Paradise Store

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Not to be confused with the Paradise Cafe located downtown on Anacapa, the Paradise Store can be found just off Hwy 154 on Paradise Road. A go between Cold Spring Tavern just up Stagecoach Road, or a stop off when going or coming from the campgrounds, or swimming at Red or White Rock, or just going there directly for the music, beer, and maybe a tri-tip sandwich.

The Paradise Store has bands playing out back in the patio Wed. night and Saturday and Sunday. Sunday has been the day of choice lately, and it always includes a stop at Cold Spring as well. Beers are cheap, no draft, no bar, it is a store, but buy a couple beers and sit out front for the view or take them out back for the music. Far less crowded than Cold Spring Tavern and although it’s located only 4 minutes away, just over 2 miles from the tavern, it gives off a different feeling completely, quiet, more relaxed. A great view across the valley towards Cachuma Lake provides a great photo at sunset or anytime of the day. Got to go elsewhere for the bait and ammo, but stop here for the beer.

Harry’s Plaza Cafe

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If you asked anyone who has lived in Santa Barbara over thirty years about old restaurants still alive, one name atop the short list would be Harry’s Plaza Cafe. Harry’s represents Santa Barbara tradition although tradition has nothing to do with quality. Located in the Loreto Plaza, at State and Las Positas, it has been a main stay since the early ’60s. If you live in Santa Barbara, chances are you have been there for a drink or for food. But if you went for the food, it wasn’t because you were in search of gourmet, more than likely you were just trying to beat the 11:30pm deadline to get your order in. And more than likely you just needed something to help soak up the alcohol you’ve consumed prior to 11:30pm, and something to dine on until the 2:00am bell.

Harry’s consists of a lot of old fashioned circular red booths and an innumerable quantity of very old pictures. If there is one place that has a large number of old pictures of our departed former president Ronald Reagan, it has to be Harry’s. I actually saw him right by the entrance riding his horse and smiling at us in what where undoubtedly better times. Better for him rather than us considering we had come to Harry’s in search of something to eat while we drank.

There are thousands of black and white pictures of Santa Barbara, some probably dating back a hundred years. There are very interesting aerial photos of State Street before it became the State Street we recognize, and lots of memorabilia of all kinds. As a matter of fact, the three giant rooms that compose the restaurant are totally covered with old pictures; that should keep you entertained while you’re waiting for your food or your bill. Maybe they have a secret hope you will become so mesmerized by the pictures that you won’t look at your food when it arrives, or think about it while you swallow.

So, what is safe to order at Harry's? A good question. One would have thought that a chicken pot pie with a side of fries and a hot open face turkey sandwich with mashed potatoes and cranberry sauce, along with a salad with ranch dressing on the side wouldn't have been too complicated. Since we did not specify which side, right or left - the salad came with the ranch dressing smack dab in the center of the salad. The chicken pot pie retained its form and shape for exactly 30 seconds, but on the first scoop, it collapsed like a middle eastern regime never try and rise up again; in two minutes it turned into Technicolor oatmeal (peas and carrots) and shortly afterward, it died. I tried to find some chicken but everything had turned into a uniform and unidentifiable mass. The French fries were nice and crispy and sticking a large fry in the middle of the dead chicken pot pie and squeezing a smaller one across it created a nice cross. A friend once ordered the French dip...don't. So, what is safe to order at Harry's? Any cocktail...except shrimp.

Summer Solstice Parade

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Summer Solstice Parade began in 1974, as a birthday celebration for a popular artist and mime named Michael Gonzales. Michael belonged to a group called the Mime Caravan. After completing a long tour on the road, his birthday celebration spilled onto State Street as he and his friends danced through town wearing elaborate masks. It expanded to something more formal after the Museum of Santa Barbara received a gift of ancient Chinese instruments on the condition that they are played once a year. The museum contacted the artist, and his birthday celebration grew to include music. The parade took place on the Saturday closest to the summer solstice. The rest is history. Unfortunately, so is Michael Gonzales. He died in the 1980’s, and there has been far more Solstice celebrations without him than with him.

