Monthly Archives: June 2012

60 years

Bio, Photographs

A sad demise.

The only thing I have in common with the Queen is that my time on this earth closely coincides with hers on the throne. Britain celebrates its Queen today, with displays of bunting and small craft on the Thames as have not been seen since the US won the last world war.

During that time Britain has destroyed what was left of her magnificent industrial heritage, forgotten what Englishness is all about by virtue of a seemingly non-existent immigration policy, and sold whatever was left to foreigners. Thus, somewhat comically, what lucre is to be made from the upcoming London Olympics will largely end up in the Swiss coffers of tax avoiding American global enterprises. You know, people like Kraft and its newly American Cadbury’s, whose unspoken goal is to kill as many of its consumers with its junk food products as nature allows. Think of it as the Tobacco Lobby business model.

What prompts these thoughts was a question from a very English friend asking whether I was watching the Jubilee celebrations on TV. “Well, not exactly, dear” I responded, “you see, America is a republic”.

After a carefully crafted British education, complete with public schooling by pederast Catholic monks and a proper degree from a proper university, I was all set to join Rolls Royce aircraft to help make better engines when RR went bust, taking Lockheed with it. Bother. Scouting around I found a job with a multinational in finance (where the numbers bit was child’s play compared to fluid dynamics) and, inevitably, started working with and for Americans. Now this was a greatly distasteful experience. That same schooling on which I prided myself had carefully inculcated a deep xenophobia directed at all things American. Yanks, you understand, were still regarded as “Over loud, over sexed and over here” as the pointed epithet aimed at Britain’s savior Eisenhower had it a few years earlier. But as one trained in analytical ways I stood back, observed and shortly thereafter …. emigrated. Rarely has a decision been so easy to make on grounds of sheer obviousness.

Meanwhile, since that November day in 1977 which saw me leave, Britain has continued to sink. Its serial theft of centuries past, known euphemistically as ‘The Colonies’, came to a rapid end, though the English always had a reason until then to pillage, plunder, rape and steal, for as the toast in the Officers’ Mess had it: “Gentlemen, the Queen!”. Now they still have the Queen but little to toast.

Still, it doesn’t take a computer to figure out that Mrs. Windsor is one heck of a good deal for a nation that has little left to sell. Sure, she’s a poorly educated philistine with awful taste in dogs. However, receiving a modest stipend from the taxpayer and paying substantial taxes on her investment income, she costs little or nothing in upkeep. As for all the tales of her wealth, they are meaningless. She can no more sell Buckingham Palace and its stolen Leonardos than the US taxpayer can sell the White House. It has zero value, as do her other residences as they cannot be transacted. In exchange, she fills the Treasury’s coffers mightily with tourist dollars, at least those dollars as are left after Kraft et al have kept theirs.

So happy Jubilee Your Majesty.

Nothing to wave the flag for. Hyde Park, 1977, right before I left.
Leica M3, 35mm Summaron, TriX.

Filoli

Photographs

Fight, love, live.

It’s common to hear reference to the robber barons of the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries and the vast fortunes they made on the back of the working man. Carnegie, Frick, Ford, Rockefeller, Westinghouse, Edison, Goodyear, Firestone, you name it, universal opprobrium is the order of the day from those less successful. What such critics conveniently miss, in their populist analysis, is that the efforts of these men created the middle class of today and most of America’s wealth and success. Without Carnegie or Ford there would have been no American industrial might and all of Europe would be speaking German.

One early twentieth century capitalist, less known but no less successful, was William Bowers Bourn II (1857-1936) who garnered three great fortunes during his long and productive life. Starting with a small one from his father he vastly expanded the family’s gold mining capabilities, then went on to found the precursor of Pacific Gas and Electric (whose power makes this column possible) and the Spring Valley Water Company whose modern successors provide the drinking water for the Bay Area.

But Bourn’s most famous legacy is his Woodside, CA country home, Filoli, now a National Trust Property open for all to visit and enjoy, and it was with the continuing goal of inculcating the meaning of capitalism and philanthropy in his psyche that I took our son Winston there today to see what great wealth can do. At 36,000 square feet with 16 acres of gardens along the Louis XIV model, and set in 650 acres of pristine California real estate, this is not your average country home and Winston needs to understand that something along these lines is in his grasp if only he has the desire to reach for it. Plus he needs to understand that his father does not believe in inherited wealth. He has to make his own.

The large driveway makes for an inviting entrance.

No rain in sight. The driveway. 24mm.

As we approached the mansion’s surprisingly modest front entrance – a single door – Winston gasped and expostulated “Dad, I want to live here.” I like this boy.

The future Winston Carrington. Click the picture for the map. 24mm.

The Ballroom. 24mm.

