Pescadero Memories

Story by John Vonderlin

Email John: benloudman@sbcglobal.net

Story by John Vonderlin

Email John: benloudman@sbcglobal.net

Here’s an odd lot of non-buoyant marine debris. Enjoy. John

Story by John Vonderlin

Email John: benloudman@sbcglobal.net

Story by John Vonderlin

Email John: benloudman@sbcglobal.net

Here’s a minor mystery I’m hoping to find the answer to. I’m photographing all my minor and odd collections, of which this is one. Feels good  to organize it, even if it is trash. I laugh every time I think of that. “The Man Who Knew Too Much About Trash,” with my apologies to Alfred Hitchcock. Hope you’re having a Kiwi kind of time. Enjoy. John

I am having a little break in New Zealand, and imagine my surprise this morning when I tried to log on to my halfmoonbaymemories.com site and found that it is now bbcnews.com.

I apologize to my readers and hope that this can be corrected.

Story by John Vonderlin

Email John: benlouman@sbcglobal.net

Hi Curt [Ebbesmeyer]

Here’s a few of my more well-rounded marine debris collections, one non-buoyant, the other almost so. The first group, the non-buoyant one, is my “Half Naked Tennis Ball” collection. The second, the just barely buoyant one, is my “Whiffed Ball” collection.

The “Half Naked Tennis Balls,” are less then complete, usually hemispherical, tennis ball remnants. Having become lost or abandoned they migrated to the Coastside and nearby waters. Unable to bear the wear and tear of that life, they first lose their fuzz through too much sun and way too much of the worst kind of water, then they lose their buoyancy through leakage, and start sinking, until they finally hit bottom. Often that is in the violent, hard-edged, out-of-their-control turbulence of the Zurf Zone, and then their integrity is completely destroyed, as rock and surf split them asunder.

However, the fact that split is often into two half-hemispheres has given them some prominence in the pantheon of my collections, as well as my artplay plans. They will make credible, in fact excellent, suckers for “Squidy Litter’s” tentacles and larger arms. I haven’t fastened them on yet, as “Squiddy,” at 18 feet long, is way too large to let come in the house, and “Half Naked Tennis Balls” know from all the time they spent on the court, cruising and on the beach how tough too much sun is on their skin.

The second group, “Whiffed Balls,” is composed of my authentic beach-collected collection of “Wiffle Balls.” No Fleamarket or Thrift Store skulduggery has been employed in the building of this magnificent collection. Storm-tossed Salty Dogs should be written all over these beauties. (Chicanery Glass anyone?)

You’ll note from the attached ScreenShot of my hi-tech testing lab, that “Whiffed Balls,” while they represent one of the most powerful and successful early weapons used  in the, all-over-but-the-shouting, ”Wild Child To Mild” War,  they seem to come up short in the buoyancy department.

The root word “whiff” according to the dictionary means 1) an inhalation of odor, gas or smoke, 2) a slight trace or indication (a whiff of scandal) and 3) Strikeout.  By the way, I think “whiff” can also mean just taking a swing, with bat, fist or ? and not connecting. This would not seem to be a good set of associations for a product, even a gastric one, with a slight nod to the “gas and odor” connection’s possible appeal to the intended end consumer, young males. It must have been an interesting sales pitch to the marketing department. Did they accent the fact that when you missed with your swing, the impressive “whiff” sound the yellow (so wrong!) plastic Whiffle bat makes on your wild swing through, loudly announces the  the whiffer’s failure, alerting your adversaries it was the proper moment to unleash a barrage of the time-honored catcalls about windmills, fans, and rusty gates? Rather, I believe it has to do with the originator David Mullaney’s son, along with his friends, who began calling a Strikeout a “whiff” while using the toys at some time after its August 14th, 1953 invention by Mr. Mullaney.

The “Whiffed Balls,” are to be one of “Lady LitterAll’s,”  necklaces, and will make as fine a string of giant pearls as the Pacific has ever produced. But, there is one, the Pride and Joy of my collection, that will not be strung up, but rather encased. I refer to my battered, but unique, possibly priceless, autographed George Brett Whiffle Ball.

I know some day George will show up on my doorstep and offer a lot of money for this powerful connection to his past. But, it’s not for sale. He has sold out, for a few advertising dollars, that vital birthright of young males, the powerful peer bonding that used to occur on the sandlots of America every day, when towering drives broke a window and the call to “Run like Hell” was given. He endorsed a light weight, plastic, swiss-cheesed ball that ended that ritual and thereby stole another of the diminishing rites of passage that nurtured the ever rarer “Wild Child.” You whiffed big time George. We won’t forget it. Enjoy. John

P.S. For those more interested in the facts then my meanderings, the “Wiffle Ball Wikipedia” article is good and at the bottom of their page is an External Link” to “The Big Wiffer,” an online story about the homespun, down and out guy, who invented a million dollar toy in his backyard, as well as, how and why America came to love this toy.

