The Beauty and The Beast

Reclaiming our Crowning Glory

The Eureka Inn is the crown jewel of our little semi-Victorian bayside burg. It was built in 1922 - a half-timbered Tudor edifice, occupying an entire elevated city block near the centre of town – and is listed on the National Register of Historic Places. Owned by the Barnum family until the death of the family matriarch, it was sold, only to suffer management problems under the new owners which led to its closing in 2003.

While it was open and thriving, it was a mecca for tourists, and a centre for community activities. There were 104 guest rooms, a swimming pool area (closed over), 8000 square feet of meeting space, a café, a fine dining restaurant, two bars – one with a fireplace and conversation circles of comfortably upholstered high-backed chairs.

The lobby is spacious in area and height, and was elegantly carpeted and furnished around a large fireplace. At Christmas time, the place was always decorated to the nines, with a giant revolving tree overlooking a month-long parade of musical performances. Now under new ownership once again, the exterior has been repainted and interior construction, refurbishing and maintenance are ongoing. It was to be reopened for business last year…this year…maybe next year.

The Seat of the County

If the Inn is the bling of this old dame city, the courthouse is the boil on her butt (or County seat, if you will). The two original adjoining gray institutional boxes housed county offices, courtrooms and two floors of County jail. Overflowing and bursting at its concrete seams, the building was scheduled for a mandated earthquake retrofit, and a new jail addition was planned for the same time.

When construction was completed, the newly vacant top floors of the old structure were remodeled into deluxe new offices with spectacular views of the Bay and the city. The windows of our ground-floor office were boarded over on the outside with dirty scratched green board, hiding the new wall half a foot away, and effectively jailing us from 8 to 5 every day. What is the difference between work and prison? About 6 inches, I would guess. At least we did partially solve our window problem by creating a mural on the inside glass.



The front façade of two tall tower areas in the new jail were striped with rows of brick – very cheery, like square barber poles. The entire front half of the addition was finished off in baby poop yellow, the back half in the rosy blush of a salmon in heat.



To complement the new addition, the original boxes were repainted in the ever tasteful, blend-into-the-fog decorator tones of beige, greige, and bluege. The whole of this cobbled-together building range is a monument to design by dueling committees, and is a viable contender for ugliest building on the continent. There was a second addition planned for the other side of the jail that was meant to house all of the courtrooms and court offices, but we ran out of money, and it is now a much-needed parking lot. The court attachment would have been a lovely turreted Victorian, blending in nicely with the over-all structure.

A Magnificent Folly

After posting this entry, I learned that women now have more access to the place than they had before, although they must still be accompanied by male members (with all other parts attached, I assume). I don't know how they feel about loose women, but there shall be no women on the loose running amok in the halls.

The Ingomar Club, nee the Carson Mansion, may be the most photographed building in the U.S. It was built in 1885 by lumber and railroad magnate William Carson from the eclectic and absurdly controversial design of a pair of San Francisco architects. Originally from the province of New Brunswick, Canada, Carson came to California to look for gold, and found redwood instead.

The last of his descendants to live in the Mansion moved out in 1940, leaving it vacant for 10 years. It was in danger of being demolished so that the property could be developed, but a group of local businessmen purchased the building for use as a private men’s club. They decided to call it The Ingomar Club after the theatre which Carson had constructed and named after his favourite play, “Ingomar the Barbarian”. Club members pay for maintenance and improvement of the building and its grounds. Fine dining can be had in the new boxy restaurant addition overlooking the Bay.

The purpose of the club is for the socializing and enjoyment of its male-only members. Initiation fees and dues are steep, entrance is allowed only to members and their guests, except on rare occasions women are forbidden, dress code is absolute. Within its walls, business fellows are hailed and well-met, wheels are dealed and deals wheeled, power is broked, movers and shakers of the community discuss their next move and how it will shake out.

The Penile Cupola

Periodically through the years women have tried to gain entrance…local businesswomen wanting membership and access to the inner circle…visiting notables wanting a tour of the building or a meal on the wrong day…Verboten! Not one angry, frustrated, little toe through the doorway.

We make up stories about the building and imaginary occupants. Its crazy, crenellated, Goth, bats-in-the-belfry exterior lends itself to tales of debauchery, bestiality, slavery and abuse, bondage and discipline days. The political secrecy of a Bohemian Club or Skull & Bones, the fantastic excess of a Disney castle, accessible as the Pope’s bedchamber, with overtones of Abu Ghraib. Reality, I am sure, is probably dry as toast, but what we’re not allowed to see, we can imagine any way we want. Although, actually, I have been inside – one Christmas party, one bank business reception, one luncheon. It’s very beautiful – full of wonderful wood – a magnificent playhouse.