Uncle John’s Supremely Satisfying Bathroom Reader® (82 page)

Hearst’s peculiar quirks as host added to the discomfort. He didn’t believe in serving his guests breakfast in bed, or even bringing them coffee. There were no kitchens in the guest houses, so anyone who wanted something to eat had to get dressed and come to Casa Grande.

The cocktail hour before dinner was another oddity. It could last as long as two hours or more, but Hearst served only one cocktail to each guest (two if you arrived early, drank quickly, and got lucky). Anyone caught smuggling their own liquor into San Simeon soon found their bags packed and set next to the car that was waiting to take them away.

Rationing his booze may have come back to haunt Hearst in ways he could never have imagined: one of his most ungrateful guests was a hard-drinking writer named Herman Mankiewicz, who went on to co-write the screenplay for
Citizen Kane,
a film about a “fictional” newspaper baron who lives in an enormous castle called Xanadu, an obvious blast at Hearst (see
page 355
).

Hearst was one of the wealthiest men in the country, but the Great Depression finally caught up with him in 1936; he found himself more than $100 million in debt at a time when newspaper circulation and advertising revenues were sharply off. At 74, he lost control of his business empire and was forced to sell off real estate, newspapers, and half of his art collection. He managed to hang on to San Simeon, but only by agreeing to halt construction and paying “rent” to his creditors until his financial situation improved.

Democrats are more likely to own a cat than Republicans are.

Hearst finally regained control in 1945 when he was 82, and immediately resumed construction at San Simeon. But Hearst’s health was deteriorating, and in 1947 he was forced to move to Los Angeles to be closer to his doctors. He never returned to his castle, and died in August 1951 at the age of 88.

The Hearst Corporation directors were not nearly as infatuated with San Simeon as Hearst had been—they wanted to get rid of it. But nobody would buy it, because nobody could afford it.

The company offered it to the University of California free of charge…but the university refused to accept the “gift” unless it was accompanied by a huge endowment to cover operating costs. Finally in 1958, the corporation donated the buildings and the surrounding land to the State of California, which now operates it as a tourist attraction.

William Randolph Hearst spent so much money so quickly over so many years that it’s difficult to calculate just how much he spent building and furnishing San Simeon.
The Guinness Book of World Records
estimates that he spent as much as $30 million (or $277 million in 2001 dollars). By contrast, Microsoft founder Bill Gates’s mansion cost only $60 million.

That makes Hearst Castle easily the most expensive private residence ever built…and it’s still unfinished.

“I do not seek, I find.”

—Picasso

Survey says: most adults believe we will make ”first contact” with alien life by the year 2100.

Here at the BR1, we’re huge fans of Richard Zacks’ books. They’re great bathroom reading. He has a new book coming out: The Pirate Hunter—The True Story of Captain Kidd. Here’s a teaser from his masterpiece,
An Underground Education

While the popular image of buccaneers is peg-legged, eye-patched rascals, the ultimate anti-authority free agents, roving the seas, plundering ships, raping women, and brawling, the reality is much worse. They did all that
and
worked for the government.

Prior to 1856, it was standard operating procedure for western nations either to commission privateers directly or to wink at the actions of freelance pirates, so long as those thieves were preying on the commerce of other nations. Piracy was often state-supported economic terrorism. Captain Kidd, for example, was no Joan of Arc, but he was no “Captain Kidd,” either.

William Kidd (c. 1645–1701) was a plain-speaking, high-tempered Scotsman who had made his fortune as captain and ship owner, trading goods in the colonies. In 1696, the 51-year-old Kidd was a prosperous New York businessman, comfortably settled with his wife and family. That year, Kidd and his friend Robert Livingston connived with the newly appointed governor of New England, Richard Coote, Earl of Bellamont, the King of England’s cousin, to receive an unusual privateering commission.

In times of war, wealthy investors routinely funded privateering vessels to attack the enemy’s merchant ships and divvy the plunder. This was an English naval tradition dating back to Sir Frances Drake. But what was extraordinary about this commission was that it also entitled Kidd to attack pirate ships of all nationalities and keep their booty—no questions asked. It was an amazing financial opportunity.

Johanne Relleke of Rhodesia was stung by bees 2,443 times on January 28, 1962. He survived.

Kidd’s royal commission—secured by Bellamont—did, in fact,

give and grant full Power and Authority to Captain William Kidd, Commander of the ship Adventure Galley…to apprehend, seize and take into Custody the said Thomas Too, John Ireland, Tho Wake, and William Maze, and all other Pirates, Free-booters and Sea-Rovers, of what Nation whatsoever, whom he should find or meet with, upon the said Coasts or Seas of America, or in any other Seas or Parts, with their Ships and Vessels, and all such Merchandize, Money, Goods, and Wares as should be found on board of them.

The mission began as an attempt by Britain to crack down on four colonial pirates, but was cunningly expanded so that Kidd would have maximum leeway to capture “prizes”—non-English ships.

In addition to Livingston and Lord Richard, four of the most powerful men in England secretly invested the £6,000 it would cost to outfit the ship. The prospect of profits from this legal larceny was dizzying. If Kidd captured two large ships, the backers could easily receive a hundredfold return on that investment in a year. In the official contract with Kidd, four obscure merchants were listed as the investors, but they were shills. The real backers were John Somers, Lord Chancellor of England; Sir Robert Wadpole, Earl of Orford, First Lord of the Admiralty; and two secretaries of state, the Earl of Romney and the Duke of Shrewsbury. The king was to receive 10% of the booty as well, “chiefly to show that he was a partner in the undertaking,” according to
The Real Captain Kidd
— A
Vindication,
by Sir Cornelius Dalton. Kidd and Livingston stood to receive 7.5% each, while if the haul totaled more than £100,000, Kidd was to be allowed to keep the ship.

