Author: punchwpadmin

A confluence of Moorish and Gothic architectural influences, what’s now Redwood City’s historic Fox Theatre opened its doors on January 2, 1929. Ellis John Arkursh, a civil engineer from Chicago who moved west to work on the Panama-Pacific Exposition, articulated his vision in the structure’s majestic design. Originally called the New Sequoia Theater, the venue offered an elegant setting for viewing motion pictures, further enhanced by a stately pipe organ and a projected display of clouds and stars on the ceiling.

After being purchased by the Fox West Coast chain, the theater continued to welcome movie patrons until 1950, when a partial ceiling collapse forced a closure to make repairs. Reopened with great fanfare four months later, the renamed Fox Theatre expanded into live performances, with artists like Etta James, BB King, Neil Young and Melissa Etheridge making appearances over the years. Inducted into the National Register of Historic Places in 1993, the live entertainment and rental venue now consists of Fox Theatre and Club Fox immediately next door. Acquired by new owners in 2017, the property maintains its starring role as a downtown Redwood City hub for public and private events.

Photography: Robb Most / Historic Photography: Courtesy Archives Committee Local History Room

Words by Sharon McDonnell

Lisa Van Dusen defies easy categorization. A social change agent and civic leader for decades, she’s also an executive/leadership coach, an SV2-Silicon Valley Social Venture Fund partner as well as a lifelong practicing artist. After moving to Palo Alto in the mid-’80s, Lisa launched Palo Alto Online for Palo Alto Weekly, the first newspaper in the world to publish its entire contents on the web in the early 1990s, and hosted its First Person video interview series, spotlighting local social innovators, frequently before their influence was widely recognized.

Currently, as executive director of the Palo Alto Community Fund, Lisa works to narrow the inequality gap between the haves and the have-nots in our local communities. Her eclectic accomplishments haven’t gone unnoticed. Among other honors, she was named a Woman of Influence by the Silicon Valley Business Journal.

When I see ‘occupation’ on a form, it still makes me shudder,” she says. “There was never a box for me. I always checked ‘Other.’” Initially viewing that as a weakness, over time, she came to see it as a strength and an ability. Out of that realization came “The Joys of Otherhood,” Lisa’s TEDx talk espousing the benefits of embracing different disciplines, skills and experiences.

“To work on the big challenges and problems in our world, we can’t operate in silos—we need people, like me, to cross-pollinate and weave the parts together,” observes Lisa, who also serves on the board of an NGO and as an advisor to a venture fund that invests in women-led startups. Proud to always be a square peg in a round hole, Lisa, who doesn’t accept givens and whose worldview is a breath of fresh air, offers a dose of inspiration and motivation as we kick off a new year.

Malcolm Gladwell says of “connectors” in his book The Tipping Point, “By having a foot in so many different worlds, they have the effect of bringing them all together.” The word fits you to a T.

I naturally collect and connect a wide range of people, resources, organizations and ideas. I try to be human glue, be a finder, connect the dots.

Given the January time frame, what are your tips on a reset or reinvention?

Do more of what you love, and see how to integrate that into the rest of your life. My ‘walking meetings’ are an example: If someone says, ‘Let’s have coffee,’ I say, ‘How about a walk?’ Wish big. We often have a failure of imagination. We don’t let ourselves nurture our dreams. Taking small steps to reach something big is OK—think, ‘What’s the next step?’ Plant seeds and see what grows. What you give attention to really grows.

What are some practices that sustain you?

In the morning, I try to meditate, draw, write and exercise. Making art—for a wide range of outlets—everything from cards for friends to film and book illustrations. I have a Free Little Art Gallery in front of my house, where people can contribute, take or just enjoy art, including my own. Hiking—we are so fortunate to live on the Peninsula. Foothills Park in Palo Alto and the Hamms Gulch Trail on Windy Hill are two favorites. Gardening—my husband and I have a plot in the community garden at Eleanor Pardee Park. I also believe in the ‘joy of others’—I meet and talk to people every day, wherever I am. I get so much out of conversations with people I wouldn’t normally cross paths with.

In your TEDx talk called “The Joys of Otherhood,” you tell a wonderful anecdote about how when you were 10, your teacher assigned both a science project and an English project. But you combined them both, to resounding success. It seems to foreshadow your later life—can you explain?

I wanted to create a play about the Scopes trial, where Darwin’s theory of evolution was challenged, instead. The teacher said yes, so I recruited students from different grades to be part of it, and I cast myself as a reporter so I could use my reporter’s notebook as a prompter because I had a hard time memorizing my lines. So in many ways, that experience was a revelation and a high point of my childhood. I could combine my various interests into one project, and I didn’t need or even want to do it by myself. I’m still not good at memorization—but it’s worked for me. In fact, I’ve been happily doing improv classes and workshops for more than 25 years.

Does your life have any operating principles?

My lens in the world is both broad and narrow. There’s a hawk view, seeing things from 30,000 feet up; a chicken view, seeing things on the ground; and a hummingbird view, where I spend most of my time, traveling between elevations and different perspectives. I’m high-touch, playful and straightforward. Humor is big for me—as in taking my work seriously but not myself. I see the elephant in the room. If people say something I know isn’t true, I feel compelled to call it out.

Is there a book that particularly inspired you?

Uncommon Genius: How Ideas Are Born. It’s interviews with 40 MacArthur “genius” award winners is a window into people’s life paths that weren’t traditional paths, the breadcrumb trail.

Do you have a motto?

Carpe diem! I also love Margaret Mead’s quote, ‘Never doubt that a small group of thoughtful committed citizens can change the world: indeed it’s the only thing that ever has.’

Check ‘Other’ – lisavandusen.com

Eyes may be the window to the soul, and mine are pretty expressive, but I can say a whole lot more with just a flick of my ears. I’ll explain in a bit, but first, let me say how happy I am to be kicking off another year with my family in Menlo Park. Back in 2021, I was being fostered through Copper’s Dream Rescue when I had a “meet and greet” with Anna and Gus. They were instantly drawn to my sweet, earnest face and brought me home that very same day. Thinking I was a Jack Russell mix (not a stretch given my coloring), they named me Milo, after the terrier in the movie The Mask. Funnily enough, when they did a DNA test on me, they discovered I’m 0% terrier and 100% mutt (including Shih Tzu, Chihuahua, Dachshund and Pomeranian). So, back to my ears. It didn’t take long for Anna and Gus to realize that I use them to communicate what I’m thinking. I have four different positions. When I’m walking and focused, I hold my ears flat against my head. When I spot a squirrel, my ears move instantly forward, which means, “Go!” I love food more than anything, so when I smell a yummy scent or hear words like “breakfast,” “lunch,” “dinner” or “hungry,” my ears perk straight up and I tilt my head to one side for good measure. And finally, when I’m sleepy, my ears hang down gently—with just a slight perk. You see, I always try to stay just a tiny bit alert. Who knows? Someone might be taking a bite of an apple and offer to share it with me.

Words by Sloane Citron

“There, under the piece of mud, I think I see one,” I shouted to my friend, Donny Sadler, who was digging near me. I scraped at the wet earth, malleable but still hard, and slowly pulled out the arrowhead. It was a beauty—all points in perfect shape and clear markings on the carved flint.
I didn’t realize it at the time, but I was holding perhaps an arrowhead from the last Comanche band—essentially, small family groups—led by Quanah Parker, the first and only true Comanche leader, though he led a mix of defeated and compromised bands who were making their way to the reservations onto which they were forced.

For generations, the Comanches, actually a disparate tribe of individual bands with no real leaders, roamed the Texas Panhandle plains, finding food, refuge and safety in the canyons unique to this region.

The vast, mostly treeless area comprised of grasslands is on a high, flat plateau. And yet, suddenly, there are deep canyons (known as inverted mountains) carved by ancient rivers and their tributaries. The most famous of these is the spectacular Palo Duro Canyon, second only to the Grand Canyon in size and grandeur. Other canyons dot the landscape, breaking up the monotony of the endless expanses.

This is where I grew up, in Amarillo, a 30-minute drive from Palo Duro Canyon and from another, smaller canyon—simply called “The Canyon,” where my family had built a small cabin in the early 1960s. My father, a surgeon, joined the Korean War effort, and was sent to Japan for two years. While there, he developed a fondness for the architecture, and so when it came time to build a getaway for weekend retreats, he constructed it in Japanese fashion. The whole structure rested on stilts, one side for living with a small red bridge connected to the sleeping quarters. In the front, mounted on a large wooden structure, was a large Japanese gong, which could be heard throughout the canyon and was used to gather us children for meals and bedtime.

At the time, several of the local doctors developed small cabins here, drawn to each other, the natural beauty of the canyon, a small creek running through the middle of it and the rudimentary nine-hole golf course at its center. Of course, we children loved it out there. We climbed the hills, built rock wall forts, lit fireworks, explored old Indian caves and fireplaces, caught fireflies, watched lightning storms, swam in the shabby community pool, went creek fishing with long bamboo poles, played kick-the-can late into the night and, best of all, hunted for arrowheads, especially after a good rain.

Last summer, I spent some time in an adjacent canyon where our longtime family friend, Trudy Klingensmith Kraft, still owns the cabin her parents built more than 60 years ago. It’s a stunning spot where conversing, hiking and discovering are the key activities. She showed me her numerous arrowheads, points and flints, from a lifetime of collecting. Trudy raved about the Pulitzer Prize finalist and epic New York Times bestseller Empire of the Summer Moon, which examines the rise and fall of the Comanches and the famous Quanah Parker.

