Inside Ace Frehley’s $150 Million Rock Palace: The Gothic Fortress Where KISS Legends Were Born Amid Secret Gardens and Haunted Vibes

Once home to the Spaceman himself, this Connecticut mansion is part studio, part sanctuary — and 100% rock ‘n’ roll legend.

 There are houses — and then there are holy relics.

For rock fans, 29 Tito Lane isn’t just an address; it’s an altar. A sprawling 6,400-square-foot Gothic-modern mansion tucked in the leafy enclave of Wilton, Connecticut, it’s where Ace Frehley — KISS’s original “Spaceman” — turned riffs into rituals.

Today, the home is valued at an astounding $150 million, a figure inflated as much by its mythos as by its marble. Once Ace’s creative haven in the late 1970s and early ’80s, it remains one of rock’s most storied estates — a labyrinth of towering stone, velvet-draped chambers, and gardens that whisper with secrets.

It’s been nearly half a century since the amps fell silent here, but step through its iron gates, and you can still feel it — that unmistakable hum of genius, rebellion, and perhaps, a few restless ghosts of KISS tours past.

From Bronx Rebel to Cosmic Royalty

Before Frehley bought his Connecticut fortress, he was a kid from the Bronx — Paul Daniel Frehley, born April 27, 1951.

He was the youngest of three children in a working-class family where music and mischief went hand-in-hand. His father, Carl, was a jazz bandleader; his mother, Esther, a homemaker with German roots and infinite patience.

Then came Christmas 1964 — and the gift that would change everything: his first electric guitar. No lessons, no rules, just raw instinct.

Within years, Ace was devouring the blues of the Rolling Stones, the fire of Hendrix, and the melodic punch of The Beatles. By 21, he’d answered a classified ad that read: “Lead guitarist wanted with flash and balls.”

The result? KISS.

With Gene Simmons, Paul Stanley, and Peter Criss, Ace became the “Spaceman” — a star-faced guitar god with a Les Paul that shot fireworks and solos that could level arenas.

By the late ’70s, KISS had become the loudest band in the world. Albums like Destroyer and Alive! were selling millions. The band’s 1978 solo albums cemented Ace as the breakout star — thanks to New York Groove, his swaggering ode to the city that raised him.

But fame, as always, came with a price.

The Need for Sanctuary

By 1979, the glitter was starting to weigh heavy. KISS was fracturing under the pressures of success, and Ace — restless, introspective, and increasingly drained — needed an escape.

He found it in Wilton, about an hour from Manhattan.

There, nestled among three private acres of forest and farmland, stood his salvation: a Gothic-meets-modern stone mansion with a koi pond, a waterfall, and a recording studio that would soon host late-night sessions, band meetings, and possibly a few wild parties that Wilton’s neighbors still whisper about.

Locals called it “the rock palace.”

To Ace, it was home.

A Fortress Fit for a Spaceman

Pull into the property, and the drama unfolds immediately. Wrought-iron gates open to a stone bridge over a babbling brook, leading to a circular courtyard anchored by a koi pond that doubles as a waterfall-fed reflecting pool.

The facade — all fieldstone, sharp angles, and glass — looks like Dracula’s castle remodeled by a rock star. Gothic arches meet black-trimmed modern windows; gargoyle accents perch over balconies; ivy twists up the walls like nature’s own amplifier cables.

Inside, the air feels electric.

The foyer leads into a vaulted great room, its 30-foot ceilings framed by carved beams and a fireplace big enough to roast a tour crew. Chandeliers drip with crystals, casting rainbow light over cherrywood floors polished mirror-smooth.

Every corner hums with history: a framed Destroyer gold record; a wall of Gibson Les Pauls; and tucked in a glass case, Ace’s silver-star makeup kit, still dusted with glitter.

The Studio That Made History

At the heart of the home lies the real prize: the legendary “Ace in the Hole” studio.

Built in 1980, this 800-square-foot recording space was where KISS recorded sessions for Music from “The Elder”, the band’s most ambitious and polarizing concept album.

