Author: June Morrall

Posted on

Incident at Billy Grosskurth’s Hotel: Part II

Through his ties to the entertainment industry, Moss Beach hotel owner Billy Grosskurth met lots of eccentric characters but the red-haired Woodside millionaire George Whittell may have been the strangest of them all.

Perhaps the men became acquainted in Oakland. Whittell loved animals and he may have been drawn to Idora Park, where Billy worked as the theater’s manager. Part of the show included caged animals.

A third generation Californian, Whittell inherited a fortune from his parents who had invested wisely in real estate. Not the working type, George pursued the life eccentric. He owned a luxurious apartment in San Francisco, a chateau in France, an apartment in Paris–but these were just the trappings of the super rich, just like his custom made Duesenberg automobiles, world class speedboats, airplanes, expensive gadgets and toys were.

Of all the eccentric characters Billy Grosskurth met up with, George Whittell (below with is dog) may have been the strangest of them all. It was at his Woodside estate on Kings Mountain Road–and later at Thunderbird Lodge on Lake Tahoe– that he began to live out his fantasies. photo Thunderbird Lodge Preservation Society

And his fantasies included a love of circus characters, and it was widely known that Whittell kept lions and elephants outside his Woodside home. Like Billy, he’d had woman trouble, too, though of a different nature. When George Whittell was an impulsive young man he wed an actress his parents disapproved of. They paid the lady to vanish and start another life. Later, again single, some women George met complained about his behavior, even resorting to the courts for financial compensation as a result of injuries they claimed to have suffered.

At Woodside he kept a lion that scared off U.S. Marshals attempting to serve him with a subpoena. A local joke was that a boa constrictor that hadn’t eaten in several months lived in a tree near the estate’s entrance.

By 1934 his erratic personal life had settled down. He married a lovely woman he met during World War I in Paris where he earned honors and distinction driving ambulances in the City of Lights. And unlike others who were financially devastated by the Great Depression, Whittell was one of the remarkable few who preserved his wealth by liquidating his stocks before the market crash.

All was not perfect in his life. George was in the middle of a thorny situation. He was being sued by his stepbrother Alfred for half of the family inheritance–reportedly some $9 million. As Whittell tried to overturn Alfred’s suit, the newspapers rubbed their hands together, anticipating a juicy trial.

Whittell’s lawyers recommended that he change residence to avoid his stepbrother’s lawsuit and so he was building a fabulous getaway at Lake Tahoe called Thunderbird Lodge–outfitted with a boathouse large enough to berth his custom-built 50-foot speedboat, powered with two airplane engines. There was also special housing for three elephants, stone stables standing side-by-side, outfitted with individual fireplaces to keep the animals warm when the weather turned cold.

How unlikely it seemed that the paths of Moss Beach hotel owner Billy Grosskurth and Woodside millionaire George Whittell would cross–but that is exactly what happened in an extraordinary encounter on New Years 1934 at the Marine View Hotel.

Posted on

Inside the House of Doors

Ever wondered what WAS inside the House of Doors on Highway 92?

Way back when Anne Howe lived in the House of Doors–which was composed almost entirely of doors–she was going to sell antiques to the public but the idea was dropped because of the awkward location of the entrance/ driveway.

Antiques with friend of Anne Howe’s inside the House of Doors

The outspoken Anne Howe became a famous member of the Half Moon Bay City Council, one of the most colorful as she had been a successful madam in San Francisco.

Posted on

Heady Times At Billy Grosskurth’s Hotel: Part I

Photo: Marine View Tavern

By 1934 Prohibition had ended, and now that it was legal to drink booze in Half Moon Bay roadhouses, people stopped coming to the Coastside.

Instead attention turned to the Bay Meadows Race Track in San Mateo that had just flung open its gates– and to make things sweeter, a rich Burlingame car dealer was about to purchase Seabiscuit, the famous super-racehorse that was going to help distract people’s minds from the doldrums of the Great Depression.

There was a real drought at Moss Beach where generous shots of liquor had dried up at the Marine View Tavern, former vaudevillian Billy Grosskurth’s seaside roadhouse. Billy was a toe tapping piano player, all show biz, and proud of his talent. He’d had some success traveling with roadshows, too.

When his traveling days were over Billy managed a live theater in Oakland, part of an amusement park with “girlie productions”, thrilling roller coaster rides, a swimming pool and caged animals, including a bear called “Hi”.

One of the “girlies” may have been at the center of a lawsuit filed against Billy. He had pressed one of the young ladies–against her better judgment– to go down the “Joy Laundry”, a giant slide. Finally she did and like a self-fufilling prophecy, she was injured, thus the lawsuit.

That was just one of the lawsuits Grosskurth was dealing with when he decided to get out of town. He knew about the Ocean Shore Railroad and the little beach towns that were popping up on the San Mateo County Coastside. Friends said, “take a look, there might be a good investment for you.” He did and learned that the 20-room Marine View Hotel at Moss Beach was for sale, fell in love with it, and purchased it about 1915.
The three-story Marine View Tavern stands at the left. Both photos by R. Guy Smith

And it was a good investment. During the heady days of Prohibition, Billy’s fingers rolled across the piano keys as he entertained the politicians and silent film stars who wandered about, drinks in hand. Outside it was dark and on the reefy beach below it was business as usual for the rumrunners and bootleggers.

Posted on

Charlie Nye & The Reefs: Part III

Me at Charlie Nye’s Reefs II. Photo Suzanne Meek

In 1980 I interviewed Charlie Nye, whose father, also called Charlie Nye, had owned a wonderful restaurant called The Reefs in Moss Beach. It was unique, a foundation-less building with piers stuck in the sand. People came from all around to boat, collect shells and enjoy a bowl of ab chowder. The Charlie I talked with lived on the cliffs above the spot where the Reefs once stood. His place was called the Reefs II and across the way was another building that served as the Moss Beach Hotel.

