Half Moon Bay Memories & El Granada Observer

(Photo: Is this the Ocean Shore Railroad smokin’ through Pacifica?)

Mr. Vonderlin, I’ve enjoyed reading Half Moon Bay Memories and El Granada Observer as well as your Pescadero Memories, particularly references to the OSRR, which I became acquainted with in the late 1920s.

My uncle took my brother and me on a hike along the right-of-way from Thornton to Mussel Rock. Though the rails had been torn up, still it was obvious a railroad had been there.

In 1939 I made several bike trips down the coast from San Francisco, once climbing to the top of the collapsed tunnel at Pedro Point to view the grade south to Devil’s Slide. And I also drove to Santa Cruz in a friend’s Model A Ford, borrowed from his brother, always looking for OSRR remnants.

At Pescadero beach it looked like grading of the dunes had been done south of the “mysterious tunnel” bluff you described. On a much later visit I found the tunnel portal, and since the grading I’d seen earlier would have led to the tunnel site, I surmised that the OSRR had built the tunnel either as a pilot bore, or to use it to blow down the hillside for easier grading.

Your north portal pictures puzzle me as they don’t appear to coincide with this surmise. I’ve never seen anything about this in the OSRR literature.

Re the Palmer Gulch Trestle: I have a photo of it given to me in 1939 that shows the trestle had already started to sag in the middle. About 1960 a friend and I hiked down to it; by then it was sagging noticeably. On the north side was a large, weathered (tool?) box, about 12′x4′x4′ roughly. It had an old padlock on it which we left as is.

We walked across the trestle, and my friend took pictures, of which I have a couple. Unfortunately, they are now badly faded (Polaroid camera?). but the rotted ties are still evident. I don’t believe it burned down because I saw an internet picture of it taken a few years after our crossing, and it was in nearly collapsed condition, and the text said it totally collapsed shortly after. Regrettably I didn’t add it to my OSRR “favorites,” and have never found it on the Web again.
Thanks again for your interesting memories of the San Mateo coastside.

Angelo Misthos, Sebastopol CA.

————————————–

John Vonderlin replies

(email John: benloudman@sbcglobal.net)

Hi June,
I received this interesting email today. It reminded me the tunnel (s) story is not a mystery solved. I’ll get back to it. The gentleman from the cemetery has said he’ll show us it, so maybe it exists. I sent Angelo a picture of a burnt timber, though that might have happened after collapse. I loved that he lives in Sebastopol. I used to have a wonderful ranch/family orchard in the hills west of town during the Seventies. George Lichty, the cartoonist of “Grin and Bear It,” fame lived across the street. The Thomases who owned the American Opinion Bookstore (John Birch Society–remember them?) were at one corner, two gay interior designers from S.F. on another and a schoolteacher couple who were Sufis on another. A great time in my life to recall. Where has my youth gone?
Larry Fitterer and I are going to be lowering ourselves down the cliffs into “The Notch” and Acid Beach on April 9th or 10th. Yee-Haw. Hopefully, I won’t break my typing fingers or anything else. Enjoy. John

For everything Pacifica, including the “history of trains, castles and dusty roads,” please check out our friends, on the north side of Devil’s Slide…. at the Pacifica Riptide, click here

Written by Mary’s son, Jon

Mary Florey, Founder of Florey’s Book Co.

On Valentines Day Pacifica lost a sympathetic ear and a big heart. Mary Florey died after a prolonged illness at 81 years old. Mary, who founded Florey’s Book Co. over thirty years ago, will be remembered by many of Pacifica’s readers because she would always take the time to listen to everyone. Sometimes she’d offer advice but mostly she just listened to people expressing all of life’s joys and sorrows as they looked for the right book. She might sell them a book or send them to the library.

Mary is survived by her lifetime partner, George Carpenter. She was the loving mother of Barbara Schlieve as well as James, Jon and Roy Florey and aunt to John and Mona Dean as well as Ralph Raymond Black and the late Lee Black. She is also survived by her brother Matt Black and his wife Nancy and their children Nancy, Caroline, and Janet. Her grandchildren include Aaron Schlieve who continues as the proprietor of Florey’s. Other grandchildren are Juliet Schlieve as well as Jessica, Michelle, Robert, Glen, Owen and David Florey. She was proud of each one.

