Opulence Gone to Seed: The Pacific Coast Club of Long Beach | KCET
Opulence Gone to Seed: The Pacific Coast Club of Long Beach
Today, Ocean Boulevard in Long Beach is a grand thoroughfare, with buildings that tower over you majestically as you drive by in your little car or truck.
The Pacific, a 16-story condo building, is no exception. It is a rather pretty building, built in 1992, where condo prices start at over half a million dollars. Its shiny facade hides the fact that its construction was a point of contention and sorrow for thousands of Long Beach residents. For it replaced the fortress-like Pacific Coast Club of Long Beach, a magical castle built by SoCal patriarchs during the optimistic glory days of this city by the sea.
It was the roaring, sociable 1920s in Southern California. In emerging cities like Long Beach, opportunities looked limitless and cash was flush. The pioneering families of SoCal were finally feeling established enough to enjoy some luxurious R&R.
Private gentlemen's sporting clubs, most modeled after the wildly successful Los Angeles Athletic Club (which was itself modeled after East Coast and English clubs), were popping up all over the area. Long Beach was no exception. In 1923, two nascent sports clubs joined to form the Pacific Coast Club of Long Beach. The membership included many of the biggest names in Long Beach -- the Llewellyns, W. Harriman Jones, Jotham Bixby and Walter Desmond.
They had the names, they had the incorporated club, and now they needed a building to rival the clubs in Los Angeles.
In June 1925, construction was started on a massive, fortress-like club headquarters at 850 East Ocean Blvd., Long Beach's fashionable main thoroughfare. Designed by the firm of Curlett and Beelman, and built by the firm of McGrew and Sons, the fantastical facility was constructed on the edge of a bluff overlooking the sea. On Sept. 4th, 1926, the Los Angeles Times reported:
The next month, the club was formally opened with an elaborate program spread out over five days. Opening night began at 5:30 p.m. on October 27, 1926, when the "massive bronze doors of the big Nordic building" were thrown open, and 700 representatives of the aristocracy of early California poured in:
Guests were led on tours of the new chocolate colored building. They were impressed by what they saw: a patent leather bar, numerous guestrooms, an Olympic-sized indoor swimming pool, high oak beam ceilings, chandeliers, massive fireplaces, a beauty shop, basketball court, a barber shop, a sauna, a haberdashery, gym, a women's tea room, and a padded wrestling room. The massive library offered splendid ocean views, as did the Sunset Dining room with its three large walls of glass. There was also a private beach area for members.
Viewers raved that the club was "noble, massive, dignified, and superlatively beautiful-the finest example of classical Norman style ever reared on the western hemisphere."
A peculiar tradition started over the five nights of revelry. According to the Los Angeles Times:
One of the features of the club's opening will be the trying on of the golden slipper, a costly bit of footwear made by A. L. Letart, a jewelry designer... Modern Cinderella's will be asked each evening of the open week to try on the slipper. Successful candidates will meet at a time to be named later, when a final try on contest will be held. To the young Cinderella whose foot best fits the slipper will go the honor of having her name engraved on the gold of the bit of footwear and a Cinderella ball will be held later in her honor. The Cinderella slipper will be placed in a case in the Trophy Room of the club.
This tradition would evolve into an annual Cinderella Ball, which would delight Long Beach teenagers for decades. The club quickly became the social center of Long Beach. Members wheeled and dealed in the billiard room and library, the club's AAU sports teams hosted rival clubs like the L.A.A.C., and bachelors called the tower bedrooms home. Part-apartment, part-gym, part-nightclub -- it also became an important place for naval officers and their wives to entertain:
The Prince and the Pauper
However, all this opulence came at a cost. The club had borrowed a large amount of money to build their new home. Within a year, they were almost bankrupt.
Leaders at the club appealed to the financially stable L.A.A.C. for help. In a private trolley car, a deal was ironed out. The L.A.A.C. and PCC would merge. The PCC would become financially solvent, and the L.A.A.C. would get something leader Frank A. Garbutt had longed dreamed of -- ocean front property that could potentially become a yachting center (it never did). In 1928, the merger was heralded in the local papers:
According to L.A.A.C. historian Betty Lou Young, "When the corporate adoption was announced in the Mercury [the L.A.A.C. in-house magazine], the L.A.A.C. was congratulated for taking 'under its strong financial wing the lusty Long Beach baby of the club family.'" Members would be able to pay one fee for membership in both clubs, although their sports teams and management would remain separate. To celebrate the clubs' partnership, L.A.A.C. members drove down to Long Beach to participate in a "stage night," where the clubs' teams competed in handball, wrestling, and boxing.
