The Borsini-Burr Gallery (1.877.712.2111/ or, for the website, please click here ) has invited master painter, sculptor & llithographer Michael Parkes to Montara-by-the-Sea the weekend of November 7, 8, 9.
Three days he’s going to be on the Coastside, visiting the historic artist’s colony.
A one-man show, says gallery owner Dianne Borsini-Burr. You’ll see his old work, his new work, and learn things you didn’t know before.
Friday, Saturday and Sunday will feature a different creative event, all WITH the master painter Michael Parkes, AND, chances are, you can talk with him, one-to-one. A weekend of fine art; a good time to invite friends and family to the Coastside.
Burt says, “Ask him about the economy.” but Burt asks everybody that. I say:: “Ask him about the future of art in our culture.” Business and art seem like two universes, don’t they?
I own several wonderful, mood-changing, sometimes mind-stretching pieces of Mr. Parkes’ work. I admire his attention to detail like the balloon-sleeved, striped shirt one character wears, the magical themes, the details within details. Maybe he needs to guard his imagination in a creative vault!
For his beloved daughter’s wedding invitation, the artist drew a plump lotus flower with a very long stem. A couple of feet long, that stem was. When used as a fancy card to be mailed, the work of art was folded to fit. Who doesn’t love receiving original art in an envelope?
The titles of his older paintings (“The Swan King,” “Girl on the flying trapeze”) may give you a hint of Michael Parkes’ vigorous artistic spirit and humor.
One last thing: Let me remind you about the history of Montara-by-the-Sea. In the early 1900s, Montara was home to the historic “Artist’s Colony” founded by San Francisco book publisher Harr Wagner. Poets, painters and musicians–and even a graphologist, better known as a handwriting expert, once lived and worked in the rustic cottages that dotted the rural landscape dominated by magnificent Montara Mountain.
I’m happy to report that the tradition of artists living in Montara-by-the-Sea remains. And I wouldn’t be surprised if master painter Michael Parkes decides to settle down right here.
We wish we could have spent another week, but had a lot of pressing appointments & obligations to get back to (you know how it is). Here is a link to some of our photos:
First stop we made was to visit our friends, the Johnsons, in Truckee. Lloyd & Lissa Johnson used to climb mountains & go rock climbing with Michael, back in the day. Now, Lissa is a teacher and Lloyd is a carpenter who is also an artist. He uses anything he can find to create sculptures, custom bicycles, wagons, and….helmets:
Car-camped two of the nights – the first night in the midst of the Nevada desert, and on the 3rd night, in Grand Tetons National Park. Here is Michael using the Coleman stove that he has had since the 1970s:
Other than that, and the cabin we stayed in while in Yellowstone, we stayed in hotels/motels…I discovered that I simply MUST have proper bathroom facilities nearby. Bu that’s just me.
We traveled through California, Nevada, Utah, Montana, Wyoming, Washington & Oregon. Some of the best things were unexpected.
We went to Rock Springs to check out Michael’s maternal grandparent’s old restaurant, the building of which is still there. We were able to find out some history about Michael’s grandmother that his mom didn’t know, with the help of some researchers at the museum there. Here is Michael in front of the building where his grandparent’s restaurant/market was:
When we entered Wyoming, we were startled to see large billboards advertising the sale of fireworks. Wyoming sells fireworks all year ’round! Not only that, but Michael’s grandmother sold fireworks back in the late 1920s-early 1930s, and shot some off of the roof of their restaurant every “International Day”, which is still celebrated in Wyoming.
History: Michael’s grandmother was a Chinese movie actress, who then married Michael’s grandfather, who came from China through Angel Island (he was kept for 6 months at Angel Island, part of their “quarrantine” of Chinese at the time). After he was released from Angel Island, he wanted to get away from San Francisco, and went as far as his money would take him – which was to Rock Springs. They had 5 children(one of whom was Michael’s mom), and moved back to San Francisco in the ’40s.
More stuff we learned….
In Oregon, you can’t pump your own gas. That is the law. Oregon & New Jersey are the only states in the union where customers are not allowed to pump their own gas. Maybe you already knew this, but we didn’t, when we rolled into our first Oregon gas station. Three young attendants rushed out to the van, to pump the gas and wash the windows, etc. Michael tipped them! We thought that it was some special full-service feature of that particular station.