A hard book to put down, it paints an accurate picture of the struggle between the native tribes and the American destiny of millions of settlers coming to claim their piece of the open Plains territories. Neither side could claim moral victory, as there was torture, extreme violence, destruction and brutal killings on both sides during the four-decade war for control of this part of the American West.

What was of particular interest to me was that much of this mayhem happened in and around the canyon that I had hiked, explored and loved as a child. The burned-out caves we found were used by the Comanches; the long-hardened paths were traveled on by their horses as they sought the last of the buffalo; and, most of all, their thousands of arrowheads littered the ground, once resting on top of their handmade shafts, shot and lost in an effort to kill game, other natives and settlers.

To me, as a kid, they were simply something we hunted for, found with great regularity and collected. Until I read this enlightening book, I didn’t have a true understanding of the historical significance they held. As a sentimental man who keeps things because of the places they return me to, I knew that my arrowheads were someplace in my home, but where? I wanted to see them in a new light, caress their flinty edges and feel their sharp points, imagining their history. After a long search, I discovered my lost treasures tucked behind some books in my bookcase. I pulled them out and was transported not only to my childhood, but now, as well, to the time of the Comanches who fought in vain to hold their place on the Panhandle plains.

Compiled by Sheri Baer & Melissa Typrin

The holiday season is all about giving. Whether it’s giving gifts, money or time, the mindset is thinking about others. But it’s always good to remember that help is needed throughout the year. Here on the Peninsula, there are countless ways to volunteer, whether you’re looking for a one-time event or an ongoing commitment. Even better, with a little effort, you can find a worthy cause that directly taps into your skills and interests. Continuing PUNCH’s own holiday tradition, here’s our annual sampling of fresh ideas to get you inspired. For more opportunities, check out volunteermatch.org

Save Senior Pups

Although puppy love is undeniable, back in 2007, Sherri Franklin set out on a mission to “make senior dogs sexy.” She founded Muttville to save the lives of dogs that were considered “unadoptable” for no other reason than they were older. Since then, Muttville has become a model for animal rescues, with more than 10,000 dogs going to loving homes rather than spending their last days in shelters. Muttville rescues anywhere from 15-25 senior pups each week from across the Bay Area and beyond. In addition to fostering dogs while they wait for adoption, there are numerous ways to contribute—whether it’s creating adoption videos, staffing outreach events or transporting pups. Volunteers are asked to commit to at least three hours a week for a minimum of six months. See muttville.org/volunteer for all the ways you can help.

Shoot Pro Bono

If your favorite place to be is behind a camera lens, ProBonoPhoto offers a way to donate your expertise to support worthy causes. Founded by retired scientist and biotech executive Jack Owicki, the service acts as a clearinghouse—matching up volunteer professional and advanced amateur photographers and videographers with Bay Area nonprofits engaged in community service, social justice or environmental advocacy. After managing volunteer photography for the Bay Area Women’s Marches in 2017, Jack heard photographers saying they’d like to do more. Whether it’s large events, publicity photos, headshots or photo essays—an Earth Day tree planting, 9/11 memorial or a vigil for peace in Ukraine—ProBonoPhoto prioritizes clients who are not well funded enough to pay for professional photography. A fast mid-range zoom lens typically works well, and for indoor events (where flash isn’t allowed), you’ll need a camera with high ISO capability. To see if you’d be a good fit, visit
probonophoto.org

Be a Sport (Coach)

Did playing a sport make a difference in your life? Then volunteering as a coach might be a slam dunk for you. Between local YMCAs, youth organizations and public schools, opportunities abound with training frequently provided. At the Palo Alto Family YMCA, the youth basketball league team coaches are 100% volunteer-driven. If an overhead smash is more your style, the East Palo Alto Tennis & Tutoring Academy (EPATT) needs coaches for the next generation of players. EPATT is a free youth education program that serves K-12 students in under-resourced communities. As a volunteer coach, you’ll teach students the basics of the game, with a focus on fun, teamwork and sportsmanship. In tandem with academic tutoring (another volunteer opportunity), students learn how they can up their games both on the court and in the classroom. For more information, email tennis@epatt.org or visit epatt.org/get-involved

Give Nature a Boost

What we appreciate and love, we protect. That’s the premise of Environmental Volunteers, a local nonprofit dedicated to educating Bay Area kids since 1972. If you’re passionate about science and nature, this is your chance to lead hands-on programs designed to inspire the future stewards of Earth. After starting with a few schools in Palo Alto, the program now reaches 10,000 students in 70+ San Mateo and Santa Clara County schools with its cutting-edge science curriculum. Engage with small groups in a classroom setting—through games, experiments and even animal encounters. There’s also a need for community and outreach volunteers at the EcoCenter in Palo Alto or as a Foothills Park Trail Ambassador. Other opportunities include helping with after-school programs, guided walks and event staffing. No experience is needed and training sessions are provided on a rolling basis.
Visit environmentalvolunteers.org or email volunteer@environmentalvolunteers.org for more information.

Engage your Green Thumb

Willing to get your hands dirty? Then get ready to dig in! Volunteers are needed all over the Peninsula. Take your pick: school, garden, park or historic house? At Hidden Villa in Los Altos Hills, volunteers pitch in to work in the field alongside the farm crew or sign up to join the “Dirty Knees Brigade” at Palo Alto’s Gamble Garden. Also in Palo Alto, the Museum of American Heritage needs garden volunteers to help with watering plants, weeding, transplanting and fertilizing. Through San Mateo County Parks, volunteers and staff work at different locations each week—teaming up to clear trails and restore native habitat, whether it’s invasive plant removal or planting native vegetation. Pick your favorite path, then check websites to explore volunteer opportunities.

Talk Up Your Town

Become a hometown hero by preserving the history of your own community. You’ll find no shortage of ways to get involved. Head over to the Los Altos History Museum, which explores the area’s rich heritage and how the “Valley of Heart’s Delight” evolved into today’s Silicon Valley. Opened in 2001, the museum will be launching a new immersive, multimedia permanent exhibit in 2023 and is looking for docents comfortable with high-tech, interactive elements. Just across the courtyard, ambassadors are also needed to welcome visitors to the landmark J. Gilbert Smith House, which has been refurbished to replicate a 1930s farmhouse. Learn how to get involved at losaltoshistorymuseum.org. Meanwhile, in San Carlos, you can volunteer to become a “Villager” docent at the Museum of San Carlos History. Beyond occasional museum duties, Villagers collect and safeguard San Carlos memorabilia and help out with annual events including Hot Harvest Nights and Home Town Days. Look for more details at sancarloshistorymuseum.org

make time for kitty cats

If you consider yourself a cat person, why not make some meow time? By joining the team of volunteers at Palo Alto Humane Society, you can make a difference to the lives of cats in our community. Two hours a week is all that’s required to bring food to feral cat colonies in parking lots, backyards and bushes. Or, help out with TNR (trap, neuter and return) of homeless and feral cats. Volunteers are needed to drive them to clinics and house them overnight while they recover from surgery. If you can make a short-term commitment (four to eight weeks), consider fostering a litter of homeless kittens or an adult cat until a permanent home can be found. Training, support and supplies are provided—just be ready to play, feed and cuddle. Find out how to get involved at paloaltohumane.org or email pahs@paloaltohumane.org

Provide Compassionate Care

Do you enjoy art, music, poetry or reading aloud? Perhaps you’re a good listener or speak a second language. Those are just a handful of ways you can provide important emotional and social support to hospice patients and their families. It can even be as simple as taking a short walk or running an errand. San Mateo County’s first hospice program, Mission Hospice & Home Care, is an example of a nonprofit organization that welcomes volunteers willing to share their special training and interests or even a friendly pet. Providing end-of-life care in San Mateo and northern Santa Clara counties, Mission Hospice says musicians are especially in demand with patients frequently asking if someone can sing, play an instrument or just listen to music with them. Direct care volunteers make weekly visits to homes, nursing facilities or wherever patients live. Volunteer hours are flexible, depending on the needs of a patient’s family and your own schedule. See how you can help in a meaningful way at missionhospice.org/volunteer

act on your interest

Do you revel in drama (or comedy or musicals)? The Peninsula theater community is always eager for helping hands—whether it’s a youth production or Silicon Valley’s leading professional nonprofit theatre company. In the case of the latter, TheatreWorks presents year-round performances in the Mountain View Center for the Performing Arts and at the Lucie Stern Theatre in Palo Alto. If you have evening and weekend availability, consider helping out as an usher or concession volunteer, which also lets you see the show for free. Hospitality volunteers assist with special events, from opening night parties to annual galas. As a resident volunteer, you can also donate your time to TheatreWorks’ offices on a regular basis. Additional perks for your work: attending final dress rehearsals, special discounts and an invite to the annual “Thank You” party. Register online at theatreworks.org or reach out to volunteers@theatreworks.org

Spread some library love

Do you fondly remember library time as a kid? Here’s your chance to help foster a lifelong love of learning in others. California consistently ranks near the bottom for school library funding nationwide. The mission of Access Books Bay Area is to level the literacy playing field for K-8 students in low-income schools by providing access to high-quality, culturally relevant books and transforming neglected school libraries into inviting and comfortable places to read. Check in regularly for immediate ways to help out such as painting wall murals or processing and delivering books for local school libraries, classrooms and free book boxes. You can also directly contribute by running a book drive to collect books and donations or donate books through the nonprofit’s Amazon wish list. Go to accessbooksbayarea.org or email books@accessbooksbayarea.org to discover all the ways to get involved.

