Some of the grandest mistakes made by past Boards and management were funny (maybe not at the time, but in hindsight), and some were almost tragic.
A former manager made a deal to sell a quantity of decomposed granite from what was a small quarry behind the Maintenance Yard (past where the transfer station (trash) is now). The contractor re-engineering, re-aligning, and paving the section of Mil Potrero Highway from Cedarwood Drive west to the intersection of Cerro Noroeste (Mt. Abel) Road needed the decomposed granite (DG) as a suitable base for the roadway. PMCPOA was paid a reasonable sum for the material, but no one in management seemed to realize HOW MUCH DG they (the road contractors) really needed. The result was the huge pit behind the Maintenance Yard (past the #4 green on the golf course). Many homes on the south slope of PMC have a spectacular view of that pit (scar). PMCPOA has spent thousands and thousands of dollars (much more than they were paid for the DG) to try to get something to grow in that steep slope, even Hydro-seeding it at least twice, but to no avail. It's just dirt.
Over the years, the Clubhouse has been "remodeled" and expanded several times. (The original structure was just the Condor Room space, plus about 40% of the Lounge space; downstairs was just a small snack bar and a storage room). During one of the more extensive expansions, it was decided to use "in-house talent" instead of licensed tradesmen to do the plumbing and electrical work (ostensibly to save money). Consequently, one night the Clubhouse caught fire, and only because it was discovered soon enough, it didn't burn to the ground. Luckily, insurance paid for the damages, and no one was hurt. Faulty electrical work was the reported cause.
I got a call one New Year's Eve afternoon from the then-GM, Mike Duffy. He said the electrical outlets behind the bar in the Lounge had stopped working, all the maintenance guys had gone home (holiday) and they needed the bar working 100% for the New Year's Eve party that night. (Note: I am neither an electrician nor a plumber). Under the bar, I found the sink drain was cobbled together with a piece of radiator hose and a coat-hanger, and it was leaking into an open electrical junction box. I asked where the electrical panel was to shut off the power, went to it (down stairs), and shut off all the breakers. A couple of circuits behind the bar were still on. I found another panel a couple of rooms away, and shut all those breakers off, too. Now, all the circuits were dead. I went back to the first panel to turn it back on, so the rest of the building would have power back, and the circuits were live again (!!) The bar outlets and lights were being powered by two sources. A real electrician was called, and as far as I know, that mess was fixed. Don't even ask about the plumbing problems in that building!
****
Anyone who has been to the Transfer Site (trash dump) can see that it's neat, well-kept, and rarely smells bad. That hasn't always been the case. That same area used to have 15 or 20 regular "dumpsters" -- the dirty, smelly, banged-up boxes with the metal lids that banged--that would smash your fingers if you weren't careful. Each business in the Village had its own dumpster or two, as well. Southside Disposal Company would come once (or twice) a week, and dump each bin individually. The PMC Board of Directors at that time decided that Southside was charging too much for their services, and also decided that PMC could collect and haul its own trash for "much less". (file under "Best-Laid Plans). A used trash-hauling truck was purchased (thousands $$$), and two or three "roll-off" bins (big huge bins) were also purchased (more thousands $$$). Southside was notified by PMC management that their services were no longer needed. Southside promptly came up and hauled all their dumpsters away---including the dozen or so that were being used by the Pine Mountain General Store, 3 restaurants, and a few other businesses. Immediately, the Kern County Health Department notified the General Store and the restaurants that they were in violation of their Health Permits which required those types of business to have a dumpster (trash bin) immediately adjacent to their business (food waste, which couldn't be stored inside the business, also couldn't be placed in small cans or bags--it had to be in a proper trash bin -- on the premises.) Southside was contacted, asking why they removed ALL the dumpsters, not just those being used by Pine Mountain Club. Their reply was that the remaining number was too few to make a trip with the big truck that had the equipment necessary to dump the bins into itself. They WOULD bring up two of the BIG roll-off bins and put them at two locations in the Village. One was placed in the alley behind what is now La Lena Mexican Restaurant, and on was placed in the open area across from what is now Pine Mountain Realty. (where the cut-out figures are). The Health Department was persuaded to consider those locations as "on premises" for the General Store and the other restaurants. BUT (BIG BUT), the roll-offs cost $120 each to dump (they had to be loaded, hauled to the Lebec dump, emptied, and hauled back to PMC). Southside had only charged $7.00 a month (each) to empty the dumpsters. Because they were so big and obvious (and ugly), many people decided to skip the trip to the PMC dump, and dumped their household trash (and construction waste) in the Village bins. Then, warm weather brought the flies---and the smell...
The situation seemed to be getting worse (and exceedingly more expen$ive) by the week, but an ultimate solution soon appeared seemingly out of nowhere. In their rush to "save the Association money", the Board (and management) had neglected to check the county regulations regarding franchises. In Kern County, and most other counties in California, certian businesses (like utilities) are granted franchises for certain areas, and they are the only ones allowed to conduct that business in a particular area. In Kern County, examples of this are cable companies, ambulance service, and trash hauling. Southside had an exclusive franchise to haul the trash ("garbage") in this part of Kern County. Pine Mountain Club didn't, and was violating the franchise rule, and so Southside sued. After lenghthy negotiations (lawyer$$), a plan was hammered out whereby PMC would provide a "Transfer Site", where the trash would be collected, and a portion of it recycled. Trash compactors were installed to compact the trash into special bins which Southside --now becoming "Mountainside Disposal"-- would haul to the Lebec dump to be emptied. Recycling of cardboard, glass, and plastic was required. Kern County Health Department would allow the restaurants in the Village to take their trash to the Transfer Site, as long as it was not allowed to accumulate at the business, and they would be in compliance with the Health regulations. The PMCPOA trash truck and roll-off bins were sold (at a loss). I'm proud to admit that I helped to bring this particular happy ending to yet another "big, bad idea".
