Malibu Pier.

 Malibu Pier, 

or 

Los Angeles Through a Tourist's Eyes. 

Story Two.

Wow, that's a wonderful photo, don't you agree? 

After reading up on the Rindge family online, I decided to drive to Malibu once more, to visit the land that once belonged to that family, to walk the pier, stroll along the beach, and simply sit on that beach and have a picnic... "A great idea!" my daughter would say. 

So, the story about the museum will wait... Because yesterday I didn't finish telling you about May Rindge! What a woman she was! And did you read the first story, do you remember the "perfect ranch" in Malibu, do you remember the Rindge family? Do you remember May Rindge, the first woman president of a railroad company in California, who won the fight against the Southern Pacific Railroad? If not, read about it here:

https://leonak1.blogspot.com/2025/11/blog-post_6.html

Today, a small follow-up story, still about the Rindge family and the Malibu Pier, which was once the family's private pier.

The Malibu Pier was built in 1905; back then it was shorter and didn't have the two towers at the end.

It was the final station of the private railway, the "Hueneme, Malibu & Port Los Angeles Railway," a line fifteen miles long.

In this photo, with a view of the mountains and Malibu beach, though taken in 1925, the line in the middle is the pier.

Frederick Rindge, the head of the family, passed away in that very year of 1905 (the year the pier was built), so his wife, May, oversaw the completion and operation. Her resolve and active efforts to protect the ranch earned her the legendary title "Queen of Malibu" in the press.

The railway track leading to the pier provided freight transport for the huge Malibu ranch. Agricultural products such as grain and hides, fruits, and walnuts were loaded directly onto platforms, transported to the pier, and then transferred by a steam crane onto waiting vessels for shipment. Similarly, supplies and construction materials for the ranch were offloaded from barges onto the pier and transported inland via the railway. 

The pier also played an important role in the construction of the railway itself. Rails, ties, and other materials were brought to the site on barges and unloaded at the new pier to begin laying the tracks along the coast. The farm in Malibu was a successful enterprise. After her husband's death, May Rindge managed everything. 

Have my stories managed to create an image for you of a strong woman? A successful woman? A woman who kept her word, fulfilled the promise given to her husband, fought against a soulless corporation, a soulless machine? 

An especially strong woman because in the last century (though little has changed now) such things were not expected from women. 

Now let me remind you that May Rindge spent over a million dollars a year on the legal fight against the railroad company, and then against the state, which wanted to lay a road through the lands belonging to her. 

And now, imagine that you are one of that woman's children. And you see how your inheritance—vast lands, bank accounts with seven-figure sums (or perhaps more)—that fortune is melting away before your eyes, your money... no, it sounds like this: YOUR MONEY YOUR MOTHER IS THROWING TO THE WIND, simply giving away a million a year to some greedy lawyers. 

And this family legend about the word your mother gave your father is just a legend to you. Your father was an investor and entrepreneur, and YOU are losing his money too. And what, are you going to stay silent, do nothing? And won't you want that million? 

After all, you understand the futility of the struggle, well, if not against the construction of a private railway, then certainly against the construction of a state highway; you understand that fighting the government is a doomed, losing cause from the start. You know the outcome of this litigation, but the money for lawyers is flowing away—dripping into someone else's pocket... 

Gossiping with Gemini is an interesting business; it (or is it she?) gives different answers depending on the wording of the question, and sometimes the answers even vary depending on the language you ask in. But gossiping about the affairs of people long gone is amusing at my age. 

After a rather long conversation, I got a summary of the story like this: 

The eldest son, Samuel Knight Rindge, sued his mother! 

The son's fight with his mother lasted a long time, from the mid-1910s to the early 1920s, when May Rindge's financial problems and legal defeats became obvious. It most likely began around 1916, when the County Board of Supervisors initiated "eminent domain" proceedings for a portion of the ranch for road construction. At that time, the son demanded the liquidation of his father's business interests and their division among family members. Samuel believed that his mother's desire to keep Malibu as a ranch, to preserve the land intact, in the sole ownership and use of the family, contradicted the will of his late father, who was a businessman and invested in things that should bring profit. The son accused his mother of irrationally spending the family fortune. 

The son won the court case!! 

But even when Samuel gained control of the family fortune (perhaps only partial control), May Rindge was able to continue covering the huge legal costs associated with the road conflict, using the assets of the company that owned the Malibu ranch. She tried with all her might to "delay the inevitable." In total, the legal battle against the government's efforts to lay roads and the Roosevelt Highway lasted about 16 years and cost (just a reminder, in case you forgot!) more than $1 million annually. (That sum won't leave me alone.) 

