Los Angeles – When he died, the nation mourned. Flags flew at half-staff. Movie screens went dark. Radio broadcasters observed 30 minutes of silence. Under a scorching sun in Glendale, Calif., 50,000 people filed past his casket.
In an era of hip-hop and reality TV, it is difficult to grasp the hold this man had on Americans. He was the most beloved person of his day, the country’s first multimedia star.
Damon Runyon wrote in tribute that he was “America’s most complete human document. One-third humor. One-third humanitarian. One-third heart.”
Today, this man is remembered dimly, if at all. But in the Pacific Palisades section of Los Angeles, his descendants and admirers are working with architects and curators to change that. They are restoring the ranch where he spent his last years.
The process, say those involved, is about more than repairing a house and grounds on which time and the elements have taken a toll.
It’s about resurrecting the largely forgotten legacy of a man whose humor (“I’m not a member of any organized party. I’m a Democrat.”) proved a tonic for a nation in the grip of war and the Depression.
In a peripatetic life, the ranch was the last place Will Rogers called home. And he put his stamp on every inch of it.
William Penn Adair Rogers was born Nov. 4, 1879, in what is now Oklahoma.
As a boy, Rogers perfected his roping skills while tending to Texas longhorns on his father’s ranch. He dropped out of school in the 10th grade to join a Texas cattle drive.
Disheartened by the dwindling of the open range and infected with a wanderlust that would prove lifelong, he traveled to Argentina, then South Africa. There, he got his first taste of show business doing rope tricks in Texas Jack’s Wild West Show.
He moved to vaudeville, where he displayed a knack for making people laugh. After muffing a two-rope toss in Philadelphia, he said: “I’m handicapped up h’yar, as the manager won’t let me swear when I miss!” He earned three curtain calls.
Next he moved to the Ziegfeld Follies and Ziegfeld’s Midnight Frolic, where his wry observations about politics made him a headliner.
Post-World War I America saw the rise of mass media: radio, newsreels and syndicated newspaper features. Rogers’ down-home twang, homespun observations and unpretentious integrity – “I am the only man who came out of the movies with the same wife he started with” – made him the biggest celebrity of his day.
By the mid-1920s, his rambling commentaries and pithy “Will Rogers Says” shorts were running in hundreds of papers.
After hearing in the mid-1920s that the city of Los Angeles planned to build Beverly (later Sunset) Boulevard from Beverly Hills to the coast, Will and wife Betty bought 160 raw acres in Pacific Palisades for $319,442. It had views of the Palos Verdes Peninsula, downtown Los Angeles and the ocean.
Rogers hired scores of craftsmen to add flourishes. He called the ranch “my own WPA,” referring to the Works Progress Administration, a federal job program. In the end, the house had 31 rooms, including five bathrooms.
Will Rogers died at age 55 in a plane crash. Back at the ranch, all work was halted.
In June 1944, his widow deeded the ranch house and surrounding 186.5 acres to the state of California, with conditions: The state would maintain the structures and grounds as a memorial to Rogers.
Once under state control, Will Rogers State Historic Park inevitably began feeling less like a home and more like a public park.
Four years ago, Chuck Rogers, a grandson of the humorist, threatened to sue the state for neglecting the property, and park officials began a wide- ranging restoration.
State parks officials say they look forward to reacquainting visitors, particularly schoolchildren, with the ranch.
“This was the home of one of America’s most beloved national figures,” said Ruth Coleman, state parks director. “Our children need to learn this story.”