You’re likely wondering how I came to have such a fancy name. My new family thinks it’s because the beautiful spots on my ears look like gems but they don’t really know for sure. What is for certain is that I was well-loved (and well-fed) before Kim and Steve adopted me. Back in 2020, when my original family in Modesto couldn’t keep me any longer, they drove me to the Peninsula Humane Society & SPCA because they knew I could stay as long as it took to find me a new home. And that’s exactly what happened. After I was featured as the “Dog of the Week” in the local paper, Kim and Steve instantly recognized the jewel (or Jewels) that I am and brought me back to Los Altos. Back then, I was considered a nine-year-old “senior” dog—admittedly on the chubby side. I recently turned 12 and I’m in better shape than ever. I’ve trained Kim and Steve to walk to our local pet supply store. Despite the free treats I’m always given, I’ve managed to slim down thanks to our daily outings. Talk (or bark) about a win-win! I also get exercise through backyard squirrel patrol duty. I may waddle when I walk, but I sprint like a puppy when I need to remind those pesky varmints who’s in charge. Still, I’m a lady at heart. Not only do I have gems on my ears, I’m also known for my delightful fragrance. When Kim and Steve smell my herbal scent (and see my green face), they know I’ve been up to my other favorite pastime: rolling around in the rosemary bushes.

Words by Jennifer Jory

In the heart of Portola Valley, well-groomed horses prance around an arena in a postcard-like setting. After instructing six riders with laser focus, Spring Down Equestrian Center (SDEC) owner Carol Goodstein walks her five rescue dogs and then prepares for a full slate of training classes in the afternoon. “I love what I do and it’s my passion,” she beams. “I feel fortunate that I do what I really enjoy.” With a quick stride and the energy of someone half her age, Carol presides over the three-acre ranch that preserves a family-like atmosphere and a slice of equestrian life on the Peninsula.

Married at 19 to her late husband Stan, Carol studied at San Francisco State before switching to an accounting program to help Stan in his new venture, which became the 13-store mattress chain Slumberland. They soon had two children: first Gary, then Lori. Stan, also an animal lover, enthusiastically supported their purchase of Spring Down in 1984, and while he had other interests besides horses, he always gave in to adding more horses and dogs over the years. “When my husband decided to get out of the sleep business, I had six horses,” she recounts. “We bought Spring Down and it all blossomed from there.”

Carol’s rescue poodles crowd Spring Down’s office, which is staffed by young riders who share her passion. “Horses became my second love after dogs,” she relays. At just seven years old, Carol started riding and taking lessons in San Francisco at Stanyon Stables. After a fire destroyed the property in 1944, she moved to St. Francis Stables on Arguello Street. “It was a lot of fun in those days,” she remembers. “I spent a lot of time riding on the beach and in Golden Gate Park.” Carol also enjoyed Lowell High School’s after-school riding program, where she ran the end-of-the-year horse show. Until just recently, she led Spring Down riders on horse excursions from Golden Gate Park to the beach so they could experience the same ride she cherished growing up.

When Carol is not teaching one of her 50 weekly riding lessons, her mission to safeguard horse property on the Peninsula keeps her busy. Her commitment runs so deep that this year she pledged the (mortis causa) donation of Spring Down to the San Mateo Horseman’s Association, an organization founded in 1940 to support the local legacy of horsemanship. “I don’t want horses to disappear from this area,” she stresses. “People are selling their property and moving out of California. I want Spring Down to stay horse property.”

Carol’s generosity and commitment to her goal of maintaining open space and equestrian life on the Peninsula began nearly 20 years ago. In 2000, she sold the front six acres of Spring Down to the town of Portola Valley with the directive that it could never be developed. With her recent pledge, Spring Down will continue serving the community and offering lessons and camps for riders in perpetuity.

“This is what God put me on Earth to do,” Carol believes. “To save kids, horses, dogs and cats too. It is just my thing.” She explains that when young people are going down the wrong path, horses and the discipline of riding can play vital roles in correcting their direction. “When a horse needs you,” she says, “you respond to it and the horse responds as well.” Carol underscores a horse’s keen ability to read human emotions and sense a nervous rider. She teaches students to breathe deeply and relax and says that when this happens, it transforms the rider and their relationship with the horse.

In 1982, Carol jumped into professional riding and showing at events at the Woodside Mounted Patrol grounds and in Gilroy and Carmel Valley shows. ”I wanted to have fun,” recalls Carol. “I didn’t like the competition or the attitude. Everyone hated or loved their horse by the end of the show and I didn’t like that.” Her experience translated into a philosophy that teaches riders to view horses as companions rather than competitors.

“Anyone can come here and learn to ride,” she says. “You tell us what you want to learn and we will teach you.”

An animal lover at heart, Carol emphasizes education and teaches riders how to bond with horses, to spot what triggers a horse and how to get a horse back on the thinking side of its brain. “Most of my horses have been my pets,” she shares. ”I have a little different attitude here and everyone has fun. The people who ride here just want to be around horses. They want the connection and we provide it.”

Reflecting on life at Spring Down, Carol summarizes, “This is home to a lot of people. The minute they drive in, they’re family. My property manager Manuel came with Spring Down and our head groom Francisco has been here longer than me.” Carol confirms that the legacy she hopes to leave is for the Equestrian Center to continue its hundreds of weekly lessons and camps for generations to come. She credits Spring Down for countless personal lessons in patience and humility and laughs, “Just about the time you think you know it all, the horses teach me there’s more to learn.”

Get Ready to Ride – springdown.com

Words by Sheri Baer

“It’s lit!” That’s what they first said about Pigeon Point Lighthouse on November 15, 1872—and it’s still true in 2022 as this iconic Peninsula landmark celebrates its 150th anniversary. Standing at a majestic 115 feet, the light station is the tallest tower (tied with Point Arena) on the West Coast. Originally called Whale Point, the headland was renamed Pigeon Point to honor the ship “Carrier Pigeon” that ran aground here in 1853 en route from Boston to San Francisco. Built to guide vessels safely through the foggy, treacherous coastal waters, Pigeon Point Lighthouse originally signaled mariners with a 2,000-pound Fresnel lens that delivered the illumination power of 500,000 candles. Perched on a cliff about five miles south of Pescadero, the white brick structure served its duty—and became a popular tourist attraction. However, over time, the lighthouse fell into disrepair and was closed to the public in 2001. Using an automated LED beacon, Pigeon Point continues to be an active Coast Guard navigation aid, and at Pigeon Point’s Fog Signal Building, visitors can view exhibits and artifacts including the tower’s original Fresnel lens that’s on display. The structures at Pigeon Point’s base also put out the welcome mat after being converted into Hostelling International vacation rentals. Listed on the National Register of Historic Places and designated as a California Historical Landmark, the famous tower is finally getting a new lease on “light.” In 2021, the California State Legislature approved full funding to complete an $18.9 million restoration project.

Words by Sloane Citron

It was early December, the start to the holiday season, when I gathered up Arielle and Talia, both young teenagers, and we headed out for an unknown-to-us East Bay location. After they had seen a colleague’s adorable Yorkshire Terrier puppy, and finding my sweet daughters too difficult to resist, I promised to take them to look—and look only—at the litter. Foolish, naïve me!

As they played with five squirming balls of energy, my daughters’ smiles and happiness were not missed by me. One puppy stood out, not for his brilliant coat or his outgoing personality, but, really, the lack of both. He seemed shy and in need of love and support, and that was the puppy to which my daughters were drawn.

Inevitably, they begged me to bring him home with us. It was near Hanukkah and I, perhaps the softest dad ever, gave in to the joy and exuberance of my loving girls. And just like that, Chase was ours.

The sweet puppy quickly mastered the ins and outs of living in our home of six, and we shared many happy years with Chase being a part of the family, though the kids were slowly making their ways out the door.

When my oldest child, Josh, returned from college and moved to a small Palo Alto home, he asked if Chase could live with him. I went over to Josh’s home every morning and picked up Chase so that he could spend the day at my office. This went on for a few years until Josh became engaged and moved on with his life. And at this point, so had the rest of the kids, and Chase, then, was truly mine.

This small dog did not have a sparkling personality—never wagged his tail, never tried to lick my face, never seemed much excited about anything. And yet, the moment I entered our home he came running to me and would not leave my side until I had left the premises. They say that dogs often resemble their owners, and I guess that was true with us—introverted, calm, but loving and devoted.

Chase could rely on me for a morning chew stick and some of our leftovers from dinner. Before bedtime, we would walk out into our front yard and while he was relieving himself, I would look at the moon and stars and try to say a word of gratitude. We had our many rituals and he never tired of reminding me of them. I came to rely on Chase for his devotion and companionship, and I truly loved the little guy.

A couple of years ago, when he was 15, Chase started slowing down, unable to jump on the couch, having difficulty going up and down the stairs and so on. It became clear that his eyesight and hearing were failing. And yet, he was mostly his usual self. Because he meant so much to me, I worked to accommodate his aging, hoping to keep him in my life as long as possible.

But his health continued to deteriorate, and then came the issue of his incontinence. Family and friends told me it was time, that he was almost 17 and had had a good life. And yet, I just couldn’t do it. Six months passed.

