In your wildest dreams, can you imagine buying swampland in Florida, building a castle out of aluminum printing plates, filling it with “art” and then charging admission for tours? No, me either. But that’s what you get at Solomon’s Castle.
Howard Solomon was born in New Jersey, spent a little time in St. Petersburg and then seven years in the Bahamas, before he settled in Ona, Florida in 1972. The guide said he searched extensively for the perfect piece of land. So if he ended up in a swamp that floods with every big storm (seven feet inside the castle with Hurricane Ian), you kinda get the picture he didn’t have terrific business instincts – well, not with real estate at least. Self-promotion is a horse of a different color. And then, of course, you have to wonder, why stay?
The basic tour is $30. Ordinarily, I’d tell you there’s more, and maybe better, art for $27 at the Dali Museum, or $18 at the Chihuly Collection, or even $15 at the Tampa Museum of Art (senior prices). But for sheer entertainment value, you can’t beat Solomon’s Castle. It’s, hands down, the craziest tour I’ve ever been on.
When I arrived, I was told I’d need to go up the boat’s ramp, through the restaurant, down the gangplank on the other side and into the gift shop to purchase my ticket. That accomplished, I returned to the benches in front of the castle to find there were three people who’d been sitting there for almost 45 minutes waiting for the tour to start. The lady who’d directed me to the gift shop, as it turns out, was the tour guide. When I commented that I’d been unsure when I should arrive because there were no times listed on the website, she said they started when they had enough people. Hmmm. Four? Maybe eight? A dozen? Could just be me, but I think maybe the organization and clarity of the website needs some work.
We were not allowed to photograph anything inside. Don’t ask me why. But here’s what I can tell you: Solomon wrote the script the tour guides were supposed to follow and it included a joke for almost every item we were shown. The first 5 were funny; after that, they became trite. I’ll give you two examples. There was a scrap metal car he’d created that had two bonnets (no trunk section) and the joke was that you’d never have to worry about a backseat driver, and you’d always know where you’d been.
There was also half of an Egyptian barge affixed to a wall. The guide asked, “Why only half?” Answer: because Cleopatra lost the other half in the divorce settlement. Ok cute, but when you’ve already heard 25 or 30 jokes, it’s not quite as funny, trust me. And it’s hard to take the artwork seriously when every piece has a joke to go with it.
We meandered through a series of “galleries” that showcased scrap metal pieces and figurines made out of parts from discarded car radiators, ball bearings, bicycle chains, etc; replicas of famous paintings he’d recreated with hundreds of pieces of wood; baby animals (like a life-size giraffe) made from coat hangers; and stained glass pieces he designed and cast himself. Clever? Yes. Art? The jury is still out. The guide said he was known as the “Da Vinci of debris.” Da Vinci might just be a tad overstated. I was a dancer in Vegas for over a decade but damned if I’d bill myself as the Alicia Alonso of Las Vegas.
The tour includes a glimpse of his living room and kitchen. They seemed cramped and reminiscent of the 1950s. In the living room, our guide pointed out a car he’d carved at the age of four and an inlaid wood box he’d made at nine. He apparently was tossed out of school numerous times throughout his youth, the last time being two weeks before high school graduation. I’m putting my money on undiagnosed ADHD.
The outside of the castle showcases some of the 80 stained glass panes, all with themes – zodiac signs, fairy tales, seasons, and planets. And there’s also the balcony where he would hold court from time to time, expounding on favorite subjects. I’m guessing real estate wasn’t one of them.
At the completion of the castle tour, I decided to stick around and sample the food in the “boat in the moat,” billed as “world famous” on their brochure and menu. The BBQ pulled pork sandwich was decent but, I must say, the potato salad was exceptional.
The guide had indicated that Solomon wanted to build a restaurant in the swampy area and call it the boat in the moat. She said he built it himself, dropping in all the pilings on his own. It’s attached to a separate seating area and a lighthouse.
Get ready for the joke. The tour guide said they hadn’t lost a ship since they’d built the lighthouse.
I wouldn’t have thought twice about the pilings except that I noticed the floor seemed to be moving slightly. Before having lunch, I’d asked if I could explore the path behind the boat. I’d been told that would not be possible because the bridge spanning the moat area had been pulled up and moved several feet during Hurrican Ian. Now I wondered if the pilings had also been damaged. I decided not to linger over coffee.
I trooped back to the gift shop to pay my bill and then headed down a path on the front side of the boat that looked accessible and promising.
I discovered a life-size replica of the Alamo (perhaps Solomon’s personal joke about the swampland being his last stand?), a lovely home I think belongs to his son, and an expansive green pasture.
Here’s my final verdict: I found the tour to be expensive, but the food is good and the whole place is so wacky that it’s thoroughly entertaining. So, yes, go.
- 4533 Solomon Rd., Ona, Florida
- 863-494-6077
- Open Tuesday through Sunday 10:00 AM – 4:00 PM but closed August and September
- http://www.solomonscastle.com
Lisa Browder 
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