She was born in Kansas City, Missouri in 1926 and moved to San Francisco just before WWII started. She worked all her life, first as a waitress, bank teller, and sales clerk before deciding to open her own business and moving to Pacifica in 1977. Mary always supported local writers and her store was used for many, many lectures, events and meetings over the years.

A memorial service will be held at Holy Cross Lutheran Church at 1165 Seville Drive in Pacifica on Thursday, February 21st at 6 PM followed by a reception. Those who wish to bring food to the reception are invited to do so. People who loved Mary can also make a contribution to Florey’s Book Co. at 2120 Palmetto Avenue, Pacifica, CA 94044

June,

Just discovered your site. Love the old photos of Pedro Mountain Road! And the interview with Pete Douglas!

I and my friends often ride our bikes up the peninsula along Crystal Springs to Pacifica, and then over the old Pedro Mountain road instead of Devil’s Slide. From Montara, we cross the highway and ride the dirt trails along the cliffs above Mavericks and then down through Princeton Harbor back to HWY 1. It’s about a 70 mile round trip, with the highlight always being lengthy rest stop for coffee on the beach at The Ebb Tide Cafe. See photos from Feb:

http://www.54×11.com/photos/PacificaRide_021707/index.html

Great site! Can you post some of the old photos in higher resolution sometime?

Thanx,

Chris

June, I should have said in my first e-mail that we start and finish in
Redwood City. The particular day I took those photos, we went back over
the hill via Purissima Creek fire road and Harkins Ridge Trail (VERY
difficult!!) as you can see in the pictures near the end. We then
descended back to Woodside and then Redwood City via Kings Mountain.
The weather was incredible that day.

Chris

photo: The McCloskey Castle in Pacifica. Photo courtesy Sam Mazza Estate.

Readers, Kathy Alberts asks: “Do you know anything about the history of the house at 2 Carmel Avenue in Pacifica? I used to live there and was told that during the 20s it was owned by a Madame named Dolly Fine(?) who used to help the rum runners and also worked in partnership with the McCloskey castle house, directly up the hill. Any information you can provide me would be much appreciated.”

If you have the answer, please email Kathy at Do you know anything about the history of the house at 2 Carmel Avenue in Pacifica? I used to live there and was told that during the 20s it was owned by a Madame named Dolly Fine(?) who used to help the rum runners and also worked in partnership with the McCloskey castle house, directly up the hill. Any information you can provide me would be much appreciated.

If you have the answer, please email Kathy at katherinealberts@gmail.com

“Rudy” Brandt

A while back I posted a three-part short history of the Ocean Shore Railroad based on a 1980 interview I did with the colorful Ocean Shore Railroad historian, Randolph “Rudy” Brandt (his father had been an original investor in the Ocean Shore).

I also posted this photo, believing that it was the Ocean Shore’s observation car.

Well, now I’m not sure what it’s of…I’m honored to share this email from Ocean Shore Railroad historian John Schmale:
“Hi June. I was struck with nostalgia at seeing the photo of Old Rudy Brandt in your article on the Ocean Shore Railroad. For over 30 years I exchanged Ocean Shore RY information, photos, documents etc with Rudy. He left me all of his OS RR material. Thanks…You have a scene of an observation car and water tank which I question is Ocean Shore RR. Do you know anything about it? Sorry, I am not being critical. The car is not Ocean Shore. I was wondering if the location is identified? Maybe Leased equipment? Regards, John Schmale”

John Schmale also emailed me this photo taken in Pacifica, 1940s (see below)

At left, “Rudy” Brandt, center, E.H. Dannman, at right, Lorin Silleman (photo, courtesy John Schmale)
Hi again June, Yes Rudy was one of the last of the old time rail fans. He
drove his old 1950’s Plymouth all night and two whole days to photograph
some rotting narrow gauge trains down in the middle of the Arizona copper
mining region. He related running into unfriendly natives, as in “Native
Americans.”…

…I was interviewed by the folks at the local Pacifica TV station regarding
the poor old Ocean Shore RR car which now lives at the Shamrock Ranch near
the South end of Linda Mar. I helped save it from getting a good bulldozing.
The car sat in a vine covered backyard 6 miles from my home in Sonoma Co.. I
have had this address for 20 years. Wow! one should get to know the
neighbors.

