COMMENTS & CURIOSITIES

peter buffa

What is history? I’m glad you asked. I don’t know. History is one of

those things that seem simple but can be very hard to define, like the

fundamental mysteries of nature. Why can’t you tickle yourself? How does

dry cleaning work? Can you use the “10 Items or Less” line if you’re

buying a dozen eggs? Stuff like that. By the way, who started this

affectation of using “an” instead of “a” before “historic?” Makes me

crazy. Do we say “an history” of whatever or “an hill” of beans? Of

course not. It’s almost as annoying as people who say “momento” when they

mean “memento.”

Sorry, where were we? Oh right, history. Anyway, the Costa Mesa City

Council was in an historic (just kidding) state of mind recently and

commissioned a survey of all the structures of historical significance in

Costa Mesa. The report identified 172 buildings that deserve a little

respect, thank you. Of those, 31 have a chance of being listed on the

federal or state Registry of Important Stuff, to use a technical term.

The obviously important buildings in town are all on the list: the Diego

Sepulveda, or Estancia Adobe, which dates back to about 1800; the

Segerstrom Home Ranch property, in the family for more than 100 years and

still serving as the company’s home office; and the Methodist church on

19th Street, built in 1928 and one of the tallest structures in the

county at the time. By the way, you can thank the Segerstrom family --

again -- for the survival of the Estancia Adobe, which is one of the

oldest structures in California. The Segerstroms were the most recent

owners of the land where the Adobe stands and donated the structure,

along with five acres of parkland, to the city in 1963. The Adobe has

been carefully maintained since then by the Costa Mesa Historical

Society. Estancia Park, by the way, is also the site of the city’s most

important archeological find -- the well-preserved remains of a mastodon,

a big animal that looked like an elephant draped in shag carpet.

Interestingly enough, the home of our very own mayor, Gary Monahan, made

the cut. So like what was my house, chopped liver? I guess so. But I’m

not bitter. It seems the list is off to a good start, but I’m anxious to

see the whole cannoli.

That’s because I’m a big “googie” fan. I’m sorry, Pete, you’re a big what

fan? Googie, I tell you, and you might be surprised to know that Costa

Mesa is a must-see stop for googie fans across the country. Googie

architecture is the 1950s’ version of those wonderfully wacky motels and

coffee shops that dotted the American landscape in the ‘30s and ‘40s --

adorned with giant milk bottles, teepees, 30-foot tall chipmunks or

two-story doughnuts. By the mid-1950s, the space race kicked in, and

googie was born. The best description of googie is what you’d end up with

if you let the Jetsons design your city. For those who can remember it,

the original Tomorrowland at the Magic Kingdom was ground zero for the

googie movement, which is why Anaheim became the capitol of googie. Every

other motel, restaurant or liquor store looked like a head-on collision

between the Jetsons’ space ship and a truckload of Fiestaware.

Most of the Anaheim googie has disappeared, but Costa Mesa offers some of

the finest surviving examples. Take a trip to Harbor Boulevard and Adams

Avenue and you’ll get a double googie blast. The first is the old Edwards

Cinema on Adams. If that sign doesn’t scream “The Jetsons” at you, your

memory is shot. (By the way, Jim, could we slap a coat of paint on the

place and lose the plywood patch beneath the box office? Thank you so

much.) Around the corner on Harbor, at the south end of Mesa Verde

Center, is the landmark Kona Lanes sign -- a googie masterpiece. Head

south on Harbor and turn right on Wilson. Immediately to your right is a

veritable, and venerable, googie icon -- the Mauna Loa Apartments. Don’t

worry, you can’t miss it. It’s the best example of a googie sub-set

called tiki. It’s as if someone airlifted a longhouse from Bora Bora and

dropped it beside Harbor Boulevard.

But to see the piece de resistance, the cornerstone of the city’s claim

to googie fame -- you need to ease on down to Newport Boulevard and 22nd

Street. There it stands. The essence of googie. The core of the reactor.

The place where the calendar always reads 1959 no matter how many years

go by -- the Ali Baba Motel.

Have you ever seen anything like it? Neither have I. Could it be more

bizarre? I think not. If you have a chance, rent a video copy of Dan

Akroyd’s “Dragnet.” The film opens with a montage of SoCal landmarks --

the Santa Monica Pier, Dodger Stadium, Disneyland, Mann’s Chinese

Theater, etc. And there, for one, fleeting moment is the Ali Baba -- in

all its googie glory, with its towering, mosque-like dome gleaming in the

sun. Most people had no idea that it’s a motel in Costa Mesa of course,

but for us googie fans, it was the equivalent of Rhett Butler and

Scarlett O’Hara finally embracing against a fiery sunset. So stay tuned.

When the historic list of historic places is history, we’ll see who knows

their googie and who doesn’t. Oh, I almost forgot. It’s Friday the 13th.

Boo.

I gotta go.

PETER BUFFA is a former Costa Mesa mayor. His column runs Fridays. E-mail

him at PtrB4@AOL.com.