Santa Barbara Solstice Parade moves to Clevland, Ohio. Well, sort of. VanLear, who coordinated the parade in Santa Barbara when she worked at the museum there, brought the concept to Cleveland in 1990 to celebrate the Cleveland Museum of Art’s 75th anniversary. Called “Parade the Circle”, many of the floats and costumes are very similar in design.

The Solstice Parade is the largest, single-day arts event in Santa Barbara County, drawing crowds of over 100,000 spectators from around the world.

Earl Warren Showgrounds

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It seems that my interest in the events at the Earl Warren Showgrounds pattern closely a Titan weather report. For those not in the NASA circle, about every 15 years there is a change…quite similar to how I viewed the showgrounds.It began for me as a concert venue, in the days of black lights, bell bottoms, recreational drugs [alledgedly]. I was only in my first year of Junior High, but thankfully my friend had an older sister and we got to join in on many an adventure I probably would have missed otherwise. From the Greasy Slough Duck Club, the Trout Club, and the Earl Warren showgrounds.

So the Titan weather report calls for rock concerts; Led Zepplin, Cream, Blind Faith, and a list of others that I can’t recall. I don’t know why the concerts stopped, or maybe I did and they didn’t. But it just seemed like the music got smaller, and moved to the Santa Barbara County Bowl, the Arlington Theater, anywhere other than Earl Warren.

Titan weather report [15 years later] – not exactly ‘yee haw’, ‘howdy pardner’, but life in Sonoma County had put California country into me. Boots, cowboy hats and a haircut. Not just a haircut, the first one in about 9 years. Visiting Santa Barbara every so often, I’d actually check out the rodeo held in the summer. Who’d believe that 15 years later my boot would be side stepping a pile of horse manure in the same spot where I’d been frozen in a daze, standing under a stack of Marshall speakers watching Jimmy Page or Eric Clapton perform guitar magic.

Titan weather report [15 years later] – Off track betting on the horse races. It’s really not a part of the showgrounds, but operates on the showground property. Doesn’t matter to me though, it serves my purpose. Now the marquee usually seems to be advertising a dog show, cat show or flower show. Doesn’t matter to me. As long as I can place a wager if I need to, then I’m happy. Of course, there is no substitute for actually being at the track, especially down along the rail, but in an emergency, when you know you’ve got a winner and you need to drop some green, you’re in Santa Barbara…all roads point to the entrance off Las Positas.

Viva La Fiasco!

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Fiesta – Old Spanish Days

In the year 1924, two circumstances motivated the first Fiesta. First there had for some time been a feeling among the business people of the city that Santa Barbara should have an annual summer event to entertain and attract visitors. The city had come to be a favorite place for winter tourists, but these visitors had not been drawn here in any considerable number during the summer months.

Secondly, in August of 1924, the Community Arts Association of Santa Barbara planned the opening of the new Lobero Theatre, which had been erected on the site of the old historic theatre founded by Josx (Giuseppe) Lobero and built by the assistance of Col. Wm. Hollister. A member of the Community Arts Association, J. Wm. McLennen, conceived the idea of having a celebration to mark the opening of the new theatre. He approached a merchants’ association and a committee was formed of which Charles E. Pressley was elected chairman. The group began to formulate plans for the celebration, to be comprised of a number of activities to include a parade, aquatic and sports events and, of course, a gala celebration at the theatre on its opening night.

1924 — The First Historical Parade

1926 — La Fiesta Pequeña

1934 — Noches De Ronda Santa Barbara County Courthouse Garden  

1936 — La Misa Del Presidente

1949 — El Mercado

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With it’s history in place, the Fiesta for me represented nearly a week of eating good Mexican food, drinking a lot of beer, and watching the fiesta goers from one of the best vantage points.

