B & B : Bed and breakfast American style: The high price of kitsch

Despite the popular myth that all B&Bs; are a joy, well . . . hear this.

The fact of the matter is that a surprising number of B&Bs; are little more than drafty old fixer-uppers where guests gather to share a plate piled high with warmed-over muffins, a communal bath and a few slugs of drugstore sherry.

This is particularly true of the dude who pawns off Sonny’s old bedroom after it’s been spruced up with a few garage sale souvenirs. Yes, the same slickeroo who tries to convince us that we are about to overdose on charm.

Charm?

You call padding down the hall to the potty charm?

Or lying awake listening to the guy snore or make love in the room next door. That’s charm?

Those who’ve traveled the B&B; circuit must, by now, have become a trifle bored with all the banal conversation that goes on around the breakfast table. This along with another batch of croissants, sliced bananas, dry cereal, ad nauseum.

And all this for up to $100 a night. Sometimes more.

The proliferation of B&Bs; in the United States was born with the idea picked up by Americans traveling the B&B; byways of Europe where, indeed, the bed-and-breakfast ritual is considered a bargain.

The trouble is, anxious Americans who emulated their European cousins got greedy. Not in the beginning, mind you. Early on they kept their rates rather reasonable. And please, this is not an indictment of the entire B&B; industry. There are exceptions. But more and more, travelers in the United States are complaining. They say they are being had by unscrupulous mom ‘n’ poppers out to make a fast buck with little more than a mortgage that needs mending.

Nineteen years ago Jane Way of Sutter Creek, Calif., opened the first B&B; west of the Mississippi. Today in California alone she has more than 700 competitors. Some describe themselves as innkeepers, others say they operate B&Bs.; A lot of these places are jokes. Some proprietors aren’t certain whether they’re operating a B&B;, an inn or if they have something going that suggests the Greenbrier with kitsch and croissants.

The idea with a lot of B&B; proprietors is that when the kids leave home, mommy and daddy will turn the bedroom over to strangers. Slip a comforter on a four-poster, drop a few posies into a vase, roll a piano into the living room and there you have it--a B&B.; And the idea, but always, is charm. Charm as in cute.

Cute little cutouts, cute names, cute expressions (framed and hung on the walls). And of course, pillows stitched with other folksy expressions. In some cases all this turns out well.

Sometimes it’s even appealing. But the average innkeeper doesn’t seem to know when to stop. As a result, one isn’t sure when one awakens whether one has been snoozing in a B&B; or a knickknack shop.

Heaven knows I’ve spent my fair share of time in B&Bs;, some appealing, others less than rewarding. There was the B&B; in Mendocino, for example, with a shower that sprayed the entire bathroom--not just me. When I complained to the proprietress that there was no hot water, she gave me a look as if I were conspiring to jerk her boarding license.

And then there was this other charming little B&B; where the seat on the commode clattered onto the floor. Wham, just like that. I wasn’t concerned so much that it went scooting helter-skelter across the room. What bothered me was that I was aboard.

Being a private person, I find that a goodly number of B&Bs; provide dismally little privacy. On the other hand, if you’re bored you can always listen to the couple arguing in the next room.

I know of a peach of a B&B; in Northern California with a peach of a bath with a claw-footed tub that rests on a pedestal surrounded by hanging plants. The only trouble, it’s shared by other guests, which makes it difficult to soak with someone banging on the door.

The Exceptions

But there are the exceptions. In Ventura there comes to mind La Mer, a B&B; with five rooms representing five European countries in a charming 1909 Cape Cod-style Victorian overlooking the ocean. La Mer, operated by German expatriate Gisela Baida and husband Mike, provides an abundance of privacy, what with each room featuring an outside entrance.

In compiling a list of the finer B&Bs;, I would be remiss if I didn’t make mention of Molly Lynch’s inviting J. Patrick House in Cambria, Calif. First, you aren’t obliged to share Molly’s home. Instead, guest rooms are found out back in a country house with private baths, individual fireplaces, hooked rugs and rockers. What’s more, Molly doesn’t charge an arm and a leg for shelter in this woodsy, five-star hideaway.

Jane Way, who kicked off this business of B&Bs; in California, says she is alarmed at the direction the industry is headed. Having traveled in England, where she paid a reasonable $15 a night for bed and breakfast, she fears America’s innkeepers are driving guests back to hotels and motels with their prices. Her Sutter Creek Inn, in California’s Mother Lode, is singled out as the prototype of the ideal B&B.;

Surrounded by blood-red roses, hollyhocks, poplars, dogwood and leafy magnolias, the two-story frame home features deep sofas, a fireplace, 19 guest rooms (all with private bath), canopied beds, loads of cheer and what’s considered the best breakfast in the Sierra--all for as little as $58 a night for two.

Lots of Atmosphere

A yellow glow pours from the windows of Jane Way’s Inn and in summertime a breeze carries the fragrance of honeysuckle. Tomatoes hang in fat clumps on vines growing beside the house and guests snooze in hammocks hung beneath magnolias and huge redwoods.

