
What his peerage peers did not know, however, was that, as war in Europe loomed, he was deeply involved in helping the United States play technological catch-up with Germany. His friends knew he was an amateur scientist who, for years, had funded a laboratory in the “Tower House” of his stately mansion. The place was so extended-pinky swank, it’s where Emily Post wrote her famous Etiquette: The Blue Book of Social Usage.Īll of which is to set the tone for what happened here, in this rare air, in the 1920s and 1930s, when one of Tuxedo Park’s own, a scion of money who made vastly more of it, was leading a secret life. When the gentlemen of the day adopted a new style of dinner jacket, fresh from Savile Row, at an annual ball, the jacket from that day forward took the name of the town. They liked it so much, some of them decided to live there, creating one of the wealthiest addresses in the wealthy Gilded Age. The area was first used as a hunting grounds for the well-heeled in the late 19th century. Tuxedo comes from a Lenape word, tucsedo or p’tuxseepu, which means crooked water or crooked river. Tuxedo Park, the tony, grandly gated community in Orange County, wasn’t named after the fancy dinner jacket.

A palace of science in an exclusive community, led by an eccentric tycoon, played an integral role in winning WWII.
