Author: punchwpadmin

Words by Andrea Gemmet

A stroll on De Sabla Road in San Mateo takes you through a tree-lined neighborhood of ranch homes with two-car garages. But as you approach the Hillsborough border, one property stands out from all the rest. Instead of a front lawn and a picket fence, the serene lines of a Japanese teahouse peek over the wooden wall, the curbside landscape of carefully placed stones and neatly trimmed shrubbery hinting at the traditional tea garden within. This piece of Peninsula history dates back to the early 1900s and is the last privately owned Japanese garden created by famed designer Makota Hagiwara that’s still in existence. After building Golden Gate Park’s popular Japanese Tea Garden, Hagiwara’s designs were in high demand at the turn of the 20th century, as wealthy Bay Area estate owners ditched formal Victorian gardens and embraced the Japanese aesthetic.

Cover Photo: Eugene Zelenko / Photo: Robb Most

The San Mateo garden got its start around 1902, when Henry Pike Bowie was inspired by his extended trip to Japan, but it really took shape after he sold it in 1906 to industrialist Eugene de Sabla, one of the founders of Pacific Gas & Electric. De Sabla brought in Hagiwara to create an elaborate one-acre garden with waterfalls, a stone Buddha statue and a bridge. As early as 1907, the San Francisco Call reported on society folk attending a “beautiful garden fête” at de Sabla’s estate, El Cerrito. The Ryoku-style teahouse, meant to evoke a rustic farmhouse, was completed around 1909. Only occasionally open to the public, the de Sabla Japanese Tea House and Tea Garden and is one of fewer than a dozen sites in San Mateo County to have earned a spot on the National Register of Historic Places.

Words and Photography by Johanna Harlow / Competition photo by Woodside Vaulters

If you happen to pass by the Woodside Vaulters’ gym, you might hear the steady clunk-clunk-clunk of Hanna Parker warming up. Sitting astride a mechanical barrel called a “movie,” which mimics a horse’s gait, this lithe young athlete swings herself into planks before scissor-kicking into handstands. Observing with a practiced eye is Krista Mack, who oversees the Woodside Vaulters program and acts as its head horse trainer. Nearby, a few horses poke their long velvety noses out of their stalls to watch and whinny.

Vaulting isn’t for the faint of heart. Think gymnastics on horseback. “A balance beam is the same every time,” notes Krista. Not so with a horse. A vaulter must adjust to each horse’s height, weight and gait. A horse’s mood can shift depending on its feeding schedule, the weather or even the full moon. Krista must be discerning in her role as lunger, guiding the horse in circles while the vaulter performs.

Growing up in Woodside, Krista has always been around equine kind. “I remember when I was little, like probably nine years old, we would ride our horses to each other’s houses—and then the horses would hang out while we had playdates,” she recalls. For sleepovers, her pony would spend the night in a guest stall. Krista has worked with the Woodside Vaulters for more than two decades now—and watched Hanna grow from a wee thing clambering around on the barrel to a serious competitor at the international level.

Hanna, a senior at Crystal Springs Uplands School, began vaulting during elementary school and coaching in 10th grade—just like her mother before her. In fact, Hanna’s mom, Isabelle Bibbler Parker, founded the Woodside Vaulters with Hanna’s grandparents and a coach from a previous club. Since 1990, their organization has taught students at walking, trotting and cantering levels (the faster and bumpier the horse, the more advanced the skills needed to stay out of the dirt). Six years after its inception, their club was already thriving, and its vaulters performed alongside the flower-covered floats at the Tournament of Roses Parade in Pasadena.

As the Woodside Vaulters continued to grow, they moved their program to the 270-acre Horse Park at Woodside. “There’s no place like the Horse Park,” Krista says. “We’re so fortunate to be here!” She notes that the ample space has allowed them to build not only two arenas, but also a combined barn and gym. This indoor area gives students a place to warm up and provides shelter for training when rain turns the outdoor ring into a giant mud puddle.

Today, the wispy, white clouds don’t threaten a downpour, so Krista heads out to the arena to warm up Salazar, Hanna’s equestrian partner for the day. After Hanna dismounts, she takes the reins of the conversation, steering the topic to the sense of family she’s found in the vaulting community. “I used to do gymnastics and it always felt like there were the little kids and there were the older kids,” she reflects.

Vaulters not only engage with other age groups, they also raise each other up. “I really enjoy now being one of those ‘big kids’ who gets to coach the little kids,” Hanna smiles. “As I was competing last year, all my little kids would come in and watch me compete. They get to cheerlead, and they get to experience what it might be like in a few years.”

A close-knit community is imperative for vaulters, especially those who pair up to compete pas de deux or with a team of six (sharing a horse in rotating groups of three). “I have always been a team or pas de deux vaulter. I love working with other people,” shares Hanna.

“I love the creativity that it takes to move in a space together.”
Hanna has difficulty describing the close bond she shares with her pas de deux partner Aria Deshpande. “I can’t describe the friendship I have with her,” she says at last. “We learned how to literally breathe together, move together, anticipate each other’s actions.” The two competed together in the Junior World Championships in Flyinge, Sweden, last year, twisting fluidly over and under each other as their horse cantered around the stadium.

Their horse is also a partner, Hanna points out. “As much as I had to learn to breathe with Aria, I’ve really had to learn how to breathe with my horse Calandra. Horses are so sensitive and they can tell when you’re breathing calmly. We did a lot of breath work last year.” Their hard work paid off, and Hanna, Aria and Calandra came in fourth at the championships. “We were .013 away from the bronze medal,” Hanna sighs, “which was a little bit frustrating—but I did get a very killer college essay out of it.”

Does she ever get nervous in the arena? At competitions, sure—but from being on horseback, never. “I do have to work through fears and nerves, but it’s not about being on the horse. That is comfortable to me,” Hanna says. “I could take a nap on a horse any day.”

She explains that the club has taught her horsemanship as much as vaulting. All students are instructed in horse handling as well as grooming, feeding and safety. “If you swim, you don’t hop out of the pool and then go give it a hug,” Hanna jokes. But horses require care—and a showering of kisses. “I never just leave after practice.”

Right before Hanna steps into the arena, she makes a confession. “I don’t ride,” she divulges. Sure, she can stand on a horse’s back or swivel her legs about with acrobatic ease—but only going in circles. “If you told me I needed to ride a horse from point A to point B, I could probably manage it,” she laughs. “I’m hoping I can start to learn.”

horse play – woodsidevaulters.org

VAULTING THROUGH THE AGES 

Vaulting dates back to ancient Roman times and also has ties to bull-leaping in ancient Crete, but the sport reached the United States much more recently. After watching vaulters in Germany in the 1950s, Elizabeth Searle introduced it to her pony club in Santa Cruz County. Northern California has been a hub for the sport ever since. Equestrian vaulting will make its debut at the 2032 Olympic Games in Brisbane, Australia.

Photography and words by Bob Siegel

Bound by gravity, humans spend most of their lives in a two-dimensional world defined by the surface of the earth. Not surprisingly, people have always had a fascination with the world of winged creatures who can take to the air at a moment’s notice, adding a vast third dimension to their domain. From angels to airplanes, humans have long imaged what it would be like to take flight.

Cover Photo: Even when our winged friends come to rest, there is no assurance they will linger, especially when approached by a curious onlooker or an eager photographer. Here with its intense gaze and bright red gorget, an Anna’s hummingbird stares down the photographer.

The American white pelican, seen here in breeding plumage, is one of the largest birds of North America—far bigger than its cousin the brown pelican. Found throughout most of the U.S. and Mexico, the white pelican can often be spotted along the Peninsula wetlands bordering the bay. The protuberance on its upper bills signals that this is a breed adult.

Although I have never had one land on my shoulder, the presence of the Western bluebird is uplifting. Found year-round in the Bay Area, Western bluebirds seem largely unperturbed by the presence of humans and will often pose for a photo. Males are more brightly colored than females. Like American robins, Western bluebirds are members of the thrush family.