Who won in this matter? No, no, I don't mean the state... Well, think for a moment... Of course! The large, reputable Los Angeles law firm O'Melveny and Myers, to whom May wrote "endless checks." Incidentally, May called her struggle "the longest, fiercest, and most dramatic of its kind in California history." 

They say that May and her son Samuel never spoke again. 

The mother's relationship with her daughter obviously remained good. (Well, of course, the mother gave her daughter land and a house—Adamson House! I'm just adding a drop of tar, ruining the idyllic picture, well, we're gossiping a little with Gemini, and I'm sharing with you, because it's hard to hear something "interesting" and not tell others. If it's even possible.) 

And May Rindge's will did not mention her sons at all, neither the elder nor the younger: "In the name of the Lord, Amen, I, May K. Rindge, being of sound mind, wish to dispose of my property as follows, if I have anything left. To my daughter, Rhoda Rindge Adamson, and my grandson, Frederick H. Rindge II, who has lived with me since the age of two and is like a son to me, I bequeath everything I possess, in equal shares. And to all others who may lay claim to my estate, I give one dollar." 

Did you notice the phrase "if I have anything left"? Was she worried she wouldn't have anything to live on? Although her understanding and mine on this issue differ too much. And also defining her sons as "all others"... a sad ending. To be practically alone with a squandered fortune and to realize it... However, this is not the fault or misfortune of only one person, because that bequeathed "one dollar" is a sad end for "all others" who expected money or the power that money gives from their mother. 

Would you want to be called "all others" in a will? Would you rather lose money than open a court case against your mother? And you have your own family, your own children... And would you be happy if you got at least one million? Don't rush to answer! 

Do you think that's the end of the whole story? Oh, come on! 

But that's in the next story; for today, enough, let's just walk on the beach, look at the pier, and relax in peace and quiet...

---

Here is the pier in a photo from the beach.

The pier was used exclusively for the needs of the ranch until 1934, when the Rindge land management company (Marblehead Land Co.) opened it to the public for pier fishing and rentals. People still fish from the pier today. But the company, as you can imagine, went bankrupt, and in 1936, the pier was transferred to creditors for debts. 

By 1938, it was extended to its current length, about 780 feet (238 meters), and a small fishing tackle shop was added. 

Somewhere around the 1940s, the pier was under the private ownership of William Huber. 

Can you imagine owning your own pier? Somehow, it doesn't compute in my head. It's as difficult for me to understand owning castles, expensive cars... I'm from the Soviet past.

During World War II, the end of the pier served as an observation post for the US Coast Guard.

But the pier was unlucky: in 1943-44, it was partially destroyed by a storm. 

The owner restored and expanded the pier, building the two famous twin Cape Cod style structures at the end, which housed the tackle shop and the first restaurant.

Later there were several restaurants, but one—Alice's Restaurant—was especially famous. The place was iconic (and what do you expect: the ocean, the beach, a resting place for movie stars!). There was also a very popular song "Alice's Restaurant," easy to find on YouTube.

Huber decided to sell the pier in 1980, as it was in need of repair. 

The State of California acquired the historical landmark for two and a half million dollars. 

Is that it? 

No, "that's it" is not the definition of what happened to the former property of the Rindge-Adamson family.

Storms and El Niño in 1993 and 1995! The pier was severely damaged, the pilings suffered. It was deemed unsafe and closed to the public. Restoration required many years of work, until 2008, and eleven million dollars. 

Now the pier is a popular recreation spot.

At the entrance (on the site of the former Alice's Restaurant), you are greeted by the Malibu Farm Restaurant: breakfast, lunch, and dinner, operating on a "farm-to-table" principle. Everything is fresh, grown on local farms.

The prices are a bit high (but what's cheap now?). 

But the good food, as people write online, comes with views like these.

And at the far end of the pier is the Malibu Farm Pier Cafe, which is more casual.

I didn't plan to go into the cafes: I have my sandwiches, tea, and vegetables packed. (Broccoli—broccoli!—along with carrots, cucumbers, and tomatoes! And you don't eat raw broccoli? Has your doctor not advised it yet? I envy your age.)

So for me, with my old "blankie," which I've had since my son's childhood, it's off to the beach. 

Can you imagine, you come to Malibu too, you wander onto the beach, but you don't have a blanket, you unfold a beach chair (I have one in my car trunk too, but it's heavy to carry), you get comfortable and sit, watching the waves roll in, watching the birds...

Everything is lazy and slow...

Only some little birds are fussing near the water.

And, by the way, this is a unique reserve! 

