Postcard from San Francisco

It may look like an old Italian trolley car…and in fact, it is. This beautiful old street car used to run through downtown Milan. But now it rumbles through San Francisco; an F-line trolley (perhaps the “F” on the back of the car gave that away).

The F Line is unique in San Francisco. It’s almost as special at the famous cable cars. And while the cable cars run from Powell Street, over the hills and down to Fisherman’s Wharf, this proud beauty runs from the east end of Market Street, past Powell Street cable cars, all the way to the Ferry Building…then takes a hard left, rumbles down the Embarcadero, all the way to…you guessed it…Fisherman’s Wharf.

The cable cars go up and over the hills…the F Line runs the flat route. It’s longer, but still quite scenic. Locals don’t use it very much, mostly tourists these days. But, who cares. Its fun to ride and cheaper than a cable car…and if you count the time it takes to get on a cable car (the lines are long), the F Line is faster.

But that is not what makes the F Line really special. Oh, no. It’s that their trolleys come from all over the world and are perfectly restored antiques. When I was there, I rode in trolleys from Philadelphia, Birmingham, and even an old trolley from San Francisco (1940’s version). There are a total of 20 right now from far off places like Boston, Mexico City, Washington DC, and Brooklyn (not to mention Milan), just to name a few.

The idea for these trolleys came from a non profit organization called The Market Street Railway. They restore these beautiful old street cars and put them back to work. What a great idea! It’s just another sprinkling of fairy dust on this magical City by the Bay.    

Postcard from Chicago

It’s just art. I liked the symmetry. Art can be found all around you. Just look. Andy Warhol painted a soup can, for God’s sake!. Me, I photographed Gatorade.

Maybe the only other people that appreciated these cups were the thousands of runners in the Chicago Marathon. This table of Gatorade was at mile marker 16 of the marathon, so you know it looked awful good to those folks after all they went through to get to this point…and only 8 more miles to go.

I can’t even conceive the thrill of running a marathon…or even running around the block. When I played football and was in the best shape of my life, I hated running those damn 40 yard wind sprints. About killed me!  

And you know what 99.99% of the runners get for their efforts? A little medal they hang around their neck that says they finished. Or was it a t-shirt? I forget. Well, bless them anyway for their efforts. I am glad it makes them happy. But, I still don’t get it.

I must say it was fun to watch, to photograph, and to participate. I got to hand out sponges soaked in water to the runners as they came by my post. Now, that was rewarding, although I was tempted to pull my hand back as a runner reached for it. But, I didn’t. Even at my age, there is still a bit of the mischievous little devil in me.

Postcard from Monterey

The Monterey Bay Aquarium is a great place to visit and enjoy the world of undersea life. Of course, I go mainly to photograph the undersea life, especially colorful ones like this reef.

The difficulty is finding displays with good lighting…most don’t have it. Now my Nikon has anti-shake so I can deal with long exposures. But those damned fish keep moving, ruining my long exposures. Still, about 20% of the photos I took that day turned out OK.

I love photographing the colorful reef exhibits like the one you see here. As you may have guessed from my photos, I love colorful locations. I just wish they would train the fish to stop moving when someone raises their camera. Maybe threaten them with a one-way trip to Bubba Gump's Seafood Joint.

I mentioned in another post that my favorite part of this living museum was the Jellyfish section, called “The Jellies Experience.” One can sit there for hours and watch their slow deliberate movements. So relaxing. These babies can move all they want, they are so graceful and slow. I must be getting old.

One of the benefits for Monterey Bay Aquarium is where it sits. The aptly named Monterey Canyon, one of the the largest deep underwater canyons in the world, begins just up a couple miles from the Aquarium, right off of Moss Landing.  It drops of rapidly from the shoreline, reaching a maximum depth of over 2 miles, although most of it averages about a mile underwater…about the same depth as the Grand Canyon (if it were submerged).

This allows scientists to explore a deep ocean canyon without have to travel. Some of their discoveries are on display in the Aquarium.

And if all that fish makes you hungry, the Aquarium is located at the west end of Cannery Row…plenty of seafood restaurants there, including the aforementioned Bubba Gump’s. Thank God I hate seafood. I would rather shoot them than eat them.

Postcard from San Jose

When I went to school at San Jose State, I hated this city…passionately. I swore when I graduated, I would leave immediately. And that is exactly what I did.

Oh yes, it did have its highlights…The House of Pizza for the best pizza on the planet…a steakhouse whose name I forget, where the skinny little chef would stand in the middle of the restaurant and BBQ your steaks over an open fire…while sipping on a large quantity of highballs.

Then there was Henry’s Hamburgers, a block away from my dorm that served decent 19 cent hamburgers…until they were shut down for serving horsemeat. But it was good horsemeat. I am still not sure whether I was sick more times from Henry’s or the college cafeteria. Maybe it was the cheap wine and beer. Ah, the good old days.

