Fall, 2000 

Headline:Santa Cruz FACTS- Believe It or Not!

From 1957 to 1979 Santa maintained a California residence in Scott's Valley called Santa's Village. Located just off highway 17 at the start of the incline to the summit, Santa's Village offered year round access to Christmas icons like elves, real reindeer packed in a tiny corral, Mrs. Claus' kitchen snack bar, a gingerbread house, a bobsled ride, a whirling Christmas tree ride, and a mill-wheel toy factory. Perhaps for those skeptical about the Santa thing, there were other themes added to the mix: Alice in Wonderland, Jack Pumpkin Head, the Easter Bunny, Little Bo Peep, and the Good Witch all helped to round out the target demographics. Santa even operated a gas station.

Eventually, Santa met the same sorts of obstacles that stop many other wealthy, reclusive eccentrics: zoning problems, government beaurocracy, inability to control local weather, and competition. Contrary to rumors, there is no evidence that the corporation was brought to its knees by an elf strike.

"Uncle" Dave Boffman was born into slavery in Kentucky, where he fathered several children before his "master," Newton Baughman, made him a tantalizing offer: Dave could accompany Newt to California's gold rush, partner up with him, and, if he could accumulate a thousand dollars, buy his freedom.

Mr. Boffman's trip to California was arduous. Travelling alone at times, he was chased by slave hunters/thieves, barely escaping by jumping into a river amidst a hail of bullets. Later, he was captured by indians who, never having seen a black man, touched his black skin for luck and treated him more like a curiosity than a captive. Dave escaped without much trouble, and ultimately made it to California with Newt.

They did well on the claims, and in 1851 Dave bought his freedom. His next goal was to buy his family's freedom as well.

To this end he went into the redwood lumber business in Santa Cruz, and that's where his luck started to turn bad. He leased a saw mill, and after a hard year's work had enough lumber to fill a schooner bound for San Francisco. His hopes were dashed upon the rocks as the schooner, likewise, was dashed upon the rocks in a storm off Pescadero. The cargo was a total loss; Dave was ruined.

Dave did field work for a few years until he managed, in 1860, to buy a 45 acre ranch, on which he planted grain. Things looked good, and he started making plans to get his family back.

Cruel fate intervened when local sheriff John Porter, in a classic example of abuse of power, swindled Dave out of his land and livestock, leaving him, once again, broke.

Dave Boffman went back to manual labor, befriending a local minister who helped him obtain 40 acres of nearly worthless brush covered land on Vine Hill (partway up Hwy. 17, on the right), which Dave managed to clear by hand and plant with an orchard and vineyard. Earning just enough to get by, he lived there for 30 years, known as a bit of an eccentric who always had a colorful story. Locally known as "Uncle" Dave, he had given up on his dream of ever finding his family. He never did own a pair of shoes.

[for the big story, go to http://www.santacruzpl.org/history/people/dave.html ]

Charlie Parkhurst was one of the most famous stagecoach drivers on the line between Los Gatos and Santa Cruz, partly because of the skill with which Charlie managed the horses, and partly because not until Charlie's death was it was discovered that Charlie was a woman.

Born Charlotte Parkhurst in 1812, Charlie had worked as a stage driver and as a man since the early 1850's. Blending right in with the other "whips" with her eyepatch, vulgar language, tobacco stained lips, and ornery personality, Charlie set the personality standard for many an over the hill commuter.

Though as a man, Charlie is also on record as being the first woman to vote in the United States, in1868.

[http://www.santacruzpl.org/history/people/prkhrst.html]

Monterey Bay is host to dozens of shipwrecks, but among the more interesting is the loss of the La Feliz just a few miles north of Santa Cruz, just below what is now UCSC's Seymour Marine Discovery Center. It was October 1924, and the 72' coastal freighter was on another run to San Francisco with Cannery Row sardines when bad weather and bad judgement drove the ship onto the rocks, proving that the fastest route isn't always a straight line. A dramatic rescue from the cliffs above pulled the crew, which included a cat and a dog, to safety, but the ship was doomed. The next day, calmer weather and a low tide allowed the nearby populace to discover and appropriate loose cases of sardines floating near the wreck. The ship was stripped in days. Today, all that's left is the wooden mast leaning against the cliff.