I wonder if a George Brett autographed Whiffle Bat will ever wash ashore on the Coastside, for me to find? Now that would be spooky. But, since it would cost George a whole lot more to hide his past, I could get over it.

By June Morrall & Burt Blumert

(Burt & I wrote this together in 1991. Burt passed away in March 2009.)

The news that gold was discovered at Sutter’s Creek in present-day Amador County in 1848 spread around the world like wildfire.

Adventurers poured in from every corner of the globe seeking instant wealth. Thousands of gold seekers walked away with a few nuggets in a leather pouch: a few became incredibly wealthy. When the stampede was over, local settlers, infected with the “gold bug,” kept looking for the elusive gold metal on their Coastside beaches and ranches.

Gold does not oxidize; nature cannot alter the rich look that is her signature.

“The magic of gold,” explain[ed] Burton Blumert, [then] a 35-year veteran gold dealer and proprietor of Camino Coin in San Mateo, “has endured throughout man’s history. In California, gold has played a significant role in our state’s heritage.”

Gold is the seductress that weaves a spell over those who become obsessed with finding her. Pulses raced when the official 1888 “Report of the State Mineralogist” listed the discovery of a ledge of quartz, said to contain silver and gold, on Ote Durham’s Tunitas Creek ranch.

Speculators were also panning for gold on the glittering black sands of the Denniston Ranch, located about one mile north of Amesport Landing at Miramar. Prospector interest in this beach was sustained for two years when W.R. Welch announced his plans to use a new invention that tested the gold richness of sand. Evidently the gold detector was worth the investment: Welch had supposedly found enough of the precious metal “to yield a good margin of profit.”

A later edition of the ‘State Mineralogist Report” tells us that the source of “the fine gold” that trickled down Denniston Creek could probably be traced to the quartz veins found in “Montara granite rock.”

In the early 1950s three ounces of gold, one ounce of silver and a small quanity of platinun were said “to have been produced from placers in the vicinity of Pescadero Beach by small-scale methods.”

But finding gold in its natural state is not the only search. What about treasure hidden or lost by early Coastsiders?

In 1913, inquiries swamped the San Mateo County Clerk’s office, regarding an alleged cache of gold, said to be worth $300,000, that had been buried somewhre on the old Hering ranch in Half Moon Bay. The Herlings were described as a wealthy, distinguished family from Austria who left their country “under mysterious circumstances.”

All of their property abroad was sold and allegedly Joseph Herling converted it to a huge amount of gold, which, it was believed, he buried on his Half Moon Bay ranch. Herling died in a Stockton insane asylum where he had been confined after murdering a neighbor. The gold, if it truly existed, has never been found.

How many such gold caches are to be found on the Coastside’s land and beaches? Montara resident Tom Collins, 50, is a bonafide gold hunter. Instead of a mule, pan and grubstake, Collins is a modern day gold seeker who relies on his trusy metal detector. He would rather be searching for gold than doing anything else.

In the 12 years that he has been metal detecting, the wiry Collins says he has “easily found a quarter of amillin coins (of all metals, precious and otherwise.) I find up to 1,000 coins a month when I’m beating the bush. But what every treasure hunter wants to find ia cache of gold.”

The 3-pound metal detector which the former sound system designer wears has become an extension of his senses. The equipment consists of a control box that is strapped on a belt to his waist, he wears stereo headphones that emit signals and he holds a loop or sensor in his right hand. The metal detector allows him to comfortably operate in the world of the treasure hunter.

Collins’ ability to discriminate between similar sounds is crucial in his work. A major problem that distracts him while detecting are the signals coming from iron. “Iron will mask a good signal, such as the one that comes from gold,” he notes.

Collins moved to Montara in the winter of 1982 when the Coastside was pummeled by heavy storms. He had already mastered the detector and was hooked to his hobby. “I fell in love with the beach there,” he says, but not for the same reasons that many Coastsiders choose this area as home. “I wanted to be the first one on the beach during storms to treasure hunt,” he divulges. (Heavy storms wash away top lawyers, exposing long hidden items.) “There were so many coins on Montara Beach that I wasn’t even using my detector.”

Once settled in his new home, he studies local history and with the permission of owners (Collins always seeks permission) he began to search areas where something interesting might turn up. When Half Moon Bay’s Stone Pine Center was still the home of Babe Modena, Collins metal detected the property. He discovered a gold Spaish coin, a half Escudo, dated 1834, on what was long ago a Mexican land grant. This led Collins to wonder if a Spanish explorer had dropped the coint here.

