Coastside Characters – Page 4 – Half Moon Bay Memories

August 6, 2006

Clay Fountain: One-Of-A-Kind Man (Part 1)

During 1980-81, I worked on a t.v. documentary, called âThe Mystery of Half Moon Bayâ?.

Clay Fountain, whose comments follow, had campaigned for the 1976 California Coastal Act and had been the El Granada postmaster. Yesâhe was eccentric– today some would say radicalâbut he was also very kind. I remember one time he called me after the post office had closedâhe told me a special package had arrived (it was my birthday) and he waited for me to come and pick it up.

Clay Fountain is no longer with us. A Half Moon Bay friend brought me along to visit him before he passedâhe was then living in a Foster City âhomeâ? but the elderly widower suffered from Alzheimerâsâ¦.

–On Growthâ

ââ¦that all started in 1971 when the Granada Sanitary District and the Half Moon Bay City Council voted to form a joint powers agency which would have authority to get grant funds and build a $5 million sewage disposal facilityâ¦.

âA group of citizens banded together in opposition to building that disposal plant because it was meant to open up the area for high-density housing and industry and commerce.

âWe were able to get an injunction. Fred Lyon (who became a County Supervisor) came into the picture at that time. He was just a law student but he helped to prepare it.

âWe had an organization called SOS, Save Our Shoreline..”

–Living On The Coastside–

âI came here because it was a pastoral sceneâit was pleasant and serene and Iâd like it to kind of stay that way.

âThe whole massive growth thingâbig institutions, big governmentâ¦everything seems to keep getting bigger and bigger. And the individual is either being turned into a zombie or is being made into a kind of slave for this massivity.

âI campaigned hard for Prop. 20 [1976 California Coastal Act which greatly limited Coastside construction) and I was glad it passed and it passed very strongly in this area because [pause] natural beauty, scenic majesty ought to be like the air, you shouldnât have to pay for it and it shouldnât be cluttered up.

âThe cosmos gives us these things.”

–Clay Fountainâs Philosophy–

âI have a very peculiar sense of what ownership isâ¦I think the cosmos owns everything and that it’s improper for people to buy it or steal it or seize it and say, now this is mine, and Iâm the only one to use it.

âI think the cosmos owns everything. The earth belongs to all of us and we ought to be humble about that and use it not for vain glory, not to get fatter than anyone or richer and use what abundance there is on earth in a fair and pleasant way.”

…to be continued…

July 27, 2006

History Of A Coastside Musician: Fayden’s Story

On that sizzling hot weekend a few days ago, Coastside musician/artist Fayden drove from Half Moon Bay to Redwood City where he had a musical reunion with friends he hadn’t seen in 38 years.

The guys rented a hall that wasn’t air conditioned “so playing acid rock four-feet up on a stage full of Marshall amps was brutal—— but fun!!!”

When I arrived on the Coastside in the early 1970s, everybody knew Fayden. Well…I’ll let him tell his story as a musician, filled with sweet memories…..

“The band I played with was called “Time”; we were a major player on the peninsula,we played with Country Joe and the Fish, and released a 45.

Before this (and what really made me want to be in music) I knew a wonderful
Italian family who lived down the street from where I grew up.They kind of adopted me
(my parents weren’t home much) and I was there more than not.

The dad was in partnership with two other guys who managed the “New Bedouins”.
He would take me to their performances, and sometimes the group would let me sit in for the
warm-ups as the drummer usually didn’t arrive until the last minute
from his regular job.

This group became the original “Grassroots” that did “Where were you when I needed you?”, and “Mr.Jones”, by Bob Dylan.

Anyway, I popped my lung singing with the band “Time” (acid rock),and so had to start playing more acoustically/folk type music,

I went to Hollywood and worked with Jackson Browne, Dobie Gray, Karen Gunderson (New Christy Minstrels), Lee Mallory (Millennium).

Half the time I was in Hollywood, the other half in the Bay Area– when up here I lived with Ron and Sue Wickersham. Ron was the main
engineer/electrical genius for Pacific recording on El Camino Real and Hwy 92. I got to work with a lot of the people from the Avalon/Fillmore, Tony Lenzini (Steve Miller) Cork Seagull,
Fred Catero, David Rubinson (San Francisco records),

Backin the sixties musicians ran around like a bunch of quaking ducklings whoever was around played, and it was wonderful!!!