The ubiquitous Asian lady beetle is the fourth most frequently photographed creature on iNaturalist with over a quarter of a million images. As the name implies, this lady beetle is an exotic species and a highly successful invader on the Peninsula. Like many lady beetles, its bright orange and black coloration advertises its presence with the implied warning: “Do not mess with me.” The use of common colors among noxious species is known as Müllerian mimicry.

The barn swallow has the distinction of being the most widespread perching bird in the world. Because of its fast and erratic behavior, the possibility of catching a swallow in flight requires a combination of patience and luck. And it certainly doesn’t hurt to have the right equipment. Barn swallows can also be seen lined up on wires or peering from mud nests in the overhang of buildings and other structures.

As spring rolls around, the blue-eyed darner can be spotted in the wetlands of the Peninsula. Like many dragonflies, this darner provides a number of gifts to the avid photographer: bright colors make them easy to spot and visually appealing, they often return to the same perch (even when they initially flee from intruders) and they periodically hover in midair, as if inviting pictures.

Unlike many owls, the burrowing owl is diurnal, making it much easier to photograph—if you can find it. Standing very still and camouflaged by earthy backgrounds, they are easy to overlook—until you catch a glimpse of those piercing yellow eyes. Highly attentive to aerial predators, when their gaze turns upward, you can often spot a hawk flying overhead.

In addition to being a microbiology and immunology professor at Stanford, Palo Alto’s Robert David Siegel is a docent and avid wildlife photographer who teaches courses in photographing nature. web.stanford.edu/~siegelr/photo.html

The self-described “dog sherpa” from Menlo Park talks about her big career change, the time a pooch came to her rescue and how she wrangles the pack.

What inspired the switch from teaching to dog walking?
I developed a neurological condition called Spasmodic Dysphonia, which caused my vocal cords to spasm. Over the course of 10 years, I slowly lost the use of my voice and can only whisper now. I started out by doing group walks and now offer off-leash group outings for my business, Whole New Pooch.

How do you communicate with the pack?
I use hand signals, body language and a whistle. Dogs prefer visual signals to auditory cues anyway.

What’s the car situation like with all those puppy passengers?
I have mats, pads and towels everywhere!

What’s guaranteed to make you laugh?
A carefree, goofball dog who is running free and living his best life. Silliness! Physical comedy!

Do you have any phobias?
Not doing something because I’m afraid.

What’s a wild story from the job?
Early on, I got lost on a pack walk in the redwoods. After about an hour of tramping around the mountain, I turned to a Labrador and whispered, “Henry, take us home!” Within 10 minutes we were back at the car.

How many pets do you currently have?
I have zero pets. My husband is allergic to dogs!

What’s a gift you received that you’ll never forget?
My mother bought me an SLR camera when I was a young teen. Recently, I launched my own phoDOGraphy business and set up a studio in my garage.

How do you handle dogs showing aggression?
I am a big advocate of positive reinforcement. The whole alpha dog training movement was based on wolf observations, which dogs are not. I want dogs to come to me for support, not because they fear me.

Growing up, what was your favorite children’s book?
The Velveteen Rabbit.

What’s an interesting fact about you that surprises people?
Having vocal issues is an advantage, not a hindrance. The dogs (and my kids) are much more responsive to a calm demeanor. I am less able to self-escalate now.

What dog breed most resembles your personality?
Maybe a flat-coated retriever. I like to be busy and have a job, but I’m pretty easygoing.

What’s the wildest thing you’ve ever done at work?
When I was still doing group leash walks, I continued to take out the dogs after I broke my foot and needed a knee scooter. I’d have them all on leash in front of me like Santa with his sleigh.

What work task do you look forward to the most?
Releasing the hounds!!

Words by Dylan Lanier

Menlo Park’s Sharon Heights is one of many charming Peninsula neighborhoods created by carving up a sprawling country estate. Its origins are somewhat less idyllic than its current contours might suggest. The money for the Sharon Estate came from the notorious Gilded Age mining tycoon William Sharon. Elected to represent Nevada, William was deemed one of history’s worst U.S. senators due to his reluctance to actually travel to the Capitol and participate. His busy love life was the subject of a scandalous lawsuit brought by his mistress and breathlessly reported on in the newspapers. William’s son and heir Frederick enjoyed San Francisco high society with his wife Louise Breckinridge before the couple relocated to Paris for almost 20 years, where they developed a taste for the era’s pick-me-up of choice: cocaine.

Returning to the City after the Great Earthquake of 1906, Fredrick hastened to join his elite peers and develop a luxurious weekend retreat. He hired New York architect George Kelham to design the ultimate country estate on 600 acres in what is now West Menlo Park. The Sharon Estate’s redwood-shingled “cottage”—a precursor to the planned main house—boasted lavish gardens, tapestries from Europe, an elegant ballroom and eight butlers, according to Menlo Park: Beyond the Gate. Frederick’s cocaine addiction probably contributed to his untimely death in 1915 at age 56, dooming plans for the main house, which was never built. After Louise’s death, the sprawling estate was eventually sold. In 1957, developers Duncan McDonald and Mark Radin conceived a plan to subdivide the property into a residential community, complete with a shopping center and a park surrounding an artificial lake. So if you find yourself strolling through the peaceful streets of Sharon Heights, consider its opulent early days and the Nevada silver mines that funded its transformation from rolling countryside to a playground for San Francisco’s elite.

You know how some dogs have such an amazing sense of direction that they can find their way home, even if they get lost hundreds of miles away? When they show up months later, people say, “What a smart dog!” I, too, have an incredible mental map of my own, but I credit my stomach more than my brain. Without fail, I can guide my human family (whether they like it or not) to the most delicious locations in Menlo Park and Palo Alto. That nice house with the dog treats near Draeger’s Market? Check. The Ace Hardware in Palo Alto that thoughtfully provides fallen popcorn? Check. And my favorite place of all, Mademoiselle Colette, which has the most scrumptious croissants? Check. I like to start my food-finding missions early. My humans don’t need to bother with annoying alarms, because I helpfully bop them on the head with my paw well ahead of time, to let them know the sun is up and I’m ready to scour the streets for yummy treats. You might even call me a connoisseur, although I am not so snooty that I won’t help clean the floor beneath my baby brother when he eats. Anything for family!

Calling All Dogs: If you've got quirky habits or a funny tale (or tail) to share, email your story to hello@punchmonthly.com for a chance to share a page from your Diary of a Dog in PUNCH.

Words by Johanna Harlow

If you’ve ever watched motorsports, you may have pictured yourself behind the wheel of a sleek, sexy stock car, effortlessly cruising the track’s turns. Not so fast. It might look like a breeze, but NASCAR racing drivers like 19-year-old Jesse Love know better.

“Nothing’s more physically exerting than running a full race on a really hot day,” the Menlo Park native acknowledges. “It’s hell on your body.” These speed machines can match the G-force that astronauts experience during liftoff. And then there’s the heat factor. The temperature in a car can easily soar to 120 degrees Fahrenheit—170 degrees by the floorboards. Drivers commonly lose 5 to 10 pounds in sweat during a race. Now imagine trying to make split-second decisions at 200 MPH, over several hours. It’s why Jesse starts each day with heat tolerance training, welcoming the morning at 5AM with cardio and weights in a sweltering 120-degree room.

While other kids played with Hot Wheels and Matchbox toy cars, Jesse took the driver’s seat early. As a kindergartner, he recalls hanging out at a Mountain View race shop with his Uncle Tony, whose two daughters raced in quarter midgets (think go-karts but with four-wheel suspension). “Then I got into Antonia’s purple quarter midget,” Jesse recalls. That was all it took. After winning his very first quarter midgets race at the wee age of five, Jesse continued competing—racking up countless wins, including multiple state and national titles, all before he reached age 10.

