Phoenix Eyes a Crumbling Mansion, Sees an Urban Icon

In one of the urban desert’s last open spaces, what looks like a three-tiered yellow wedding cake sits atop a hill, guarded by more than 500 stately saguaros.

Since its completion in 1929, the informal city landmark has come to be known as Tovrea Castle, an unusual palace shrouded in mystery--its story often known only through a web of rumors.

Most visitors, and even some lifelong Phoenix residents, drive past it each day, ignorant of the castle’s history and especially of its future. Few have seen what’s nestled behind the property’s private iron gates.

The city of Phoenix hopes to change that.

“It has the makings to become the icon of the Valley. We don’t have an arch or a Space Needle. And what other city has a castle?” said former Mayor John Driggs, who is spearheading the city’s effort to gobble up the remaining precious property surrounding Tovrea Castle.

Phoenix bought the building and 18 of its surrounding acres in 1993 with money from a 1989 voter-approved bond. But now city officials are racing against possible bids by developers to purchase the remainder of the 43-acre property.

If successful, the city plans to restore the cactus garden and decaying building to open a historic park that could be used for special events, tours and convention groups. One developer hopes to build an office complex on three acres it has in escrow adjacent to the castle.

The land is tempting to developers because it’s close to Sky Harbor International Airport and surrounded by freeways that lead to downtown Phoenix, Scottsdale and Tempe.

“It’s so vital to protect the perimeter of this project for it to have any real meaning or use,” Driggs said. “If you don’t have the land, you’ve lost the whole impact of the property.”

Climbing the castle’s wooden stairwells one winter morning, the maple floors echoing between the cracked stucco walls, Driggs tries to show visitors why he believes that to be so.

From the castle’s top tier, he marvels at the 360-degree view of Phoenix, pointing out the city skyline, the bright red buttes of Papago Park and the distinct outline of Camelback Mountain, which looks pretty much like its namesake.

Industrial buildings, apartment complexes and billboards have replaced the sheep that grazed nearby decades ago.

The castle was conceived by Italian immigrant Alessio Carraro in the late 1920s as a hotel and centerpiece for a luxury residential development. It was built based on drawings Carraro scratched out in the sand for the builders.

When meatpacking magnate E.A. Tovrea bought 40 acres next door and put up sheep pens, Carraro gave up his development dream, figuring no one would still want to buy a home there. Tovrea and his wife, Della, bought the hotel in 1931 and made it their home.

Tovrea died two years later, but his widow lived in the castle until her death in 1969.

About half the 12 Tovrea heirs--some of them now living outside Arizona--are anxious to sell the remaining land to the first willing buyer, said Tovrea’s great-grandson, Philip Tovrea III.

“It’s been handed down, and to them it’s just an asset they’re continually paying on. Like any other asset, they’d like to take the money and invest in their own lives,” Tovrea said, calling the property taxes “astronomical.”

“I think the heirs would do anything they could that was reasonable to preserve it . . . but they have to have a commitment from the city,” Tovrea said.

That will require approval of a $753.9-million bond issue set to go before voters in March.

The program, which would allow the city to issue bonds for fire stations, police stations and historic preservation projects, would designate $2.5 million for Tovrea Castle’s exterior restoration. The City Council on Nov. 28 approved that money for land acquisition and tossed in an additional $2 million from a non-earmarked $7-million restoration fund.

A total of $5.3 million would be available immediately, including $800,000 left over from the 1989 bond.

Councilman Greg Stanton, whose district includes the castle, said voters won’t be forced to choose between public safety items and cultural projects because the bond packages are offered separately.

“I think the public understands the importance of preserving history for future generations,” Stanton said. “The castle would lose its essence if there is too much development in the area.”

If the castle were restored and opened, the public could finally uncover the secret truths hidden behind the peeling yellow paint and green-trimmed windows, Stanton said.

Rumors circulate about the death of Della Tovrea, who fired a bullet through the kitchen ceiling during an apparent burglary. The intruders bound her and beat her so badly she eventually died in a hospital.

Driggs points out the crumbling kitchen ceiling during a private tour. The half-dollar-sized bullet hole remains more than 30 years later.

He runs his fingers through the dust on the 1930s art deco paintings that decorate the front entry and dining room. Sunlight streams in from three directions through windows that frame panoramic views of the Phoenix valley.

As Driggs passes through the second and third floors, his hands turning old-fashioned glass doorknobs, he comments on the original drapery hanging in front of the eight bedroom windows. The curtains are tattered and stained and will one day be replaced, he said.

“It’s whimsical--our own crazy little castle,” he said. “In its heyday, it was quite a place.”