Half Moon Bay Memories & El Granada Observer

Story by June Morrall

Do you know Collin Tiura? You’ve got to meet him. Yesterday he visited us at our home. He’s an adventurer with the best stories to tell—a man who’s done and seen everything and could survive anywhere he wanted to be.

When he was 20, and “this close” to being drafting into the Vietnam War, he asked the draft board how much time he had left before being called up. He was gonna go but he and his two buddies wanted to see Europe first.

He wanted to play by the rules. He asked the Draft Board if he could go on his trip to Europe for

“Two years?”

“No.”

“One year?”

“No.”

“Six months?”

“No.”

Heck, Collin just walked out of there, screw the draft board, and, with his pals, sold what they had, which wasn’t much, maybe $120 bucks of stuff total, so they could hitchhike from California to the East Coast and board a German tanker for Hamburg.

It took a lot of hitchhiking to get to the East Coast. And some of the drivers were, well, I don’t have to tell you that some of the drivers shouldn’t have been driving, and, Collin and the boys were ready to grab the steering wheel should the sudden need for it come up.

This was the mid-1960s, the cultural revolution was upending everything stodgy, and it was fun and Collin and his friends were really free and nobody was going to stop them from having the time of their young lives.

You can imagine the good times a trio of clever, strong “go-for-it” 20-year-olds had in a tanker, the cheapest way to get to Europe, a two week trip by water. There were a total of 9 passengers on aboard, including a couple of pretty American girls—and, when they got tired of looking at each other’s faces, there were enough cases of Beck’s Beer on board to drink as well as squirt at each other, apparently some sort of German tradition.

In Europe they hitchhiked and rode the train to France, to Spain and finally settled down in the Canary Islands, where they got paid to teach tourists to water ski and learn the finer points of underwater diving.

There was just one thing: Only 1 of them had ever water skied and it wasn’t Collin: truth be told, they were learning on the job but you can bet the tourists got their money’s worth.

The boys stayed in Europe a year-and-a-half and when they got back to California, the Draft Board was waiting with orders for them.

I, like Collin, have always enjoyed traveling to places few have seen. In a way, Europe was still like that in the 1960s—the continent was not a place where everybody traveled as if they were commuting to their daily job—as they do today in this global economy.

The only places I can think of that remain mysterious as a travel destination are Outer Space or Beneath the Sea.

I’ve only touched briefly on the flavor of Collin’s stories; we are hoping Collin will share his adventures with all of us in a book, or a movie—. Be sure to ask him about Alaska…

as told to me by Joni Keim. It goes something like this: Richard English owned an XKE in Half Moon Bay, a car that he loved, but while the body was in perfect condition, the engine was flawed.

Richard wanted an XKE with a perfect engine AND a perfect body.

His quest took him to Marin County, where an XKE with a good engine was for sale. But the body was blemished. Maybe he realized that you can’t have everything– because he bought it–and then, discovered that, with his great height and long legs, he couldn’t fit inside the sports car without banging his head.

The solution came quickly–He grabbed an axe and began tearing a hole in the roof’s cool metal, an opening large enough for his head of red hair to poke through.

(Do NOT attempt this –Photo courtesy Joni Keim; to visit her website, click here

A while ago I posted a story called “The Three Richards;” to read it, click here

The story begins: “Three Richards but I have a photo of only one.” At the time the only photo I had and posted was of Richard “the Englishman” Henry. I didn’t have a photo of “Rotten Richard” or of Richard English, not to be confused with Richard “the Englishman.”

Now, I am thrilled to report, I have three photos of “classic” Richard English, a very tall, red-headed charmer who passed away too young, too young (in his 50’s a couple of years ago.)

In the 1970s and early 1980s Richard was always leaving town, which meant there had to be a big, loud and warm going-away party in Princeton-by-the-Sea or Miramar Beach. When he soon came back there was no party but hugs all around.

Richard was ready to make you laugh hard most of the time–but he could also make you cry just as easily and just as hard.

Thank you Joni Keim for the photos. Joni lived in the “Quinta Marta” house in Montara in 1972. Click here for Joni’s website.

(Photo: Classic Richard English, photo courtesy Joni Keim)

(Photo: Richard English with Joni Keim.)

Look! Fayden’s Albums (now rare) Are Still Available
http://gemm.com/item/FAYDEN/PEACE–BALLADS/GML833931337/
PEACE BALLADS
FAYDEN

Fayden with friend Belinda.

Cathy Duncan came by to visit. She was thinking of changing her name to Day Keith. She lives in La Honda with “Peaches” who used to play the piano at the Moss Beach Distillery.

