Dawn Berkoski

It was a sunny day in January when I visited Caumsett State Historic Park. I was staying with a friend in Huntington, and she filled me in on the local history as we drove along the Gold Coast of Long Island, where some of the wealthiest homes in New York once stood.

The Great Gatsby remains one of my favorite novels, and visiting this preserve and other estates on the Gold Coast felt like traveling back in time to the opulence of the roaring 1920’s.

It was 1922 when Marshall Field III brought the 1700 plus acres in Huntington and named the land, Caumsett, or place by a sharp rock. It is a fitting Matinecock Indian name, as the woodlands drop off sharply into the Long Island Sound, and tree roots dangle off the edge, mingling with boulders along the rocky shore.

In the same year Field was acquiring Caumsett, Scott and Zelda Fitzgerald moved into a house in the nearby town of Great Neck. That is where Fitzgerald began writing The Great Gatsby, though inspiration may have sparked a few years earlier, when they honeymooned in a summer cottage next to a mansion in Westport, Connecticut, which was directly across the water.

And while many Gold Coast mansions claim to have inspired the lavish homes in Fitzgerald’s novel, it’s difficult to say, as most of them no longer exit. Though, thanks to preservation efforts, you can still visit some of the properties. And that is exactly what I did.

I walked the trails, imagining the glitz, glamour, and grandeur. I thought of the opening lines of the story, the quote by Nick Carraway’s father that warns not to judge others.

It’s a rule I try to follow, especially as a writer who loves to travel and gain insight into different perspectives and cultures. The more alien an environment, the more I want to try and understand, and so I write about it, thinking and observing, wanting to connect.

Like Fitzgerald’s character, Nick, I’ve tried to understand extravagant lifestyles. I grew up in New York and experienced it with my own eyes, the great divide and disparity between the poor urban areas and the extreme wealth on the oceanside. I’ve been to lavish parties in mansions with several guest rooms. I’ve stayed in apartments that could barely fit a cot. I’ve tried very hard not to judge.

I wish Nick could see Long Island now.

Generations apart, and some things remain the same while others are completely different. Those urban areas in New York have been snatched up by the wealthy; old tenements and factories turned into expensive apartments for rent or kept as a third or fourth home to kick around in when not in Europe. The farms I used to visit are all but gone, sold to developers to build condos on, but there are a few vineyards and horse barns left.

There are horses at Caumsett still, run by a local equestrian center. You may find someone riding along as you walk. There’s also a barn, woods, gardens, fishing, scuba diving, and plenty of trails sloping down a hill towards the beach. In the summer months, music concerts, yoga, and workshops take place on the expansive lawns. It has become a place for everyone.

But in the cool of January, all was quiet. The water, clear and blue, seemed to shimmer like glass. And a yellow rock sat on the shore, watching me as I roamed. Perhaps silently judging me like the eyes of Doctor Eckleburg, debating my worth.

Dawn B~