The Newport Harbor Buffalo Ranch

Photo by Google Earth

On the corner of MacArthur Blvd. and Bonita Canyon in Newport Beach stands a statue of an animal that looks out of place.  You might expect the sculpture of an American Bison… Buffalo… to be found in Wyoming, Kansas, or Montana, but no. There in the middle of some of the most valuable real estate on earth stands a lone bronze buffalo, contentedly looking out at the cars as they pass. But why here?  Because at one time, that very corner was the center of buffalo country, Orange County style.

As we have said here before, California history is rich with tales of dreams that hit it big, or fade into obscurity, and many entrepreneurs came up with attractions to garner tourist dollars.  Orange County seemed an especially appealing place to bring animals to roam the open spaces that once rolled for miles without a house in sight.  There were ostrich, deer, and alligator farms, bird sanctuaries and one very large development dedicated to a variety of African animals called Lion Country Safari.  More on that later.

In 1955, a different sanctuary sprang up, founded by Irvine Company’s Gene Clark and Chief Cuthle Geronimo III, great grandson of famous Apache warrior.  They secured a large 115-acre site in Newport Beach, California.  Clark wanted visitors to come to a wildlife park, drive among the live bison, and stop at the Porter Western Store to pick up souvenirs. There was a train and a fire engine for kids to ride. He named it the Newport Harbor Buffalo Ranch, “the West’s Largest Buffalo Ranch!”

Porter’s store was constructed to resemble a barn, and adjacent to the barn stood a tall, white silo where you could purchase a delicious buffalo burger… fresh off the farm made from one of the former residents.  In fact, for a while Knott’s Berry Farm would occasionally purchase one of the animals for their own Buffalo Burger nights.  

Several Native Americans relocated from Kansas for the park and would greet visitors to explain the fine points of native culture and buffalo hunting. They built a small, touristy Indian village, where you could watch live demonstrations of tribal dances. They ran a petting zoo with other farm animals like goats and sheep.

72 Buffalo were the first residents, arriving in November of 1955.  The population grew to around 100, but timing is everything.  There were other attractions opening across Southern California, and the Buffalo ranch had a hard time competing with Knotts, Disneyland (both of which also had Indian villages), and Marineland of the Pacific in Palos Verdes. The ranch couldn’t keep up. Though plans had been made to build a conference center, the expansion never materialized.  The herd dwindled, and the ranch closed just four years later.

Many of the bison remained for years, even as the neighborhood homes sprang up around.  Ford Motor Company built a facility across the street, bordered by MacArthur, Jamboree, and Ford Road.  The University of California, Irvine was sprouting up on nearby land, and campus designer William Pereira accepted a contract to also create the layout of the city of Irvine.  He needed a local office. Being a lover of barn buildings, Pereira converted the Porter building and dubbed it “Urbanus Square.” He kept four of the animals: Becky, Happy, Rainbow, and Lucky. 

But in five years, even Pereira had to move out.  The land was just too ripe for development.  A Huntington Beach man named John Cogorno took Happy, Rainbow, and Lucky to his ranch to live out their remaining days.  Becky was sold to the Orange County Fairgrounds, where she later gave birth to a calf, Tatonka. 

The bronze statue is the only remaining evidence, standing behind a plaque on the corner by the sidewalk. It marks the Ranch as follows:

“In 1954, Myford Irvine granted a 115-acre lease to the Newport Harbor Buffalo Ranch for a sightseeing attraction in this location. The Buffalo Ranch provided a glimpse of the colorful days of the Old West with buildings, cowboys, chuckwagons, and Native Americans. The ranch was home to over 100 bison that were overlooked by Chief Cuthle Geronimo III, grandson of the famous Apache chieftain. The original Buffalo Ranch buildings, designed in an authentic western style including a barn and silo, were located on this corner.”

CALIFORNIA Has Moved

Today’s OCYDS is a tale of an iconic Orange County attraction that has made a change of address.

The Walt Disney Company, under the direction of Michael Eisner, came up with the idea to open a second theme park located adjacent to Disneyland. Eisner wanted to create a somewhat educational park that featured the history and treasures to be found in California. Disney’s California Adventure opened on February 8, 2001. There was a farmer's market. A wine courtyard. And a boardwalk area complete with crashing waves underneath.   

The weather that opening day was wet and dreary and did not contribute to the overall impression made on awaiting fans.  In fact, the park was a dud. DCA, as it has come to be known, drew only minimal crowds.

