PETER BUFFA -- Comments & Curiosities

It’s like a time warp. I take that back. It is a time warp. It’s

called Crystal Cove. And as coves go, they ain’t making any more like it.

There are hundreds of miles of California coastline, with more coves

and inlets than you can count. OK, that’s not true. You can count them.

But it would take a really, really long time.

If a genuine, early 20th century California beach community is what

you’re after -- if you’re looking anywhere but in our own backyard --

you’re looking for cove in all the wrong places. There’s only one left,

and we got it. The question is, can we hang on to it?

But first, some journalistic housekeeping. I am not an impartial

observer. I’m producing a television documentary about Crystal Cove State

Park, which is being funded under the generous auspices of Joan Irvine

Smith and the National Water Research Institute. The California

Department of Parks and Recreation and the State Office of Historic

Preservation have been very helpful with both interviews and information.

As you probably know, the state is in the process of studying the

options and developing a vision for what happens to Crystal Cove from

this point forward. But whatever the future may hold, it’s been a blast

of a past.

Crystal Cove is a place where time has stopped. Exactly when it

stopped depends on your mind’s eye and the calendar of your own life. But

I think most people would say sometime in the 1940s. Most of what you see

today was built in the ‘20s and ‘30s, then expanded, improved and

tinkered with over the years. But there’s very little of it that taps you

on the shoulder and says, “Hi, I’m 1955” or “I’m 1969. Peace, dude.”

To me, the whole place drips 1938 Ford Woodies, canvas beach chairs

and clunky Schwinn bicycles with fat tires and wire baskets on the

handlebars. Being from the Right Coast, the closest parallel for me is a

classic summer camp on a lake in New Hampshire or Maine: small cabins

arranged neatly around a main building with a pitched roof and three

steps up to the porch. And, of course, a sign with an Indian chief and

some impossibly long name, Camp Runamukawowpow.

But if there are any volunteers for hiking about 3,000 miles west,

you’ll eventually end up in the California equivalent -- Crystal Cove.

Except here, the Indians were real. California coastal tribes like the

Chumash lived in settlements in places like today’s Crystal Cove and

Fairview Park and lived off the sea.

Ironically, the first modern day white visitors to Crystal Cove were

cameramen, not fishermen. The first structures in the current “Historic

District” were built by silent film crews from Hollywood in the “teens.”

Thatched roofs made of fronds from nearby palm trees turned the picture

perfect beach into everything from Bora Bora to Robinson Crusoe’s island.

In Newport or Laguna, the locals were stunned to find the likes of

Ronald Colman or Pola Negri or Alla Nazimova strolling by during a break

or a day off. The Cove has been host to hordes of Hollywood crews ever

since and was as much a part of the cast of “Beaches” as Bette Midler

was.

By the 1920s, Hollywood had to share the beach with a growing number

of visitors who would bump and clatter along Pacific Coast Highway from

far and wide to spend a day, or a summer, at the Cove. At first, they’d

pitch a tent or two. But over time, the tents were replaced by a few

rustic huts and cabins that might, or might not, be there for your next

visit.

In fact, according to longtime “Crystallite” Laura Davick, the

unwritten rule was that anything built had to have a thatched roof to

make it look like one more set piece for the next film. By the 1930s,

most of what you see in the Cove today was alive and well and from June

to September, the joint was jumpin’.

But set that history book aside and dig out that biology text. You

remember biology -- mitosis, meiosis. I could never remember which was

which. Anyway, according to Dennis Kelly, professor of marine science at

Orange Coast College and one of the most respected voices in the field,

Crystal Cove is a natural laboratory for marine science unlike almost any

other in the world. It is a favorite birthing area for bottlenose

dolphins, and the only known area where certain dolphin birthing

behaviors have been clearly documented.

The full history and heritage of Crystal Cove is a much, much bigger

picture than we can paint here, but as painting goes, Thursday was a red

letter day (what does that mean anyway?) at Crystal Cove. “Images of

Crystal Cove” was the kickoff event of a new “Arts in the Parks” series

sponsored by the State Parks Department and the California Arts Council.

Thursday’s event, which was underwritten by Mrs. Smith, was a

“paint-off” among some of the top plein air artists in the area. It was

called a “quick paint” because each artist has exactly two hours to

choose a subject and complete a watercolor from start to finish.

The public was not only welcome but stood right at the artists’ sides

as they worked. It was a rare opportunity to see the creative process

unfold before your eyes and, more importantly, through the eyes of a

top-tier artist. The artists were very accommodating, even with one of

those obnoxious video crews hovering around them.

I tell you, those television people are an annoying lot. So there you

have it. The smallest taste of Crystal Cove and how it has evolved over

the years. It’s still a work in progress, and no one is entirely sure how

story will end. But stay tuned. More later. I gotta go.

* PETER BUFFA is a former Costa Mesa mayor. His column runs Sundays.

He may be reached via e-mail at [email protected].