I spent some small amount of time back in San Jose in July. Wow, has this city changed. I think they wiped out most of the old city I knew and started over. Of course, its been over 40 years since I lived there.

The San Jose of today is quite modern and reflects the fact it is located in Silicon Valley. Amazing what money can do. I like it a whole lot better than the old one.

Now we come to today’s mysterious, but artsy photograph. It is the interior of the San Jose City Council Chambers looking straight up toward the ceiling. It is one of those places where art happily merges with architecture.

The building is unusual, to say the least. It stands all by itself…many yards away from the modern City Hall Building…both are right next door to the San Jose State campus.  When seen from outside, it reminds me of a football, made of glass, that is partially stuck in the ground.

It is rumored it was designed to help seduce the 49ers to build their new stadium in Silicon Valley. It worked…the new stadium is being built, as we speak, only a few miles away.

If you are still trying to understand the photo, the glass rotunda casts its shadows onto four large cloth sheets that stretch almost completely across the inside of the structure. It make for a nice effect, don’t you think?

San Jose now proudly boasts that the city is, “The Capital of Silicon Valley.” And it just may be. But, Silicon Valley, as an entity, does not exist. But, it is a real place that encompasses the southern portion of the San Francisco Bay Area. But it is also a state of mind.

And it does produce big bucks, which means huge revenues for cities like San Jose. And big revenues can help you build modern government complexes…even ones that look like footballs. Go Niners!

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To see more of my work, both in photography and digital painting, please visit my website, www.corkrum.com

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Postcard from Hearst Castle

If you were lucky enough to be invited for the weekend to Hearst Castle, there were four rules that had to be obeyed:

1. No telling of off-color jokes or using of bad language

2. No getting drunk

3. No eating in the bedrooms

4. Unmarried couples had to sleep in separate bedrooms

Of course we are talking about the 30’s and 40’s. Way back then, the double standard for men and women was scrupulously maintained…even in the master’s 3rd floor suite.

For much of his adult life, William Randolph Hearst had a mistress: film star Marion Davies. She was a beautiful woman and the couple were devoted to each other. If they could have married they would have…but Hearst was already married and his wife, being a good and devoted Catholic, refused to give him a divorce. Obviously this was before California’s no-fault divorce laws.

Mrs. Hearst never visited the castle, probably because Ms. Davies was a an ensconced fixture there. She was the lady of the house. It is said that they were only in the same room once…at some event in Los Angeles. The story is they never acknowledged the other’s existence. Figures.

It would have been fun if Mrs. Hearst would have shown up at the castle unannounced at least once. What would William do? But she never did, although she had every right to, according to the mores of the day.

But, true to the double standard (and in case she ever did show up), Hearst and Davies maintained separate bedrooms…even though they were right across the hall from each other. Since there is a dress on the bed in this photo, this is obviously Ms. Davies bedroom (although it could easily be mistaken for J. Edgar Hoover’s bedroom).

But when the lights when out at night at Hearst Castle, all was fair in love and war…if you get my drift. Ain’t love grand? But you damn well better not bring a ham sandwich into the bedroom for a late night snack.

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To see more of my work, both in photography and digital painting, please visit my website, www.corkrum.com

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Postcard from Coulterville

It was a happy accident that I wound up here in Coulterville, CA…in the heart of the California Gold Country. My friend Susan and I were on our way to Yosemite to meet up with other friends for a long weekend.

We blissfully drove east along Highway 120 until we came to Priest Grade, a steep stretch of road that twists and turns its way up to higher elevations. A big sign said the road was closed. But fortunately, there was a detour…which took us south for a while…right into the town of Coulterville.

For the Gold Country, Coulterville is a boring name. This part of California is known for little towns and geographic locations with exotic names, usually selected by inebriated gold miners. Think I’m kidding? Here are a few examples:

You Bet, Yellow Jacket Mine, Smuggler Mine, Hangtown, Gold Hill, Poverty Hill, Rich Bar, Dutch Creek, Gold Run, Dutch Flat and Poorman Creek. Then there’s Grizzly Canyon, Rough and Ready, Jackass Creek, Humbug, Stringtown, Angel's Camp, Whiskey Creek, and Volcano. I know, drunk or sober, they thought these names were funny.

See why I think Coulterville is a boring name? The fact that it was once called Maxwell Creek doesn’t improve its image. Must not have been much drinking going on here back in the 1850’s.

Of course the folks that started the towns here had a unique name of their own. Gold was discovered in California in 1848. It wasn’t long before the secret was out and these wannabe gold miners poured into San Francisco in 1849 to head up into the hills.

This allowed them to call themselves 49ers…and while most people think they were named after the year, the truth is they stole the name from a small, relatively unknown, but rugged, football team that played their games in The City. The miners thought this was funny too.

