One Man’s Deep-Seated Affection for Benches

It is a good thing to walk along a pleasant tree-lined sidewalk and window shop. It is even better, when the feet grow weary, to rest on a bench and watch the passing parade.

A pastrami sandwich, say, and a cold drink improves the pleasure immeasurably.

I discovered this the other day on Gary Dolinka’s bench.

Well, it isn’t really Dolinka’s bench anymore, even though he paid nearly $400 for it. He has given it to the City of Newport Beach so that the Parks and Recreation Department can maintain the bench and bolt it to the sidewalk.

I cannot imagine anybody wanting to steal Dolinka’s bench.

But there’s no accounting for tastes in thievery, so it’s better to be on the safe side, said Ann Spencer of Corona del Mar.

Spencer sold Dolinka on the idea of buying the bench and having it installed in front of his Gary’s Deli on Coast Highway in Corona del Mar.

“I worked up an elaborate sales pitch, and Gary was the first merchant I talked to. I hardly got half way through my spiel, and Gary said he’d take it,” Spencer told me as I enjoyed one of Gary’s pastrami sandwiches while sitting on his bench.

So far Spencer has sold eight more benches to merchants along Coast Highway. Dolinka’s was the first--a sturdy oak and cast iron affair--to be installed. At this writing, all of the initial order of benches from the state Department of Parks and Recreation have been bought, donated and installed. Jim Wood, former president of the Corona del Mar Chamber of Commerce, bought the second bench. It now rests in front of his Unique Homes real estate office.

Wood arranged for the chamber to donate the brass plaques on the benches recognizing the donors. It was Wood’s initial idea to put in benches as part of the town’s beautification program, of which Toni Van Schultze is chairman.

Spencer, although a chamber member, is simply a resident and has no business interest in the community.

Nevertheless, she liked the bench idea and enjoyed strolling and resting a bit when she felt like it. Before she knew it, at Wood’s suggestion, she become Corona del Mar’s champion bench saleswoman.

Others who bought and donated benches are John Blom, photographer and chamber president; Ernie George, North American Thrift & Loan; Hovik Abramian, Studio Cafe; Charles and Deedee Masters, Corona del Mar Realty; Audrey Patterson, Recycled Rags who bought one with T. R. Welsch, Personal Expressions; Alex Lovera, Mucho Munchies, and Robert Forstrom, Gelato Classico.

Spencer has taken a respite from selling benches. She said interest is growing since the nine have been installed, and she expects to see some more benches along the business section soon.

I asked Dr. William O. Hendricks, director of the Sherman Library and Corona del Mar’s leading historian, if these were the first park-type benches ever to grace the town since its founding in the summer of 1904. He thought for a few long moments, and then apologized for not thinking very well as he was in the throes of giving up smoking. “I really don’t think so,” he said. “They had lovely ornamental street lights long ago, but I doubt if they had benches, excepting bus-stop benches, of course.”

Then he admitted to almost “going crazy last night.” It was his 10th day without a cigarette.

Sympathetically, I wished him strength and courage in his battle against nicotine. Perhaps, I suggested, he might take a walk and sit on one of the new benches and have a bite to eat. It might help.

He said the bench he liked the best, because it amused him, was the one in front of Recycled Rags. Instead of facing the street, the bench faces inward.

There’s some sense to that. I think it’s for people who don’t like the sight of automobiles going by. There are times when I feel the same way, and would much rather sit on a bench and look at a display of secondhand clothing in a window.

I not so sure it would do much for Hendricks, though, in his piteous condition.

I’ve given up smoking at least 20 times and know how he feels. Still, one of Dolinka’s pastramis on rye might help.