Emotionally, I was conflicted between competing subtleties: the kind, gentle premise “of putting him to sleep” and the guilty dread that we would be “killing” him. I struggled and resisted, unable to imagine life without Chase by my side, without him welcoming me as I walked through the front door. I also realized—with resigned sadness—that losing Chase would sever the last connection with my children’s childhoods. What finally made me decide to move forward was that I didn’t want the fragile little guy to have a terrible fall down the stairs.

So, while he was still the little love of my life, I made the call to a vet who would come to our home and take care of things. I planned it so that I would have three days to pamper him and say goodbye. The kids all came over or used FaceTime to say their farewells.

His last 24 hours were surreal. Each of his usual routines became his last and I gave him so much of his favorite foods that I was afraid he couldn’t keep it down. As the hours ticked toward his appointment, I thought about canceling it a dozen times. I sat with him, thanking him for all he had given to our family, unable to hold back the tears of my appreciation and the upcoming loss of my buddy.

The vet arrived and was incredibly gentle and kind, as though this was the first time she had ever done this. My sweet daughter Talia—there from the beginning to the end—came over with her newborn, Noah. We went outside and in a familiar chair, I held Chase, stroking his hair and comforting him. The vet gave him a sedative and Chase put his small head between his paws on my leg, giving me a last moment to tell him that I loved him.

Chase almost made it to another holiday season, and it will be lonelier without him. Loss reminds us to relish the time we have with the people and pets that bring us happiness, and to love and cherish what gives us joy, especially during this season of light. Happy Hanukkah and Christmas.

Words by Johanna Harlow

For holiday hunters seeking the glow of the season, the hundreds of thousands of LEDs of an amped-up Christmas light neighborhood summon like a homing beacon. Among the Peninsula’s most brilliant displays is Dewey Street, an unassuming Redwood City block that transforms with fairy godmother-like magic into twinkling Candy Cane Lane every December.

It started in the early 1950s with a handful of decked-out households. Today, the entire street dazzles with a congregation of snowmen, santas, reindeer and other colorful Christmas characters rallying en masse across lawns and rooftops. “We’re crazier than most people with Christmas decorations,” concedes resident Derek Wolfgram. “But I still feel like we’re several levels below people who do the Great Christmas Light Fight TV show. Those are the people who basically spend year-round preparing their houses for Christmas!”

Regardless, Candy Cane Lane doesn’t skimp on revelry. Derek and his neighbors hold their own against spirited contenders like Christmas Tree Lane on Palo Alto’s Fulton Street and Eucalyptus Street in San Carlos.

“I always really liked decorating for the holidays at our previous house, but realized that I needed to step up my game a little bit here,” states the Redwood City Public Library Director by day, Christmas light wizard by night. Derek moved to Candy Cane Lane/Dewey Street with his wife back in 2016. “It was actually in the real estate disclosures because of the traffic impact,” chuckles Derek. “For me, it was a selling point.”

Photos: Gino de Grandis, Derek Wolfgram, Bob Harrington and Philip Liu

Leading up to Derek’s first Christmas on the block, one of his new neighbors invited him over to create the sweet signature decoration that marks every Dewey Street home. “They had all of the supplies so I could build my own stovepipe candy cane,” he recalls. “I used duct tape to put the red stripe on mine.”

Another unifying thread throughout the neighborhood are the banners over garage doors, wishing visitors a Merry Christmas in different languages. “We have Finnish because my wife’s grandmother was Finnish,” Derek notes.

These harmonizing elements are part of the charm of Christmas light neighborhoods. Over at Palo Alto’s Christmas Tree Lane, everyone agrees to post six-foot noble firs in their front yards, transforming Fulton Street into a magical forest. The City assists with changing the bulbs of the street lights to red. According to resident Bob Harrington, “One tradition is that when a house is sold, those decorations are passed from the selling homeowner to the new buyer.”

Creating a Scene

Back in Redwood City, Derek shares a behind-the-scenes perspective on his elaborate setup process. “It’s a lot of work and it’s a lot of fun,” he says, remarking that while his wife offers support, “It’s sort of my baby.” String lights are wound around windows, woven across the roof and framed around the home’s borders. Cutouts and blowups are staged. Candy cane stakes planted. “I’ve got dozens of things to plug in,” Derek remarks.

“Mapping out the network of extension cords that run all around the yard to get everything connected is always challenging. And then every time I add something, that puts a new twist on it.” Derek estimates it takes about 30 hours to set everything up.

A six-foot blowup of Snoopy holds a special place in Derek’s heart. “It’s the Christmas decoration I’ve had the longest,” he explains. “I think it’s the only thing that carried over from our previous house.” These days, Snoopy has plenty of friends to keep him company. Nearby, Schroeder pounds on his piano while Lucy leans against the lid. “There’s about eight of them that I’ve seen online,” Derek says of the Peanuts characters. “They kind of went deep—there’s even Marcie and Peppermint Patty–but they are a little pricey, so I add them slowly.”

But Derek didn’t stop with the Charles Schulz universe. “I have a pretty comprehensive collection of all of the characters from the Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer special,” he continues. “There’s a company that keeps making more and more obscure misfit toys every year. Last year, I added the cowboy riding an ostrich. I’ve also got King Moonracer, who is a lion, the Charlie-in-the-Box and the train with square wheels.” For the younger kids, he’s included Buddy the Elf.

Always evolving his artform, Derek says his holiday setup is far from finished. “There’s several websites that I look over every year to see if they’ve added anything new,” he grins. Just consider his spinning candy cane windmill. It’s from a site called Christmas Done Bright, although Derek calls the piece “modest” compared to some of the other animated light displays the company sells. “It’s for people who really want to take it over the top and have decorations that cost thousands of dollars,” he explains. “If you’ve ever driven through Vasona Lake Park in Los Gatos at Christmas time, it’s those commercial-style, giant lighted things. You can buy them yourself!”

Over in Bob’s neck of the woods, standout Palo Alto homes include a star atop a lofty redwood tree, a book-themed yard with a sleigh photo op (created by the founder of Bring Me a Book Foundation) and elaborate cutouts ranging from snowboarders on the slopes to Santa and his reindeer having a pool party. Christmas Tree Lane also features a yard with dancing children from around the world, channeling “It’s a Small World” spirit. Bob notes that this is fitting, considering the crowd the event draws. “I think I heard at least four or five different languages as I was just walking along,” he says of the previous year.

Naughty and Nice

Let it be known that Christmas decorations aren’t all fun and games. Challenges arise and even a gusty storm can wreak havoc. Derek recalls the year his Candy Land-themed neighbors got hit: “They have a lot of big inflatable candies that sit in the front yard. There was one year we had really severe wind and their candies were distributed all across the neighborhood.”

Then, of course, there’s the electricity bill. Though LEDs have thankfully lowered costs, blowups aren’t so cheap. “I would say that our electrical bill probably quadruples for the month,” Derek confesses, unabashed.
But the anticipation and excitement of the season is… well, electric. “It’s spreading joy,” Derek remarks. “I love hearing kids laughing and people reminiscing about either the decorations or their experiences in the past. I’ll talk to people who haven’t been to Candy Cane Lane since the ‘80s, and they’re so excited that it’s still here.”

“For me, there’s an element of nostalgia to it for sure,” continues Derek, who grew up with traditional winters in the Midwest. “The juxtaposition of all the brightly colored lights and the snow—there’s something super magical about that. But even in the Bay Area where we don’t typically have that kind of weather, I think it’s unexpected and pretty. People have this very visceral, happy reaction to something that’s pure fun.”

Beyond just pretty lights, performances also make the season bright. For the past 45 years, dancers from Redwood City’s Studio S Broadway twist and twirl along the road (this year, on December 9). A saxophone ensemble from the Peninsula Wind Symphony has also performed in recent years (watch them on December 20 & 22). “They’ve actually played in my driveway,” Derek says of the musicians. “A friend of mine offered, she has this group that she’s part of and she asked, ‘Can we come do a show?’” What’s more, Derek’s librarian friends come for story time, reading crowd-favorites like Merry Christmas, Big Hungry Bear.

At the heart of it though is the fellowship these festivities garner. “We’re doing it in the name of spreading happiness. Everybody gets out and walks up and down the street and gets a chance to catch up,” Derek summarizes. “I’ve never lived on a block that felt as close-knit a community as what we have here.”

On one side sits the Pacific Ocean. On the other,
San Francisco Bay. Quite simply, that’s what creates the Peninsula. Although we share a common geographic region, our individual communities each have distinct origin stories. We’re talking fascinating tales of threatening land grabs, rowdy saloons, Spanish kings and even Scottish folk songs. If you’ve ever wondered what’s with that next town’s name, we’ve wrangled a two-part (admittedly not-comprehensive and in no particular order) account that may both enlighten and surprise you. Come back next month for more!

Burlingame

1. Credit the Gold Rush in a roundabout way for the naming of Burlingame. It all started when businessman William Davis Merry (W.D.M.) Howard made a fortune, no, not by finding gold, but in the more practical way of selling prospectors all the provisions they needed to go out and not find gold.

2. Living in San Francisco, Howard bought the 6,500-acre Rancho San Mateo in 1850 for $25,000 (That’s $3.88 an acre!) with a plan to retire with his family to the country. Lamentably, he was struck by poor health within a few years.

3. After Howard died at the age of 36, the land was eventually sold off to prominent banker William Ralston, and although the details are a little fuzzy, to the diplomat Anson Burlingame, who created his own Peninsula estate. In addition to becoming the town’s namesake, Burlingame, who was appointed by President Lincoln as U.S. Minister to China, is also known for 1868’s “Burlingame Treaty” with China.

