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Memories of bonfires amid the pits off Palm
Before it was Ocean View Hills, it was party central
From the Montgomery High School Class of 1989 Reunion Facebook page.
It was always the 92154. Not IB, not San Ysidro, and not Chula Vista, but the 92154. Well, not always: sometimes, it was referred to as Otay Mesa or South San Diego. It was a region situated between Chula Vista, sometimes referred to as “Chula Juana,” and San Ysidro, which was just “on the border.” Easy reference points. Palm Avenue stretched from Imperial Beach at 9th Street all the way west to 805 South. The on-ramp to the 805 North was the end of the road. Well, except for the stretch of concrete center median that went about 60 more feet before coming to a dead end. Then the asphalt ended, left there in case of future development, and multiple dirt paths led out into the rough terrain beyond. It was desolate, but so many memories begin at that eastern endpoint.
Everyone who shares those memories called the place The Pits. Why did they call it The Pits? Probably because, as the LA Times put it in 1986, it was “the site of the only two toxic-waste landfills ever licensed in San Diego County.” Plus, “a county garbage dump, and…an illegal toxic dump that is on the federal Superfund cleanup list. One of the toxic landfills was operated by the county between 1960 and 1980, and officials estimate that 20 million gallons of waste went into its open pits. The wastes included everything from spent sulfuric acid and brake fluid to sewage and asbestos scrap.” The piece cites rumors that the remains of the original Shamu are nearby in another dump site. “Now the site of the original pits, which have been filled in, can be used for development under Chula Vista’s plan.” But before that happened, it was our place to party.
Intersection of Firethorn and Palm, with Mount Pits in the distance, from the YouTube video "McDonald's on Palm Ave. and Surrounding Area - 1984."
Prohibited pastimes, from the YouTube video "When Walkmans Ruled the Earth," taken at The Pits, 1989.
The year was 1989. The place was Montgomery High School. The time was sixth period. The talk was, “Are you going to the party tonight?” The answer was yes. But first, you had to load up on supplies. There was a great pizza joint right off the 805 at Palm: Pizza Stop. Delicious. And I loved the logo: just a picture of a traffic light and a pizza. (There’s a KFC on the spot now.) There was a liquor store next to the pizza joint; a guy named Frank ran it with his brother and sister. I miss them sometimes. The place got demolished, and they moved the liquor store to the back of the strip mall, where it still stands today.
I have vivid dreams of that strip mall: the Palm Ridge Shopping Center. The Mickey D’s is still there, and there’s still a gas station where I would go to buy sodas, snacks, and candy. And then there was the matter of beer. I wasn’t into the beer runs; we had fake IDs we had bought in downtown San Diego, but we used those only when we went into Tijuana or to clubs in San Diego. Me and my friends would just ask an adult if they would buy us a couple of 12-packs of Natural Ice. We did get burned a couple of times — asking the wrong person, or even an undercover cop — but it was worth the risk. (Nights in Tijuana in the late ‘80s were a story in themselves. Going down there was still the norm: Cinco de Mayo or Club A or Margaritas Village or Las Pulgas Disco Club. What a time.)
As you headed east on Palm Avenue and crossed the Beyer Avenue/Picador intersection, you would start to see them: flickering orange spots, spread unevenly across the landscape. Bonfires — every Friday night. Conversing with buddies. Music on full blast from the “pull out” car stereo hooked into the MTX wooden speaker box in the backseat. Empty beer cans tossed into the back of a friend’s dropped Nissan truck. As I drive up Palm now past Dennery Road, it curves to the right, and as I scan the patches of brush, I realize I might be looking at the exact spot where I was raving. It’s like a dream of another world.
We weren’t the only ones enjoying the freedom of the wilderness. During the day on the weekends, you had off-roaders doing their thing: dirt bikes, quads, three-wheelers, all riding right past the signs that prohibited off-road activity. Once in a while, the cops would show up to rain on their parade and cite them. What did they expect? Many of those signs just got knocked over, or even shot to pieces by guys in 4x4 trucks. Some areas were fenced off, but the fences got cut — probably on a Friday night.
Now, the whole area is another world: the Ocean View Hills community. The streets have names like Regatta Lane, Island Breeze Lane, Sea Lavender Way, and Daysailor Court. Tract homes and big box stores. The rest is history; the history of the Jogger! The Palm Avenue Jogger; what happened to him? These new residents may not remember him. He jogged the whole stretch in his famous running boots. Really cool to talk to.
I still pass Montgomery High School on a daily basis, and it still sends my mind back to those days. Cheers now to Gen Z. Long live South San Diego.
Here's something you might be interested in.