At Surfer’s Beach in El Granada, one  of his favorite hunting spots, he found another Spanish coin, a real one, date 1826.

Before doing any detecting in the Coastside’s ghost town of Purissima (and anywhere he metal detects) Collins sketched the location of former buildings. On the site of Henry Dobbel’s home–where the front porch stood–he found an old 18K gold pin. On the reverse side the word “Erinnerung” was etched, a German word meaning “reminiscence.” The Dobbels were German.

But while always heady stuff, the discovery of the Spanish coins pales with his incredible find in San Francisco in late September 1991.

“it was like a premonition, something I wouldn’t normally do,” remembers Collins. “It was the first time I ever metal detected on a lot where a building had been removed in San Francisco.”

It was also a seedy area located beside an alley. While wearing his detector and picking through “the 1850s rubble” of bone and pottery lying on the surface, Collins says “I heard a good target coming through” the stereo earphones. The welcome sound was the first U.S. $20 gold piece he found.

Collins was thrilled when he saw another gold piece sticking out of the sand. He knew he had found the cache every gold hunter dreams of. He also knew there would be more gold pieces to be found on the lot.

Suddenly his feelings plummeted from jubilation to terror. He was unfamiliar with this part of the city.

“I was in a state of panic,” admits Collins. “What if I found 100 or 200 gold coins? How will get them out without being seen” by someone who might want to steal his legimately found treasure. After concealing the coins in a glove, he did manage to leave safely.

Collins and his girlfriend/partner Judi Miyasaki, also of Montara, together unconvered an amazing total of 16 $20 and one $10 U.S. gold coins dating from 1877 to 1906.

“I’ve never seen anything to match this cache,” says gold dealer Burton Blumert. “In fact, the 17 coins would bring over $5,000 in today’s [1991] market.”

But Collins seeks more than monetary treasure. He seems just as interested in unearthing fragments of Coastside history.

————-

From the San Mateo Times & Gazette

October 26, 1872

Pigeon Point lighthouse will be illuminated for the first time on the 15th of November 1871 and every night after form sunset to sunrise. The focal plane is 100 feet above ground and 150 feet feet above the sea. The lens is dioptric, of first order of system of Fresnal. It will show white flashes every 10 seconds with eclipses between and can be seen in clear weather from the deck of a vessel 15 feet above the sea at a distance of 18 1/2 nautrical miles. The tower is brick, conical in form and painted white. The dome of the lantern is painted red. The railing, brackets of the gallery and other iron work at the top of the tower is painted black. Keeper’s dwelling  2 stories high is of wood, has out buildings and is north of tower. It is painted white and roof is red. A steam fog whistle established at this point, near lighthouse and is sounded in thick and foggy weather at intervals alternately of 7 and 45 seconds. The fog signal must not be mistaken for the steam whistle at Ano Nuevo Island–6 miles south, which has blasts of 15 seconds at intervals of 45 seconds.

Story by John Vonderlin

Email John (benloudman@sbcglobal.net)

Hi June,

It’s a rare day when three of my life’s minor, but nagging, mysteries get solved in just a few hours, as happened yesterday. But, it did happen. Here’s the story.

Some time ago I sent you a picture of an odd, shriveled float, unique in my large collection, that I was curious about the cause of its condition.

I had thought it might have become shrunken by heat, perhaps when the boat it was on burned and sank. However, the rope running through it was unaltered, making that seem unlikely. Meg had also found, a few years ago, a set of small floats, similary shrunken, also with no heat damage on the line they were strung on. I tried to decipher the numbers and letters on mine, hoping to trace the boat  and thereby learn what had caused its misshapen form. Unfortunately, it was just too malformed to divine all the letters and numbers.

Well, yesterday morning I sent Dr. Ebbesmeyer a photo of them, and he quickly returned the elegant answer.  It was a forehead slapping DUH!! moment for me.  He related that if the buoy should become entangled close to the pot as it is being set, it will be dragged to the bottom and…yes shriveled by the great pressure. I was almost embarrassed when I read that, but felt better when he mentioned that they are quite rare and highly valued by float collectors.

The second mystery was solved when I visited Tunitas Beach a few hours later. Hiking down the creekbed below the bridge it was great to see that the graffitti vandals had not defaced the Ocean Shore railroad’s Tunitas trestle foundation with their mindless scrawlings once again, and that the beach was quite clean of both flotsam and the usual piles of trash left by partygoers. However, under the cliff’s, on the section of beach north of Tunitas Creek, where Jim Denevan used to produce his wonderful sand art, was a commercial crab pot. Despite weighing close to a hundred pounds the waves had coughed it up onto the beach, a testimonial to non-buoyant marine debris’s ability to travel along the ocean bottom long distances.