Washington has huge highway on-ramps, and the best rest areas. Montana is just a huge state, quite beautiful, but goes on forever. At a Chinese restaurant near Butte, we met the owner, originally from San Francisco, who says that it is “very lonely” out there in the vastness of Montana. The people were all very nice. Yes, it truly is “big sky” country. There is a lot of fishing in their many lakes & streams. In fact, during a thunderstorm, Montana fishermen were wading in the water with fishing rods held high. Nothing would keep them from hooking their trout.
Idaho has the most beautiful trees, and the absolute WORST Chinese food ever, if the restaurant we went to is any indication. As far as Utah goes, we have been there before, but the southern end of Utah, which is more stunning, I think, than its north end, which we visited this time. We drove past Salt Lake City, which was the most conjested road of our trip, until we came back to the Bay Area, which was hellish – backed up on the freeway for miles & miles.
In Montana, we visited the Lewis & Clark Caverns. Awesome! We had to walk half a mile up a steep, narrow trail just to get to the entrance of the caverns, then walked up & down (& slid down through a narrow chute at one point) to get through the passsageways.
When we got back home and Michael was looking at what he had shot, he was surprised to see this apparition in one of his cave photos:
We have no explanation for it, but it makes a great Halloween story. We certainly didn’t see it there when we were in the caverns.
Back home, to the “real world”, we had bad news that Michael’s Uncle Calvin died. He was the oldest of the family members who were left who could have remembered many of the things that we learned in Rock Springs, and perhaps filled in some blanks about it all. We had been looking forward to sharing it with him. Just goes to show that we can’t take anything (or anyone) for granted. Uncle Calvin had the full Chinese funeral, along with a parade & band, all over Chinatown, out to Colma & back. That was an experience in itself. I had to bow three times at the grave site after throwing in the flower & dirt.
In any event, that trip is just what we needed! Oh…and one more thing – we did not see one bear or wolf. Not one. Yogi and Boo-Boo were in hiding. I don’t blame them, though. We tourists could be somewhat obnoxious!
Anyway, I have to get back to work now! Take care, & our best to you & Burt,
Need an image of your favorite Coastside beach or lighthouse (Pigeon Point or Montara Fog Signal?) I love Michael’s pre-golf ball shot of Pillar Point.
The Wongs enjoy meeting the customers and they are so very helpful and respectful….Visit them at Spring Mountain Gallery in town, 225 S. Cabrillo Hwy #128c, or click here
The image below is of Half Moon Bay in black and white, near Mill and Main, with the historic concrete bridge in the distance. But no hitching posts in sight–
You asked me about working in the Farm Advisor’s office.
After I graduated from high school and briefly attended UC and then Heald’s Business College, I received a call from a former HMB High School Business teacher, Mrs. Marie Colwell, asking me if I cared to take a job in HMB. Because of family circumstances, one was my father had recently died in a truck accident, I accepted the job in the fall of 1949. The organization was a Federal agricultural agency, called Triple A, and was housed on Kelly Ave., across from the alley way, behind Cunha’s store. We were on the ground floor with the Farm Advisors office, Patricia Dutra was their office employee and Mr. MacNamara was the Advisor. Upstairs was the living quarters of the Rathborne family.
Eventually, the Farm Advisors staff, which by then included R. H. Sciaroni as the 2nd Farm Advisor, moved to Main Street in the building formerly the office of Dr. Borley, next to the Odd Fellows Hall; our staff, now called Production and Marketing Assoc., moved to a new, block bldg, on Main Street, near the HMB Bakery. Our Agricultural staff joined in with another organization, Soil Conservation Service.
After about five years, I left PMA and worked in Redwood City for the County of San Mateo, and then was asked by Pat Dutra if I wanted to work in her office; so I joined the staff as a part time employee, it was much better than having to commute to Redwood City, especially as I was now married. As Mr. MacNamara had passed away, another gentlemen joined the staff at the Farm Advisors, Bryan Sandlin and later Robert Ward.