I had a little shack in El Granada, and was playing over at the Miramar beach Inn (then called the Shelter Inn, then the Spouter Innor visa versa). Patrick Simmons, and Tyranne (went on to be DoobieBros.), and Peter Grant (played with the “Dead”), and I played there.
Also Mike Mindell (Uncle Jim’s music), Sonny Terry, Brownie Mcghee,Jesse (the lonecat) Fuller (wrote San Francisco Bay Blues), TomScribner(played musical saw on a Beatles song), Hot Tuna and the list goes on.

Clay Fountain, Mike Conrad, Bill Middlejohn, Harry Moore, Kay Quadra,Anthrax (Electra records), so many people (the regulars) played atthe Shelter/Spouter Inn and we all played together later in the
evenings.

I went to Europe and cut a solo album while on tour with a groupcalled “Steam Hammer”. This was a side group for Ion Anderson. While there I was offered a chance to be in the “Doobie Bros.” by the man who gotthe front money from Warner Bros., His name was Paul–he was one
of the guys from the group “The Mojo Men” who took their royalties and built and owned Pacific Recording where just about all of thesixties albums were made.

If I had known Pat, and Ty were going to be in the group, I would have probably not opted for the solo l.p. andcome back to the states. My l.p. went to the Cannes music festival (representing Bellaphon records.)

I was the first American to write against the Viet Nam War (outside this country). This l.p was blacklisted in the U.S.A.–however it did really well every where else.

When I got back to the U.S.A., I hooked up playing in smaller coffee houses again, recording and working with other folks, who, like myself, were largely the wind beneath the wings of folks most people have heard of.

Chuck Portz was the bassist in the Turtles– he and I had a little band in Montara in the early 1970s. The last time I played (using my union card) was with Waylon and Willie, substituting
for and “Outlaw”, at the Concord Pavillion in 1976.

Then I started building/repairing guitars instead of playing them.

P.S. I play guitar, bass, banjo, mandolin, dulcimer,keyboards, handsaw, and vocals. A little drums, brass, and fiddle.

I’ve written hundreds of songs.

I play and write in a John Fahey, Leo Kottke, style however usually
end up jamming with people in a bluegrass or blues capacity.

June 23, 2006

Moss Beach Shrink Psychoanalyzes “The Coastsider” In 1980

In 1980 I interviewed Moss Beach psychiatrist Dr. Dorothy Zietz for “The Mystery of Half Moon Bay”. Her office was located in her home, a modern redwood house overlooking the sea.

Dr. Zietz arrived on the Coastside in 1959 and when I met her 20 years later, she said not much had changed.The Coastside was still relatively isolated, with many reminders of its rural past. The passage of Proposition 20 had limited development in the old Ocean Shore Railroad towns.

Most important, Dr. Zietz told me that the people hadn’t changed either. They were still “Coastsiders” as they once were.

“There’s no government here, no sense of community,” Dr. Zietz said. “No sense of neighborhood…Each small community is autonomous onto itself,” Dr. Zietz said, not complaining.

She added, again not complaining, that the “Board of Supervisors is not as aware of us as they might be. Things go on here that are not tolerated in Redwood City…We don’t want government interference, that’s what this country was based on….The old frrontierism is an attraction. On the Coastside there’s a chance to be free of things the urban person has to conform to…”

“Half Moon Bay and Pacifica are very different. Pacifica has a very identifiable government, their choice. We resist that in the true tradition of American spirit. We resist that. We don’t want a six-lane highway.”

“A highly socialized person could not exist here,” she told me. “There are no planned activities–that’s why we’re here…The person who chooses to stay does not need great contact with other people. There’s not much communication between people, nothing to join– yet there’s joining.”

In Dr. Zietz’s opinion, a society showed true maturity when the people could live without structure.

June 21, 2006

Ed Bauer Talks About Growth In 1980

Ed Bauer moved to Half Moon Bay in 1960 where he became the publisher and editor of the Half Moon Bay Review for about 25 years.

(In 1980 I interviewed him for my documentary, âThe Mystery of Half Moon Bayâ?. Here are some quotes that did not air).

On Growth:

âThe community was essentially rural [when Ed arrived in 1960]. A rural community with an emphasis on agriculture. And it was just beginning to change from an agricultural area to a commuter or suburban area.

âWhen I came here they were building 9-10 houses a year on the whole Coastsideâthat would be from San Gregorio into Montara.

