Musical memories on Catalina

Author: By Helmut Koenig, Globe Correspondent

Date: SUNDAY, February 28, 1999

Page: M1

Section: Travel

It seemed only fitting to have spent the first night in California aboard the Queen Mary. This grand old luxury liner from the 1930s, docked in Long Beach since 1967, doubles as tourist attraction and hotel. Granted, the former first-class staterooms may appear a shade musty to today's visitors. Still, to stay on the ship is like being transported to a world of long ago, which fitted right in with our program.

For, on the following morning we are off to Catalina, an hour away by fast motor launch, on a passage seemingly speeding us backward through time.

I feel as though in a time warp zipping across the waves and decades.

For, to me, Catalina is indelibly tied to the dim and distant past. Its heyday belongs to a period long before our time. I think of the island as synonymous with silent movies, the Jazz Age, and the big-band era. In other words ancient history so far as most of us are concerned.

I first heard of Catalina as a child. The island had been a major enthusiasm of my father, a dyed-in-the-wool jazz buff and big-band aficionado who regarded Catalina as the promised land, the Avalon Casino Terrace Ballroom as a shrine. He and my mother were regular listeners to the broadcasts emanating from beneath that great Art Deco dome. They loved to dance. They would have given anything to trip the light fantastic in that magical domain.

But it was not to be. For one thing, this was the Depression. Then came World War II. Later there would be other concerns. Such as an expanding family. By then the island's glory years were over. My parents never made it to the Golden West in prime time.

Now, half a century later, aboard what I think of as the Nostalgia Express, my wife and I are on an odyssey of our own. Call it a sentimental journey of discovery, following in footsteps never taken.

As Long Beach fades in the distance, thoughts turn to the myth and mystique of the Catalina of once upon a time.

Songs dating from the era of high-button shoes paid tribute to the island. Starting with the 1910 ``Santa Catalina,'' (``Me for the steamer for Catalina . . .'') and Al Jolson's 1920 hit ``Avalon,'' (``I found my love in Avalon, beside the bay . . .''). Along with 30 other musical gems published over the years.

From 1921 until 1951, except for the war years, Catalina served as site of the Chicago Cubs spring training camp, courtesy of the chewing gum magnate William Wrigley Jr., principal owner of both team and island.

Wrigley bought controlling interest in the island in 1919; three generations of the Wrigley family developed Catalina into ``The Summer Isle'' of the Pacific.

By the 1930s, Catalina rated as the West Coast's ultimate resort at sea, playground of the stars.

The list of visiting celebrities reads like a Who's Who in Hollywood: Charlie Chaplin, John Barrymore, Dolores Del Rio, Mary Pickford, Laurel and Hardy, Norma Shearer, Jean Harlow, Bing Crosby, Bob Hope, John Wayne, James Cagney, the young Judy Garland (and Mickey Rooney), Henry Fonda, Laurence Olivier, Orson Welles, and many more. Along with eccentric millionaire Howard Hughes, Winston Churchill, four US presidents. Ronald Reagan, as radio sports announcer, spent parts of three training seasons with the Cubs.

Marilyn Monroe took up Avalon residence as a 16-year-old bride, stayed for a year and a half, later returned as star.

Movies made on and around Catalina include early versions of ``Moby Dick'' and ``The Sea Wolf,'' ``Rain'' (with Joan Crawford), ``Treasure Island,'' ``Captain Blood,'' ``Mutiny on the Bounty'' (1935, with Clark Gable and Charles Laughton), ``Captains Courageous,'' ``Hurricane,'' ``Typhoon,'' ``Guadalcanal Diary,'' ``Green Dolphin Street,'' ``The Sea Hounds,'' ``Wake of the Red Witch.''

Now, first views of the island show a spine of rugged hills etched along the horizon. From this distance, Catalina appears as wilderness domain, for all practical purposes a desert isle.

Facts and figures indicate the island is 21 miles long, eight miles across at its widest, less than a half mile at other points.

In 1975, the Wrigleys turned their 86 percent of the island over to the nonprofit Santa Catalina Island Conservancy, to be granted environmental preservation status. Settlements are few and far between. Avalon, the main town, weighs in at a square mile.