While I’ve seen this before on this section of beach, where tires pop out of the ocean like Pez, it was the first one I’d ever seen “locked and loaded.” And that answered my question of exactly how the mellifluous “Scotty Crab Diner Nesting Bait Jars” are used. While I have hundreds of these objects, in several colors and sizes, I’ve never seen them in the crab pots, washed ashore or on a boat’s deck. I assume  they are removed from the trap and cleaned of their stinky bait before being stowed away, then filled and attached just before setting.

The circular scraps of inner tubes that I also find hundreds of, mainly at Neptune’s Vomitorium, also had their function clarified by this discovery. They provide the tension on the “Bait Jar,” to keep them suspended off the bottom of the trap. I assume that is desirable to maximize the wafting of the irresistibly scrumptious odor of rotting squid to all the drooling crabs in the pot’s neighborhood. However, I count these last two solutions as a Twofer and will relate the third mystery solved in Part 2. Enjoy. John

Story by John Vonderlin

Email John: (benloudman@sbcglobal.net)

The wreckage scattered in the waves. A section of the starboard bow washed into the mouth of Greenoaks (sic)Creek, where sand buried it for nearly 70 years. Fierce storms on the coast in 1983 exposed the 5-ton fragment. You can now see it on display.”

Indeed you can, at  Ano Nuevo State Park, on the path out to see the Elephant Seals. The piece has been propped up, with an informational sign next to it.

However, the Channel Islands National Marine Sanctuary, N.O.A.A. Shipwreck Database website offers two slightly different accounts.   I assume the big rock the chronicler relates it as being smashed on,  is Monument Rock.

“Mooring parted and struck rocks off Pigeon Point. Tried to maneuver vessel out. The vessel stopped at Pigeon Point to take on a cargo of tanbark. As she lay alongside the landing, the stern cable parted and a huge wave caught the craft swinging her broadside on the big rock, tearing a hole in the vessel’s side. A second wave lifted her and smashed her down on the rock, completely demolishing the bottom of the
steamer, Nannie Escolae    (At first because of this sentence and the following sentence in the next account I thought the Point Arena had been bought by the George Beadle Company shortly before its sinking and renamed the “Nannie Escolae.” After some searching I discovered the Database compiler had misspelled Nannie Escolar’s name. She was an avid historical compiler of photographs, newspaper clippings, and letters in Mendocino County and was the the contributor of the account. The Database accounts continue:

The vessel, which is now owned by the George Beadle Company, has been engaged in picking up cargoes between San Francisco, Santa Cruz and Monterey and was on her northward trip when she stopped at Pigeon Point early Saturday morning to take on a cargo of tanbark. As she lay alongside the landing, the stern cable parted, and a large wave caught the craft swinging it broadside onto a big rock, tearing a large hole in the vessel’s side. Before any action could be taken by the officers and crew of the vessel, a second wave lifted it and smashed it down on the rock, completely demolishing the bottom of the steamer. The crew barely escaped by taking to the boats, the captain being the last man to leave the vessel.

[in part] MB 16 August 1913 Martin, Wallace E., Sail & Steam on the Northern California Coast 1900 – 1950, National Maritime Museum Association, Unpublished”

(The database compiler is wrong here also, as the book was published and is available online, used, as cheap as $9)

You’ll note in the Vital Statistics in the Database that the Point Arena was a steam schooner built in 1887 by the Alexander Hay company.

I’ve attached a picture of a sister ship, the Noyo steam schooner, also built by the Alexander Hay company in 1887.

It had crashed into the rocks at La Jolla, was towed to dock in San Diego and rolled over while unloading its cargo of railroad ties. I’ve also attached a newspaper drawing of the Celia, a Beadle boat

that was wrecked in 1902, as the Brooklyn, another Beadle boat, vainly attempts to rescue it. Lastly, I’ve attached a drawing of another brand new Beadle boat, the Santa Ana

and a headline detailing its fate on its maiden voyage to the Alaskan goldfields. There were a number of other newspaper articles detailing the unhappy fate of other Beadle boats, but you get the idea. Being either a sea captain or an insurance agent required sterner stuff back then as opposed to today.

To end on a more positive note, the Alexander Hay boatworks, which built the Point Arena, was for some time located in the China Basin area, near where PacBell Park is now. The filling of this part of the Bay for the expanding population and business interests of San Francisco was a heady time, with the complimentary shipbuilder / lumberyard companies leading the way. The selling of “water lots” to prospective residential buyers and their eventual success at reclaiming and building on them may have contributed to some of the early enthusiasm for the Ocean Shore’s “Paper Cities” developments. Enjoy. John