The Farm Advisors spent a lot of time out in the field, visiting farmers and flower growers, even those on the Peninsula, as at that time there were various flower nurseries in Redwood City and Palo Alto, When they were in the office, along with phone calls, there were office visitors to see the Advisors. Also, often there were staff people from the UC Extension Office in Berkeley. These fellows either visited the advisors or went out in the field with them, to assist in problems the farmers were having with plant diseases, etc.
The office staff, Pat and I, were also busy with calls, either setting up appointments and/or answering generic questions from the callers. There were lots of pamphlets, available from the UC Extension Service, they were the ones employing the Farm Advisors, the office staff was under the County of San Mateo. Many of the calls were regarding the pamphlets, as they included home advice, regarding: canning, gardening, freezing food, etc. Pat was responsible for more duties than I. Pat had taken a short hand course and was often busy taking dictation from the three advisors. As I worked only about three days a week, I was mostly on the phone, running the mimeograph machine or duplex machine, typing letters and dealing with the public. There were many flyers sent out to the public or farmers, and it entailed sending out hundreds of these flyers to our mailing lists.
We also had office duties related to the 4-H organization as they were under the Extension Service. Robert Ward worked with the various groups in the County.
I worked approximately two years in the office, and left to have my first child in 1956. Pat Dutra and Hank Sciaroni worked until their retirement and Bryan Scandlin and Robert Ward both passed away while they were employed in the office.
Note: In 1977 “Transitions: Montara to Pescadero An Oral History” was edited by Aida Hinjosa and published by Canada College.
Shorty Berta: Man of the Earth
By Michael Silver
(Image of Mr. Shorty Berta by photographer Pat Bolfing.)
“…while Berta works his farm in vegetables and
salt air as he’s done each spring for fifty seasons,
last of the old time truck farmers
Last of the good green growers,
looking like a dream in his field—
a farmer, a man of the earth,
a seed planting seeds….
from ‘Evening Drive’ by Ron Federighi
You can usually see him working around his truck farm when you drive on Highway 92 into Half Moon Bay. Sometimes he is working in the stand selling the vegetables he has grown. Most often, he is in the fields. Occasionally, you can see him atop the tractor he calls ‘capterpillar.’ He still works very hard aside from the fact that he believes he has become lazy, waking up at 7 a.m. to start his day. He is usually dressed the same: work pants, flannel shirt, suspenders and rubber boots with lots of dirt from hard work thrown in. All these facts seem unimportant unless you know that Guiseppe is eighty-seven-years-old.
No one knows him as Giuseppe. He is Shorty to his many friends. His face is wrinkled and his hair sparse, but his eyes have the glow of eternal youth. He has a sly sense of humor and his keen wit was ever-present as he related to us the experiences of his life.
As we entered the Berta’s small, spotless home, Shorty was seated at the table shuffling a deck of cards. He asked us if we would like to play with him and how much money we had to lose. We agreed to play at a later date. He moved into the small, comfortable living room and sat back in his recliner.
We were nervous on this, our first interview, but once he began talking, things naturally fell into place. He spoke mostly of past days with his sly sense of humor and no remorse.
“I been in California since nineteen fo’teen. I came to dis country, I was twenty fo’ years old.
“I was a farmer back dere in in Italia too. My father was a farmer too. And when I came hea’ I thought I could make mo’ money to go aroun’ work in a mine, logging camp, stuff like dat. I try try six yea’. I go aroun’ work fo’ years in de mine.
“Den I go, ah, in a farm. I peek grape by de ton, we go make mo’ money. But den afta six yea’ was still broke. I say, ‘My God, I’m gonna buy a farm’
“I went over der to Moss Beach. I buy stock ova der in a truck farm. I work fo’ yea’ ova der. Den we’re gonna make good, an’ de boss, he steal all. He keep all fo’ himself. I stay der from nineteen twenny to nineteen twenny to nineteen twenny fo’. Den I start a argument. I sell out. I say, ‘I need a rest. I’m gonna be de boss, an’ nobody’s ticket.’ Den, I rent dis place, for twenny five yea. Den in nineteen fo-ty eight, I got married. Den I buy fo’teen acre.”
