Behind the Gates of ‘Greater Than Gatsby’ Estate

The Crespi Estate has returned to the Dallas luxury real estate market, bringing with it a fabled past.

A storied home is magical. It’s more than just a structure — it’s a repository of chronicles, reflecting the lives of those who inhabited its rooms and visited its halls. The evolving narrative is shaped by its residents, filled with dreams, triumphs, and losses; the walls absorbing whispers from the past, and each room holding the possibility for a new chapter to be added to a timeless story.

The first time I attended a party at the mansion, I took the typical party pics, but my favorite snapshot was taken as I, unaware of the camera lens behind me, stood taking in the spectacular view from the balcony through massive French doors, imagining how Coco Chanel had peered from the balcony.

Walking up the opulent staircase through the imposing rooms and hallways, I was struck by the grand architectural elements and ornate French doors opening into meticulously sculpted gardens as I found myself seeking out what little remained of the personal touches a well-lived-in home embodies to discover the never-revealed stories of its grand halls.

My second visit to the Crespi Estate, aka the “Greater Than Gatsby” property, was for an over-the-top gathering that yielded some gram-worthy photo ops. This time, however, my normally squelched cynicism crept in as I channeled Fitzgerald and his critique of overabundance.

Which leads me to a another May article that pivots away from excess, division, and discontent, and focuses on the self-reflection our one wild and precious life deserves, the one Mary Oliver wrote of in “The Summer Day.”

Perhaps it’s my recent transition into empty-nesting or the whimpering pleas from the abandoned shelter animals that crowded the Dallas Convention Center at the Petco Love Mega Adoption Event that got me reflecting on meaningful alternatives to filling a void through external validation and how the profound yet simple poignancy of rescuing an animal becomes part of a symbiotic relationship, a mutually beneficial bond.

As I wandered among the countless crates of dogs, cats, and bunnies, crowds of people flocked to the adorable puppies and kittens. Dillinger, a senior tripod, sat patiently in his crate, scarcely focused on his lost limb, jumping to greet me as I approached. I hadn’t yet been privy to his backstory, but it was evident in his gentle, yet skeptical, stare. Unlike the adjacent corral of frolicking puppies, Dillinger sat forbearingly, waiting for someone, anyone, to stop for him. 

Once out of his crate, with an appreciation of even the slightest of cuddles, an unconditional love emanated from his undernourished frame, and somehow, we both understood that, as my grandfather would say, “No one ever promised you a rose garden.” To which I would always add, “But Papaw, that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t expect one, right?”

As the line between the rescuer and the rescued blurs, the rise of acceptance and unconditional love becomes a powerful catalyst for healing and contentment — a sentiment that holds true for people from all backgrounds, experiences, and means. 

It’s been told that even Countess Consuelo Crespi, after being widowed, turned over her expansive rose gardens and palatial estate ­— with the before-its-time elevator and all (formerly used to carry the couple’s huge steamer trunks on travels) — to her granddaughter and, after eloping, spent her final years finding meaning in the world by venturing abroad and, well, doing things her way. 

I’ll keep you posted on my efforts to find out whether her purposeful quests ever included a canine or feline companion. I certainly hope so.