With its new status as one of the L.A.A.C. "family" (which would eventually include the California Yacht Club, the Surf and Sand Club, the Hollywood Athletic Club, and the Riviera Club), the PCC continued on its merry way. Long Beach debutantes danced on the ocean view patio, members of the "naval" colony hosted bridges, teas and smokers during Fleet Week, and art shows were held featuring "marine landscapes."
The PCC basketball team, the Cagers, frequently battled against the L.A.A.C. Mercuries, a rivalry closely followed by the media. According to the LA Times, the Cagers always played their best game against the Mercuries. "They can lose to teams of lesser light," one reporter wrote, "but always battle the local club men on even terms." Numerous high profile AAU swim meets were also held at the indoor pool. In 1932, famed "mermaid" Helene Madison of the Seattle AC helped smash the women's relay world record during a meet at the PCC.
The PCC's serene routine was shaken in 1933, when the 6.4 Long Beach Earthquake struck on the evening of March 10. According to Betty Lou Young, PCC manager Harry Schiffk, who had recently moved to Southern California from Germany, was the hero of the incident:
The PCC was heavily damaged, and the club had to take out an RFC government loan for a costly renovation. It was reopened in 1934, but as the recession deepened, luxurious clubs around the country began to suffer, and many folded. Though the PCC stayed open, the L.A.A.C. organization began to shed many of its other satellite clubs in an attempt to stay afloat. World War II brought new challenges to the PCC, whose height and coastal location made it a potential target for the enemy. Betty Lou Young recalled an early blackout at the club:
The Best Laid Plans...
In 1940, a strange event occurred in the famed lobby of the PCC. A mentally disturbed man named Theodore Alphonse Girmschied had been sneaking into the boiler room to sleep for a week. He had married a sixteen year old girl the month before, and had been scared to tell her he had recently lost his job. Instead, he lied to her, and said he was working the night shift at a local airplane factory, while in reality he was sleeping in the boiler room -- next to his loaded gun.
While Girmschied was attempting to sneak out of the lobby at 5:30 a.m. one morning, he came upon night clerk Harry Dale. During the attempted hold-up that followed, Girmschied shot Dale and fled. Dale managed to run to two night porters for help. The porters caught Girmschied and wrestled him into submission on the lobby floor. Dale eventually died from his injuries, and Girmschied pled guilty to murder.
Money problems continued to plague the PCC. The RFC loan had come due, and the club was unable to keep up with the payments. But as the war ramped up and naval officers flooded Long Beach, membership spiked to an all-time high, saving the club from its money woes.
After the war, membership dropped again, but the club remained an elite social center of Long Beach throughout the 1950s. For several years, it played host to the Miss Universe Pageant's annual swim suit photo shoot:
These heady times were not to last. In 1963, the PCC building was sold to a new owner. The AAU portion of the club would struggle on for a time in other facilities, having continued success in track and field, while the "castle's" new owner would attempt to revive the building.
This attempt was a failure, and the little used building would be sold numerous times, falling into disrepair. A teenage boy exploring the building was killed when he fell from the tall tower. Homeless people broke in and camped inside the cavernous rooms. In 1979, columnist Jack Smith said of the once grand building, "that great fake Norman Castle...now stands dark and empty, under siege by modern battles."
It was a slow death. Numerous legal battles were fought in city halls, public meetings, and courts of law. Preservationists battled developers and the city, developers battled the government, compromises were reached -- and then scuttled. The building, which had been placed on the National Register of Historic Places, continued to fall apart and was occasionally used as a location for horror films.
The Pacific Coast Club, which had once represented the pride of Long Beach, finally came down in 1988. It took over a month for the wrecking ball to bring the mammoth structure down.
However, something positive came out of the PCC's painful, protracted end. New historic preservation regulations were drafted to protect significant structures in Long Beach. "It took the demolition...to wake the citizens of Long Beach up," said Douglas W. Otto, chairman of the Coalition to Preserve Historic Long Beach. "We learned through the Pacific Coast Club that the community cares about its past and is willing to go to some lengths to preserve it."
Further reading: "Our first century: The Los Angeles Athletic Club", 1880-1980, by Betty Lou Young
The closure of migrant learning centers in the southern province of Ranong has driven hundreds of Burmese children into work.
The COVID-19 and economic crisis have thrown plans to deliver more ambitious climate plans off track — but delay is dangerous, vulnerable nations say.
Take a trip into the Autry’s empty galleries to watch another intimate acoustic performance — this time featuring the soulful voice of Chris Pierce — as part of the museum’s "Best of Los Angeles" series.
A small company is set on forging ahead with plans for a proposed coal mine near South Africa’s Kruger National Park, despite the public's concerns of environmental threats.
- 1 of 372
- next ›