Large cement letters spelled out CALIFORNIA a few yards in front of the entry, which was done in an aqua, art-deco style.  Inside on both sides of the entry were two enormous mosaic works of art depicting several California sights, such as the redwoods, Malibu, Avalon, windsurfers and playful sea creatures leaping from the waters offshore. 

Photo from Yesterland.com

Connecting the two sides, Disney created a decoration to the existing monorail track that resembled the Golden Gate Bridge in San Francisco. If you stood in the right spot looking from the esplanade between the two theme parks, you could pose family members among the letters of CALIFORNIA to create a photo that really looked like a postcard.   Extra points if you could time your photo to the exact moment the monorail crossed the bridge.  The letters themselves were popular picture spots. 

The Park was not.

The theme, design, and educational mission were lost on the superfans that overpopulated the internet.  Eisner had no idea how powerful an underwhelmed cyber-fan base could be. There were no lovable Disney characters to be found… at least very few.  There were not enough attractions to fill a day, and half of them were problematic.  A ride in a “SuperStar Limo” arriving at a film premiere? Yawn.  A movie with a very politically correct presentation of Californian history starring Eisner’s pal, Whoopie Goldberg? 

Puleeze.

For ten years, the park struggled and faltered.  Eisner was booted out of Disney, and Imagineers set to restyle the park with less pedantic, more fun attractions.  They rethemed attractions to include Marvel Superheroes and Pixar stars.  The entry way was restyled to a theme of Hollywood when Uncle Walt first arrived, complete with Red Car Trolleys and a new statue of Walt and Mickey arriving in town.

A Sun Icon sculpture was replaced with a restaurant designed to look like the Carthay Circle theater (where Snow White premiered). The Sun Icon was reportedly sold to the city of Anaheim, but has yet to resurface.  And the mosaic, once the biggest mosaic to be found in the United States, was crushed into powder, providing builders material for terrazzo floors in other attractions.  

Photo by Phil Kampel Photography

As for those CALIFORNIA letters: there is good news. They were carefully removed and shipped to their new California home in Sacramento.  Gracing the entryway to the State of California’s State Fairgrounds at 1600 Exposition Blvd, Sacramento, the letters still stand tall and picture ready, just as they did in Anaheim.  The fair runs the last two weeks in July (the 12 ^th – 28 ^th ), so if you are up for a little nostalgic road trip this summer, be sure to drop by. 

The Castle of Kron Street

Back in the eighties, a man’s home was his castle. 

At least Haym Ganish thought so, as he began making modifications to his tract home in Irvine.  Haym wanted his home to be spacious and grand, and spent money and good labor turning the house into his own palace, more than twice the size of the original.

The Kron Castle, prior to demolition

But Haym forgot one thing.  Cities frown on people making their own modifications without first ensuring the plans meet all the necessary building codes, and secondly, that permission is granted by both the permitting process, and by local Homeowner Association CC&R’s (Covenant, Codes, and Restrictions).

That was where Haym and his wife Fern got in trouble, because, as luck would have it, Haym’s neighbors were less than enthused about the growing Ganish home.  The house was doubling in size, with turrets and stonework that made it appear intimidating and out of place. The neighbors complained to the city. The city sent inspectors. And citations were issued aplenty.

Not only was the place ugly to the neighbors: it was downright dangerous.  Electrical wiring and jerry-rigged scaffolding stretched across great expanses.  Walls were left unfinished, and some load bearing walls were compromised.  In all, Haym Ganish was ordered to bring the place within code in a few short months, or risk having the place demolished by the city.

Ganish protested, and took his plight to the public.  The Los Angeles Times and Orange County Register were fast to report the growing fracas.  The Castle on Kron street was quickly becoming a popular destination for drive-by Lookie Lou’s, further enraging the neighbors who just wanted to live on a quiet, family-friendly cul-de-sac. News vans from all the local television stations arrived.

Add to Haym’s woes; a shrinking money supply.  There was no way he could pay for such a fast turn-around from firetrap to chateau.

“Well,” said Mark Bailey, the owner of a nearby (but not in Irvine, goodness no) topless bar known as Captain Creame’s. ”Here is my chance to get a little good press, for a change.” So Bailey sent some of his regular contractor customers along with a couple of girls for the cameras to Hyam and Fern’s house with $65,000 and manpower to get to work on the eyesore.

It was a lovely media circus, but in the end, there wasn’t enough time to effect the changes.  By now, the city’s resolve to boot the Ganish’s out of their castle was weakening when it looked like they might actually have to send in Snidely Whiplash.  So over the next few years, they worked with a completely disgruntled Ganish, as the house was slowly and painfully brought to code.  Meanwhile, the neighborhood stewed in discontent.

