AN EVENING WITH MR. HEARTS THE CASTLE'S 1930S HEYDAY IS RE-CREATED IN FASCINATING NOCTURAL TOURS.

Byline: Story by Eric Noland Travel Editor

SAN SIMEON - In a dressing room in the remote recesses of Hearst Castle, Diane Marchetti glanced at a mirror, and had to like what she saw. The evening gown she had found in an obscure little dress shop shimmered like silver, and sheathed her slender figure like a second skin. She tucked her hair beneath a curly blond wig and checked the mirror again.

This was a special occasion.

On this night, she would be part of a small assembly of dinner guests at the home of William Randolph Hearst himself. It was an opportunity that mandated making a positive impression on the Chief. That would mean being scrupulously careful not to drink too much champagne (she'd been warned about that), maybe inquiring about the coverage Hearst's 35 newspapers were giving to the Seattle-to-Tokyo aviation attempt, and perhaps providing details of her horseback romp across a ridge top in the Santa Lucia Mountains that morning.

This moment engendered breathless excitement, but it did not occur 70 years ago, when Hearst and his castle were at their zenith. It occurred three months ago, when Marchetti, who by day teaches eighth-grade math in nearby Atascadero, was joining several other docents to lend an undercurrent of realism to an evening tour of the opulent hilltop mansion.

The evening tours, instituted a dozen years ago but offered only during the slack tourist periods of spring and fall, have been extremely popular, according to a spokesman for the state park system, which administers the property. And it's not difficult to see why. They provide a glimpse of the castle as it would have been in its 1930s glory, when Hearst routinely entertained select groups of guests for the weekend.

According to ``The Golden Days of San Simeon,'' by Ken Murray (a former vaudeville comic who was an occasional guest at the castle), these events would begin with a telephoned invitation to assorted friends, Hollywood figures, writers, politicians, sports stars. Then there would be a private train ride from Glendale to San Luis Obispo, where a fleet of limousines would collect the guests for the crawl up the primitive central coast road to the tycoon's beloved La Cuesta Encantada (the enchanted hill).

Once there, the guests might warm themselves by one of the 41 fireplaces, peer into one of the 56 bedrooms or freshen up in one of the 61 bathrooms. Maybe take a dip in the 345,000-gallon Neptune Pool. Or gaze out a window at the spectacular view, amazed that their host owned virtually everything in sight - 270,000 acres, 50 miles of coastline.

For those who have slogged through the main daytime tour with 50-plus other visitors, the evening tour, limited to three groups of 18 visitors each, offers a much different sense of the place. You're likely to catch a dramatic sunset over the ocean, framed by the marble colonnade of the Neptune Pool. The buildings and grounds are romantically lit by their 1930s- era fixtures, including alabaster globes atop ornate pillars.

``I hope you brought your imagination,'' guide Bill Coleman said as he greeted his group of visitors one evening in late December. ``You're going to see it as it was when Hearst was entertaining guests in the evening.''

And indeed, after we climbed a staircase to the Neptune Pool, elegantly dressed guests were milling about, conversing quietly in small groups and sipping cocktails. A maid happened by, bearing an armful of towels.

They are all volunteers who participate in Hearst Castle's Living History Program, and they take it seriously. They don't want a visitor's experience to be marred by the brief flash of a Calvin Klein logo.

In the dressing rooms well before the evening tour was to begin, Marchetti enthused about the vintage dresses she had been able to find in second-hand stores far and wide. Her husband, John, pulled an antique pocket watch out of his vest; it had belonged to his father. John even purchased a pair of 1930s eyeglass frames and had them fitted with his prescription lenses.

State parks employee Brandi Bohey, who helps oversee the program, conducted a quick tour of the wares in the rooms.

There were vintage dresses, the hems of which puddle on the ground in the fashion of the day. There were women's cloche hats, which were worn way down on the forehead (Murray's book includes a photo of Carole Lombard peeking out from beneath one on a visit to the castle). And there was rack after rack of furs, seemingly from every animal that could blunder into a trap. ``They're not politically correct anymore,'' Bohey said. ``We get a lot of donations.''

