Easy ride “over the hill” yesterday, Saturday, May 27–but my sources tell me that 92 was very crowded coming & going yesterday, Sunday the 28th of May.
[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3BKUnX4y0tA]
Princeton-By-The-Sea: Funky Fishing Village South Of The Slide…
When two flamboyant brothers moved into the Princeton Inn in the 1970s, these outsiders fired-up the fishing village next door, setting the stage for a showdown.
Of all the unique little corners on the Coastside, Princeton was the most authentic and freewheeling.
A jumble of bleached wood huts, worn-out boats, rusted metal and steel, that was Princeton-by-the-Sea. Year-after-year I’d see the same old boats on pilings and the lack of change was strangely reassuring.
Building regulations were lax and county officials not exactly welcome. Princeton had its own by-laws and an unofficial mayor and things had been done in a certain way for decades. If you fit in, you could claim any old cubbyhole and move in.
The Coastsiders really loved this charming place. There were more characters per square inch in Princeton than Pescadero or San Gregorio combined.
(Be patient—I’m coming back to the brothers).
Life was governed by high and low tides and phases of the moon, and when not in a fishing boat, walking was the way to get around. A couple of fishermen-friendly restaurants and bars were within a stone’s throw, also a country store.
There were a few old homes in the fishing village, the quaint kind, needing repairs from roof to foundation—in fact, one nice two-story home belonged to an engineer and his postal employee wife who later on would win the lottery, pack their bags and bid goodbye to Princeton. By today’s standards, their home could qualify as an historic point of interest.
In those simpler times, I would take long, leisurely walks from El Granada to Moss Beach with Peyote and Scorpio, my two dogs. One time when I passed through Princeton I saw an old school bus parked near the beach and a young hippie girl with flowers in her hair invited me inside for a cup of tea.
She lived in the bus and was proud of her pretty seashell collection. We sipped some tea, exchanged some gossip and I was on way.
In the 1970s discos were the rage—and the two flamboyant brothers wanted to open one so they bought the Princeton Inn. It was to be their showpiece and they hired the best young local carpenters and craftsmen to help them build their dream.
Big, bold racing stripes appeared on the outer walls of the Princeton Inn and a string of bulbs lit up the lovely arches at night.
The brothers were city dudes, flashy guys, in sharp contrast to the locals. Long before Johnny Cash, both favored black clothing, head to toe, leather jackets, even black gloves. One brother drove an expensive, shiny black Porsche, the other rode a high-powered black motorcycle.
Boy, did these guys pick the wrong place.
Early on the newcomers were in constant conflict with the locals.
One July, around the fourth, I walked over to Princeton. It was clear there was trouble in the air.
What was happening?
The local story was that the brothers had failed to make their mortgage payments and a new buyer was lurking in the wings. But the brothers weren’t giving up easily and they barricaded themselves inside the Princeton Inn. The replacement owner was a woman who had curried favor with the locals and pressure was mounting to run the brothers out of town.
It was a stalemate.
Then suddenly I witnessed the brother with the Porsche jump in and roar away—but there was no sign of the other brother. The biker’s getaway wasn’t as pain-free. He did finally make his escape but not until he got a couple of lumps by the locals.
Photo: Princeton Inn
Watercolor, Scene at Princeton, believed to be by Coastside artist Galen Wolf
Devil’s Slide Watercolor
Believed to be a watercolor by famous Coastside artist Galen Wolf
Devil’s Slide: The Way It Was
Look Over Devil’s Slide And You’ll See This
Media Observations: American Idol
Do you think Simon Cowell was testing his power over public opinion or just going with the flow when he proclaimed the night before the official American Idol winner was announced, that it would be Taylor Hicks?
I wonder.
The hints of who the winner would be had been in the air before the usually tightly wound Cowell blurted out his pick. Both Paula Abdul and Randy Jackson had been early lovers of Hicks, chastising Cowell for not loving âthe silver foxâ?– and reminding the audience that most of the past winners had been women and it was time for a man to take center stage.
A majority of 63- plus million voters anointed Taylor Hicks the American Idol (more than the results of any presidential election, Ryan Seacrest, the host with the âsmiley mouthâ? face, reminded). But not only was Taylor a man– by rock-n-roll standards, with that head of silver gray hair, he qualifies as an old man.
