coastalzoneca.com

California Saves the World: Vitis californica to be Exact

My excuse for red wine consumption is my genealogical tie to the roots of California’s wine heritage. Some of my ancestors came to California from France (via the entire width of North America) to establish an outpost of their Utopian colony – a 19th century philosophically inspired society known as Icaria. They were French immigrants seeking political and societal freedom from the upheaval of the French Revolution, and they succeeded in establishing the only non-religious, egalitarian intentional colony in the United States. In 1800’s rural Sonoma County they established a community of homes, gathering halls, a schoolhouse, and an extensive farm. Being French, and being Sonoma, grape growing was of course involved. If the colony hadn’t fallen to financial strains, with members trickling down into Marin County, San Francisco and beyond, I’d like to think we’d be rolling in the dough of successful multi-generational viticulture.. But alas – all that is left of us and grape growing is a California State Historic Marker at the site where the Icarian farm and schoolhouse once stood, along an oak-lined frontage road outside Cloverdale, with Icarian Creek running quietly through the still rural countryside.

I love the following story of how a native California vine destroyed the competition (literally), and then saved all wine grapes of the world from extinction:

From the U.S. Forest Service online plant database:

California wild grape is of great importance to wine industries throughout the world. This species was used to save the European wine industry between 1870 and 1900 when most wine grapes (Vitis vinifera) were killed by leaf- and root-attacking grape phylloxera aphids (Daktulosphaira vitifoliae). Since that time, nearly all commercial wine grapes grown anywhere in the world have been grafted onto rootstocks of resistant California wild grape cultivars.

Riparian vegetation provides important habitat for wildlife. California wild grape is among the most valuable of the riparian plant species. As well as providing cover, it is an important animal food. The fruits are a fall staple for many animal species, including coyote, opossum, western spotted skunk, striped skunk, wood duck, band-tailed pigeon, California quail, mountain bluebird, and other passerines. Black-tailed deer browse the leaves and young stems. Additionally, it is browsed by all classes of domestic livestock.

California wild grape is endemic to southern Oregon and California. It is distributed in the Coast Ranges from Douglas County, Oregon, south to San Luis Obispo County, California; in the Klamath Mountains, the Cascade Range, and the Sierra Nevada from Siskiyou to Kern counties, California; and in the Central Valley California wild grape is a conspicuous vine of riparian forests and woodlands. It is a minor to major component of valley oak (Quercus lobata) riparian, mixed-oak riparian, Fremont cottonwood (Populus fremontii), black cottonwood (P. trichocarpa), cottonwood-willow, mixed-hardwood riparian, red alder (Alnus rubra), and white alder (A. rhombifolia) communities. It may dominate the lower and midstories and reach into the canopy, particularly in valley oak and Fremont cottonwood forests. The following classifications name California wild grape as a dominant in community types:

Tree associates of California wild grape not listed in Distribution and Occurrence include California black walnut (Juglans hindsii), California sycamore (Platanus racemosa), interior live oak (Quercus wislizenii), California box elder (Acer negundo var. californicum), Oregon ash (Fraxinus latifolia), California bay (Umbellularia californica), and California buckeye (Aesculus californica).

Common shrub associates are Mexican tea (Chenopodium ambrosoides), California blackberry (Rubus vitifolius), coyote bush (Baccharis pilularis var. consanguinea), California wild rose (Rosa californica),
valley willow (Salix hindsiana), and arroyo willow (S. lasiolepis) Dutchman's pipe vine (Aristolochia californica), poison-oak (Toxicodendron diversilobum), and wild clematis (Clematis spp.) are vine
associates.

Groundcover associates include Bermuda grass (Cynodon dactylon), holly fern (Polystichum lonchitis), and blue vervain (Verbena hastata).

