Palm Springs is also proud of its main street, Palm Canyon Drive, which is a serious contender with North Rodeo Drive for the title of “World’s Most Elegant Shopping Street.” But the sight that visitors to Palm Springs are most often taken to see is Blue Skies Village. The development was originally backed by the late Bing Crosby, along with such investors as Jack Benny, Claudette Colbert, William Goetz, Phil Harris, and William Perlberg, and it can only be described as the mobile-home park to end all mobile-home parks or, as the chamber of commerce puts it, “The World’s Most Sumptuous Mobile Home Park.” The original scheme was to lease trailer space, to which the lessor would add a trailer and would also spend at least $7500 on “improvements.” This modest commitment, far from discouraging the original tenants of Blue Skies Village, spurred them on to greater, more competitive spending. In one eight-month period Blue Skies trailer owners spent a total of $750,000 on terraces, porches, gazebos, cupolas, ramadas (a superstructure covering an entire trailer), and other adornments. Several Blue Skies residents went off, unaccountably, on Oriental flights of fancy and enclosed their trailers in strange pagodas. One man, in an Egyptian mood, surmounted his trailer with a replica of the Great Portal of the Temple of Karnak, complete with exterior friezes and frescoes.
Mr. Richard E. Bishop, a retired president of a chemical company, spent “in the six figures” turning his 55-by-18-foot trailer into a facsimile of Mount Vernon. “I’m not quite sure how we got started on Mount Vernon,” he said at the time, “but we put on the big porch across the front with the white columns, and one thing sort of led to another.” For good measure, though the original Mount Vernon didn’t have one, the Bishops’ version was given a rooftop sun deck. The Bishops’ maid was then given a separate, smaller mobile version of Mount Vernon alongside. Because they require less care—in fact no care at all—plastic flowers and shrubbery were set out for landscaping, and a number of other Blue Skies residents quickly copied this clever idea.
“People in other trailer parks around here call us ‘the Blue Skies snobs,’” one trailer owner says, “and frankly, we’re proud of that label. We’re the richest mobile-home community in America. Almost all of us are corporation presidents. We’re also a more international group than you’ll find in other parks, and we’re more social too. We hire professional entertainers for our shindigs. We have fifty-dollar-a-plate-dinners. We have cocktail parties. And, sure, we’re exclusive. We’re like a private club. No Tom, Dick, or Harry can move into this place. We want nice people living here. We check on everybody. We even find out if they snore.”
Though Palm Springs is a mid-twentieth-century creation, it did for a while have an old guard. It consisted of exactly one woman, Mrs. Austin McManus, and even she was not a native. Still, Mrs. McManus, who was known throughout the Coachella Valley as Auntie Pearl, was for many years easily the First Lady of Palm Springs. She was a cheerful-faced woman who, even in her eighties, managed to look considerably younger than her years and who used to say, “My heart is bound up in the desert.” So, it might be added, was her considerable fortune. Her father, Judge John Guthrie McCallum, arrived in 1884, having sought out the desert air for the sake of a tubercular son. Palm Springs was a sleepy Indian settlement called Agua Caliente, named for the warm mineral springs that bubbled up through the sand and are now the site of the Palm Springs Spa and “the world’s most beautiful bathhouse.” Judge McCallum became the area’s first white settler. He bought up between five and six thousand acres of land, built an aqueduct to carry water down from the mountains, constructed nineteen miles of irrigation canals, and began growing citrus, fig, and other fruit trees. He never lived to see his investment become a success. At the time of his death an eleven-year drought had dried up his canals and aqueduct—this was before Palm Springs was discovered to rest on a series of underground lakes that made water plentiful and cheap—and his fruit orchards had withered and died. “Father died of a broken heart,” Mrs. McManus used to say.