Separated by a dozen years and thirty miles but otherwise totally unrelated, an American submarine visiting the Watsonville Apple Festival of October, 1912 broke its anchor lines in heavy seas and quickly drifted onto the beach in the dead of night. The Apple Festival was a very big deal then, with many dignitaries and huge crowds, and the navy had sent two submarines and a ship to add to the festive atmosphere (in its own awkward way, a sweet gesture). Awakened inside the sub by the impact, two of the navy's finest rushed up and out the conning tower, where they were immediately swept off to their deaths. The rest of the crew survived, either by waiting for a boat to pick them up or making a risky swim to shore in the giant surf. The second submarine, fearing the same fate, started its engines just in time, nearly colliding with the Watsonville Pier (now nonexistent) before pulling out to safety.

Removing the 350 ton sub from the sand was difficult. A navy tug was dispatched from the San Francisco Bay, and then two more, to no avail. Finally, 8 days later, a heavy cruiser, the Maryland, arrived to lend a propeller, and the sub was pulled free. There are pictures of the sub on the wall at the Front Street Brewery, and no Navy admiral can pass by on his way to the bathrooms without blushing.

Just 20 miles away from here lies a canyon that drops over two miles down- underwater! The Monterey Canyon starts at Moss Landing, halfway around the bay where the two big smokestacks are, and starts its twisty drop into the depths, bisecting the bay and attracting big research bucks. That little ditch called the Grand Canyon is only half as deep.

Born a small gully about 30 million years ago, the canyon migrated north, alternately above and below sea level, until it reached its present location and depth. The canyon continues to develop as fast moving, sediment laden "turbidity currents" flow down and scour the bottom and walls yet deeper.

Light only penetrates down a quarter of the depth, and after that it's a world of weird creatures like giant squid and creatures that generate their own light. Sea temperature drops to about 40 degrees down there, and at the bottom the water pressure is 320 times what it is at the surface. The Monterey Canyon also boasts fewer tourists, no ornery mule trains, easier access, clearer water, and much less air pollution than the Arizona wannabe.

For over 40 years Axel Erlandson practiced his dark art of arboreal topiary on innocent box elder and sycamore trees, charging the public to see the twisted, tortured plants at his so-called "Tree Circus." This tourist curiosity suited the tastes of dark-souled, sap-thirsty visitors to Scott's Valley from 1947 to 1964. This was before highway 17 was built, and his grove of horrors was planted right alongside what was then the main road.

Employing patient systems of grafting, twisting, and coercion (When asked how he got his trees to grow like this, he would reply, mysteriously, "I talk to them."), he created such profane oddities as a ladder tree, a double helix tree, spiral trees, zigzag lightning trees, and four trees joined into one to form a four-legged table. Perhaps to improve his image, he also created a "heart tree."

When Axel died, the property was purchased and reborn as another in the long list of weird Scott's Valley entertainments, the "Lost World," which still included the trees but added huge plastic dinosaurs. This venture, incredibly, failed, and the property fell into disrepair until Michael Bonfante purchased the surviving trees to replant at his Hecker Pass Family Park, in Gilroy. Great ideas just never seem to die.

[for the horrific pictures, go to: http://www.arborsmith.com/treecircusnf.html]

If Axel were less patient, he might have been tempted to try his tricks with a faster growing plant, one that grows up to 18 inches a day: Giant kelp, which grows quite well locally and is handily located right next to major beaches, the city's main tourist draw.

According to a book of California ghost activity by Antoinette May, the area's most active ghosts inhabit areas that coincidentally are in the business of attracting paying overnight guests.

