.Shop Talk

The history of Santa Cruz is filled with big booms and bigger growth.

But nothing like the explosion that came when the University of California first opened its doors in the fall of 1965. It’s a misperception that places like the Hip-Pocket Bookstore opened after the arrival of the university, located on Pacific Avenue near present-day Bookshop Santa Cruz  (actually it came the year before), but it is overwhelmingly true that by the time that Good Times first published in the spring of 1975 a raft of new businesses had opened and catered to the burgeoning population of students that came to our small coastal community.

What is equally certain is that these newly forming businesses felt that they needed an alternative advertising venue to the archly conservative pages of the Santa Cruz Sentinel, then well more than a century old. There were several alternative publications that sprung up around town during that general era (Sundaz, the Independent, Free Spaghetti Dinner, Phoenix and many others), but it was Good Times that eventually captured the lion’s share of advertising revenues and, a half-century later, remains the county’s largest-circulation newspaper.

Imagine that.

What is fascinating about this historical arch is the number of businesses in Santa Cruz that, in one way or another, stretch back to that moment in history and beyond.  My editors at Good Times have assembled a list of nearly 100 businesses that extend back a half century—from Gizdich Ranch (1937) in the south end of the county to Scopazzi’s (1955) in Boulder Creek—and many that extend back to the 1800s—including S. Martinelli & Co. (1868) and Horsnyder Pharmacy (1884). The iconic Brookdale Lodge opened at the turn of the century in 1902.

One of the things that strikes me about this list is how much of my life was shaped and, in many ways, defined by the businesses that compose this list and which I continue to patronize to this day. I still purchase gifts for special occasions from Dell Williams (1927) and take in films at the Del Mar Theater (where I rode my bike to see Help in 1965). There is nothing like a stroll down the promenade at the Boardwalk to foster nostalgia, especially while munching on some sweets from Marini’s (1937). The Crepe Place (1973) was a favorite hang in college just as it is today, albeit at a different location.

I’ll confess that not all memories are grand: I got my butt kicked pretty badly in the parking lot at Henfling’s (1945) but have survived to tell the tale. I still go in there every once in a while for a reality check of one sort or another, though it’s a much more welcoming place than it was back then.

Let us also be honest: Two of my favorite businesses of my youth—Town Clock Billiards and Joslin Brothers United Cigar, both on Pacific Avenue—are no longer in existence, but every time I pass by where they were located, I can still feel their ghosts and the wonderful amalgamation of human energy that they drew to their respective enterprises. Let’s just say they attracted a colorful lot.

And, in the end, that’s what these businesses are all about. Commerce is not simply the exchange of currency for goods. It’s not only about the money. It’s about who we are. For better or for worse, it’s the nature of the beast.In fact, the term commerce derives its current meaning from the French and Latin expressions for coming together for the exchange of opinions and ideas. It is rooted in the basic notions of community, in fundamental conceptions of interchange.

With the advent of the internet (i.e, the dreaded Amazon) and big-box stores, smaller business enterprises have taken a hit, as many of the empty storefronts throughout the county reveal. But in spite of such oppositional forces, small-business dreams still get launched, they find footing and they survive, and if the forces of the universe line up favorably, some even thrive. It may not always make for sexy history, but it’s a noble enterprise. One that sustains us—not only as individuals but also as our collective selves.

Tip a cap to those businesses that have survived the past half-century. Tip another to those that embark on the hard unpaved road to the next.