“In the spirit of love..May the circle be unbroken…” Here’s an invitation to Cathy Duncan’s wedding (to Frank A.) that took place at the Kings Mountain Firehouse on Sunday, April 20, 1980.

As the “illegal” handmade houses on John Wickett’s land attracted the attention of the local press, reporters made the difficult trek to the 4,400-acre Skyline property. Besides Kendall Whiting’s famous five-story- tall treehouse, reached by a rustic “outdoor elevator”, the men and women carrying reporter’s notebooks jotted down other activities they observed–silkscreening, glass blowing and pottery-making.

“There were lots of babies and children and cats. Lots of construction,” John Wickett told me. He said that the creative builders “ripped up parts of the old sawmill and used the wood to make little houses inside of bigger houses.”

Of course all building codes had been ignored. “Nothing had been done with building codes,” Wickett noted. This only caused the district attorney’s office to redouble their efforts to get the young free spirits off the property.

But time was still on John Wickett’s side.

While searching for a solution, John invited his son, Jim–then a student at Menlo College–to spend a summer on the Skyline land. He told Jim, “You can be helpful and get things a little bit organized. We’ve got all these materials that people are building their houses with…Maybe you could supervise a bit.”

Young Jim Wickett was so successful at his task that he stayed on after the school summer break was over. He still had much to straighten out as publicity about the place had reached far and wide. Strangers continued to arrive in caravans of day-glo painted school buses. Others camped out on the property and what was once pristine was now being threatened.

“It started becoming too much,” John Wickett said.

…To Be Continued…

Story by Fayden Holmboe

When I first moved to Half Moon Bay from the Hillsdale area in the late sixties, there were a few locals that certainly stood out and it was always interesting to visit with them.

Bruce Haig seemed old to me but he was probably only about fifty. He had a weathered face like a farmer who had worked the land for many decades. Bruce was an ageless thinker, and he had more cool solutions to expensive problems than anyone I’ve ever known.

I met Bruce about 1969 as he rode his bike up to the front yard of “Little Joeâ€? Cotruvos house on the corner of Santiago and Francisco in El Granada. Bruce always rode a bike when he was off work, wherever he went to on the coast. He might be the only person in history who could smoke a pipe continually while riding up hill. His pipe had a large stainless stem between the tobacco bowl and the mouthpiece. He put toilet paper in it and this acted as the filter, “economic and efficient”, he exclaimed, owning about eight of the same design.

Bruce’s home had a window facing west that was about four- feet- high, and six-feet- wide with a fine view of the harbor. He could see Snakehead Point (also known as Pillar Point) and to the south the fog horn on the breakwater.

About 1975 new neighbors built a two-story house on the lot immediately to the west of Bruce’s 4 x 6 foot window blocking his entire coastal panorama. There was nothing but a wall of stucco looking back at Bruce. Bleak at best and the only thing breaking up the monotony of the wall was a very small sliding glass window and that was way up on the second floor.

Bruce went over, pipe in mouth, introduced himself to the new neighbors and asked in his always low-key voice, would they mind if he “painted a mural on the blank wall of their home?” They said okay so Bruce drew what was missing from his ocean view on their stucco wall.

You could still see the “real view” from other windows in Bruce’s dining room. If you stood in the dining room you could compare the “real view” with the painted one on the stucco wall and then back again to the “real view”.

This same 4×6 window was broken in the top right corner, with about two feet missing from it. Most people would have replaced the window. Instead Bruce got out his salvaged pieces of stained glass, channeled lead, then made and installed a beautiful little stained glass sun with rays coming off it in this corner.

Bruce was the shop teacher at Hillcrest Reform School in San Mateo, and he had so many talents besides woodworking. A good sense of humor was one so the kids would obey him, I’m sure.

There were many dimensions to Bruce. He was an accomplished potter, had a kiln and a few potters’ wheels in the backyard. If he found a log in the woods or on the beach, he’d carve it; if he found some scrap metal he’d make a fancy wind vane out of it. But the result was never just average. Whatever Bruce Haig made was finished, thought out, and well done.

In the late sixties Bruce said he didn’t like the violence on t.v. so as his personal statement he took an old Phillips t.v., gutted it and covered the screen with fabric. That was the only channel you could watch!

If you met Bruce on the street you would never have dreamed he was as creative as he truly was, an inspiration to me for sure, and funny to boot!

Long live the Bruce Haigs of the world!!!

(Watercolor of Snakehead Point and the beach at El Granada by Galen Wolf).

