You’ve gotta check out SF artist Sesame Buckner’s website
Iâm feeling high anxiety about watching the last episode of the Sopranos. I fear it coming and Iâm not sure Iâm ready to watch HBOâs solution for me and other soon-to-be depressed viewers, the visual sedative, the tranquilizer, if you willâand thatâs the first showing of âJohn From Cincinnati,â? or whatever itâs called– scheduled to air right after the possibly bloody resolution of the Soprano epic.
âJohn from Cincinnati,â? the new surfer dude series that the folks at HBO hope will take my mind off the fact, the reality, that there will be no more Sopranos for me to look forward to on Sunday evenings. [To be fair, the intriguing promo features âJohnâ? in full surfer costumeâblack wetsuit, minus his surfboard, standing on dry land–but as if he were riding a wave, that is, his feet are a couple of feet of the ground.]
Itâs been years and years and Iâm attached to Tony and his family.
And how I looked forward to seeing my âlittleâ? friends in hi def on our 40-plus inches flat screen.
I have a confession, though: last weekâs thrilling episode moved too fast and didnât work for me. Tony Sopranoâs fall through space, with bullets flying all around him, felt too hurried and thatâs why I fear the final episode. I just never imagined Tony, the family man, huddled alone in a room with a loaded rifle.
Somebodyâs in a rush to get this all over with and Iâm not sure I can face it. Maybe Iâll watch the rerun.
That’s Half Moon Bay in the distance–with the San Mateo-Half Moon Bay Road leading to the town. Note: there doesn’t seem to be anything on either side of the road–which means it must have been taken prior to the 1940s.
The Hoovers spent many happy years at Rancho del Oso, south of Pescadero. When Mildred died in 1940, Theodore was grief-stricken but found solace in the memory of the Taj Mahal he had visited decades earlier. He recalled that this “wonder of the world” had been built in honor of a lost love–and Rancho del Oso–his natural wonder–was a testament to Mildred, his lost love.
Hoover eloquently expressed this sentiment in the epilogue of Mildred’s memoirs.
“I now understand,” Hoover wrote, “and see clearly that it was his attempt to form a concrete expression of that haunting mixture of pain and pleasure that is in the hearts of all good men who have ever loved and long loved and lost a loving and good woman.”
Theodore Jesse Hoover died at age 85 at his beloved Rancho del Oso in 1955. He never achieved the fame and notoriety of brother Herbert–but he lived a full life and is remembered fo rhis great love for a wonderful woman.
Theodore “Tad” Hoover was an early conservationist–and an honorary Fish and Game warden, a job he took very seriously.
In the 1930s, near full retirement, he was patrolling Waddell Creek on a Sunday, as was his custom, when he discovered three high school boys. They were fishing the headwaters of Waddell Creek far up in Big Basin country outside the Hoover preserve.
Upon questioning the kids, Hoover discovered they had been fishing without a license and had caught more than the legal limit of trout–way over the limit.
The boys explained that part of the catch was from the previous day and that they intended to bring home the entire batch to friends and family to show what great fishermen they were.
If that excuse wasn’t good enough, the boys offered another: the only reason they were there was because the game warden’s brother, President Hoover, had had terrific luck at that spot.
Theodore Hoover was unimpressed with both explanations even though one of the boys was the son of a state senator. He arrested them, confiscating as evidence the prize of their efforts, a magnificent 24-inch trout.
When the case came to trial, it was Theodore who urged the judge to be lenient.
…to be continued…
Yes, the Pescaderan’s called Theodore (“Tad”) Hoover, “Our Mr. Hoover.”
One story that was told and retold–never failing to bring a smile–probably took place in 1935 when former President Herbert Hoover attended a barbecue with Stanford faculty and students at brother Tad’s ranch. On the beautiful drive to the Waddell, the ex-president’s car had a flat tire near the Old Davenport Landing.
A neighbor, County Supervisor Pinkham, offered to help. When he recognized the famous passenger, Pinkham said, “You’re ‘our’ Mr. Hoover’s brother, aren’t you?”
…to be continued…