Then Jesse started strapping into stock cars. Full-throttle ahead, he moved to North Carolina at 15 to further his career, that same year dominating in the ARCA Menards Series and becoming the youngest driver to win a title. He now competes full-time in the NASCAR Xfinity Series and drives the No. 2 Whelen Chevrolet for Richard Childress Racing.

Though racing may be physically taxing, Jesse estimates it’s only 30% of the battle. “There’s a lot of pressure involved,” he shares, mentioning that one of his mental coaches, Akshay Nanavati, is a Marine veteran—and the first polar explorer to undergo a solo sea-to-sea ski crossing of Antarctica with no sled or dogs.

Jesse must be bold on the track, taking calculated risks, managing stressors and reacting to the unexpected. He must dart into narrow gaps with the kiss of a bumper—because even a moment’s hesitation will close that window of opportunity. He must also make peace with crashing, which in motorsports isn’t an “if,” but a “when.” “I’ve flipped probably a dozen times,” estimates Jesse, adding with a note of neutrality, “The flips don’t always hurt the worst because stuff’s flying off your car, and you’re dispersing energy.” Hitting dead on the wall is more brutal on your body—even with the car’s head-and-neck restraints. “I wreck a lot less now than I did then when I was trying not to wreck,” he reflects. “You just kind of get in a zone.” And when the inevitable happens? “You just hop on out and live to race another day.”

A strong Christian, Jesse credits a faith-driven frame of mind for keeping him grounded in the wake of national recognition. “I’m racing for someone bigger than me,” he shares. “Being connected with God and treating people the same, whether they’re from Park Avenue or a park bench.”

He also cites his father as a strong influence. Jesshill “Duke” Love drove in quarter midgets himself in his youth, competing alongside his racing pal Jeff Gordon. Though he later pursued a career in law in Redwood City rather than continuing down the racetrack, Duke shaped his son’s integrity and driving style. “You change a lot,” Jesse reflects of his racing approach, “but your core values of how you’re going to race, how you’re going to let people race you, what your driving style is, what kind of car (tight, loose, however that is)… how I like to drive now was ingrained in me when I was raised by my dad.” He follows up, adding, “The most important advice that my dad gives me has nothing to do with racing at all. It’s all about life.”

Whenever he can, Jesse tries to spend time at the shop where mechanics disassemble, replace, install and adjust every part of his car. “I’m a big believer in being available and showing people that I care,” he says. “I want my guys at the shop to know that I’m gonna work really hard for them. And when that happens, they’re gonna work harder for me as well.” It takes a village to raise up a racing driver and Jesse’s crew chief, car chief, shock, engine and tire specialists, engineers, shop team and pit crew keep him on track.

With a racing nickname like The Hammer, it’s unsurprising that Jesse takes such a dogged approach to growth. “There’s a million things that you can do to just move the needle 1% forward,” he says. If that means poring over data, working with the simulator, attending countless pre-race meetings or watching 16 hours of film from Daytona until his eyes fatigue, so be it. “Even if you look at five hours of data and you find one thing that can help you go faster, we would all give our right thumb to find a tenth of a second,” Jesse states.

“I’ve qualified by a thousandth of a second—and I’ve been beaten by a thousandth of a second.” The young driver’s gaze drifts as his thoughts turn to the road. In his mind’s eye, he’s already hugging the turns and zipping down the straightaways of his next race. “I try not to focus on what any other driver does,” he shares. “I try to just focus on what I did today and what I can do tomorrow that was better than today.”

As a purebred Whippet, the breed with the fastest acceleration, you think I’d be in too much of a hurry to get to know you, but really, I’m happy to meet just about everyone. There’s a cute little kink in my tail that kept me from competing in dog shows, but my sweet personality won over Steve and Cheryl, who adopted me as a companion for their older Italian greyhounds. Thanks to my gentle disposition, they soon got me certified as a therapy dog. Now I get to meet all sorts of new people while visiting high schools and nursing homes. When I go to libraries, children like to practice reading books to me while I listen patiently. When I’m not working, I like to sit on the sofa and request that someone join me for a good snuggle. (I’ll admit, there may be whining involved.) And if someone’s in bed, I will be right there with them, to make sure they don’t get lonely. Cheryl says I sleep in the craziest positions, but I’ll have to take her word for it. I suppose there might be some photographic evidence on my Instagram: @josiejowhippetgirl. That’s not to say I’m lazy. I vigorously protect my home in San Mateo from squirrels. My speedy lineage mostly comes out when it’s mealtime. I zoom and ricochet all over while my food is prepared. But once I’ve eaten, I’m ready to relax and cuddle again.

Calling All Dogs: If you've got quirky habits or a funny tale (or tail) to share, email your story to hello@punchmonthly.com for a chance to share a page from your Diary of a Dog in PUNCH.

Words by Johanna Harlow

Interested in a little magic? Robert Strong poses this question to a table of strangers at a restaurant. They assess this newcomer a moment before slowly giving their consent. But as Robert holds out a wad of cash, turning Washingtons into Benjamins, they uncross their arms and lean in. By the time he’s started making cards disappear, the wariness has melted into warmth. He leaves the table having gained a few new friends.

“Magic changes people,” Robert observes as he moves away. “They behave like nine-year-olds who’ve just discovered that there really is magic in the world. I love that change: from being skeptical, ‘Why would I want to watch this?’ to, ‘You gotta see what I saw!’”

Robert has lit up audiences in all 50 states and 45 countries. “Kids’ birthday parties, schools, fairs, festivals, colleges, universities, comedy clubs, cruise ships,” he ticks off on his fingers. What’s more, he’s appeared on Penn & Teller: Fool Us, given a TED Talk, served as an artist in residence for the Smithsonian and carved out a niche for himself performing at Fortune 500 companies.

He’s even performed for two presidents. “Very different,” Robert chuckles of his two visits to the White House. “For George Bush Sr., they took apart all my stuff, put it through the X-ray machine, searched under my car—and for Bill Clinton, they’re like, ‘Oh, you check the missiles at the next gate. Just kidding. Come on in!’”

Robert’s first encounter with magic occurred at the age of 12 when a street performer’s act held him spellbound. “Time stood still. It was like, ‘This is the thing,’” Robert recalls. “A switch flipped in my brain. I said, ‘That’s what I want to do.’” On a mission, Robert learned his first few tricks from a podiatrist who shared an office building with his father, then improved his sleight of hand at Tannen’s Magic Camp. “Every waking hour was reading and studying and training.”

Then came his first gig. “It was a kid’s birthday party, walking distance from my house,” Robert reminisces. “It was a 10-minute show and I got paid $10. I was like, ‘A dollar a minute? This is it!’ I took that $10, bought another magic trick and kept going.” These days, youthful audiences aren’t his focus. “You don’t have to win them over,” he shrugs. There’s something more gratifying about converting adults from cynics into believers.

As Robert developed as a performer, he took up improv comedy. He recalls a particularly memorable evening sharing the stage with the late Robin Williams. Of everyone performing, “I was by far the youngest and least experienced,” he recalls. So he asked the other entertainers if they’d like to warm up first by spitballing about current events and pop culture. All but one said no. “Robin Williams, who was in person very soft-spoken and gentle, very thoughtful, he said, ‘I’d like to warm up.’” Everyone changed their tune and joined in. “He took care of everybody! I learned so much from him.”

As Robert looks back on his journey, he reflects, “I used to love the trick. Then I loved the laughter. Then I fell in love with the fact that, with magic, you get connection.” He credits his success to taking an audience-first approach and avoiding one-size-fits-all routines. “The thing that differentiates me from other magicians is not the tricks, not the pickpocketing, not the juggling. It’s that I really personalize the experience,” he concludes. “That’s become my calling card.”