My friend Arturo was the son and nephew of the owners of two of Santa Barbara’s finest restaurants. The El Paseo restaurant, one of the two, was located in the historic El Paseo, in the center of downtown. The main section was an open air plaza with a balcony that housed a couple offices, the important one being a local modeling agency. Second only to the beautiful girls entering and exiting the agency was that the balcony served as a comfortable bird’s eye view for fiesta goer’s down below. By early evening the plaza was standing room only.

Papagallo’s has closed, the tortas sold at the El Mercado don’t seem to taste the same, and dancing to a mariachi band under a string of lights on a side street corner can no longer be found.

Cold Spring Tavern

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Stagecoach Road is one of Santa Barbara County’s most famous roads. It is part of the original Stagecoach Route when the coach’s ruled the terrain from 1861 to 1910. In 1910 the first automobile drove across the San Marcos Pass, effectively ending the stage coach era. However, Stagecoach Rd. remained the only means of traversing the Cold Springs portion of the San Marcos Pass until 1963, when the construction of the Cold Springs Arc Bridge (and modern day Hwy 154) was completed and motorists could finally pass over Cold Springs and the winding Stagecoach Rd.

15 minutes up the pass and 130 years back in time. Not quite, but it does give a sense of the past, and considering it was established in 1865, it should. The stagecoach has been replaced by a Suburban, and horse power comes in the form of a Harley Twin Cam 88® Engine, an Indian glides up now and then, and the beer is cooled by refrigeration, but just look around at the place and the setting. [photo gallery] By far, my favorite Santa Barbara bar for many years gone by and many years ahead.

Mel’s Bar

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There are Mel’s Bars all across the country. A Mel’s Bar in Denver is a multi-award winning restaurant and bar, but that’s a far cry from the Mel’s in Santa Barbara of which this post is about. We’ve known Mel’s since we were in our early twenties, (we being in particular myself, and friends Chris and Sandy) although Sandy was underage at the time. There actually was once a Mel, Mel Price, but that was way back in the sixties, we first arrived sometime in the 70’s, I think. Mel opened Mel’s after ending his partnership in another bar named Pal’s, located across the street where today the Banana Republic stands. Little had changed inside over nearly 40 years, or at least it wasn’t obvious to me. Mel’s does seem to attract a younger crowd, but after 20+ years of stepping inside the same bar, there comes a time when you yourself have become the old fart at the bar… Even after the Spanish style Paseo Nuevo was built around Mel’s, the retro signage (which wasn’t retro in 1963) still remains out front. Maybe as a familiar beacon for those arriving early, Mel’s used to serve a breakfast menu of Bloody Mary’s starting at 7:30am, but I can’t say what time they open now, I just know what time they close. Only in the last year did it appear that Mel’s interior had undergone a makeover. Although still a dive, it just didn’t seem right to see some of the improvements that had been made.

Don’t fix it if it ain’t broke, maybe it’s karma…but I recently learned that Mel’s had lost its lease. Yes, I remember long ago that Woolworth’s on State and Anapamu had posted gigantic window signs that they too had lost their lease…and it seemed that for the next two years whenever I passed the store, there were the signs. I wondered at the time if they were ever going to leave. But Mel’s… as I’m sure it is considered the canker sore of SB’s beautiful shopping mall, appears to be headed further down State, and I’m sure that the only ones sad to see it move are those of us who remember it way back when. The one thing to remember is that Joe’s moved too, and if you think that brought on major changes – just have a drink or two at the bar… somethings just don’t change. [Okay no more mooosehead, but trust me you wouldn’t have wanted to eat a meal seated underneath it].

King’s Canyon

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It wasn’t that we didn’t want Barbie to come, we were more concerned about her health, she wasn’t ready to make a walk around the block let alone the 5 day backpacking trip we were going to go on. Shelley, her sister, wasn’t ready either, but she was Stan’s wife and he knew if we didn’t let her come along, than five days from now when we got back his life would be miserable. The next 5 days might not be easy, but after weighing the two options, he figured not bringing her weighed alot more than leaving her behind. The night before was preparation and packing. Five days out created some pretty heavy packs and it was understood that although Becky and Shelley carried less, everyone needed to carry their load.

