HalfMoonBayMemories (HMBM) To my eye, this image is beautiful. What is it to you?
Russell Towle (RT) oh it’s beauty all the way, but in this case, it is one frame from an animation, in which a virtual camera is pointing into a virtual kaleidoscope of three mirrors … as though one took a 30-60-90-degree right triangle, and erected a vertical mirror on each side of the triangle. Then reflections make it seem like an infinite plane with some sort of tiling …
Russell Towle is a mathematician, amateur geologist, and local history writer who currently working on an article about zonotopal tilings.
“Zome is a word coined by Steve Baer as I recall, based upon “dome,” the difference being that the geodesic dome of [Buckminster] Fuller was formed upon a network of triangles, wheres zomes are bounded by zonogons, a zonogon being a convex, centrally-symmetrical polygon. A rhomb is a zonogon, so are all regular polygons with an even number of sides, but a zonogon need not be regular.”
1944; it was almost the end of WWII, and, John Reber, “the man who wanted to remodel San Francisco Bay,” revealed his plans for a 5-hour Military Highway and SuperFreeway Connecting San Francisco with Los Angeles.
There are two crescents; (1) 125-mile San Francisco and Los Angeles Areas in which live 90% of California’s 800,000 people; (2) 50-mile Los Angeles and San Francisco Metro Areas in which live two-thirds of California’s 800,000 people.
Email Larry Kaplan ([email protected]
from Further Conversations with Larry Kaplan
This is Larry:
This is June:
Larry, an avid yachtsman, says: The following photo of Wanda was taken when she was new.
June: An historic photograph. When was she built?
Larry: she is 90′ long and she was built in 1922. My clients are in Canada and I get to play with WANDA at will. I do. WANDA is my haven, I say, HAVEN away from home. There is a funny sign on WANDA’S stern about lemonade.
June: And she’s parked where?
Larry: WANDA is parked on the Petaluma River VERY near downtown Petaluma and the Riverfront re-construction effort that is re-vitalizing the entire downtown of Petalooooma.
Here’s a couple of other views of beautiful Wanda.
To read more about Larry Kaplan and Wanda, click here
(In this photo you can see the sign for “Dan’s Place which was located on the hill [look for the big windows] overlooking Moss Beach.
Remembering Dan’s Place
Story by Elaine M. Teixeira, with Lena Parks***
The Bortolotti family moved to Moss Beach from Orland, California (approx. 1924) where they owned a turkey farm. Because Dan suffered from asthma, they left to live on the coastside.
Dan and Kina the family first lived in a house, up on the hill, across from the Moss Beach Grocery Store.
Later, they moved into the service station, along side of the grocery store. From there, (in approx. 1930-31) they moved into the structure which became known as Dan’s Place. Previously, in the building, there was a church and a dance hall.
Dan and Kina opened a restaurant and bar, with Kina doing most of the cooking. Dan tended bar and his brother John helped out. Dan’s sister also came from Italy with her son Domenic, but she soon returned to Italy; her son later opened up the hotel and restaurant in Half Moon Bay known as Domenic’s, and which now is known as the San Benito House.
In time, Lena Park’s older sister, Laura, was helping with the cooking, Lena (Parks) waited on tables, and their brother, Barney, helped tend bar.
There were approx. 11 rooms upstairs, which members of the family occupied, though Dan and Kina, also lived in a home, on the room north of the restaurant facing the post office. Later, Mrs. Tyler, a school teacher at the Moss Beach grammar school, lived in the house, and then, Barney and his family. On the other side of the building, below Dan’s, is another house which at that time, faced the grammar school, and was owned by Dan and rented out.
They also opened a grocery store in the corner of the building, near the grammar school, which later, during WWII, became a hamburger shop, run by Lena and husband Kenny Parks, a service man stationed in the area.
On the north side of the building stood an auto repair shop with gas pumps, operated by Tony Claudino, and then Tony Bettencourt. There was also a barber shop on the side. Dan’s Place was enlarged and blue windows were installed to cut down on the sun’s glare.