Saturday, January 18, 2014
Monday, December 9, 2013
The 800-Pound Gorilla
As mentioned before, the original developer of PMC was Tenneco. Once a particular number of properties were sold, Tenneco exited and turned the project over to the Pine Mountain Club Property Owners Association (PMCPOA). This process was all guided by the original Codes, Covenants and Restrictions (CC&R's) that Tenneco recorded when the project was begun.
Unfortunately, the new Association didn't come with an Owner's Manual. (The Davis-Stirling Act, which laid down the rules and regulations for Common Interest Developments like Pine Mountain Club, didn't exist until 1985.). So, the foundations for the fledgling community were put in place by generally well-intentioned (not always!) but woefully uninformed and unprepared amateurs. The original CC&R's and Bylaws were lifted from State of California statutes and had no editing to make them fit the current or future needs of a year-round community. (Documents produced like this are often referred to as "boilerplate".) Governing documents prepared this way are always ambiguous because the regulations are designed to cover many different situations throughout the State. This ambiguity would prove to be very troublesome (and expensive) for Pine Mountain Club in the comimg years.
The first few years of the Association (PMCPOA) weren't too difficult-- the Board of Directors and General Managers hired by them basically winged it. Problems were small because there weren't a lot of people to deal with. Very few homes, hardly any permanent residents, (when we moved here permanently in 1976, there were 79 permanent residents!) the streets and signs, the stables, golf course and clubhouse were all brand new. The position of General Manager was a fairly low-responsibility, low-paying job--one of the main qualifications was a willingness to move yourself (and accompanying family usually) to 60 miles from nowhere. Realistically, it takes a while to really learn the ropes of a million-dollar-plus organization, certainly a year or more. During the first 3 decades of PMC's existence, the average tenure of a General Manager was about 18 months! So much for long-range planning.
One early GM went around to all the PMC facilities and put padlocks on all the cabinets and storage areas. Everything had locks, and he had the only keys. Turned out he was stealing the Association blind---he just wanted to make sure nobody stole anything but him! Another managed to build a new house and let the Association foot a large portion of the bill for the materials, AND used Association employees to do some of the construction work. Another GM took it upon himself to enforce the Environmental rules himself: a property owner painted his house an "unapproved" color, and balked at changing it. The GM suspended his "Member" privileges (and those of his family) as a "penalty" for violating the CC&R's. When the member's little daughter wanted to go to the Brownie meeting at the Clubhouse, the GM refused to let her go in, because they (her family) were members "not-in-good-standing".
The settlement of THAT lawsuit cost us over 100,000 dollars. (to be continued)
Unfortunately, the new Association didn't come with an Owner's Manual. (The Davis-Stirling Act, which laid down the rules and regulations for Common Interest Developments like Pine Mountain Club, didn't exist until 1985.). So, the foundations for the fledgling community were put in place by generally well-intentioned (not always!) but woefully uninformed and unprepared amateurs. The original CC&R's and Bylaws were lifted from State of California statutes and had no editing to make them fit the current or future needs of a year-round community. (Documents produced like this are often referred to as "boilerplate".) Governing documents prepared this way are always ambiguous because the regulations are designed to cover many different situations throughout the State. This ambiguity would prove to be very troublesome (and expensive) for Pine Mountain Club in the comimg years.
The first few years of the Association (PMCPOA) weren't too difficult-- the Board of Directors and General Managers hired by them basically winged it. Problems were small because there weren't a lot of people to deal with. Very few homes, hardly any permanent residents, (when we moved here permanently in 1976, there were 79 permanent residents!) the streets and signs, the stables, golf course and clubhouse were all brand new. The position of General Manager was a fairly low-responsibility, low-paying job--one of the main qualifications was a willingness to move yourself (and accompanying family usually) to 60 miles from nowhere. Realistically, it takes a while to really learn the ropes of a million-dollar-plus organization, certainly a year or more. During the first 3 decades of PMC's existence, the average tenure of a General Manager was about 18 months! So much for long-range planning.
One early GM went around to all the PMC facilities and put padlocks on all the cabinets and storage areas. Everything had locks, and he had the only keys. Turned out he was stealing the Association blind---he just wanted to make sure nobody stole anything but him! Another managed to build a new house and let the Association foot a large portion of the bill for the materials, AND used Association employees to do some of the construction work. Another GM took it upon himself to enforce the Environmental rules himself: a property owner painted his house an "unapproved" color, and balked at changing it. The GM suspended his "Member" privileges (and those of his family) as a "penalty" for violating the CC&R's. When the member's little daughter wanted to go to the Brownie meeting at the Clubhouse, the GM refused to let her go in, because they (her family) were members "not-in-good-standing".
The settlement of THAT lawsuit cost us over 100,000 dollars. (to be continued)
Sunday, July 21, 2013
What's In a Name?
Many places and streets in PMC bear personal, as opposed to generic, names. You may ask "where did those names come from?" or "who were those people that these places were named for, or after?" I don't think I know ALL the sources for ALL the names, but here's what I know (or at least remember).
The street names throughout PMC were chosen by the developer, Tenneco. Most of the names reflect the alpine or resort flavor that Tenneco was trying to sell. Obviously, they didn't have spell-check then, so there were (and are) some glaring errors: the signs for "Arctic Drive" were spelled "Artic" for many years. And of course "San Moritz" was spelled phonetically, instead of the correct "St. Moritz" (it's still that way!)
Some main streets were given personal names, after Tenneco CEO's, or other VIP at the company. Thus we have Freeman Drive, Symonds Drive, and Askin Drive. Some of the lanes and access roads were given personal names, too, like Schroeder Place, (after Warren Schroeder, an early perennial Chairman of the POA Board), and Gotthard Place----I don't know WHERE this name came from, but knowing some of the antics that went on near there, it may not refer to a person.;--).
