In 37 Years, a Lot of Water Under the Pier

Ella Christiansen celebrates her 74th birthday today, surrounded by most of the people she says “Hi, darling” to just about every day at the Huntington Beach Pier.

That’s Ella, or Mom if you really rate with her. She is an institution on the pier. She’s been there 37 years, and it will be 37 more before anyone moves her, including heart and soul, out of the place she treasures most.

“I don’t want to retire. I’d drive everybody nuts, besides myself,” she said one evening as a heavy fog rolled in and Chuck Berry put a beat to a visitor’s shoe with the jukebox rendition of “Johnny B. Good.”

In those 37 years, Ella Christiansen has officially welcomed each dawn on the pier. She and her husband, Carl, farmed in Colorado. But doctors told Carl, who was ill, he would not live long if he continued to battle the fierce winters of the Rockies.

Ella and “My Darling” headed for California and opened the Tackle Box halfway down the pier. Then 17 years ago, they expanded their business to include Neptune’s Locker, a closet-size sandwich and beer joint about 50 yards from the foot of the pier.

Carl died in 1972, but the death of her sweetheart did not diminish Ella’s love for the pier, so she stayed. Through the fog, the rain, the humid, sunny mornings, she drives her car up to the pier each morning at 6 and starts brewing coffee for the early risers.

She goes home at noon, does her chores, maybe naps. She returns in the late afternoon and holds court from her stool behind the cash register until midnight. Only severe weather ever forces her to close.

Ella is small. Her hair these days is short with luscious curls that highlight her mostly brown hair. Pale, steely blue eyes shine through her thick glasses.

She always exhibits a tough sweetness. She takes guff from no one. But few know the really soft side. In all her years on the pier, hundreds have been helped by Ella. She dismisses those good deeds with a sigh.

But Pete Christy, a former Huntington Beach police sergeant who has known her 20 years, calls her “one of the most splendid people who ever walked the earth.”

Christy said Ella has never turned down a friend. She has made thousands of small loans “that she didn’t expect to see again. She has given kids quarters to call their moms for a ride home. . . . No one has gone hungry while she was around.”

“She’s one hell of a lady,” Christy said.

It’s Ella’s touch for the common and her simple wisdom that probably endear her the most to her friends.

The other night, a shaggy-haired regular was sobering up with strong coffee. He told Ella his divorce had become final that day and he was celebrating.

“Well, I told you but you didn’t listen. Each one has to go 60% of the way for things to work out. That’s how I kept ‘My Darling’ longer than you’ve been alive,” she said.

No one seems to bother Ella. Robberies have never occurred, partly because she counts strong allies among the 200-member city police force. Besides, the rules are stated plainly on the tall, wooden front door, and those who do not obey are quickly “chased out.”

Tops and Bottoms must be c overed.

Mind your manners. Thanks, Ella.

No, Ella is not about to go away. She loves the pier too much and says “everything I want to see or do is right here. I don’t need to go anywhere.”

These days she is concerned that proposed development at the foot of the pier will eventually “mess” her monument. She gets downright mad about the “money-hungry people” who want to develop the area around the pier. She knows of what she speaks. In 37 years, the pier and that great big ocean below it have provided much comfort to Ella and her friends. It has soothed many a troubled heart.

“People have a problem and come out and watch the ocean. They forget what they were worried about,” Ella said, looking wistfully out into the darkness of the Pacific.

“I see that day in and day out. They better not ever take that away from the pier.”