At some point, Dan had a motel built on the cliff, near the ocean, by the Catholic Church; the motel could be seen from the coast road. It was a popular spot for some of the customers at the restaurant; fishermen wanting to stay overnight, and travelers passing through. Both Laura and Lena had to make up beds and clean the rooms after school. Uncle John would tend to the motel business, and later, a sign was posted to tell customers to sign in at the restaurant.
(Dan’s Motel overlooked the Pacific in Moss Beach; it was an example of the classic 1940s-50s drive- in motel)
In 1947, the parents were in a very bad auto accident, and Dan died a day later in the hospital; Kina was severely injured and never fully recovered. The two older children, Laura and Barney married and their spouses (Laura married Frank Bertolacci ,and Barney married Frank’s sister, Josephine) worked in the business. Frank Bertolacci tended bar, and his sister, Josephine (Tye,) worked as a waitress and cooked in the kitchen.
Laura tended bar sometimes. She was one of the few women who could tend bar. In those days, no woman could tend bar unless her name appeared on the official licenses and if she had an interest in the business.
At some point they hired a cook; eventually, Barney and Josephine were the only ones left running the business. When they retired, their three daughters, Donna Lou, Janette and Debbie ran the restaurant. Their Mom, Josephine, continued to help in the kitchen and Donna’s spouse tended bar until the building was sold. Barney’s son, Danny,opened an auto shop built down near Hwy One, which he ran. Later it was sold and is currently where the San Mateo County Sheriff’s Dept. houses their vehicles.
————–
***Lena Parks is the youngest child of Dan & Kina Bortolotti who owned Dan’s Place in Moss Beach. She was 2 yrs old when they moved to Moss Beach and she atttended the grade school in Moss Beach and graduated from the high school in Half Moon Bay. She married Kenny Parks, a service man, on the coastside during WWII and they raised three daughters. They lived with their family in Redwood City, she is now widowed and lives in the San Jose area.
***Elaine Martini Teixeira says: I worked when Tony and I first married, for about five years or more, until I started a family, lost first child, so returned to work, then was off for about 15 yrs raising the two children. In the early part of marriage, I worked in HMB for a couple of different government, farm organizations, PMA, Soil Conservation and Farm Advisors. I also worked for the County of San Mateo in Recorder’s office and School Dept. When I returned to work after raising family, worked for a laundry rental company and then the County of SM for 22 yrs.
(Photo: Elaine M Teixeira, wearing white, with sister Loretta).
I call him “Bizzie” but his real name is Bismarck. These photos are from his most recent modeling jobs. His least favorite, is the one of him on the swing; he hates that one; he told me so. Don’t judge him by it. (All photos courtesy Geert Flammersfeld.)
July 4th Celebration at Half Moon Bay in the 1890s
All day long a steady stream of visitors poured into Half Moon Bay, many of them from as far away as San Francisco. By noon the line of horse and buggies parked along Main Street looked more like a crowded city scene than a quiet country town.
One of the local papers, probably the Coastside Advocate, estimated that at least 300 strangers joined the local citizens to celebrate one of the biggest Fourth of July’s anybody could remember.
The townsfolk started getting ready for the big party, the 114th anniversary of American Independence, as early as the day before. Everybody pitched in to decorate, draping red, white and blue bunting and streamers over businesses and private homes.
Not only the American flag but a display of banners from all over the world produced an instant flash of color. Flags floated out of all but a very few homes–and overnight, Half Moon Bay struck the appropriate patriotic look.
Promptly at sunrise, and it was going to be a sunny day, the early pioneer W.A. Simmons fired the town’s five pound cannon and led the national salute. And then droves of people from the city and the surrounding countryside arrived, all in a festive mood.
Young and old, dressed- up for the occasion, thronging the streets as firecrackers popped profusely in the background.
