There’s so much that’s no longer there

ROBERT GARDNER

I notice that Mary Burton’s house has disappeared. It stood on Ocean

Boulevard for almost as long as there’s been a Corona del Mar. It’s

always a shame when an old landmark like that is destroyed, although

I realize that a house of that age might not provide the amenities

that people have come to expect in a modern home.

Over the years, we have lost a number of buildings that were part

of our history, most of them in Balboa, where so much of the early

history took place. One of the most noteworthy was the Rendezvous

Ballroom, where all the famous bands of the Swing Era played and

which was the birthplace of a famous dance known as the Balboa hop.

The Rendezvous burned down twice. After the 1935 fire, it was

rebuilt. It burned down again in 1966, and while it had had a brief

renaissance with people such as Dick Dale, it was determined that its

time had passed, and the property was turned into condos. A plaque at

the corner of Washington Street and Ocean Front honors what was once

Southern California’s premier dance hall.

I remember very well the original fire station on Balboa, which

was for years the only governmental building in Balboa. While

primarily for fire protection, it did double duty on Saturday nights

as an impromptu holding cell for the numerous people arrested for

over-indulging in alcohol during the rowdy days of Prohibition.

Today, the site of that original fire station is a parking lot

adjacent to a public restroom that was known at the time as a comfort

station.

Then there was Soto’s Japanese Curio Shop, which stood at the

corner of Bay Avenue and Main Street. Soto’s was headquarters for

several generations of Balboa youngsters who pawed his fragile

merchandise without hindrance from Soto.

Soto was probably the most loved man in Balboa, but he fell victim

to World War II hysteria and, with thousands of other loyal Americans

of Japanese descent, was sent to one of the worst internment camps,

Poston, on the Colorado River in Arizona. Soto never made it back to

his beloved shop.

The Balboa Hotel was on the site of the Balboa post office. The

two-story, single-wall structure was built in 10 days in 1905 to be

ready for the advent of the Big Red Cars of the Pacific Electric

Railway when they came to Balboa. With that kind of construction,

it’s little wonder it was eventually destroyed to make room for the

post office.

Fortunately, some of our history is still here.

The Balboa Pavilion, built in 1905, must have looked like a

skyscraper on the then-barren sandpit. It started as a dance hall,

with Balboa’s first post office on the ground floor. Today, with its

distinctive Victorian silhouette and blue-topped cupola, it is the

most prominent historical landmark in the city.

Just around the corner is another landmark building, the Balboa

Inn, built in 1929. In its day, it was the No. 1 hotel on the Orange

County coast, although the original owners went bankrupt during the

Great Depression. Before the Balboa Inn was built, a lattice

structure sold cold watermelon by the slice on that corner.

The portion of the Balboa Inn next to the alley was the site of

the Balboa Theater, a single-wall, wood structure built in 1913 by J.

P. Greely, the man who built the Balboa Pavilion. For years, it was

operated as a picture show by a colorful, hard-drinking,

hard-swearing character known as Madame LaRue. Its reincarnation

hosted many of the early surf films and even spent a little time

showing blue movies under the Pink Pussycat banner before eventually

closing its doors.

There has been an effort in the past few years to restore the

theater. I hope it succeeds. I don’t want to be the only historical

relic left standing.

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

His column runs Tuesdays.