Taylor Hicks’ performance the night he was pronounced the winner may have revealed his singing voice’s vulnerabilities, but the judges proved theyâre not age-ist.
We Live In The Banana Belt
Driving to Devil’s Slide
[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=clbRKyIkaOE]
“Mad As Hell” Emails
Dear June Morrall,
As a Coastside commuter for the past 20 years, I have an interesting observation for you: One of the important things every commuter does is listen attentively to the radio traffic reports on AM 740 or AM 810.
They provide valuable information. Sometimes the Bay Bridge toll plaza is overloaded. Usually the San Mateo-Hayward Bridge is a big problem. Those are chronic situations but never ever before has a constant traffic problem been totally ignored by these traffic reporters.
They no longer talk about 92 and Devilâs Slide. Occasionally thereâs mention on the general news usually telling us the date for reopening Devil’s Slide is even further out. When it comes to the Coastsider’s twice daily commute agony, it’s as if everybody else in the Bay Area has suffered amnesia.
Keep up the good work, June.
From: âIâm also mad as hellâ?
June: I just got home and I followed two garbage trucks that turned from Crystal Springs onto 92. It was slow going all the way, until they turned into the dump, then it was smooth sailing into town. This happened at twenty minutes of 4. Whatever business they had at the dump, they could have done it after 7 p.m.
Montara Bob
“Mad As Hell And I’m Not Going To Take It Anymore”
The garbage dump used to be near the beach in the early 1970s. The passage of time has blurred the location but it was down a dusty road near the beach. And there stood a funky wood shack where a tall, skinny guy took money for dumping “stuff”. I recall there was a giant white golf ball that marked the spot.
You wouldn’t think going to the dump could be fun but this WAS fun. (Being a City girl, I’d never been to a dump before but the guy in the shack and the golf ball, well, together they were academy award winners).
Today–as we drivers all know only too well– because we see the garbage trucks everyday– they’re either in front or in back of us heading for a once unspoiled canyon off Hwy 92– that’s where the garbage is dumped today.
I was there once or twice–I didn’t want to come back– there were many screeching seagulls, and all that accompanies that– no trees, and it wasn’t memorable–except that I still wonder why anyone in a responsible position would sign a contract to make this remote location off a busy two- lane country road the dump for most or some of San Mateo County.
Maybe we should revisit that contract again.
Since 1970 the Coastside has grown and grown and grown. The dump is located off Hwy 92, a very busy road– and today the only road for hardworking Coastsiders to get to their jobs on the Peninsula. Oh, you could take Hwy 1 south and then go east to reach the Peninsula—but the roads going east are not much more than quaint wagon trails–I’m exaggerating but not by much. (Of course, the reason the roads south of Half Moon Bay are “crude” is because (1) not many people live there and (2) the roads going east take you to the wealthy suburb of Woodside and in this horsey town with no sidewalks, I would bet the residents don’t want to see Coastside commuters.)
I am absolutely not lobbying for more Coastside roads or for widening the existing roads, such as they are. We don’t want a dump near the beach, either. And, obviously we need garbage trucks–their drivers and workers are hardworking folks, too, I know.
But common sense tells me that until Devil’s Slide is reopened, the commuter is the victim and he/she should have the right-of-way on Hwy 92. Perhaps garbage trucks should– during this temporary emergency (meaning until the old Devil’s Slide roadway is reopened)– use Hwy 92 during off-commuter hours– even late in the evening.
Even before the Slide was closed, it was difficult for the garbage truck drivers to negotiate their way over Hwy 92–the trucks are big, sometimes stuff flies out of the truck bed–they really need the entire lane, commuters and drivers can’t pass them easily–and when the trucks get close to the official “dump” they clog up the road, hugging the shoulder but still significantly slowing down commuter traffic. At one point I even saw the Californa Highway Patrol directing traffic on the road outside the dump because of the extreme congestion–and that was about a mile from the town of Half Moon Bay.
Please email me, give me your ideas for alleviating traffic on Hwy 92 and I’ll post them. Thank you for the emails I’ve already received.
If you love the Coastside and you love nature, you’ll weep when you see this “before” image of Ox Mountain, today the garbage dump for most of the county. The use of Ox Mountain as a garbage dump has produced a scar that can be seen from miles around. We must ask again, why on earth would a responsible person make a deal for a garbage dump to be located on a two-lane country road?
P.S. We LOVE carpools and commend all those who organized and participate in the program.