Leaving early a.m. we arrived at Sequoia in time to set out, or rather ‘up’ as our trail led uphill immediately. Problem #1 began with the car still visible not too far below us. Shelley was exhausted. She was actually a shade of pink that did give credence to her complaining that she needed to rest…but I can still see the car below…we’re headed three days in and we’ve only been hiking about 15 minutes! After a break, we struck out again only to make it another half hour before Shelley was complaining about the pack. It was too heavy, it hurt her shoulders, it was…Holy Shit, O.K. Shelley…we’ll pull out as much as we can and put it into Stan’s, Patrick’s, Beckys, and mine. O.K.??? Let’s go. That worked for nearly two hours until the climb got steeper and Shelley need to stop for the umteenth time complaining about the pack. Bloody Hell, Shelley…and we hooked the pack onto Stan’s other pack.

First night out – dinner time. The freeze dried dinners did not meet with Shelley’s standards and so she wouldn’t eat without the threat that we were going to leave her tomorrow on the trail. Just great.

Day two – Stan sprains his ankle, swells up bad. We try to empty his pack(s) into the three of ours to lessen the weight, but he was in pain. I think the pain in his ankle was replaced by the pain in his ears and alittle aggrevation as Shelley moaned and groaned with every step she took.

Second night out – we had been warned about bears and had hung the packs high up over a tree branch. We were sleeping along a large meadow, thinking about the bears, listening to the sounds around us that we thought might be bears, but turned out later to be nothing more than little creatures scampering about. We know that now because either later that night, or early in the a.m., we all woke to the crack of a log across the meadow. That was a bear.

Day three – The photos I took show reflections of the mountains in a lake so clear that it’s not easy at first to know whether the photo is right side up. We had brought fishing poles, broken down to fit in special backpacking tubes. Thinking that the advantage was all ours, we soon discovered that either no fish existed in this lake, or the lures we brought were worthless and we needed to find a bait that the fish dined on. There were alot of little frogs along the shore, and after drowning a couple without even a bite, another idea hit us that required we catch alot of them. The plan was to put them all in a pot, heat ’em up alittle to get them active, call Shelley over and ask her to take off the lid to the pot and ‘Hello little frogs’ – 30 to 50 of them jumping out as high and fast as they are able. With hot feet and a fear that we were French, they were trying to get out of that pot any way they could, through the lid if possible, so we had to put a stone on top to keep them all in for their ‘welcome’ to Shelley. At the last minute we thought that if she had a heart attack, we’d either have to pack her out, or bury her near the lake. Nobody willing to carry her, and no shovels to dig with, we decided to scap the idea which only added to our fustrations with Shelley. Just to put her on edge we told her of our plan. She seemed to complain less during the day, but I imagine she didn’t sleep too well, keeping one eye open, unsure whether we had a Plan”B” that we hadn’t mentioned.

Day four – We revisit the frogs in the pot idea. We wonder what we brought along that would dig a large hole.

Day five – Back down the mountain, back at the car. First priority to get a six-pack of beer from the store at the campground. With the station wagon back folded down, a cold beer in hand, looking up at the mountain we’d climbed over,…Shelley says “that was fun, when are we going to do this again?”.

If we don’t look happy, it’s only because after Shelley’s comment, Stan, Patrick and I were all thinking that maybe the frog idea was an opportunity now lost.

