La Jolla’s iconic Mushroom House is now a public nuisance and graffiti canvas. Its future is anyone’s guess

For each fresh coat of beige paint, five defiant tags appear overnight.

A back-and-forth battle is unfolding between locals who treat La Jolla’s Mushroom House as public space and the property’s owner, who the city requires to take care of it — including regularly removing graffiti.

“It’s an iconic structure of the history of Blacks Beach, and a problem for the community,” said Buzz Woolley, the local philanthropist who owns the property. “The City of San Diego requires I board it up and remove the graffiti. People are upset, but it’s the law.”

The city considers the Mushroom House a public hazard and a public nuisance, arguing it attracts criminal behavior, makes the neighborhood unsafe, and increases fire risk. Since Woolley is obligated to cover maintenance and cleanup, he’s hired a local construction company and installed security cameras to combat the nightly defacings.

“They’ve pried the front gate off, ripped apart the walls, and lit bonfires with the building materials,” said Heath Akers, vice president of GDC Construction.

“Everybody seems to think it’s a public attraction and it’s not,” he added. “We painted over graffiti, cleaned up debris from parties, and boarded up the big openings, which were fall hazards. You get no help from the authorities — it’s in too remote a location for anyone to get down and respond.”

The tourist magnet sits at the southernmost end of Blacks Beach, below La Jolla’s steep, rocky cliffs — a location that makes law enforcement access difficult.

The Mushroom House has a rich 58-year history. Originally called the Bell Pavilion, it was designed by architect Dale Nagel as a guest house for General Mills heir Sam Bell.

Its most defining feature is the “mushroom,” a circular concrete slab that hosts the living area. While the architecture is striking, boldly standing out against the vibrant, rocky coastline, recent years have seen the house fall into disrepair. 

Things took a turn for the worse in 2022. The unstable cliffs behind the house gave way, sending sandstone crashing and damaging the building and the 300-foot elevator that connected the main and guest houses.

“The difficulty of repairing it is the permits; it’s also extremely difficult to repair,” Woolley said.

“They started down the road of trying to repair the elevator, but were stopped by the city and Coastal Commission,” Akers said. 

The Coastal Commission regulates any construction within the state’s coastal zone, creating another level of approval needed for any development near state tidelands.

The elevator remains broken.

An investigation by the city’s Development Services Department in 2024 determined that the beach-level unit was essentially abandoned several years ago. 

“Initial graffiti started a few years later,” the report reads. “It is now a social media-fueled hotspot. It has become a very attractive nuisance.”

Online rumors swirled after the first coat of beige paint went up on the colorful, tag-covered walls. People speculated the house was being renovated into a lifeguard tower. 

“The rumors are unfounded, which is such a bummer because it would be cool, but no, this is private property,” said Candace Hadley, a San Diego Fire-Rescue and Lifeguards spokesperson.

Richard Berg, a spokesperson for development services, said there is no active building permit or construction at the address. 

“There is a permit for them to clean up debris and board up the windows, but nothing that says ‘hey, we’re renovating!’” he said.

GDC Construction confirmed it is not constructing or renovating anything. It is leading the ongoing cleanup effort. 

Crews began work the week of Feb. 9, hauling away piles of broken glass, bonfire debris, and discarded cans of Twisted Tea. 

The first coat of paint went up on Feb. 12. Within a week, defiant graffiti artists added multiple tags to the fresh canvas.

“Dale Nagel, the architect, designed the house to withstand the strongest forces of nature: earthquakes, landslides, floods, and, of course, teenagers,” Akers said. 

But teenagers are proving to be a lingering problem, he said.

“You have a desolate, remote location with not a lot of eyes on you,” Akers said. “It’s really easy to hop over that wall and do whatever you want.”

Woolley is now mired in a cleanup cycle — fresh paint followed by fresh graffiti. He said the Mushroom House’s future is up in the air.

“Pre-existing structures can be maintained, but not enlarged,” Woolley said. “If we wanted to do anything major, we would need permission from the city and the Coastal Commission. What we end up doing with it is absolutely unknown.”

GDC Construction will continue to send down crews to repaint, clear debris, and evict trespassers.

It’s not all graffiti artists and vandals. Often, curious beachgoers make their way to the icon, completely unaware that they are invading private property.

“We show up, tell everyone that it’s private property, and ask them nicely to leave. I have told people that I’ll call the police,” explains Akers. “There is tons of traffic down there — tourists and first-time visitors who don’t know any better. Most have been respectful, but some crazy kids think they’re entitled to it.”

For now, the cleanup continues — fresh paint met with defiance in a public standoff.