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They called it the last of the American Versailles, sprawling on 300 acres just outside Philadelphia,

110 rooms, 55 bedrooms, a ballroom designed to host a thousand guests.

There were art galleries, wine cellars, a swimming pool, of course.

The house had its own electrical plant and a farm, along with workshops and studios

for carpenters and upholsterers. Construction began in 1897 and was completed just two years later

for a cost of more than 300 million in today's dollars. The furnishings were opulent.

Antiques once owned by royalty, rare Persian carpets,

ancient ceramics from China,

and valuable artworks from all around the world

grace nearly every wall.

For all that, though,

this was a family home, a family marked by a near mythic tragedy.

Word has been received by the Widener family in Philadelphia from the White Star Line officials

that because of its condition, it had been found necessary to bury at sea the body of George D. Widener, a Titanic victim.

The news is a crushing blow to the Wideners.

And they got a small beam of light against the mirror.

One, zero, one. Weird. Stuff.

We know the story of the Titanic as much from the James Cameron movie now than from any actual historical account.

Maybe more, if we're honest.

We're sad that there wasn't room for the fictional jack on the fictional door that kept the fictional rose from slipping into the frigid waters of

the North Atlantic. In the movie, the Titanic story ends with Rose dropping an enormous jewel

...