An empty lot is all that remains

Today Haym’s castle is no more.  The Ganish’s moved to Los Angeles, Captain Creame’s (whom the Ganish’s actually sued) was closed once El Toro became the Great Park, and the Castle of Haym’s doomed kingdom was leveled early in May of 2019. Now it is just an empty "camel lot." 

The good news is that the neighborhood is once again happy, as they await whatever new construction will arise from the rubble. Let’s hope for a good one.

Pirate Tower

William E. Brown was a California State Senator in the 1920’s.  His politics were progressive, and campaigned using the slogan, “Let the people rule.” He was particularly known for his attempt to outlaw prize fighting which he felt were brutal slugging matches that fostered illegal gambling.  His legislation failed, and in the 1920’s he decided to retire from politics and move his family to pristine Laguna Beach.

He built his home on a bluff above Victoria Beach with sweeping vistas up and down the coast, with the sun setting daily (how else?)  by or behind Catalina Island.  The spot was perfect, except for one thing. Even though the house was right on the water, high on the bluff made it a long and sometimes difficult walk to the beach below. So William came up with a plan. He would build a staircase to the beach, and disguise it as an old lighthouse.

photo by roadtrippers

Nearly 100 years later, the lighthouse still stands, thanks to the many who have resided in that home since Brown passed on, including singer-actress Bette Midler, who spent some good time and attention restoring it.  The Divine Miss M no longer lives there, but owners are careful to keep their personal landmark well maintained.

During the 1940’s one of those owners was a man named Harold Kendrick.  Kendrick was a retired Naval officer, and evidently quite a character.  Kendrick was known to frequently dress up as a pirate, and swagger around town telling tales of treasure to be found down by the tower on Victoria Beach.  He would place coins around the tower for children to find, and soon everyone was calling Brown’s staircase “Pirate Tower.”  The name continues today.

Since it is actually built on public property, from time to time the California Department of Parks and recreation checks out the structural worthiness of the building. They describe it saying “the architecture of the house and tower are closely interwoven with the natural precipitous quality of the cliffs… The style on both is outstanding. The house rightfully serves as one of Laguna’s landmark homes.”

Pirate tower is a popular sight for those in the know.  Next door neighbors have also built a tower reminiscent of a medieval castle to disguise their staircase too, so the rocky outcrop has a bit of a Game of Thrones feeling to it.  One caveat: Time your visit carefully, because you can easily be caught by high tides.  You can get to Pirate Tower via any of the public access pathways to Victoria Beach. Parking along Pacific Coast Highway can be tricky, so be careful, and follow the signs.

Andrew Dreger's Clock

Andrew Dreger’s family were some of the earliest pioneers in Southern California, coming from Germany and settling in a general area especially known for German immigrants.  The German community stretched from Anaheim all the way to the coastline just about where the Orange County, Los Angeles county lines meet.  Anaheim Landing was built, and the German-now-American farmers were able to ship their produce all along the California Coast.

Dreger had an amazing mind for mechanics, and honed skills as a blacksmith, bicycle repairman, and watchmaker.  He was highly skilled at repairing and making timepieces, and had a workshop at his home in Long Beach. It was there that he  got the idea to build a large mechanical clock utilizing a motor as a driver.  He completed one, but thought he could do better.

The second iteration is a work of art.  It took nearly five years for him to complete it, and when it was finished, he installed it outside his Long Beach home in 1933.  There it stood for twenty years. Upon his death, his family sought a place for the clock to reside so it wouldn’t suffer the whims of whoever any future tenants of the home might be. They were disappointed to learn the city of Long Beach was not interested.

Along came Walter Knott, who had this splendid little Berry Farm in Buena Park, CA.  The Dreger clock was moved out by the ticket booths and was crowned with plaques that said Knott’s.  There it resided for over 50 years. But in 2006, it was clear the Dreger Clock was in certain need of repair… and adjustment in time standards!

But first, a little description of the clock.  The four-sided clock originally stood fifteen feet tall, and features not only local time, along with eleven more time zones.  It also shows the phases of the moon and the day and date as well.  It is run by a single 110 volt motor, and all the movements are geared or mechanically manipulated (including a bicycle chain).

Especially unusual though is that Drager’s clock was originally built according to the solar time standard, instead of traditional time zone designations. The end result is that cities like London or Moscow showed different… but accurate second hand settings. 

