FIRST THOUGHTS
At the Benicia Grammar School, that site now holds Benicia Unified School District offices, some teachers had stacks of Life Magazines in their classrooms which had been published during World War II. I often looked at them while eating my brown bag lunch.
Among photos in the magazines which I thought of at the time, and still do, was of trains pulling passenger cars full of men going off to war and flatbed cars carrying the materials of war. Later, that same transportation route took men and the accoutrements of war to fight in Korea. Many trains of those types passed over the tracks which sit on the shore of the Straits opposite Benicia. Some of the men on those trains never made the return trip. I often think of them and what happened to them.
By the way, there were also National Geographic Magazines in those classrooms. Some held photographs of bare-breasted women in Africa which increased the education of male teenage readers.

SHIPS
Some may not believe it, but I saw an oil tanker pass another oil tanker on the port side when each was heading down the Straits towards San Francisco Bay. They obviously were not the huge tankers which traverse the Straits today. The passing occurred at the bend in the Straits basically southeast of the ferry slip at the end of Fifth Street.
I think the ship’s captains must have known each other, perhaps from wartime experiences in the Navy. Or, the captain whose ship made the passing had a hot date somewhere.
It was long before the time “Humble Oil,” for those who remember that original name for what became the Benicia Exxon Refinery and now the Valero Refinery, was built. The tankers would tie up at docks northeast and up the Straits from the city of Martinez.
At that time small oil tankers stopped at the dock which is basically directly across the Straits from East Fourth Street. To the west of that dock, in the hills, were oil storage tanks much like a person sees when they look toward Martinez from Benicia. Decades ago those oil tanks were removed, and the area received a facelift. The hills look much better without the oil tanks.
I know what it is like to walk the deck of combatant and non-combatant ships, including a diesel powered submarine, while serving our country in the Navy. If most people are asked what type of ship is their favorite I think they would say an aircraft carrier or a battleship. Tugboats are my favorite.
For decades I’ve watched tugboats pushing the water out of the way with their bow as they traverse the Straits. They are majestic in their adherence to duty. So often, when they are moving to shepherd a ship up or down the Straits, they have the look in their movement of saying, “I’ve got a job to do and I’m going to do it.” When they return, it often seems they show a relaxed movement, and the attitude, “Yeah, got that done, time to take a break.”
There was a period of time when Brown Water sailors from Mare Island sped up and down the Straits during training exercises. One summer afternoon, during that period, I was in our backyard and heard a distant roar and metallic tinkle which I recognized. It was a boat manned by Brown Water sailors speeding down the Straits past Benicia, heading for Mare Island, and firing blanks from a Browning M-2, .50 caliber machine gun, “Ma Duce.”
When Port Chicago was active for shipping ammunition I saw many ships over the years move up the Straits to load or unload. There were not only ammunition ships but destroyers which made the run. As they should, the destroyers always looked sleek, and even shark-like.
I have always enjoyed, yet felt saddened, watching ships coming up the Straits to mark time in the Reserve Fleet and then taking their last trip down the Straits after serving their time there. It was especially touching when I had seen the same ships in their prime in another time and at another place.