I found one photo, enclosed, showing Rudy on left, E.H. Dannman (Pedro
Saloon man) in center, and Lorin Silleman on right. Picture taken at Pedro
Station in the 1940’s…

I have really enjoyed your historical works on the Coastside and look
forward seeing to more.

Best regards, John Schmale

“There were landslides from time to time. The Pedro Pt/Devil’s Slide area was a particularly bad section. On one occasion, I think around 1915, as a result of some fairly torrential storms, about a mile-and-a-half or two miles of right-of-way track just suddenly dropped from right under and fell into the ocean…”

As told to me in 1980 by Randolph Brandt, whose father was an investor, a stockholder, in the Ocean Shore Railroad:

“In 1907 they got a train into Rockaway, no Vallemar. I think the first train rolled into Vallemar around 1907. They sent an engine down there with two coaches—and a load of people, a lot of promotion and activity.

“People were assured that this was going to be the new ‘Coney Island of the West’. All sorts of grandiose plans and promoters were springing up. And these communities along the way which were yet unnamed—were coming to life like Granada.

“…The depot in San Francisco was located at 12th & Mission Streets. …

“They even invited people to go down on weekends to give ‘em a free ride down there—and a free lunch—and then when you got off the train down there, all these salesmen were there busy. Sales slips, you know, sign on the dotted line to buy lots.

“They assured people the railroad would be finished within a year or two—and have wonderful rapid transit right into the heart of San Francisco. Business was so good for awhile that they didn’t have enough coaches so they dragged out a bunch of flat cars and put benches in them, you know, and people rode flat cars with benches down there.

“If any of you have eer driven in an open car along here [Devil’s Slide] when it’s pretty windy, you can imagine how some of the ladies must have felt having their hats blow off—and I don’t know what else especially when they’re going around Pedro Point and Devil’s Slide.

“It gets pretty windy—especially looking over the edge of a flat car and seeing the ocean down below on the edge of the cliff.�

Randolph Brandt smiled and laughed.

“Must have been quite an experience.

“There were landslides from time to time. The Pedro Pt/Devil’s Slide area was a particularly bad section. On one occasion, I think around 1915, as a result of some fairly torrential storms, about a mile-and-a-half or two miles of right-of-way track just suddenly dropped from right under and fell into the ocean.

“Luckily, there were no trains in the area at the time.

“It disrupted service for awhile. They ran trains as far as they could go to where the right-of-way caved off—enough space left, apparently, and then brought in a train from the south and passengers got off the train, walked along the edge of cliff ‘til they got to the other train—and then ran the train backwards all the way to Tunitas [south of Half Moon Bay]

“Another problem—the boulders came off the cliffs every once in a while onto the track….�

…To be continued…

A Short History Of The Ocean Shore Railroad (Part I)

As told to me in 1980 by Randolph Brandt, whose father was an investor, a stockholder, in the Ocean Shore Railroad:

“He, like a number of other people in the days when the stock was being offered to the public market, thought it was a good thing and it apparently was.

“There are a number of banks and prominent people—quite a number of people, well-heeled financially that invested money in it. Mr. Downey Harveyt there, was one of the original promoters of the line and he dropped, I think, around $2 million in it. Of course, he was one of those people that inherited the money, you know, didn’t have to work for it.

“And another man who was pretty well-off financially, too, was Mr. Foelder of the well known Foelger Coffee Company, and he dropped quite a bit of money into it—somewhere between a million and a million-and-a-half.

“In those days, a million was not considered pennies.

“When they got this thing started—it was just before the earthquake, well, 1905, well, railroads were springing up all over the place, up and down the state—from one end to the other they were starting to build…

“Why not a line down the coast to Santa Cruz?

“One of the reasons was tht they figured if they built the line through to Santa Cru they could take a lot of the business away from the SP [Southern Pacific], which had the monopoly up ‘til then by going the other way.

“Look like a good proposition. No one else was in there. They started work from both ends with one crew working from San Francisco south, another crew starting from Santa Cru, working north.

“Got along fine until a certain day in April 1906 when they had an earthquake. One of things they didn’t’ anticipate was a good deal of construction equipment, particularly in the area around Mussel Rock tumbled off the right-of-way and down into the ocean.

“A considerable financial loss.

