Place to see: Vizcaya Museum and Gardens, Miami, Florida, United States

About this place:

I hope you get a tour guide like mine. Florida-brown Ms. Arlene B. Stephens, whose bleached-blonde coif pulled her to just over five-feet tall, began our tour of the Vizcaya Museum by telling us that James Deering, then-president of International Harvester and the pockets behind the extravagant villa in which we stood, was fortunately unburdened by today’s “repressive income tax where the government doesn’t want you to keep any of your own money.”

Regardless of your guide, Deering’s villa and gardens are exquisite. Within it is especially sumptuous: a medley of classical, baroque and renaissance styles of décor, each room calls forth a different century than the last. To add to the mix, Deering’s technological preferences were not so dated as his decorative choices. He furnished his multi-century villa with every state-of-the-art convenience that his era had to offer: Electric candelabras, refrigeration, two elevators, an electric telephone with a dial tone, a central heating system (to dry out the furniture at night), a fire control system and even a central vacuuming system. The gardens remain attractive, though deterioration from years of humidity and occasional hurricanes is evident. Greens dotted by Greek-style statuary, ponds and pools give way to a well-maintained hedge labyrinth and a few grandiose, though dry when I visited, fountains.

Perhaps the most impressive exterior feature is the wide half-circle terrace at the villa’s rear. Cast tangent to the shore, this palm-dotted arc embraces Deering’s “Great Stone Barge,” which at 130 feet long is twice the length of Columbus’ vessel. Its statues had recently been restored when I visited, as the barge, built by Deering to serve as a ‘break-water’, had not fared well during Hurricane Wilma’s 2005 visit. On close examination you may still notice de-tined tridents, nose-less sea nymphs and at least one decapitated myrmidon.

Constructed from 1914-1916, Vizcaya is the product of nearly a decade of shopping expeditions through Europe, which undoubtedly would have exhausted a lesser man. However, the never-married Deering was clearly determined—when his first set of gold-enameled china sank with the Titanic, he simply ordered a second. But ten years of shopping will tire a man out. For one thing, Deering seemingly got rather lazy in his later years. According to Ms. Stephens, the music room “en totale” was bought in Italy: harp, piano, chairs, paintings, fireplace, walls, ceilings, even the minstrels. Talk about one-stop shopping. In the long-run though, Deering might have been better off buying more complete-room packages. In 1925, less than a decade after the home’s completion, he died.