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The Rusty Preisendorfer story is a San Diego story
Our county's highest paid carpenter, 1940s San Diego in my novel, notable stucco, lost roads, used books tell the story, El Cajon Bl. motorcycle repair, Silberman-Jerry Brown transcripts
Rusty with two surf contest winners, 1994. "What ruined the surf industry? It was neon."
A shirt for a surf hero
For the last 10 years Rusty Preisendorfer has been one of the surfing world's dominant figures. Not because he’s such a great surfer, but because he designs and builds the wave tools that have allowed the best surfers in the world to push the sport to today’s almost absurd levels.
By Steve Sorensen, Nov. 24, 1994 Read full article
Amazing baseboard stories
In 1970 homes and apartments were popping up on every parcel of undeveloped land from Bonita to Santee, and every one of those units received base. At the time there were about a dozen basemen in the county. “I remember back when we were doin’ Fletcher Hills and this Indian — lost both legs in Korea — useta scoot around on a skateboard and cut the base with a goddamned tomahawk!”
June 24, 1993 Read full article
Looking east down Mission Valley, 1951. Time moved slowly. No one seemed to be in a hurry. There was, after all, no place better to go.
How San Diego found its way into The Mortician's Apprentice
I left home, went to live in a fraternity house on La Mesa Boulevard. I was a fairly bright kid, but I flunked every other course I took at San Diego State, a tiny college back then of 3500 students. The old campus of lovely, Spanish-style, one-story buildings is still there, but it’s buried behind huge utilitarian structures that now house 30- to 40,000 students.
By Rick DeMarinis, Nov. 3, 1994 Read full article
Pollareno’s largest residential jobs were for two of San Diego’s best-known developers. Both built massive houses in Rancho Santa Fe and demanded the best.
Stucco worked well for the Mayas, built much of Rome, and covers San Diego
Turn-of-the-century San Diego architects Irving Gill, Richard Requa, Frank Mead, Hazel Waterman, Carleton Winslow, William Templeton Johnson, Lillian Rice, and many others embraced stucco for its ability to make a building a composed whole. The grayness of untinted, unpainted concrete was highly desirable,
By Peter Jensen, Dec. 1, 1994 Read full article
The filled-in canyon between University Avenue and old Douglas Street, still looks like a filled-in canyon. And the street still boasts its white wooden 1944-vintage road barriers. We are looking west-northwest.
Lost Roads of San Diego: California St., Douglas St., Sorrento Rd., Camp Callan Ave.
In case you didn’t notice, we lost a historic downtown street just recently. Toward the end of 1992, most of the street signs for California Street came down. We shall not see them again. California Street, that slummy 19th-century drive on the west side of the railroad tracks, is gone for good, and the only reminders left us are stenciled notices from the Santa Fe Railway.
By Margot Sheehan, March 4, 1993 Read full article
Illustration of the author and his brother
The Ginger Man led a San Diego artist down the road to self-destruction
“Cool,” I said, checking out the contents. It was full of paperbacks, mostly science fiction novels of indefinite vintage. Robert Heinlein, Frederick Pohl, books acquired over a period of decades. Olaf Stapleton’s Odd John, C.S. Lewis’s That Hideous Strength, old cult books from some long-forgotten college lit class. “Jesus, Rog, you’re shucking the books of your youth. Don’t you care about your past?”
By Robert Houghton, March 11, 1993 Read full article
Hog luv
Motorcycle owners spend a proportionately greater time hanging around the repair shop than car owners do. Bike owners will oversee the work, maybe pace, shoot the breeze with the unappreciative mechanic, and inwardly wring their hands like someone visiting a close friend in the hospital with appendicitis.
By John Brizzolara, March 25, 1993 Read full article
Federal wiretap logs of Richard Silberman, Carlos Bustamante, Jerry Brown
DS says against my better judgment I talked to him [Bustamante] he's out making letters of intent with Mexico, Bustamante own most of the vacant land along the border. Roberto de la Madrid is the current runner for Bustamante. DS Japanese friends are running out on him.
April 8, 1993 Read full article
He had obviously seen us on the Mission Avenue on-ramp and had purchased the beer and vodka before picking us up.
Hitchhikers have a brush with sleaze at Aliso Creek
In the winter of 1980, Jimmy Howard moved from San Diego to Huntington Beach. We didn’t see much of each other until one April afternoon, when I answered a knock on the door to find Jimmy standing on my doorstep. He had a smile on his face and a skateboard in his hand, and he told me he had hitchhiked all the way from Huntington to rattle my stinking cage.
By P.N. Gwynne, June 17, 1993 Read full article
Here's something you might be interested in.
