A Bit of S.D. History Rises From Ashes

Jesse Shepard was a musician who played the piano beautifully, without being able to read or write a note of music. He loved painting and sculpture and appreciated the cultures of not only the Far East and Middle East, but also of Europe and Latin America.

He served an odd but distinguished role in the history of San Diego: He was brought here to be the city’s culture.

He came to San Diego in 1887 at the request of several prominent local residents, who felt their booming little city lacked one important ingredient: culture.

Shepard had been entertaining royalty in the palaces of Europe. He sang solos at High Mass in the cathedral at Baden Baden. He played at the Consertorium in Cologne and the Conservatoire in Paris. He played for the Czar of Russia. But then he sailed to San Diego, lured, many believe, by the promise of a house being built in his honor.

Built in Golden Hill

That house became the Villa Montezuma, 1925 K St. in Golden Hill. On March 18 of last year, the three-story house was ravaged by fire when a space heater was left unattended.

No one was killed or injured in the blaze, not even Psyche, the Villa’s plump house cat. But restoration cost $700,000.

For the first time since that night, the Villa Montezuma will be reopened to the public at 1 p.m. today.

It was bought by representatives of the San Diego Historical Society in 1969 and opened for public viewing in 1972. Since then, it has hosted exhibits for black artists (their works were destroyed in the fire), offered a sexy look at women’s underwear in the Victorian era (“Down Under and Up Tight”) and been made available to neighborhood children for after-school play.

Visitors will see some changes: More of an eclectic Jesse Shepard look in new furnishings and less of what curator Cindy Eddy called “a Victorian hodgepodge.” High-heeled shoes are now strictly prohibited, because of the threat they pose to gleaming hardwood floors.

Modern Features

Comfort and safety are now compatible, Eddy said, with the installation of central heating and air conditioning and a high-tech fire alarm system, paid for by the City of San Diego.

Eddy, who doubles as an avid authority on the life and times of the Byronesque Shepard, said the staff is “excited” about the rededication but “eternally grateful to the gods” for sparing the home from destruction.

“The Fire Department said that if they’d arrived two minutes later, the house would have been destroyed,” she said. “That would have been an awesome tragedy.”

Shepard oversaw the design and construction of the house, and made sure that the worlds of art and music were properly memorialized. He also was drawn to dualities. Etched in one window of stained glass, in the east end of the house, is a likeness of Sappho, the goddess of love and symbol of the Pagan world. In the west end, the Christian St. Cecelia can be found playing the organ in her world of stained glass.

One window represents a knight from the Orient (East), meeting a knight from the Occident (West). On one wall are stained-glass likenesses of Renaissance painters Raphael and Rubens, and on the opposite wall are Shepard’s favorite composers, Mozart and Beethoven (fine art versus music, Eddy said).

Ironically, Shepard stayed in San Diego a mere 20 months. Living lavishly (and causing controversy among those who opposed his seances), he ran up huge debts. Ultimately, he mortgaged the house to pay his way to Paris, where he hoped to have a book published (and later did). The Villa Montezuma was transferred from owner to owner for many years, Eddy said, until the historical society finally sought to save the home and have it designated as part of the National Registry of Historic Places.

The villa is 100 years old this month, and in commemoration of both rebirth and centennial, Eddy said hostesses at today’s gathering would wear Victorian costumes, while a pianist serenades passers-by. Unfortunately, she said, Shephard never committed any of his compositions to paper, so none of those can be played.

He was a psychic, she said, who believed his gift for music came from the spirits of the greats. Despite his history and obvious eccentricity, visitors are often disappointed to learn, Eddy said, that the Villa is not haunted.

“No deaths,” she said, “ever. And thank God for that.”