 

Isla Vista

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Isla Vista is located adjacent to the University of California Santa Barbara [UCSB]. A one square mile town consisting primarily of apartments, a few businesses and a population of over 20,000. Isla Vista was considered by many to be second only to Berkely as a hotbed for political activism, and first came to national attention during the protests of the Vietnam War. The image above is a poster made from a photo of the burning of the Bank of America. Isla Vista first came to my attention as a teenager when I discovered that while only in junior high school, I could walk into a keg party, held nearly every weekend, at one of the frat houses. That eventually added up to spending a long, cold night on the beach without the luxury of a jacket, but theonly other option offered from the local police was to be taken in custody. They really didn’t want to bother with paperwork and told us to just leave Isla Vista. Without car, 2:00 in the morning…where else could we go?, except of course with the kind officers for a ride to juvenile hall. That ride would come a couple years later. For the next few years it was a regular hangout, playing pool late night, and hanging around the beach throughout the day.I lived in Isla Vista on three separate occasions, my first apartment out of high school, and two more times for summers when the town wasn’t so crowded and when the law changed allowing Isla Vista to sell beer and wine, and I was at an age to legally purchase it. Passed out on my dog was taken the summer after high school, and is a pretty accurate representation of what that summer was like. My buddy Hugh and I first moved to Isla Vista for the summer just before heading to college. Hugh worked at an electronics firm and I spent days playing pool at the UCSB Student Center with a transplant from Boston. We both were pretty good and soon found that hours of practicing straight pool daily was beginning to be less challenging. Moving our rack to the snooker table our aim had to be dead on, the table was both wider and longer and we were using oversized balls for the size of the snooker pockets. At first, for a few days that is, our shots rattled around the pockets but not dropping in. By day four we were on track. After a week of straight pool on a snooker table we were good, and after moving back, the tables looked like the little quarter a game tables found in bars. We were dead on and won a number of small bets with players who thought they were the next Fast Eddie. We took on and beat all comers. I never hustled pool, but I grew up with a table in the house since I was in the seventh grade and could usually hold a table at the bar until bored or blind. I can’t say the the same for hustling my friend Hugh when it came to chugging beers. Hugh’s weakness was not being able to back away from a dare, or the idea of losing in competition. The chug a beer contest started one night… hold the beer can upside down with mouth wide open and pull the pop tab. Glug, glug, glug – however, as simple as it sounds I never thought I could beat Hugh, nor did I ever once try. I simply reached down and grabbed an empty, there were plenty around, and out of the corner of my eye watched Hugh… just before he thought he crossed the finish line first, I crushed my empty can, filling Hugh with another 12 oz. of disappointment. The second chug was usually by my coaxing, but the third was definitely Hugh’s futile attempt to pull out a victory before staggering down the hall talking to himself. This continued for a couple months but there was change, Hugh was getting faster. I barely had time to reach down and grab an empty, he was really fast, really, really fast. I placed money on Hugh on more than one occasion and never did have to pay out.

I Madonnari

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Street painting, using chalk as the medium, is an Italian tradition dating to the 16th century. Called “Madonnari” because of the practice of reproducing the image of the Madonna (Our Lady). The Madonna was the most reproduced artwork. In Italy, the tradition lives on in the village of Grazie di Curtatone, where the International Street Painting Festival is held in August each year in front of the Catholic church. The early Italian street painters were vagabonds who would arrive in small towns and villages for Catholic religious festivals and transform the streets and public squares into temporary galleries for their ephemeral works of art. With the first rains of the season, their paintings would be gone. On the plaza of the old Santa Barbara Mission “I Madonnari” Italian Street Painting Festival takes place every year in May for three days.

After traveling to the festival in Italy, Kathy Koury produced the first-year event in 1987. In this year, the Santa Barbara Mission was celebrating its bicentennial. Father Virgil Cordano and the bicentennial committee members agreed to accept the street painting festival as a part of their celebration. From that time on, the festival has continued to grow and now is being replicated in other cities throughout the U.S.

Squares are drawn in a grid on the pavement in front of the Old Mission, dividing the plaza into 150 squares. The squares range in size from 4′ by 6′ to 12′ by 12′ and in price from $100 to $500, each one bearing the name of its sponsor, which can be a business, organization or individual. As the public watches, local artists then fill these pavement canvases with imagery, often elaborate compositions in unexpectedly vibrant colors.

In another part of the plaza, small squares will be sold for children to create their own street paintings alongside other activities for children. The response is ever growing with available squares usually sold out in March.