California wild grape is planted for riparian restoration. It is easily started from cuttings and shows favorable rates of establishment. Containerized cuttings transplanted onto the north banks of the Crescent Bypass and the South Fork of the Kings River showed less than 2 percent mortality after 2 years

http://www.fs.fed.us/database/feis/plants/vine/vitcal/all.html

From the “Winepros” website:

In 1863, species of native American grapes were taken to Botanical Gardens in England. These cuttings carried a species of root louse called phylloxera vastatrix which attacks and feeds on the vine roots and leaves. Phylloxera is indigenous to the Mississippi River Valley and was unknown outside North America at the time. Powdery mildew, a fungal disease, also indigenous to North America, had previously migrated to Europe and caused problems in some areas. No one, however, had any idea of the wide-reaching destructive potential of Phylloxera.

Native American varieties developed resistance to phylloxera by evolving a thick and tough root bark, so that they were relatively immune to damage. The vinifera vines had no such evolutionary protection and phylloxera ate away at their roots, causing them to rot and the plant to die and driving the pests to seek other nearby live hosts, spreading inexorably through entire vineyards and on to others.

By 1865, phylloxera had spread to vines in Provence. Over the next 20 years, it inhabited and decimated nearly all the vineyards of Europe. Many methods were attempted to eradicate phylloxera: flooding, where possible, and injecting the soil with carbon bisulfide, had some success in checking the louse, but were costly and the pests came back as soon as the treatments stopped.

Finally Thomas Munson, a horticulturist from Dennison, Texas, realized that native American vines were resistant and suggested grafting the vinifera vines onto riparia hybrid rootstocks. So, there began a long, laborious process of grafting every wine vine in Europe over to American rootstocks. It was only in this manner that the European wine industry could be retrieved from extinction. Downy mildew, another fungal disease in American grapevines, unfortunately probably migrated to Europe on some of the rootstocks imported for grafting. One tragic consequence of the Phylloxera devastation is that many of the native species indigenous to Europe, since they were of negligible commercial value, were not perpetuated by grafting and became extinct.

http://www.winepros.org/wine101/history.htm

Napa Valley and Napa River Conservation and History Resources

http://www.naparcd.org/index.html
Napa County Resource Conservation District
“Promoting responsible watershed management through voluntary community stewardship and technical assistance since 1945”
Amazing work getting done by these guys

http://baynature.org/articles/apr-jun-2011/CLN/big-plans-for-wild-lands
Bay Nature Magazine article
“Big Plans for Wild Lands - A New Vision for Biodiversity”
In depth look at effort to preserve and link contiguous wild lands from Napa County and beyond. Napa County Resource Conservation District heavily involved

http://www.sustainablewinegrowing.org/
California Sustainable Winegrowers Alliance
I don’t have a lot of background on this group, or their track record.. but it’s worth a look. I’d love to hear if anyone has insight on how the CSWA is performing in real life.

http://www.bohemian.com/bohemian/08.03.11/feature-1131.html
North Bay Bohemian – “Battling Mono - Over 90 percent of our cultivated land is vineyards, causing cries of 'monoculture.' But what is monoculture, and why is it such a bad thing?”

http://www.bohemian.com/bohemian/01.26.11/feature-1104.html
North Bay Bohemian - “The Wrath of Grapes - How a Goldman Sachs executive is helping to kill Mark West Creek— and what the county isn't doing about it”

http://cork.shotwellco.com/
100% Cork.org.
I don’t have a lot of background on this group, or their track record.. but it’s worth a look. I’d love to hear if anyone has insight on this group and the environmental reality of cork harvesting. The web address is under the “Shotwell Corporation” – not sure what that is about.

http://bancroft.berkeley.edu/ROHO/projects/prohibition/
America’s Wine: The Legacy of Prohibition - documentary
“This documentary offers an unprecedented overview of the legacy of National Prohibition and its continuing impact on the wine industry and everyday lives of Americans. Marking the 75th Anniversary of Prohibition’s Repeal, it brings to life never-before-seen archival photographs and film clips, and features nearly forty interviews including those who experienced Prohibition, historians, winemakers, members of Congress, and public policy experts. Among those filmed are Kevin Starr, California Librarian Emeritus, Leon Panetta, former Chief of Staff for President Bill Clinton, as well as legendary winemakers Brother Timothy, Robert Mondavi, and Ernest Gallo. The interviews chronicle the rebuilding of the wine industry and the emergence of a new American wine culture. Equally significant are the insights fueling the continuing societal debate over the issue of alcohol in America.”

