1959: When the “Beat Scene” Hit Miramar Beach, Part III

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“The idea of running a little joint appealed to me because, after all, the fantasy of every former beatnik or would-be beat type was an espresso shop,” Pete Douglas recalled. “Not that I had that directly in mind–but that was the fantasy, to drop-out and run your own little joint…”

Pete told me that “the stereotype of the laid-back beat was to have his coffee shop with cards, poetry books, chess, etc.”

In 1959 Mirada Road, sometimes called “the strip”, still retained a flavor from rumrunning days when the Coastside was “wide open.” The once stunning Palace Miramar Hotel stood brooding at the southern end of the road–while at the northern end the Ocean Beach Tavern (the present-day Miramar Beach Inn) was a roadhouse with official Prohibition era bona fides.

In the middle of the road stood Douglas’ tiny coffee shop. It had once been home to the notorious Drift Inn Cafe, where, Pete said, the bartendress often passed out dead drunk and kept an oak club handy so she could bonk undisciplined customers on the head.

…To be continued…

1959: When the “Beat Scene” Hit Miramar Beach, Part II

DSCN0780-thumbnail.jpgOn that hot Sunday in 1959, Pete Douglas sasid Mirada Road looked like a “poor man’s movie set–with crazies auditioning for the roles. It was the kind of hard-leather, levi, greasy, bearded, crazy hat kind of scene.”

It was also a very democratic scene, with every strata of society represented. Joining the revelers were “playboys from Marin”, who stepped out of their sleek, candy apple red Corvette and went arm-in-arm with “heavily made-up chorus girls from the City.” One fellow wore an “authentic Cavalry uniform” with a saber tucked in the belt.

Douglas was looking forward to witnessing the reaction of the sociology teacher and his herd of students due to arrive for a lesson in “Something a little different on the beach.”

A family man at the time, Pete Douglas said he was leading a double life. On weekdays he worked as a “respectable county official (probation officer), wearing a gray flannel suit and button-down collar.” On weekends he shed the establishment image for a uniform including beltless levis (“It was not cool to wear a belt.”), sneakers, black turtleneck and an old captain’s hat. Appropriately attired, he presided over a “Sunday afternoon drop in, open-house-kind-of-thing.” The Ebb Tide was a place where people “fell in” and new people met.

…To be continued…

1959: When the “Beat Scene” Hit Miramar Beach, Part I

[Prologue: To the young bohemians, the unpleasant message of the 1950s was that it was not the individual that was important, it was the individual’s possessions. The bohemians chose to live in abandoned warehouse lofts, took menial jobs–or didn’t work at all.

They were fervently anti-establishment. And jazz music was their religion. Many came from middle class homes and rattled the nerves and sensibilities of their elders as they spewed a mumbo jumbo about “acting out” and unleashing their inhibitions. They were members of the Beat Generation who patterned their lives on characters in Jack Kerouac’s book, “On The Road.” They revered the existentialist French philosopher Jean Paul Sarte and hung out at the City Lights bookstore near the cafes in North Beach in San Francisco.]

Photo: The Douglas brothers, Pete and Jack, hang loose at the Ebb Tide Cafe.

On a balmy Sunday afternoon in the fall of 1959, a ragtag crew of pranksters spilled out of the funky Ebb Tide Cafe onto dusty Mirada Road overlooking the sparkling Pacific Ocean at Miramar Beach. They were madly gyrating to the soundtrack from the celebrated movie, “Black Orpheus”–whose spectacular backdrop was the kaleidoscopic carnival in Rio de Janiero.

“It’s the music of the slums on the hills overlooking Rio de Janiero. In the hot sun, there’s nothing like it,” Pete Douglas, concert manager of the acclaimed Miramar Beach jazz house, the Bach Dancing & Dynamite Society, told me in 1979. Twenty years earlier the thin and wiry Douglas was in his late 20s–and the owner of the funky Ebb Tide Cafe–a weekend coffee shop and hangout for part-time Coastside beatniks.

…to be continued…

Very…Very….Interesting But “Next” May Make You Feel Uncomfortable…

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The legal possibilities addressed in Michael Crichton’s new biotech mindstretcher called “Next” are apparently already happening even if you weren’t aware of it.

Like the bitter divorce, involving child custody…where the husband requires that his wife take a battery of DNA tests to determine if she is a fit mother….

Like the black sheep of a family who never thought her father was really her father–and when he dies in a suspicious car accident, she calls the hospital and asks that they draw samples of blood from his body for DNA testing…

Like the man who is cured of cancer and believes he is healthy when, suddenly his doctor, who doesn’t fully explain his actions, brings him back to the hospital for test after test–as well as signatures on legal documents. You’ll have to read the book to find out what happens in this twisty-turny story.

And I admire the way Crichton weaves together characters who seem to not be connected but they really are. Much of the action takes place in our own high-tech state of California–and, frankly, some of the characters may sound familiar even if you don’t recognize the name.

However, “Next” is not a legal thriller about the biotech world–it’s loaded with how, what and why people are manipulating DNA for this and that– and “Next”, which could have been named “Now”– may make you feel squeemish and uncomfortable–even when you learn there’s a “comfort” gene to take care of that problem.

Best of all, Michael Crichton is a good teacher who always keeps us up-to-date.

But what I haven’t figured out is why, when, I crack open the book, it makes so much noise. It’s a noisy book–you’ll see when you flex it.

