore Gottfried's innovations, the community generally welcomes the hefty taxes they bring in.

Palm Beach's queen elephant is Mar-a-Lago, the 17-acre estate that belonged to Marjorie Merriweather Post, the cereal heiress, who died in 1973. She bequeathed the 115-room Moorish-style mansion and grounds to the U.S. Government, but Congress was unable to find a use for the place and has decided to give it back to the Post Foundation. Mar-a-Lago itself will probably be spared the wrecker's ball since it is protected by Palm Beach's landmark preservation ordinance. Conceivably, the estate could sprout half a dozen mini-Mar-a-Lagos. As for some two dozen other large estates, the city's landmark commission is investigating a tax-incentive scheme that may encourage their owners to keep them intact. It seems likely nonetheless that the Palm Beach look will be more and more French Gottfried.

--By Michael Demarest. Reported by Marilyn Alva/Palm Beach

With reporting by Marilyn Alva

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