railroad lady

Writing about the Margaret Mitchell House yesterday reminded me that I went to another historical house a few weeks ago. I haven’t written about it because instead of inspiring me to write, as the Margaret Mitchell House did, that house inspired me to sit around and wait for a gigantic railroad inheritance. Three weeks later, and that hasn’t happened. I am speaking of the Biltmore Estate, which is the largest privately owned home in maybe the universe? And was built by George Vanderbilt with his piles and piles of railroad money.

Despite its status as Asheville NC’s premiere attraction, I had only been to the Biltmore Estate twice before. Once, when I was a baby – that night, our house caught on fire and we couldn’t have Christmas there the next morning. And once on a school trip roundabouts the fifth grade. When you tell people from around the country that you’re from Asheville, they tend to ask about the Biltmore Estate, and you have to tell them that Biltmore is just too expensive for the peons that actually live its shadow to make a habit of visiting. The railroad fortune didn't trickle down to us.

Now, the long-ago night that our house caught on fire, we were all saved because my mom was pregnant with my brother George, and she had to get up in the middle of the night to pee and she smelled the smoke. Now, 25 years later, George came to the rescue again by his status as a Biltmore Estate passholder. I guess he has mad connectionz now and he was able to get my parents and me some free passes to tour the house, complete with audio guide. So off the four of us went to tour this grand estate. (Though this may get me in trouble later, I do want to note that my other brother, William, was invited to come on this outing with us. However, William fell under the sway of some lady at the piano bar the night before and didn’t make it home in time to go. I guess he has some crazy connections of his own.)

Now, the thing that might drive you crazy during a Biltmore Estate tour was that this was only the “country home.” It was not the main residence, despite the fact that it had 250 rooms outfitted with tip-top of available luxury. It was not the most encouraging tour to take during this economy, but I did gain a wealth of fun facts! (pun intended!)

One of the most interesting things that I learned from the sweet soothing voice on my audio guide player was where the name “Biltmore” came from. Living in Western North Carolina, I took that name for granted and just assumed that it was a common name that was proper for shopping malls and hotels. However, it comes from combining “Bildt,” an area in Holland from which the Vanderbilts originated, and “more” meaning rolling hills. One fact I did not learn was how much the house actually cost, and that is because that’s a secret that George Vanderbilt took with him to his premature grave.

Premature grave: good name for a band or a short story? Or too morbid? I’m torn.

Anyways, this house is gigantic and I’m getting pretty tired just thinking back on my adventure through it. The highlights for me were the banquet hall, because it just had the most amazing walls, an organ and a triple fireplace. Most of the basement, which includes a swimming pool, a bowling alley, and all the kitchen-related rooms, is pretty awesome. And of course I loved the library, which had more than 10,000 books, a secret passageway, a fireplace and a massive painting on the ceiling. The furniture may not have looked immensely comfortable, but maybe by sitting straight up, George Vanderbilt got more reading done. The audio guide man estimated that G.V. read two books a week, which made me feel supremely inferior as a reader in addition to the feelings of inferiority that were already raging within me at not being a railroad heiress.

Anyways, after going through a ton of beautiful bedrooms and sitting rooms, trying to decide which one I’d want to stay in, it was off to the gift shop, where we spent a fair amount of time around the free dips and snacks you can try. Once we had a little something in our stomach, we went to the winery. It was a rainy day in the off-season, and George said the winery was the least crowded that he’d ever seen. Plus, he said we got to sample more wines than usual. I hope he was not saying those things just to make me feel better about not having inherited enough money to build myself a castle complete with its own village yet. My favorite wine was the Cabernet Sauvignon Blanc du Noir, described in my tasting brochure this way: “Semi-sweet raspberry and citrus flavors with hints of melon round out this wine’s laid-back approach.” In addition to being extremely delicious, the man pouring wines mentioned it paired well with barbeque, and whenever I hear the word “barbeque” my ears tend to perk up and pay attention. So I got a bottle of that, in the hopes that that Vanderbilt magic would rub off and suddenly I would have some mansions and whatnot.

One final note about George (my brother, not the Vanderbilt)….in addition to saving our lives in that fire years ago and snagging us free passes to the Biltmore Estate, he’s also become quite the Biltmore tour guide, as he’s been on so many special passholder tours now that he’s chockfull of fun facts, much in the same way that Raisin Bran is full of raisins. I am really not doing all the things that I learned from him during the tour justice in this blog because I am tired. So if you have any questions about the house, you should direct them to him, or hire him to take you around the house, because all I will do is whine about how I have no railroad inheritance.