Meet Me At The Occidental Hotel

…The popular 19th century Half Moon Bay hotel where intrepid stagecoach driver “Buckskin” Bob Rawls dropped weary passengers off– after a thrilling ride over dusty, serpentine Highway 92.

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Was The Shingle King Murdered? Part VI: Conclusion


[Purdy Pharis, “the Shingle King” had been spending all of his time alone on his 6,500-acre Kings Mountain ranch. He was paranoid, believing people were against him–leading friends to worry about his welfare…..]

The rest of the story came out during testimony before the coroner’s jury. Purdy Pharis’s neighbors Hiram Haskins and Emanuel Stevens were overnight guests of Pharis. In the evening, the men said, they heard a sound coming from Purdy’s bedroom, “like the dropping of a boot on the floor,” followed by moaning.

Early the next morning they again heard moaning. But this time they broke down the door and found their host, Sheldon Purdy Pharis dead.

His revolver lay in front of him, they testified, with one bullet having been fired.

The verdict of suicide was signed by seven of Purdy Pharis’s neighbors, all respectable men who had lived on Kings Mountain for decades.

According to “Sawmills in the Redwoods”, because Purdy Pharis was held in high esteem–and Hiram Haskins was not–the jurors would have been careful to recognize any inconsistencies in his testimony.

Also–Woodside dentist Dr. Tripp confirmed that Purdy Pharis had a troubled mind.

The only possible reason Purdy Pharis would have taken his own life, some believed, was because he was suffering from a mental illness.

Others have noted that the bullet entered the back of Purdy’s head–evidence of foul play. The county coroner ruled suicide but for years a neighbor was believed to have murdered Purdy Pharis. Had the shooting occured today there might have been a different verdict.

At the funeral in Redwood City, crowds came to pay their last respects to the Peninsula’s 19th century Shingle King. Many remained unconvinced Purdy Pharis had [or would] take his own life.

The full story of what happened to Sheldon Purdy Pharis at his Kings Mountain home in 1884 may never be known.

Was The Shingle King Murdered? Part V

[This is part Five of a story about Purdy Pharis, who became famous as the Coastside’s “Shingle King”–and whose cause of death is debated to this day. In Part IV, we ended with the successful Purdy Pharis surviving hard luck including an economic depression. For more details, read Parts I – IV)

…Then, natural disaster struck in 1890.

Farmers paid little heed to warnings and continued to burn straw piles and brush. Then one day, carelessness ignited a blaze. Whipping winds spread the fire–and soon it was out of control, heading in the direction of the Purisima. To fight the conflagration, the saw mill owners banded together, summoning all available woodchoppers and other crew members.

But the rush of hot flames moved too quickly, threatening both Purdy Pharis’ shingle mill and Borden & Hatch’s lumber mill.

When the fire was finally out, the mill owners stood among the embers of financial ruin. All that remained were charred redwood logs. Purdy Pharis’ mill sustained serious damage and the fire gutted the Borden & Hatch Mill–but both mills would be restored.

Four years later in 1884, friends of Purdy Pharis reported that the “Shingle King” was acting out of character. He began to believe that people talked about him behind his back and were against him. Some blamed his solitary existence, pointing out that Purdy spent too much time alone on his 6,500 acre ranch.

Neighbor Hiram Haskins became so concerned, according to “Sawmills in the Redwoods,” that he summoned Dr. Tripp, the dentist who could be found at the historic Woodside Store, Tripp talked to Purdy and urged him to see a physician in Redwood City–but the independently-minded Purdy Pharis would have none of it.

…To Be Continued…

Old Moss Beach Schoolhouse

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From the archives of the San Mateo County History Museum [filed under Margaret Kyne] located in the Redwood City Courthouse.

“… In 1890 a new one-room school was built in Sunshine Valley, which is now the home of Anthony Torre, and continued to be until 1910 when the present school was built. In those days attendeance was just as great as it is now with 45 to 50 in attendance.

Was The Shingle King Murdered? Part IV

The Shingle King lived off Starr Hill Road on the rim of the Corte Madera Canyon. To the west the rustic house featured spectacular far-off views of the Pacific Ocean–and to the northeast, glimpses of San Francisco.

Purdy Pharis’ friends, Hiram Haskins and Emanuel Stevens, lived nearby. Little is known about Stevens but HIram Haskins had been a stage driver in Arizona. He was not particularly well liked by his neighbors on the mountain. They regarded him a gruff and unrily “hermit” but Purdy Pharis liked him.

Purdy’s shingle business grew and he prospered, according to retired County Sheriff John G. Edmonds, author of “Union Cemetery, Redwood City,” the site where the “Shingle King” lies buried. He eventually produced 3 million shingles, writes Edmonds and was a respected employer with a national reputation.

Purdy Pharis was highly regarded–but the Borden & Hatch lumber mill gained even greater fame, becoming a household name–especially after the Spring Valley Water Company awarded the mill a lucrative contract in the 1870s.

Spring Valley’s contract required Borden & Hatch to deliver a 9-mile flume created from the strongest and most durable wood. The device had to be of first quality, as it carried the water from the upper levels of Montara Mountain. The mill owners did their job well. They cut the very best trees in the Purisima, and the flume endured for two decades.

But after the contract–when the prosperity and the heady feeling it produced had passed–things got very quiet in the Purisima. The lumber was depleted and the hard times hit, fueled by a general economic depression.

Then, natural disaster struck in 1880.

…To Be Continued…