Fern's Lake was named for Fern (Fernan) Olivier, who championed the cause of cleaning up what was known as the Lower Lake prior to his death. Lampkin Park was named for Larry Lampkin, one of the first team of salespeople who worked selling PMC property for Tenneco. Larry carried a longtime Pine Mountain tradition of serious partying a little too far, and expired at a young age at the Caravan Inn in Gorman.
The streets in the Village all have names, too. Originally, the buildings in the Village all had addresses of either Mil Potrero Highway, or Askin Drive, but years ago, the KC Fire Department required that all streets and lanes and access roads in PMC had to have individual and distinctive names, so names were chosen. (If you don't like them, blame me). However, some building and business owners never got that memo, so some businesses still have Askin Drive or Mil Potrero addresses listed, even though the building is on Pine Valley Lane, etc.
Prior to this change, many of the lanes and access roads throughout PMC had names that referred back to the street they connected to-- so you had Woodland Lane, Woodland Place, Woodland Court, etc. You can't blame the Fire Department for requiring a change.
Symonds Drive had similar related names. Two of those were changed to "Ebony" and "Ivory". "Why such an odd choice?" you may ask. Someday I'll tell you. (I guess, in retrospect, it's not a lot "odder" than "Sand" and "Gravel" !
Part II
Then there's "Mil Potrero" Highway. I don't what's more difficult: spelling it, pronouncing it correctly, or trying to get someone on the phone to spell it correctly so you'll get your delivery on time (maybe!).
I've seen many places that "Mil Potrero" translates to "thousand meadows (or pastures)" or whatever. It doesn't "translate" to anything, because it's not real Spanish. Correct Spanish would be "Mil Potreros" (plural) not "Potrero" (singular). But the "Mil" was really "Mill" from the "Mill Potrero"-- so named by the Sneddens-- early settlers of this area, who had a cattle ranch in Lockwood Valley, and used the meadow where PMC Golf Course is now to feed their stock in the summer, because it was cooler than the lower elevations. "Mill" referred to the sawmill that existed at the time (Sawmill Mountain took the name as well), and "Potrero" was taken from the Mexican vaqueros who used the word referring to a pasture-like meadow or field.
Mount Pinos is from the Spanish for pine (pino), prounounced "pee-no", the plural being "pee-nos". There is no tilde above the "n" in Pinos. because there's none in pino. However, if pronounced correctly, it comes out "Mount Penis", so most people say "Mount Pie-nos" to avoid embarrassing explanations! To locals, using the words "Mount Piños" is always wrong.
Mount Abel is also called "Cerro Noroeste" (another of those almost unpronounceable Spanish names). Abel is a lot easier to say, but like so many things around here, there's an underlying set of facts:
"Cerro Noroeste, which means northwest hill in Spanish, lies several miles west of Mt. Pinos. It is far more than a hill, since it is nearly as high as Mt. Pinos. Contrary to its official name, it is often referred to as Mt. Abel after Stanley Abel, who was a Kern County supervisor instrumental in having the first road built to the top of Cerro Noroeste in the 1930 and also construction of Highway 33 between Ventura and Maricopa. As a consequence many locals began calling the peak Mt. Abel, maybe because it was easier to pronounce. Among other things Abel is remembered as a member of the Ku Klux Klan and also as the county official who attempted unsuccessfully to have John Steinbeck’s book The Grapes of Wrath banned from county libraries. The controversy over what Cerro Noroeste should be named was resolved in 1990 when the Board of Geographical Names decided in favor of Cerro Noroeste."
The street names throughout PMC were chosen by the developer, Tenneco. Most of the names reflect the alpine or resort flavor that Tenneco was trying to sell. Obviously, they didn't have spell-check then, so there were (and are) some glaring errors: the signs for "Arctic Drive" were spelled "Artic" for many years. And of course "San Moritz" was spelled phonetically, instead of the correct "St. Moritz" (it's still that way!)
Some main streets were given personal names, after Tenneco CEO's, or other VIP at the company. Thus we have Freeman Drive, Symonds Drive, and Askin Drive. Some of the lanes and access roads were given personal names, too, like Schroeder Place, (after Warren Schroeder, an early perennial Chairman of the POA Board), and Gotthard Place----I don't know WHERE this name came from, but knowing some of the antics that went on near there, it may not refer to a person.;--).
Fern's Lake was named for Fern (Fernan) Olivier, who championed the cause of cleaning up what was known as the Lower Lake prior to his death. Lampkin Park was named for Larry Lampkin, one of the first team of salespeople who worked selling PMC property for Tenneco. Larry carried a longtime Pine Mountain tradition of serious partying a little too far, and expired at a young age at the Caravan Inn in Gorman.
The streets in the Village all have names, too. Originally, the buildings in the Village all had addresses of either Mil Potrero Highway, or Askin Drive, but years ago, the KC Fire Department required that all streets and lanes and access roads in PMC had to have individual and distinctive names, so names were chosen. (If you don't like them, blame me). However, some building and business owners never got that memo, so some businesses still have Askin Drive or Mil Potrero addresses listed, even though the building is on Pine Valley Lane, etc.
Prior to this change, many of the lanes and access roads throughout PMC had names that referred back to the street they connected to-- so you had Woodland Lane, Woodland Place, Woodland Court, etc. You can't blame the Fire Department for requiring a change.
Symonds Drive had similar related names. Two of those were changed to "Ebony" and "Ivory". "Why such an odd choice?" you may ask. Someday I'll tell you. (I guess, in retrospect, it's not a lot "odder" than "Sand" and "Gravel" !
Part II
Then there's "Mil Potrero" Highway. I don't what's more difficult: spelling it, pronouncing it correctly, or trying to get someone on the phone to spell it correctly so you'll get your delivery on time (maybe!).
