Three decades after the Ocean Shore Railroad declared bankruptcy and pulled out of the Coastside, the train’s right-of-way was paved over with a new road, eventually called Hwy 1. The paving occured in stages up and down the Coastisde, between the 1940s and 50s.
This R. Guy Smith photo could have been taken in the early 1950s–when development was taking place on “the other side of the hill” but not on the Coastside, still wide open. In this picture it seems the Ocean Shore left us little to remember it with. But if you look closely some landmarks are visible such as the old Amesport Pier (1860s, rebuilt 1916) at Miramar. That’s Pillar Point to the north.
Notice there’s no traffic? What’d they do, close the highway so the photographer, R. Guy Smith, could get the shot? Nice.
(At below,right) About 1908, the Ocean Shore Railroad (smoky, isn’t it?) delivers and picks up well-dressed pasengers at an El Granada train station.
(At below, left) The Ocean Shore ignites a “land boom” in El Granada, and, where once artichokes grew, street signs appear–but no sidewalks or houses–yet.
While waiting for houses, summer and all-year-round to be built, new lot owners camped out in tents like the one below at El Granada:
(Bottom photo) First homes are built in El Granada
Yesterday, when I walked out of the pharmacy in HMB, I saw a cat on a leashâgently tied to somebodyâs green backpack resting on the ground.
Iâm a cat lover, the owner of two bobtails, so my heart went straight to this multi- gray striped cat with a tailânot just because it was on a leash, which is unusual enough to make anyone look twice.
But this cat was calm and unafraid– even though I thought it was clearly vulnerable.
Its fur was shiny, slick and clean. And its clear knowing eyes told me, lady, Iâm no ordinary cat.
This was a worldly cat, an experienced cat– a wise and patient cat.
All this flashed through my mind when the catâs owner walked out of the store.
He looked a little travel-worn but he didnât notice me. To the cat he said, âIs everything all right?â?
I guess everything âwas all rightâ? because he sat on the cold concrete next to the cat, resting, looking at nothing in particular. I noticed he had a jagged cut above his right eye but I decided not to ask about the wound.
Instead I asked about the cat.
âIsnât your cat afraid of dogs?â?
âHe IS a dog,â? he answered. âHe grew up around dogs. He knows how to handle them. He can protect himself.â?
Then he told me the most remarkable thing: âThis cat can swim. We were in Santa Cruz over the weekend, â and the rest trailed off.
âReally?â? I marveled, imagining a swimming cat. One of my cats, the girl, tentatively tests the drinking water in her green bowl with one paw, but I couldnât envision her stepping into any body of water.
Hoping for more stories about this intrepid animal, I said, âYou take great care of him.â? I thought he must brush him all the time but he informed me, âHe grooms himself. He licks himself every two minutes. I take good care of my cat.â?
Our conversation was coming to an end but I wanted to know one more thing. âWhatâs his name?â?
âBubba. We were supposed to go to Alaska, âhe added almost absentmindedly. â⦠catch a flight out of Oregon.â?
These two, Bubba and his owner, were one, inseparable, and I left them that way in Half Moon Bay, wondering how these traveling companions would deal with the harsh Alaskan weather in the dead of winter.
But if the cat can swim, Iâm sure they can survive anything.
Although these lovely Muslim women could not show their faces to the camera, they kindly posed for this picture at a farm off Hwy 92. Today is a holy day for Muslims on the Coastside.
When I first came to the Coastside in the 1970s I was not only very young but there were other very young people living here, too. Not many–because the population, in general, was a low number. They had come from Buffalo, NY, Ohio and southern California– I don’t think I met anyone who had grown up in San Francisco, like me.
I have struggled, and continue to struggle with trying to explain why they were here, the attraction. It was unusual, I thought. The common denominator seemed to have something to do with strong personalities and a need for independence. Because the Coastside was a big, open place in the 1970s there was lots of space around these people and you could see them clearly. No blurring. They had definition.
The real locals, the authentic ones who had lived here all their lives, could have described us as “the intruders”, but it’s my word. We intruded on what had been exclusively theirs for decades.
To the Richards: There was “Rotten Richard”. He was thin and wiry and worked as an electrician. Everybody called him “Rotten Richard” but I don’t know why. He was a nice guy. He lived in a big, new house at the golf course when the golf course was very young. I (and my ex) were invited to a party there and Rotten Richard played host to his many friends– and I recall feeling surprised when the lady mayor, better known as “The Godmother”, strolled through.
Another Richard was Richard English– who had to be distinguished from the third Richard, Richard “the Englishman” who is an Englishman.
Unlike the other two Richards who had nicknames, Richard English didnt’ have one. Maybe that’s why he called himself “Big Red Dick” He was a tall, trim, redheaded man,, the kind of guy you were always glad to see. You knew he could make you laugh, a funny thing he personalized just for you.
This Richard also kept busy in the building business–but in the 1970s “wanderlust” had a grip on him. He was always moving away from the Coastside. And every time he announced he was leaving, someone would throw a wild party for him. The last one I recall was given by the beautiful Leah, the manager of the popular Crab Cottage in Princeton owned by El Granada’s Tom Monaghan. The doors of the restaurant, now gone, closed, and great fun was had by one and all.
PHOTO at left: The Crab Cottage, in Princeton, a seafood restaurant, now gone, where goodbye parties were held for the, red-haired Richard English. You can see the Princeton Hotel across the way from the Crab Cottage.
But Richard English couldn’t stay away from the Coastside for long–everytime he left he soon returned and spent the rest of his life here.
Of the three Richards, I only have a picture of the successful Coastside plumber, Richard Henry, also known as “Richard the Englishman”–because he has an English accent. When there were no fences to stop you from riding your horse from Montara to Half Moon Bay, Richard, his dark curly hair flying in the wind, zipped along the cliffs. Within recent years, he came to a party at my house in El Granada– riding in a horse-driven cart all the way from Montara–down Hwy 1.
BELOW: Here’s a photo of Richard “the Englishman” taken 30 years ago.
Sadly, two of the Richards are gone. “Rotten Richard” died long ago and recently we lost Richard English, a resident of Pescadero. BUT I DO NOT WANT TO CONFUSE YOU–RICHARD HENRY, “the Englishman” and Coastside plumber, is still around and graces us with his charming English accent.
In the 1950-60s there was a plan floating around to locate the College of San Mateo Campus south of Half Moon Bay (see striped area on map). Life sure would have been different on the Coastside had it happened.
( Photo: Dante Dianda at right with unknown man.) Dianda, better known as “the artichoke king”, farmed the fields of El Granada in the earlier part of the 20th century.