But his considerable land passed on to his daughter, who managed her properties with a shrewdness that won her the admiration of every real estate man in town, which is to say a large share of the population. She also exercised a good deal of taste, and the buildings for which she is responsible show style and restraint in a town not noted for architectural distinction. It was she who built the handsome Tennis Club—which has been called with customary Palm Springs excess “the most beautiful two acres in America”—as well as a number of the better-looking commercial buildings downtown.
By the late 1960s, widowed and childless and without collateral heirs, Mrs. McManus began to think in terms of foundations and other beneficiaries of her money and properties. She had become interested in the newly founded College of the Desert, a junior college outside Palm Springs, only to discover that this institution too seemed to have become afflicted with the curious logy-mindedness one occasionally encounters in southern California. She had sent the college a check for seven thousand dollars. The president had called to thank her for the gift and had suggested that the money might be spent to purchase new robes for the college choir. “Now, wouldn’t you think,” Mrs. McManus said to a friend at the time, “that the college—any college—could find something better to spend that money on than choir robes? Why not books, for example? Choir robes!”
It was real estate fever, Mrs. McManus freely admitted, that kept her young. She would stand on the veranda of her comfortable but unpretentious pink stucco house overlooking Palm Springs and the acreage her father had bought and talk, rather the way Joan Irvine still talks, of “whole new cities, whole new communities” being carved out of far-off mountains and hidden canyons and arroyos beyond. In her eighties she was taken on a private helicopter tour over some of those wild, lost ridges, and immediately became excited about their development. “You see,” she said with a smile, “I own some of those mountains.”
Auntie Pearl McManus is gone now, but the mountains are still there, as they are all over California, waiting to be developed, waiting to turn into money. And the California dream—riches, riches everywhere, endless possibilities opening up in the empty hills—goes on. To the plop of tennis balls, to the chug of golf carts, the swish of designer jeans and the chink of gold chains, it goes on.
After all, El Dorado is just over there, beyond the brow of the next hill.
* Not long after the sheik’s seven-million-dollar renovation was completed he returned to Saudi Arabia—summoned home, it was suggested, because of official embarrassment over what he had done in Beverly Hills. Early in 1980 two mysterious fires broke out simultaneously in two different parts of the untenanted and unguarded mansion. Arson was suspected, and Newsweek quoted one of the sheik’s neighbors as saying, “We’re kind of happy about the fire,” though the nude statues remained unsinged.
IMAGE GALLERY
Spanish explorer Sebastián Vizcaíno and his exploring party landing at Monterey in 1601. The Spanish were hoping to reach the East, but soon became excited by the prospect of riches from Californian gold and silver. Collection of the Architect of the Capitol/Library of Congress
When Mexico refused to sell the United States its vast western landholdings, America seized them by force. Pictured is the last battle (1847) in what is now the Los Angeles suburb of Vernon. Library of Congress
This cartoon, first published in 1849, makes fun of those rushing off to California to find gold. Library of Congress
The California gold diggers sought gold with religious fervor, but the gold found during the Gold Rush—some $3 billion worth—made no man permanently rich. Bancroft Library/University of California, Berkeley
Society of California Pioneers
Society of California Pioneers
William S. O’Brien, one of the four Silver Kings, picked up a tip about the Comstock Lode while working in a storefront bar and grill in San Francisco. The extraordinary find made O’Brien and his partners four of the world’s richest men. Culver Pictures
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sp; The Belcher Mine, just one in the Comstock Lode, produced over $26 million worth of gold and silver by 1916. Mackay School of Mines/University of Nevada
Drawing ore from a mine shaft. Globe Photos
Ulysses S. Grant (fourth from right) and his wife (third from right) visit the Comstock Lode, 1879. Extreme left: John William Mackay. Extreme right: James Graham Fair. California State Library