For the past two decades, he’s brought that talent to corporate gigs. It starts with doing a 20-minute culture interview in advance of every performance. “I ask things like: What’s unique about your company? What are your goals? Who’s your competition?… What’s funny about your company? What is the gossip at the water cooler that everyone likes to complain about?” If the head of the company is known to pop up unexpectedly, Robert has the CEO appear during his show. If everyone drinks LaCroix, or the corporate softball team gets a tad too competitive, he’ll weave in a joke about it. “The illusions that I create are never the same,” he says. “I want them to ask, ‘Does he actually work here?’”

It’s also Robert’s job as CMO (“Chief Magic Officer,” he jokes) to inspire business teams. “If you want to create a culture or an experience for a customer that feels like magic, you do a lot of work that’s invisible,” he explains. “I give examples of magic tricks that I perform that take a lot of prep work that you don’t see. When it works, it feels like magic. It’s instant. You don’t see the thousands of hours that went into getting it right.”

He shares this lesson and others in his book Amaze & Delight: Secrets to Creating Magic in Business (“And it should be ‘and Life, Too,’” Robert comments). He co-wrote it with David Martinez, a former marketing professional who quit his job at Apple to become a full-time magician.

“Magicians will see things from other people’s points of view, put themselves in their perspective,” Robert says of his empathetic approach to magic. “The high you get, the hit that you get from entertaining other people, bringing joy to other people, will be more than what they receive.”

To watch Robert work his magic at The Guild in Menlo Park or other venues around the Bay Area, check out his website: strongentertainment.com

Words by Dylan Lanier

The Folger family may be best known for its popular brand of instant coffee, but it developed a more elegant kind of “grounds” in Woodside. In 1902, the eldest son of Folgers Coffee’s founder, James Folger II, purchased 1,500 acres in Woodside for a summer estate. He was one of many prosperous San Franciscans who built elaborate second homes on the lower Peninsula where they would spend summers enjoying the warm, sunny weather. While opulent mansions were abundant in those days, his remarkable horse stable set the Folger estate apart from the rest of the herd. Designed by Arthur French Brown Jr. in French baroque style, the original building featured 16 tie-stalls, a carriage room, living quarters—and some say it was even outfitted with chandeliers and a marble fireplace.

In 1955, the Folgers sold 940 acres to Martin and Muriel Wunderlich, who used the stable to board their horses until they donated the entire property to the County of San Mateo 19 years later, creating Wunderlich Park. While years of deferred maintenance took its toll, the down-on-its-luck stable got new life thanks to a $3.3 million renovation project in 2010. Now the Folger stable serves as a public boarding facility, and enthusiastic equestrians take their horses over to the riding ring or up along the surrounding trails, which are also popular with hikers. The main house is gone, but the stable, along with the carriage house, blacksmith barn, dairy house and stone walls, form the Folger Historic District, which was added to the National Register of Historic Places in 2004. So fuel up with a cup of coffee and spend some time in a world of shiny saddles, stirrups and tree-lined trails, right off of Woodside Road.

Words by Johanna Harlow

It’s a gallery dedicated to the art of steel. Enter Perfect Edge Cutlery in San Mateo—a knife and sharpening shop—and behold Baldwin Blades with birch, maple and walnut handles. Meglio metal etched with swirling Mayan symbols and coiling sirens. Damascus steel with layers rippled like tree rings. Here, even the less flashy knives assume masterful shape and form. Unwielded, these functional beauties await the call to action on the cutting board.

“Our job is to know everything about every one of these knives,” says Tara Ransfer, a self-proclaimed knife nerd who runs the business with her father, Mike Solaegui. From Messermeister to Miyabi, Kai to Kikuichi, Tara knows them all.

Mike’s interest lies in the sharpening side of the business, in returning blades to their intended purpose of slicing and dicing at a rapid staccato beat. He offers this service at the shop—evident in the whir of the sharpening blade in the back room—but also takes out their mobile truck, making rounds to restaurants ranging from mom-and-pop to Michelin-starred. They’ve serviced Google’s numerous campus cafes, the Michelin-darling French Laundry in Yountville, Madera in Menlo Park, and many a Marriott and Hyatt hotel kitchen, among countless others.

And with the motto, “If it has an edge, we can do it,” they hone more than knives, caring for the blades of immersion blenders, kitchen shears and food processors. “They need somebody they trust to do a good job. That’s us,” Mike states. Tara nods her agreement, “Knife sharpening is a skill the same way learning to cook is a skill.” By both sharpening and selling knives, the duo has gained a deeper understanding of this kitchen essential. “Neither one tells the full story,” continues Tara. “If the heat treatment is off with one of the knives, sharpening will tell you which one.”

Mike, once a butcher like his father, understands the value of an effective tool. “My grandfather was the first person who set me up with a tri-stone sharpener to just mess around with,” Tara recollects of her after-school visits to the meat shop.

Now celebrating Perfect Edge’s 30th anniversary, father and daughter continue to steer customers to the right knife through a series of questions. After all, the two-inch paring knife, while great for peeling apples, isn’t up to fileting hefty tuna like the three-foot maguro bōchō blade. “We want to know what you’re going to cut on,” Tara notes, “what you’re going to use the knives on, how much maintenance you’re going to want to do, how much experience you have in using knives.”

Your answers might very well determine where your knife originates. Always on the cutting edge, Mike and Tara’s business became one of the first to sell game-changing Japanese cutlery in the Bay Area. This was back in ‘98, when German knives reigned. “I think it’s fair to say that the Japanese knives were coming in sharper than the German and American-made knives,” Mike says. “It’s harder and more flexible, so you can make it thinner.” Later, celebrity chef Rachael Ray popularized Japanese knives by brandishing her favorite santoku on 30 Minute Meals. “Every time she would talk about it on her show, we would sell 24 or more that week—easily,” Tara recalls.

That doesn’t mean everyone should get one. If you’re used to manhandling your blades, you’d be best served with something more durable. Tara holds up a supple santoku. “You get that in a bone—even on the woody stem of a piece of rosemary—hit that just wrong, and you can chip that edge.” She indicates a German chef’s knife. “This is a little more forgiving in the average person’s hands.” American manufacturers are also stepping up their game of late. “One is not better than the other,” Tara stresses, adding, “Picking the right one for its purpose is ultimately going to give you the best result.”

They also need to know if you’re looking for a reliable workhorse or the luxury experience. “You’ll hear a lot of analogies with cars when knife people talk,” Tara chuckles. Mike points out a Dragon Storm santoku: “Toyota Camry.” Then indicates the wider blade of a Running Man Forge bunka: “Porsche.” “If you want to go four-wheeling, you’re not going to select a Ferrari to do that,” Tara reasons.

With authority forged from decades in the field, the duo also brings their own knives to the table. Like their Dragon series, a line tailored for home cooks and professional chefs alike that blends Japanese and European knife-making traditions. “We design it, we spec it, we pick all the materials, we do the prototype,” Mike explains. “Then we approve the manufacturer’s preliminary production, make corrections, approve it.”

They’ve also carefully considered cost, ensuring their designs are not only aesthetically pleasing, but also affordable for professional chefs. Tara cocks her head at a gyuto chef’s knife with a resplendent redwood handle. “They won’t be beating that up in a 12-hour shift on the line, you know?” That’s why she and Mike tasked themselves with finding an answer to the question: “How much of a knife can we give them for under $200?”

And the pros came. Tara recalls the time the head chef at the Ritz Carlton called at 10:30 in the evening to ask if he could bring over his pal, celebrity chef Anthony Bourdain, for some late-night shopping. “So yes, I had intoxicated chefs in the store after hours,” she laughs.

Back in the day-to-day bustle of the shop, the afternoon sunlight hits the room—and everything glows. Mike and Tara look content among the bristling shelves. “I can have hours-long conversations about nothing but knives,” Tara declares.