Filoli gained worldwide fame – OK, Western Hemisphere fame – when it was used as the home of the paterfamilias oil baron, Blake Carrington, in the TV soap opera ‘Dynasty’. Ostensibly set in Denver, the Carrington Mansion was home to Blake (splendidly acted by John Forsythe, whose career goes way back to Hitchcock), his son-in-law Jeff Colby (John James in a warm characterization) and any number of women seeking to part Blake from his hard earned fortune. Blake and Jeff, both the very personification of decency, honor and the work ethic, managed to keep body and soul together over some 200+ episodes and much derring-do from the evil set. The show was best known for its opulent displays of wealth, never better shown than in the multiple couture outfits sported by Blake’s ex-wife and all around Lucretia Borgia, splendidly portrayed by British actress Joan Collins, who just happens to be – in Cecil Beaton’s words – one of the most beautiful women on earth. Her much married Alexis Carrington-Colby-Dexter made the show huge. The spice she added to the whole thing made Collins one of the highest paid TV actresses and propelled the show to the #1 spot for most of the 1980s.

Here’s the library, in American black walnut, where Blake staved off any number of evil schemes to part him from his capital. It’s a room suffused with masculinity and power, and quite my favorite:

Views of the library, 24, 24 and 50mm. There are many model ships throughout the home.

The butler’s pantry comes complete with a safe for the pricier silverware, but who the potential thief would be rather defeats me. The servants would be caught red-handed the moment they hit the pawnbrokers, so I can only think Bourn was worrying about his guests pinching the stuff.

Safe in the Butler’s pantry. 24mm.

The kitchen is what you would expect in a 36,000 square foot home:

Kitchen. 24mm. Oh! yes, oh! yes. Honorable Indian gentleman, he cook the curry here, no?

The rear balcony is seen in the opening aerial shots in the TV series:

No bricks spared. Rear view. 24mm.

For many the formal gardens are the primary reason for a visit.

Plaque honoring the gardener – and second and last owner – who spent 35 years here. 105mm.

The main lily pond. 24mm.

A visitor enjoys a perfect day at Filoli. 105mm.

Light to die for in the formal gardens.

Time began in a garden. The sundial.

How much are you asking for this place, then?

What with Winston’s earnest desire to live here, we got to doing some figuring of capital and running costs to buy and own the joint. Now this is a National Trust property, meaning it ostensibly belongs to the people of the United States, so we decided that capital cost would have two components. Land and buildings plus grease. Grease being what’s needed to smooth the gears of power to prise this little gem away from the voters plus some good PR to fool the little old ladies who so love the flowers. As is always the case, a little grease goes a long way. Politicians are cheap, or they would have real jobs. One dictate would be that, once acquired, no more visitors would be allowed as, like the clutching acquisitive capitalists we are, sharing posthumously is fine, but a no-no before we are scattered to the winds.

So here are the economics:

  • Land – 650 acres at $250,000 per acre =$163 mm
  • Building – 36,000 sf @ $1,200/sf = $43mm
  • Contents – say $10mm
  • Total land and buildings = $216mm
  • Federal grease – Presidential party in power – re-election fund – $25mm
  • State grease – CA Governor election contribution – $5mm
  • Massive PR effort to convince the voters they don’t need this gravestone around their fiscal necks – $50mm
  • Total grease = $80mm
  • Grand total capital cost = $296mm, call it $300mm.

OK, so now we have the title-deed in out hot little hands, what does it cost to run?

  • Annual property taxes and insurance @ 1.5% = $5mm
  • 40 gardeners @ $50k all in = $2mm
  • Security personnel to keep the unwashed away = $5mm
  • Staff – 30 @ $70k each, including majordomo = $2mm.
  • Maintenance say $5mm
  • Opportunity cost – earnings lost on capital cost @ 7% on $300mm = $21mm
  • Total annual operating cost = $40mm.

Hmm. Not half bad. Winston needs to start that hedge fund real soon.

Meanwhile, before Winnie snaps it up, a visit to Filoli is recommended.

Filoli in the movies:

Everyone knows about Dynasty, of course, even if only the first season of that soap opera was actually filmed at Filoli. The rest were made in a studio set. But for the ultimate Filoli movie, one which shares its beauty and grace, be sure to check out Heaven Can Wait, a movie in which lovely Filoli is rarely off the screen and is done royal justice by the acting talents of Julie Christie and Warren Beatty.

Hayes Street Grill

Dining

Fine dining.

As this peripatetic photographer is wont to do, I determined to try one of the finer restaurants in Hayes Valley on yesterday’s outing.

Click the picture for the map.

While it’s been around over thirty years, the Hayes Street Grill dates from more modest days when Hayes Valley was an open crack house and prostitution center, a far cry from today with its chic boutiques and upmarket restaurants. Close to the Performing Arts Center, it’s no surprise that this now rather fancy restaurant has autographed photographs of famous musicians lining the walls of its clean and simple interior. This is white tablecloth and proper utensil dining, so dressing down will not get you the best service. I sat next to a couple of classical music impresarios and we had a nice chat, as they were much taken with the D700. Fans of rock should go elsewhere. There is no Musak and the tone is overall hushed and successful.

Lunch. Click the picture for the menu.

The soft shell crab ‘BLT’, coleslaw, fries and beer came to $33 with tip. A delicious meal. Not cheap, but in keeping with the general environment of what is now a lovely neighborhood. What, you ask, caused this wild, profligate burst of spending for this cheapskate, for whom lunch usually means significant change from $20? Simple. The mess in Europe has made making money in the markets very easy, and that’s my day job. All I ask is firm direction – up or down makes no difference – and the politicos mismanaging the mess that is Europe have made direction very clear. Thank you, Bundesbank.