“And part of the right-of-way, likewise, followed the equipment into the ocean—more financial loss—and additional expenditures the promoters hadn’t figured on.

“Recovered from that somehow and they pared down the project a bit as a result of that. One of the shortcomings of the original promoters was that they were a little too grandiose in their ideas. They started out—it was planned as a double-track electric, actually, to run from San Francisco to Santa Cruz, via Half Moon Bay.

“Better off if they’d started out with a single-track steam line. Then as business justified it, then extending to double-track, they might have succeeded. When you grade for a double-track along the line it actually costs you more than if you grade for a single track, so it means more money out. Since they never used the double track, well, it was just money wasted…”

Photo: Randolph Brandt

…To be continued…

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, “The Mystery of Half Moon Bay�. Here are some quotes that did not air).

On Growth:

“The 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.

“When I came here they were building 9-10 houses a year on the whole Coastside—that would be from San Gregorio into Montara.

“And 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 much…I’d describe it s a rural area in transition….

“…In the 1960s I made a statement that I didn’t want to see Half Moon Bay become another Pacifica. We wanted balanced growth. We didn’t want to see ultra-high density population and rows and rows f houses with no open space.

“What we were looking for was balanced growth. There’s enough area over here for a balance in the growth.

“I think this is what the City of Half Moon Bay has been attempting to accomplish—of having a balance between open space and housing.

“One of our biggest concerns was the people of San Francisco—we 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.

“You get what’s called a ‘bedroom community’ which has an economic imbalance.

“We want to have some agriculture. We wanted to have some fishing. We wanted to have jobs for people who live here…�

On the Coastal Commission

“Parts 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.

“The Coastal Commission is one law for one group, another law for another group.

“Half Moon Bay, because of the lack of political muscle, couldn’t stand up to the Coastal Commission the way other cities could on the coast.

“Frenchman’s 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 Frenchman’s Creek. Some of
the very same people have gone to the Golf Links.

“…I don’t think Montara Mountain is going to be packed with house side-byside. I think even if the Coastal Commission hadn’t been in effect, there are certain pressures operating, just like they operated against the Ocean Shore Railroad.�

And then along came Sam Mazza to save Pacifica’s mysterious castle– a full time, extremely successful San Francisco painting contractor and equally successful, part time modern “Knight in Shining Armor”.

It was 1957, when, according to Sam’s brother, Angelo, who can often be found puttering in the castle’s gardens, “Sam was driving down to Nick’s Rockaway Restaurant, and he had a few fizzes and he spotted this concrete structure engulfed in weeds about six inches high. After inspecting it, he bought it for about $29,000 and flew a flag from the roof that said, ‘Sam’s White Elephant’.”

But it really wasn’t a “white elephant”. Sam saved Pacifica’s castle and the castle was good for him.

(Sadly, Mr. Sam Mazza passed away at age 94 in 2002 and the castle became a part of his estate).

It was inevitable that the painting contractor would become fascinated with the “castle’s infamous history, the edgy stories and the myths of the Prohibition years,” estate trustee Jeannette Cool said. She recalled Sam as “a real character. He had his own ways about everything, his own opinions. He was frugal but had pockets of generosity.” It all added up to what she remembered most about her charitable friend: “Sam was a charming eccentric.”

Brother Angelo filled in the family history noting that Sam was not a high school graduate but his painting business boomed in San Francisco. He had famous commissions including the reburbishing of the glamorous Fox Theater on Market Street where gold leaf columns and cherubs were painted on the high ceilings.

“It was one of the most beautiful theaters in San Francisco,” Angelo confirmed.

Most interesting–when the Mazza family arrived from Sicily in the early 20th century, they made their home on Hearst Avenue in San Francisco–and that certainly conjures up memories of William Randolph–and his super famous castle at San Simeon.

Was Sam Mazza fulfilling a matching dream by purchasing his own castle in Pacifica?

Like Hearst, Sam filled his Pacifica castle with his favorite antiques and memorabilia collected through the years–some of them from old Hollywood movie sets.

Trustee Jeannette Cool describes the main living room, which has unparalleled views of the Pacific Ocean, with its unusual antiques. “There’s a French Armoire with inlaid mother of pearl,” she said, “a piece of German porcelain and several antique desks and dressers.” The one piece of furniture that catches the eye of the visitor is “the kitschy ‘throne’ that Sam used for his own whimsy.”