4. Following the 1906 earthquake, a number of San Francisco residents looked south for a fresh start and snapped up “for sale” lots in Burlingame, which was officially incorporated in 1908.

Menlo Park

1. Although the East Coast typically touts “first” bragging rights, in the case of Menlo Park, the West is the clear O.G. Contrary to conventional assumptions, our Menlo Park was not named after Menlo Park, New Jersey, famous for being the home of Thomas Edison (circa 1876). Indeed, the New Jersey city as well as Menlo, Washington, were named after our Peninsula town, not the other way around.

2. Menlo Park owes its name to two Irishmen who bought a large tract of the former Rancho de las Pulgas in 1854. They erected wooden gates proclaiming their new estate Menlo Park after their ancestral home in Menlough (meaning “middle lake”) in County Galway, Ireland.

3. When the railroad came through in 1863, the unnamed stop needed a name and the Menlo Park gates provided the perfect inspiration. (Of note: Menlo Park’s train station holds the record as the oldest continually operating station in California.)

4. What happened to the original Menlo Park signage? Sadly, it succumbed to a 1922 car accident. The good news? A reproduction of the historic arch was dedicated on St. Patrick’s Day in 2019, to celebrate the city’s Irish roots.

Hillsborough

1. Cue W.D.M. Howard again. The city of Hillsborough can boast an even more direct connection to the aforementioned successful businessman and trader, who originally hailed from Hillsborough, New Hampshire. (Er, sorry, Peninsula…the East Coast takes firsties in this case.)

2. The son of a wealthy shipping magnate, Howard recognized opportunity after sailing on one of his father’s ships to the West Coast. By the late 1840s, he was well established and in prime position to take advantage of the Gold Rush, which helped finance his purchase of the Rancho San Mateo Mexican land grant where Hillsborough is located.

3. As nearby towns of San Mateo and Burlingame expanded over time, there was talk of annexing the area’s grand estates. So, in 1910, the residents of Hillsborough (with its 89 registered voters) filed incorporation papers to make Hillsborough official.

4. Hillsborough’s grand estates, including Uplands, Home Place and La Dolphine, were gradually subdivided into smaller lots. In 1953, Hillsborough changed its minimum lot size to one-half acre, which explains why you’ll find no apartments, condos or businesses within its city limits.

Los Altos

1. “Ye banks and braes o’ bonnie doon…” go the lyrics that could have inspired the moniker of a Peninsula town. Although some farmers and orchardists suggested Gopher Ville, early settlers called the area Banks and Braes after the traditional Scottish song.

2. The days of Banks and Braes were numbered when Paul Shoup, a Southern Pacific Railroad Executive, partnered with friends to form the Altos Land Co. in 1906. The group purchased 140 acres between Palo Alto and Mountain View from Sarah Winchester of the “Winchester Mystery House” (AKA the widow of the inventor of the Winchester rifle).

3. Next step: Create a town to serve the new Southern Pacific Railroad line between Mayfield and Los Gatos. The developers quietly changed the name to the more dignified Los Altos, meaning “the heights,” since the location was the crown point on the rail line.

4. In the face of rumblings about Los Altos possibly being annexed by Palo Alto or Mountain View, the good people of Los Altos officially incorporated in 1952 and became the 11th city within Santa Clara County.

San Mateo

1. In 1776, Spanish explorers arrived in what’s now San Mateo to scout for a good place to start a colony. Among them was Padre Pedro Font, who named the creek that they camped by “San Mateo,” Spanish for “St. Matthew.”

2.The city of San Mateo was originally part of the Rancho de las Pulgas (literally “Ranch of the Fleas”) and the Rancho San Mateo. These large land masses were also home to what became the town of San Carlos.

3. Like many other Peninsula towns, much development came about from wealthy San Francisco folks building summer homes in San Mateo. One of the most famous residents was A.P. Giannini, founder of Bank of Italy (later known as Bank of America), who built his Seven Oaks mansion on El Cerrito Avenue.

4. In 1889, the completion of Crystal Springs Dam (i.e. quality drinking water) triggered even more growth, leading to San Mateo’s official incorporation in 1894.

Atherton

1. Thanks to an early career selling goods in South America, Faxon Dean Atherton was perfectly placed to take advantage of the Gold Rush, where he made a fortune in shipping and trading. Finally making his home in the Golden State in 1858, Atherton became one of the richest Californians, influential in all manner of business and commerce.

2. After selling his lands in Chile, Atherton purchased over 600 San Mateo County acres known as Fair Oaks in 1860 for, hold your hat, $10 per acre.

3. Atherton built his country home, Valparaiso Park, approximately where the Menlo Circus Club is today, and a string of other wealthy San Francisco folks followed him, including the Selbys, the Floods, the Macondrays, and later the Hopkins and Stanford families.

4. When Menlo Park made a move to absorb Fair Oaks lands in 1923, Fair Oaks property owners rallied to maintain their strictly residential culture. They rushed to incorporate independently but hit a snag: There was already a Fair Oaks on the books near Sacramento.

5. Calling an audible, the decision was made to name the town Atherton, in honor of the area’s preeminent first property owner and Atherton was officially incorporated on September 12, 1923.

Palo Alto

1. Palo Alto’s heritage is a bit muddled, with its patchwork of parts coming together to form the current city limits. Understanding Palo Alto’s history also reveals why it’s the only Peninsula city with two downtowns.

2. Dating back to 1855, the township of Mayfield (anchored by today’s California Avenue) was the original hub in the area. But when the great local landholder, Leland Stanford, decided to create a university following the death of his young son in 1884, he demanded that the nearby town prohibit alcohol. When saloon-heavy Mayfield declined to go “dry,” Stanford bought other land to create a new gateway for his nascent university.

3. Named after El Palo Alto, the landmark redwood tree that still stands at the corner of El Camino Real and Alma Street, the new town of Palo Alto (with University Avenue as its central artery) flourished and ultimately annexed Mayfield in 1925.

4. To trace the true historical roots of the city’s name, you have to go back to 1769’s Portolá Expedition. When the early Peninsula explorers camped out under a tall redwood tree, they referred to it as “El Palo Alto,” meaning “the tall stick.” The name clearly stuck, given that it inspired the naming of the area—and ultimately the city. (Not to mention Stanford University’s mascot.)

Half Moon Bay

1. When it comes to the oldest settlement in San Mateo County, Half Moon Bay likely takes the prize. After land grants were given to early Mexican settlers in the 1840s, the area known as San Benito was renamed “Spanishtown” because of the large number of Spanish-speaking inhabitants.

2. In 1874, Spanishtown gave way to Half Moon Bay, to honor the crescent-shaped harbor (near today’s El Granada) just up the coast from town.

3. The identity of Half Moon Bay took a twist during the Prohibition Era, when the area’s hidden coves and heavy fog provided the perfect conditions for local moonshiners and rumrunners from Canada to smuggle illegal liquor ashore.

4. Half Moon Bay was officially incorporated in 1959 and continues to boast more than 50 historical sites and buildings, dating back to the 1800s.

San Carlos

1. Here’s what we know: San Carlos (Spanish for St. Charles) was originally part of the large Rancho de las Pulgas grant made to Don José Darío Argüello in 1795, who used the land to raise cattle and crops. Doing his pops proud, Arguello’s son, Luis Arguello, became the first native-born governor of California.

2. What’s not known for certain is the original inspiration for the name. Here are three possible explanations:
● The Portola Expedition discovered San Francisco Bay on November 4, 1769, the date associated with the Feast of St. Charles (San Carlos).
● Don Gaspar de Portolá claimed this new land for the Spanish king, who happened to be King Carlos III.
● Lt. Juan Manuel de Ayala brought the first sailing ship into San Francisco Bay in 1775. The name of his trusty vessel? The San Carlos, of course.

3. Back in the 1890s, San Carlos had a population of 50. After three attempts to incorporate the city, San Carlos finally achieved its goal in 1925 (with 600 residents) thanks to the efforts of Frederick Drake, known as “The Father of San Carlos.” It was Drake who coined the town’s motto: “The City of Good Living.”

Woodside

1. Searching for San Francisco Bay, the same group of explorers led by Gaspar de Portolá came through Woodside in 1769.

2. In the 1830s, the Woodside area became home to some of the first English-speaking settlers on the Peninsula who ventured here to log the area’s rich redwood growth. Charles Brown built the first sawmill on his Mountain Home Ranch in 1839, and Brown’s adobe house still stands today.

3. During the 1849 Gold Rush, a 20-year-old lad named Mathias Alfred Parkhurst purchased 127 acres of timberland and called it… Woodside. Woodside’s lumber played a vital role in building San Francisco (and rebuilding it after the 1906 earthquake), with timber being floated up to SF from the nearby port now known as Redwood City.

4. As San Mateo County’s population took off in the 1950s, Woodside eyed the area’s rapid growth with concern. In 1956, the town voted to incorporate to preserve the rural, residential nature of the community.

Redwood City

1. What’s the oldest city on the San Francisco Peninsula? If you guessed Redwood City, you’d be right. Founded as a port town during the Gold Rush, Redwood City is the only deepwater port on San Francisco Bay south of San Francisco.

2. Situated along Redwood Creek, a channel off of the Bay, Redwood City was originally part of that same vast Rancho de Las Pulgas land grant given to the Arguello family in 1835.

3. After laying out the town in 1854, attorney Simon M. Mezes took it upon himself to find an inspired name for the new settlement. “I’ve got it!” you can imagine him saying: “Mezesville!” Apparently, not everyone was a fan.

