Master of the House

Carnesale chats in his living room, which
boasts a grand piano and artwork on the tables and walls. In the
library, which he says is most visitors’ favorite room,
Carnesale admires a clock given to him by students
after a class he taught which students referred to as "Bombs."
Carnesale displays the “Cocina
Jaiteca,” a silkscreen by Lawrence Yañez. The library
hallway frames a 1977 Andy Warhol print of Kareem Abdul-Jabbar.
Carnesale displays the “Cocina
Jaiteca,” a silkscreen by Lawrence Yañez.

By Marcelle Richards
Daily Bruin Senior Staff Chancellor Albert Carnesale ““ the
East Coast man on the West Coast, the boy from the Bronx who could,
the man whose humble beginnings took an unanticipated course
through some of the nation’s most prestigious institutions…
Sigh. The fish-out-of water spiel gets a bit tiring, he admits.
After all, he has been at UCLA for four years and there’s
more to Carnesale than Harvard’s name on his resume. Like the
purple jumpsuit he’s rumored to wear when he runs.
“Purple jumpsuit? The jumpsuit is not purple,” he said.
“It was just the blazing speed that distorted the
color.” Follow him home after one of his four-mile weekend
runs at Drake Stadium and the chancellor’s mystique unwinds
behind the barricade of eucalyptus trees and shrubbery that
surround his 1930 Spanish mission-style home. It’s here that
the chancellor dresses down to his favorite pair of broken-in
Levi’s and savors a bowl of tuna fish he makes himself.
“If someone came to the door, they’d be convinced
someone was robbing the house,” he said. And quite a house it
is. The elongated driveway that parts beds of ivy on both sides
drops no hints of the sight that awaits at the end of its course.
In its own cul-de-sac off Sunset Boulevard, the residence emerges,
removed from the hubbub of traffic. The exterior brick is from
UCLA’s first shipment, used to build the campus’
original buildings. Drawing closer to the entrance, a pair of
potted palms stand watch at the walkway as a fire extinguisher
peeks out from behind the archway. Two choices: the doorbell or the
brass knocker. And then there was Al. “Most people call me
“˜Al,’ except for the ones who mistake me for Pierce
Brosnan,” Carnesale said, pausing as the corners of his mouth
turned into a wry grin. “Actually, I’m still waiting
for that person.” Urbane and reserved upon first meeting, it
doesn’t take long for the chancellor to shed his figurehead
stigma as he slips a quip or two. “He’s very
witty,” said executive vice chancellor Rory Hume, next in
line in power and one of the chancellor’s closest personal
friends. Carnesale’s slightly frazzled white hair gives a
sense of casualness to his navy jacket, gray slacks, yellow tie,
gold cufflinks and polished black leather penny loafers. His
six-foot-plus stature is hardly dwarfed by the lofty surroundings.
“Sharon Davis (wife of Gov. Gray Davis) says one of the most
difficult things to do is build decent public housing, but once you
get it up, it’s not bad,” Carnesale said, pointing
behind his shoulder as he explained that the house was renovated
and redecorated after the 1994 Northridge earthquake. Picassos
juxtapose various impressionist works and Andy Warhol paintings of
Kareem Abdul-Jabbar and Chris Evert. Cherrywood dominates
throughout, though teak is used in moderation. A solitary 1936
Steinway grand piano finds its place in the corner of a
high-ceilinged living room, minimally furnished with sage velour
sofas and stained wood tables. Vases of fresh roses from the garden
meet eyes observant enough to spot them throughout the rooms. A
Persian rug lays dormant on the hardwood floors down a
cupboard-lined hallway to the library ““ the
chancellor’s favorite room ““ where two walls, from
floor to ceiling, are lined with books that have remained on the
shelf long enough to see the succession of chancellors past. More
centrally located, a wrought iron staircase leads upstairs, where
the natural light fades and the ceiling reflects a bluish glow from
the painting on the wall. The dining room is set for 16, around an
antique wooden table with two white beeswax candles in silver
holders. Cream-colored curtains pull away from the six panels of
French doors that line the southern wall to expose a view of the
terrace, a vast expanse of grass and terra cotta-colored tiles that
step down to overlook the pool. The basement makes for an
improvised wine cellar kept stocked for social events. But the
kitchen gets little use. “Tuna fish or bacon and eggs,”
the bachelor said. “That’s about the extent of my