Yes, it’s a real throne and Sam had fun asking guests to sit in the throne with a crown on their head.

Sam Mazza relished the work of restoring Pacifica’s castle to its original splendor and was happy to share that with then Congressman “Pete” McCloskey, whose grandfather had built the castle.

(Photos below: Inside the castle. courtesy Sam Mazza Estate)

(Photos, courtesy Sam Mazza Estate)

(Photo at right: Detectives search for human remains on castle grounds.)

In 1920 Pacifica’s gray castle stood alone in a veil of secrecy, isolated on a hill, even more mysterious when wrapped in a swirling layer of fog. It seemed out of place watching over the working class cottages below–yet neighbors were acutely aware of the regular flow of strangers coming and going.

There was reason to be watchful in 1920. Prohibition had gripped the country, and, initially, the stringent liquor laws were ignored and illegal roadhouses became the way of life in Pacifica.

The castle’s history was intertwined with the Ocean Shore Railroad, an iron road originally designed to carry funseeking passengers and local produce from San Francisco through the tiny beach resorts of Pacifica and Half Moon Bay, south to the popular resort Santa Cruz, and back again.

But by 1920 the Ocean Shore proved itself to be a dinosaur, unable to compete with autos and trucks. Tracks were never laid farther than a few miles south of Half Moon Bay. And by the time Dr. Galen R. Hickok, a Berkeley physician, purchased the castle, scrapping the limping railroad had become a controversial topic. Some in Pacifica worried that without the railroad, the artichoke industry would suffer–but ultimately all attempts to save the Ocean Shore failed.

Dr. Hickok didn’t move into the castle immediately. Instead he hired the Millers, an elderly couple, to tend the castle–but the doctor clearly planned to establish some kind of medical practice there.

(Photo at left: See the castle on the hill behind the Salada Beach sign. photo Karin Murray)

In 1920, toward the close of summer, the Millers suddenly left Salada for Ireland, and Hickok moved some of his belongings into the castle, including a bookcase of Shakespeare’s work, a gun rack with seven army muskets and a collection of antique swords that were nailed to the wall. Hickok also hired a nurse and housekeeper. It seemed like a modest beginning for his hospital.

Originally it was hoped the railroad would bring prosperity to the community but with its demise, isolated Pacifica became a haven for bootleggers and rumrunners. Surrounded by criminal activity spawned by Prohibition laws, Salada Deputy Sheriff E.J. Hutley became suspicious of everybody.

The gray cstle on the hill became a center of suspicion and was soon referred to as the “Castle of Mystery”.

Sheriff Hutley wondered why were the taxi cabs driving up the hill to the castle late at night?

His question was soon answered. Following leads, San Francisco and San Mateo County police had already been alerted that the castle was being used as an abortion clinic, “a retreat for girls and women unwilling to become mothers”.

Operating through a tip, two famous San Francisco police detectives posed for photographs on the hill, the castle looming behind them. Wearing his trademark homburg hat, Detective Miles Jackson stood beside matronly Policewoman Katherine O’Connor, one of three women on the force. Jackson was a tough cop who would later die in a shoot-out with gangsters.

Followed the press and their cameras, Jackson and O’Connor, walked across the grounds, opened the gate and knocked on the castle’s heavy oak front door. No response. They then rang the doorbell. Finally a stunned housekeeper appeared, insisting she had been hired a few days earlier and knew nothing. Her story checked out and she was not questioned any further.

Cleo Tevis, a uniformed nurse, was far more confident and accommodating.

“Come in,” she beckoned, according to newspaper reports. “We have nothing to conceal. The doctor is innocent of any wrongdoing.”

In the richly carpeted hallway, Detectives Jackson and O’Connor looked warily at the collection of muskets, swords and spears.

“They are decorations,” Nurse Tevis explained. “The doctor is a fine man and he’s done nothing wrong. No operations have been performed.”

But in rooms alleged to have been equipped in hospital fashion, the police found female patients, underage. The women told of visiting a surgeon’s office and then being taxied to the castle for “convalescence”.

Soon the castle was swarming with police, including Daly City’s Landini, San Mateo County Deputy T.J. McGovern and District Attorney Franklin Swaart who would try the case in Redwood City.