4. When San Mateo County was formed in 1856, Redwood City was selected as the county seat, a designation that endures to this day. In 1867, Redwood City became the first city in San Mateo County to incorporate. Officially ditching Mezesville, the community instead gave props to the lumber business that drove the area’s rapid growth. (Take solace, Simon. Redwood City’s Mezes Park still carries your name.)

Portola Valley

1. Portola Valley’s name comes with a spirited adventurer behind it: Spaniard Gaspar de Portolá, the first European explorer to step foot on the Peninsula way back in 1769.

2. In the 1880s, like many industrialists of his time, Andrew Hallidie (a developer of metal wire rope and the acclaimed inventor of the cable car) built a hillside country home on the Peninsula. Hallidie’s Eagle Horse Farm comprised most of what is now considered Portola Valley.

3. In 1886, the former community of Crystal Springs (which met a watery end when the Crystal Springs dam was built) bestowed the name Portola-Crespi Valley on the area. In another shout-out to the early explorers, Juan Crespí was a Franciscan friar with the Portolá Expedition.

4. It took until 1964 for the town of Portola Valley (sans Crespi) to officially incorporate with Sunset magazine owner Bill Lane as its first mayor.

5. Bonus fact: In a spectacular demonstration of his expertise, Hallidie built a 7,341-foot aerial tramway from his home to the top of Skyline in the Santa Cruz Mountains. Sadly, no rides for current residents—it was dismantled after his death in 1900.

Words by Johanna Harlow

Have you heard tell of the wandering Commodore Watkins House? This Atherton two-story Gothic Revival home with peaked gables and ox-eye windows has reportedly traveled oceans—along with several city blocks. Our story starts with Commodore James Thomas Watkins, captain of the Pacific Mail Steamship Company. After purchasing Atherton acreage, Watkins fittingly hired ship carpenters to construct his Peninsula family home in 1866. But it wasn’t built completely on-site. One popular theory (though not officially confirmed due to the passage of time) states that parts of the home were constructed in Connecticut before being dismantled and shipped around Cape Horn. It came to roost at Fair Oaks, a property known for its majestic trees. The home’s next owner, a shipper by the name of John J. Moore, moved the house five blocks to Isabella Avenue. Several owners followed, along with renovations that maintained many of the home’s original 19th-century features. 1998 brought new owners and a new location: Alejandra Avenue. For that last half-mile journey, the 3,600-square-foot house was cut in two by Kelly Brothers House Movers and ferried down the street. Trucks from PG&E, Cable Co-op and Davey Tree Trimming prepared the route—and even the home’s neighbor, former San Francisco 49er Jerry Rice, saw the house off on its new adventure. Still maintained as a private residence today, the Commodore Watkins House is the oldest surviving home in Atherton. Listed on the National Register of Historic Places, it has more than earned a respectful nod from anyone passing by.

Words by Johanna Harlow

We all know Peninsula real estate is among the most expensive in the world. But if you’ve ever wondered what the pinnacle of the high-end market will buy you, consider Green Gables.

Comprised of seven buildings and a sweeping 74 acres, this never-before-listed historic property is now available for sale—and it wouldn’t be a stretch to refer to this Woodside treasure as “priceless.” But what does that translate to in dollars? That figure is apparently $125 million, reduced from a higher price just for you.

The Grounds

It’s hard to grasp the vastness of the estate’s park-like acreage without driving it. To reach the main house, enter the property and wind along its eucalyptus, elm and oak-lined roads—past the tennis court and tea house—past the five-million-gallon spring-fed reservoir, a rowboat on its banks—past the expansive vegetable and herb garden. Only then will you finally arrive at your destination. If you choose to circumnavigate the property’s perimeter by foot, prepare for a two-hour undertaking.

When identifying the main factors behind Green Gables’ lofty price tag, Zach Goldsmith of Hilton & Hyland points to “the sheer size of the land in such a prime location.” If Green Gables sells for its listing price, it will break the record for most expensive home ever sold in California—dethroning another Woodside property purchased by Masayoshi Son, founder of Softbank, for a cool $117.5 million.

There’s no denying the desirability of this tree-shrouded zip code. “Woodside is one of the most affluent communities in the country,” notes Zach, who is co-listing the estate with local Compass realtor duo Brad and Helen Miller. “So you’re already starting off with something that I think gives this value that’s almost unquantifiable.”

Mortimer Fleishhacker, Sr. certainly thought so. Back in 1911, this San Francisco lumber, paper, banking and hydroelectric power mogul and philanthropist bought the property to create the quintessential family summer home. “It’s protected from the fog and the coldness of the Bay,” observes Zach, “and just 20 minutes south of the City.”

And did we mention the view? “It’s not inundated with houses because most of it has been dedicated to open space,” explains realtor Helen Miller. She gestures reverentially at the vast stretch of the Santa Cruz Mountains that play backdrop to Green Gables. “There’s Huddart Park, the next range is called Teague Hill, and then there’s Wunderlich and Windy Hill.”

It doesn’t take any imagination to picture this place as an exceptional event setting, acknowledges Marc Fleishhacker, great-grandson of Mortimer. The Florence-based marketing executive currently shares the estate with the third, fourth, and fifth generations of the Fleishhacker family. “We have hosted events with over a thousand participants, and it simply never feels crowded,” he says. “There are also a myriad of quiet, private places, paths and nooks that also provide an amazing sense of intimacy to such a grand estate.”

Events at Green Gables have spanned state dinners and the United Nations 20th anniversary gala to company picnics, bar mitzvahs and weddings (including Marc’s own). The estate has played host to numerous dignitaries including the Secretary-General of the U.N., European royalty, U.S. senators, governors and business leaders. Legend has it that Emmy-Award-winning actress Michael Learned (of The Waltons) once skinny-dipped in the pool during an American Conservatory Theatre cast party. “Green Gables has seen it all,” Marc quips.

When it comes to water features, the estate touts a tranquil lily pond and not one but three swimming pools (to accommodate your every whim for a swim). “Our big swimming pool was the setting for numerous naval warfare battles with my siblings and cousins,” Marc recalls. “And gathering up the courage to jump off the brick wall was an essential rite of passage.”

Easily, the property’s most remarkable feature is its Roman reflecting pool—a football field-sized stretch of water flanked by a brick balustrade and a 50-plus-foot double staircase on one side, a hulking aqueduct-like series of stone arches evoking Old World grandeur on the other. “You feel like a caesar,” Zach describes of the breathtaking scene.

Julia Fleishhacker, Marc’s wife and design guru, fondly recalls marrying her husband here. “There simply may be no more beautiful place on earth to exchange vows,” she remarks. Marc wholeheartedly agrees. “I have traveled the world and witnessed extraordinary beauty from Tuscany to France to parts of Asia,” he adds, “yet the view of the Roman pool remains one of the world’s finest.”

Elsewhere on the estate, a sprawling vegetable and flower garden flourishes. Irrigated by the property’s own reservoir, it boasts everything from squash, onions and tomatoes to an entire medley of herbs. “With its amazing rose collection, bountiful crops of fresh produce and endless opportunities to create beautiful landscapes, it’s my favorite Green Gables playground,” professes Julia.

Another favorite place of Marc’s is the patio terrace overlooking the lily pond. On quiet mornings, residents and guests often spy deer grazing on the manicured lawn (so perfectly positioned you wonder if they’re on the payroll). “I always loved Sunday brunch with my grandparents on the terrace, looking out at the beautiful lawns, being served by the butler,” Marc reminisces, “and then darting into the kitchen so the cook could sneak me an extra piece of something delicious.”

The Main House

Arriving at Green Gables’ main house, you’re greeted by a discretely elegant two-story English manor-style building. Graced by ivy-draped walls, a gently-gabled roof and steam-bent, wave-course shingles, this turn-of-the-century house has been listed on the National Register of Historic Places since the ‘80s.

Over a century ago, Mortimer Fleishhacker, Sr. hired Greene and Greene—a firm run by renowned Craftsman-era architect partners (and brothers) Charles and Henry—to construct his family’s summer home as well as shape the surrounding landscaping. These architects paid close attention to making one flow seamlessly into the next.

“Although I was not around at the time,” Marc says, “I vividly recall the stories of how the Greene brothers would sit at the top of the hill where the main swimming pool is now located and look out at the site, sketching, planning and imagining how to structure and position the main home.” Green Gables remains their largest project—even the glazed ceramic planter pots and hand-carved furniture found around the property can be credited to the brothers.

At nearly 10,000 square feet, the main house with its nine bedrooms conveys sophistication with a minimalist approach to style. “Many of the rooms lead to outside,” comments Zach, who credits the Greene brothers with having the foresight to integrate the home with its stunning environment.

“One of the memories I cherish most is learning to play mahjong with my grandparents in the card room,” relays Marc, calling out the light-flooded corner room featuring heavy beams and intricately carved wooden accents.
Zach emphasizes the home’s great bones. “On both floors, you’ve got really wide hallways with tall ceilings that act as the main arteries going to the different wings,” he explains.

The (Visionary) Buyer

At the end of the day, the discerning buyer will also play a vital role in determining Green Gables’ inestimable worth. “It takes a great visionary,” notes Zach. He envisions a future owner who appreciates the estate’s storied past as well as the opportunity it presents. “You’ve got this rich history, but you’ve also got the canvas to paint whatever you want,” he summarizes. “You’re preserving a piece of history that can never be duplicated … that juxtaposition of the old with the new is priceless.” Marc echoes the sentiment. “I just can’t think of melding two better, more valuable worlds … I believe that all great estates evolve.”

