Remembering Alves Dairy: Part II

(Photo: A view of the drive-in part of Alves Dairy: )

In February 1978 Alves Dairy sold its last bottle of delicious chocolate milk. I interviewed owner Ernie Alves a few days before the famous south of Half Moon Bay dairy closed down forever. We stood outside the 1950s-style drive-in dairy and talked about the history of the Alves family and the dairy.

Part II

Ernie Alves struck me as a guy who knew everything about farming so I was amazed when he confessed, “As far as cows go, strange as it sounds, I have never milked a cow until a month ago. I’ve always been in processing. I had to give our milker a day off, so my wife, my daughter and I milked the cows. I guess we’ve done it about three times now.”

1977-78 had been a rough year for the Alves family. His brother Frank was driving the dairy’s van back from Pescadero when he was involved in an accident. Frank’s injuries included a twisted neck and broken back.

Ernie: It took three men to replace Frank. This last year has been one madhouse as far as I’m concerned.

That was one of the reasons the Alves family decided to close the dairy, lease the land and sell the cows.

Ernie’s ancestors immigrated from the Azore Islands, settling in Pescadero in the 1800s. The family produced cheese at the rustic Willowside Ranch on a stretch of scenic Stage Road marked by a grove of mammoth eucalyptus trees.

(Is this the colorful Willowside Ranch? photo by Suzanne Meek)

Ernie: My father told me that when he drove the cheese by wagon from Pescadero to Watsonville, they had to time it. By the time they got to Waddell Bluff, it had to be low tide or else there would be no beach.

The Alves family moved operations north to Half Moon Bay in the 1890s.

Ernie: My father knew it was noon when the stagecoach rumbled by–he was plowing the fields then.

About 1923 Ernie’s father gave up cheesemaking and purchased a lovely Victorian house on Kelly Avenue in Half Moon Bay.

(Photo: In the 1970s M/M Alves stand in front of their Victorian house on Kelly Ave, formerly known as the “Ben Cunha” house .

Ernie: Then we took one cow and somebody wanted milk. Pretty soon we had two cows, then three cows. When they got too large for back of the house, the cows were moved down to where the Little League fields are.

A decade later a barn was built with a room to bottle raw milk.

Ernie (a student at the time): We had a walk-in box and the whole bit.

Ten more years raced by and a bigger barn was built. The Alves converted a building near the Victorian house into a processing plant. The milk was carried in 10-gallon cans from the ranch (the Little League fields) to the plant.

Ernie: The way I remember that the plant was built in 1941 is that we had two bricklayers, and it was December of ’41 when we started it. The war had begun. Highway 1 wasnot here as you see it now: Main Street was Highway 1.

Electioneering

Coastside County Water District Candiate Jim Marsh outside El Granada Post Office this morning:

Great quote Marsh found from Mark Twain:

“Gold is worth fightin’ for,
Water is worth dyin’ for”

New Look

Neighbor/realtor Carole Delmar has added her picture to her for sale signs.

Carole at our Easter Garden Party (2005)

Our Cows Are Outstanding In Their Fields: Remembering Alves Dairy, Part I

The Famous Sign, Now Gone: (Reminder: Click on any image to enlarge)

A few days before the famous Alves Dairy closed down in February 1978, I spoke to owner Ernie Alves. The 150-acre dairy, marked by its 1950s style drive-in store, specialized in delicious chocolate milk. More extraordinary was the funny marquee that always turned heads: “Our Cow Are Outstanding In Their Fields”.

Ernie (modestly) : It’s sort of a landmark. I’ve read articles in magazines where they said, ‘go as far as the dairy, then turn right to go to the beach.’ Ernie

June: Did you think up the catchy slogan?

Ernie: No, my son discovered it in Iowa.

June: What’s the secret of your chocolate milk?

Ernie: Everybody knows our chocolate milk. It’s whole milk. If you buy chocolate, and it says ‘drink’, it’s either nonfat or lowfat and the butter fat isnot there. The consistency is like watr. We use whole milk, quality chocolate and pure sugar.

June: Tell me about the cows? Are they special?