Straight ahead, the town comes into focus, fitted into a steep drop of canyon. Words from a 1948 song come to mind: ``Avalon, where skies are always blue . . . where love dreams all come true.''

We approach a harbor crowded with shipping, including a full-scale cruise liner. We thread our way amid outboards, power boats, sailboats, windsurfers, glass-bottom boats, pedal boats, yachts galore. Off to the side appears the legendary casino that put Catalina on the map.

The domed circular building enclosed within a Moorish gallery sits on a spit of land pointing out to sea. Home to America's most famous -- and the world's largest -- dance pavilion, I expect to hear a sound track with Jan Garber -- ``Idol of the Air Waves'' -- playing lilting melodies from the repertoire of the time.

Starting in May 1934, broadcasts were beamed coast-to-coast, with the announcement ``From the beautiful Casino Ballroom, overlooking Avalon Bay at Catalina Island, we bring you the music of . . ..'' Jan Garber was an early favorite, along with other ``sweet'' bands of Ben Bernie, Ted Weems, Freddy Martin, before heavy-hitters of swing moved in -- Benny Goodman, Woody Herman, Stan Kenton.

There was big-band dancing at Hotel St. Catherine and other hotels, as well as aboard The Big White Steamship SS Catalina on its two-hour voyage between mainland and island.

In recent times the best one could hope for was a Country & Western Jamboree or Disco Night. No big bands.

As our craft heads for the dock, we pass more yachts. I am reminded of ghost ships moored here. Humphrey Bogart's ketch Santana. The Errol Flynn Sirocco, setting for an amatory escapade for which the dashing actor (Captain Blood!) was put on trial for the rape of two teenage girls. Court proceedings created the tabloid sensation of the early 1940s. On a night in 1981, the actress Natalie Wood went overboard from the family yacht, to drown 50 feet from shore under uncertain circumstances. The dark side of the Hollywood connection.

As Avalon emerges, there is still the feeling of being in a time capsule. The small, low-rise town appears frozen in the time of way back when.

In closeup, a narrow strip of crowded beach serves as mini-Riviera, against a backdrop of appropriately named Crescent Avenue, lined with souvenir stands, gift shops, T-shirt emporiums, and the like. It all appears just a little tacky. My wife and I look at each other.

She: ``Is this what you expected?''

``Not really.'' I wasn't sure what I had expected; somehow this wasn't it.

Once ashore, we move into a pleasant enough hotel, soon embark on a round of sightseeing. First stop: the casino. The magnet that attracted us. Built by William Wrigley Jr., it's a casino in name only, meaning no gambling.

It appears remotely like a Venetian palazzo, with a wrap-around loggia inspired by Granada's Alhambra, which Wrigley admired. At its 1929 opening, the casino rated as Los Angeles County's tallest building. It remains the island's most impressive structure.

The main-floor 1,184-seat theater served as first movie house to present talkies, motion pictures with a soundtrack. Leading producers and directors of the era (Cecil B. DeMille, Louis B. Mayer, Samuel Goldwyn) came by yacht to present preview screenings of films and view ``rushes'' of the day's shooting.

A mezzanine exhibit traces the casino's history, continued in adjoining Catalina Island Museum, with island photos dating to the 1880s.

One floor up, the Art Deco ballroom comes as piece de resistance.

I try to imagine the scene 60-plus years ago. With young people by the thousands dancing cheek to cheek in a world of soft lights and sweet music. Everyone dressed to the nines. The sheer elegance of it all! Photos show men in white flannels, women in frilly gowns, musicians impeccably turned out in snazzy uniforms, tuxedos, or white dinner jackets, playing equally impeccable arrangements, as boy and girl vocalists sing songs of love.

Projecting my young parents into this romantic setting, I see them gliding by on a syncopated beat, against a backdrop of swirling saxes and tumbling brass, moonlight shimmering on dark water. Their impossible dream.

Today, the casino is tied to the meetings and convention trade, with the ballroom hired out for private affairs.

We move into the sunlight, to leave the past behind, continue on foot. No place is very far from any other in Avalon. Back from the waterfront streets are set with modest cottages and bungalows.

And we soon realize what makes Avalon different. There are next to no cars. Golf carts serve as standard transportation. They are parked along the curbs and zip about.