A railroad advertisement designed to lure immigrants to California. New-York Historical Society
Pioneers bedding down for the night. “California was more than the end of the rainbow; it was the last stop for the Conestoga wagon.” Corcoran Gallery of Art
A pioneer’s drawing. “The California pioneer had reached the end of the continent, the last frontier, the last horizon.” Henry E. Huntington Library and Art Gallery
Families such as this one, pictured in 1886, packed all their possessions onto horse-drawn wagons and trekked out West. When they got to California they discovered that the huge landholdings of the California rich made their dreams of owning a small farm impossible, and many of them became tenant farmers. Library of Congress
The interior of a covered wagon that traveled from Cincinnati, Ohio, to Yolo County, California, in 1849. Library of Congress
California pioneers still pouring into the last frontier with the hope of establishing their fortunes. UPI
An original California land grant for four square leagues of San Francisco County. Bancroft Library/University of California, Berkeley
San Francisco in 1849. Wells Fargo Bank, History Room
San Franciso today. UPI
Because the corrupt city police could not be trusted to apprehend criminals, citizens formed vigilante groups to protect their rights. Here, a parade of armed vigilantes held in San Francisco in 1856. New-York Historical Society
Michael DeYoung, cofounder and publisher of the San Francisco Chronicle, sometimes used his paper as an instrument of blackmail, which made him one of the most feared and hated—and powerful—men in the city in the 1880s. UPI
Flood’s palatial house in suburban Menlo Park, which became known locally as “Flood’s Wedding Cake.” California State Library
Ralston’s mansion. Culver Pictures
The spectacular Palace Hotel, built by William Ralston, in 1900. Culver Pictures
The Palace Hotel today. UPI
James C. Flood, another of the Silver Kings. “Perhaps no other individual in the history of American capitalism catapulted himself from grim squalor to glittering splendor in so short a time as the ex-bartender and his wife, a former chambermaid.” Culver Pictures
William Ralston, founder of the Bank of California, made a number of other San Franciscans rich through his banking, but left no fortune as a result of one of the most stunning cases of business treachery in California history. Culver Pictures
William Sharon, the man Ralston made richest of all, became a Senator from Nevada before betraying his benefactor. Culver Pictures
Southern Pacific
Southern Pacific
Southern Pacific
UPI
Stanford University Libraries/Special Collections
Bancroft Library University of California, Berkeley
Culver Pictures
Charles Crocker, Mark Hopkins, Leland Stanford, Collis Potter Huntington: a quadrumvirate unusual in railroading because they seemed to get along with one another, reaping a fortune from the coast-to-coast Central Pacific Railroad. Also shown are the Crocker, Hopkins and Stanford residences.
President and Mrs. Rutherford Hayes at the house of Senator Leland Stanford (hat in hand), Menlo Park, California. Culver Pictures
Oriental interiors were fashionable in nineteenth-century California mansions. Culver Pictures
Born virtually penniless in Dublin, John W. Mackay became a multimillionaire through his part ownership of the Bonanza Mines of the Comstock Lode. Culver Pictures
Maude (“Emerald”) Burke failed socially in San Francisco and New York, but became one of London’s most popular and powerful hostesses after she married Sir Bache Cunard. Culver Pictures
Mrs. John W. Mackay, transformed from a destitute young widow to the heights of wealth and society by her marriage to a millionaire miner. Culver Pictures
Mackay’s daughter and heiress married Prince Colonna of France. Culver Pictures
After the devastating San Francisco earthquake of 1906. Author’s Collection
Amadeo Peter Giannini, whose little Bank of Italy became the largest commercial bank in the world, the giant Bank of America. Culver Pictures
The Bank of Italy on Montgomery Street in San Francisco, back in business shortly after the 1906 earthquake and fire. (Owner Giannini had escaped the disaster with his entire supply of gold tucked into produce wagons.) Culver Pictures
This emergency branch of the Bank of America in Southern California’s Engineering Exposition building served customers during the aftermath of the 1933 earthquake. UPI
In 1862, an Act of Congress was passed by which some $25 million in 6-percent government bonds, along with 4½ million acres of public lands, were placed at the disposal of the founders of the Central Pacific Railroad. Southern Pacific