âAnd the cost of lots in Montara was from $300 to $400 which was less than the sewer assessment for the lot. So it was still pretty muchâ¦Iâd describe it s a rural area in transitionâ¦.

â…In the 1960s I made a statement that I didnât want to see Half Moon Bay become another Pacifica. We wanted balanced growth. We didnât want to see ultra-high density population and rows and rows f houses with no open space.

âWhat we were looking for was balanced growth. Thereâs enough area over here for a balance in the growth.

âI think this is what the City of Half Moon Bay has been attempting to accomplishâof having a balance between open space and housing.

âOne of our biggest concerns was the people of San Franciscoâwe could see them pouring into Pacifica which had this ultra-high population density. And, with this came problems in schools, crime, and traffic, public activities and taxes.

âYou get whatâs called a âbedroom communityâ which has an economic imbalance.

âWe want to have some agriculture. We wanted to have some fishing. We wanted to have jobs for people who live hereâ¦â?

On the Coastal Commission

âParts of coastal communities in California are exempt from the Coastal Commision: L.A., Santa Cruz, San Francisco, exempt. By political pressure they were able to get special concessions because they have more political muscle.

âThe Coastal Commission is one law for one group, another law for another group.

âHalf Moon Bay, because of the lack of political muscle, couldnât stand up to the Coastal Commission the way other cities could on the coast.

âFrenchmanâs Creek is a typical example. Quite a few homes were bought by people who lived in the area, then they made a return on their houses at Frenchmanâs Creek. Some of
the very same people have gone to the Golf Links.

ââ¦I donât think Montara Mountain is going to be packed with house side-byside. I think even if the Coastal Commission hadnât been in effect, there are certain pressures operating, just like they operated against the Ocean Shore Railroad.â?

May 26, 2006

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

May 9, 2006

Real Coastsiders Know Fayden

The two sides of Fayden as he relaxes in my “old” backyard ” 30 years ago when, as he says, “we were all hanging out”– in the background a snap-together geodesic dome “invented” by my ex.

Fayden played with a rock group; was it The Turtles?

February 28, 2006

Kid Zug: Part III

Itâs true that Kid Zugâs boxing skills were a shadow of what they had been 35 years earlierâand that his opponent, âHappyâ? Frey had a big-mouthâbut for the boys in the village of Pescadero, a boxing match with world champ Abe Attell could not have brought them more excitement.

Details of the 1918 event remain sketchy but as the day of the fight drew near people came from all around.

When the moment finally arrived, the combatants entered the ring and the crowd was breathless. Kid Zug was stone-faced and silent. Happy Frey was clearly nervous and ringsiders wondered if either fighter was sober.

The referee spoke to them for a moment and signaled for the bell to start the fight.

Both boxers were tentative. Zug kept his hands high to protect his scarred face. Happyâs inexperience quickly presented an opening for the Kid who launched a solid right cross which staggered Happy and knocked out several of his teeth.

The fight was over.

Although the ending was unexpected, the stunned crowd seemed satisified with the outcomeâespecially those that had bet on the Kid.

Zugâs ability to strike so swiftly at his advanced age amazed everyone.

Pescaderans would never forget the short boxing match on San Gregorio Street.

But a year later, in the summer of 1919, a brutal murder occurred in Pescadero. It ws a seamy case involving the slaying of a wealthy, elderly widowâand all bets were that the people Zug worked for had something to do with it.

Around this time it was report4d that Zug fell ill with pneumonia. In Pescadero many villagers were coming down with the dreaded âSpanishâ? flu, the post-World War I influenza pandemic that took the lives of millions worldwide.

Some insiders suspected that Zugâs illness might have presented a perfect cover to get him out of town during the murder investigation.

For weeks the Kid was confined to a hospital room in San Mateo. As soon as he recovered, to everyoneâs astonishment, Zug was back on the wooden sidewalks of Pescadero, intimidating and menacing.

Not long after returning to town, Zug faced real trouble. According to official court testimony and leaks to the local press, he was a major principle in an assault case. On a late Saturday night in September 1919 the lightweight pugilist was accused of badly beating 40-year-old Frank Goularte, the 190-pound son of the Pescadero blacksmith. In the melee, Goularte suffered two black eyes, a fractured nose and bruises on his face and head.

While he was being patched up, authorities questioned Frank Goularte.

â¦.To be continued

February 24, 2006

The Man Who Called Himself “Kid Zug”: Part I

(Note: The true story of âKid Zugâ? was stitched together, using old newspapers to pick out a description here, another thereâuntil I gathered enough pieces for a word picture).