Perhaps the estate’s next owner will establish a vineyard, golf course or equestrian grounds. “You could have riding rings on the property,” suggests Zach. “You could build some insane all-glass car garage. It lends itself to so many different types of people and personalities.”

“The soil and climate of this area of the Santa Cruz Mountain appellation is ideal for cabernet, and possibly chardonnay and pinot noir,” ventures Marc. Another possibility: a corporation might appreciate the property’s size and proximity to San Francisco and convert Green Gables into a company retreat.

Perhaps Green Gables will attract the next big tech tycoon or titan of industry. “This is a giant think tank,” Zach observes. “It just breeds thought and creativity.” Continuing along this line of thought, he notes, “I envision the next Steve Jobs walking this property shoeless. I envision the next Elon Musk coming in and thinking of the next idea that’s gonna change the world. It feels like this is the environment where that happens.”

Since the summer of 1912, the estate has served as the Fleishhacker family’s private oasis. But Marc acknowledges that it’s time for a change. “The exciting question and mystery,” he muses, “is what wonderful private moments will be created by the next fortunate owner of Green Gables?” Only time—and $125 million—will tell.

In the spirit of my namesake (that would be Guinness beer), cheers to lucky me! Lois and Dimitry are fans of the Irish stout and naturally felt like celebrating after rescuing an adorable pup at an adoption event at the Davis Farmers Market. I’m a terrier mix (with possibly some schnauzer or German shepherd), and my right floppy ear and sweet spirit instantly charmed them. It’s hard to believe that it’s been 13 years since I came home to Atherton, where Lois and Dimitry have lived for 50 years now. “Guinness has reached an old age, as have we,” I’ve heard them say, but if you spot us on our daily walks, you’ll agree that we still have “bounce” in our steps. Sure, I may have a little gray in my whiskers (and eyebrows and chest hair), but that’s what it takes to earn recognition as the most senior dog in the neighborhood. I always perk up when the leash comes out. My favorite destinations are Holbrook Palmer Park, Bedwell Bayfront Park and 43 Almendral Street. “Why 43 Almendral Street?” you ask. That’s the location of Menlo Park District Station 3, where the firefighters reward my visits with tasty treats. When I was younger, I loved to play “Catch me if you can!” Dimitry even had to miss a concert once because I escaped the yard to explore. Maybe I have slowed down a bit, but keeping stride with my family is what makes me happiest.

Words by Sharon McDonnell

Being a professor of French and Italian literature at Stanford University isn’t enough for Robert Pogue Harrison. He also hosts a podcast offering “the narcotic of intelligent conversation” ranked in the top five on literature globally by Apple Podcasts, and doubles as lead guitarist and songwriter in a rock band he formed with three other literary scholars, whose songs are inspired by the likes of Helen of Troy, Edgar Allen Poe’s Annabel Lee and the whale in Moby Dick.

Called the most significant writer in the humanities today by the Southern Humanities Review, Robert has written books about gardens, forests and death, and co-taught a Stanford class on the roots of romantic love—from Plato to medieval Arab love poetry. Born and raised in Izmir, Turkey, and Rome, he’s not dogmatic that his brainy podcast sticks to the classics alone. Past topics include internet addiction, earth-friendly landscape design, bioethics, silence, California writers, particle physics and great narrative endings. He interviews scholars and creatives for his podcast, which always includes songs by his band, Glass Wave, along with classic hits (think: The Doors, Jimi Hendrix and Jethro Tull).

Named a Chevalier of the Order of Arts and Letters by the French consulate (an honor shared with George Clooney, Sean Connery and U2’s Bono), Robert, now 68, joined the Stanford faculty in 1985, and chaired the department of French and Italian literature from 2002-2010. It’s an illustrious career for a man who once weighed two offers after high school: attend college or join a rock band in Italy. An early longform podcaster, he started Entitled Opinions back in 2005 on Stanford radio station KZSU.

 

Thanks to a tech-savvy graduate student, the podcast became available on iTunes just a few months after its launch—and continues to attract a global (and loyal) fanbase. His band, formed in 2010 with fellow Stanford professor Dan Edelstein and his brother, Thomas Harrison, a UCLA professor, released a CD, accompanied by moody videos, that same year. Since life is infinitely more interesting when you don’t limit yourself to one career (when you can have three), PUNCH switched up seats to pose questions back to this polymath podcast host.

Your podcast often starts with a disclaimer, urging that it should be “avoided by anyone who does not have a high tolerance for thinking. If you’re allergic to the exchange of ideas, if you’re deficient in curiosity, please tune out now.” That’s so refreshing in an era when many people feverishly compete to rack up as many followers and “likes” as possible. Why narrow your audience like that?

Some people say, “Stop doing it.” But I’m very moved by emails from listeners all over the world, often in provincial places, who feel cut off from intellectual conversation and starved for it, and I feel a commitment to them. I have the luxury of a job, and don’t need to make a living from Entitled Opinions, so I don’t need to dumb it down. I have no ads or sponsors. We live in a world where everyone’s always trying to sell you something. I’m not.

How do you select your podcast guests?

It’s much more important for them to be effective communicators than big names. Listeners trust me for the content. It’s necessary to make it worthwhile for them to spend an hour of their time.

When it comes to memorable podcast conversations, who makes your list?

The German filmmaker Werner Herzog, National Book Award winner Shirley Hazzard, and Rene Girard, the late Stanford professor. Girard was known for his theory of “mimetic desire,” a term he coined in 1961, after the Greek word for “imitate.” He wrote, “Our desires are not our own but other people’s desires that we imitate.” He was so prescient about social media, which is all about creating envy, always comparing yourself to other people due to constant posts of photos and brags, that my profile of him in The New York Review of Books is entitled, “The Prophet of Envy.” Peter Thiel, the Paypal co-founder and first investor in Facebook, credited Girard’s class for convincing him of the potential of the online world.

One podcast episode is on silence. You say you practice the “persecuted religion of thinking” in the “catacombs” of Stanford’s basement radio station. How do you view the link between silence and thinking?

Put time aside for silence. It’s a precondition for reflective thought and a dialogue with yourself. Free yourself from the tyranny of the world and its online chatter. Read, read, read. It’s irreplaceable. Books are an inexhaustible treasure horde to enlarge our world.

Letter-writing was the theme of another podcast episode, where your guest was an expert on 17th- and 18th-century France. Can you comment on the brevity of texts, tweets and emails today?

Everything gets impoverished and reduced to the lowest common denominator in what passes for communication today. Letters were once profoundly social, read aloud in salons, treasured and kept. Writing letters was an art form, and they required thought to write. People had to pay to receive letters in France. Rousseau put an ad in the newspaper to stop sending him letters since it cost so much money. Voltaire, the most famous man in Europe in the 18th century, wrote over 15,000 letters.

Your book, Gardens: An Essay on the Human Condition, traces their importance in mythology, religion and culture down through the centuries, from the Garden of Eden to Zen rock gardens. How would you summarize the role of gardens?

Gardens are a sanctuary from the frenetic and destructive forces of history, places of care and cultivation that people create to see and hear the oneness of nature. They can go a long way to heal psychic wounds.

Which gardens would you consider your favorites?

On the Stanford campus, the Papua New Guinea sculpture garden, where entire trees were carved by visiting artisans. Internationally, the Villa Cimbrone in Ravello, on Italy’s Amalfi Coast.

What events would you describe as major turning points in your life?

My father died when I was 12, so we moved to Rome, where my Italian mother’s family lived. It left something of a void. When I was 14, I saw Jimi Hendrix in concert. It was hard to be an ordinary bourgeois after that. My brother and I started immersing ourselves in music and poetry and formed a rock band with two other guys. We played gigs in our late teens at clubs and weddings all over Rome. There was a lot of demand since we were an Anglo band.

How did your band Glass Wave get formed?

Dan Edelstein and I decided to bring our musical instruments to class at Stanford, take some well-known songs and change the lyrics to be about Homer, Ovid, etc. Then, we thought it would be fun to compose our own songs. The music or mood came first. Then, we’d think, “What lyrics?” and go into the literary canon to find a match. A mournful melody became Poe’s Annabel Lee.

In “Children of Silicon Valley,” your essay in The New York Review of Books, you inveigh against how people today trade reality for miniature screens. What’s your advice on how to resist the magnetic allure of our electronic devices?

One of the most effective ways is to enter into nature and devise a connection with the natural world in all its full-blown, 3D exuberance. It’s just so comforting. Today the big divide is, do we live in the world or on a 2D screen?

Join the Conversation

entitledopinions.stanford.edu

Words by Kevin Marks

If you’ve ever traveled down the YouTube wormhole, you know the feeling. Suddenly, it’s 2AM and you’re watching obscure SNL sketches from the early ’80s, temporarily forgetting all about the looming 7AM Zoom call. If you happen to be in need of another unexpected and wholly intoxicating internet maelstrom, behold bringatrailer.com—the premier online auction marketplace for auto enthusiasts, collectors, wrenchers, road warriors and gearheads. Here, you can place a bid for a ’79 Volvo 240 wagon for $7K or a rear-engine Ford GT that looks like a spacecraft for $1 million. If unconventional is your style, you can also find go-karts, tractors and race cars—or perhaps a Norton motorcycle that served the British Fire Service in WWII.

