Corona del Mar has come a long way

The early phases of history of an area are usually couched in the

time-honored phrase “lost in the mists of antiquity.”

In the case of Corona del Mar, its early history is not lost in

the mists of anything. Rather, its early history stands out in stark

relief, telling of a city born in the doldrums and remaining firmly

encased in those doldrums for 40 years. Balboa Island, under the

promotional skills of W. S. Collins and his successors, had its ups

and downs, its feasts and famines. While it’s hard to believe today,

for a long stretch, Corona del Mar had only dreary failure.

At one time, Frank Rinehart, the city clerk, acting on behalf of

the city, offered every tax lot in Corona del Mar, hundreds of them,

to Joe Rossi of Rossi’s Cafe, for $10,000. Joe turned the offer down

and never regretted his decision.

When we moved to Corona del Mar in 1947, it was a quirky little

place. How quirky I didn’t realize until my daughter came home one

day and announced that Buffalo Bill was in town. I was dubious since

William Cody had died in 1917, but she insisted that she had seen him

with her very own eyes and dragged me off to a building on Coast

Highway between Heliotrope and Goldenrod. Standing there was a man

with long white hair and flowing whiskers who did indeed look like

Buffalo Bill. His name was actually Col. Blake, and he was a

collector of Wild West memorabilia, which he displayed in his

building. How someone enamored of that particular historical period

ended up in a small beach town, I have no idea. All I know is that

one day Col. Blake picked up and left town, and that was the last

anyone heard of him.

Another enterprise I remember from the early days was Brookings, a

five and dime carrying a little bit of everything. I remember the

store not from its contents but from its owners. The store was run by

a couple of the same name. Mrs. Brookings was a large, vigorous woman

with strong features and a brisk, almost martial air as she made her

way down the sidewalk. Mr. Brookings was less imposing, a small,

slightly stooped man who trotted behind his formidable wife a dutiful

one pace to the rear, carrying her purse. In their store, Mrs.

Brookings sat augustly behind the counter accepting payment with the

gracious air of someone doing you a favor, while Mr. Brookings

scurried around helping customers find what they needed in the

crowded aisles.

Today, there isn’t a trace of either establishment. The former

Wild West show is an anonymous office building, and I think a deli

has replaced Brookings. Of course, there’s not a trace of those early

land values, either. Corona del Mar certainly isn’t in the doldrums

today. And $10,000 not only won’t buy you the town, it won’t even buy

you a car to drive around town.

* ROBERT GARDNER is a Corona del Mar resident and a former judge.

His column runs Tuesdays.