Mother Nature kept reminding Charlie Nye, Sr. that the Reefs was a temporary building. Every time the tide was high the waves splashed against the Reefs. When it was stormy they lashed angrily at the building, wearing it down and tearing into the cliffs behind it, too.

Charllie Nye, Jr.: Finally there was a tidal wave and it lifted the Reefs off its pillars.

But Nye had anticipated this moment and already built the Reefs II on the safer cliffs above.

Charlie Nye, Jr.: This was completed, I think, in about 1926. Rooms were rented out to fishermen and people from the Valley who came when it got too hot. The Valley wasn’t air conditioned in those times. They came down for a month at a time.

Getting to Moss Beach from anywhere in the 1920s was frustrating.

Charlie Nye, Jr.: The road coming over Pedro Mountain was terrible, just awful. Words can’t describe it. It was just impossible. It went around turns and more turns, hairpin turns, short turns, backward turns. There were potholes on top of potholes. When you come down here today and complain about a few earth-slides on Devil’s Slide, well, that’s nothing compared to that old Pedro Mountain Road.
The way to Moss Beach via the Pedro Mountain Road

June: Any other memories of transportation in those days?

Charlie Nye, Jr.: I remember my father talking about the horse and buggy days. He said it took a full day to ride from San Mateo to Moss Beach. He said it could take four to five hours with a horse and buggy to haul lumber from Half Moon Bay to Moss Beach.

Charlie’s father loved his work.

Charlie Nye, Jr.: He ran the Reefs II until he was so blind that we forced him to stop. That was in 1967. He stopped serving food in 1965.

When I interviewed Charlie in 1980 the Reefs II was open on Saturday and Sunday–not for food but for conversation in an eccentric, historic environment.

Charlie Nye, Jr.: Curiosity seekers are coming in constantly. They say, ‘I didn’t know this was a bar. It doesn’t look like a bar. I often wondered what this place looked like. It looks like a curiosity shop’.

The Reefs II, as many knew it, doesn’t exist anymore–and I believe Charlie Nye has moved to Mexico.

Big waves brought The Reefs down:

Posted on

Remembering Alves Dairy: Part III

In 1978, a few days before the famous Alves Dairy, south of Half Moon Bay, famous for its delicious chocolate milk, closed its doors forever, I had the opportunity to interview owner Ernie Alves.

Ernie Alves.

Ernie Alves was telling me how he recalled, with accuracy, the construction of a milk plant. The way he remembered, he said, was because WW II began, and he couldn’t forget that time. There were two German bricklayers working for his family and the war directly affected these men.

Ernie: They passed a regulation that any aliens–Germans, Italians and Japanese could not cross west of the white line. (The white land separated the west side of the “highway” from the east side). The two bricklayers were German and they couldn’t come to work anymore. The man who ran the bakery was Italian and he couldn’t go to work, but his sons who were born here, could.

It was a terrible when Coastside residents without American citizenship could not cross Main Street to buy groceries or eat dinner or hug their friends. Although the bitterness of those times has carried over until this very day, everyone was relieved when the war ended.

Ernie Alves said his family processed raw milk until 1946. Then, he noted, the county and state passed a law requiring milk to be pasteurized.

Drive-ins had caught the imagination of the post WWII consumer; they were novel and helped usher in the fast food conept. About 1962 the Alves family built their own drive-in dairy south of Half Moon Bay.

Ernie: That is to say, Alves explained, if you had a herd and you had your own store you could sell milk for two to three cents lower than the prices a store could at that time. The state had complete control of prices. We were open six months and they changed the law. We had to sell at the same price as the stores.

So soon they had lost their competitive edge–and that was the beginning of the end of drive-ins.

In 1941 the Alves Dairy sold milk for ten cents a quart. They could turn a profit on that–but by 1978 it had become impossible and that was a big reason why the dairy was closing down.

Ernie: We built this place and we had to borrow. We’ve been forced to lower our price per gallon,which to me is utterly ridiculous. I would like to take those people and give them our operation for six months and see what they can do. They’ll probably be slaughtering cows to eat.

Now the closing of the Alves Dairy was a few days away.

June: How do you feel?

Ernie: It seems strange but I’m also kind of glad to get away from it. I’ve got a lot of irons on the fire.

Although the dairy closed, the “Our Cows Are Outstanding In Their Field” sign stayed up for awhile longer, then it, too, vanished forever.

Posted on

Everybody Loves Bev Cunha Ashcraft

This is what Cunha’s Country Store (left side) looked like when it was built in 1900–but it wasn’t a grocery, rather the popular Index Saloon and a habidashery moved in. The saloon attracted so many thirsty customers that the building at Kelly & Main was called the “Index Corner”.
A parade marches by Cunha’s (background,left side)
The Cunha family purchased the Index Corner circa 1920s, 30s, somehwere around there. Here’s owner Bev (Cunha) Ashcraft and friends in the 1970s. In the 1950s architectural changes were made to the building and the old-fashioned cupola was removed.photo Jerry Koontz
Inside Cunha’s: Everybody loves Bev: A happy Bev laughs with a friend. There’s no way you can think of Cunha’s and not think of Bev Ashcraft–they have always been inseparable.
a total loss–but soon Cunha’s rose from the ashes and one morning while passing by I snapped this picture
One last fun photo–On the second floor of Cunha’s there used to be a stage used by the locals for plays and musical productions and political events. Here it is: On the left that’s my ex, John, I that’s John Evans in the center, and Chad Hooker and me on the far right. (Click on any photo to enlarge)