This direct attack on our tourist industry by unexplained phenomenon may be a message from past denizens protesting the increase in tourist activity, or perhaps they are being deliberately prevented from finding their eternal rests by facility owners eager to cater to the ghost hunting crowd… nobody can say for certain. The fact remains that the owners of the house overlooking red, white and blue beach, a privately operated beach campground, report tremendous amounts of ghostal mojo: mysterious lights, sightings of an old sea captain wandering around, beds shaking violently, and even things mysteriously tossed around the room. The house sounds pretty unbearable, yet the family stays. The new owners of the Brookdale lodge, an old, funky, fascinating facility up highway 9, report that sometimes there are weird unexplained sounds, smells, sightings of a mysterious little girl in 1940's clothing, and radios and televisions turning themselves on and off. An attempt at exorcism by two ministers from the Campbell-based Church of Nova Spiritus seemed to make matters worse, as the murdered gangsters will tell you on a dark night… mwahahahaha.

[some history: http://www.santacruzpl.org/history/tourism/brookdal.html ]

The swinging sounds of the Ed Rookledge Orchestra were among the activities you might be able to partake aboard the Palo Alto in 1930. The ship boasted a ballroom, 54 foot swimming pool, carnival concessions, a cafe, and a bar. During its entire two year career as a party ship, it didn't move an inch. You can still go out and walk on it, but the party's over.

The Palo Alto was built by the US government during WW I as a tanker. Since the war effort had used up most of the steel supply by then, it was made out of concrete. By the time it was finished, the war was over, and it stayed in dry dock in Oakland until 1929. The Cal-Nevada company purchased the ship, towed it to the beach here, and pulled the plugs to the below-decks storage tanks, causing it to settle onto the sand. They built a pier to the ship, and fixed it up as a major tourist destination. During the depression, however, the party dollar was scarce, and the operation folded. The ship was stripped again, and sold with the adjoining property to the state for a dollar. Today the ship serves as a fishing pier, sea bird sanctuary, and artificial reef for a variety of marine critters. Check it out down by Rio Del Mar.

On Oct 14, 1887 an otherwise prostitution-tolerant Santa Cruz was shocked by the testimony of 15-year old Lulu Miller, who unabashedly admitted to a desire to enter into a life of prostitution. When it was revealed that she was being encouraged to do so by her 40 year old sleazeball gambler husband, James, the newlyweds were locked up in separate cells for the night until the justice could decide what to do with them.

At around 11pm, while the officers were out making their rounds elsewhere in town, a group of about 40 disguised men forcibly liberated James from his cell, marched him across Front Street and down to the river, where he was stripped, painted with warm tar, and rolled in a bed of feathers. They then marched him across the Soquel street bridge and told him to keep walking, or else.

http://www.santacruzpl.org/history/crime/crime.shtml

From 1924 to 1985, Santa Cruz hosted the Miss California pageant, much to the delight of the local Chamber of Commerce and anyone else getting wealthier off the event and subsequent increased tourism. Not everyone was thrilled, though. Right off the bat there were protests against the shameful women wearing makeup and showing skin right up to their shoulders. Eventually, local feminists took greater offense than even the moralists and staged repeated protests at the pageant site, including a mock "Myth America" pageant enacted outside the Civic Auditorium, complete with evening wear made out of sliced lunch meat. Organizers decided that San Diego might better suit their needs, and the protesters found themselves roundly criticized by vegetarians outraged by the undignified use of God's processed, packaged, and sliced creatures.

According to missamerica.org, there are no hard feelings towards Santa Cruz or its women, who are invited to participate in the pageant as long as, among other requirements, they have never been married or pregnant. Suspiciously, however, this year's Miss Santa Cruz County, an 18 year old forensic pathology major at Cabrillo who sang a medley from Oaklahoma!, did not win.

http://www.santacruzpl.org/history