Ernie: Cows aren’t just cows. Each one has a personality. You’d be surprised. ‘Bayshore Dotty’ is the boss. Her name was Dotty but her number is 101 and somehow ‘Bayshore’ got thrown in. You know ‘Bayshore Dotty’ because if you do something in the corral, she’ll be right there. The other cows won’t move, but she is right there. You bring in a new cow and she lets it be known she’s the boss. They have their pecking order.

June: Any other cows you can tell me about?

Ernie: Chicken Little, now that cow is a nervous wreck. You touch her and she jumps.

Charlie Nye & The Reefs: Part I

There was a time when you’d mosey on over to the foggy Coastside and head north to Moss Beach and walk around the tidepools of the Fitzgerald Marine Reserve–and if you were the curious type you’d find a very unusual house at Nevada and Beach Streets– decorated with abalone seashells on the exterior that spelled out “Nye’s Reef’s II”.

This place with the abalone shells was an instant draw.

Knock on the door and you’d discover this is where Charlie Nye lived, an eccentric, loveable guy who opened up his home to visitors whenever he felt like it.

His father, also called Charlie Nye, had been the famous owner of a popular restaurant, featuring his special clam chowder recipe–but his son didn’t follow in his father’s footsteps. Usually wearing a black turtleneck, Charlie Nye, Jr. had one of those small refrigerators, a couple of feet tall, and if you were thirsty he’d offer you a soft drink. That’s as close as he got to the restaurant business.

Charlie Nye, Jr. inside “The Reefs II” in 1980photo by June

Charlie’s house was a charming one-of-a-kind– jam-packed with all kinds of old stuff including an antique piano which he played and overstuffed furniture and beach memorabilia and lots of dust .

It was a treat to spend an hour with Charlie.

He loved to chat and talk about his father who came to the Coastside after the Spanish-American War in 1898. “It was the one place he found where he didn’t suffer from remittent malaria,” Charlie told me.

His father settled in at Moss Beach and was introduced to the ambitious Harr Wagner, a San Francisco publisher and land developer who was trying to establish an artist’s colony in Montara. Wagner’s wife was Madge Morris, a published poet–and for the artist’s colony to succeed it was critical that the Ocean Shore Railroad do so, too.

But the timing of the building of the railroad was way off-track–the Ocean Shore Company couldn’t have had worse luck as the earth- shaking tremors of the catastrophic 1906 earthquake ripped up the work that had been done on Devil’s Slide and tossed expensive equipment and rails into the Pacific Ocean.

Not only were they way behind schedule, this was a financial disaster for the railroad, one that the Ocean Shore never recovered from. The railroad’s failure also threatened the success of a famous Moss Beach resort owned by Jurgen Wienke, also known as “the Mayor of Moss Beach”. (There is a street leading to the ocean named after him).

Guests arrived by horse and carriage at Wienke’s Hotel which was his sprawling home and gardens. His wife and daughter acted as hostesses to a bevy of famous guests including Stanford’s president. On the sandy beach below Wienke’s hotel, he constructed a small building with a deck–a seafood restaurant, a place where boats could be rented.

But once the locals surveyed the damage to the railroad at Devil’s Slide, the sound of misfortune filled the air.

Charlie Nye, Jr. told me, unlike the others, his father saw good luck in disguise.

Earlier times: Inside “The Reefs”

Aaarrrghhh

Yesterday morning I left the house on time for an appointment–but then I got on Hwy 92:

You know the feeling:

But there was nothing I could do about it:

I thought I’d been stuck because of an accident but, no, it was the orange flag that made me 30 minutes late for an appointment:

Yeah, I’m complaining. Two weeks ago my boyfriend gets rear-ended on Hwy 1 and I learn that it’s very common these days to get rear-ended on Hwy 1 during morning commute–and then I get on Hwy 92, I’m on time, and — I get stuck in an endless line of traffic and I’m late, very late.

We might as well post insurance reps on the highway to settle damages–or maybe issue a disclaimer to anyone moving here along these lines: Yes, this is paradise–but you’ll probably face a line of cars on your way to work andyou might eeven get rear-ended.

This is getting to the point of ridiculousness. We’ve known about the problem as for years now more folks have been moving to the Coastside than there are roads to accommodate their vehicles, not to forget visitors from other places. You know, the tourists, the surfers, the walkers and bikers. The people who support our businesses.

More importantly, what happens if there is an earthquake?