I've seen many places that "Mil Potrero" translates to "thousand meadows (or pastures)" or whatever. It doesn't "translate" to anything, because it's not real Spanish. Correct Spanish would be "Mil Potreros" (plural) not "Potrero" (singular). But the "Mil" was really "Mill" from the "Mill Potrero"-- so named by the Sneddens-- early settlers of this area, who had a cattle ranch in Lockwood Valley, and used the meadow where PMC Golf Course is now to feed their stock in the summer, because it was cooler than the lower elevations. "Mill" referred to the sawmill that existed at the time (Sawmill Mountain took the name as well), and "Potrero" was taken from the Mexican vaqueros who used the word referring to a pasture-like meadow or field.
Mount Pinos is from the Spanish for pine (pino), prounounced "pee-no", the plural being "pee-nos". There is no tilde above the "n" in Pinos. because there's none in pino. However, if pronounced correctly, it comes out "Mount Penis", so most people say "Mount Pie-nos" to avoid embarrassing explanations! To locals, using the words "Mount Piños" is always wrong.
Mount Abel is also called "Cerro Noroeste" (another of those almost unpronounceable Spanish names). Abel is a lot easier to say, but like so many things around here, there's an underlying set of facts:
"Cerro Noroeste, which means northwest hill in Spanish, lies several miles west of Mt. Pinos. It is far more than a hill, since it is nearly as high as Mt. Pinos. Contrary to its official name, it is often referred to as Mt. Abel after Stanley Abel, who was a Kern County supervisor instrumental in having the first road built to the top of Cerro Noroeste in the 1930 and also construction of Highway 33 between Ventura and Maricopa. As a consequence many locals began calling the peak Mt. Abel, maybe because it was easier to pronounce. Among other things Abel is remembered as a member of the Ku Klux Klan and also as the county official who attempted unsuccessfully to have John Steinbeck’s book The Grapes of Wrath banned from county libraries. The controversy over what Cerro Noroeste should be named was resolved in 1990 when the Board of Geographical Names decided in favor of Cerro Noroeste."
Harry Nelson
Sunday, July 14, 2013
Apache Saddle Part II
Once the seasonal license issues were overcome, the Apache Saddle (or just "The Saddle") became a full-fledged bar. Food in the restaurant was good or it wasn't, but the bar kept on.
Over the years, like many similar establishments, it acquired its cast of characters. The Tidwells, Chuck & Marge, the original owners, and their children Tommy and Patty Tidwell Shirley, ran the restaurant for the first few years, hiring staff to do all the work, and then hiring managers to manage the staff. Some of those managers were as colorful as their customers.
One such manager was a guy named Bill Marsh. He started in the middle of summer one year, and his first big weekend was Labor Day (Oktoberfest). I warned him prior to the weekend that he was going to be really busy -- "human car wash" busy. I saw him on Labor Day Monday afternoon, and asked him how it went. "Man, this place is half-full of a$$holes", he declared. "Yeah, and it's only half-full," was my (tongue-in-cheek) answer.
Since PMC was growing at a rapid pace in those early years, many of The Saddle's "characters" were in the construction business. Jerry Kiger, Bullet ('cause he moves so fast! ;-)
Pee-Wee the Roofer, Cecil Chambers, Chuck Hartley, Lance Hartley, Dick Murphy, to name but a few, all helped build Pine Mountain Club from a resort into a community. Del Archer Construction started in Malibu building mansions, and then Del and his crew came to Pine Mountain Club and built some "mountain mansions". Del's crew all hung out at The Saddle after work and on weekends, and some are part of legend. Some of those stories I'll tell later, but I'll just list a few names now: Norm Jessel, Buck & BJ Sawyer, Black Bart (who won a Silver Medal at the Olympics), and of course, Del & Barb.
One of the best stories is as much legend as truth. I can't vouch for the story because I wasn't ever there (how'd that happen??). Her name shall be kept confidential, but she came to be known as "Bootsie". The name came from her occasional habit of (when well-inebriated, and in the company of an equally inebriated crowd of onlookers) dancing on the top of the bar in go-go boots... That's all --- just boots. If those wall could talk! -- and a lot of us old-timers are relieved they can't. (It wasn't really me and JW that used all the disco records as Frisbees off the upper deck that night, when most of them made it all the way over the golf course fence---those guys just looked like us!)
Once the seasonal license issues were overcome, the Apache Saddle (or just "The Saddle") became a full-fledged bar. Food in the restaurant was good or it wasn't, but the bar kept on.
Over the years, like many similar establishments, it acquired its cast of characters. The Tidwells, Chuck & Marge, the original owners, and their children Tommy and Patty Tidwell Shirley, ran the restaurant for the first few years, hiring staff to do all the work, and then hiring managers to manage the staff. Some of those managers were as colorful as their customers.
One such manager was a guy named Bill Marsh. He started in the middle of summer one year, and his first big weekend was Labor Day (Oktoberfest). I warned him prior to the weekend that he was going to be really busy -- "human car wash" busy. I saw him on Labor Day Monday afternoon, and asked him how it went. "Man, this place is half-full of a$$holes", he declared. "Yeah, and it's only half-full," was my (tongue-in-cheek) answer.
Since PMC was growing at a rapid pace in those early years, many of The Saddle's "characters" were in the construction business. Jerry Kiger, Bullet ('cause he moves so fast! ;-)
Pee-Wee the Roofer, Cecil Chambers, Chuck Hartley, Lance Hartley, Dick Murphy, to name but a few, all helped build Pine Mountain Club from a resort into a community. Del Archer Construction started in Malibu building mansions, and then Del and his crew came to Pine Mountain Club and built some "mountain mansions". Del's crew all hung out at The Saddle after work and on weekends, and some are part of legend. Some of those stories I'll tell later, but I'll just list a few names now: Norm Jessel, Buck & BJ Sawyer, Black Bart (who won a Silver Medal at the Olympics), and of course, Del & Barb.