Fun Fact: “Almost all culinary knives descend from weaponry,” notes Tara. Take Japan’s Kikuichi Cutlery, which originated from a 13th-century swordsmith, supplying Nara’s warrior monks with samurai blades. Think about that the next time you’re doing battle with an obstinate pineapple.

chop chop! – perfectedgecutlery.com

Words by Sheri Baer

Sheltered by a lush canopy of stately redwood and fragrant bay laurel trees, the gently curving block presents like a storybook oasis in Menlo Park. Slowing your roll comes naturally here—whether you’re walking a dog, pushing a stroller or pausing for a chat. Not surprisingly, when a highly-accomplished couple came across a charming single-level home for sale, they recognized an idyllic setting for raising a family.

Within the passing of a decade, their footprint expanded to include three school-aged children and a dog. What didn’t change was this couple’s devotion to their picturesque neighborhood. When a property two doors down (and nearly double the lot size) serendipitously went on the market, they seized the opportunity to build their dream house—on the street of their dreams.

“They were very organized in how they chose their team and the process,” describes Linda Sullivan, the principal of Sullivan Design Studio (SDS), who initially met with the couple in September 2019. Working with a project manager, the Menlo Park clients ultimately tapped SDS, CKA Architects, Wescott Construction and Keith Willig Landscape—all based in Menlo Park. “It coincidentally turned out to be a local venture,” notes Linda. “Something about this project felt very personal and special, and the teamwork was incredible.”

Over the next three and a half years, as their kids shot hoops just a curve in the road away, their future home emerged from the ground up. Although much larger—three stories and nearly 12,000 square feet—the new structure folded seamlessly into the tranquil scenery around it. “Quiet luxury” is Linda’s descriptive catchphrase. “They had a clear vision and trusted us on the design,” she explains. “The design mimics their personalities. They’re very understated, humble people, so the design isn’t loud, yet it’s still very detailed and the materials are very luxurious and specific to each space.”

Attracted to European style, the couple also wanted to honor the family’s Asian heritage, which is reflected in the architecture and carried into the interiors. SDS senior designer Yoko Kato appreciated the challenge—and the way the blended influences ultimately delivered the desired effect. “You have to capture the essence, not so much the specific elements,” she says. “You have to study really hard to see what works together. We mixed the styles and then put them in a modern way.”

Step into the home, and that’s immediately conveyed. A defining feature in the front entry is custom wood paneling, laser-cut in the shape of the client’s Japanese family crest, or kamon. “She had a kimono with the family symbol,” says Yoko, “and we incorporated that motif into the screens in the entry hall.”

Another priority: durable and highly livable spaces. “They didn’t want a room that was hands-off; every room is conducive to having kids around,” Yoko says. “They wanted each room to have a specific vision but then we needed to make it cohesive.” To achieve that goal, the design team leaned into the use of color and wall coverings, including nature-related themes such as leafy patterns as well as beach, mountain and water elements. “They weren’t afraid of having a lot of colors and texture and patterns in a room,” relays Yoko, “but the overall palette is a muted, very soft pastel color.”

In the dining room, the wallpaper evokes a water or mountain feeling—in a color that’s also soft and serene. The design team proposed an “amazing” light fixture, which they felt grounded the space. The homeowners agreed. “They loved it,” recounts Linda. “It has that earthy element but very light and natural—it felt a lot like them.” The furniture reflects a more simple, European style. “We wanted to highlight the light fixture as a focal element,” she adds. “Everything else works as a backdrop.”

The soft palette extends from the dining area into the living room, a two-story-high space featuring a grand piano with a balcony above. “This room has so many different elements but the fireplace is a focal point,” says Yoko. “We didn’t want to make it too loud because there are so many furniture pieces and the room itself is already impressive.”

The primary bedroom also evokes serenity and calm: flowing, soft drapery, a floral-patterned wall covering, a comfy window seat overlooking the backyard with San Francisquito Creek just beyond. “The bedroom has a lot of pattern but then the color itself is very muted and feels comfortable and cozy,” Yoko says.

When move-in day arrived, there was no need for sad goodbyes. The family’s favorite winding street—albeit a different address—once again welcomed them home. The in-laws settled into the old house, creating easy back-and-forth access for grandparent time. And whether they’re enjoying a backyard barbecue, a piano recital in the living room or ping-pong in the basement, “It comes down to quiet luxury,” Yoko summarizes. “Everything is toned down and relaxed.”

DREAM TEAM

cka-architects.com 
sullivandesignstudio.com 
wescottconstruction.org 
keithwilliglandscape.com
michaelwaltersstyle.com

Words by Johanna Harlow

There’s a significant amount of abstraction in flying—after all, you’re hurtling through the air in a metal tube at 30,000 feet. The familiar landscape becomes a surreal patchwork of shapes and colors through that plane window, a little like a massive, earthy quilt. Artist Linda Gass captures that feeling in her map-like “stitched paintings,” textile artworks that contemplate water and land-use issues in California and the American West.

Though the Los Altos local also works with glass, Linda has an obvious soft spot for textiles. “They tend to have a comforting feeling to them,” she describes. “We’re used to wrapping ourselves in them. We sleep under them.” Her intricate designs are fashioned by drawing with the sewing machine, guiding the fabric with her hands while controlling the speed of the needle. Averaging a mile’s worth of thread per year, tiny stitches coalesce into textured patterns that reflect the environment—rolling grasslands curve and loop, rows of crops form neat lines, rivers and oceans coil and ripple.

The highlight is the water, not just in texture but in color. Through silk painting, Linda commingles an ever-changing blend of aquamarine and turquoise, cyan and seafoam. She traces her aquatic interest back to her mother. Linda recalls her mom warning that if she didn’t finish her salad, it would rain the next day (a superstition from her mother’s own childhood in stormy Luxembourg). But the threat didn’t carry the same weight in Los Angeles, with its stubborn lack of rain. “We have all these lush green lawns and swimming pools,” Linda remembers thinking. “If it doesn’t rain here, where does our water come from? I had no idea. You know…it comes from the tap!” Later, she was shocked to learn that none of LA’s water came from local sources.

Linda’s enthusiasm for maps also started at a young age. The artist’s face softens with nostalgia when she speaks of hours spent whirling her Rand McNally globe. “I’d play this game where I’d spin the globe, and I’d close my eyes and put my finger on it, just to see where it landed,” she smiles. “Mostly, it landed in the ocean because it’s mostly water. Which also left this big impression on me of how much of our planet is water. It was this process of discovery.”

As a student at Stanford University, Linda cultivated her interest in sustainable living. “I lived in a co-op house where we ate vegetarian,” she notes. “We did recycling, we didn’t use paper napkins with our dinners, we baked our own bread and granola…all those good hippie things!” Today, her advocacy-fueled artwork has been shown at Institute and Museum of California Art, and the Oakland Museum of California. It features in publications like American Craft, Bay Nature and KQED Arts as well as a National Geographic publication on unusual maps. One is even on the cover of an environmental science textbook.

One of Linda’s favorite pieces, included in a solo show at the Museum of Craft and Design, is also a very personal piece. The stitched painting, Severely Burned, reveals the crippling damage of the Rim Fire in the Tuolumne River Watershed through an artistically rendered vegetation burn map. Linda has regularly visited and backpacked in Yosemite National Park dating back to eighth grade, when a week-long class trip taught her to appreciate the area’s ecosystem, from its plants and animals to the glaciers that carved its valley.

And she witnessed the fire in person. “There was this cloud—like one I’d never seen before,” Linda says, recalling the unsettling horizon she saw out the bus window. “It was this cauliflower in the sky. It was not a rain cloud. And the underside of it…the whole cloud was gray. There was no white.” The fire burned so hot it had created its own weather, condensing the moisture from the atmosphere into an unnerving pyrocumulus cloud. Linda vividly recollects the flurry of ash later falling like snowflakes, some crusting on her camera’s zoom lens.

Although her work wades through some harsh realities, Linda takes a surprisingly gentle approach. “I use the lure of beauty to look at the hard environmental issues we face—rather than make artwork that may be more ugly, like the subject matter that I’m dealing with, that people might not want to look at. Or live with.” Visually pleasing images make unappetizing truths a little more palatable. “Otherwise, they might want to stick their heads in the sand because it’s overwhelming.”

