Paradise Cove, the way it used to be

When we bought the trailer here in Paradise Cove 14 years ago, a series of bruising lawsuits between residents and the park's owners had turned it into a risky investment and home values had tanked. We had a tiny down payment and this was the only place we could afford. Anywhere.

It was quiet here, a mix of families and retirees. There were no car alarms. There were very few golf carts. You knew everyone you saw on the beach.

In the parking lot below the bluff, the Sand Castle, a full-service restaurant, puttered along. It was a throwback, Cape Cod decor on the outside, red leather booths and a slightly stodgy menu on the inside. A loyal clientele of regulars kept it going, though weekends and summers saw an increase in tourists and savvy beach-goers. The only time the Sand Castle was ever truly jammed was during the fall fires, when it became a de facto evacuation center.

And then, Hollywood-style, Paradise Cove was discovered. The Travel Channel aired a breathless piece about "Millionaire Mobile Home Parks." A story about upscale mobile home remodels made the Home section of the L.A. Times (and yes, you might recognize the byline). That story got picked up the following week by Good Morning America, then the New York Times, and on and on and that was that. Within months, the Cove had its first million-dollar mobile home sale. Sure, it was for a place right on the bluff with an amazing view, but still, a million dollars for a trailer? (And no, ours isn't worth anywhere near that. Still, if we were to sell now, there's no way we could ever afford to get back in.)

Since then, two-thirds of the houses on my street have sold at least once, most as second homes used only on weekends. The Sand Castle was also sold and the owners of the Paradise Cove Beach Cafe came in. They've added outdoor seating, outdoor bedding and have advertised everywhere. The place is always booming. And now the Cove is brawling, a collision between the brash and fast-paced outside world and what was once a quiet, sleepy, little beach.

-- Veronique de Turenne

Comments

[Michael Nolan]

I enjoyed Veronique's personal view of Paradise Cove. My own experience dates back to the original television run of The Rockford Files, back in the '70s. My friends and I down here in Corona del Mar (in southern Orange County) watched that show religiously, and eventually any one of us could tell you what episode any character or quote was from. We'd always said one day we'd go visit Rockford's trailer, but we never got around to it. Eventually, we grew up and each of us went his way, but one day in November of 1994, I was serving as host to one of my friends who was visiting from his current home in Arizona. And, inevitably, we decided to FINALLY search out Rockford's trailer.
We were never quite sure where those cove parking lot scenes were filmed, but I got out my 1977 Thomas Brothers L.A. County mapbook (if it was good enough for Jim Rockford, who am I to replace it with a newer edition?), and immediately found the most likely location, a little corner of beachfront near Paradise Cove Road.
The Pacific Coast Highway was surprisingly open and unpopulated along that stretch of roadway, and as we headed north we eventually came upon an overhead green streetsign proclaiming Paradise Cove Road and indicating a left turn only into what looked like a tiny, unexpectedly-placed wood.
The remarkably narrow road stretched up through this mini-forest past a large rustic wooden sign telling you all the things you couldn't do in Paradise Cove . . . including taking any photographs, which wasn't good news for two Rockford pilgrims like us. But in a minute or so of slow driving we next came upon a small guardshack. The elderly gentleman inside was quite nice; although a bit suspicious of us when we confidently stated we WEREN'T having lunch at the Sandcastle, he softened toward us when we revealed our true purpose. We assured him we'd only be there a few minutes, swore we didn't have any cameras, and off we went toward our destination.
Another quick turn, and there we were in Rockford's parking lot. The Sandcastle restaurant was there near the lot's entrance, still in its familiar light blue paint and looking charmingly Cape Cod-ish. The parking lot itself was much smaller than it seems on The Rockford Files, but somehow this lost illusion was replaced by a certain unexpected coziness.
Surprisingly, across the parking lot from the Sandcastle, near the cliff where Rockford's trailer once stood from 1974 to 1980, was another much larger and perminent-looking trailer with a built-on porch. Even more mysterious, it was completely enclosed by a locked chain-link fence well over six feet in height. This, of course, was early November, 1994, just a few days after Pidge (Noah Berry, Jr., who had played Jim's father Joseph "Rocky" Rockford) had passed away. What we didn't know was that they were then filming the first Rockford Files t.v. movie ("I Still Love L.A."); they just weren't filming the afternoon we were there! THAT was Rockford's NEW trailer we had stumbled upon! Despite our assurances to the elderly guard, we did take a few quick photos of each other there in the sacred parking lot. And before we left, I made a point to call another old Rockford Files-watching friend from years back . . . from the payphone outside the Sandcastle. (Boy, was he surprised to hear where I was calling from! I'd caught him while he was watching a Rockford rerun, too!) Not wanting to overstay our welcome as tourists, we got back in our car and drove off, somehow managing to withstand the urge to squeel our tires in farewell.
Since then, I've thought often of Paradise Cove, always intending to return to have lunch there at Rockford's favorite seaside restaurant, the Sandcastle across the parking lot. This morning I decided to see what the internet had to say on the subject, and was saddened to hear it had been sold in '98 and it's name changed. The reviews sounded pretty disappointing, too, to someone like myself, who's spent his life living in a California beach community that --- like Paradise Cove itself --- has undergone the radical changes that result from "discovery." But it was an unexpected pleasure to read Veronique de Turenne's blog, and a pleasure to share my own limited experience at Paradise Cove.

Michael Nolan
Corona del Mar, CA
Dedicated Rockford Files fan

[jeri]

Can you imagine what a tizzy these elitist Malibu residents would have if kids from the inner city walked on "their" public beach. Unless someone is violating the law what right [or authority] do the L A County Sheriff's have to make someone leave a California public beach??? This sounds all to political and not based on Cal law.

[Bill Foote]

It sounds like it was a nice place to live, though I guess you did get the occasional gunshots and the squealing tires of a Pontiac Firebird. I mean, Jim Rockford looks like he was a nice neighbor and all, but I'm not so sure about some of his associates. Didn't Angel drive down land values when he came around?

But hey, back in the day of Philip Marlowe, even Bay City was run-down and affordable. Just look at it now, what with its fancy pier, Big Blue Bus and North of Montana real estate...

[Mark]

Why is this even considered a story worthy for this blog?

[Veronique]

They may be for sale but we couldn't afford them now...

Veronique

[Priced Out Forever!]

If you sold now you couldn't ever afford to get back in?

Someone never took an economics class.

There is a plethora of trailers for sale in your little park.

Guess what?

They aren't selling.

[Kaye Thomas]

We used to love going to the Sand Castle and then walking along the beach at the cove...Sadly most of the little beach towns I grew up around have changed drastically. I miss the old cove..

[Chris]

"Now THAT was a sleepy little beach."

Well, there IS something to be said, at least, for going in a toilet rather than on the ground nearby.

[Tongva Nation]

It sure was nice before the sand dunes and canyons were bulldozed and the crappy trailers, cheapskates, and septic tanks were brought in.

Now THAT was a sleepy little beach.

[Steve Wimer]

Paradise Cove isn't the first So Cal beach to be Californicated. Riviera Beach used to be a quiet beach, but now it's packed with teenagers too lazy to walk to the beach, so their parents buy them golf carts to get to the shore.