One of the best stories is as much legend as truth. I can't vouch for the story because I wasn't ever there (how'd that happen??). Her name shall be kept confidential, but she came to be known as "Bootsie". The name came from her occasional habit of (when well-inebriated, and in the company of an equally inebriated crowd of onlookers) dancing on the top of the bar in go-go boots... That's all --- just boots. If those wall could talk! -- and a lot of us old-timers are relieved they can't. (It wasn't really me and JW that used all the disco records as Frisbees off the upper deck that night, when most of them made it all the way over the golf course fence---those guys just looked like us!)
Monday, March 4, 2013
Apache Saddle, Part 1
The third oldest building in the Village is the gambrel-shaped center portion of what is now Madd Bailey's Pub. In 1975, Dave Peters and Chuck Tidwell, both of Pine Mountain Real Estate, and Fred Westlund of Westlund Construction, decided to build a bar/restaurant an the commercial lot next to the Pine Mountain General Store. Who owned what or what portion I don't know, but ultimately full ownership of the property belonged to Dave Peters.
The viability of such a venture was unknown at the time, so to hedge their bets, the building was constructed in a gambrel shape, with a large ridge beam that could be attached to a crane, allowing the whole structure to be lifted up, and moved to a residential lot. That was Fred Westlund's theory, anyway. Luckily, it never had to be tested.
The business was give the name "Apache Saddle"-- a nice Western-sounding name. The name was taken from the area just west of Pine Mountain Club, where Mil Potrero Highway meets Cerro Noroeste Road.
A saddle is a dip or low point between two areas of higher ground. A saddle is not necessarily the lower ground between two hilltops; it may be simply a dip or break along a level ridge crest. If you are in a saddle, there is high ground in two opposite directions and lower ground in the other two directions. A saddle is normally represented as an hourglass.
The original layout of the building was similar to the way it is now, except the addition on the east side wasn't there yet, nor the deck above. The dining room was upstairs along with the windowed bar, and downstairs was a sort of coffee-shop area with booths. In order to facilitate delivery of food to the dining room above, a dumb-waiter was installed in the kitchen that opened in the wall above. The kitchen staff would load the food on trays, and then, like an elevator, they would push a button and the food would rise to the floor above. Similarly, the dirty dishes could be sent below, descending magically to the kitchen below. In theory...
In reality, if the load was too heavy, the dumb-waiter would just sit there, or if at the top, drop like a stone, crashing into the sink at the bottom. At least you don't have to wash broken dishes and glassware!
Once opened, the Apache Saddle became the only place west of Lebec that sold hard liquor. The PMC Clubhouse had no bar at all at the time (more about that later), and the General Store only sold beer and wine. In fact, at first the Saddle only had a "seasonal" liquor license. If I recall correctly, 3 months a year they couldn't serve alcohol. After two or three years, it was upgraded to year round. During those "dry" months, we would drive on Friday, Saturday, or Sunday nights to Gorman, to the restaurant/bar at the Caravan Inn, to get a proper cocktail.
Originally, the business was owned by the Tidwell family, and managed first by Tommy Tidwell, and then by his sister, Pat (Tidwell) Shirley. They (the Tidwells) didn't work there, their source of income was local real estate, but rather they employed local residents to cook, serve, bar-tend, etc. Later, they advertised for managers to run the entire place. Some of the most colorful characters ever to inhabit Pine Mountain Club first came here to work at the Apache Saddle. For a long time it seemed that the qualifications for working in the Apache Saddle kitchen were (among others): a pulse, mostly-sober (at least before noon), can find the stove/oven, knows the difference between raw chicken and frozen hamburger, etc. You didn't need to know how to order supplies--when an order came into the kitchen from the dining room, you just walked next door to the Pine Mt. General Store, got what you needed, and put it on the Saddle's account. Some very "interesting" dishes came out of that kitchen.
The original "ventilation" system for the kitchen consisted of a little exhaust fan like you would put in a normal home kitchen-- not nearly adequate for a commercial cook-top and a flat-top grille. Consequently, even in the cold months, the kitchen would get unbearably hot, even with the back door wide open to the cold. One day I walked by the open kitchen door and the "cook" was standing at the stove in his boxer shorts!
All that aside, some very good food did emerge from the kitchen on occasion. Uly Paz, a crazy, hot-tempered Filipino, made chicken adobo and duck a l'orange that were truly memorable. George Crane, who originally came from New York and New Jersey, cooked smoked pork chops, sauteed pasta, and prime rib to die for. But in reality, for those early years, neither the food nor the cocktails had to be that good, because there was virtually no competetion.
(to be continued...)
The viability of such a venture was unknown at the time, so to hedge their bets, the building was constructed in a gambrel shape, with a large ridge beam that could be attached to a crane, allowing the whole structure to be lifted up, and moved to a residential lot. That was Fred Westlund's theory, anyway. Luckily, it never had to be tested.
The business was give the name "Apache Saddle"-- a nice Western-sounding name. The name was taken from the area just west of Pine Mountain Club, where Mil Potrero Highway meets Cerro Noroeste Road.
A saddle is a dip or low point between two areas of higher ground. A saddle is not necessarily the lower ground between two hilltops; it may be simply a dip or break along a level ridge crest. If you are in a saddle, there is high ground in two opposite directions and lower ground in the other two directions. A saddle is normally represented as an hourglass.
The original layout of the building was similar to the way it is now, except the addition on the east side wasn't there yet, nor the deck above. The dining room was upstairs along with the windowed bar, and downstairs was a sort of coffee-shop area with booths. In order to facilitate delivery of food to the dining room above, a dumb-waiter was installed in the kitchen that opened in the wall above. The kitchen staff would load the food on trays, and then, like an elevator, they would push a button and the food would rise to the floor above. Similarly, the dirty dishes could be sent below, descending magically to the kitchen below. In theory...
In reality, if the load was too heavy, the dumb-waiter would just sit there, or if at the top, drop like a stone, crashing into the sink at the bottom. At least you don't have to wash broken dishes and glassware!