It’s an artistic choice that reveals her hopes for the restoration of natural beauty. Catching a bird’s-eye view with Linda reminds us to aim higher and choose to thoughfully steward the planet we all inhabit.

Common threads – lindagass.com

Words by Johanna Harlow

While more compact than the Smithsonian’s sprawling National Air and Space Museum, the Hiller Aviation Museum in San Carlos comes alive with more than 50 aircraft and spacecraft. Within its hangar, gliders, helicopters and airplanes are parked in careful rows. Others hang from the ceiling—the tilt of their wings suggesting that, any moment now, they’ll plunge into a series of swoops and spins. This flight of fancy is fueled by the drone of planes taking off and touching down at the San Carlos Airport next door.

“We focus on California’s contributions to aviation—the Bay Area in particular,” explains Jon Welte, Hiller’s president and CEO since last May. “We connect people to advances in aviation that have happened right here.” The museum features replicas and real aircraft from the 1860s to the present day, but World War II is one era you won’t find represented much. “That’s just not our main theme,” says Jon, pointing out aircraft from that time tend to be on the heftier side and he’s perfectly happy not to have to find space for them. “There are other museums that tell that story, and tell that story very, very well.”

If you’d like to learn about the origins of flight and daring pilots, drones and other aeronautic innovations, this is the place. The collection’s large planes will leave you adequately awestruck—especially the Boeing 747 and the first Grumman Albatross to have flown a single-purpose mission to circumnavigate the globe. You’ll also stand in the shadow of the massive jet-black Boeing Condor, with a wingspan longer than an Olympic-sized pool.

A lofty collection like this one doesn’t happen without someone extraordinary. In 1998, the museum took off under the guidance of Stanley Hiller Jr., who founded Hiller Aircraft Corporation in 1942. As Jon enters the hangar, his first stop is a replica of the aviation entrepreneur’s canary yellow XH-44 “Hiller-Copter.” “This was his first helicopter. He built it in an auto repair shop in Oakland,” Jon says, adding, “He was the first test pilot for most of his aircraft, starting with the XH-44. So he designed it, he helped build it and he flew the thing.” And at the age of 18! Hiller’s career took off from there. “The factory that he set up in the late 1940s was located on Willow Road down in what, today, is Menlo Park—quite close to the Facebook campus.”

The ’40s to the ’60s gave rise to some delightfully odd contraptions housed nearby. These include the questionable rotorcycle, a “foldable helicopter” that’s little more than a seat attached to rotor blades, and the madcap Hiller Flying Platform, “the closest design to mimic a magic carpet.” There’s also the Hiller Hornet, with ramjet engines mounted to its blade tips. “This works almost like a Fourth of July pinwheel,” quips Jon.

But Jon’s favorite historic aircraft is the Travel Air found in the Women in Aviation section. It belonged to Louise McPhetridge Thaden, a contemporary of Amelia Earhart. Jon maintains that Louise was the more accomplished of the two. “She needs more attention,” insists Jon, a pilot himself who started flying at 13. “I think if you look at the races that they both competed in and the various records that they each set, Louise Thaden was the more successful pilot—but she wasn’t married to a publicist, so her story wasn’t put out quite as well.” In fact, she set an endurance record in this very plane in 1929. “A truck would drive along underneath them and match them and then they would take fuel up to refuel the aircraft!”

The aviation museum recently marked its own big milestone. “We just celebrated our two millionth visitor coming through the doors,” cheers Jon. He adds that Hiller sees roughly 120,000 visitors per year, with around 10,000 of them coming with school field trips.

The museum offers plenty of hands-on experiences for its young visitors. They can crawl into cockpits, toss parachuters into a miniature wind tunnel, work on engineering and design projects at the Invention Lab or operate quadcopters at the netted Droneplex. On weekends, they can also test their mettle at the Flight Sim Zone, where many a Boy Scout has earned an aviation badge. Under the instruction of real pilots, aspiring aviators take a virtual flight across the Bay, learning to navigate and land their aircraft with rudder pedals, yoke and throttle.

For those who want to make their mark on a plane—quite literally—there’s Hiller’s “very non-historic, non-glamorous” Cessna Cardinal. Visitors cover it with washable-paint handprints in a rainbow of colors. “It’s glorious,” Jon grins. Except for that one time when permanent paint accidentally got used. “That was not my favorite month with the Cardinal,” he admits.

When they’re not covering it in handprints, kids can climb into the Cardinal’s cockpit, manipulate its controls and flip its switches. “It’s unusual to find kids who haven’t been on an airplane ride today. But the experience of flying is very, very insulated from the actual aircraft,” Jon observes. After all, when you board at the airport, you’re traveling through a jet bridge that deposits you straight into a row of airline seats. “You don’t really experience the aircraft even when you’re inside of it. Whereas going up to a small airplane and touching it—that is a very revelatory experience for even older kids and it makes aviation concrete in a way that just going to the airport, and even flying on a modern jetliner, isn’t. So that airplane is very near and dear to me.”

Jon’s own penchant for planes took off at a young age. Not only was his father a flight instructor, but his elementary school was near the main runway of the Long Beach Airport. “Pacific Southwest Airlines was still around,” he reminisces, “and I vividly remember standing on the playground and watching the planes, each with a friendly smile painted on the front, fly past during recess. It never got old.”

Why do kids gravitate to these winged machines? “Transportation in general is cool! It’s something that’s going to go somewhere,” Jon remarks. “Anything that moves is going to be neat for kids. The fact that it flies just adds to that excitement.”

Events are abundant at Hiller Aviation Museum. Holiday festivities include a “leaping leprechaun” skydiving onto the airstrip on St. Patrick’s Day and a helicopter pumpkin drop and Haunted Hangar at Halloween. “We’re going to drop foam footballs for the Super Bowl,” Jon says. The space also gets rented for private events, hosting many a corporate Christmas party, wedding reception and bar mitzvah. “School dances, we get a lot of those,” he notes.

Hiller also collaborates with the San Carlos Airport to host an annual Runway Run in April, which sends joggers from the museum down the airport’s taxiways and runway. And then there’s the Biggest Little Air Show, another partnership with the airport. “It really is little because the aircraft are primarily radio-controlled models,” Jon notes. “But it’s really big in that some of the things that these aircraft are able to do are spectacular.”

Hiller Aviation not only draws crowds, but also community. It’s propelled by Jon and his tight-knit, full-time staff of 10, along with 200 airplane-loving volunteers, nearly half of whom are high schoolers. Volunteers serve as docents, assist with the summer camps and join the crew to restore and rebuild donated aircraft or make full-scale replicas of famous ones.

As Jon completes the tour, he spreads his arms wide, calling attention one last time to the hanging fleet overhead. The rickety wood-framed gliders and the sleek modern jets not only signal aviation’s evolution, but also look expectantly toward its future. “It’s a pretty neat place,” sums up Jon with a boyish grin.

The Palo Alto Junior Zoo’s animal care specialist and ambassador shares the wildest thing she’s ever done, why she loves a certain tortoise and what goes on after all the visitors go home.

What’s your favorite zoo animal name?
Aigon, the one-eyed raccoon, pronounced “eye-gone.”

So what really goes on after-hours? Any animal hijinks?
One early morning, I found all six flamingos going round
and round the hand-washing station, keeping the automatic sprayers activated. Those rascals even figured out how to
open the elevator.

What traits make for a good zookeeper?
A good zookeeper needs to enjoy interacting with humans as much as animals. We are there to share the love for these animals and to create generations of humans who will care to protect them in their natural world.

Who has your vote for cutest animal couple at the zoo?
Without question, Violet and Fern, the African spoonbills. Those two girls are like ladies you would like to sit down and have tea with.

What’s the most unexpected thing you’ve had to do for your job?
Early in my career at the zoo, I was by myself and had to give medication, by injection, to our especially large snake. You have to just straighten your spine and do what needs to be done.

