Nature Doesn’t Beat the Dodgers

My wife and I drove up to Los Olivos last weekend with our friends Steve and Nona Baer, the Baers riding in the back seat of my Honda. My wife drove, quite creditably. Evidently she has learned her lesson, having gone to traffic school for speeding.

It was a lovely day, beginning with a light rainfall. The sky was cloudy bright. We passed through valleys, mountains and hills, yellow grass hills wooded with California oaks and eucalyptus. The red blossoms of oleander bushes divided the highway.

Los Olivos is a deliberately quaint town in the Santa Ynez Valley above Santa Barbara. It flowered in the late 19th Century and still affects the architecture of that era.

We stayed at the Los Olivos Grand Hotel, a grand hotel indeed, with towers and gables and elegant furniture.

We had driven to Los Olivos to attend an exhibition of the water colors of a friend, June Turpin. The exhibition was held in the Side Street Cafe, with wine and hors d’oeuvres.

The paintings were mostly of flowers--irises, daisies, fuchsias--and a cluster of grapes, a wooded scene, a geisha, all quite lovely.

For dinner we sat on the Sun Porch of Mattei’s Tavern, a historic eating and drinking place opened in 1886 by its Italian-Swiss owner, Felix Mattei. One of the most interesting facts about Mattei’s is that for years it was a battleground between Felix, who naturally insisted that the tavern serve liquor, and his wife, Lucy, a staunch member of the Women’s Christian Temperance Union and a foe of alcohol.

When the tavern opened, the bar was in a room to the left of the entrance. Less than a year later Lucy said the bar had to go. Felix built a separate building in which spirits were served, but four years later Lucy struck again, throwing the boozers out and turning the bar into a bedroom. It stayed a bedroom until 1962.

I had baby pork back ribs and ordered a bottle of Chardonnay, just so I could drink a toast to the ultimate victory of moderation. (I shared it with the others.)

The history of Santa Ynez Valley is linked to the history of the Pacific Coast Railroad. The railroad advertised land bargains and held auctions for prospective buyers. It arrived on Nov. 16, 1887. A regular round-trip run of 153 miles was established between Los Olivos and San Luis Obispo. As other railroads took over the mail routes, the stagecoach era came to an end.

Los Olivos is near Cachuma Lake, a large recreational lake that teems with catfish, crappies, bluegill, trout and bass. It is also a haven for boaters. Its coves are quite blue and beautiful.

The largest building is a church, St. Mark’s of the Valley Episcopal Church, which evidently serves the spiritual needs of the entire valley. Adjoining it is an equally large pink building that appears to be a recreational hall. Whatever sinister effects Mattei’s bar may have on the valley, St. Mark’s is there to save the sinners.

The trip was so beautiful that when we came back into the Los Angeles area, we realized how much of that natural beauty has been lost here. The air was murky. Traffic began to be heavy and difficult. The suburbs were clogged with new construction.

All the same, as usual, I was glad to be home. The dogs were glad to have my pork bones, which I had saved for them. My wife fixed the usual vodka tonic before dinner and, as usual, we turned to television for entertainment. We saw three movies starring Gene Kelly, the great tap dancer--”Brigadoon,” which I didn’t care for, and two classics, “Singin’ in the Rain” and “An American in Paris,” two of the best musicals ever made. Of course Gene Kelly was a great tap dancer, but I was reminded that his sidekick, Donald O’Connor, was no slouch. And Debbie Reynolds was absolutely lovable.

As I said of Debbie when I introduced her as a Times Woman of the Year some years ago, “She’s unsinkable.”

Whenever we travel into the hinterlands and are reminded of their beauty, I wonder why we continue to live at the center of the metropolis. Our house has been burglarized two or three times. My car recently was broken into, a window smashed and the ignition ruined by futile attempts to turn the engine on.

But I am not about to leave the city, however, and locate in some primitive backwoods. Whatever faults the city may have, it is the city: teeming, exciting, dangerous and full of opportunities. And it has the Dodgers for better or for worse.

If I had my choice of living next door to Felix Mattei or his wife, Lucy, which do you think I would choose?

* Jack Smith’s column is published Mondays.

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