http://www.napahistory.org/
Napa County Historic Society

http://napavalleymuseum.org/?page_id=23
Napa Valley Museum – History and nature collections

http://www.sharpsteen-museum.org/
The Sharpsteen Museum of Calistoga History
Fun museum in an impressive historic building in the heart of Calistoga. Packed full of Victorian-era household and ranching items, as well as an impressive collection of American Indian artifacts. Cool diorama and mural of old Calistoga on display.

http://legacy.sfei.org/napawatershed/historicalecology.htm
Napa River Watershed Historical Ecology Project
Atlas of ecology and land use history of the Napa River and its tributaries. San Francisco Estuary Institute always does a fabulous job of scientific historic ecology research.

Playland at the Beach

Playland, San Francisco

At the northwestern edge of the peninsula now known as San Francisco, once lay a remote wild land of enormous weather beaten beaches – broad, black-sands extending southward into an ever present mist and frigid winds, and backed by a range of endless dunes.. Dunes dotted with coastal prairie, dune scrub, small stunted thickets of dwarfed coastal trees, even ponds and wetlands encircled by reeds and willows. California Indians were present for centuries, and intimate with this landscape as is evident in the large midden sites and shell mounds found at both ends of this coastal expanse, and dotting the ancient dunes lining this shore.

With the onslaught of white settlers to the peninsula at the explosion of the California gold rush, an area at the northern end of these dunes and scrub was settled by the homeless, and a shanty town emerged amongst the sands to be known as “Mooneysville”. The eastern shores of the peninsula were bursting with the ballooning population of a new city, and San Franciscans became more eager for the opportunity of recreation, and to explore the wild western shores past the City limits. At the end of the 19th century small railroads were built making this journey more accessible and appealing to the masses. The shanty town was replaced with attractions, which began to sprout up at the edge of “Ocean Beach”. Soon after the turn of the 20th century these attractions were centralized, and an amusement park was born.

Playland at the Beach was torn down in 1972, after decades of operation as a weird and wild fantasy world of games and rides and urban legends born of questionable behaviors by its patrons. I was too young to have any recollection of the iconic Playland – but its ghost still intrigues old and new fans of the park. There is a great museum across the Bay in El Cerrito known as Playland Not at the Beach – featuring much of the park’s memorabilia. In 2010 a comprehensive documentary of San Francisco’s favorite amusement park was released – Remembering Playland – which is definitely worth a viewing. An interview with the film maker, Tom Wyrsch was aired on National Public Radio on KQED’s Forum, and featured wonderful stories and memories of Playland at the Beach by listeners who called in to the show.

Below are details and links to the Playland Not at the Beach museum, the Remembering Playland documentary, and the Remembering Playland interview and radio show. I have also included a link to the article in the San Francisco Chronicle from March 4th, 2011 entitled SF’s Ocean Beach Plan to be Shored-Up. Enjoy:

Playland Not at the Beach museum in El Cerrito, California:
http://www.playland-not-at-the-beach.org/

Remembering Playland documentary: http://www.garfieldlaneproductions.com/

Remembering Playland interview and radio show on National Public Radio – KQED Forum, March 19th, 2010: http://www.kqed.org/a/forum/R201003191000

SF’s Ocean Beach Plan to be Shored Up – San Francisco Chronicle – March 4th, 2011:
http://www.sfgate.com/cgi-bin/article.cgi?f=/c/a/2011/03/04/MNGM1I1O92.DTL

Old Time Baseball on the Coast

Ever wonder what happened to the San Francisco Seals, the Oakland Oaks, Mission Reds, Hollywood Stars, Portland Beavers, Seattle Rainiers, Tacoma Tigers, Sacramento Solons, or the Hawaii Islanders? Any clue where the term “sandlot” came from?