Island statistics indicate a total of 800 cars, taxis, trucks, and sightseeing buses, along with 1,000 golf carts, 3,000 permanent residents, a million visitors a year. And a 10-year waiting period to register a car as part of the package.

Wandering the length of Green Pier, we pass fast-food stands, a fish-and-chips place, beer bars, dive shops, and such. From here, semi-submersible vessels head out to undersea gardens where colorful fish crowd against the windows. In the distance, parasailers drift across the sky. Marine activities include snorkeling, diving, rafting, kayayking, deep-sea fishing, every kind of boating.

On a scenic tour, we follow serpentine roads into the heights. On one side, a former Wrigley mansion has been turned into an inn; on the other, a one-time Zane Grey property functions as small hotel. Dramatic views look down across town and harbor.

The tour includes a visit to the Conservancy's Nature Center, passes the site of former Cubs baseball field, along with Bird Park and Botanical Gardens (with Wrigley Memorial), golf course, stables.

On the way the driver fills us in on more Wrigley legend and lore, island details past and present. Wrigley's concept had been to create a holiday haven affordable to one and all. At the start, admission to the casino ballroom was free. In the mid-1930s a 25 cents per person charge was imposed, 40 cents on weekends. (Today, a guided casino visit costs $8.50, with no music or dancing.)

After the tour, curiosity propels us to the Zane Grey Pueblo Hotel high on Chimes Tower Road.

The name may not ring bells today; once Zane Grey ranked as America's number one writer of Westerns. Between 1906 and 1939, he wrote 89 books. Many were turned into films, some two, three, and four times. ``Riders of the Purple Sage'' sold four million copies, made it to the screen three times.

In 1924, Grey built his American Indian-style summer home overlooking Avalon; winters he cruised his round-the-world yacht to such places as the South Seas and New Zealand. Deep-sea fishing was his passion, with record catches and a string of trophies, along with membership in Avalon's famed Tuna Club, America's oldest fishing club, founded 1898.

The Pueblo's seven guest rooms are identified by titles of Grey's books. Except for the small pool, the place appears much as it must have when Grey lived here. A rustic setting, with over-size fireplace, hewn planked doors, heavy oak dining table, ceilings with teak beams Grey brought from Tahiti.

The hotel looks down on what had once been the home of Tom Mix, who was to early cowboy movies what Grey had been to cowboy novels. Tom Mix starred in the 1925 version of ``Riders of the Purple Sage.'' But the two didn't hit it off. The suggestion is they were not on speaking terms. A trivia sidelight.

Over the next days we take in other aspects of Catalina. By land and by sea. We set off across the island on the Skyline Drive. Beyond Avalon, Catalina turns into the Wild West in miniature, unspoiled wilderness, with a plateau where the buffalo roam. (The original herd of 14 animals had been imported for a 1924 movie; offspring and additions brought the herd to around 400.)

Narrow, mainly unpaved roads wind their way past steep canyons and narrow ravines, to the Airport in the Sky, perched where two mountain peaks had been leveled.

A coastal cruise follows the shoreline alongside cliffs plunging into the sea, passes hideaway coves with pristine beaches, to reach Two Harbors, Catalina's other town. Population: 150. One store. A restaurant. Snack bar. Nearby campground and 11-room lodge. And that's it. Nothing else. No paved roads. No street lights. But a get-away-from-it-all escape hatch of the first order.

One night we dine at the Country Club, former Cubs clubhouse, now a gourmet outpost featuring Pacific Rim fusion cuisine.

In time we get the message. What makes Avalon and Catalina so special. It's small-town and small-time. With no movie stars. No big bands. Litle by way of glamour. And next to no cars. Everything low-key, intimate, in slow motion.

In other words, a way of life as antidote to Southern California's ``freeway, theme park, shopping-mall syndrome,'' alternative to the mainland's on-wheels lifestyle. Residents exude a relaxed, easy-livin' attitude. Consider it a kind of phenomenon, really.

This may no longer be the faraway ``island of romance, romance, romance, romance,'' as it says in a song, but for anyone who arrives today, Catalina could make for a dream come true with a magic all its own.

There are 21 hotels and several inns that offer accommodations at fair prices.

For details, write to Catalina Island Visitors Bureau, PO Box 217, Avalon, CA 90704; telephone 310-510-1520.