History in a Box: Commies, Causeways and Call Girls

By Mark McGuigan
Staff Writer

September 15 -- In the corner of an office in City Hall there sits a time capsule. Most people don’t give it so much as a second glance, walking by it to answer phones or file papers. In fact, it resembles nothing more than a plain white cardboard box.

But inside the box -- stored for decades in an offsite vault and hidden from view for more than 40 years -- are the seeds that grew a city.

This stack of aging documents dating as far back as 1950 shaped freeways and streets, helped to curtail communism and swinger parties and very nearly built an island in the ocean. Yet, they likely would never have seen the light of day if the City Clerk had not been looking for ways to save money by consolidating documents.

“We were going through records, so I asked to have them brought back to see what they were because I couldn’t really tell by the description,” said City Clerk Maria Stewart of the wayward box. “And then, I started going through them.”

What Stewart found was a window on the past, a storybook tale of a City evolving, and its constant struggle to adapt to changing times. What follows is a brief history of time, Santa Monica style, and no DeLorean required.

***

First stop is City Hall, August 24 1950. A letter has arrived before the City Council calling on the City of Santa Monica to stand shoulder-to-shoulder with cities elsewhere to stem the rising tide of communism. This is McCarthy’s era, the reds are everywhere and a witch-hunt is already underway in Hollywood.

In a letter from W.A Smith, Chairman of the Board of Supervisors of the County of Los Angeles, council members are asked to adopt three new “urgency ordinances” requiring “all communists and persons belonging to certain organizations of doubtful loyalty to our American form of government, to be registered with the Sheriff’s office.”

“I urge you to follow the pattern set by the Los Angeles County Board of Supervisors,” Smith writes, “and adopt similar regulatory ordinances as soon as it is legally possible to do so.”

The box contains no response to this battle cry in the fight against communism. Most of the yellowing documents are incomplete, and the story hangs in the air unfinished.

But elsewhere in the sheaf of papers sits a telegram showing that while communism didn’t prevail in Santa Monica, it did elsewhere in the world, and the effects of its spread reverberated throughout the city.

***

This time the date is May 12, 1970. America is knee-deep in a jungle war with communism in Southeast Asia, and things are not going well. Daily reports depict bedraggled soldiers fighting a losing battle, the death toll is mounting and many at home have had enough.

Santa Monica Mayor Herbert A. Spurgin on behalf of the City Council pens a one-page telegram which, according to the opening paragraph, was written to appease 500 Santa Monica College students who descended on City Hall to voice their opposition to the bloody war.

“We as members of the faculty and student body of Santa Monica College condemn United States military action in Cambodia,” the telegram states.

“Furthermore, we urge the justice department to take strong immediate action in prosecuting those responsible for the murder of the four Kent State University students.” This last line was in response to the fatal shooting of four students by national guardsmen in a botched effort to disperse an anti-war protest on May 4.

So as not to cause offense, a disclaimer is hastily tacked to the end of the missal. “This does not necessarily represent my views, the views of the city council, administration or the citizens of this great city,” it says.

Printed in capital letters in the left-hand corner of this simple call for peace and justice is the name of the intended recipient -- President Richard Nixon, The White House, Washington D.C.

What Nixon made of this telegram is unclear. Perhaps his response, if one exists, lies elsewhere in the city. But one thing is known, it would take three years before the last U.S soldier left Cambodia after a groundswell of public outcry, and somewhere in the chorus was the voice of Santa Monica.

“I think it’s interesting to compare them (the documents) to where we are now and where we were then and wonder, ‘Which way are we moving?'” Stewart said.

***

Other documents from the swinging seventies show a city looking to find its groove. Led Zepplin, The Bee Gees and David Bowie dominate the record charts. Flares and platform shoes are all the rage, and council members are once again embroiled in a battle to protect the decency of its citizens.

On October 31, 1974, Claudia Carroll placed an advertisement that resembled an article in The Evening Outlook -- which folded in 1998 -- bearing the title “Singles Party.” The innocuous little piece outlined plans to hold a Halloween party, costume optional, at The Miramar Hotel.