Professional west coast baseball really got going with the formation of the Pacific Coast Baseball League in 1903. It spanned the decades from 1903 to 1958 as a league a cut above all other minor leagues in the country. With no major leagues on the west coast to compete with, and drawing from a pool of strong talent, the quality of play on the Pacific Coast League was very high. The PCL introduced Joe DiMaggio, Ted Williams, and many others to the world. In 1952, the Pacific Coast League became the only minor league in history to be given the "open" classification, a step above the AAA level. This limited the rights of major league clubs around the country to draft players from the PCL only, and was seen as a step toward the PCL becoming a third major league.

But the shift to the “open” classification came just as minor league teams from coast to coast suffered a sharp drop in attendance, most likely due to the new phenomenon of television broadcasts of major league games. The final blow to the Pacific Coast League came in 1958 when the Brooklyn Dodgers moved to Los Angeles, and the New York Giants moved to San Francisco. The League now reverted to AAA classification and declined in the public eye to just another minor league.

The original teams and stadiums of the Pacific Coast League no longer exist, but there is still a Pacific Coast League featuring great minor league ball, spanning the west and southeastern United States. None of the original teams are still on the California coast, but with a bit of a drive into the Central Valley you can still catch the Fresno Grizzlies or the Sacramento River Cats do their thing.

We love attending local country minor league baseball. You may be in the bleachers, on your lawn chair, or sitting on a bale of hay – but that’s what it’s all about. Our favorites were the Sonoma Crushers who played in the Western Baseball League at Crusher’s Stadium in Rhonert Park – Sonoma County. The Western Baseball League fell apart due to financial and political problems a few years ago, and the stadium was torn down, and replaced by – surprise – a mall. Kevin Mitchell was the last coach for the Crushers, and would cruise up in his chauffeured golf cart to sign autographs for kids waiting along the fence. The players were top notch, the nights were warm, the fans were enthusiastic, and the mascot was hilarious. We sure miss those days, but a new north coast league, the Wine Country Baseball League, has sprung-up in it’s place featuring the Sonoma Crushers and several other teams from Sonoma and Napa Counties. You can check their schedule at: winecountrybaseball.com.

Another great coastal baseball league playing quality amateur ball at small parks along the north coast is the Redwood Empire Baseball League. Check them out at: rebl.org

I’d like more info about central and south coast minor, amateur, and AAA leagues out there playing this summer – so write in and let us know: coastalzoneca@gmail.com. Anyhow – back to the Sandlot: In 1858 a triangular piece of land crested by a hill of sand at the site of the present Civic Center of San Francisco was designated as a cemetery. Ten years later the San Francisco Board of Supervisors was authorized to remove the dead, level the sand hill, and use the land for a park. By 1870 the city needed the location for a new city hall, but in the interim the “Sand Lot” as it was then called, became the training ground for local baseball players. San Francisco sportswriters coined the word “sandlotters” to describe these young athletes, and the usage spread rapidly, so that by the end of the century it was applied to amateur and semi-professional baseball players everywhere.

Ancestral Journey to the Farallones

Hans Heiner (upper left on deck) and Family, Redwood City, CA
ca. 1890

North side, Farallon Islands

In the darker hours of night, the tiny pulsing of the distant Farallon Island lighthouse could be seen from my childhood living room windows. I sat backwards on our sofa, facing out to sea with chin resting on my folded arms, leaning forward against the couch back, face close to the cold window, gazing into the black and counting the seconds between the flashes. What we knew about the islands as kids, was only that there were sharks there... and lots of seals. And if you took a boat to the Farallones you would see a shark eating a seal. We also knew that the island was impossibly far away, and only bird watchers went there for some reason. What I didn’t know about the Farallones was that one day I would fall in love with a resident researcher, that I would have the privilege of escaping to the island from the difficulties of my adult life for a week at a time, and that my great, great grandfather – a Danish sailor – once collided with those islands, a shipwreck that would lead to the settlement of he and his family in San Francisco – thus allowing me to rest my chin on the couch back, gazing out the window 100 years later.