On the men's side, there were walking sticks, hip flasks, smoking jackets, handkerchiefs, boutonnieres and an astounding array of hats: fedoras, homburgs, berets, straw boaters, bowlers.

Fashion photos clipped from old magazines are tacked to the wall, assisting the docents in their quest for authenticity.

``We've even used our Model A up there on the site,'' said John Marchetti, who works at a civil engineering firm in San Luis Obispo. ``We pile some luggage in the back.''

On the evening of our tour, several docents were sitting in a corner of the Assembly Room, playing cards, as we entered the castle. Another was browsing one of Hearst's newspapers - an actual one from the period, yellow journalism now truly yellowed with age. Another was writing in a journal.

Coleman addressed us as if we, too, had been included on the guest list - though all of it, of course, was make-believe.

``You may have noticed a tray of drinks,'' he said. ``Have one, maybe two if you can handle it. But remember that Mr. Hearst has no tolerance for drunkenness. If you got drunk, you'd probably be sent home - and probably not invited back.''

In the Refectory, it was startling to see ketchup bottles standing on the antique tables of Italian walnut, but this was not accidental.

Hearst made a sentimental choice for the site of this home. His father, George, after making a fortune mining silver in Nevada and copper in Montana, bought vast sections of central coast land from Mexican ranchers starved by a prolonged drought. Then he'd bring his family up here for camp-outs, placing condiments on the table in their ``store containers.'' The tradition was carried on in the new house.

We were ushered into the kitchen, where a docent in chef's attire was busily working. When asked about the evening's menu, he said, ``It's all set. Roast beef, rare, just like the Chief likes it; he won't have it any other way. I've got some chickens on the spit from that ranch you passed on the way up the hill. Four different kinds of bread. Vegetables. And five desserts, including homemade vanilla ice cream - the Chief's favorite. That's probably why he's 280 pounds. And I think it's the only thing he doesn't put ketchup on.''

The illusion was maintained throughout the 2 1/2-hour tour, with only a couple of minor lapses. When we happened upon a newspaper reporter pecking away at an ancient typewriter in a bedroom, I asked him which paper he was with. ``The Chronicle,'' he replied. Oops. Hearst owned the rival Examiner in San Francisco.

On another occasion, as I eavesdropped on a conversation, I heard two couples discussing a show they'd seen on TV the night before. That medium didn't come into commercial use until well after the glory days of Hearst Castle.

In fact, the presence of the docents in period garb left me wanting more. With the exception of the chef, interaction with them is not encouraged. But it would be fun to have a guide say, perhaps in the Assembly Room, ``Let's be quiet for a moment and see if we can listen in on what they're talking about.''

And then visitors could eavesdrop for a moment on a conversation about the Lindbergh baby kidnapping, the fairly strong showing by a Prohibitionist Party candidate in the California race for the U.S. Senate, or even some speculation about the costume party to be held at the castle the next night. Given the enthusiasm of the volunteers for this program, it's likely they would take well to such theatrics.

Other visitors on the tour didn't seem to have any quibbles, though. ``They used to just tell you about how it was built,'' said one woman member of the group, referring to the standard daytime tour. ``This one is much more personal.''

After presiding over a late-ish dinner (9 p.m.), Hearst would expect his guests to join him in his theater for a screening of a new Hollywood release (or even a movie that had not yet been released). To simulate the experience - although we had to sit on benches at the back of the theater to reduce wear on the original plush seats - a 1933 Hearst newsreel was aired.

As with his newspapers, it preferred sensationalism to substance - in this case, footage of ships being battered and swamped by a fierce Atlantic storm. Then there was the Chief himself, holding forth in its trademark high-pitched voice, urging viewers to buy American, in order ``to generate wealth and prosperity.''

It was all we could do not to burst out laughing. This was filmed in the dark depths of the Depression, and here we sat in an absurdly opulent country home - one of several spreads Hearst owned - crammed to the rafters with expensive antiquities, some of which actually reflect a semblance of order.