The San Mateo-Half Moon Bay Road’s (Highway 92) famous “House of Doors” was built by Fred Nordholz, a German saloon owner. According to legend, the doors were used in buildings at the 1915 Panama-Pacific Exposition held in San Francisco. When the spectacular international show closed, Nordholz purchased the doors and shipped them down to Half Moon Bay where he built a house with them. Later in the 1950s Half Moon Bay’s colorful, outspoken Mayor Ann Howe (yes, think “An how!”) bought the house, hoping to turn it into a museum.

(Recap: A number of seriously creative handmade houses dotted John Wickett’s scenic 4,400-acre Skyline property in the 1960s. They were tucked away, difficult to find, usually by invitation only– reached by hiking on crooked dirt paths, muddy in the spring– ducking under tangled tree limbs while pushing away dense leafy foliage… )

Predictably, none of the fantastic structures were designed to meet county building codes. After all they were built to challenge the imagination. One house featured a storybook “drawbridge with chains and platforms”.

But perhaps the most sensational creation was the fabulous treehouse built by Kendall Whiting.

“Kendall’s treehouse was five stories tall, 50 feet above the ground,” John Wickett told me. “He put in an elevator and a suspended sliding cable…”

Five stories tall? An elevator? 50 feet above ground?

No wonder Kendall Whiting’s magical treehouse was the talk of Skyline and Beyond. (And that’s what it was, truly magical– I know, I actually rode in the “elevator” to the top of the treehouse).

But Whiting’s treehouse became so famous that it also brought worries. “We were afraid of lawsuits,” John admitted. He had good reason to be concerned. By now word had spread fast about the flower children who lived in fantastic houses on an incredible mountain with huge redwoods and cool meadows.

“Too many people were getting up around there,” Wickett said, “and it was getting to be a problem. All the sightseers wanted to see the property and the treehouse.”

(Sadly, eventually Kendall Whiting would fall out of his treehouse–and the amazing structure he created was torn down.)

…To Be Continued…

In 1979 John Wickett explained me me that “They [his guests, the members of the Floating Lotus Opera Co.] were hoping I’d just gone away and whenever I’d be on the property, walking around near them, someone would get me talking about something in the opposite direction.”

Of course the tactics didn’t fool John Wickett. “Eventually,” he said, “I found all the buildings.”

The “buildings” were actually handmade houses tucked away on Wickett’s property. To reach the “spectacularly innovative” houses with views of the Coastside mountains and the glimmering Pacific Ocean, John had to hike on crooked dirt paths, duck under tangled limbs, while always pushing away leafy foliage. In one sun-soaked clearing he recalled admiring a geodesic dome made from scratch.

Of course–none of the structures were designed or built to meet stringent county codes. Instead they were built to challenge the imagination. One unusual house, John said, featured a storybook “drawbridge with chains and all of these platforms going out.”

…To Be Continued…

[Recap: In the 1960s the colorful members of the aptly named Floating Lotus Opera Company were happily living on John Wickett's 4,400-acre Skyline property. Meanwhile, the San Mateo County District Attorney's office was hounding Wickett because of neighbor's complaints about these same guests, who, as free spirits weren't wearing very much clothing.]

During a 1979 interview at John Wickett’s 4-story Pacific Heights, San Francisco home, he told me that most of the young free spirits “used assumed names to forget their pasts.” Most often they took one very sweet new name like “Sunshine”, “Blue” or “Flower”. The 1960s was the era of the famous “flower children” and John said “they didn’t want to embarass their parents.”

One who changed his name was the artist Jim Maggio. On Wickett’s land, he re-named himself “Sandy Castle”–and he brought new and fascinating young creative people to Skyline. “People from top-notch, affluent East Coast families,” John told me.

Later, according to John Wickett, Sandy became the manager of Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young–the signature ’60s musical group that is synoymous with the flower children movement. (And eventually Neil Young bought land near Wickett’s property). You could love the English Beatles or the Stones, but you’d surely have a collection of CSN& & Y albums. They created the authentic American mood of the time.

The County D.A. was trying to force people off Wickett’s land but he managed to delay their legal moves for a while. Whenever the pressure intensified, he gently told the flower children, “You can’t be so evident.”

They loved the cool breezes at the top of the mountain, and the warm sunlight in the magical meadows– and, taking Wickett’s advice to heart, they retreated deeper into the woods where they hoped they would not be seen.

But on a sparkly sunny Skyline afternoon, the sound of hammers and handsaws broke the warm silence.

…To Be Continued…