The ocean is one of those things in life where the more experience you have with it, and the more familiar you get with it, the more scared, humbled, and cautious you become in its presence. There’s no other way to learn this from the ocean, but the hard way. And if you don’t learn quick you might end up dead, or wanting to move east. The boat trips I took to the Farallon Islands taught me this. Quickly. They are fun stories to tell now, but at the time they were uncomfortable and anxious experiences at best. The only reason I kept coming back for more was because I was in love, and it was the only way to see my boyfriend... and the only way to escape. The Farallones have provided an escape for small waves of adventurous people for over 100 years. Some appreciated the solitude and extremely rugged environment, some profited from the loneliness of the islands, and others hated it. I’m not sure what my great, great grandfather Hans “Henry” Emil felt about the place, but I’m glad he saw it, and I’m glad he survived.

White shark feeding at the Farallones, P. Pyle

A compromise I reached with the sea, in exchange for regularly tempting its fate in crossing the extremely unpredictable and rough stretch of water between the San Francisco Bay Area and the Farallon Islands, was to pick my days and pick my vessel. The boat of choice was the Superfish, skippered by Mick Menigoz. A large sport boat with strong motors and a level-headed captain. This made for a quick passage generally, but even on the Superfish we had our days. (see my article in Wahine Magazine, “Passing Through”).

Other challenging trips to the Farallones for me included a ride out on an open 13-foot Boston Whaler with no seats in 15-foot seas, which we met head-on as soon as we made that westward turn from the Bay and headed out under the Golden Gate Bridge. The only thing that saved me from extreme fright on that trip was extreme sea sickness. Once outside the Gate we found that our marine radio didn’t work, leaving us with no method of communications in case of an emergency, or with the island, which was somewhere out beyond the breaking waves in front of us. For four hours we caught air off each swell, only to find the landing boom at the Farallones (necessary for lifting personnel onto the island) had broken that morning and was barely patched together with just enough spit to lift me out of the water and up to salvation on dry land. The two guys that took me out in that tiny, open boat had to turn right around and do it all again for at least a few more hours in rising swells, in order to get back home before dark. Somehow they made it, and it took me a couple of days on the couch to completely recover from the ordeal.

There were other hairy trips: one with an aged, one-eyed skipper and his yacht club, wine-glass-clinking friends. Errors in judgment took us on a “tour” of the island, circling around the most treacherous areas of the Farallones, heading into the wrong end of terrible sea conditions – waves cresting at the side of the cruiser, but somehow never quite breaking over us. A gray whale was nearly struck by the boat on that round-island tour. No one seemed to notice anything except me, and all I could eventually do was sit down and hold on in the lowest spot mid-deck, as the biologists on the island attempted frantically to hail the captain on the radio and tell him to turn back – to no avail.

Billy Pugh (landing boom) at the Farallones

The stories go on, and mine are by no means the worst. I can’t imagine what my great, great grandfather saw in his many schooner trips around the world – through many seas and seasons. I can’t imagine the emotions one goes through when your ship runs aground, let alone during a devastating shipwreck. I try not to think about it. My curiosity has led me, however, to try to find out the details of this boat he was on, and its encounter with the island. Our family stories of the wreck were by now at least fifth-hand/fifth-generation accounts, with no hard facts. Maybe it never happened, but it was a good story worth investigating.

I began my research in earnest online. I only knew the year, but not the name of the boat, or what position Henry held on-board, other than that he was one of the top mates or steersmen. It would have been about 1871, and a large merchant ship heading-in from the south I assumed. Online I found the California State Lands Commission Shipwreck Database, and a good spreadsheet of all shipwrecks that have occurred near the Golden Gate posted by the Gulf of the Farallones National Marine Sanctuary. All the dates so far were a decade too early or a decade too late. Ships with names like the Bessie Everding, the Beeswing, the Franconia, Lucas, and Noonday were listed as: “foundered”, “stranded”, “lost” or “all hands saved”. Most were wrecked along the north coast’s mammoth rocky reefs and submerged sand bars. A few had met their fate at the Farallon Islands. Nothing matched perfectly. But one, the Annie Sise, was listed as running aground in Marin in 1871– with no other details.

