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August 2, 2000

About moments in time

A quote from last week's front page: "new Pacifica resident Page Chung said she and her husband had moved to the coast recently and had fallen in love with Pacifica. 'We love the ridge and city and the small town feeling' she said. 'We don't want it to change.'"

Since I changed Pacifica by moving here on Sept. 30, 1963, I've seen tens of thousands of changes, some for the better. At one point since I moved here, what are known as "pupil personnel" in Laguna Salada school district topped 10,000, housed in 15 schools. (There are now about 4,000 pupils). After I arrived, I was so naive I didn't rush down to city council meetings and demand all changes cease. It didn't occur to me to call myself an environmentalist. I didn't try to stop the filling of the canyons and the bulldozing of the hills that created space for Park Pacifica.

I didn't demand the antenna field for Dollaradio be left in place. Because I didn't fight to prevent Henry Doelger from creating his planned development of Fairmont, he covered the hills with houses. I didn't even object to his mandatory palm trees in the front yards, though I think they're an abomination.

It's obvious from my reviews of local history that the folks who were here in 1950 loved it the way it was. They loved the rural feel of San Pedro Valley when it was a few ranches and farms, growing artichokes and other cool weather crops. The Del Rossos, the Magrins, the Pittos and a handful of other coastal farmers were a majority. Ernst "Harry" Danmann was in his nineties, a resident of Pedro Point since 1879. He too had seen changes. He'd seen the railroad come, then leave. He'd seen that great San Pedro Valley mansion called "The Hermitage" in its glory. He'd seen the wealthy Tobin family that owned it dispose of its coastal acreage. He'd seen the mansion burn.

Up the old coast road, Salada Beach and Brighton Beach and Vallemar, Edgemar and Rockaway were first imagined as delightful rows of beachside summer cottages for vacationing San Franciscans arriving on the train, then subdivided and sold one 25 foot lot at a time.

San Francisco built a golf course on donated land, and two struggling nearby communities welcomed it and changed their names to "Sharp Park." Folks there fought to get enough water. They raised chickens and vegetables, and perhaps a pig or two. One church was enough to serve the community's spiritual needs, but as many as six bars were needed to slake its thirst.

Every year, as the community has changed, as more San Franciscans have moved in to partake of the rural ambience, as veterans have returned from wars to start families, some of the older residents have moved on to other parts of California to regain the rural feeling they were starting to miss. When the Chungs moved in, perhaps their urbanizing presence tipped the balance enough to drive out another family here for decades. Perhaps I did the same when I arrived.

We've only two choices. Change, or stagnate. If we stagnate, this community will die. If we can't thrive in a time when the entire Bay Area is the economic wonder of the world, when will it happen? If we stop our clock when times are good, how will we survive when the cycle turns? Plan for prosperity. House the new residents. Build the hotels.

Some recent Reactor columns may be found at Paul Azevedo's website, http://www.thereactor.net/ Reach him by e-mail at reactor@wenet.net

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