My hard work and sacrifice at the firm proved worthwhile when Gene Mitchell arrived at my office, dropped a leather case on my desk and told me about my next project. “Otto, you’re being assigned to a high-profile client. His name is William Randolph Hearst, a well-known publishing tycoon with a reputation for being clever, shrewd and extreme.”
I’d heard about him. Hearst was a multi-millionaire with controversial political views, a big-hearted pocketbook and a long history of indulgences in life’s finer pleasures. His name was a familiar sight in daily newspapers and magazines across America.
Gene outlined the assignment for me. “I’ve set up an appointment with him on Friday morning at his ranch in San Simeon. He requested someone smart, honest and able to travel for the special assignment. You’re the best fit for the job.”
“I hear Mr. Hearst is a man who resists playing by the rules. Is it true?”
“You can handle him, Otto. Just do it with kid gloves.” Gene winked and walked out the door.
I opened the briefcase and shuffled through the large file on my prospective client. It described a man who went after the things he wanted and did whatever it took to get them. A personal background summary was included with the papers.
His history stated that he was the only son and heir to George and Phoebe Hearst, whose vast fortune was acquired through silver mining. As a young boy, he had traveled extensively with his mother around Europe, learning to speak German and French while there. He had acquired collections of stamps, coins and porcelain while abroad.
It was obvious that he’d continued his excess of accumulation, judging by the large number of import receipts tucked inside the files Gene had left. Mr. Hearst definitely had an appetite for fine things, and an abundance of money to satisfy his every whim.
Reviewing his information further, I learned that as a young man, he had attended Harvard College, but did not graduate due to a school prank. I smiled upon reading a note in pencil explaining that he’d sent several of his professors chamber pots with their names engraved on them.
What a unique sense of humor, I thought. Here’s a man unafraid to state his mind. He definitely lives a flamboyant lifestyle most people only dream about.
A list detailing his vast holdings and assets was included in the portfolio. The entrepreneur owned an inventory of twenty-two newspapers and magazines from coast to coast. Some of the names I recognized: the New York Daily Mirror, Cosmopolitan and Harper’s Bazaar.
Mr. Hearst’s political achievements were noted in some attached news clippings. Upon reading them, I saw that he had promoted his personal political views though the various editorial machines of his newspapers and magazine. He had to be a multifaceted man who thrived on sensationalism in all areas of his life.
The record stated that he had married Millicent Veronica Willson in 1903. They had five sons, including their twin boys. Officially, they all resided in New York City. But in a folded note marked Confidential, it was revealed that Mr. Hearst spent most of his time at his California residence where he resided with his mistress, the actress Marion Davies.
The information was not a surprise. I’d heard rumors from some of my colleagues about wild parties at his secluded residence. I only hoped his personal life, so different from mine, wouldn’t interfere with our business relationship.
A map and directions were included in the file. Mr. Hearst’s sprawling abode was located in the town of San Simeon, about halfway between San Francisco and Los Angeles. This could be a lucky break for me, I thought. If Mr. Hearst likes my style, I could learn so much from him—a man who has already achieved the success I crave. A tinge of doubt swept through me as I wondered if I could win him over.