Jane Way knows how to operate a B&B.; She offers an escape from the seven-day-a-week world of stress and tension with a comfortable old-fashioned home with a grandfather clock ticking away the hours, sofas, a cheery fireplace, rooms with comfortable beds and their own baths. Sure, she’s gotten cute with the names, but what the heck. She calls them the Tool Shed, the Miner’s Cabin, the Carriage House, etc.

But the fact remains that they drip with atmosphere and an old-fashioned goodness that attracts travelers from as far away as the East Coast.

I give the same five stars to Gosby House, a splendid Victorian at Pacific Grove, which is just down the road from Carmel. Here fresh fruit and flowers are delivered to guest rooms each morning. Travelers choose between rooms with showers and claw-footed tubs and tastefully selected antiques. Classical melodies waft through the parlor where breakfasts range from red-flanneled hash to sausage pie and eggs. Even in New England, famous for its splendid B&Bs;, the Gosby would take top honors.

Ruffled curtains flutter at the windows and baths are authentically antiqued, with brass fixtures and spotless porcelain. Nineteenth-century prints grace the walls and sunlight filters through leaded windows.

Praise for Jabberwock

Only a few blocks away the Jabberwock gets high praise. And in nearby Monterey the Old Monterey Inn shares similar honors. Its proprietors, Gene and Ann Swett, provide 10 rooms with private baths (seven with wood-burning fireplaces). Gene Swett describes the furnishings as “country funk” and the gardens as “remarkable,” and so are the prices: $110/$165 a night. Not exactly the B&B; that budget travelers have in mind after doing Europe’s bed-and-breakfast circuit.

Still, the Old Monterey Inn is a giveaway compared with prices at Roseholm, an auberge in the foothills of the Ojai Valley where the ransom ranges from $215 to $325 a night. Well, OK, they serve champagne and provide a food basket and there’s high tea in the afternoon and dessert in the evening and a huge breakfast the following morning. And the proprietors feature Jacuzzi tubs and fireplaces. But that’s a lot of scratch, Charlie, and I wouldn’t pay it if they tossed in a Rolls and a goose stuffed with caviar.

No matter how charming the inn, however, the proprietor should reveal a bit of warmth. I recall a couple of innkeepers in Ashland, Ore., who appeared like spooks in a Transylvania murder mystery. I saw the old lace, but I kept asking myself where in hell they’d hidden the arsenic.

Inn in Sacramento

On the other hand I enjoyed Morning Glory, which is a rambling, two-story B&B; crowded with brass fixtures, Victorian wall prints, lace curtains and old-time sofas in Sacramento. Besides the proprietress, it was occupied by six cats, two birds, a turtle, an Airedale and a friendly ghost. Old trunks were scattered throughout the house along with a piano, Tiffany lamps and a genuine 19th-Century fainting couch.

When I put in my appearance, the mistress of Morning Glory was doing breakfasts of apple walnut waffles, nut breads with cream cheese, quiche and other delights.

“Let me feed someone just once,” she boasted, “and they’ll keep coming back.”

This innkeeper does weddings and caters dinners. Other B&B; operators do bar mitzvahs, birthdays and anniversaries. Morning Glory’s neighbor for one, Aunt Abigail’s. Frequently the entire two-story Victorian is turned over to wedding parties. The bride descends the staircase while a string ensemble cranks out sentimental melodies in the parlor.

And then there’s the dude up along the Northern California coast who got himself ordained as a mail-order minister, simply for the sake of attracting new business.

For travelers who can’t make it to Britain this year, the alternative is a weekend at Pelican Inn at Muir Beach. Although barely 20 minutes beyond the Golden Gate, the Pelican is as British as shepherd’s pie, bangers, scones and Yorkshire pudding, which are served around a cozy fire. The Pelican never was really classified as a B&B;, not with its leaded windows, half-tester beds, garden fresh flowers and a bar where guests play darts while sipping mulled wine, mead and cider.

Noisy Neighbors

My primary complaint about the genuine B&B; involves the noisy neighbors. I booked a room once at a New Orleans B&B; just off Bourbon Street and caught a couple of acts coming from gin mills a few doors away without ever getting out of bed.

One of the endearing B&Bs; of Northern California, the Casa Madrona at Sausalito, can no longer be classified as such. In the beginning the original old home, on a hillside overlooking the Bay, was simply soaked in charm. Rooms featured lace curtains and brass beds; occasionally deer would peer from the garden while gulls wheeled overhead as fog swept in, obscuring the Golden Gate. Although the old home remains, new units have been scattered down the hillside until now Casa Madrona is a big-time operation.

Bargains still remain in the B&B; game. Often, though, one must go far afield. On Prince Edward Island in Canada it’s possible to catch a few winks for about $20 a night at several B&Bs; that have joined ranks. And in New Zealand a group has gotten together to offer shelter in a series of inns for as little as $49 for six entire nights.

It’s here at home that things have gotten out of hand. Put out a shingle, install a four-poster, an armoire and a cookie jar beside the bed and there you have it, your own B&B.; And with prices of $90 a night or more.

If I must sleep in a bed with a mattress that sinks like a hammock and slip down the hall to the biffy, then I’m going to give serious consideration to a motel with central heating, its own bath and a telephone so that I can call room service. I’ll order bacon and eggs and tell the waiter, “Please--hold the croissants.”