Memories of bonfires amid the pits off Palm
Before it was Ocean View Hills, it was party central
Memories of bonfires amid the pits off Palm
Before it was Ocean View Hills, it was party central
From the Montgomery High School Class of 1989 Reunion Facebook page.
It was always the 92154. Not IB, not San Ysidro, and not Chula Vista, but the 92154. Well, not always: sometimes, it was referred to as Otay Mesa or South San Diego. It was a region situated between Chula Vista, sometimes referred to as “Chula Juana,” and San Ysidro, which was just “on the border.” Easy reference points. Palm Avenue stretched from Imperial Beach at 9th Street all the way west to 805 South. The on-ramp to the 805 North was the end of the road. Well, except for the stretch of concrete center median that went about 60 more feet before coming to a dead end. Then the asphalt ended, left there in case of future development, and multiple dirt paths led out into the rough terrain beyond. It was desolate, but so many memories begin at that eastern endpoint.
Everyone who shares those memories called the place The Pits. Why did they call it The Pits? Probably because, as the LA Times put it in 1986, it was “the site of the only two toxic-waste landfills ever licensed in San Diego County.” Plus, “a county garbage dump, and…an illegal toxic dump that is on the federal Superfund cleanup list. One of the toxic landfills was operated by the county between 1960 and 1980, and officials estimate that 20 million gallons of waste went into its open pits. The wastes included everything from spent sulfuric acid and brake fluid to sewage and asbestos scrap.” The piece cites rumors that the remains of the original Shamu are nearby in another dump site. “Now the site of the original pits, which have been filled in, can be used for development under Chula Vista’s plan.” But before that happened, it was our place to party.
Intersection of Firethorn and Palm, with Mount Pits in the distance, from the YouTube video "McDonald's on Palm Ave. and Surrounding Area - 1984."
Prohibited pastimes, from the YouTube video "When Walkmans Ruled the Earth," taken at The Pits, 1989.
The year was 1989. The place was Montgomery High School. The time was sixth period. The talk was, “Are you going to the party tonight?” The answer was yes. But first, you had to load up on supplies. There was a great pizza joint right off the 805 at Palm: Pizza Stop. Delicious. And I loved the logo: just a picture of a traffic light and a pizza. (There’s a KFC on the spot now.) There was a liquor store next to the pizza joint; a guy named Frank ran it with his brother and sister. I miss them sometimes. The place got demolished, and they moved the liquor store to the back of the strip mall, where it still stands today.
I have vivid dreams of that strip mall: the Palm Ridge Shopping Center. The Mickey D’s is still there, and there’s still a gas station where I would go to buy sodas, snacks, and candy. And then there was the matter of beer. I wasn’t into the beer runs; we had fake IDs we had bought in downtown San Diego, but we used those only when we went into Tijuana or to clubs in San Diego. Me and my friends would just ask an adult if they would buy us a couple of 12-packs of Natural Ice. We did get burned a couple of times — asking the wrong person, or even an undercover cop — but it was worth the risk. (Nights in Tijuana in the late ‘80s were a story in themselves. Going down there was still the norm: Cinco de Mayo or Club A or Margaritas Village or Las Pulgas Disco Club. What a time.)
As you headed east on Palm Avenue and crossed the Beyer Avenue/Picador intersection, you would start to see them: flickering orange spots, spread unevenly across the landscape. Bonfires — every Friday night. Conversing with buddies. Music on full blast from the “pull out” car stereo hooked into the MTX wooden speaker box in the backseat. Empty beer cans tossed into the back of a friend’s dropped Nissan truck. As I drive up Palm now past Dennery Road, it curves to the right, and as I scan the patches of brush, I realize I might be looking at the exact spot where I was raving. It’s like a dream of another world.
We weren’t the only ones enjoying the freedom of the wilderness. During the day on the weekends, you had off-roaders doing their thing: dirt bikes, quads, three-wheelers, all riding right past the signs that prohibited off-road activity. Once in a while, the cops would show up to rain on their parade and cite them. What did they expect? Many of those signs just got knocked over, or even shot to pieces by guys in 4x4 trucks. Some areas were fenced off, but the fences got cut — probably on a Friday night.
Now, the whole area is another world: the Ocean View Hills community. The streets have names like Regatta Lane, Island Breeze Lane, Sea Lavender Way, and Daysailor Court. Tract homes and big box stores. The rest is history; the history of the Jogger! The Palm Avenue Jogger; what happened to him? These new residents may not remember him. He jogged the whole stretch in his famous running boots. Really cool to talk to.
I still pass Montgomery High School on a daily basis, and it still sends my mind back to those days. Cheers now to Gen Z. Long live South San Diego.
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