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FROM NOVELIST TO PHILOSOPHER, 1944–1957
of Los Angeles would boom in the postwar years once the price of gas
declined. The distant ranch would appreciate sharply in value, he correctly
gambled. Previously home to the director Joseph von Sternberg
and the actress Marlene Dietrich, the house was extraordinary by any
measure. Rand’s offi ce was on the ground fl oor, with glass doors that
opened to a private patio. The master bedroom was set apart on the
upstairs fl oor. Adjoining it was a mirrored bathroom and a roof pool
that Frank fi lled with exotic fi sh. The open two-story living room was
an arresting space, painted brilliant blue and dominated by a towering
philodendron tree with leaves that Frank meticulously polished.
Birds fl ew in and out of the house, and outside was a spacious patio that
could hold two hundred people. The house was encircled by a goldfi shfi
lled moat, lined by Japanese hyacinths. “Elemental in form, dynamic
in color . . . designed for sun, steel and sky,” enthused House and Garden
in a four-page spread about the property that prominently featured Ayn
and Frank. 20
The house meant far more to Frank than an investment. Reinventing
himself as a gentleman farmer, he grew lush gardens on their land and
raised a fl ock of peacocks. In true individualist fashion the birds were
not shut up in cages but fl ew shrieking about the property. Frank’s
agricultural dabbling soon revealed a true talent for horticulture. The
fi elds fi lled with bamboo, chestnuts, pomegranate trees, and blackberry
bushes. In a greenhouse he bred delphiniums and gladiolas and over the
years developed two new hybrids, one called Lipstick and another called
Halloween. He supervised a small staff of Japanese gardeners and in the
high season opened a roadside vegetable stand to sell excess produce.
After one of his employees taught him fl ower arranging he began selling
gladiolas to Los Angeles hotels. 21 No longer living in Rand’s shadow,
Frank’s talents drew admiration from his neighbors and customers.
Within the household, however, Frank continued to carefully defer to
Ayn. Deep in concentration, she was often shocked to discover that he
had silently glided into the house to tend the fl owers or deliver the latest
crop. At her request he agreed to wear a small bell on his shoe so she
could hear him come and go. The rhythm of daily life revolved around
her writing. She worked in the downstairs study with her door fi rmly
shut and instructions to be left alone. A few days a week a secretary came
in and took dictation. The house was large enough to accommodate
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