And then, of course, there was the castle.

A veritable embodiment of the sphinx of a character he was, the immense complex of buildings is also a vault of invaluable treasures—cultural, historical, and whimsical. Built by a 25 year-long partnership of architectural passion and obsession between Hearst and revered female architect Julia Morgan, the castle features 165 rooms, two pools, a tennis court, an air landing strip, one of the largest private zoos, and many more flourishes of design and luxury (even in its incomplete state), and is a monument to uncompromising artistic vision—and (almost) endless means. With all the grandeur of European villas and ancient cathedrals (and featuring actual art and antiquities from many of those), the estate yet contains all the convenience, contrivance, and individualism of a true golden state frontiersman’s “ranch,” as Hearst liked to call it. Fields notes such practical and convenient measures as reinforced concrete and the 61 bathrooms (many with “cutting edge” showers) and says, “Hearst and Morgan combined the practical with the aesthetically pleasing.” The result was a spectacular blend of past and present, of functional and extravagant, that endowed the landscape with a before inexistent sense of history and consequence while also allowing visitors to escape from the predictable and mundane into a golden, Hearstian dream.

It was an extraordinary setting worthy of extraordinary people—and Hearst wasted no time in providing the perfect audience for his surreal escape. The scene of some of the most high-class, high-society elbow-rubbing our state has ever known, Hearst’s home and museum-in-the-making soon became a real-life movie set for a reality show like none we know today. In the 1920s and 1930s, an invitation to San Simeon became a sign of social status; stars, financiers, and politicos were whisked away to the then remote hills by private limo or train (outfitted with a live band, food, and other mingling socialites). Upon arrival, their every expectation was exceeded, spending hours lounging in regal beds and couches, watching movies in the private theatre, and riding horses on his grand 250,000-acre coastal estate.

In those glittering golden years—the days when Charlie Chaplin, Greta Garbo, Clark Gable and other beautiful people blended with the classic sculptures, dramatic architecture, and breathtaking landscape—Hearst achieved a true masterpiece of California culture. As Frances Marion said, “We all looked upon [San Simeon] with a feeling akin to awe because it was a monument to a man’s dream, there being nothing about the home that seemed real except the humans, who spent most of their time destroying the illusion by their human behavior” (Kastner, 128). Hearst himself seemed to find joy in his guests’ awe; you can almost hear his proud smile as he tells Julia Morgan, “All those wild movie people … were immensely appreciative. They said it was the most wonderful place in the world and that the most extravagant dream of a moving picture set fell far short of this reality” (Kastner, 107).

Of course, the playground of the stars attracted all kinds of attention—and plenty of criticism trying to burst the Hearst bubble. But, while his contemporaries and critics remember him as many things—some as a corrupt journalist, a spoiled child, or an unrepentant promoter—you can’t help but admire the man for so heedlessly, proudly, and completely living his life by his terms, even in the face of scathing social reproach. It is as if he was able to see a greater scheme, on a grander scale than his contemporaries—he was, you might say, larger than life. In spite of skepticism, his art collection, once seen as undiscerning, is now lauded (an exhibition at LACMA in October presents Hearst the Collector) and his trivialized affair with a movie star lasted over 30 years, even when his health and finance failed him. As for Xanadu, Orson Welles’ garish depiction of Hearst Castle in the film Citizen Kane, it has proven an incredibly worthy and visionary endeavor.

Like the ancient Egyptian and Roman rulers, Hearst built more than a mere manor of momentary delights—he built a monument, at once to his own legacy, for the elevation of the region he loved and believed in, and for the enjoyment, puzzlement, and wonder of thousands who followed him. “It’s not just brick and mortar,” Friends of Hearst Castle Director Carol Schreiber says. “It’s a passion, it’s a dream, it’s a fantasy, it’s not reality a lot. But it is such a wonderful experience and it speaks at different levels to different people. Some are turned on by Hollywood, some by history, some by Hearst himself, some by the art—but it has a universal language of interest. It sends a message beyond the castle walls that art needs to be conserved, that our history is our legacy—and certainly, Hearst Castle is California’s legacy for generations to come.”

Over 39 million people have visited what is now a state historical monument, enticed
by a great many things, but mostly by something intangible and undeniable—something human. This is one story, one history, whose walls we can touch, whose marble floors and stained glass windows, woven tapestries, and handmade tiles contain in their rich textures and details the fabric of a California dream and the fingerprint of a dreamer—a neighbor and forefather—that we can experience in its glory again and again.

We can’t help but respect the man who brought so much style and intrigue to our region, and therefore we abide by his wishes and see his world as he would have wanted it remembered—if not down on earth, at least up on his hill. We recommend you do the same as you traipse through his kingdom: Suspend disbelief, suspend criticism, and enjoy the Golden Age of Hearst.