The press had a field day. At one point there were allegations of human bones found on the castle’s grounds, and although they led to sensational headlines, it came to nothing.

In early December 1920 Dr. Hickok went on trial for performed an illegal abortion. As the doctor shifted uncomfortably in his seat, a female witness testified that an operation was performed in a converted kitchen.

Hickok’s attorneys did their best to prove that their client was innocent but the case against Hickok was overwhelming, and the doctor was sentenced to San Quentin.

Soon after the trial ended, the castle entered another phase. Renamed the Chateau LaFayette, it became a lively roadhouse, raided repeatedly for selling illegal booze during Prohibition.

Predictably, at the end of Prohibition, the Chateau LaFayette closed down. The “Castle of Mystery” became neglected and sat unoccupied on the hill, a conversation piece for those who noticed its turrets from the roadside. To the locals it was a landmark used to measure distance from one site to another.

The castle became shabby and nobody seemed to care.

…To be continued….

Former Peninsula Congressman Paul N. “Pete� McCloskey will announce tomorrow that he will run against incumbent U.S. Rep. Richard Pombo (R-CA) in the Republican primary for the Northern California congressional seat, according to the Associated Press.

You may recall that the 78-year-old McCloskey, a lawyer, and much decorated Marine Korean war hero, spent seven terms in the Congress, first winning a Special Election in 1967 as an anti-Vietnam War, pro-environmentalist candidate.

(He first won notoriety as the attorney for Woodside residents who opposed construction of the Stanford Linear Accelerator (SLAC).

That hotly contested election won national attention as “Pete� prevailed over former child super-move star and Woodside resident Shirley Temple Black. His victory was a shocking upset.

One of Pete McCloskey’s successful political strategies was to walk through neighborhoods, knocking on doors, introducing himself, chatting with the voters.

This intimate personal style worked and he would become a fixture in the U.S. Congress for over a decade. McCloskey was no stranger to controversy. As a maverick, and a dove, often controversial, he never hesitated to criticize President Nixon’s Vietnam policy.

McCloskey has strong ties to Pacifica where his grandfather, Henry Harrison McCloskey, also an attorney, built a castle by the sea, one of the now-suburban coastside town’s most fascinating landmarks.

In what was then called Salada Beach, construction began in 1908 on San Francisco attorney Henry McCloskey’s unique two-story residence, coinciding with the inauguration of the luckless Ocean Shore Railroad.

McCloskey’s clients included the Ocean Shore Land Company, a subsidiary of the railroad. With great optimism, tracks had been laid from San Francisco through a collection of new beach communities, comprising present-day Pacifica, with stations at Edgemar, Brighton, Vallemar, Rockaway, Tobin and Salada Beach.

Running across Devil’s Slide, south to Half Moon Bay, the train tracks dead-ended at a Tunitas Creek saloon run by the husband of the eccentric sculptress Sybil Easterday.

Surely Henry McCloskey’s professional ties with the Ocean Shore–which promoted homesites for those fleeing the 1906 San Francisco Earthquake–helped the land company attorney to acquire the hilltop property overlooking Salada Beach.

The railroad’s founders presented an imaginative recreationally-oriented vision for what is now the city of Pacifica. Their ambitious plan included not only homes, but a festive atmosphere for weekend funseekers riding the train to the resort towns dotting Pacifica’s lovely coastline. At Salada Beach, now called Sharp Park, a bandstand, casinos and a promenade, with steps leading down to the ocean waves, were contemplated. Designers sketched hillside theme hotels, all within sight of the gleaming Pacific Ocean.

(For a fun read, check out “The Last Whistle” by Jack Wagner, in Coastside libraries).

The hillside hotels nevver appeared but the excitement generated by the railroad’s vision inspired McCloskey to commission San Francisco architect Charles MacDougal to create a one-of-a-kind residence.

In 1908 the McCloskey family, including son, Paul, the father of future Rep. “Pete” McCloskey, moved into the castle they christened “Bendemier”, a solitary mountain-top retreat with spectacular ocean views that remain to this day.

Henry H. McCloskey died in the winter of 1914 and soon after his widow sold the magical castle–today accessible only by walking or driving up a 45-degree hill.

(Castle photo: Sam Mazza Estate)

To be continued….