You'll never guess what kind of reserve. Think about it, I'll give you a minute, don't read the next paragraph yet. A bird sanctuary? Well, some rare gulls, cormorants, pelicans... (oh, how limited my list is, I don't know birds at all). Or is it a reserve because dolphins or whales swim here? All right, I won't torture you. 

It is a World Surfing Reserve. (Yeah... What a turn... we couldn't have guessed that.) The internet importantly writes that Surfrider Beach was officially declared the world's first World Surfing Reserve in 2010. As someone maximally far from surfing, I stupidly (I apologize to myself, but that's the precise definition) read that Surfrider Beach is famous for its long, right-hand waves that break at three points: the first is ideal for longboards and beginners, the second is a faster wave for advanced surfing, and the third is the biggest and fastest break, popular among experienced surfers. Some "right-hand" waves... Are there left-hand ones? It turns out that "left wave, right wave" is one of the fundamental concepts in their sport... 

Did you know that? You might ask me, why do I need this?! You have to broaden your horizons in different directions. Especially in retirement! After all, you can't... no, you can, but not constantly... just sit on the beach and stare at the waves.

Although watching the waves is entertaining. 

In the morning, the beach was practically empty. Then came the time for the surfers, but they weren't riding yet, they were waiting for the wave... That very right-hand one...

Then people like me came, just to walk on the sand, to sit on the beach...

Then a group of teenagers went out on kayaks...

It looked very colorful.

Then came the time for dog walkers...

Then several... I was thinking how to describe them: desperate? crazy? risky?... decided to go for a swim.

Why so harsh, you ask? The average ocean water temperature in Malibu is 16-17 degrees Celsius. Just read about cold shock, hypothermia, hyperventilation... and I haven't listed everything yet.

California State Parks lifeguards perform about ten thousand water rescues every year. This is not a movie. On average, about 125 people die annually in coastal waters. The Pacific Ocean is not a children's pool! Only its name is calming.

(Something bothered me in the previous paragraph. Let me re-read... "Then came the time for the surfers... then the youth went out on kayaks... then the dog-walkers came to exercise their pets... and the beach came alive..." Oh, there's literary influence here! Didn't you feel it? It already happened, only unlike my text, it was brilliant: "The hour of the milk-women struck. The wooden blunt-nosed carts rumbled over Starogorodsky Boulevard, and from each cart hung one milk-woman, resembling a barrel corked with a chintz scarf. After the milk-women came the water-carriers. After the water-carriers came the city itself." Did you remember? So where is the quote from? Alright, alright, don't be angry, I don't quote that much, Ilf and Petrov, of course, The Twelve Chairs.)

After noon, everything was repeated in reverse order: the beachgoers left for lunch (ah, they didn't have broccoli to chew on!), the young people on the colorful kayaks came back to shore, a group of surfers in hypothermic suits (I think that's what they're called) walked past me.

They walked past me... past... walked... past... the impression, to be honest, was eerie: the suits were black, water was dripping from them, adults and teenagers walked, absolutely silently, they emerged from nowhere and disappeared into nowhere. Aliens. Don't believe me? Take another look. 

And I'm still lying here, looking at the museum—the "Adamson Family House."

A seagull has settled down nearby.

To keep things from getting boring, let me tell you a story?

This is where the fanfares should sound, music should play, a loud, clear female voice should begin to read: "Now—exclusively for you! The story of how surfing conquered the world! Malibu! The snow-white sands of the beach! Hollywood!" 

I wish I could, but I'll have to tell it quietly...

The spot where I'm sitting is the cradle of surfing. (No, not entirely true; the cradle of surfing is Hawaii.) In the 1950s and 1960s, Malibu became the epicenter of surf culture. (And this is the post-war era! I still sigh for the '60s, the time of my childhood and my parents' youth.) Young people here, in Malibu, just like young people all over the world, had their idols, their own language. The main passion was board riding. The sport was exclusively male, by the way, at first. 

In the mid-1950s, fifteen-year-old Kathy Kohner (now Kathy Kohner-Zuckerman) was one of the few girls trying to ride the waves, which, just a reminder, was almost exclusively a male pursuit at the time. She was small, about 5'0" tall and 95 lbs in weight, so one of the surfers gave her the nickname "Gidget," which is a fusion of the words "Girl" and "Midget." (I don't speak English that fluently, but even I understand that Midget is offensive. If this nickname were given to her today, it would certainly cause criticism due to the use of an outdated and offensive word. But in the context of that time and the girl's personal acceptance, it was more of a good-natured, ironic nickname, plus it brought her fame. So let's not be offended on her behalf.)

