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By Ross Eric Gibson
Special at the Sentinel
In 1970, Sentinel historian Margaret Koch said that while it seemed like there weren’t many people who could get along these days, the people of Santa Cruz were united on historic preservation, adding “….” This chic 1886 Italian building stood prominently on the southwest corner of Pacific and Mission streets, built for “Whiskey King” Anson P. Hotaling by local architect LeBaron R. Olive. The specialty grocery store was as popular as the building, with bins of produce and flowers up front, exotic gourmet foods inside, unusual kitchen gadgets and hard-to-find items, drawing foodies from afar. and up close.
What a difference a decade has made. In 1960 it was recommended to demolish the entire city center, eliminate roads for parking and highway cuts, and rebuild in the anonymous Freeway Vernacular style boxes of chain stores and apartment towers. . Chuck & Esther Abbott were famous photographers for Arizona Highways magazine, who retired to Santa Cruz in 1963 for its colorful Victorian charm and pedestrian appeal. They were dismayed at the modernization plans, especially when the Odd Fellows building removed its clock tower and covered its facade with aluminum foil, and the Leask department store removed its ornamental facade to become a box empty.
Chuck said it was more interesting to restore these buildings to their former glory because they presented a level of detail and craftsmanship that is hard to reproduce in today’s market. He recommended developing the city center into an open-air shopping center with Victorian gardens and designating it as the Downtown National Historic District. Through slideshows and gentle persuasion, he convinced the majority of merchants to support his plan, and in 1968 construction began on the Pacific Garden Mall.
The mall’s themed landmarks were the Octagon Building, Cooper Street Courthouse, and the McHugh & Bianchi Building. The county would demolish the Octagon, until a call from the California Historical Society saved it as a rare example of octagonal architecture. It was restored and became the Santa Cruz Museum in 1972. Likewise, the courthouse was to be demolished to make way for a downtown parking lot. But Max Walden bought it and turned it into the premier downtown destination as the Cooper House, complete with Victorian shops, restaurants, and galleries, and a popular sidewalk café featuring the Warmth Band.
McHugh & Bianchi
The McHugh & Bianchi building was located on oddly shaped land with its facade in three angular sections that flowed around the corner of the city center. It joined the Octagon to be the city’s first monuments on the National Register of Historic Places.
Then Golden West Savings & Loan acquired it and announced its intention to demolish the McHugh & Bianchi in favor of a modern building. The California Heritage Council opposed it, as did the Santa Cruz Chamber of Commerce. The city council opposed it, but a local conservation ordinance was missing. They therefore adopted an emergency moratorium on demolitions until an order is issued.
The bank received a petition to save the building with 2,280 names, and later another with 4,000. Sentinel columnist Wally Trabing wrote that the fate of McHugh & Bianchi could very well decide whether Santa Cruz keeps the look. mellow of its heritage or “opens the floodgates to a conglomerate of architectural whims and egos”. Even the president of Monterey Savings & Loan, Robert Littlefield, noted that his bank saved the Estrada Adobe from Monterey during the construction of their building, while American Savings & Loan destroyed the “first post office in California. Of Monterey in favor of a modern building. Local grudges prompted customers to switch from American Savings to Monterey Savings.
Golden West chairman Herbert Sandler said he receives 10 letters a day opposing the bank’s plans for a decidedly modern building. He said the building would actually be community friendly, doing what they did in Sonora, where a local architect practically begged for their bank’s design work, to make sure it matched the character. history of this city. With that in mind, shopping center landscape architect Roy Rydell came up with a sketch showing how the monument might retain its facade with an attic on the third floor, and Max Walden proposed using historic ticket windows. But Sandler said his architects thought historic preservation was Disneyland and didn’t want it. (A strange thing to say about a historic district). He expected his award-winning architects to produce remarkable modern design.
With so many organizations opposed to the demolition, they created a committee to save the monument on January 4, 1972, led by Max Walden. On the same day, City Manager David Koester wrote a letter to Sandler, saying the support to save the building was overblown, that most people want the monstrosity to be demolished and that the only thing holding the building together was termites. holding hands. Sandler publicly repeated these talking points without attribution, ignoring his opposition of 10 letters a day to now claim widespread support for a modern building.
Architects Roy Rydell and Richard Cutts had the structural knowledge to explain that the building was not unhealthy, being constructed of virgin redwood at heart. Cutts said: “Other towns have turned their historic sections into real money generators. It’s good for business. Although custom-built for the site, the bank offered the benchmark to anyone who would prevail. Yet when a group accepted this offer, Golden West refused to lend them the money.
Politics
The preservation ordinance was not ready in June 1972, but by a vote of 3 to 3, the city council rejected a request by the Planning Commission to extend the moratorium on demolition. Soon after, the city council also rejected the preservation ordinance, favoring voluntary compliance over mandatory protections. As a result, the Planning Commission approved the monument’s demolition permit on August 24 and abandoned attempts to create a voluntary preservation order.
On the morning of April 19, 1973, two days before their license expired, two Golden West employees took metal siding in a hangar behind the monument. Rumors led the bank to declare that there were no plans to demolish the building at the moment. Doni Tunheim, president of the Santa Cruz Historical Society, said they were carrying out a token demolition to keep their license active, because if it expired, they would have to reapply under a new law requiring a report of ‘environmental impact.
Jim Franks posed for a photo of Sentinel installing a historic plaque on the building, while Max Walden, Doni Tunheim and City Councilor Virginia Sharp painted the windows with messages: “Golden West is killing me; “This is a national monument; “Grated! Help !;” “Undesirable transient developers at work.” Golden West called this “regrettable vandalism”.
The council’s special committee tasked with finding a compromise released its final report on July 15, 1974, agreeing with the architects of Golden West (who were members of the committee) to demolish the building. But Tunheim noted that the committee had only held three meetings, including two in San Francisco, all of which were secret, excluding the Tories. On July 23, city council met with Sandler’s wife Marion, vice president of Golden West, to assess the report and find a compromise on the monument. Tunheim called the report “… a white-feather committee’s whitewashing work given the Golden West seal of approval.” Reaching a stalemate, Mayor Bert Muhly proposed a 90-day suspension on the demolition, which was again defeated by a 3-to-3 vote.
Few knew Ms Sandler was about to alert a demolition crew standing near the landmark. But before leaving, she received an injunction from the Committee to save the McHugh & Bianchi. Ms Sandler accused she had been trapped by the city. Mayor Muhly said he had no idea about the injunction, but was appalled by his secret demolition team during negotiations to save the building.
Gary Patton, lawyer protecting the monument, accused the demolition was not enough to keep the permit alive and that the hangar was a separate structure. But the judge ruled that since the tin shed could only fit against the back wall of the monument, it was part of the monument. This could have been answered in an appeal, that the sheet metal shed was not a protected part of the National Register Landmark design. But the committee couldn’t afford a $ 10,000 appeal, or even a $ 1,000 bond.
I was on a bus heading to Cabrillo College, when I heard people gasping in horror. I looked up from my book, thinking I would see a bloody accident. Instead, I saw the landmark mid-demolition. We all felt helpless when the bus picked us up.
The name of Golden West Savings had become so hated that the bank changed to a subsidiary name: World Savings.