But I digress.

While the name may be a bit mundane, Coulterville is a lovely little town of 201 people that really shines in the spring. Many of the buildings are from the 1850’s…its one of the last remaining unspoiled gold country towns (even the utilities are underground to help camera freaks like me).

The wisteria runs along the main street, from the Hotel Jeffrey to this assay office/antique store…and it was all in bloom this fine May day.

The Hotel Jeffrey was built in 1851, which explains why it was not called Wisteria Lodge. Too bad as Sherlock Holmes fans would flock there in droves.

But, there is also the wildly misnamed Magnolia Saloon and a Chinese store, Sun Sun Wo Co. And let me not forget Whistling Billy, an eight ton locomotive that brought ore down from the mines.

Such a lovely place to visit…but time was of the essence that day and we had to keep going meet our friend up in Yosemite Valley. Of course, that beautiful place had the great fortune not to be named by drunken miners. The native Americans who lived there called it “Awooni,” which in their language meant Big Mouth. They thought it was funny too.   

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To see more of my work, both in photography and digital painting, please visit my website, www.corkrum.com

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Postcard from Hearst Castle

Presenting today, a poem by William Randolph Hearst (1863-1951). Today’s photo is of the Neptune Pool at Hearst Castle. FYI, the columns on the left are from ancient Rome.

The Song of the River

The snow melts on the mountain

And the water runs down to the spring,

And the spring in a turbulent fountain,

With a song of youth to sing,

Runs down to the riotous river,

And the river flows to the sea,

And the water again

Goes back in rain

To the hills where it used to be.

And I wonder if life’s deep mystery

Isn’t much like the rain and the snow

Returning through all eternity

To the places it used to know.

For life was born on the lofty heights

And flows in a laughing stream,

To the river below

Whose onward flow

Ends in a peaceful dream.

And so at last,

When our life has passed

And the river has run its course,

It again goes back,

O’er the selfsame track,

To the mountain which was its source.

So why prize life

Or why fear death,

Or dread what is to be?

The river ran

Its allotted span

Till it reached the silent sea.

Then the water harked back

To the mountain-top

To begin its course once more.

So we shall run

The course begun

Till we reach the silent shore.

Then revisit earth

In a pure rebirth

From the heart of the virgin snow.

So don’t ask why

We live or die,

Or whither, or when we go,

Or wonder about the mysteries

That only God may know.

William Randolph Hearst - 1941

Postcard from San Simeon

“In suggesting gifts: Money is appropriate, and one size fits all.” - William Randolph Hearst

Hearst Castle is the symbol of opulence run amok. But, you gotta love it! It’s beauty is beyond belief. Here, unlimited money magically became beauty. Art in every flavor abounds here, yet it is all so tasteful…well mostly. 

There is nothing like it anywhere else in the world. Yet, here it is. It could never be duplicated in this day and age. Perhaps that is a good thing.

This was my first trip to Castle Moneystein…aka: La Cuesta Encantada, even though I lived in California much of my life. It is a bit out of the way. It’s north of San Luis Obispo and south of Monterey. The only way to get there is via the twists and turns of California Highway One.

But here’s a dirty little secret…go north from San Luis Obispo to visit the castle. The twist and turns are mostly north of San Simeon. It’s a pretty straight shot from the south. Of course, when it was built, there was no Highway One. You figure it out.

And, by the way, you don’t drive to the castle. Rather, you park down below at the Visitor’s Center and take a bus up a twisty five-mile road to the top. Along the way up (and back), you get a recorded guided tour by Alex Trebek which is informative, although he does throw in an infomercial here and there. I’ll take Renaissance Art for $500, Alex. 

Upon landing, one is immediately blown away by the spectacular beauty of the place. Looking out, you see the Pacific Ocean far below…looking up, there are the two Spanish twin cathedral towers that would thrill the soul of Father Junipero Serra. And then there are the gardens. Wow!

And the tour has not even begun yet. I chose to take the Upstairs Suite Tour as it looked more interesting. These old legs had to negotiate 273 stairs, but damned if I didn’t do it….And that doesn’t count all the other stairs I took while exploring the grounds. Of course, all that exercise required a long nap before dinner. No long walk on the beach that night.

But, it was worth every step.

Pictured above is Hearst’s private study. I say private as it was off-limits to most of his guests. The only folks beside Hearst, and perhaps his mistress, Marion Davies (and I’m not even sure about her) were those men who ran his vast empire who were at the castle on business. It is up on the second floor near the library and Hearst’s bedroom.

I asked the tour guide if Hearst’s kids came in here to do their homework. He wasn’t sure. Today, desktop computers would be out of place here, but a properly cased iPad might be OK…although a Wi-Fi signal might be difficult to find. Life was so much simpler back then.

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To see more of my work, both in photography and digital painting, please visit my website, www.corkrum.com

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