Shorty’s conversation included much talk of the old days and what it was like working on a ranch during his first few years in this country.
“At dat time you work in a ranch, a dolla’-a-day. Dey pay your room an’ board, but dey put you to sleep in de, ah, stable, in a bunkhouse. My doggie has better place now den I had back den. We hadda work an’ go to de bathroom outside. We had no electric. Dey give you a lamp, Dey give you a lamp, you put in light fuel, but I like it.
“First place I work was in Stro’berry Lake. I work der’ fo’ two an’ a half days. We work pretty hard, but when I go eat, son of a gun! Der was a steak dat long. (He indicates two feet with his hands.) I thought it was a sin to get mo’, maybe dey come afta’ me, der be none in the mo’ning. I hadda friend of mine, he was in dis country about a yea’, an’ he says, ‘Sit down, get it off.’ (He whispers animatedly.) An’ when we eat dat steak, de guy, de cook, he still bring mo’. An’ in de’ mo’ning, he bring de ham an’ eggs, you know. Big piece of ham, an’ he put it on a big table we had, an’ some people, dey take half a dozen eggs. Dey eat like der was no end, an’ den when det was no mo’, he go an’ fill the plate up.
“But sleep, sleep was bad. For sleep, we had de bunkhouse. You know, one guy, he sleeps here and the other guy, he sleep above, three full. But we had jus’a two-inch board. No mattress, no nothing. We just had one blanket, yeah, an’ dose boards were jus’ like dey come from de mill. We got chinks (splinters). Yeah! I don’ care to sleep dat way.
“You have no cold ’cause dey have big stove, you know, an’ all kinds of wood, an’ we put wood in der too. But in November it started to rain, an’ den we had to quit. But it was all right for eat. Boy, it was all right.”
We kidded Shorty about his interest in food and his desire for life’s little luxuries.
“I like now betta. When I come hea’ we have no inside bathroom. Shower–for shower you had to take outside. I like now.
“When I come to dis country, I like right away. When I land in New Yo’k to San Francisco. It take seven day at dat time, but, ah, in Italy I put in two yea’ service in de army an’ was on de train every day. But in dat train, de seat was a two by fo’, you know,. When I land in New Yo’k, I take de train to San Francisco, the seat was like a centipede. The night car man, he had a big pile of–what you call? Pillows, nice an’ clean. An, he give you, everybody a pillow an’ you sleep betta’ den baby. I like. Den I fin’ de steak mo’ big. Back in Italy, was a steak about dat big and dat long. (He indicates about two inches in thickness and three inches in length.) But ova’ hea’, Jeesus Christ! De steak was like dis! (He indicates two feet in length.) Dey got a pretty good size steak. You be su’prised.”
We asked Shorty if he liked life today better than when he was younger.
“I liked some t’ings betta’ in my day. But, ah, de other t’ings mo’bett’ now. De money, befo’ you make a dolla-a-day. But, den today people have mo’ of de money and dey got mo’ money to spend.
“I remember when I was young. I was by myself at de time. I would go to San Francisco. Den, I go down with twenny dolla’. I stay three, fo’ day, eat an’ sleep, go to dance, an’ take some money home, too.
“Now, I go into the city, me an’ my wife, with twenny dolla’. We go eat, der just enough for one meal.
“When I come to dis country, I have an Italian suit. I was flat broke. I din’ have two cents in my pocket. Den one day, when I make thirty dolla’, I buy myself a new suit, shoes, an’ a shirt for thirty dolla’. Now fo’ the thirty dolla’, you couldn’t buy nothing. Just las’ yea’ I wen’ down an’ bought a coat. Jus’ a big coat, an’ it cos’ me eighty dolla’.
“One t’ing I don’ like. Da people befo’ dey was mo’ friendly. Like mo’ one another. Yeah, mo’ like a family. Da people den was mo’ friendly. Like in a ranch. You have New Year an’ Easta’ Sunday, an stuff like dat, an’ we come togetha’ an’ eat, an’ den we stay all day togetha’. We hadda guy, he hadda accordion an’ we had music, an’ we dance all day. We sing. We drink wine.
