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Julia stepped out of her tent after dawn and marveled at the sight before her, a sloping hill covered with wildflowers, a pristine beach and unlimited view. Bill was a catch, no doubt about it. But his proposal had taken her by surprise. Now having slept on it. Julia was still undecided.

Bill was the kind of guy who believed a man's home was his castle.

Which begs the question, did Bill see himself as a king? If so, what did that make her bill's happy little homemaker? Coincidentally and fortuitously, Julia held in her hands a copy of yesterday's San Francisco Examiner, which Bill had left on her suitcase. On the front page. Just below the fold was an article entitled Rules and Advice for Wives wasn't really an article.

It was more like a public service announcement printed for the edification of America's aspiring homemakers. Did he intend for her to see these rules before he popped the question?

Julia didn't know, but she perused the rules. Nevertheless, one don't be extravagant. Nothing appeals more strongly to a man than the prospect of his own economic independence to keep your home clean.

Nothing is more refreshing to the eyes of the tired, nerve wracked husband than the sight of a well tidied home.

Three Do not permit your person to become unattractive.

A slovenly wife makes for a truant husband. Well thought, Julia. Rule number one shouldn't pose a problem. Her taste were sophisticated, but so too were bills. Surely the purchase of a few nice things wouldn't threaten his masculinity.

Likewise. Rule number two, she was all for keeping a clean house.

But did Bill really expect her to be dusting and vacuuming? Surely a man with resources like his would spring for a maid.

Regarding rule number three, Julia understood the importance of appearances. Hers would be maintained regardless of their future.

Together, rule number four do not receive attention from other men. Husbands are often jealous without cause. Do not give them cause.

I actually thought, Julia, that wasn't horrible advice. Bill was possessive and made no secret of it. She knew all about the phone calls he'd made before popping the question.

Pointed calls to specific men with whom she had a history.

If she said yes to Bill, rule number four might be worth heeding.

Rule number five do not resent reasonable discipline of children by their father. Mothers should not assume that all chastisement is severe or unjustifiable, not an issue, thought Julia.

Bill already had five kids. Six, if you believe the rumors, if he wanted to slap them around, that was none of her business.

Rule number six do not spend too much time with your mother, for in so doing you may spend too little time at home.

No worries there. If she said yes, Bill would become her priority. A simple fact she and her mother would have to accept.

Rule number seven do not accept advice from neighbors. Have a plan of your own to solve all home related problems. Neighbors thought Julia what neighbors? Julia doubted there would be any neighbors at all.

As for a plan of her own, that was a given.

Julia never did anything without a plan. Rule number eight never disparage your husband. That's funny, thought Julia. Bill was basically in the disparagement business. What nasty thing could she possibly say that hadn't been said already? A thousand times. Rule number nine, smile. Be attentive in little things. An indifferent wife is often supplanted by an ardent mistress. Julia snorted. Bill had a mistress and everyone knew it as well as a wife. But Julia understood attention to detail.

Indeed, it was her obsession with the little things that had attracted Bill in the first place. Rule number 10 be feminine.

Men do not mind coaxing, but they resent coercion.

Femininity attracts them. Masculinity in the female repels.

Julia snorted even louder this time, she knew that certain men were impervious to feminine wiles, just as certain women were immune to the charms of men. It was a fact to which she could personally attest.

And yet here she was, a single woman who'd been whisked away to this most romantic of locations to ponder a proposal from a married man with a mistress who'd promised to make all of her dreams come true.

Bill emerged from his tense, holding two cups of coffee, Julia folded the newspaper and tucked it under her arm. They stood together in silence, sipping coffee, admiring the wildflowers, the beach and the Pacific location, location, location, said Bill. It is a good one. Agree, Julia. Have you come to a decision? Said Bill. I have said, Julia, she turned to face Bill, who owned the newspaper tucked under her arm, she considered his reputation, his pension for yellow journalism, for printing wild rumors and spurious gossip.

She also considered his budget. Are you sure you want me? Julia asked.

You know I'm not your typical homemaker, Bill grinned. I don't want a typical homemaker, he said. I want to build a home with you. She took a deep breath and nodded. OK, Julia said, let's do it. And so they did right there on a sloping hill covered with wildflowers as the wild Pacific crashed on the rocks off in the distance.

As always, Julia began with a plan when construction ended. Three decades later, Bill's family campground had been transformed into 123 acres of gardens, terraces, pools and walkways, a zoo filled with exotic creatures.

And in the center of it all, a new home with one hundred and sixty five separate rooms designed by the homemaker who'd had the good sense to accept Bill's proposal.

No, not a marriage proposal, a business proposal, a proposal to build a home unlike any other made to the first female architect licensed by the state of California, a woman who left behind 700 unique buildings and homes, all marked by her tireless attention to detail and unwavering commitment to satisfy her many clients.

Say what you want about Bill. Back in 1919, when America believed a woman's place was in the home, he hired a homemaker to build one, a woman who shared his belief that a man's home was his castle, in this case, a castle by the sea built by an architect named Julia Morgan and named for the king who lived there, a king of media named William Randolph Hearst. Anyway, that's the way I heard. The story you just heard is true, at least the way I heard it.

Thank you, Chuck Klausmeier, for producing this podcast. Matthew Zipkin, thank you for hitting the buttons over here at one union recording studios. Thank you, gentle listener, for listening. And if you haven't subscribed and you would prefer not to miss a new episode, consider yourself officially invited to do that very thing. Talk to you next week.