I dove into our copy of The Farallon Islands: Sentinels of the Golden Gate by Peter White, and online I encountered a handful of other intriguing titles, including Shipwrecks at the Golden Gate. From historic ecology research projects I had conducted in the past, I knew the San Francisco Public Library’s main branch had a wonderful history room, so I got off the computer and headed down to The City to do some real digging. The main branch is palatial, and I dropped off my mom in the library’s second floor at the poetry section, and headed on upstairs to the archives. Investigating several different resource angles that day, I was able to determine that the Annie Sise had in fact run aground on the Farallones! It was 1871, and all hands were saved. Also, it was the only wreck on the Farallon Islands that year, so it was a good bet that was his ship. I then spent hours reviewing microfilm of the four newspapers printed in San Francisco during 1871, in hopes of uncovering a record of the incident: The Daily Alta California, The San Francisco Chronicle, The San Francisco Daily Morning Call, and The Daily Evening Bulletin. Finally, in the Daily Alta California I found the following:

September 18th, 1871,
“The Wreck of the Annie Sise”
Captain Howland of the ship Governor Morton, upon his arrival yesterday, reported a ship ashore on the South Farallone Islands. Upon the United States Steamer Wayonda proceeding to the islands, it proved to be the ship Annie Sise, previously reported as having been lost on Point Reyes. The commander of the Wayonda presented the following report:
“Parties on the Farallone Islands gave the following account of the wreck; They saw the ship Annie Sise ashore on the west end reef, South Farallone Islands, on Friday at 6:10pm. She had all sails set, and anchors hanging by shank painters. The ship did not go to pieces until sometime during the night of the 16th. The report having found the ships log and chronometer boxes, but the chronometers were gone. The cabin was well cleared out. Two boats were lashed on deck and two boats gone.”

It was reported in the Daily Alta California on September 17th, regarding the same wreck:

“All hands left the ship in two boats, and reached the bar at 2:00 a.m. yesterday, where they fell in with the schooner John and Samuel, hence for Point New Year, whose master, Captain Borrill, kindly took the crew on board and landed all hands safely in the City, where they arrived at nine o’clock in the morning…”

It turns out that this trip of the merchant ship, Annie Sise, originated in New York, and she sailed around the globe reaching California via Australia along her trade route. I have researched several other resources including the Port of San Francisco records and archives, and the National Archives in hopes of finding the ships log or crew list from this voyage. All of the Port of San Francisco’s passenger-arrival records from 1850 – 1907 were lost in a fire at the Angel Island’s records facility in 1940. If I want to find a crew list for the Annie Sise it will need to turn up some other way, most likely from out of state, and most likely by luck or by chance.. but I haven’t given up. For now, I’m placing my bets Hans Emil was aboard that ship when she ran aground on the Farallones 139 years ago.

California’s Marine Labs

Pacific Biological Laboratories, Monterey, CA

To those with the ocean bug, marine biology labs are more than just classrooms and workshops - they are treasure chests, enticing in their mystique, exciting and abounding with odd possibilities. The sounds of the pumps and rushing water, the humming tanks, the elaborate work stations and sinks, the posters on the walls of exaggerated and colorful marine life you could only imagine seeing in the flesh, the cool air, salty smells and wet floors, the artifacts of the beach rack and old seaside dump sites decorating the window sills and high shelves. There are many fine marine labs along the California coast, several affiliated with prestigious academic institutions such as the UC Davis Bodega Marine Lab, The Romberg Tiburon Center affiliated with San Francisco State University, and the UC Santa Cruz Long Marine Lab. Here I will be focusing on two smaller labs – both of extreme historic significance, unique character and mystique, and both served to influence and change the lives of many kids, students, and visitors in similar magic ways.

Edward Ricketts

Pacific Biological Laboratories

Pacific Biological Laboratories – Monterey
I thought I’d take a simple little trip to Monterey and write a neat little piece on the historic Pacific Biological Laboratories of Ed Ricketts – the place that inspired the creation of the Monterey Bay Aquarium, served as the center piece in John Steinbeck’s classic novel, Cannery Row, and has inspired multiple generations of marine biology lovers and professionals since the 1920’s. But now I don’t know where to start. It’s three days later and I’m still in a weird bittersweet fog.. like I’ve been thrown back in time myself. I have a thing for Ed Ricketts even though he died tragically 21 years before I was born. There, I said it. Call the loony bin. The era in which he lived, where he lived, and how he lived his life hold a deep mystique and great significance that cannot be duplicated. What a time it must have been.