Hearst Castle has differing effects on its visitors. Some consider it a lavish treasure, others a ghastly testament to a man who fancied art, had more money than he knew what to do with and created an absurd hodgepodge in his attempt to marry the two.

In the 1920s, Europe was reeling economically from the drains of World War I, and it soon found an enthusiastic market for its treasures among the nouveau-riche tycoons of America. Hearst could have done the world a favor by purchasing ancient buildings and keeping them intact, with their fixtures and artworks, where they stood. But such was not the sensibility of the times.

Instead, he bought entire monasteries, had them stripped of their distinctive features and shipped the lot to California. Other items - ancient ceilings, doorways, choir stalls and individual artworks of every type - he voraciously sought out and secured through art dealers. All was unloaded here and jammed into the castle, with little evident thought given to thematic sense.

You walk into the Main Library, for example, and survey leather-bound American works set among ancient Greek vases, Persian rugs and a hand-carved ceiling from a palace in Aragon, Spain. The Refectory (Hearst favored that name because that's how monks referred to their dining hall) combines an Italian Travertine floor, Catalonian choir stalls, English tables, Flemish tapestries, Italian parish flags, silver French candlesticks, a silver Irish mace.

It can be nothing short of dizzying. Was this art collection ... or simple accumulation? Were those weekend guests invited up because he genuinely enjoyed their company, or because he wanted to show off his big house and all that amazing stuff?

It probably doesn't matter now. In visiting this castle on a hill - especially when it is dressed for the evening - visitors can gain a strong sense of the manifestations and indulgences of sudden wealth in the early 20th century. And it's probably harmless to imagine what it would have been like to have this site, this much land, that view, and a bottomless budget for construction, furnishings, entertainment.

After we left the seductively lit Roman pool, scuffing our heels over the inlaid 22-karat gold in the deck tiles, the passengers on the bus were silent on the way down the hill. Maybe this group of tourists was toying with the same fantasy.

Far down the road, a glimpse of the receding castle was visible through a gap in the trees, the twin bell towers gleaming against the night sky.

Maybe it is a garish monstrosity, a monument to avarice, but on this night Hearst Castle seemed magical.

Encantada, to be sure.

IF YOU GO

GETTING THERE: Hearst Castle is in San Simeon, 242 miles north of Los Angeles via U.S. 101 and Highway 1. If you're taking an evening tour, you might want to arrange your lodgings nearby. San Simeon has some nondescript motels along the highway. Cambria, eight miles to the south, is a bit touristy, but it offers a wide array of lodgings - from stylish bed-and-breakfast inns to beachfront motels to forest lodges.

EVENING TOURS: They are offered on select evenings in the spring, fall and early winter. The tours resumed this weekend, and will be offered until the end of May. They'll resume again just after Labor Day and continue to the end of the year. They're generally offered on Friday and Saturday nights, and nightly over the final two weeks of the year (except Christmas Eve, Christmas and New Year's Eve). The tour starts around dusk (call for exact times) and lasts 2 1/2 hours, including the drive up and down the mountain. Over the course of the tour, you'll have to negotiate 377 steps. Ticket prices are $20 for adults, $10 for kids ages 6-17. No food or drink is served.

INFORMATION: This is a popular tour, such that it's a good idea to call well in advance to book it. Information, tour dates and reservations: [phone]. Web: www.hearstcastle.org.

CAPTION(S):

6 photos, box

Photo:

(1 -- color) An evening tour of Hearst Castle begins with a visit to the lavish Neptune Pool - and if you're lucky, your arrival will coincide with a dramatic sunset off the central coast.

(2 -- 3 -- color) Docents dress in period garb to lend a distinct sense of realism to an evening tour of Hearst Castle. The famed San Simeon mansion is an enchanted place when the lights come up after dark, right.

(4 -- 5) A chef removes a hot apple pie from the oven, left. Also on the tour is the mansion's indoor pool, below, which takes on a romantic look at night.

(6) A docent dressed as a Hearst newspaper columnist punches out a story on a 1930s typewriter during an evening tour at Hearst Castle.

Photos by Craig Mailloux/Staff Photographer

Box: If You Go (see text)