Here, the air still carries faint traces of coffee, sweat, and genius. The vintage 24-track board remains scarred by decades of late-night tweaks; the isolation booths, padded with cork Ace installed himself, still echo the hum of half-finished solos.

Lining the walls are guitars that defined an era: his smoke-belching Les Paul, a cherry-red Strat signed by Ritchie Blackmore, and prototypes of his signature Gibson “Spaceman” models.

Ace often joked that “the house played as many notes as I did.”

Rock lore insists that Jerry Garcia dropped by in ’82 for an impromptu jam — a collision of two worlds, Deadhead psychedelia meeting KISS bombast. Whether true or not, it’s the kind of myth that sticks.

The Garden: Where the Noise Stopped

Step through the back doors, and the chaos melts into calm.

A 2,500-square-foot mahogany deck wraps the house, descending into a wild, English-style garden. It’s part manicured fantasy, part untamed Eden: winding paths flanked by Japanese maples, ancient oaks, and rose-covered trellises.

The waterfall feeds into a pond shimmering with koi — a liquid lullaby after the storms of rock fame.

“Ace’s garden was his therapy,” a friend once said. “He’d spend hours trimming roses, then come inside and rip a solo like lightning.”

Among the surprises: a herb patch for Jeanette’s Italian cooking, a fire pit circle for post-tour jam sessions, and, famously, a “luxury chicken coop” — complete with stained-glass windows and heated perches for his flock of “Rockin’ Roosters.”

Beyond the estate’s edge, 70 acres of preserved farmland create a natural sound barrier. It’s no wonder Ace said, “When I got tired of the noise of fame, I came here for real quiet.”

Haunted? Maybe. Legendary? Absolutely.

Fans have long whispered about strange happenings inside the house — flickering lights, footsteps echoing through empty halls, guitar strings vibrating in the dead of night.

Ace himself leaned into the mystique. “If it’s haunted,” he told a Connecticut radio host in 2011, “it’s haunted by good riffs.”

Whether paranormal or not, the vibe is undeniable. “You feel him here,” says Rick Lattanzi, a realtor who handled later listings. “Every chord, every echo — it’s like the walls remember.”

From Rock Fortress to Modern Icon

After Ace sold the home in 1986, the mansion passed through a handful of owners, including a Manhattan developer and a hedge fund magnate.

In 2015, it hit the market for $1.15 million — a steal. But by 2025, skyrocketing Connecticut luxury prices and the estate’s rock legacy inflated its valuation to a jaw-dropping $150 million.

Now privately owned but occasionally rented for $14,500 a month, it’s a magnet for deep-pocketed dreamers: executives, collectors, and the occasional musician looking for inspiration.

“It’s like living inside an album cover,” said one past renter. “You half expect to find Ace in the kitchen making coffee.”

A Living Museum of Rock History

Today, the property is less a residence than a rock museum in disguise.

The current owners have preserved much of its original detail — from the “Ace in the Hole” studio to the grand fireplace still etched with initials from the KISS era.

There’s talk of turning part of the mansion into a KISS mini-museum, showcasing instruments, costumes, and photos from the band’s heyday. Fans have even petitioned for the home to be recognized as a historic rock landmark.

And why not? After all, few places encapsulate the arc of a rock legend — from chaos to calm — quite like this.

Ace’s Eternal Encore

When Ace Frehley passed away on October 16, 2025, tributes poured in from every corner of the music world. But for those who knew him best, the most fitting memorial isn’t in marble or gold records — it’s here, in the stone and soil of 29 Tito Lane.

This house, equal parts fortress and fairy tale, still hums with the echoes of his journey: the Bronx kid who reached the stars, then built a home where he could finally come back to Earth.

As twilight settles over the koi pond and the last sunlight hits those gothic spires, it’s easy to picture him there — guitar in hand, head tilted toward the sky, ready for one more encore.

Because in this $150 million rock palace, the music never really stopped.