culinary prowess.” His first Thanksgiving at the residence
was shared with his daughter, Kim, and her then-boyfriend,
now-husband, Perry. Carnesale made two suggestions ““ go out
to eat or buy a ready-made meal. “She said, “˜No Dad,
you have to smell Thanksgiving,'” he said, as he
described the ordeal of buying kitchen equipment since he had none.
“It doesn’t take much equipment to make tuna,” he
explained. They made two turkeys and two pumpkin pies hoping that
at least one of each would turn out edible. The holiday with his
daughter brought another thought to mind as he glanced down,
slightly chuckling. At 65, he’s going to be a grandfather.
“I’ll have to check which genes of mine it got so we
can check to see if this kid’s in trouble,” Carnesale
said, letting the chuckle roll into a full belly laugh. As he
quieted, the scientist in him mumbled, as he figured out the
percentage of genes passed on. “If it’s a boy,
I’ll wait at least one year until I play basketball with
him,” the chancellor said. “If it’s a girl …
I’ll have to seek my daughter’s advice.” After
musing over the idea, he reached a conclusion: “If it’s
a girl, she’ll be on the gymnastics team.” But for the
time being, Carnesale will enjoy the revelry he calls his job. The
life of dinners at restaurants, appearances at art gallery openings
and “mandatory” attendance at home games are typical
“duties” the chancellor beholds. Banquets and
gatherings are far from few, ranging from musical performances into
the early hours of the morning, dinners with L.A.’s most
affluent and influential, and appreciation parties beneath a white
tent that extends over the entirety of his backyard. “People
are often looking for the distinction between my profession and my
personal life, and often sympathize that my profession takes so
much of my personal time,” Carnesale said. “But so many
things I do in my capacity as a chancellor are things so many
people would wish to do. This is work?” But behind every man,
there’s a woman. Event director Carol Afshar has worked at
the residence since 1991, initially under then-chancellor Charles
Young. In an office that juts off from the main hall, Afshar makes
arrangements for events and manages the housekeeper and gardener,
and every Christmas, sees to it that the 400 strings of white
lights are hung. “In an event, I’m the first to arrive
and the last to leave,” she said. During a tour, she pointed
out the dining room Baker table, one of the prized antiques in the
home. The furniture is either from the 1930s’ era or at least
looks like it ties in, she said. But the conversation was
interrupted by the sound of feet lunging down the hall. The
chancellor, cheeks slightly flushed, had something to show. In the
kitchen hangs a painting of a kitchen with a painting of a kitchen
within it. Carnesale stood in front of it, rapidly describing how
the picture within a picture surely made the work worth a look.
Then Carnesale bounded down the hall again and positioned himself
in front of the 1958 Felipe Hossiason oil painting on his living
room wall. “The further away you are, the better it
looks,” he said, squinting with his face a foot or two from
the artwork. Without warning, the chancellor hustled back to the
end of the hall to get a better look. The image of him in jeans and
a T-shirt with a bowl of tuna fish seemed to shine through the suit
and tie ensemble within the walls of his home, in the bubble he
calls his “fishbowl.” But the life he leads is probably
harder on the women he dates than it is on him, he said. “I
choose to be in a fishbowl.” Besides, his true love is an
all-American sweetheart just a blender away. “At my last
meal, just before my execution, my last drink would probably be a
vanilla milkshake,” he said. “I don’t dare drink
it as I would like to drink, but I can savor it now as I speak of
it.”

Albert Carnesale walks into the dining room; up
the stairs are the master bedroom, study and guest bedroom. Though
the property includes an expansive backyard with a lawn, swimming
pool, and large patio, the property is not visible from other parts
of campus. Carnesale said he likes to take a dip in the pool to
refresh after jogging. Carnesale chats in his
living room, which boasts a grand piano and artwork on the tables
and walls. In the library, which he says is most visitors’ favorite
room, Carnesale admires a clock given to him by
students after a class he taught which students referred to as
"Bombs." The bricks used in the chancellor’s residence, shown here
around the front door, come from the same brickyard as those used
in Royce Hall.