Once opened, the Apache Saddle became the only place west of Lebec that sold hard liquor. The PMC Clubhouse had no bar at all at the time (more about that later), and the General Store only sold beer and wine. In fact, at first the Saddle only had a "seasonal" liquor license. If I recall correctly, 3 months a year they couldn't serve alcohol. After two or three years, it was upgraded to year round. During those "dry" months, we would drive on Friday, Saturday, or Sunday nights to Gorman, to the restaurant/bar at the Caravan Inn, to get a proper cocktail.
Originally, the business was owned by the Tidwell family, and managed first by Tommy Tidwell, and then by his sister, Pat (Tidwell) Shirley. They (the Tidwells) didn't work there, their source of income was local real estate, but rather they employed local residents to cook, serve, bar-tend, etc. Later, they advertised for managers to run the entire place. Some of the most colorful characters ever to inhabit Pine Mountain Club first came here to work at the Apache Saddle. For a long time it seemed that the qualifications for working in the Apache Saddle kitchen were (among others): a pulse, mostly-sober (at least before noon), can find the stove/oven, knows the difference between raw chicken and frozen hamburger, etc. You didn't need to know how to order supplies--when an order came into the kitchen from the dining room, you just walked next door to the Pine Mt. General Store, got what you needed, and put it on the Saddle's account. Some very "interesting" dishes came out of that kitchen.
The original "ventilation" system for the kitchen consisted of a little exhaust fan like you would put in a normal home kitchen-- not nearly adequate for a commercial cook-top and a flat-top grille. Consequently, even in the cold months, the kitchen would get unbearably hot, even with the back door wide open to the cold. One day I walked by the open kitchen door and the "cook" was standing at the stove in his boxer shorts!
All that aside, some very good food did emerge from the kitchen on occasion. Uly Paz, a crazy, hot-tempered Filipino, made chicken adobo and duck a l'orange that were truly memorable. George Crane, who originally came from New York and New Jersey, cooked smoked pork chops, sauteed pasta, and prime rib to die for. But in reality, for those early years, neither the food nor the cocktails had to be that good, because there was virtually no competetion.
(to be continued...)
Saturday, December 8, 2012
Sins of the Fathers
When I started getting involved in the inner workings of Pine Mountain Club in the early 80's, it soon became clear that a few things were amiss. Not the administrative or political problems that plague most communities-- those are facts of life, especially in California. But Pine Mountain Club was barely in its teens, and some "cracks" were showing.
Anyone who watches reality TV has seen, or is aware of, the "flip" programs: "Flip This House", etc. Well, Pine Mountain Club was a real estate "flip". Dart Industries and Georgia-Pacific started the trend in the '60's, buying tracts of land in or near "resort" areas, making necessary improvements, and then selling the properties at a tidy profit. Tenneco did not acquire the land that became Pine Mountain Club with the primary intention of developing it. Tenneco was an OIL company, and Kern Land Company was for sale in the 60's. Kern Land Company, which came to be as a grab for water rights in the late 1800's and early 1900's, owned a vast tract of land (more than 170,000 acres) that had once been a Spanish/Mexican land grant, and had subsequently belonged to General John C. Fremont, called Rancho San Emigdio. Tenneco primarily was after the OIL that lies beneath the grassy hills to the north of us; the water rights to the land, and the 3000+ acres nearly surrounded by national forest on the southern edge, were a bonus. Tenneco knew that the likelihood of extracting oil from this particular area (PMC) was nil, but you never know. (If you check your property documents (deed), you'll see that Tenneco reserved ALL the mineral rights after the first 100 feet to themselves, and ALL the water rights to Mil Potrero Mutual Water Company.)
Tenneco managers left their mark on our community: Symonds was CEO; Askin and Freeman were VPs of Tenneco in the 60's/70's.
Anyway, Tenneco, coming somewhat late to the game, decided to get into property development. Following the "flip" concept, the plan was to buy cheap (already done), invest the minimum amount to pass inspections and have "curb appeal", and then sell getting out with a tidy quick profit. Like any good flipper, they cut corners everywhere possible, and "worked around" any unforeseen obstacles. Case in point: the original plan submitted to Kern County called for underground utilities throughout the entire project. Once excavation began, it became clear that the terrain and the size and quantity of rock where the trenches for utilities would go made it extraordinarily expensive to put underground service everywhere (cutting into their profits). There's no proof that I know of, but it's been rumored that SC Edison, (then) PacBell, and Tenneco lobbied Kern County (maybe with cash), to forego the underground requirement, except in the area immediately around the Clubhouse--the original real estate sales office. (there's your curb appeal). All three companies benefited by significantly lowering their construction costs.
Like an undertaker that gets to bury his mistakes, Tenneco cut lots of corners on drainage. Streets and lots cut across stream beds, and only the absolute minimum was done to mitigate any possible damage in the future from water flow. Drain pipes and culverts worked fine for a few years, but when the development was turned over to PMCPOA, no plans or procedures were given to the maintenance department to keep the system working as designed, so gradually those systems clogged with silt or deteriorated. The Association inherited an expensive problem that still continues to give its managers headaches, and keeps its lawyers in billable hours.
Those unforeseen hazards can have frightening consequences. A culvert and gutter up on the top of St. Bernard Drive backed up and partially washed out during an autumn rainstorm in 1989 or 1990. The rush of water flowed down the ravine for three-quarters of a mile or so, eventually ending up in a gully just above San Moritz Way. Tenneco had built the county-required catch basin to absorb and deflect just such a water flow, and to protect the homes on San Moritz Lane. But nobody knew that the catch basin needed to be cleaned out occasionally, and so it had become filled with silt and debris. The water overflowed the basin and started eroding the foundations of two of the homes below, wiping out most of their yards in the process. PMCPOA didn't cause the problem, Tenneco's poor design and lack of foresight did, but the Association (all of us) accepted the development from the Developer with all its flaws, so we were legally and financially responsible, and we paid-- attorneys, and engineers, and contractors.
