Category: Coastside History

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Old Miramar Landmark Partially Destroyed By High Waves

The old landmark I refer to in the headline above was an historic wharf at Miramar, partly destroyed by huge waves in early November 1928 or 77 years ago.

About 150 feet of the wharf at Miramar Beach had been swept away by heavy seas and a team of men worked feverishly to retrieve the floating wood and debris.

It was originally known as Amesport Landing ( built by Judge Josiah P. Ames in 1868)–and after it was modernized, it was called Miguel’s Wharf, named after the Half Moon Bay family who built the beautiful glass-windowed and redwood shingled hotel called the Palace Miramar.

The pier and the hotel, once the site of Amesport Landing and a warehouse and customs house.

The wharf’s fame grew out of the Amesport, pre-Ocean Shore Railroad era when Miramar was the center of a tiny seafaring village, with a warehouse for shipping and receiving freight for the Coastside. There was a waterfront saloon and a customs house from which passengers bound for San Francisco boarded the colorful steamers “Maggie” and “Gypsy”.

(Valladao is a well known name in Half Moon Bay, and one of their family members, “J.C.” worked as a clerk in the custom’s office.)

It was Moss Beach writer, Peter Kyne, who fell in love with Miramar and the steamer “Maggie”, so much that he featured them in his first book, “The Green Pea Pirates”. Local legend has it that when Peter was a kid he watched the steamers stopping along the Coastside to drop a package of nails here and pick up a letter there.

Hearing about the pretty hotel, the wharf, the steamers and the writer who loved it all, makes you believe all was perfect in Miramar.

Nothing is ever perfect, and behind the facade was a longtime feud between the new hotel and wharf owners, the Miguels, and the Mullens, the former “power” at Miramar. The Mullens, whose lovely farmhouse still stands on the east side of Highway 1 in Miramar, had operated the Amesport Wharf until the landing lost its usefulness as a source of transportation and was plunged into bankruptcy.

Along came the Miguels with a well known architect’s plan for a beautiful hotel that would serve Ocean Shore Railroad passengers. The indoor salt water “plunge” and the restored wharf would knock the socks off visitors. It was inevitable that a confrontation would arise between the Mullens and the Miguels.

That story coming up soon!

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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.

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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.

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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:

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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.

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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)

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Remembering Alves Dairy: Part II

(Photo: A view of the drive-in part of Alves Dairy: )

In February 1978 Alves Dairy sold its last bottle of delicious chocolate milk. I interviewed owner Ernie Alves a few days before the famous south of Half Moon Bay dairy closed down forever. We stood outside the 1950s-style drive-in dairy and talked about the history of the Alves family and the dairy.

Part II

Ernie Alves struck me as a guy who knew everything about farming so I was amazed when he confessed, “As far as cows go, strange as it sounds, I have never milked a cow until a month ago. I’ve always been in processing. I had to give our milker a day off, so my wife, my daughter and I milked the cows. I guess we’ve done it about three times now.”

1977-78 had been a rough year for the Alves family. His brother Frank was driving the dairy’s van back from Pescadero when he was involved in an accident. Frank’s injuries included a twisted neck and broken back.

Ernie: It took three men to replace Frank. This last year has been one madhouse as far as I’m concerned.

That was one of the reasons the Alves family decided to close the dairy, lease the land and sell the cows.

Ernie’s ancestors immigrated from the Azore Islands, settling in Pescadero in the 1800s. The family produced cheese at the rustic Willowside Ranch on a stretch of scenic Stage Road marked by a grove of mammoth eucalyptus trees.

(Is this the colorful Willowside Ranch? photo by Suzanne Meek)

Ernie: My father told me that when he drove the cheese by wagon from Pescadero to Watsonville, they had to time it. By the time they got to Waddell Bluff, it had to be low tide or else there would be no beach.

The Alves family moved operations north to Half Moon Bay in the 1890s.

Ernie: My father knew it was noon when the stagecoach rumbled by–he was plowing the fields then.

About 1923 Ernie’s father gave up cheesemaking and purchased a lovely Victorian house on Kelly Avenue in Half Moon Bay.

(Photo: In the 1970s M/M Alves stand in front of their Victorian house on Kelly Ave, formerly known as the “Ben Cunha” house .

Ernie: Then we took one cow and somebody wanted milk. Pretty soon we had two cows, then three cows. When they got too large for back of the house, the cows were moved down to where the Little League fields are.

A decade later a barn was built with a room to bottle raw milk.

Ernie (a student at the time): We had a walk-in box and the whole bit.

Ten more years raced by and a bigger barn was built. The Alves converted a building near the Victorian house into a processing plant. The milk was carried in 10-gallon cans from the ranch (the Little League fields) to the plant.

Ernie: The way I remember that the plant was built in 1941 is that we had two bricklayers, and it was December of ’41 when we started it. The war had begun. Highway 1 wasnot here as you see it now: Main Street was Highway 1.

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Our Cows Are Outstanding In Their Fields: Remembering Alves Dairy, Part I

The Famous Sign, Now Gone: (Reminder: Click on any image to enlarge)

A few days before the famous Alves Dairy closed down in February 1978, I spoke to owner Ernie Alves. The 150-acre dairy, marked by its 1950s style drive-in store, specialized in delicious chocolate milk. More extraordinary was the funny marquee that always turned heads: “Our Cow Are Outstanding In Their Fields”.

Ernie (modestly) : It’s sort of a landmark. I’ve read articles in magazines where they said, ‘go as far as the dairy, then turn right to go to the beach.’ Ernie

June: Did you think up the catchy slogan?

Ernie: No, my son discovered it in Iowa.

June: What’s the secret of your chocolate milk?

Ernie: Everybody knows our chocolate milk. It’s whole milk. If you buy chocolate, and it says ‘drink’, it’s either nonfat or lowfat and the butter fat isnot there. The consistency is like watr. We use whole milk, quality chocolate and pure sugar.

June: Tell me about the cows? Are they special?

Ernie: Cows aren’t just cows. Each one has a personality. You’d be surprised. ‘Bayshore Dotty’ is the boss. Her name was Dotty but her number is 101 and somehow ‘Bayshore’ got thrown in. You know ‘Bayshore Dotty’ because if you do something in the corral, she’ll be right there. The other cows won’t move, but she is right there. You bring in a new cow and she lets it be known she’s the boss. They have their pecking order.

June: Any other cows you can tell me about?

Ernie: Chicken Little, now that cow is a nervous wreck. You touch her and she jumps.