San Simeon Revisited

State parks are not primarily intended to pay their way; their earnings are measured in the pleasure and recreation they give their visitors. But one California park now comes close to accomplishing the unusual feat of turning a profit: the Medicean headquarters that Press Grandee William Randolph Hearst began erecting at San Simeon in 1922, and which had grown to over 100 rooms when he left it at the outbreak of World War II. To create his dream castle, Hearst spent more than $30 million just in furnishing "La Cuesta Encantada" (the Enchanted Hill), equipped it with a private stable and zoo, a garage with 25 limousines, and staffed it with as many as 60 servants at a time.

Yet for all its conglomerate splendors, San Simeon was considered a white elephant after Hearst died. The University of California politely refused it as a gift, and only reluctantly in 1957 did the state take it over as a park. Today, California's Department of Parks is bursting with pride. In less than a decade, the Enchanted Hill has brought in $6,163,182 from tourists eager to pay $2 each for the privilege of being ushered through its vaulted halls, past Roman baths, and into a billiard room hung with a Gobelin tapestry.

Seat of Empire. In its heyday, when Hearst was in residence, San Simeon's guards kept the curious miles at bay. Entrance then was by invitation only. Today, motorists are arriving from Los Angeles and San Francisco along winding, coastal Route 1 at the rate of 435,000 a year, and the crowds are growing. On Sunday, the waiting time for visitors can stretch out to three hours--but then Hearst used to keep his editors waiting for days before they were ushered into "the Chiefs" presence.

Ironically, what attracts the tourists is less the legend than the extravagant display. The name of Marion Davies, the good-natured ex-chorine who played hostess at San Simeon to a list of greats that included Winston Churchill, Calvin Coolidge, Bill Tilden and Garbo, is rarely mentioned. Hearst's private study, the seat from which he directed his empire, and the radio shack equipped with a radio-control tower and a complete switchboard through which he transmitted his orders, attract only passing interest. What delights the curiosity seekers are the same things that enthralled the Chief.

Fonder Memories. Top of the list for most camera-toting visitors is a version of the famous Brussels marble Manneken-Pis fountain statue and the spectacular 104-ft.-long Neptune Pool, kept a constant 70DEG while Hearst lived. The pool was last used as a set for Spartacus, and it required no added props. As laid out by Hearst's architect, Julia Morgan, it is surrounded by two Etruscan-style colonnades, backed by a Greco-Roman temple, and fronted by a marble Birth of Venus. Equally awe-inspiring is the 83-ft.-long assembly hall with an immense 16th century Italian carved-walnut ceiling and a 16th century French stone mantelpiece for which Hearst outbid even John D. Rockefeller. Another favorite is the 27-ft.-high refectory, a monastic dining hall, lined with cathedral choir stalls and hung with 22 Sienese banners.

"We grew up in a museum," William Randolph Hearst Jr. recently recalled. Marion Davies had fonder memories: "Oh, it was gay, let me tell you! Guests all the time--hundreds of them. I remember we used to throw pebbles at the lions." Lady Bird Johnson, who stayed there during her recent West Coast tour, enjoyed the Hearstian barbecue that Governor Pat Brown threw for her, along with 450 other guests. But would she like living at San Simeon? "Too grand," responded the First Lady. With the servant problem the way it is, San Simeon is too much. But then that, too, is part of the enchantment.

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