The electrical system in the clubhouse was barely adequate for the original small structure, and when the building was enlarged (several times), the system was just expanded, instead of being upgraded. I once got a call from the then General Manager, Mike Duffy, that the power in the Club bar area was out, and it was New Years Eve. I'm not an electrician, but he asked me to look at it anyway and see if it was something simple (is it ever??). I found one of the bar sinks had overflowed and gotten an outlet wet, causing the breaker to trip. I turned off all the breakers for that area so the water could be cleaned up. While the crew was working, I saw some of the equipment was still on. One of the crew said there was another breaker box. After some extensive checking, and getting a real electrician to come out on the holiday, he found that TWO panels were hooked to the same circuits, so turning one off didn't cut the power! You'd think after the fire a few years earlier (caused by a faulty circuit), that nearly destroyed the entire clubhouse, SOMEBODY would have hired a licensed electrician to properly install the wiring in the clubhouse. (Note: it should ALL be up to code, now. :-\ )
Anyone who watches reality TV has seen, or is aware of, the "flip" programs: "Flip This House", etc. Well, Pine Mountain Club was a real estate "flip". Dart Industries and Georgia-Pacific started the trend in the '60's, buying tracts of land in or near "resort" areas, making necessary improvements, and then selling the properties at a tidy profit. Tenneco did not acquire the land that became Pine Mountain Club with the primary intention of developing it. Tenneco was an OIL company, and Kern Land Company was for sale in the 60's. Kern Land Company, which came to be as a grab for water rights in the late 1800's and early 1900's, owned a vast tract of land (more than 170,000 acres) that had once been a Spanish/Mexican land grant, and had subsequently belonged to General John C. Fremont, called Rancho San Emigdio. Tenneco primarily was after the OIL that lies beneath the grassy hills to the north of us; the water rights to the land, and the 3000+ acres nearly surrounded by national forest on the southern edge, were a bonus. Tenneco knew that the likelihood of extracting oil from this particular area (PMC) was nil, but you never know. (If you check your property documents (deed), you'll see that Tenneco reserved ALL the mineral rights after the first 100 feet to themselves, and ALL the water rights to Mil Potrero Mutual Water Company.)
Tenneco managers left their mark on our community: Symonds was CEO; Askin and Freeman were VPs of Tenneco in the 60's/70's.
Anyway, Tenneco, coming somewhat late to the game, decided to get into property development. Following the "flip" concept, the plan was to buy cheap (already done), invest the minimum amount to pass inspections and have "curb appeal", and then sell getting out with a tidy quick profit. Like any good flipper, they cut corners everywhere possible, and "worked around" any unforeseen obstacles. Case in point: the original plan submitted to Kern County called for underground utilities throughout the entire project. Once excavation began, it became clear that the terrain and the size and quantity of rock where the trenches for utilities would go made it extraordinarily expensive to put underground service everywhere (cutting into their profits). There's no proof that I know of, but it's been rumored that SC Edison, (then) PacBell, and Tenneco lobbied Kern County (maybe with cash), to forego the underground requirement, except in the area immediately around the Clubhouse--the original real estate sales office. (there's your curb appeal). All three companies benefited by significantly lowering their construction costs.
Like an undertaker that gets to bury his mistakes, Tenneco cut lots of corners on drainage. Streets and lots cut across stream beds, and only the absolute minimum was done to mitigate any possible damage in the future from water flow. Drain pipes and culverts worked fine for a few years, but when the development was turned over to PMCPOA, no plans or procedures were given to the maintenance department to keep the system working as designed, so gradually those systems clogged with silt or deteriorated. The Association inherited an expensive problem that still continues to give its managers headaches, and keeps its lawyers in billable hours.
Those unforeseen hazards can have frightening consequences. A culvert and gutter up on the top of St. Bernard Drive backed up and partially washed out during an autumn rainstorm in 1989 or 1990. The rush of water flowed down the ravine for three-quarters of a mile or so, eventually ending up in a gully just above San Moritz Way. Tenneco had built the county-required catch basin to absorb and deflect just such a water flow, and to protect the homes on San Moritz Lane. But nobody knew that the catch basin needed to be cleaned out occasionally, and so it had become filled with silt and debris. The water overflowed the basin and started eroding the foundations of two of the homes below, wiping out most of their yards in the process. PMCPOA didn't cause the problem, Tenneco's poor design and lack of foresight did, but the Association (all of us) accepted the development from the Developer with all its flaws, so we were legally and financially responsible, and we paid-- attorneys, and engineers, and contractors.
The electrical system in the clubhouse was barely adequate for the original small structure, and when the building was enlarged (several times), the system was just expanded, instead of being upgraded. I once got a call from the then General Manager, Mike Duffy, that the power in the Club bar area was out, and it was New Years Eve. I'm not an electrician, but he asked me to look at it anyway and see if it was something simple (is it ever??). I found one of the bar sinks had overflowed and gotten an outlet wet, causing the breaker to trip. I turned off all the breakers for that area so the water could be cleaned up. While the crew was working, I saw some of the equipment was still on. One of the crew said there was another breaker box. After some extensive checking, and getting a real electrician to come out on the holiday, he found that TWO panels were hooked to the same circuits, so turning one off didn't cut the power! You'd think after the fire a few years earlier (caused by a faulty circuit), that nearly destroyed the entire clubhouse, SOMEBODY would have hired a licensed electrician to properly install the wiring in the clubhouse. (Note: it should ALL be up to code, now. :-\ )
Friday, December 7, 2012
There's Always a First Time
Our first experience with PMC was almost 40 years ago. We rode up to Pine Mountain from the San Fernando Valley with Mike Schmidt, who had previously told us all about it. He owned a lot that he planned to build a home on some day, and he thought we should take a look. Property in PMC was a good investment then (real estate almost ANYWHERE in California was a good investment in the early 1970's!).
