Not Everyone in Julian Is Sour on Fast Food

David Kersten and Robert Henie showed up in the historic gold-mining town of Julian expecting the worst.

As the owners of Julian’s first-ever fast-food franchises, they feared being labeled greedy invaders in a picturesque mountain town that prizes its quaintness and charm and is to apples what Milwaukee is to beer.

In fact, until last month--until Kersten and Henie came to town--Julian had staved off even the rumor of fast food. Kentucky Fried Chicken and McDonald’s had crept only as close as nearby Ramona.

Julian had remained an outpost of turn-of-the-century architecture, homemade pies and hand-pressed cider.

And then it happened.

“I expected an outpouring of negativism,” said Henie, who, in early September, opened a Subway Sandwiches on Main Street, thus breaking the unwritten code. “I heard people were going to picket us. I started to wonder why on earth I was doin’ this.”

Kersten and Henie both say business is booming, but, for a while, each felt like a pickle between a pair of hamburger buns, smack in the middle of a small-town dispute. And, to make matters worse, this one drew national attention.

It seems Kersten was able to open a Dairy Queen and Henie a Subway Sandwiches only because their landlord, Jerry Zweig, made a deal with the local water board. As one resident said, it was the kind of deal that made Ebenezer Scrooge a part of literary lore.

Zweig’s private well on the Stonewall Stores property, which lists Kersten and Henie as its newest tenants, happens to furnish drought-starved Julian with 30% to 50% of its daily usage of water. Julian gets all of its water from private wells.

Months ago, Zweig made an offer the board couldn’t refuse: He would sell it 30,000 gallons of water a day in return for waivers to bring in fast food. Despite a drought-induced moratorium on new development, Zweig got what he wanted.

As Harry Seifert, manager of the water district, said recently: “We had to give him an exception. The truth is, we are totally dependent on Zweig’s well. . . . How do I feel about being dependent on him? Very uncomfortable.”

The Times and Cable News Network picked up the story, and Michael Judson-Carr, the publisher of the Julian News, said the outpouring since has been one of sympathy and support from across the nation.

Part of the feedback came from water experts, who, according to Judson-Carr, offered to help by exploring new sources of water to free the town of “its dependence on a single individual.”

Zweig, a San Diego developer and an absentee landlord in Julian, could not be reached for comment. But Judson-Carr says the water board, known officially as the Julian Community Services District, is hoping to import water from nearby communities and eliminate the need of buying from Zweig.

In the meantime, fast food has arrived, and, although many of Julian’s 1,300 residents--particularly retirees who fled the hustle-bustle of Los Angeles and San Diego--loathe and lament the new arrivals, kids and parents couldn’t be happier.

“I love ‘em!” junior high school student Zack Mitchell, 13, said of the franchises as he licked a chocolate Dairy Queen cone.

“The best thing is, they live up to their name--they’re fast,” Zac Sawyer, 13, said of the fast-food invaders. “So many of the restaurants around here are soooooo slow.”

And expensive, said Judy Brooking, 33, a mother who treats her two daughters and the neighborhood kids to a fast-food “treat” twice a week. Brooking said that, because tourism is the lifeblood of the town, high prices are often the bane of a resident’s existence.

“But, the prices are starting to come down, all over town,” said Brooking, a nine-year resident. “And, as far as I’m concerned, they can bring in more fast food. It’s quick and convenient, and the competition has made businesses cater to locals.”

Still, it’s hard to tell who holds the majority view. Both Kersten and Henie say the businesses have, if anything, exceeded their wildest expectations. They agree that older residents, tourists and competing merchants are reluctant to say welcome.

“But the townspeople,” Henie said, “are just pouring out of the hills. My business is 95% in-town residents.”

Both franchises have added a new dimension to the Julian lifestyle. Subway Sandwiches is open until 10 p.m. most nights; Dairy Queen is open until 7 p.m. Sunday through Thursday and until 8 on Friday and Saturday nights.

Most places in town “fold up,” as Henie put it, by sunset or even earlier. So now, teen-agers don’t have to drive to Ramona, Pine Valley or even San Diego for a nighttime hangout.

Even so, before the new fast-food restaurants opened, the Julian News conducted an informal poll among residents, and 72% of those interviewed said the franchises were unwelcome, and that they wished they’d go elsewhere.

Virginia Nunez, 65, who with her husband moved to Julian from Santa Monica eight years ago, is one of those who sees the encroachment of fast food as evidence that the long finger of California sprawl has finally reached the rugged Cuyamaca Mountains.

Her fear is that Julian will become exactly like the urban clutter she tried to escape.

“A lot of locals just won’t patronize them,” Nunez said. “One day soon, it’s going to be snowing here. Who’s going to want ice cream at the Dairy Queen then? I guess the kids need something, but most of the tourists who come here are shocked to see these places.”

On a recent lunch hour, that, indeed, seemed to be the case.

Haruko Aki and a group of friends drove from Redondo Beach to Julian, and right away, noticed the new additions.

“We don’t want to go there,” Aki said, pointing to yellow and black letters that now read S-U-B-W-A-Y. “We won’t go there. We (did) not come here for that. We come for apple pie.”

But the younger generation, even among tourists, is more user-friendly when it comes to fast food.

“It’s refreshing!” said Jessica Lewis, 13, of Arcadia, who, with classmates from Pasadena’s Westridge School for Girls, took a respite from hot weather during a camping trip to get an ice-cream snack in Julian.

“We’ve been eating freeze-dried lasagna and tostadas all week in our tents in the Cuyamacas, and we’re sick of them,” Lewis said. “So this is great! I couldn’t be happier! What controversy? How could there possibly be a controversy about a Dairy Queen--anywhere? How silly.”

Travis Mallon, 16, a Julian High School student, said he noticed a peculiar fear taking hold of older residents as the fast-food openings drew near.

“A lot of people thought it would change our way of life around here,” he said. “And it just hasn’t.”

But Barbara Winn, 49, who, with her husband moved to Julian to escape “the zoo” of San Diego’s Hillcrest neighborhood, sees fast food cutting into the town’s quaintness.

“I so hope it doesn’t get like Hillcrest,” she said. “The fear is, we’ve let two in, so now they’ll all come in. After all, this is America. How can you really stop growth and development.”

The lasting truth, Judson-Carr said, is that growth and development--and change--are topics on everyone’s minds. Fast food, he added, is but a symptom of trends that have been sneaking into Julian for years.

For instance, even if Julian is able to import water and turn its back on Zweig’s well, Judson-Carr fears “that’s a double-edged sword. With the water problem then eliminated, what’s the need for a moratorium? And without the moratorium, what’s to stop growth and development?”

Even so, he sees a silver lining in the episode that still has the whole town talking.

“A lot of people are saying that we should end our status as an unincorporated area (of San Diego County) and start to assert ourselves, which you wouldn’t have heard five years ago,” he said. “I find it encouraging that people on the street are starting to say, ‘Hey, maybe if we incorporated, we could control growth and development.’

“And then we wouldn’t have to worry about fast food or Jerry Zweig. We could start to take responsibility for ourselves and our future, and eliminate episodes like these.”