Kathy kept a detailed diary about her summer adventures, romantic experiences, and surfer slang. Her father, screenwriter Frederick Kohner, read these entries and was so inspired that he wrote a novel based on them: Gidget: The Little Girl with Big Ideas (1957). The book instantly became a bestseller among American youth. Two years later, the book was adapted into a film, starring Sandra Dee. In 1965, a comedy series with Sally Field in the main role was released, which made the character even more famous. The film and book were the first to introduce the image of surfing and the culture of Malibu to a wide American audience in the post-war era.

Before Gidget, surfing was a local, almost secret passion. After her, it became a national sport, which sparked a boom in the sale of boards and clothing (and eventually led to overcrowded beaches, which old surfers often regretted). Gidget also became a symbol that girls could surf. She inspired a whole generation of young women to pick up a board and get into the water, challenging the male dominance in this sport. But Hollywood can't stop; a whole genre of "Beach Party Films" emerged, which also contributed to the popularization of a whole musical style: Surf Rock. 

More about nicknames. 

Didn't you have any in childhood? Even in school? I don't believe it. I was called Chicken, by association with my last name. It wasn't offensive then, but now... no, I wouldn't start a fight, I'd rather just ignore the person. And ignore them forever. 

How do you like the nickname Moondoggie? 

In the book and the movie, Moondoggie is the positive Hero, Gidget's crush and boyfriend. A cool, ideal surfer, strong but kind... Well, the father made up a lot of things in the book! Or exaggerated. 

There was a real person, Miki Dora, known as the "Prince of Malibu," who hated the Gidget films and books, considering them naive, the hype around them vulgar and commercial, and the surfers who came to Malibu after the films as "a bunch of hodads," which can be softly translated as "clueless beginners." And unlike the sweet "Moondoggie," Miki Dora led a more unpredictable lifestyle: he was known for his cynicism, rebellious spirit, and eventually even had problems with the law, which did not prevent him from becoming a legend among surfers. 

That's the story. 

That's where it all started. 

Malibu is an iconic place, a "reference point" for modern surfing culture in California and around the world. Surfrider Beach was chosen for its "star quality waves, fundamental role in surfing history, and strong local community support." 

There are now thirteen surfing reserves in the world. 

(Do you want a list of countries? Please: USA (Malibu and Santa Cruz, California), Australia (Manly-Freshwater, Gold Coast, Noosa), Portugal (Ericeira), Peru (Huanchaco), Mexico (Bahía de Todos Santos, Baja California), Chile (Punta de Lobos), Brazil (Guarda do Embaú), UK (North Devon), Costa Rica (Playa Hermosa), El Salvador (Oriente Salvaje – the newest reserve). 

Can you imagine the temptations for surfers? How much they must want to travel the world? 

And it all started here. 

On this beach in Malibu. 

Coming here for half a day to relax is a dream. I used to come just like that. (Although what do I need to rest from in retirement? From resting?) 

I came to wander along the long beach...

to find seashells washed up on the sand...

... or a sea urchin shell (very tough and spiky, by the way, a very unusual, intensely purple color)...

... or the shells of crabs and lobsters eaten by birds...

... or to track a boat cutting through the ocean waves somewhere on the horizon.

It's a good place to sit, to clear your head of unnecessary thoughts... 

The place had no past for me (which is good in its own way). Now I look at these massive mountains, the blue sky, the blue ocean with different eyes.

If you come to the beach in Malibu, remember this story...

P.S. 

On one of my trips, I saw a car standing on the pier. Someone's antique. 

Another time, tables were being set on the pier, most likely for someone's wedding. 

Did you see the length of the tables? The average cost per person is $120–150, plus wine, taxes, tips, security...

"California will remain ours as long as the stars exist," remember? 

Still, it will remain this way—California is a state for the rich, and Malibu is for the very rich. 

I can have lunch here in the restaurant, or a snack in the cafe (though not every day), but a wedding like that... no. 

And what's most interesting is I don't understand why. I don't have that many friends and relatives, and even if I did, I wouldn't be able to exchange a couple of words with every guest at such a dinner. It's a different world...

For those interested in Gidget's fate. She got married, had two children, and worked as a teacher all her life. Her father sold the film rights to the book for $50,000 (a considerable sum for the time, but not astronomical), and he gave his daughter 5%. There is an interview with her on YouTube:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aVyLeCmlCXA

Oh, and what happened to the "Movie Colony" founded by May Rindge? No, I have to postpone that for now, show you photos of her daughter's house, take you through the garden of the "Adamson House," because I promised a long time ago.

That's in the next story.