America’s aristocracy traces its lineage to a time between the end of the Civil War and the dawn of the twentieth century, in the Gilded Age. Think Andrew Carnegie, J. P. Morgan, Cornelius Vanderbilt. Robber barons built obscene fortunes, monopolies lined the pockets of corrupt politicians, and unchecked capitalism opened a permanent chasm between the very rich and everyone else. The upper crust loved to throw opulent balls and banquets, which allowed hosts to show off their money, power, and influence, and prominent socialites kept so-called visiting lists of well-connected friends, acquaintances, and business contacts.
Louis Keller was not part of the new aristocracy, but he recognized a business opportunity in these quasi-private lists. He collected them, consolidated them, and produced a master copy of high society, selling it only to those who’d made the cut. First published in 1886, the Social Register was a thin, elegantly bound book with pumpkin-colored lettering on a black background. When later editions featured a blue cover, it became known as the Blue Book.
The first edition drew exclusively from the social lists of people with homes in Newport, Rhode Island, a favorite vacation destination of the elite. In time there were Blue Books for almost every major U.S. city. A group called the Social Register Association became the gatekeeper of the Blue Book, and it created strict rules for new entries. A person could be listed because of marriage to someone already included in the book, if they were elected president of the United States, or if they were nominated by an existing member. For many years, the Social Register was classist as well as anti-Semitic and racist; excluded Jewish society members in Chicago created their own version of the Blue Book in 1918, and the Social Register did not include a Black member for nearly a century after its creation.
In 1976, the city books were consolidated into a single volume covering high society nationwide. It listed approximately 50,000 names. By the 1980s, being in the book still had low-key cultural cachet, particularly for direct descendants of Gilded Age gentry. Members could flip through the Social Register’s pages to learn the essentials about each other. What school did so-and-so attend? What yacht club did they belong to? Were they related to someone on the Mayflower? And, for the purposes of correspondence, what was their address and telephone number?