The mission got off to a bad start in March 1696; Kidd and a London merchant handpicked 100-plus English sailors for the
Adventure Galley,
but before they departed the coast, a British man-of-war seized the bulk of his crew. Now, Kidd sailed to New York to round up a new crew, but his articles allowed him to offer the crew shares of only a quarter of the spoils (instead of the usual half) and there would be no regular wages; the voyage would be strictly “no purchase, no pay,” or in sailor slang, “no prey, no pay.”

Tombstones were originally put over graves so that the dead could not escape.

Kidd was forced to sign the piratical scum of the New York wharf, out-of-work scallywags. Once out of the harbor, he had no luck whatsoever at finding pirate ships, and headed to the Indian Ocean. He was fired upon, but when he captured the vessel, it turned out to be a Dutch ship. His crew—led by gunner William Moore—voted to take her as a prize anyhow, but Kidd, pistols in hand, changed their mind. Kidd then spied a merchant ship and swung into action. Employing a standard battle tactic, he flew French colors to trick his adversary and lured the giant
Quedagh Merchant
to come alongside. When an officer of that ship boarded, holding French papers of clear passage, Kidd hoisted the British flag and declared the ship captured. Although the
Quedagh Merchant
was clearly an Armenian ship with a crew of Moors and a few Christians aboard, the officer presented French papers, which made it a legitimate prize, given the state of war at the time between England and France. And it was a rich prize. The
Quedagh
Merchant was packed with fine cloths, silks, and jewels, worth perhaps as much as £400,000.

Kidd who had taken another ship traveling with French papers, hauled his prizes back to Ste.-Marie, in Madagascar. His articles stated that he must take the captured ships back to Boston (or to London, if armed British escort appeared) so that an Admiralty Court could rule on whether they were legitimate captures and could document the spoils.

In Madagascar stood the
Moca Frigate,
a former merchant ship turned pirate by a man named Robert Culliford. When Kidd (with his mounted cannon) hit port, his pirates abandoned ship. Kidd had proposed that they capture the Moca as well, but instead, his men swore they’d shoot him if he tried. Ninety-seven of them mutinied over to Culliford and promptly attacked Kidd.

Receiving no wages with Kidd, the most the men could hope for was a share of one-quarter of the spoils,
if
an admiralty court ruled in their favor in Boston; with Culliford, they might split up everything, and right away. Here’s how Kidd described what happened next:

Winning bid for “Nothing at all. Wanna buy it?” auctioned on eBay: $22.04.

The said Deserters came on board, and carried away Guns, Powder, Shot, small Arms, Sails, Anchors, Cables, Surgeon’s Chests, and what else they pleased; and threatened several times to murder the Narrator [i.e., Kidd]. Their Wickedness was so great, after they had plundered and ransacked sufficiently, [they] went Four Miles off to one Edward Weiche’s House, which his the Narrator’s chest was lodged, and broke it open; and took out Ten Ounces of Gold, 40 Pound of Plate, 370 Pieces of Eight, the Narrator’s Journal, and a great many Papers that belonged to him, and the People of New York that fitted them out.

Kidd was left with 13 sailors; his original ship was leaking badly (requiring 8-man shifts to bail her out); and his prize was far too big to sail with his reduced crew. The date was early in 1699.

Kidd was two years past his contracted return date, and no doubt his powerful backers were getting nervous. And now the East India Company reported in London that “they had received some information… that Kidd had committed several acts of piracy, particularly in seizing a Moorish ship called the
Quedagh Merchant.”

The vastly profitable East India Company had no desire to enrage the great mogul of India by allowing British pirates to prey upon Moorish ships, especially since the great mogul, a now-forgotten potentate, then controlled an enormous empire and could expel the Brits.

With a single order, Kidd was officially declared a pirate.

Captain Kidd spent six long months in Madagascar trying to round up a crew, then headed for Boston. When Kidd and his skeleton crew finally reached Anguilla in the West Indies and found out they were wanted for piracy, they were dumbfounded. Once again the crew started deserting. Kidd no longer had sailors enough to sail his prize to Boston, so he traded for a smaller ship complete with crew and moved an undisclosed portion of the remaining booty aboard. (How much booty has intrigued treasure hunters ever since.)

Kidd could have stayed in the Caribbean a very wealthy man. At least £10,000 of treasure remained and possibly as much as £40,000 or even more. Instead he sailed north. In New York Harbor, he handed over the two French passes (which would clear him of the piracy charges) to an old friend to deliver to his backer, New England governor Coote, who was then in Boston.

BRI
Greatest Fear poll results: 1) heights, 2) snakes, 3) spiders, 4) public speaking.

Coote (as you remember, cousin to the king of England) sent the postmaster of Boston out to Block Island to give a message to Kidd. The note declared the governor was sympathetic to Kidd’s version of the events and then concluded:

I
make no manner of doubt but to obtain the King’s pardon for you, and for those few men you have left who I understand have been faithful to you, and refused as well as you to dishonour the Commission you have from England.…I assure you on my Word and Honour I will perform nicely what I have promised.