âKid Zugâ?: Part I

In 1918 workmen hurriedly erected an outdoor prize fight ring on the saloon-fronted San Gregorio Street in Pescaderoâand everybody buzzed about the upcoming boxing match between the newly arrived âKid Zugâ? and his local opponent, âHappyâ? Frey.

In California boxing was illegalâso was gamblingâand had it been any place other than Pescadero, the authorities would have clamped down. But this was Pescaderoâwest of the magnificent redwood forest on San Mateo Countyâs remote South Coastâand outsiders didnât care (or know) what was going on there.

The village of Pescadero was about 70 years old in 1918âbut it was local lore that you could tell what was fashionable by the contents of the cargo salvaged from the last shipwreck.

In the 1890s, for example, horse-and-buggy tourists were surprised to see every single house in town with a fresh coat of white paint. They learned that the Pescaderans had been the beneficiaries of a bonanza in the form of tons of paint salvaged from the shipwrecked vessel Colombia.

A quarter century later it was more likely that the villagers would be salvaging cases of illegal liquor from the unlucky bootlegging fishing trawlers that had crashed into the dark rocky reefs on moonless nights.

Newcomers to the Coastside village, particularly those with the ârightâ? connections, quickly discovered that slot machines and card games were found in a two=story house at a curve on the lonely road leading east into the redwoods.

Even more fascinating were the rumors that certain county officials were regularly in attendance, playing the one-armed bandits.

Among the intriguing newcomers was a ruddy, scar-faced ex=pugilist who called himself âKid Zugâ?.

He was seen paling around with the owner of the gambling joint. Although âthe Kidâ? explained his presence in town by saying he was a house painter, he was never seen holding a paintbrush. He was much more often seen tipping back a glass of beer at one of the four saloonsâand he never ceased menacing those around them.

It didnât take long for the locals to learn the truth: Kid Zug was really in town to act as a strong-arm enforcer.

To be continuedâ¦.

January 27, 2006

“The Hen”

I hope Iâm not being disrespectful calling him âthe Henâ?– but that was shorthand for a native of Half Moon Bayâs Great Uncle Henry Debenedetti,

Henry Debenedetti must have been in his early 80s when I met him in the 1970s in the Half Moon Bay libraryâ his voice in the lower registers, reminding me that faraway Italy was tucked away in his soul– he told me that we were standing in a former apricot orchard and that the fruit had been packed on the very spot where we were talking in hushed tones.

Henry would know these things. He was born in Half Moon Bay, as was his gregarious sister, Irene who wed Judge Manuel Bettencourt, and their father, Joseph, was a respected member of the community, a businessman, a county supervisor, and the developer of the Main and Kelly Street corner building Cunhaâs Country Store now occupies.

That was in 1901âand it was such a momentous addition to the rustic country village– that Sunset Magazine sent a photographer to take a picture of the new building.

(Photo at right: Courtesy Sunset Magazine)

The Debendetti family owned much of the block stretching from Cunhaâs north to the building on the opposite corner, across from the San Benito House. Itâs easily identified today because itâs marked as the âDebenedetti Blockâ?.

From the second floor balcony, the Debenedettis dressed in their finest, stood and watched the spectacle of the 4th of July parades– and horse racing that took place when Main Street was just a dirt road.

Henryâs love of horse racing led to the lifelong habit of driving his old car, the color of dull green, to Bay Meadows Race Track in San Mateo where he spent most of the day. In the 1970s it was easy to identify Henryâs car because there wasnât much traffic moving up and down Main Street. I quickly became aware of him, wearing his rumpled clothes and brown hat. One time I was at Bay Meadows and so was he, and we cordially exchanged greetings.

When I met Henry, he still lived by himself in the old Debendetti Building, on the second floor. I recall walking up the dark staircase to the upper floor where he showed me his books and many albums filled with fading family photos.

(Photo at left: “The Hen” lived on the second floor of the “Debenedetti Block” building, in the foreground).

His biggest regret was that dreams of a college education were crushed when he fell ill with tuberculosis and was shipped off to a special hospital to recover. He was away from Half Moon Bay for a long time and when he returned things were never the same for âthe Henâ?.

Almost every night Henry Debenedetti went to the library to read and to remember where the sweet apricot orchard once stood.

January 5, 2006

Three Richards….

But I have a photo of only one.

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.