The Arizona Republic
Jun. 13, 2006 03:31 PM
The story of Tovrea Castle, the birthday-cake dwelling set in a field of cactuses, is an Arizona classic: a tale of grand designs, fleeting passions and quirkiness.
Alessio Carraro, an Italian immigrant who had made his fortune in sheet metal in San Francisco, completed the house in 1930, intending it to be a centerpiece hotel for a plush development in Phoenix to be called Carraro Heights. Its rococo style, it is believed, was based on buildings Carraro had seen in Italy.
A world-traveling author, M. Moktatchev, decorated the grounds with 300 species of cactuses from five countries.
But Carraro quickly became disillusioned with the property, which included 277 acres of land. In 1931, he put the castle and some of the surrounding acreage up for sale, and it was snapped up by Edward A. Tovrea, who operated a slaughterhouse and sheep pens nearby.
Though Tovrea died the following year, leaving his young widow Della in charge of the castle, his name supplanted Carraro's in the designation of the house.
In time, Carraro sold, traded or donated the rest of his original 277 acres and died in 1964 while living by himself in a small trailer in Yarnell.
About four years after Edward Tovrea passed away, his widow married William P. Stuart, publisher of the Prescott Courier. They divided their time between the castle and Prescott until he died in 1960, when Della Tovrea Stuart settled into the castle full time. She died at the age of 80 in 1969, two months after being badly beaten by burglars who broke into the castle and made off with $20,000 to $50,000 in silver, jewelry and cash.
Some now see the castle as a city trademark for Phoenix, much like Coit Tower in San Francisco or the Arch in St. Louis.
Phoenix has owned the castle and some of the property since 1993. Voters approved a bond program to provide $4.5 million to buy more of the site to buffer it from development. Private donations have helped further restore the building and grounds.
Right now, shielding the castle from encroachment remians a priority, said Bill Jacobson, the city's historic preservation planner.
"If office buildings were built around it," he says, "we would lose the iconic image of the castle sitting on a hill in the desert."
Alessio Carraro, an Italian immigrant who had made his fortune in sheet metal in San Francisco, completed the house in 1930, intending it to be a centerpiece hotel for a plush development in Phoenix to be called Carraro Heights. Its rococo style, it is believed, was based on buildings Carraro had seen in Italy.
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A world-traveling author, M. Moktatchev, decorated the grounds with 300 species of cactuses from five countries.
But Carraro quickly became disillusioned with the property, which included 277 acres of land. In 1931, he put the castle and some of the surrounding acreage up for sale, and it was snapped up by Edward A. Tovrea, who operated a slaughterhouse and sheep pens nearby.
Though Tovrea died the following year, leaving his young widow Della in charge of the castle, his name supplanted Carraro's in the designation of the house.
In time, Carraro sold, traded or donated the rest of his original 277 acres and died in 1964 while living by himself in a small trailer in Yarnell.
About four years after Edward Tovrea passed away, his widow married William P. Stuart, publisher of the Prescott Courier. They divided their time between the castle and Prescott until he died in 1960, when Della Tovrea Stuart settled into the castle full time. She died at the age of 80 in 1969, two months after being badly beaten by burglars who broke into the castle and made off with $20,000 to $50,000 in silver, jewelry and cash.
Some now see the castle as a city trademark for Phoenix, much like Coit Tower in San Francisco or the Arch in St. Louis.
Phoenix has owned the castle and some of the property since 1993. Voters approved a bond program to provide $4.5 million to buy more of the site to buffer it from development. Private donations have helped further restore the building and grounds.
Right now, shielding the castle from encroachment remians a priority, said Bill Jacobson, the city's historic preservation planner.
"If office buildings were built around it," he says, "we would lose the iconic image of the castle sitting on a hill in the desert."
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