The "article" was brought to the attention of Detective Raymond of the Santa Monica Police Department by a sharp-eyed and civic-minded member of the public, whose identity remains a mystery.

According to a report filed by Detective Raymond, “the article indicated a Halloween Cocktail Party would be held at the Miramar Hotel with dancing.” And although the City of Santa Monica had put up with many things in the past including threats of communism and white rayon suits, a party with dancing could mean only one thing: trouble was afoot.

With all the elements of her future crime already detailed in the piece -- including the date, time and location of the party -- Ms. Carroll was duly summoned to the police department. She wasn’t difficult to find, her address was also provided in the newspaper, thereby eradicating any need for clandestine sleuthing.

Outlining reasons why police officials called her in, the report states that “some of these types of operations in other locales are used as a front for ‘Call Girl’ type activities and in some cases become meeting places for ‘Swinger Parties,’ illicit drug use and gambling activities.”

As the crime had yet to take place -- the report states there had been no “evidence of a violation” -- Carroll was not booked. But rather than slip quietly away, Carroll fired back.

Documents dated December 5, 1974 show a request by Carroll calling for an amendment to Section 3605 of the Municipal code to “allow escort services within the City of Santa Monica.”

The section states that: “No person shall operate an escort service, personal introduction service, marriage bureau, lonely hearts club or other business of a like nature in the City of Santa Monica.”

Although the saga-in-the-box ends there, one has only to look at modern Santa Monica for clues to how this affair played out. Nowadays, owners of a lonely heart must venture beyond city limits in their quest for alternative modes of love.

***

Amidst the requests for addenda and amendments, rising from the sheaf of documents like the lost city of Atlantis comes the image of a Santa Monica that never was -- a grand scheme to build an island causeway in the middle of the ocean.

The artificial island -- as outlined in a document presented to the City Council on July 19, 1961 by John F. Drescher of Seaway Enterprises in Beverly Hills -- was to be called “Sunset Seaway.”

The plan was simple in concept: dump 97 million cubic yards of landfill 4,000 feet from shore and build an island causeway 30,000 feet long running parallel to Pacific Coast Highway stretching from Santa Monica Beach to Will Rogers Beach and, voila, an instant island.

For readers who haven’t looked west over the Pacific Ocean recently, Sunset Seaway never happened. The project, though widely supported by the local community, was dogged with technical and financial problems and, in essence, it would have been easier to put a man on the moon.

“It was a spectacular plan,” former council member Bob Gabriel told The Lookout recently. “Whether it would have worked or brought people in, I don’t know.”

(Just how spectacular will be revealed in a second article in The Lookout later this week.)

***

A request made in 1976 by Occidental Oil to drill in the Palisades, a 1974 design for the City flag, resignations and allegations…. In a few short weeks these documents will once again be locked away in the City's vaults where they will be stored according to relevance and date. Despite the fact that they are public record, few will see daylight again anytime soon.

"Nobody would find out about that kind of stuff unless something like this happens," Stewart said of the discovery. "If they had been filed like I would have (filed them), nobody would know to go looking for them."

In observing history, the writer E.M Forster once said that the past is like a foreign country -- people do things differently there. And while the Santa Monica of old is a strange place to look upon, it's nice to know that some things simply never change.

On the back of the occasional document are handwritten notes, scribbled by those taking part in the meetings. Couched in the language of the time, the musings are a direct link to the thoughts and feelings of some council members as they watched events unfold.

"These jokers all like to hear themselves yak!" exclaims one line scribbled on the back of an agenda for the Harbor Causeway Development dated May 21, 1963.

On another inter-departmental memo dated that same year is a reminder that while fashions come and go, enemies change and wars eventually end, council meetings sometimes last forever.

"This type of sillyness (sic) goes on every Tuesday evening at 7:30pm," says the note.

Just for the record, this does not necessarily represent my views, the views of the editor, administration or the owners of this great paper. Who knows who could be reading this 30 years from now?