by Chuck Liddell
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Now that summer is officially here, I thought it would be both nostalgic and educational to explain how summers were enjoyed in the 50’s and 60’s on Catalina Island. Summer jobs for young people were limited only by their imagination. Some carried suitcases in their little red wagons, or rickshaws (I had one) to the hotels and homes in Avalon, when the passengers disembarked from the boats and seaplanes. I would normally charge 25cents per bag, but others would do it “comp” and simply accepted tips (they tended to do a lot better this way). For the adventurous and those wanting to bring in the big bucks, diving for coins when the S.S. Catalina and the Blanche W boats came in was the way to go (sometimes I made $15 per day!). Generally the less skilled swimmers would dive in the shallower waters on the South/East side of the Steamer Pier (approximately where the Blue Water Avalon is now located, 306 Crescent) for the Blanche. The better swimmers would dive on the North/West side — which I did from the age of 6 to 13 (1953-60). As the ship would come within view of Avalon, Miss Catalina speedboats would go out to meet them with their sirens blazing. They were generally driven by Doug Bombard or Rudy Piltch. When I felt in the mood, I would water ski around the steamer, which was exciting, but stupid! Considering the size of the wake the Big White Steamer made and the long periods of time it would take to be picked back up if/when I fell off my water skis, each run was accompanied by a major risk of being hurt (or worse). When diving for coins, we would normally wait for the Catalina to arrive at noon and then dive off the seawall and start yelling, “Throw a coin! Let’s see some silver!” It normally took an hour for all of the passengers to leave the ship. And some stayed behind simply to watch us perform. This performance was repeated again when the ship would leave at 4pm. At the foot of the pier, “Duke” Fishman would lead hundreds of locals and tourists in this greeting ritual of the 2,000 passengers with “Hi neighbor, what’s cookin? Bacon, wanna strip?”, along with the song “Avalon” and any other tunes and questionable comments that he had added to his repertoire since he started doing this in the later 1930s. There were “hawkers” who represented the different hotels. Carl Bailey, “Mr. Big” (6 feet 7 inches), would interview some of those coming off the ship who already had family members on the island that were anxious to know if they had made the long voyage ( 2 1/2 hours) safely. They were able to hear their loved ones voices over KBIG radio.
With all of this dive money, some of us would go to Mother Gray’s, 501 Crescent, where Joe Gray would make up a BIG hamburger for 25cents, with cheese for an additional 10cents, or a hot dog for 15cents, and place the main course on a large paper bag full of french fries (which cost an additional 15cents). Money went a long way in those days. College students found that they could take their dive money and stay a weekend at the Island Villa bungalows (location of the Tour Plaza and Golf Gardens miniature golf course) for $21 and still have enough money left to show off to their date with a nice dinner ($3) and dancing in the Casino (25cents). Sometimes I didn’t want to stay on the beach, so my friends and I would throw a baloney sandwich together with chips and go to the Bird Park, which was free, up until the middle 60’s when the price soared to 25cents, to visit all the birds. After visiting our favorites, we would bike up the storm drain to the Wrigley Memorial to enjoy our lunch. As this area was fenced off and the massive copper doors were locked, we would come in the side way from the East storm drain and then muscle our way up through the openings on the West side of the Memorial. We would then go up to the top of the back of th wall ( I was scared to death) and sit in the archway that overlooked the canyon and have our lunch. When finished, we would coast down the storm drain, generally trying to do so with the minimum use of the handle bars…and we’re still alive to talk about it!
When family or guests came over to visit, which was frequent in the days when travel was only around $2.50 each way, we would have to forgo our moneymaking and cater to their whims. We would often take them on the world’s largest side-wheeler glass bottom boat, the Phoenix, generally finding Capt. Eddie Harrison at the wheel. We would take the Island Tour in a canvas covered bus that would stop at El Rancho Escondido, where award winning Arabian horses were raised. My cousins would be enthralled by the cowboys putting some of the horses through their drill of maneuvering through obstacle courses or showing off the best of the horses by demonstrating its ability to cull out a particular young bison or calf. The tack room was spectacular! Back in town we could get a pony cart from the stables and the pony would know the hour tour, so all you had to do was sit back in your wicker basket and let the pony do its thing. For those who truly wanted a thrill, the Diving Bell at the Casino Point (West of the stairs leading to the Dive Park) would more than fit the bill. If you wanted a good swim and also liked to sun bathe at the same time, you could always go to the beaches in the harbor, where there were two floats off the beaches on their side of the Pleasure Pier. One of the floats even had a high dive. If we wanted to be a little more adventurous, we could go to the Bath House (where the volleyball courts are currently — just before the Mole) and could dive off the high dive — and it was high.
Pt.2.
They had a rowboat tug of war and jousting contests, if you wanted to get more involved and have an audience, especially if you had that special girl you wanted to show off to…
They normally used the salad boats (boat used to clear the harbor of floating kelp and debris). Generally you would want to stay near the beach, as whenever a swordfish or marlin, or other large fish was brought into the harbor, a cannon would go off to let everyone know that the fish was ready to be weighed at the end of the Pleasure Pier, to the East of the Fish Market.