In 2008 the Buena Park Historical District purchased the clock… or more accurately rescued it from being sold on Ebay. They began a long restoration process, this time aligning the second hands according to the more accepted time zone configuration.  The date and phase of the moon dials were completely restored, and a new base was built.

The Drager clock now stands at the "Plaza Buena" park near the Whitaker/Jaynes House on Beach Blvd (at 10th street across from the City Hall) running perfectly. The fourth face features a plate that tells about Andrew Drager.   

Bennett Rock

Jerry Bennett liked rock, but not the roll.

Along the route of the proposed CA241 transportation corridor sat a very large boulder that posed a logistics problem for Bennett.  The new toll road was destined to go right alongside the ground on which it sat, and the engineer hated to see it go in the name of progress.

The transportation corridor had been planned for decades, but actual construction of the south county short-cut to the 91 never found funding until the early 1990’s, when construction began. There were the customary environmental fights, and even a controversy involving some native American burial grounds.  Today disagreement still continues regarding the final stretch originally intended to connect the 241 to the 5 freeway by San Onofre.  It is unlikely to ever resolve. 

The road provides plenty of visual interest along the way with sweeping views toward the ocean, and layers of various red and white materials as it approaches the junction with CA91.  The toll road runs along much of the Irvine Ranch property that was donated to the state to be preserved as open space, including a stretch above Irvine called Tomato Springs, which we wrote about earlier. 

Bennett was named construction manager of the project, and when he discovered one particular boulder that was adjacent to his construction site, he was impressed.  Standing tall above the construction site just to the east, Bennett thought the monolith needed to be preserved, so as they worked around the adjacent land, he instructed workers to do all they could to ensure the ground below it was well supported.

But that year, the storms were mighty, and one day workers reported to duty only to discover that the ground below the stone washed away, and the boulder had rolled into the canyon below. Bennett’s pet project was destroyed. Sadly, he passed away before the road was completed.

Yet you will note that today it appears the stone has remained.  Appearances can be deceiving, because the original rock that fell could not be recovered.  To honor Bennett, three workers volunteered and hauled materials and tools to the top of the hill.  There they reconstructed the thing, in much the same way movie sets are produced. Made from concrete and completely hollow, they matched the new rock perfectly to its surroundings, and they dubbed it “Bennett’s Rock.”

It has been twenty-plus years since it was built, and Bennett’s rock still stands.  You can see it on the east side, south of Santiago Canyon from either direction. 

So, Long, Frank Lloyd Wright… Jr.

On the corner of Springdale and Warner in Huntington Beach sits a worn grave marker. 

Nothing too unusual about that.  Orange County has its fill of cemeteries with stone markers. But this one is unique.  It isn’t in a cemetery.  In fact, it sits behind an Arco gas station.

No, it isn’t for the former gas station owner. Or even the owner of the strip mall that sits behind it. And while Google Earth doesn’t drive through every shopping center to capture details, the Google cam car evidently got tipped off to take a special spin past the back of the gas station and get a picture of the marker. There on an otherwise unnecessary little patch of dirt behind the waste disposal cage sits a simple stone tablet dedicated to a bad idea that died on the site.

Everyone knows Frank Lloyd Wright.  Famous architect, writer and educator responsible for over 1000 groundbreaking structures… though if you think about it, every structure has a groundbreaking.   Wright also was a father to seven children, including his namesake, Frank Lloyd Wright Jr.

Lloyd Wright was also an architect, and created many fine structures in Southern California, including the Hollywood Bowl, and Wayfarer’s Chapel, a glass gem in Palos Verdes, and many residential projects that remain today.

But one project faltered, and that brings us to our humble little Arco station in Huntington Beach.  Lloyd Wright took on the design of the Westfield Shopping Center for developer Stanley Fann, which included plans for a 94’ tower to mark the center as a tribute to Huntington Beach’s oil industry.  As you can see in the rendering, above, it was a doozy.

It seems the locals weren’t very keen on the idea of living in the shadow of a towering eyesore. So they rallied together creating a petition to vote the thing out of the plans.  The will of the people prevailed, and Lloyd Wright was run out of town.  It was to be his final work.

Just to pour salt on the wound, Fann erected the marker to commemorate the event. It reads

“In recognition of Lloyd Wright’s 94 foot high sign tower that was to be erected on this spot. It’s defeat is symbolic of the democratic process in which we live. The people did not wish this sign tower to be erected as they felt it was not needed and would blight their community. Their wishes were heard and adhered to by the developer Stanley Fann. 1970”