I didn’t expect to find the site of Pacific Biological Laboratories where it is: Front and center on the Cannery Row stage - squished between two massive ex-canneries (one now a luxury hotel) right at the water’s edge and practically adjoining the Monterey Bay Aquarium. I thought I’d find the lab up the hill in the old neighborhoods for some reason... I must have walked by it 10 times over the years in my visits to Monterey for meetings or to go to the aquarium. I parked the truck in the shade for my dog, fed the meter a zillion quarters, and jogged down the ragged east end of Cannery Row toward my destination. I wanted to make sure to catch the next hourly tour of the lab at noon. Open only once or twice a year to the public, in cooperation with the Cannery Row Foundation, Pacific Biological Laboratories is a hot commodity not easily acquired. I’ve been trying to find a way to see it for years, and now I finally will.

I swerve through throngs of tourists meandering Cannery Row on a sunny and crisp Saturday morning. There it is up ahead, in all its dwarfed and rustic beauty. I slow my approach to read a handwritten sign stapled below the stairwell advertising the hourly tours. No one is around so I better hurry in. I start to jog up the wooden stairs toward the old front door, and it hits me. It feels like I’m walking on an exhibit, a fragile antique preserved in time. It shocks me that I’m allowed to do this, and I feel excited and lucky – like I should sneak so I don’t get kicked out, and I should savor every moment. Must have been the sound and feel of that creaky step under my foot, and I’m flooded with emotion. All at once I realize I’m really here in this place, it’s so familiar – and I also realize I’m 60 years too late. I choke back an inappropriate display of emotion before it gets the better of me.

For a moment the street is quiet behind me – no one is around. No tourists on the wide sidewalk below, no cars crawling by looking for aquarium parking. The multi-paned windows of Ed Ricketts’ front room are above and to the left of me, weathered and set into the even more weathered dark wooden framing. The call of Western gulls echoes off the waterfront buildings around me. Behind me are the empty lots of weeds and cannery debris, the dirt roads, tree frogs singing in the road puddles, the sandy hills dotted with cabins and shanties, the black cypress and pine covered mountains as backdrop. The door is a few steps above me. There’s motion from the other side of the windows, and the knob begins to turn. Will he step out on to the tiny landing and invite me in? I see Ed clearly looking down at me.

Then the street is back. Not the canneries anymore but hotels, boutiques, and restaurants. There are no weedy lots or dirt roads. And it’s not Ed. I wipe my eyes and knock tentatively on the door, and am greeted by a small group of friendly, mostly seated older folks who invite me in to sit and have a drink before the next tour gets going.

Most people interested in this stuff know that Ed Ricketts was far more than a biologist. He was a philosopher, a lover of music and art, a voracious reader, an explorer, quiet, kindly and focused, a legendary bohemian, caring friend to many, and frequent party host. His home/lab was a gathering place for like-minded friends and strangers. Joseph Campbell and John Steinbeck kept his company, as well as the local kids, drifters, fishermen, biologists and lady friends.

Ed had a succession of three marine biology labs in the Monterey area. The first opened in 1923 in Pacific Grove, then two at the same location on Cannery Row. The first at the Cannery Row location burnt down in 1936, and Ed never fully recovered financially from the great loss of personal and professional items. He escaped the blaze (which started in and consumed the canneries around him) with his typewriter, a portrait of himself, his pants, and his car. All else lost: art, music, household items, equipment, his specimens which were his livelihood, and his extensive and beloved library. What was saved from the fire, however, was the manuscript for Between Pacific Tides – which would become the timeless intertidal bible of the west coast, encapsulating Ed’s life work of shoreline exploration along the west coast. The manuscript was saved because it lingered at Stanford University Press as they dragged their heels in publishing a work by an author who had left college early and had no degree to show for his name. But eventually publish it they did, and word has it that it is still the most popular marine textbook produced by Stanford. A true classic.