Dozens of bathers would rush out to get close and personal with the fish and try to guess its weight before it was shown officially.
As a beach diversion, if you were lucky, you would be able to jump on a horse drawn hay ride or take a tram to Casino Point.
The evenings were filled with activities, too. I would often attend square dancing (two of the groups were called Bumble Bees and Skippers) that would be followed by youth dancing in the Wrigley Plaza.
Pt.3.
After the dancing was over, they had an old fashioned slide and sing-along set up on the Wrigley Stage. Once it was dark enough, Duke (also a quite renowned photographer) would show slides of Catalina and other romantic locations around the world.
In between some of his educational slides, he would slip in pictures of very scantily “undressed” young ladies — much to the horror of parents who had young children watching. These kids were certainly getting educated…but much too early! If you wanted to see beautiful women with a bit more clothing on, then there was always the Miss Flying Fish beauty pageant for the ladies, and the all male Swim/Flying Fish Club, where young men would be initiated by having themselves doused with the entrails of flying fish, buried up to their heads in sand, and then, with a flying fish hanging from their necks, would swim from Casino Point to one of the two piers.
On special occasions, the flying fish boat, Blanche W. (named for Ada Blanche Wrigley, the first of William Wrigley Jr.’s three grandchildren), was taken on a “cruise to nowhere” when the passengers, and many times the captain and crew, didn’t really know where they were going. But wherever they ended up, fun was guaranteed.
If you wanted to simply sit back and enjoy an evening boat trip, you could pay 25cents to get on the shore boat and, as long as there was still room, you could stay on the boat all evening as it took many celebrities to and from their magnificent yachts. On land there was the Starlight Tour buses that would take passengers through the town and up over the hills to show how spectacular Avalon and the mainland looked at night!
There commentary was kept to a minimum, but with an accordion being played, the Isle of Romance really proved itself to live up to its name!
My job was to go to Joe’s-Rent-A-Boat and find out what unwanted live fish had been caught and brought back to the harbor by the fishermen. These often consisted of small sharks and octopuses. They would be displayed in a trough at the top of the ramp at Joe’s for people to enjoy looking at during the day, or pick out for that evening’s dinner. I would take the rejects by bucket and dump them into the Wrigley Fountain, which would act as a makeshift aquarium. Unfortunately, more often than not, big kids would follow behind me with liquid detergent and squirt it in the fountain, which would eventually kill all of the fish! On certain nights the Casino Ballroom with a live orchestra would be provided for the young people to try out their ballroom dancing skills for free!
These same bands would then play well into the early hours of the morning so that their sounds could be heard all through town.
We had a sundeck on our home at 330 Descanso, where we slept during the warm summer nights. (My grandfather had built all of the homes on Descanso for the Santa Catalina Island Co. in 1921, in hopes that veterans of the Great World War would decide to set up residency in Avalon. It rarely worked out this way.) I would drift off into slumber land listening to the sounds of all the big bands of the day…it was magical! And even when the big bands packed up and left, the Mariachi bands would reliably roam Crescent Avenue both day and night.
Curfew, if I recall correctly, was 9pm. The movie, with its cartoon, travelogue, and countless previews, would change every single night. If the movie ran longer than curfew, Police Officer Bosque (note that the L.A. County Sheriff Department didn’t come to the Island until the early 1960s) would stand on the upper road and, without saying a word or having to gesture, herd us juveniles along the Via Casino walkway to the center of town where we would disperse directly home.
Office Bosque knew all of us and where we lived. If any youth deviated from the most direct route home, he would remind us of where we lived and made sure that we were on the right path! (It is funny looking back on this as none of us seemed to feel that we were being treated unfairly, as we had agreed to this arrangement, which allowed us to go see a film that let out after curfew. We just followed the rules and everyone got what they wanted.) Sometimes we were even allowed to go down to the beach with our parents in the wee hours of the morning when the grunion were running! When the adults wanted to do “their thing”, like going to dances, having a romantic dinner at the Country Club, or going to one of our many night clubs, the youth would have a great time at the El Encanto, which served as our youth center.
At the El Encanto kids could dance, meet with friends, listen to records, watch television, play ping pong, or just hang out, until their parents came to get them. This was all set up through the Community Church and was well chaperoned (although we never seemed to feel their presence). We were having too much fun! On the 4th of July, the fireworks were set off at Casino Point and we were allowed to set off our own displays on the beach on the South East end.
Yes, life WAS different then. It was corny, old fashioned, and some would even say that it bordered on “nerdy,” but we loved it and boredom was something you had to force on yourself because there was so much to do. I know that the expression, “Life was better in the old days!” is often considered simply a way for us “old folk” to try to romanticize our youth, but in Catalina’s case, it is well documented to be true!
Cazuela 