Of course, getting to this point wasn’t as smooth as it looked. There had been disagreements within the citizen’s committee responsible for the Fourth of July events. It got so bad that the celebration came within an inch of being canceled. But in the end, all ruptures were healed, all differences settled amicably. All worth it, too–because the carriages were rolling in, their horses prancing, and the children, always adorable, shouted and played in the street.
The noise of the crowd settled down to a muffle and heads turned to watch the ceremonial unfurling of flags over the “business houses.” Everybody who owned a building dressed up theirs for the Fourth including Levy Bros, R.I, Knapp’s Plow Factory, William Pringle’s Shop and Boitano Bros. Mercantile.
At 10 am sharp, the honorary “president of the day” led the PARADE, a grand civic procession that began at Schuyler’s Hotel and marched down Kelly, with the Half Moon Bay Cornet Band playing Francis Scott Key’s Star Spangled Banner. Trailing behind the band was a lovely Fourth of July float, drawn by a team of fine local horses.
A group of children scrambled to catch up with the parade, as the older folk strolled along. At Main Street, the colorful parade turned south toward Miramontes Street–and the entire procession stopped outside the grammar school.
There, in the shade of large cedar trees, stood a recently constructed pavilion, decorated with thick bunting and flags. Behind the pavilion, and near the bandstand, stood an elevated stage, featuring a set of “roll curtains” for the anxiously awaited “tableaux.”
As the master of ceremonies introduced the lengthy literary program to a sea of faces seated beneath him, the cornet band (this was their third gig) struck up Our Flag is There followed by Red, White and Blue, sung off-key by the little kids.
School officials raised the flag as a wave of applause rippled through the crowd.
But everybody was there for the long-awaited, much-discussed tableaux, (A tableaux is a dramatic activity where a group of students are asked to physically construct a significant scene from literature through body placement, facial expressions, and the use of a few props.) This one was called Colonial Times, and the nervous actors assembled on the elevated stage where they could look down into the audience and see the smiling faces of friends and family.
Colonial Times featured thirteen girls representing the original colonies, all dressed alike in white costumes with a broad sash bearing the name of the state. As the curtain raised on this patriotic scene (where Liberty, Army, George and Lady Washington froze in a symbolic pose) a hushed silence swept through the audience. A few minutes later it was was all over as the band struck up a patriotic number and the curtain lowered on the characters who managed to remain perfectly still the entire time.
The stage was also reserved for a series of recitations, one a stirring piece called Independence Day, another entitled E Pluribus Unum. Midway through the spirited program, the Rev. B.F. Taylor delivered an uplifting address. And, as the audience loudly sang America in unison with the actors gathered on stage, the curtain slowly dropped to thunderous applause.
In the evening some 150 people crowded into the Pacific Hall for a night of dancing, where the popular string band, the Melville Brothers entertained. Around midnight, the ladies’ Fourth of July committee served a special supper at the Ocean Shore Hotel. The party wasn’t over until dawn when the band finally went home.
There were no glitches in that smooth-running Fourth of July celebration–but now I’ll tell you about the one that had a hard time getting off the ground. It happened the very next year.
From the beginning an unexpected death and funeral threw the official Fourth of July Committee’s plans into chaos as well as casting gloom over everyone.
The Cornet Band was over four hours late. The literary event was cut short. Songs were canceled. There was a rushed performance by the schoolchildren, a hastily read Declaration of Independence, and that was the gist of the live performance.
The day’s organizers found themselves constantly apologizing for the poorly put together event to no avail–even the afternoon barbecue failed to attract a hungry crowd.
Things were looking pretty bad; there were fears that this Fourth of July would go down in the record books as one of the worst when there was a decided turn in luck. As time for the horse races drew near, excitement infected the spectators who watched the trotting races– open to Coastside horses only–the buggy races and the half-mile running races.
The locals loved cheering on their local youth in the foot races. Joe Quinlan sprinted 100 yards to win a silk negligee shirt. There were contests for married men only and an unscheduled event: the race between Lawrence’s milch cow and Donovan’s cart mule (the cow came in second).
