A Grand Day for ‘Pier Man’s’ Day

It was another sunny afternoon at the Newport Pier. And as usual, retired maintenance superintendent Elmer Lee Moore was seated stiffly on his favorite bench, a jaunty blue fisherman’s cap on his head and a well-worn maple cane between his knees.

But Monday was not a typical day. For one thing, a half dozen red, blue and yellow helium balloons were tied to the back of Moore’s seat. And just behind him, at a picnic table on the sand, Moore’s granddaughter and several of his friends were setting out pumpkin and grasshopper pies and assembling a pile of brightly wrapped presents.

Moore, a regular at the pier for the last 24 years, was celebrating his 98th birthday.

Or at least Moore’s friends were celebrating it.

Moore himself wasn’t so sure he wanted the hoopla. “I really don’t like it--the big show,” he confided just before the party began. “Me, I prefer more or less quiet.”

But that was not to be.

Two dozen people--among them meter maids, a Newport Beach policeman and several of Moore’s fellow bench sitters--were on hand to sing “Happy Birthday” and watch this man of simple pleasures break into a smile.

They also explained that the unassuming Moore was a Newport Beach institution, not just because he was a regular here but because he was a living trove of Newport History.

“Oh yeah, everyone knows Elmer,” said Officer Stan Bressler who met him at his bench about 6 years ago. “He tells me everything about Newport. Like back when he was a youngster, when he lived in Redlands and he used to come down here on the old Red Car.”

Born in Arjos, Ind., on Jan. 16, 1891, Moore and his family moved to Redlands, Calif. in 1900. He remembers taking the Red Car from San Bernardino into Los Angeles and then south to Newport Beach. He also remembers another trip to Newport in 1907 when he was doing survey work for a gas company, and he drove to the beach in a two-cylinder car called a REO.

“Oh it was different then,” Moore recalled Monday. “There wasn’t hardly a house between here and Balboa.”

Over the years, Moore has done his share of fishing at the pier. Before his wife Anita died in 1965, he liked to walk with her on the beach, he said. These days though, he mostly likes to sit on his bench and talk to friends and passers-by.

The routine is a simple one, he and his friends said.

On good days, when it isn’t windy or raining, he spends the morning pulling weeds in the yard of his Costa Mesa home, then hops a bus, sits at the beach from 2 p.m. to 4 p.m. and then takes the bus home.

“I like the beach,” Moore explained. “See living alone, you get kind of tired of the house. You can get talking to yourself. . . . I come here for the fresh air more than anything else.”

Well, fresh air and conversation, Moore’s friends added.

Over the years, from six to 15 men have joined his circle at the nearby benches and picnic table to discuss such matters as history, politics and finance. Many of them have died over the last few years. Still a small group lives on. Said Tom de Maio, a Lido Isle resident in his 80s who counts himself in the circle, “We settle all the topics of the day.”

‘Chairman of the Board’

“It’s like the board of directors and he (Moore) is the chairman of the board,” said Milt Cohn, a Costa Mesa pharmacist who is also part of the circle.

“And occasionally we look at women coming by,” added De Maio. “We ask them to sit with us, of course.”

Some of the women who have stopped by the circle have been Newport Beach’s meter maids, or as they are officially known, parking control officers. One of them, Dina Beckvold, organized Moore’s first beach birthday party 4 years ago.

This year, Moore’s granddaughter Lynn Mingori provided pies and soft drinks. Still, half a dozen meter maids were on hand Monday to greet Moore with hugs and watch him blow out the candles.

“He’s great. He’s an institution,” said parking control officer Pat Eisenberg. Agreed parking control officer Kathy Lux, “It’s refreshing to talk to him. He’s young at heart.”

‘My Best Friend

As the festivities continued, 6-year-old Brooke Van Cleve swung by on her bicycle. “Is it your birthday?” she asked. “Happy birthday!” She explained a moment later that she knew Moore well: “He’s my best friend.”

Brooke was back a few minutes later with a small present for Moore--a yellow tennis ball. Moore accepted it with soft thanks and a broad smile spread across his weathered face.

As Brooke pedaled off again, she voiced the thought of many guests. She was amazed that Moore was 98. “Yeah, I think it’s neat,” she said. “I gotta tell my dad about this!”