When Cornelius Vanderbilt died on January 4, 1877, he left behind a fortune estimated at $105 million. But the distribution of that wealth sparked a bitter family feud that outlived him. The Commodore, as he was known, gave roughly 95% of his estate to his eldest son, William. His other ten surviving children received only a pittance by comparison.
For a man already infamous for his cold business tactics, the decision struck many as cruel even by his standards. Three of those overlooked children refused to accept it quietly. Vanderbilt’s second son, Cornelius, and his daughters Ethelinda and Mary challenged the will. Their accusation was disturbing, involving the supernatural and a dead mother’s voice.
Cornelius Vanderbilt was not the first of his family in America. His ancestor, Yan Erson, arrived as an indentured servant in the 1600s and adopted the surname Vanderbilt after his home village of De Bilt in the Netherlands. Born on May 27, 1794, the future Commodore grew up in a household that struggled financially. His father, also named Cornelius, operated a small ferry in New York Harbor.
At age 11, young Cornelius left school to work alongside his father. By 16, he was ready to strike out on his own. He borrowed $100 from his mother to launch his first ferry business in 1810, carrying passengers and freight between Staten Island and Manhattan. Despite his youth, his ambition and commanding presence earned him a nickname from rival captains: the Commodore.
In 1813, he married his first cousin, Sophia Johnson. The couple would go on to have 13 children, matching the era’s expectation that successful men have large families. As his reputation grew, so did his opportunities. In 1817, wealthy Georgia planter Thomas Gibbons hired him to captain a steamboat between New York and New Jersey.
Vanderbilt accepted and eventually took over managing Gibbons’s broader operations, gaining firsthand experience in running a large enterprise. He worked for Gibbons and later his son until 1829, when he turned his full attention to building his own empire. Over the following decades, he expanded into multiple ferry lines and, by 1834, found himself battling the Hudson River Steamboat Association monopoly. He fought back with undercut prices and luxury amenities, and after just one year, the association paid him $100,000 plus $5,000 annually to leave the route.
Eventually, the Hudson River proved too small for the Commodore. He moved into the Long Island Sound trade, where he spent the next decade dominating competitors with the same ruthless tactics. He then set his sights on rail. During the 1840s, he targeted the New York, Providence, and Boston Railroad.
By cutting competing fares, he drove the stock price down and took over as company president by 1847. Vanderbilt relocated his family to a home he built at 10 Washington Place in New York City. The house was large but modest in luxury, which fed the New York elite’s ongoing disdain for the man they considered unrefined. When the Confederacy seceded in 1861, Vanderbilt offered his grandest steamship, the Vanderbilt, to the Union Navy.
The Secretary of the Navy initially declined, believing the war would end within months and that the ship would be too costly to maintain. A year later, with the conflict dragging on, President Lincoln personally requested the vessel’s aid against the Confederate ship CSS Virginia. That same year brought personal tragedy. Vanderbilt’s youngest son, George Washington Vanderbilt, had joined the US Service Academy to serve the Union.
He graduated but contracted a sudden, fatal illness before ever seeing combat. The loss shook even the steel-hearted Commodore, who responded by throwing himself back into business. In 1864, he purchased the New York and Harlem Railroad. He later claimed he bought it simply because others said it was worthless and he wanted to prove them wrong.
He appointed his eldest son, William, as vice president. This was a gamble, as Cornelius had long considered William a simpleton, partly due to a nervous breakdown he had suffered. But William proved himself by efficiently running the Staten Island Railway, eventually becoming operational manager of all his father’s railroads and securing his position as the heir. Vanderbilt continued his expansion, gaining control of the New York Central Railroad and the Hudson River Railroad.
He seemed untouchable. In 1868, he proved he was not. That year, his long-running secret partnership with Daniel Drew fell apart. Out of spite, Vanderbilt tried to corner the stock of the Erie Railway, where Drew served as treasurer.
What Vanderbilt didn’t know was that Drew and railway magnate Jay Gould had been deliberately issuing spurious shares to water down the company’s stock. When it was over, Vanderbilt had lost more than $7 million. It was an unprecedented defeat, and he was only able to recover by threatening legal action. Gould became his archrival and spent years attempting to embarrass the Commodore, who often lashed out publicly in response.
The loss of his wife Sophia in 1868 also hit him hard, despite his history of neglect. The following year, he remarried. His new wife, Frank Armstrong Crawford, was also his cousin and 45 years his junior. They married in London, Ontario on August 21, 1869.
In the late 1870s, Vanderbilt’s health collapsed under a combination of chronic conditions affecting his heart and stomach, possibly including syphilis. For eight months, he raged at his doctors, insulting them and refusing to cooperate. Confined to his room, his ultimate cause of death was listed as exhaustion from the strain of his illnesses. He was 82.
The will he left behind became a family battleground. William received the overwhelming bulk of the estate. The other children got far less, and some were willing to fight. The siblings’ accusation centered on a medium named Mr.
Stoddard. They claimed William had hired Stoddard to perform a seance for their dying father. During the alleged session, Stoddard reportedly channeled the voice of Sophia, Vanderbilt’s deceased first wife. Her message was clear: all of Cornelius’s children hated him, except William, who alone was worthy of the fortune.
Whether the seance truly took place is a matter of historical dispute. But the accusation was serious enough that the matter was settled privately. Cornelius Jr. , Ethelinda, and Mary received additional cash and trust funds from their brother.
The amounts were substantial, yet they paled in comparison to the main inheritance. For the daughters, the slight may not have come as a surprise. The Commodore had always wanted more sons and made his disappointment in his daughters clear throughout his life. His misogyny extended into his marriage as well, as he frequently cheated on his wife.
Despite the bitterness at the end, the Commodore’s legacy was secure. He had built one of the largest fortunes in American history and transformed the nation’s transportation networks. His achievements survived him, as did the resentments of the children he left behind.
