Savoring walks in a scenic foothill community with a university core

“Where are you two going for your weekend?”

“Claremont.”

“Montclair? Where’s that?”

“Claremont. About 30 miles east of here.”

“Is that all? Don’t you want to take a real trip?”

Actually, this is a real trip, although you’d never guess it from the map. Stroll the streets of this little foothill town, and at times you’d think you were in the Midwest, or maybe the South. Look at it from a certain angle, and you’d swear you’re not in California anymore, Toto.

Until recently, the place could have been Montclair to us. (No disrespect to that fine community, which by some map-maker’s whimsy is right next door to Claremont.) We had whizzed through once or twice on our way east, getting only a quick look at Claremont’s Foothill Boulevard. Seen that way, the town is like a lot of others--upscale chain restaurants, a bank or two, a motel.

The older, hidden Claremont is off the main drag. My wife, Cathy, and I might never have discovered it if we hadn’t gotten a call from some Philadelphia friends who had brought their campus-shopping daughter out for a look at Pomona College. We arranged to meet them for dinner in an area called Claremont Village.

We arrived just about dusk, leaving Foothill behind and driving for a mile down a street lined with old houses and college buildings and overhung with shade trees. At the end was the Village, about six square blocks of small shops and eating places. All up and down the block, storefronts were alight. People strolled under the trees or sat at sidewalk cafes. At one cafe, a young woman sat on a windowsill, playing a guitar for some friends. No neon, no stoplights, no heavy traffic. We looked at each other. What IS this place?

We set up a return trip to answer the question. We invited a couple of friends, Marsha and Ted, to explore with us. Ted, who has led college students on art tours of Europe, once taught in Claremont and is an enthusiastic tour guide.

Getting there is easy, via either the San Bernardino Freeway from downtown L.A. or the Foothill Freeway, which feeds you into Foothill, the old Route 66. At noon, we met our friends at the old Santa Fe Railroad station at the south end of the Village. The station, now a Metrolink stop, is a nice touch of Spanish Colonial Revival architecture from the 1920s.

Everyone was hungry, so we walked up Yale Street (as befits the Village’s college-town feel, two of its main streets are Harvard and Yale) to Yianni’s Greek restaurant for gyros. Then, out into the afternoon for a walking tour of colleges.

Collectively, they’re known as the Claremont Colleges, six schools operating on the “Oxford plan,” which means that students at one college can take courses at any of the others. The campuses stretch from the Village up as far as Foothill, covering about 300 acres. Nearest the Village is Pomona College, the liberal arts cornerstone of the colleges, founded in 1887. Marston Quadrangle, just off College Avenue, is a good entry point, since it’s Pomona’s premier green space, landscaped by the same gent, Ralph Cornell, who did Will Rogers State Park and the UCLA Sculpture Garden.

Roaming north and east, we got a look at the Claremont Graduate University, Claremont-McKenna College (government and economics) and Pitzer (social sciences and humanities). The architecture is a mixed bag--a little neoclassical, some Romanesque, a lot of Mediterranean. But the main theme is green--quiet pathways, towering shade trees. When we got to Harvey Mudd College (science and engineering), the look was uniformly modern; Edward Durrell Stone was one of the designers.

We all agreed that Scripps, the women’s college, was the jewel of the collection. It’s a 1920s campus designed in Mediterranean style, with red-tile-roofed buildings laid out around a peaceful quadrangle. Ted guided us to the secluded Margaret Fowler Garden, along whose south wall is a 100-foot mural painted in 1946 by Mexican artist Alfredo Ramos Martinez.

As we cut back through Frary Dining Hall on the Pomona campus, we were struck by Jose Clemente Orozco’s “Prometheus” mural dominating one interior wall. Apparently considered too anatomically correct when it was completed in 1930, the figure of Prometheus now bears some gratuitous brush strokes.

Dinner was at a spot called Harvard Square Cafe, a hard-to-miss restaurant on Bonita Avenue, right where village meets campus. We picked a table on the large pleasant patio and watched the street life.

Cathy and I had reserved a room at the Claremont Inn on Foothill, a sprawling place with restaurant, bar and conference facilities. Claremont is not big on hotels, and the inn is almost the only game in town. One can find more lodging around the Ontario airport a few miles east.

The following morning, Marsha and Ted having headed home, Cathy and I drove to the Village for breakfast at Walter’s, which has a tented patio and two cuisines, California and Afghan. A lamb omelet seemed to marry the two nicely.

Our second day, we decided we’d prowl the Village and the residential streets nearby. Claremont grew up with the railroad in the 1880s, and the Village, right across from the tracks, was the original downtown. As the city became defined more by Route 66 and the freeways, much of Claremont grew to resemble its neighbor suburbs. But the place had a strong sense of its history, and the Village/campus was protected and preserved.

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Strolling around the shops, one notices the human scale of the Village. The streets are relatively narrow and pedestrian-friendly, and there are no superstores. We spotted only two chains--a Rhino Records and, tucked unobtrusively in one corner of a bank building, a Starbucks. The people on the sidewalks were an eclectic mix of students, retirees and business folk. We passed boutiques and coffeehouses, law offices, art galleries and an old-style pharmacy. We were not surprised that the Civic Center, dating from the 1930s and ‘40s, looks like a Mexican hacienda.

After a quick lunch at the Gold Cup on Yale (sandwiches and frozen yogurt), it was time to range northward into the residential streets. Harvard, Yale and College have a small-town, front-porch America feel--Ray Bradbury’s Waukegan, perhaps, or James Agee’s Knoxville. We spotted well-tended Craftsman bungalows, patrician Victorians, scruffy cottages, all shaded by big sycamore, eucalyptus, sweet gum and pepper trees.

On the three blocks of College north of First Street are several beautifully preserved grande dames, built at or before the turn of the century, that are highlights of architectural walking tours sponsored by the local historical society.

Dinner was at Aruffo’s on Yale, a comfortable, old-style southern Italian place that does a terrific meat sauce. Over the house Chianti, Cathy and I wondered why Claremont is such a well-kept secret and plotted our return trip. After a second night at the inn, we were home in a scant 30 minutes.

“So where did you two go for your weekend?”

“Claremont.” (Want to make something out of it?)

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Budget for Two

Claremont Inn, two nights: $123.20

Dinner, Harvard Square Cafe: 39.50

Dinner, Aruffo’s Restaurant: 49.65

Two breakfasts, two lunches: 66.23

Gasoline: 5.20

FINAL TAB: $283.78

Claremont Inn, 555 W. Foothill Blvd., Claremont 91711; telephone (909) 626-2411. Claremont Heritage (house tours); tel. (909) 621-0848. Aruffo’s Restaurant, 126 Yale Ave.; tel. (909) 624-9624.

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