Where are your favorite go-to spots on the Peninsula?
True Food Kitchen at Stanford Shopping Center and The Market at Edgewood. We get our produce for the animals there and they have wonderful food to enrich the zookeepers.

What do you consider a must-do on your bucket list?
I’m living the dream.

What’s new at the zoo these days?
We’ve been incubating ibis and hand-raising them. It’s been thrilling to raise the babies from eggs and then be involved in training them.

How do you recharge your batteries at the end of the day?
A long drive home, along the coast. I live south of Half Moon Bay, near San Gregorio. Then diving into a pile of purring felines when I arrive home.

We understand you have a soft spot for Edward, the African spurred tortoise?
Oh Edward! I love him too much! There’s a communication I feel with him that runs so deep in my heart.

What’s the wildest thing you’ve ever done?
Pulling up a huge alligator from the bottom of a deep pool while doing a life-check in the middle of winter.

What’s something people are always surprised to learn about you?
That I used to fly on a wire, like Peter Pan, for a living. I was employed doing character work in film, commercials and live events for the majority of my life.

Do you have a personal motto?
Leap and the net will appear.

Words by Johanna Harlow

You might be familiar with Cameron’s Pub in Half Moon Bay as “that place with the double-decker bus out front.” But how exactly does a Bristol bus end up on the California coast? Built across the pond, this cheery red giant was designed to be just short enough to pass beneath the arched bridges of the English countryside. First shipped to the States to service Lake Tahoe tourists, it ferried folks from the casinos to the Tahoe Queen moored in Zephyr Cove. Cameron Palmer, whose pub celebrates all things British, repurposed it as a dining area for his smoking customers. “When it eventually rolled into Half Moon Bay, we had a whole bunch of people that were eagerly awaiting it with a pint in their hands,” he says. The bus fits right in with the pub’s other icons of English culture, from the shepherd’s pie and pasties on the menu to the life-sized figure of a King’s Guard, black London taxi and red telephone box. Over its colorful, century-long history, the pub building served as a house of ill repute as well as a mess hall and officer’s quarters during World War II. It’s seen escaped convicts from San Quentin, and Al Capone’s sister ran slot machines downstairs. The Hell’s Angels reportedly once rode their Harley Davidsons right through the front door and up to the bar. More recently, the pub has hosted some illustrious English actors. Gerard Butler stopped by regularly during the filming of Chasing Mavericks and on one memorable karaoke night, Harry Potter’s Daniel Radcliffe belted out the lyrics to Eminem’s “The Real Slim Shady” amid hoots and hollers from the regulars.

Words by Johanna Harlow

Wrongdoers beware: those who underestimate K9 Elvis will soon be singing “Jailhouse Rock.” When this Belgian Malinois and his handler Officer Jason Chice are on the scene, it’s only a matter of time before they track down their quarry.

“We’ve been partners since 2020,” says Jason of the San Mateo Police Department K9 Unit. Back in elementary school, Jason recalls a friend’s father showing up with his canine partner for a class demonstration. The memory stuck with him. “The only thing I’ve ever wanted to do working for a police department was be a K9 officer,” shares Jason, who previously worked as an ambulance driver.

As a dual-purpose patrol dog, Elvis’ skillful performance results from hundreds of hours of training with his handler. “Criminal apprehension is his primary focus,” Jason explains. This includes practice with decoys: courageous men and women clad in protective bite suits willing to face the sharp end of a dog. Dual-purpose K9s don’t just protect police officers. They learn to track people. Some can find guns, while others, like Elvis, sniff out drugs.

But before any of this, Elvis hung out at home with Jason and his family, which includes six other pet dogs. “It’s building that bond like you would with a regular dog,” Jason says of this foundational training. “They get to know who feeds them. They get to know who’s taking care of them… It’s them knowing that, ‘Hey, I can rely on you. You’re part of my pack now.’” He adds, “I don’t think a lot of people know that. They’re part of our family. They’re part of our lives. He is truly a partner.”

So what does a typical day on the job currently look like for these two? “I don’t know if there’s anything ‘typical’ at work,” laughs Jason. But the day always starts with getting into uniform, as both handler and dog suit up in bulletproof vests. Jason and Elvis then head out to keep vigil over the east side of San Mateo. “We’re just on regular patrol like any other officer. The only difference for us is when there are alarm calls.” Whether it’s a burglary or an assault in progress, a stolen vehicle or officers in an altercation, Jason and Elvis are dispatched to the scene.

“There are days where we are going from one end of the city to the other all day long,” Jason says, his upbeat attitude revealing no signs of fatigue. “On an ‘easier day,’ we’ll just patrol our city.” That includes keeping a presence at Bridgepointe Shopping Center: “That way, we deter any thefts from there.”

What truly makes Elvis an asset to the police is his powerful nose. Here’s how Jason describes it: “When grandma’s cooking an apple pie, you smell the apple pie. That’s all you smell. When a dog walks into the room, they smell everything separately. They have 300 million olfactory receptors. They piece everything out: the sugar, everything that’s gone into the crust, the apples, the cinnamon. And they do that in a split second.”

Except instead of dessert, they’re sniffing out drugs and guns. Some K9s are trained to detect gunpowder and gunshot residue, while drug dogs like Elvis can sniff out specific chemicals found in the big four: methamphetamine, cocaine, heroin and ecstasy.

Jason holds up a plastic bone infused with a component of an illegal substance. He attaches it to the underside of the charred and smoky precinct barbecue, an odiferous object for a sensitive pooch. Yet, when Elvis comes on the scene, it takes him less than a minute to beeline for the bone.

Once, on a tracking assignment, Elvis and Jason were called in to locate suspects who’d abandoned their car, split up and fled on foot, with officers muddling the scent. The outcome? “He found all three,” Jason reports.
Jason also oversees the San Mateo K9 unit’s nonprofit, which helps fund the purchase of new dogs, medical bills and care for retired K9s. What keeps the officer’s eye on the ball, or rather the job? “It sounds cliché, but one reason that I got into this line of work is to go out there and help people and make a difference.”

As for Elvis? It’s all a big game. When he stays on task, he’s rewarded with his favorite ball and plenty of treats. “Whether they’re using their nose, whether they’re apprehending someone, it’s all fun for them,” Jason notes with an affectionate scratch behind his Malinois’ ear. “When they’re working, it’s playtime.”

RECRUITING ROVER

Like many Peninsula police departments, San Mateo partners with Redwood City’s Trident K9 Consulting, which handles K9 selections, mostly through breeders in Europe, as well as the training of dogs and their handlers. Temperament-wise, “They kind of match what we look for in an officer,” notes Jason. As for breeds? Typically, Jason sees Belgian Malinois and German shepherd recruits. However, other pups do make the cut. “I’ve been to places and seen a standard poodle used as a dual-purpose K9… I’ve seen pit bulls, I’ve seen Dobermanns.”

Support hotshot hounds – smpdk9.org

At 75 pounds, I am larger than your average Golden Retriever, which proved problematic for my first owner who lived in a very small San Francisco condo. Luckily for me, Sheryl and Lane invited me to live with them in Menlo Park. Now I have a yard for chasing squirrels, and we go on long walks around the neighborhood and in Portola Valley. I am not much interested in the other pups I encounter, but I have yet to find a human I don’t want to meet, greet and, if possible, sit on. It seems I was born to be held and cuddled, and if you stop petting me, I will nudge your elbow until you begin again. If you visit my house, I will be on your lap before you know it, so just settle in and enjoy. I am almost 10 years old and, like the wine I am named after, I just get more golden and sweet every day.

Calling All Dogs: If you've got quirky habits or a funny tale (or tail) to share, email your story to hello@punchmonthly.com for a chance to share a page from your Diary of a Dog in PUNCH.

