Looking at the way we were

PETER BUFFA

Happens all the time. It really does. People ask me, “Is it hard

writing a column every week?”

“No, it is not,” I reply. “The writing is easy. It’s thinking of

something to write about that’s hard.”

But every once in a while, when the humidity is down, the stock

market is up and the planets are aligned just right, something just

falls in your lap, over the transom, out of the blue. Plop. There it

is.

And so it was this week. Here’s how it happened:

One of my clients is a company called RBF Consulting, which does

engineering, planning and surveying, none of which I understand, but

they do it really, really well. They’ve also done it for a really

long time -- 60 years to be exact.

Today, RBF is a bona fide, nationally recognized big dog, with

over 700 employees and offices in four states, but do you know where

they started?

Take a guess.

I’ll give you hint. If you said Costa Rica, you’re half right.

Yes, it’s true. It all began in 1944, in a small office in Costa

Mesa, behind a garage on Rochester Street and Newport Boulevard. A

few days ago, Bob Crawford, an executive vice president with RBF,

sent me an old report he found tucked away in some long-forgotten

files with a simple “...thought you might be interested” note clipped

to the report.

Boy, was that an understatement.

The title page on the 22-page report, which was impeccably typed

on yellowing tissue paper, read: “Report on Incorporation of Costa

Mesa, California -- October 30, 1945.” The report was done by

Patterson and Boyle Engineers in Santa Ana and had been commissioned

by the Costa Mesa Chamber of Commerce.

Costa Mesa just wrapped up a year-long 50th birthday bash for the

city, which was incorporated in 1953. And here was what appeared to

be the original study on whether or not it should become a city at

all, carefully typed by someone on Oct. 30, 1945 then dropped in my

hands purely by chance -- 58 years and 4 months later.

How cool is that? The correct answer is very cool.

The first thing that strikes you about the report is how much it

reminds you of what a nightmare office work could be. I have only two

words for you -- carbon paper.

Imagine a world with no photocopiers, no Kinko’s, no nothing. When

the boss said, “I need three copies of this,” your heart sank.

And yet, here was a 22-page report on the early history of Costa

Mesa, perfectly typed, without a single erasure. It was impressive.

I’m not sure what’s more entertaining when you’re reading a

historical document like this -- the descriptions of how things were

at the time, or the predictions of how things would be in the future.

I dove into the opening paragraph with gusto: “Costa Mesa is

located north of the City of Newport Beach and is adjacent to the

Upper Newport Harbor. The area has been developed principally as a

residential community, with small farms and poultry ranches. It has a

thriving business center at the intersection of Newport Boulevard and

Harbor Boulevard.”

Yeah, well, Newport and Harbor is still going strong, bud, but the

chickens packed their combs and flew the coop long ago.

The report continues: “Orange County will see its greatest

development in the post-war period ... the coast section of Orange

County will see a tremendous development in the next ten years.”

You had no idea, my friends, no idea at all.

Of course, the report is shot through with wonderful statistics

that bring a smile: total population of Costa Mesa was 4,752; there

were 26.6 miles of streets, with an estimated maintenance cost of

$6,650 per year; the total assessed value was $1,886,510.

There’s also a boatload of bold predictions: “It can be

conservatively said that the population will more than double in the

next ten years. The ultimate population ... would be 28,400.”

Close, but not quite. They were only off by 400%.

They also weren’t very impressed with the job the county sheriff

was doing patrolling the area: “The entire area has inadequate police

protection. The Constable stationed in Costa Mesa is not required to

do patrol work, being only subject to call.”

They were even less pumped about the fire protection (get it?):

“The County of Orange constructed a fire station on 19th Street in

1937. Citizens of Costa Mesa donated the land. The estimated cost of

construction was $10,000. The Fire Department is operated on a

volunteer basis. The Chief receives free rent in the dwelling located

at the rear of the station. Volunteers are paid $2.50 for each fire

call.”

Well that’s pretty cheesy. They couldn’t make it three bucks a

fire?

The section on garbage and trash collection is just as

entertaining: “Garbage is collected twice weekly and bottles and cans

are collected twice monthly. The work is performed by a contractor

for $225 per month. The garbage is hauled to a hog ranch.”

We could have done without the last part, thank you, but it might

explain the separate collections for bottles and cans. If you make

the hogs mad, the whole system collapses.

The organizational chart for the new city is the bell ringer.

Their best estimate was that the new city should have one “fire

chief/building inspector,” two full-time firemen, one police chief

and two patrolmen, a part-time city engineer and a street maintenance

crew of three people.

Finally, there is a bit of mystery -- a barely legible note

scribbled in the margin of one page: “Carol (DP25), the interesting

man (John) wants to know if you will marry him?”

That must have meant something to someone at the time and I’d love

to know how it worked out. So if you know anything about October 1945

in Costa Mesa, the Constable, or Carol (DP25), let me hear from you.

I gotta go.

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

Sundays. He may be reached by e-mail at ptrb4@aol.com.