Illustration of the author and his brother
California Street, looking south
In case you didn’t notice, we lost a historic downtown street just recently. Toward the end of 1992, most of the street signs for California Street came down. We shall not see them again. California Street, that slummy 19th-century drive on the west side of the railroad tracks, is gone for good, and the only reminders left us are stenciled notices from the Santa Fe Railway.
By Margot Sheehan, March 4, 1993 Read full article
“Cool,” I said, checking out the contents. It was full of paperbacks, mostly science fiction novels of indefinite vintage. Robert Heinlein, Frederick Pohl, books acquired over a period of decades. Olaf Stapleton’s Odd John, C.S. Lewis’s That Hideous Strength, old cult books from some long-forgotten college lit class. “Jesus, Rog, you’re shucking the books of your youth. Don’t you care about your past?”
By Robert Houghton, March 11, 1993 Read full article
Illustration by Peter Hannan
Motorcycle owners spend a proportionately greater time hanging around the repair shop than car owners do. Bike owners will oversee the work, maybe pace, shoot the breeze with the unappreciative mechanic, and inwardly wring their hands like someone visiting a close friend in the hospital with appendicitis.
By John Brizzolara, March 25, 1993 Read full article
DS says against my better judgment I talked to him [Bustamante] he's out making letters of intent with Mexico, Bustamante own most of the vacant land along the border. Roberto de la Madrid is the current runner for Bustamante. DS Japanese friends are running out on him.
April 8, 1993 Read full article
He had obviously seen us on the Mission Avenue on-ramp and had purchased the beer and vodka before picking us up.
In the winter of 1980, Jimmy Howard moved from San Diego to Huntington Beach. We didn’t see much of each other until one April afternoon, when I answered a knock on the door to find Jimmy standing on my doorstep. He had a smile on his face and a skateboard in his hand, and he told me he had hitchhiked all the way from Huntington to rattle my stinking cage.
By P.N. Gwynne, June 17, 1993 Read full article
In 1970 homes and apartments were popping up on every parcel of undeveloped land from Bonita to Santee, and every one of those units received base. At the time there were about a dozen basemen in the county. “I remember back when we were doin’ Fletcher Hills and this Indian — lost both legs in Korea — useta scoot around on a skateboard and cut the base with a goddamned tomahawk!”
June 24, 1993 Read full article
Looking east down Mission Valley, 1951. Time moved slowly. No one seemed to be in a hurry. There was, after all, no place better to go.
Photography courtesy of San Diego Historical Society
I left home, went to live in a fraternity house on La Mesa Boulevard. I was a fairly bright kid, but I flunked every other course I took at San Diego State, a tiny college back then of 3500 students. The old campus of lovely, Spanish-style, one-story buildings is still there, but it’s buried behind huge utilitarian structures that now house 30- to 40,000 students.
By Rick DeMarinis, Nov. 3, 1994 Read full article
For the last 10 years Rusty Preisendorfer has been one of the surfing world's dominant figures. Not because he’s such a great surfer, but because he designs and builds the wave tools that have allowed the best surfers in the world to push the sport to today’s almost absurd levels.
By Steve Sorensen, Nov. 24, 1994 Read full article
Spanish Village, Balboa Park. The ultimate statement is San Diego’s own 1915 Panama-California Exposition, masterpieces in stucco and plaster ornamentation.
Turn-of-the-century San Diego architects Irving Gill, Richard Requa, Frank Mead, Hazel Waterman, Carleton Winslow, William Templeton Johnson, Lillian Rice, and many others embraced stucco for its ability to make a building a composed whole. The grayness of untinted, unpainted concrete was highly desirable,
By Peter Jensen, Dec. 1, 1994 Read full article