Half Moon Bay Memories & El Granada Observer

Prelude to the “Ladies Home Companion� by June Morrall

(Photo of Michael Powers, circa 1974, by photographer Dennis Swenson).

In the 1970s, Michael Powers’ Miramar home overlooking the surf was an artistic center of gravity.

Outdoors–that’s where Michael could most often be found–carving designs into massive logs, building a unique and steep stairway down to the beach, hosting community events between an eye-catching A-frame with a concrete statute on top and a more traditional geodesic dome.

Michael climbed the nearby mountains and brought back hefty eucalyptus logs to fashion into a one-of-a-kind curvy staircases. He was (and remains) in superb physical shape, a long beach trot was part of his daily regimen– and one day when an abandoned golden retriever followed me home from the post office, it was Michael who made the dog his pet– a dog that loved the unrestrained beach life as much as his new master.

In the 1970s, there was no one like Michael Powers. Smiling, with arms akimbo, he talked enthusiastically about new projects to other artists and photographers that happened by the high energy “scene.”{ Some of them stayed and helped Michael build the dome and A-frame.)

Michael Powers snapped pictures of the colorful flower- filled fields of Half Moon Bay, his young friends riding horses on the beach and playing in the surf in his front yard. Once a year he and his very gracious brother, Pat, also a photographer, packed up their collection of pictures, jumped into the car and drove to the East Coast to sell the images to the big greeting card companies. The annual trek became a signal for some Coastsiders that the summer was over.

Another high energy “sceneâ€? evolved at Bruce Pine’s “Potter Plantationâ€? in Half Moon Bay– an older home on Potter Street with an authentic windmill (all still standing in the middle of a cluster of million-dollar subdivision homes). Bruce Pine’s sundeck became famous for the beautiful, nude bodies that graced it.

According to one story Bruce Pine loves to tell, in the 1970s, neighbors within range, took out their binoculars to see who was tanning themselves on the deck that day. They might catch a glimpse of Jerry, Mark, Flower and many others–all basking. Bruce, himself, was often not at home at his Potter Plantation house, business taking him to cities all over the country.

Separated by four miles, the artists and photographers traveled back and forth between the deck at the Potter Plantation and Michael Power’s tabernacle.

….more to come…

As told to me by Bruce Pine.

In an earlier incarnation, the Moss Beach Distillery was known as the Galway Bay Inn. Very Irish. Napkins with four leaf clovers. Pleasant Sunday brunches.

And the link to Ireland via the Galway Bay Inn was kind of a throwback for Moss Beach–in the 1890s the Coastside resort, popular for its marine curiosities, became home to the John Kyne family, who were Irish to their core.

But when the Moss Beach Distillery was originally built in the late 1920s, it was named after Frank, the Peruvian owner– and the comings and goings at the roadhouse during Prohibition earned the place fame and notoriety. There were sightings of silent film stars, of San Francisco politicians, too.

In the 1970s three businessmen, Paul, Sam and Dave purchased the Galway Bay Inn, with its Irish theme, with plans of returning the restaurant to its Prohibition theme. Dave even tracked down the stained glass windows that had never been picked up from the artist who custom- made them for Frank’s classic bar.

As a final touch, the trio placed a vintage “still” outside the restaurant but according to my sources, the authorities called it illegal and made them move it elsewhere.

In the 1970s–when there wasn’t much construction on the isolated Coastside– the Distillery was a comfortable place to dine and enjoy drinks at the bar. The owners recognized the importance of being on the premises–especially Dave, who often bartended, and knew the names of all the locals.

I think it was Sam who had family in Marin County and inherited a 1936 Pierce Arrow, the very epitome of the “gangster car.” The Pierce Arrow was very cool but it didn’t run ; it needed work and had to be towed down to Half Moon Bay– and eventually to Bruce Pine’s place known as the “Windmill House” on Potter Street. Bruce possessed the skills and talent to get the vintage automobile running.

Sam had a plan for the Pierce Arrow’s future home–when it was all fixed up, he wanted to park the antique in front of the restaurant.

It was going to take a while to get the car in good shape. Meanwhile Sam told Bruce that whenever he was taking the Pierce Arrow out for a “test drive, ” he should tool on up to the Distillery. That happened a few times. Bruce would call Sam at the Distillery and tell him he was taking the 1936 Pierce Arrow out for a test drive to Moss Beach.

As soon as Sam knew the car was coming, he had to make sure that the space was clear in front of the Distillery, that no one else had parked their car there–the spot in front of the Distillery was considered a prestige parking space, announcing to all of Moss Beach who was inside.

Meanwhile the photographer Jerry Koontz had been renting a room at Bruce Pine’s “Windmill House” in Half Moon Bay. It was the 1970s; the old order was breaking down. Playgirl Magazine had been founded in 1973 and a local publishing company (consisting of several women, more on that later) decided to shoot male nudes for a calendar and a deck of playing cards. At the time shooting male nudes for a calendar was a big shock and the company had a hit on their hands. Jerry Koontz, sans clothing, appeared on one of the playing cards.

Jerry’s experience had been heady, the brush with fame; he was feeling bold and ready for an adventure when he and his girlfriend jumped into the back seat of the 1936 Pierce Arrow that Bruce was driving to the Distillery.

Truth be told, there was mischief in Jerry’s eyes.

As usual Sam cleared the space in front of the Distillery and Bruce parked the gangster car there.

Suddenly, without warning, Jerry and his girlfriend shed their clothes, jumped out of the car and, stark naked, the two of them streaked through the dining room, startling everyone; they made a quick dash through the crowded bar as heads turned to watch them run out the front door, and into the 1936 Pierce Arrow for a quick getaway with Bruce Pine at the wheel.

“Those were fun times,” Jerry Koontz told me the other day. Indeed.

(Image: Jerry Koontz)