By nightfall, over 200 guests assembled at the Pacific Hall for dancing. The Fourth of July Ladies Committee served a memorable supper–and Half Moon Bay rested on her laurels for pulling off another successful Fourth of July, after all.
This is the story of Jane Lathrop Stanford and the mysterious circumstances surrounding her death in the early 1900s.
Part 10
While the autopsy was completed, the chemist’s report was inexplicably delayed. Suspicion arose when Honolulu’s High Sheriff William Henry cabled San Francisco police with a message that “the bottle of bicarbonate of soda contained 43 grams, in which there were 662 grains of strychnine.”
Then came a bombshell. High Sheriff Henry denied he was the author of the cable and did not know what was in the still unreleased chemist’s report.
After further delay, there was an inquest featuring a parade of witnesses. Bertha Berner, who was a suspect, remained in her room while testifying. Wearing a white, long-sleeved dress with a high collar, she had prepared herself well. As she described Mrs. Stanford’s last moments she clasped a handkerchief with her long, slender fingers adorned with a “dozen rich rings.”
While the autopsy surgeons pointed to strychnine as the cause of death, the chemists said they found only one-half a grain of strychnine in the 43 grains of bicarbonate of soda.
The Honolulu Coroner’s Jury issued its own verdict: “Mrs. Stanford came to death by poisoning, strychine having been given to her with murderous intent by a person or persons unknown to the jury.”
The verdict set the San Francisco police into motion as detectives scoured the Nob Hill mansion and the Palo Alto Farm for traces of strychnine. None was found. Strchnine had to be registered at the point of purchase and local pharmacists were interviewed. If the police could not trace the deadly poison to a purchaser, officials said they would have insufficient evidence for a conviction.
Detectives focused on Mrs. Stanford’s servants, subjecting them to the “third degree” in a darkened room on the first floor of the Nob Hill mansion. In that room police heard accounts of petty rivalry, jealousy and intrigue.
Albert Beverly and Elizabeth Richmond, the dismissed butler and maid residing in San Mateo, underwent two hours of “sweating” at San Francisco police headquarters. Nothing new was learned.
After being shadowed and harassed by police, Elizabeth Richmond broke down and admitted, “We all knew what was going on about my old mistress,” referring to the household graft. She accused Bertha Berner of sharing in the profits and of exerting undue influence over Mrs. Stanford.
But Bertha retained the full confidence of the entire Stanford estate. Bertha and Ah Wing were loyal, and not greedy, since they were always adequately recompensed, it was said.
Following Mrs. Stanford’s death, the Stanford team seemed anxious to conclude that Mrs. Stanford was not murdered.
How did Dr. David Starr Jordan, a medical doctor, and the president of Stanford University, deal with the presence of strychnine in the bicarbonate of soda? He contended the presence could have been a pharmacist’s error, or mixed with the soda as a tonic. As Dr. Jordan familiarized himself with Mrs. Stanford’s symptoms, he concluded she was not poisoned because the strychnine found did not exceed “a medicinal dose.” She died a natural death, he said.
The natural death theory gained momentum as San Francisco police were unable to uncover more than details “relating to certain jealousies and trouble between Mrs. Stanford’s servants.”
Agreeing that the amount of strychnine found was insufficient to kill Mrs. Stanford, the police closed the case. Mrs. Stanford’s passing was classified as a natural death caused by heart disease, brought on by an acute attack of indigestion.
At the reading of Mrs. Stanford’s will, Bertha Berner received $15,000, and Ah Wing received $1,000. Bertha retired to Menlo Park; a personal account of her life with Mrs. Stanford was published by the University Press in 1935.
But Mrs. Jane Lathrop Stanford’s death remained controversial as some of her friends continued to believe she had been poisoned. They also believed the culprit worked secretly and alone, and his or her identity would never be know.
