Under a Gilded Moon(121)

Sometimes as an author, you look back—way back—and realize you were doing research on a book long before that novel ever came to be plotted or pitched. In my early twenties—quite some time ago now—I was able to spend several summers working for two different and equally beautiful summer camps in western North Carolina, Camp Rockmont in Black Mountain and Camp Gwynn Valley in Brevard. Those long, lovely summers helped solidify my enthusiasm for the Blue Ridge Mountains and my respect for the culture that has grown and evolved there.

One of the summers I worked for Camp Rockmont, some of us on camp staff—all of us sunburned and sweaty—were invited to a home on the grounds of Biltmore Estate belonging to a young woman my age, Dini Cecil (later Pickering), who was connected to Rockmont through a young man she was dating and would eventually marry. Dini, whom I remember as gracious, down-to-earth, and unassuming, turned out to be the person, along with her brother Bill, who would later inherit Biltmore. This seemed a fitting place to thank her again after all these years for the hospitality and pizza that night, and to thank the current staff of Biltmore Estate, who’ve unfailingly responded to all my questions with patience and interest.

I should admit that I began research on George Vanderbilt fully prepared to depict him as merely a background, one-dimensional character, nothing more than the privileged benefactor of his robber baron relatives. But the more I read, the more intrigued I became by the actual man’s complexity: his love for art and the outdoors, his voracious reading, his desire early in life to become an Episcopal priest, his ongoing interest in matters of faith, his contributions to forestry and sustainability, his hospitality, his generosity, and his commitment to bring hundreds of new jobs, as well as training and schools, to western North Carolina.

Thank you to the owners and staff of Parnassus Books, my local independent bookstore, so committed to writers and readers alike.

Thank you to Bryan Stevenson and the National Memorial for Peace and Justice. It was through your work that I discovered the historical Robert Bratchett of North Carolina and created the character in his honor.

Thank you to the keepers of the Asheville Public Library Archives, where, close to closing time one night, I found Ling Yong (or Gunn) in one of the thick stacks of newspaper clipping folders an uncomplaining archivist brought, even though I looked like just the sort of scatterbrained researcher who loses all track of time and stays up till the last nanoseconds of closing.

Like all historical novels, a significant amount of research went into the writing of this book. I’d particularly like to thank the following authors for their books, which were among the most helpful: Denise Kiernan for The Last Castle: The Epic Story of Love, Loss, and American Royalty in the Nation’s Largest Home; Ellen Erwin Rickman for Biltmore Estate (Images of America); Emma Bell Miles for The Spirit of the Mountains; Drema Hall Berkheimer for Running on Red Dog Road and Other Perils of an Appalachian Childhood; Jerry E. Patterson for The Vanderbilts; Witold Rybczynski for A Clearing in the Distance: Frederick Law Olmsted and America in the Nineteenth Century; John Alexander Williams for Appalachia: A History; Arthur T. Vanderbilt II for Fortune’s Children: The Fall of the House of Vanderbilt; Sean Dennis Cashman for America in the Gilded Age; and last, but decidedly not least, the Foxfire series on Southern Appalachian life. Jonathan Peter Spiro’s biography Defending the Master Race: Conservation, Eugenics, and the Legacy of Madison Grant was enormously helpful in sparking my imagination about the complex and appalling Grant. (More on him in Historical Notes.)

Throughout this book, I tried to keep historical details accurate, since that’s part of the fun, of course, of reading historical novels. In a few instances, though, such as with the express train from New York to Washington, I took small artistic licenses: the elegant Royal Blue actually left from another station in New York besides Grand Central Depot, but I chose the Depot for its location and because, as the precursor to Grand Central Station, it would have more resonance with readers.

Finally, thank you so much to the book clubs and individual readers who’ve brought your own stories and insights to thinking about my earlier books and this one. It’s always one of my favorite parts of the often-isolated writing life when I get to visit with readers in person or over social media. A thousand thank-yous always.