Lifestyles of the Rich and the Famous

I was fascinated that with all the elaborate and intricate features of this massing home all Hearst could think to call it was “Big House” – Casa Grande.

There’s something interesting and disturbing, all the same, about Hearst Castle.  I was in awe over the architecture and the relics that reside on the expansive property.  With the simple name of Casa Grande, which doesn’t seem too original if not for the date of the historic build, the rather imposing structure of the home stands alone.

A eclectic collection of religious, particularly Catholic-based, paintings, tapestries, monk benches, elaborate ceilings, and stone carvings occupy the space in the grand rooms of the Castle.  It was William Randolph Hearst’s private collection, donated back to the state of California and its residents when financial woes became his reality.  Most of the artwork was from a particular period of time that Hearst was most fascinated with – thus the large amount of religious artifacts – because Hearst himself wasn’t big on religion.

These halls played host to the rich and the famous of the 1920’s and 30’s.  Charlie Chaplain.  Irving Berlin.  Movie and sports stars galore.

With such a rich history why does a place like this become a museum, or better yet, a mausoleum, a memory to that which has come and…gone?

Well… Money simply doesn’t last.

700 year old spanish monk seating – Used as ‘paneling’ for many of the grand rooms in the Hearst Castle.

Yet we still live like it does.

Does Hearst Castle exist to inspire us to do something similar?  Or is this Californian State Park  something through which we learn from past mistakes?

Either way, the State Park does serve a purpose.  It’s radically awesome to look at.

Close up or from a distance.

It sits high up on a grassy hillside hidden only from view when the spring-time fog off the Pacific veils her from view or during the drive up to the home as the driveway was designed to hide and reveal the castle over and over again.  The pathway is lined with cattle now, part of the Hearst Ranch that sits at the base of the estate.  However in previous years you’d see Zebra, some of which have become native to the surrounding area, giraffes, gazelle, and an assortment of other range animals popular to local zoos.

Believe it or not, that’s the Pacific ocean beneath all those clouds.

I can only imagine the view of the Pacific, deep blue and as vast as any body of water, would be spectacular to view from the various verandas embedded in a rainbow of colorful flowers.  This day wasn’t the case as that mist I mentioned earlier blanketed the entire ocean, making it look more like a soft downy-filled comforter across a king-sized bed.

Truth is this:  Things come and things go.  Memories fade with the passing of time.  History is only made when an event is published…or given, like the Hearst Castle.  Sure, when jolly old William became sick he could’ve stayed in his private Mount Olympus and withered away peacefully.  The entire estate could have simply been moth-balled or even bull-dozed…although, I’d hate to be that bulldozer driver riding that rig all the way to the top of this hill.  Yikes.

Hearst gave it back.  Whatever the amount he made off the folk that bought into his interests, he gave this piece of history back to them…and to their future generations.

As long as the estate went largely unaltered, the State of California Parks and Recreation service could have it.  Can you imagine the millions of people who have traipsed through the Hearst grounds?  Could you imagine, if William were still around, the smile on his face knowing these people enjoyed this place…even though they didn’t get to swim in either one of the pools.

The Neptune pool at Hearst Castle. Nice.

You’ve heard the saying you can’t take it with you.  You can’t.  So why not give a little piece of joy back to others?  I may not have much of an inheritance when I come to pass.  But I do want to give the world back something it can use.  A legacy of sorts.  I haven’t quite figured out what that is.  But according to my cardiologist I’ve got plenty of time.

Maybe I’ll leave behind a grand ool.  That’s a pool… just without any “p” in it.

Located out of general site, beneath the tennis courts, is the Roman Pool. Wow.