Mike had a Jeep CJ5, and it was a lot of fun (NOT!) riding on the old road from the freeway. When we got to the "Y", the turn-off onto Mil Potrero Highway was backed up with cars to about White Rock Road (it was spring, and there was a lot of snow on Mt. Pinos). Our first experience with snow bunnies (yippee!!). Mike took a "shortcut" through the trees around the roadblock and on to Mil Potrero (don't try this at home, kids).
Pine Mountain was as beautiful as any description I had heard. The sky was blue, the air was crystal clear, and scented with something between pineapple and vanilla (one of the "up" sides of Jeffrey or "sugar" pines---they have their "down" sides, too.) And trees, LOTS of trees.
We pulled in to Pine Mountain General Store, where we met Floyd Bolton. Floyd was an ex-LAPD who decided to trade the security of a pensioned job for the unknown future of an entrepreneur, moving his wife Pat and young boys to a tiny no-stoplight town in what almost seemed like wilderness compared to the San Fernando Valley.
At that time, the General Store was one of only three buildings in the Village (although it was commonly referred to as the "Commercial Center"; there were no signs). The other two structures were the Pine Mountain Real Estate office (a 3-room, one-story building where the Jennings Realty building, that was built over and around it) stands, and the Gold Coast Realty office, which consisted of the one-room front portion of what is now Montana Joey.
We drove by the PMC clubhouse, about a quarter of the size it is now. There were just 4 houses on Beechwood Way, near the clubhouse, and the only near structure across Mil Potrero Highway was the KCFD fire station.
We drove over to the Stables (it wasn't the Equestrian Center, then), turned around, and went up the hill on the street next to the corral. One of the only houses on the street, nestled in the pinons, belonged to Rick Young. It was early on a Saturday morning, but Rick was up working around the house. He invited us in, and asked if we would join him in a Bloody Mary. We did, and come to find out, Rick considered Bloody Mary mix to be a garnish! ;-).
Thus fortified, we went to the Pine Mountain Real Estate office (above), and met the Tidwells-- Chuck and Marge. They, along with son Tommy, sold most of the property in PMC. The commission on real estate sales, homes or empty lots, was 10 percent then. Actually, the Tidwells got ten percent of most everything then. Dave Peters owned Pine Mountain Real Estate, but the Tidwells did most of the selling
We met Fred Westlund, a local building contractor. He built many of the homes in PMC-- as many as 54 in one year! Fred never met a corny joke he wouldn't tell you. When you bought a lot from Pine Mountain Real Estate (not affiliated in any way with the current Pine Mountain Realty), the Tidwells got a 10 percent commission. They would recommend (strongly) that you have Westlund Construction build your home or cabin on that lot. They (the Tidwells)would get a ten percent commission from Westlund Construction on the construction contract. They would sometimes have to persuade Fred to cut his price to make the deal, but they still got their full commission. Thus, it happened that in one particular year Westlund Construction built over 50 homes and lost money!
Mike had a Jeep CJ5, and it was a lot of fun (NOT!) riding on the old road from the freeway. When we got to the "Y", the turn-off onto Mil Potrero Highway was backed up with cars to about White Rock Road (it was spring, and there was a lot of snow on Mt. Pinos). Our first experience with snow bunnies (yippee!!). Mike took a "shortcut" through the trees around the roadblock and on to Mil Potrero (don't try this at home, kids).
Pine Mountain was as beautiful as any description I had heard. The sky was blue, the air was crystal clear, and scented with something between pineapple and vanilla (one of the "up" sides of Jeffrey or "sugar" pines---they have their "down" sides, too.) And trees, LOTS of trees.
We pulled in to Pine Mountain General Store, where we met Floyd Bolton. Floyd was an ex-LAPD who decided to trade the security of a pensioned job for the unknown future of an entrepreneur, moving his wife Pat and young boys to a tiny no-stoplight town in what almost seemed like wilderness compared to the San Fernando Valley.
At that time, the General Store was one of only three buildings in the Village (although it was commonly referred to as the "Commercial Center"; there were no signs). The other two structures were the Pine Mountain Real Estate office (a 3-room, one-story building where the Jennings Realty building, that was built over and around it) stands, and the Gold Coast Realty office, which consisted of the one-room front portion of what is now Montana Joey.
Chuck & Marge Tidwell next to Pine Mt. Real Estate Bldg.
We drove over to the Stables (it wasn't the Equestrian Center, then), turned around, and went up the hill on the street next to the corral. One of the only houses on the street, nestled in the pinons, belonged to Rick Young. It was early on a Saturday morning, but Rick was up working around the house. He invited us in, and asked if we would join him in a Bloody Mary. We did, and come to find out, Rick considered Bloody Mary mix to be a garnish! ;-).
Thus fortified, we went to the Pine Mountain Real Estate office (above), and met the Tidwells-- Chuck and Marge. They, along with son Tommy, sold most of the property in PMC. The commission on real estate sales, homes or empty lots, was 10 percent then. Actually, the Tidwells got ten percent of most everything then. Dave Peters owned Pine Mountain Real Estate, but the Tidwells did most of the selling
We met Fred Westlund, a local building contractor. He built many of the homes in PMC-- as many as 54 in one year! Fred never met a corny joke he wouldn't tell you. When you bought a lot from Pine Mountain Real Estate (not affiliated in any way with the current Pine Mountain Realty), the Tidwells got a 10 percent commission. They would recommend (strongly) that you have Westlund Construction build your home or cabin on that lot. They (the Tidwells)would get a ten percent commission from Westlund Construction on the construction contract. They would sometimes have to persuade Fred to cut his price to make the deal, but they still got their full commission. Thus, it happened that in one particular year Westlund Construction built over 50 homes and lost money!
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