The Rusty Preisendorfer story is a San Diego story
Our county's highest paid carpenter, 1940s San Diego in my novel, notable stucco, lost roads, used books tell the story, El Cajon Bl. motorcycle repair, Silberman-Jerry Brown transcripts
The Rusty Preisendorfer story is a San Diego story
Our county's highest paid carpenter, 1940s San Diego in my novel, notable stucco, lost roads, used books tell the story, El Cajon Bl. motorcycle repair, Silberman-Jerry Brown transcripts
Rusty with two surf contest winners, 1994. "What ruined the surf industry? It was neon."
A shirt for a surf hero
For the last 10 years Rusty Preisendorfer has been one of the surfing world's dominant figures. Not because he’s such a great surfer, but because he designs and builds the wave tools that have allowed the best surfers in the world to push the sport to today’s almost absurd levels.
By Steve Sorensen, Nov. 24, 1994 Read full article
Amazing baseboard stories
In 1970 homes and apartments were popping up on every parcel of undeveloped land from Bonita to Santee, and every one of those units received base. At the time there were about a dozen basemen in the county. “I remember back when we were doin’ Fletcher Hills and this Indian — lost both legs in Korea — useta scoot around on a skateboard and cut the base with a goddamned tomahawk!”
June 24, 1993 Read full article
Looking east down Mission Valley, 1951. Time moved slowly. No one seemed to be in a hurry. There was, after all, no place better to go.
How San Diego found its way into The Mortician's Apprentice
I left home, went to live in a fraternity house on La Mesa Boulevard. I was a fairly bright kid, but I flunked every other course I took at San Diego State, a tiny college back then of 3500 students. The old campus of lovely, Spanish-style, one-story buildings is still there, but it’s buried behind huge utilitarian structures that now house 30- to 40,000 students.
By Rick DeMarinis, Nov. 3, 1994 Read full article
Pollareno’s largest residential jobs were for two of San Diego’s best-known developers. Both built massive houses in Rancho Santa Fe and demanded the best.
Stucco worked well for the Mayas, built much of Rome, and covers San Diego
Turn-of-the-century San Diego architects Irving Gill, Richard Requa, Frank Mead, Hazel Waterman, Carleton Winslow, William Templeton Johnson, Lillian Rice, and many others embraced stucco for its ability to make a building a composed whole. The grayness of untinted, unpainted concrete was highly desirable,
By Peter Jensen, Dec. 1, 1994 Read full article
The filled-in canyon between University Avenue and old Douglas Street, still looks like a filled-in canyon. And the street still boasts its white wooden 1944-vintage road barriers. We are looking west-northwest.
Lost Roads of San Diego: California St., Douglas St., Sorrento Rd., Camp Callan Ave.
In case you didn’t notice, we lost a historic downtown street just recently. Toward the end of 1992, most of the street signs for California Street came down. We shall not see them again. California Street, that slummy 19th-century drive on the west side of the railroad tracks, is gone for good, and the only reminders left us are stenciled notices from the Santa Fe Railway.
By Margot Sheehan, March 4, 1993 Read full article
Illustration of the author and his brother
The Ginger Man led a San Diego artist down the road to self-destruction
“Cool,” I said, checking out the contents. It was full of paperbacks, mostly science fiction novels of indefinite vintage. Robert Heinlein, Frederick Pohl, books acquired over a period of decades. Olaf Stapleton’s Odd John, C.S. Lewis’s That Hideous Strength, old cult books from some long-forgotten college lit class. “Jesus, Rog, you’re shucking the books of your youth. Don’t you care about your past?”
By Robert Houghton, March 11, 1993 Read full article
Hog luv
Motorcycle owners spend a proportionately greater time hanging around the repair shop than car owners do. Bike owners will oversee the work, maybe pace, shoot the breeze with the unappreciative mechanic, and inwardly wring their hands like someone visiting a close friend in the hospital with appendicitis.
By John Brizzolara, March 25, 1993 Read full article
Federal wiretap logs of Richard Silberman, Carlos Bustamante, Jerry Brown
DS says against my better judgment I talked to him [Bustamante] he's out making letters of intent with Mexico, Bustamante own most of the vacant land along the border. Roberto de la Madrid is the current runner for Bustamante. DS Japanese friends are running out on him.
April 8, 1993 Read full article
He had obviously seen us on the Mission Avenue on-ramp and had purchased the beer and vodka before picking us up.
Hitchhikers have a brush with sleaze at Aliso Creek
In the winter of 1980, Jimmy Howard moved from San Diego to Huntington Beach. We didn’t see much of each other until one April afternoon, when I answered a knock on the door to find Jimmy standing on my doorstep. He had a smile on his face and a skateboard in his hand, and he told me he had hitchhiked all the way from Huntington to rattle my stinking cage.
By P.N. Gwynne, June 17, 1993 Read full article
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