Behind it all is Menlo Park car nut Randy Nonnenburg, who co-founded Bring a Trailer (BaT) in 2007 with longtime friend and Stanford classmate Gentry Underwood. The two hit it off in the early 2000s after Gentry enlisted Randy’s help to find a 1963 Corvette for his father. Randy had always found solace searching the internet for cars, so it was a natural ask.

“Some people watch TV or read novels; I like to surf online and look for cars for sale,” he explains. “It’s always been my decompression, my therapy.”
Gentry recognized the uniqueness of Randy’s skills, which at the time felt more like a hobbyist’s bliss than a professional aptitude. So impressed with Randy’s ability to not only find cars but assess the machines and their sellers, Gentry floated the idea that this was a service people would pay for.

Randy thought he was crazy. Although cars were clearly his passion, he envisioned a more conventional path. “I was working for BMW and going to business school,” he recounts, “and doing all these things with a career in the auto industry in mind.”

It took about a year for Gentry to convince Randy he should write about cars and start a blog. In a nod to the familiar callout in classified listings urging buyers to “Bring a Trailer!” to load up their purchase, Randy began highlighting one car a day. What began as a simple site fueled by auto fever and the desire to help friends find quality cars grew into a pulsating online community of nearly a million people. Touted as a market disruptor, BaT became the go-to place to buy and sell classic, collector and enthusiast vehicles. It became so successful, in fact, that the company caught the attention of Hearst Autos, which acquired the site in 2020.

“Hearst helped us fortify our business, and they haven’t really messed with the forward-facing website or the product,” says Randy of the partnership. He’s emphatic that the soul of BaT has remained intact. “It really is a Cinderella story. You hear all the time in Silicon Valley about investors who come in and gut the team and do all these terrible things,” he says, “but our story has been so positive.”

Perhaps one of the biggest charms of BaT is that it remains a uniquely beguiling presence on the internet. Even if you’re not an auto enthusiast, and don’t know the difference between a Targa and a Carrera, or the purpose of a limited-slip rear differential, there’s something soothing and inspiring about seeing these beautiful pieces of machinery so lovingly cared for, photographed, preserved and written about. As we wade through the sameness of Tesla after Tesla in the Bay Area, BaT serves as a reminder that the automobile can be cultural and visceral, not just functional.

Though the Bay Area is more known for software than soft tops, Randy credits his home turf with providing a unique lens through which to view cars and car culture. “My love for cars was really intertwined with my love for the area I grew up in,” he says, noting that the region’s much-touted Mediterranean climate makes it the perfect place to own cars. There’s zero danger of rusting out from moisture and snow, or being baked to a crisp by punishing heat.

After spending his early years in Saratoga, Randy moved up the Peninsula, where “garages and side streets were just filled with interesting cars, all the time,” he observes. “Where I live and where I grew up matters to the story, and that’s really cool.” And although Randy has watched some local roads turn into a maze of FasTrak billboards and creeping infrastructure traffic, he points out that it’s still an epic place to drive.

“Northern California is known for great roads. People come from far and wide to drive sports cars in Northern California because of the hills and windy roads, the coast and Highway 1,” he says. “If you live on a grid in Phoenix, it’s just a very different use case for cars. I kind of lucked out and won the lottery with where I was born.”

When you’re heading westbound on 92 in the weekend standstill, that is certainly something to keep in mind. Take a moment to drink in the hills, the sky and the smell of the sea in the distance, and remember… we get to drive in automobile heaven.

Car Geek-Out

bringatrailer.com

Words by Sloane Citron

We have this down now, going to see a ball game at Oracle Park. We try to go on specific nights at specific times, with no interest whatsoever in the opposing team. In fact, the worse the team the Giants are playing, the better for us: lower ticket prices, easier parking and fewer fans.

We go only a few times each year, not so much because we care about the Giants these days (or their rather annoying manager Gabe Kaplan) but for the experience. It’s not so different from playing golf, where you can spend quality time with someone you care about. I used to take each of the kids, but now with moves from the area, childcare wrangling and various conflicts, my consistent seatmates are my oldest son Josh and his son Evan Joseph. (I have to write the Joseph part since he was named after my mother, Josephine.)

Evan is about to turn four—and so how and when we go to the games is designed with him in mind.

The games start at 6:45PM and we leave Josh’s home in San Mateo at five o’clock sharp. With little traffic and no lines to get into the parking lot, we walk toward the stadium by 5:30. Dressed warmly, Evan loves it when we do “1-2-3 swing,” flinging him up into the air.

The first challenge is climbing the three large flights of stairs right inside the stadium, but we do it slowly and Evan is always proud of his accomplishment. We intentionally arrive a good hour-plus prior to the game’s start since the game is the least important part of this adventure. Though our seats are behind home base, we head off to the right and along the top of the outfield.

Our first stop is the old trolley car in right field. Evan is a train fanatic and though this is not a train, it’s close enough. We jump on board, climbing through it, examining new things each time. We wander over to the area where you can see the marina below and spend a good amount of time admiring the hundreds of vessels tied up and the inevitable three or four boats out on the water.

Our slow walk takes us to the large slide underneath the giant baseball glove in left field. I always encourage Evan to go down the slide, but he, the very cautious one, will have nothing to do with it. After staring down the hole at the top of the slide, with no end in sight, I can hardly blame him.

We then slowly make our way through the corridor behind the seats, smelling the aroma of freshly-made popcorn and hamburgers. To his credit, Evan doesn’t pester us for anything, content to watch all that is around him.

By around 6:30 we are in our seats looking out at the final preparations for the game. They announce the line-ups, discuss the starting pitchers, hold some on-field ceremonies which, unfortunately, no one watches, and then we stand for the national anthem.

Josh, always an early eater, then takes leave of Evan and me and heads out on a food run. Most nights it’s pizza or Mexican food and a $10 Coke. Though we have tried, we cannot find a carton of milk anywhere in the stadium. Evan is a good eater and finally takes enough “big” bites to guarantee him dessert: ice cream. Meanwhile, Evan searches the field for the Giants’ mascot, Lou Seal, but he is nowhere to be found.

The three of us sit there in the cool air of the stadium, feeling connected, embraced, calm. I appreciate the time with my son and my oldest grandchild. I try my best to take a moment to be grateful, and I know how lucky I am.

After the Giants’ first at bat, I head off to find my own dinner (usually with a side of fries to share with Evan and Josh). At some point, I buy cotton candy from one of the vendors to take home to my daughter Tali, who loves the sugary treat. Evan always gets a special bite of this.

After we’ve watched the game for a bit over an hour (usually we make it through the third inning), it’s time to get going, since it’s already past Evan’s bedtime. As we are among the first to leave, they must open a special door for us and remind us that we cannot re-enter. As we make our way to the car, we pass fans just arriving to the game.

It is always a great night when I’m able to share it with those I love in a setting that is at once new and also terribly nostalgic. Once on the highway, we hear the gentle snores of Evan in his car seat as we drive home, and it reminds me of the joy I had taking my own kids to games when they were small. And now it is especially poignant to be able to share this sweetness with the next generation.

Words by Lexi Friesel

Nestled in the middle of a Menlo Park neighborhood sits a grand white building with an unusual and colorful past. Coleman Mansion has served as a home, school, movie set and even… the backdrop for a ghost story. In 1882, the mansion was designed by esteemed architect Augustus Laver for Maria O’Brien Coleman, the sister of successful businessman William S. O’Brien. After two long years of construction, the Italianate structure was complete with 22 rooms, a porch, arches, large windows, Corinthian columns and elaborate molding. Interior details included a grand staircase, marble decor and luxury chandeliers. Coleman intended to present the mansion as a wedding gift to her son, James Valentine Coleman, an accomplished assemblyman, and his wife Carmelita. However, the couple never enjoyed their stately new home, as a loaded revolver (accidentally?) discharged and killed Carmelita in 1885. Some claim that Carmelita’s spirit still haunts the building and sightings have been reported of a silhouette wearing a green, translucent gown in the attic. In 1905, James Coleman sold the mansion and its land, and the property was divided into the Menlo Oaks neighborhood. Aside from the removal of its signorial tower, the mansion remained essentially the same. In 1929, Josephine Duveneck and a small group of parents (including Stanford faculty members) purchased the Coleman Mansion and some of the surrounding land to house the Peninsula School, which was founded in 1925. Serving preschool to 8th grade students, Peninsula School maintains its original mission to this day, offering a progressive educational approach focused on child-centered, experiential learning. Coleman Mansion also carries the unique distinction of being featured in the 1975 fantasy sci-fi movie Escape to Witch Mountain. Some Peninsula School students even appeared as extras in the popular Disney film.

In the spirit of Halloween, I’ve never understood why black cats get such a bad rap. I do know that my Menlo Park family count themselves lucky to have brought a black miniature poodle into their home. Namely, me. Hopper. In 2018, a family friend discovered me at Love & Second Chances Rescue and instantly knew I belonged with Peter and Jaime. Back then, I was known as “Chase” because I kept escaping from my foster homes. Once I settled in, it never occurred to me to run away again, and Peter and Jaime decided to rename me after their favorite artist, Edward Hopper. Here’s the funny coincidence: It didn’t take long for them to realize I have this amazing ability to hop and jump. When they gave me my first dog treat, I began to spin around on my hind legs to show my appreciation. To this day, I have a whole “bone dance” routine I do before I gobble down a yummy snack. With my dark eyes, it’s sometimes hard to tell what I’m thinking. I show my feelings by being extra snuggly, and my family calls me “the light of their lives.”

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.