A magazine cartoon reflecting the pride Americans felt in the supreme technical feat of joining the entire nation by railroad. Southern Pacific
The Golden Spike Ceremony took place in 1869 in Promontory, Utah. The golden spike was 18 ounces of pure California gold. Dept. of Parks and Recreation/State of California
A jab at railroad baron Collis P. Huntington, head of the Central Pacific-Southern Pacific “octopus.” The monopoly wielded power over the legislature, the courts, and the business people of California. California State Library
When the arbitrary rates of the Southern Pacific Railroad soared too high, sugar manufacturer Claus Spreckels built a railroad of his own. San Diego Historical Society/Title Insurance & Trust Collection
California’s reputation as a Garden of Eden was established only after ways were found to redistribute the state’s water supply. This watercolor shows a farmer opening a sluice gate to irrigate his crops. The Oakland Museum, Gift of Dr. and Mrs. Frederick G. Novy
This 1907 advertisement caricatures Californians’ pride in their superior fruits and vegetables. California Historical Society
The opening of the 225-mile Los Angeles-Owens River Aqueduct in 1913 helped turn the city from an arid cow town into a metropolis. California Historical Society
William Mulholland was the self-taught “Wizard of Water” who planned the Los Angeles Aqueduct. But his miscalculations in building St. Francis Dam, just north of the city, caused one of the area’s worst floods. California Historical Society
Huge crowds came to see the first cascade of Owens River water sluicing down into the San Fernando Valley on its way to Los Angeles. California Historical Society
Jaw Bone Canyon Siphon in the San Fernando Valley—just a fragment of the hundreds of miles of water pipeline that “made the desert bloom.” California Historical Society
Water was so precious to California settlers that they set up special patrols to oversee its disbursement. This document details their duties. California Historical Society
The St. Francis Dam after its collapse in 1926. The flood destroyed three towns, claimed 420 lives, and covered much of Ventura County with a blanket of mud. UPI
Chief Engineer Mulholland at the coroner’s inquest following the St. Francis catastrophe. He took complete responsibility for the disaster, saying, “If there was an error of human judgment, I was the human.” UPI
Los Angeles in 1853, with barely fifty American residents. It was “a sluggish, dispirited place where lynch law prevailed.” Culver Pictures
The newer, more stylish homes in the outskirts of the city were surrounded by wild mountains filled with sagebrush and coyotes. Culver Pictures
Aerial view of sprawling Los Angeles in 1938. UPI
Hollywood has long served as a
n inspiration for dreams and fantasies. This 1887 vision of a Hollywood subdivision was never built. UPI
Hollywood Boulevard in 1903, a mixture of rural and suburban. UPI
Los Angeles today, a spectacular view from the hills at twilight. Culver Pictures
This cartoon from a 1926 issue of Life magazine illustrates the California stereotypes that abounded even then. Culver Pictures.
Newspaper baron William Randolph Hearst indulged his passion for spending by building the palatial San Simeon. In this 114-room Moorish castle overlooking the Pacific he housed his awesome collection of art and furniture from all over the world. Dept. of Transportation/State of California
The Patricia Hearst trial made the same kind of sensational headlines that had been her grandfather’s specialty. UPI
Coffee-fortune heiress Abigail Folger was one of the five persons killed in the Manson “family” murders. For months afterward, the rich of Southern California went into hiding. UPI
In 1950 alone, the annual output of California oil wells surpassed in dollar value the entire output of all the state’s gold mines since the discovery of that precious metal at Sutter’s Mill. California Historical Society
Lyman Stewart, head of the Union Oil Company, was a frugal Presbyterian who paid himself only $5 a day, even though his company produced about 5 million barrels a year. UPI
Edward Doheny (in straw hat) had been a mule driver, a fruit packer, a singing waiter, and a gunslinger before he became an oil tycoon who was “even richer than ‘the richest man in America,’ John D. Rockefeller.” California Historical Society
Edward L. Doheny. “As a rich man, the former Southwestern gunman affected a monocle, a walrus moustache, British tailoring, and an autocratic manner.” UPI
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