Although I may look like a black Lab, I’m actually a kangaroo in disguise. As you might imagine, this came as a shock to Connie, who always had black Labs while raising her kids in Atherton. Her previous pups were all “gentle service dogs,” so that’s what she was expecting when her son Cory brought me home to her when I was eight weeks old. Sure enough, “soooo calm” is how she initially described me, but I was just biding my time before revealing my true nature. Once I was all settled in, SURPRISE! As it turns out, I’m from a hunting dog line that loves to run and jump. And jump. And jump. It doesn’t take much to unleash my alter ego. At a single ding of the doorbell, my hind legs kick into gear and I bounce up to greet whoever is there. When Cory comes over to take me on an outing, I’ve been known to hop over the bike rack and tailgate in my dash to the car. And forget any obstacle between me and my food bowl. I can clear a four-foot-high table in a single bound if I know it’s chow time. When I’m not channeling my inner kangaroo, I love running—as fast as I can and even in circles. Although I’m not allowed up on furniture, I’ve figured out a way to place my entire body in Connie’s lap with just my back paws on the ground. Who wouldn’t appreciate a cuddle like that? I also make it my mission to wake up Connie every morning at 7AM sharp. (All it takes is a quick lick of the toes.) No lazing about for this kangaroo-canine: I always want to get a jump on my day!

Calling All Dogs: If you've got quirky habits or a funny tale (or tail) to share, email your story to hello@punchmonthly.com for a chance to share a page from your Diary of a Dog in PUNCH.

Words by Johanna Harlow

For almost a century now, the Stanford Theatre has inhabited downtown Palo Alto. It’s watched shops and decades emerge—and then dissolve. It’s listened as the gravel-y rattle of boxy Ford Model Ts on the street outside gave way to the revving rumble of tailfinned Cadillacs, then to the silent whisper of sleek Teslas. It’s welcomed audiences dressed in pinstripe suits and flapper dresses, tie-dye shirts and flared pants, flowing maxis and khakis.

The theatre’s historical weightiness continues to draw in passersby today. As soon as you make eye contact with the majestic marquee sign above its entrance, the pull is almost irresistible. If you allow it to, the theatre will tug you in through its doors, sweep you across a grandiose, chandeliered lobby, escort you up a blue tiled staircase and, finally, settle you into a red velvet balcony seat. As the crimson curtain parts and a classic black and white movie begins, you’ll have fully traveled back in time.

In the summer of 1925, this neighborhood movie palace opened to great fanfare. The mayor gave a speech. Reginald Denny, star of that night’s motion picture, made an appearance. The newspapers applauded the building’s modern ventilating system, remote-control switchboard system and crushed silver curtains. They marveled at its walls and ceiling coated in Greek-Assyrian paintings and made note of the maid in attendance in the “women’s retiring room.”

These days, you won’t be greeted by an attendant when you visit the washroom, but you’ll still witness décor identical to that of opening night. This hasn’t always been the case. By the time the ’80s rolled around, the Stanford Theatre had spiraled into disrepair. “It was a ramshackle, falling-apart, poor old skeleton of a theatre,” describes Cyndi Mortensen, general manager at the Stanford Theatre and the Stanford Theatre Foundation (the nonprofit that runs it). As it bounced from owner to owner, the elaborate Greek-Assyrian details were painted over, the organ removed. The layer of grime thickened, the seats rusted. Gone were the days dancers, ventriloquists, acrobats and other performers traveled to entertain in vaudeville acts accompanying the movie. Before long, the theatre was reduced to screening second-run action flicks for 50 cents (a dime cheaper than ticket prices here over half a century earlier).

Fortunately, that’s when David W. Packard, the son of one of Hewlett-Packard’s co-founders, burst onto the scene. After beloved singer, dancer and actor Fred Astaire passed away in 1987, Packard rented out the theatre for two weeks to commemorate every movie the star ever made. His modest goal was getting at least 50 people to attend. Instead, more than 1,000 moviegoers lined up each night to savor the spellbinding tap-dance numbers of Astaire in his trademark top hat and tails. After such a remarkable success, Packard convinced his father and the Lucile Packard Foundation to purchase the theatre and grant him stewardship so that movies from the silent era through 1965 could return once again to the big screen.

Coming from a professorial background, Packard unsurprisingly took great pains to reconstruct the theatre’s majestic original appearance. He spent close to two years and $6 million on renovations—a sizable hike from the $300,000 and less than a year it took to initially build the theatre. With the help of a black-and-white photograph and original watercolor sketches, Packard oversaw the return of the Greek-Assyrian detailing. He also restored the period chandeliers, stage pillars, seats and curtains.

But the crowning glory of this jewel box theatre was the Mighty Wurlitzer organ. It took six experts nearly two years to acquire and restore its pieces. Every night since its reopening, the Wurlitzer and its accompanying organist rises out of the stage floorboards during intermission to astound theatergoers with its musical complexity of keys, bells and pedals. “It’s something that people don’t forget,” Cyndi says.

Packard is also behind the carefully crafted movie lineup. “He has very good instincts about these things,” remarks Cyndi, who occasionally contributes ideas herself as well as tracks down 35mm reels from studios and archives. Programs range from genres (like screwball comedies), to directors (like Alfred Hitchcock), to actors (like Jimmy Stewart). In the summer, they spotlight all-time greatest hits.

The most beloved films? “Casablanca hands down,” Cyndi responds. It’s hard not to fall in love with the movie’s suave, affably cynical hero and clever dialogue. (“Here’s looking at you, kid.”) On the film’s 50th anniversary, more people watched the iconic classic here than anywhere else in the country. Other crowd favorites include Wizard of Oz and Gone with the Wind. All three were released between the Golden Age years of 1937 to 1947, which Packard considers the peak of film as an artform. Movies starring Audrey Hepburn or Cary Grant also draw a dedicated following. And, of course, there’s the annual Christmas Eve showing of It’s a Wonderful Life, so adored that people start asking about tickets in July.

“I think most people would assume that we have mostly senior citizens,” Cyndi notes. “We do have some, but we also get all different ages.” Parents enjoy introducing their kids to films they themselves grew up with. “We get these young teenage girls dressed as Holly Golightly. Which is really cute, but I don’t know whether she’s a great role model,” Cyndi chuckles, referring to the main character of Breakfast at Tiffany’s—a high-end escort who sparks with Paul, the “kept” companion of a wealthy socialite. Cyndi also fondly recalls a group of elementary schoolers who showed up dressed as the squirrelly bespectacled actor Harold Lloyd.

Then of course, there’s the Stanford students. They’ve been a core audience at the theatre since the very beginning—for better and for worse. Its close proximity to a college campus inevitably means student hijinks. One such shenanigan dates back to the night of November 7, 1929, when 150 first-years in pajamas rushed the theatre (without paying) and stormed the balcony for a screening of Our Gang. Another night, after the theatre’s restoration, a group of Stanford ballroom dancers twirled down the aisles as the organist played a tango from Astaire’s Flying Down to Rio.

If that wasn’t enough personality for one building, Packard added a gallery, stocking it with original movie posters, newspaper clippings and other ephemera. Cyndi acts as curator, switching out items to match the current program. During the months of “Hitchcock and Other Masters of Suspense,” the walls were bedecked in artistic renderings of intense action shots—like Cary Grant sprinting away from a dive-bombing plane and Grace Kelly struggling to break free from a strangler’s grasp. On special occasions, screenings feature actors’ costumes on display or, better yet, appearances by the actors themselves.

Why do old movies continue attracting modern audiences? “I think it has something to do with classic Hollywood acting,” Cyndi muses. “People don’t act like that anymore.” Bygone eras—and the cultures they cultivated—mean a unique approach to storytelling. We’re enthralled by the differences in dress, home life and social norms—but also anchored by those timeless themes. We still empathize with feelings of frustration over injustice, heartbreak over unrequited love, amusement over minor miscommunications. “They continue to move us, speak to us, make us laugh, make us cry,” Cyndi notes. “They have heart. They resonate. They may be old—but they don’t get old.”

show time – stanfordtheatre.org