Ed preserved marine specimens, as well as cat skeletons and frogs for high school and college biology classroom use in schools across the Country. This is how he squeaked out a living through the depression and beyond. Ed’s non-stop collecting and cataloguing of intertidal marine life in California extended to collecting trips in Alaska and Mexico as well. He endeavored to complete catalogues of the intertidal ecosystems of much of the west coast of North America. With the completion of such a body of work, Ed Ricketts would have been known as the undisputed pioneer of western marine biology he so deserved. This work was cut short by his death in 1948 when his car was struck by a train as he crossed the tracks near his home in Monterey.

Although a great help in making his work known to popular audiences, the likeness of Ed Ricketts as “Doc” in Cannery Row was only a “thin veneer of the complicated man Ed Ricketts was”, as one of the knowledgeable and engaging docents on the lab tour put it. Cannery Row, written as a tribute to Ed Ricketts whom Steinbeck held in high reverence, has, as it turned out, overshadowed Ed’s considerable scientific accomplishments.

I entered the lab and began to absorb the surroundings. In honor of Ed I took up the offer for a drink, and engaged in red wine for breakfast. I looked around and chatted with the group of colorful local authors, historians and archivists who have made it their passion to research and tell the tale of Ed Ricketts and the real Cannery Row to lucky interested parties such as myself. The place is dark but inviting, and felt somewhat like a small drafty barn with windows. It is barren of hominess and one can see right through the lab from the front sunlit living room strait out the back to Monterey Bay. None of Ed’s furnishings remain, and since his passing the walls dividing the tiny rooms he used in his office/living quarters have been removed to create two main common rooms upstairs.

There have been a few owners of the building since Ed died 1948, but all have cared for the lab in his honor, and preserved it as best they could. Since the 1950’s the lab has been owned by a group of businessmen and artists who formed a “gentlemen’s club”, which meets regularly at the site mostly for social events. What remains in the building are artifacts of this club: books, an old record player, a bar built in the back room, a piano, artwork, and some reproductions of portraits of Ed Ricketts on the walls. One notable artifact of the men’s club is a collage in the front room decorating the entire western wall comprised of photos of jazz musicians, sexy actresses of the day such as Sophia Loren, a young Fidel Castro, local characters of Monterey and the men’s club, and prints of modern art.

Beneath this wall once sat Ed Ricketts bed, and his library shelves. The patched hole low in the wall where Ed’s potbelly woodstove once stood close to his bed, remains. On this western wall Ed had hung a paper timeline on which he invited anyone to list historic facts of significance in the arts, sciences, philosophy, and civilization throughout time which they had learned. No one knows what became of that paper timeline or much else of Ed’s belongings after he died. Understandably, friends and family took bits and pieces of Ed to remember him by until nothing was left here - Only the skeleton of his concrete specimen tank system out back, some extra large ceramic mason jars in the lab below, and the floors we stood on. If those floors could talk.

Some of Ed’s marine specimens are reported to be at various museums and academic institutions around the San Francisco Bay Area. The Gentlemen’s club has deeded the building to the City of Monterey, and when the last of the few remaining members of the club move-on, the city will take up full ownership of this great place. It remains to be seen what the plan is for the building: One hope is for a renovation to restore the lab as it once was when Ed Ricketts worked and lived there – a replica open to the public to preserve his memory and legacy.

So I’m still there – lost in time in that place even though I’m home. Seeing clearly the bustling lab of the 20's, 30's, and 40's; and the streets and the life of Monterey’s working waterfront. Watching Ed work and talk and host. Perhaps similarities in my own life bring me there: My cousin was recently in a car accident, and like Ed he lingered for a while afterwards in the hospital, awake and aware. Like Ed, there was hope he would make it, but internal injuries undetectable from x-rays would soon be more than he could recover from. Like Cannery Row in the early part of the 20th century, the bohemian coastal town I grew up in during the later part of that century had many similarities, including a small community of intertwined characters engaged in varying states reality and society, and even an old marine biology lab.. But nothing could compare to those times on Cannery Row in Monterey, and no one would compare to the pioneer Ed Ricketts was.