SOUTH END OF MAIN STREET
At one time there was a stucco building at the south end of the beach at the end of Main Street. A pier for small boats extended west from next to it. That beach area was definitely nothing like it is today. It was before the days of the sewage treatment plant being built. To my knowledge, everything from sewage pipes went into the Straits.
People went clamming there. I still have a clamming rake which was used at that site. You could walk the beach, peppered as it was at times with flotsam and jetsam and dead fish, and see where clams squirted water through the sand.
One day two other teenage lads and I went wading off that beach. I guess we had nothing else to do that warm summer afternoon. Again, it was in the days before the sewage treatment plant was built.
The plan was to walk out as far as we could, see who quit first, and turn around and go back. You had to walk, not swim. Hey, guys are guys, and challenges are challenges. In something like that it helps to be the tallest guy, but that isn’t always the case. It helps more to be thoughtful. One lad did the job, got back to shore dripping wet from toes to nose, possibly said something inappropriate, and pulled his thoroughly soaked wallet from his Levi’s. Oops.
To the north end of that beach an LCVP (Landing Craft Vehicle Personnel), a Higgins boat, was positioned with its bow almost touching what would be the sidewalk area today. I often wondered the history of that craft, and the other two which were on the shore between West Second and West Third Street. I thought of where they may have been, what they may have seen, and the men, whose names were unknown to me, who had ridden in them.
Riding in those boats was not a pleasure cruise. I know. A few years after I last played on those Higgins boats I had my time riding in one of their cousins in Southeast Asia waters. The words roll, pitch, and yaw quickly come to mind. Watch a movie such as “Saving Private Ryan” and you can get an idea of the ride.
If you stood on that beach at the end of Main Street at that period in time and looked directly south, and scanned left and right for maybe one hundred yards, you could see where the boat people had their homes. The Bird Lady’s house boat was about 20 degrees to the west off the end of First Street. She was called the Bird Lady because she had a number of bird cages along the railings of her home.
There was once a sheet metal shed at the end of the spit on Main Street. Before I had a car of my own I helped a very good guy wax his car in the shade provided inside that building. There was a small wooden structure to the north of that shed which was used for more than just watery views. It might be referred to as increasing the salinity of the Straits.
There was a winter of heavy rain in the mid-1950s. It was probably an El Nino winter, but I doubt if anyone around here at the time understood the usage of that term which is common today.
During that time there was a day when it was fairly sunny and pretty breezy along with a high tide in the Straits. The area at the end of Main Street was flooded, with sand bags around part of the Lido drinking establishment.
The area was not so flooded that two other lads and I could not ride our bikes there. Every so often when we stopped in our travels and stood straddling our bikes the water came up past our ankles. Hey, we were guys out exploring.
About 20 feet up the street from the Lido we made a memorable stop. One lad, not me, who became a very good high school athlete, got totally off his bike. He stepped to a spot which he thought was the same depth as that in which we had all stood.
Unluckily for him, there was a hole at that location. Long story short, he got more than his knees wet. I do not think he dried off by the time he had finished pedaling home.
Thursday evenings in the summer I make it a point to watch for the sailboats to come out of the yacht harbor and move smoothly across the water. They are miniature versions of the many sailing vessels of yesterday which once dropped anchor in the Straits while waiting to move up the channel to load grain from the valleys. For years a vessel with three masts was beached, bow on, just west of Martinez. Some people said Walt Disney wanted to use that beached sailing ship in a movie. I do not recall the fate of the ship.
Just to the left at the end of Main Street was a cannery which was active for many years. The period it was in operation was before my time. I was told tomatoes and sardines were canned there. When a shipment arrived, a steam whistle was engaged to notify anyone who wanted to work that work was available.
The cannery made for an interesting place to explore, especially the “tower.” As that building, and the tower, got more dilapidated, fate gave a lad or two a challenge to keep from bodily injury.
What was once the city dump basically became the Benicia Yacht Harbor. To me, the most interesting object at the dump was an old car with bullet holes in the right front passenger door. In those days, I saw guys walking down a street and openly carrying rifles. Times definitely changed.
There was a lot of material deposited at the dump which would be ruled pollutants today. Much of the dredged material from that dump site was used to raise the playing field which is east of the Benicia Unified School District offices and Liberty High School. I doubt if that action would pass qualifications today. Originally the grassy surface of the present play field was nothing but sandy dirt. When a person fell on it the result was often a sandpaper-like abrasion.

FERRY BOAT RIDES
Riding the ferry boat to Martinez was always fun. We did it for baseball games and to take bike rides around Martinez. Many times when we went bike riding it would be a hot summer day and the Straits would be like a mill pond. After boarding the ferry we would park our bikes and go to the bow. It was actually a double-bowed ferry. It did not turn around for the trips back-and-forth between Benicia and Martinez.
Often we would purchase a candy bar from a vending machine on the second deck before going to the bow. The ferry would start its crossing, and the movement brought us a cooling breeze. Sometimes, when we came back in the evening, from bike riding or a baseball game, the weather had gotten a little chilly from the summer fog making its route from San Francisco Bay.
In Martinez there was an A&W Root Beer stand where we would buy a cool drink during our bike rides. That site has changed businesses many times through the years.
A field in Martinez is where I hit my first homerun in baseball. It was my first year playing baseball though I had played softball for a few years. The ball went over the left field fence and into a bunch of trees on the other side of the road.
Little League came to Benicia after I was too old to participate. We were playing in what was called the Peanut League. I was a 5′-10″, 150 pound, 13-year-old who had recently graduated from the Benicia Grammar School.

FISH, FISHING, AND ANIMALS
My first attempt at fishing in the Straits was for bullheads off the railroad/ferry pier on the spit. I do not remember the source of my fishing pole. My pole was a composite. I do not mean it was made with space-age material. Somewhere in time the butt end had been broken off, and someone had attached a piece of bamboo to replace it.
My fish knife was a rusty blade with a wooden handle. I had found the knife in the mud along the shore. I wrapped black friction tape around the handle. My fishing kit, which held the knife, and a few sinkers and hooks which I had found or were given to me, were contained in a can.
My second fishing attempt was with my father by Ninth Street. Believe it or not, he/I/we caught a flounder. We walked back with it to our home at 26 Larkin Drive in the Federal Housing Project which was located to the east of East Fifth Street and just past the freeway and it was added to the evening meal.
One day I discovered a shark, about three feet long, washed up on the small beach which had once existed at the end of West Fourth Street. It had spots on it, so I always thought of it as a leopard shark, but perhaps that type shark is/was not indigenous to this area.
There was a drainage pipe which exited towards the Straits in that area and deposited the material it carried at that beach. I do not know what all came from that pipe, but it was definitely aromatic, and the rats liked it. I have often wondered if people who later built homes in that area know of the history of that section of shoreline.
I taught California History for many years. In the 1800’s, I’ve read, a boat crew was rowing from the Contra Costa County side of the Straits to the Solano County side, or to their ship in Southampton Bay, and they saw a grizzly bear swimming the Straits. The Hudson Bay Company, again as I have read, trapped through this area twice a year. It was said by some the initials for their company stood for “Here Before Christ” because they always seemed to precede other trappers to an area.
The biggest mammal I have seen, which came ashore from the Straits, was a dead doe. The deer washed ashore at the small beach which once existed at the end of West Second Street. It had been shot just behind the front legs. It was a good heart shot and must have almost immediately killed the deer. I can only assume the hunter, really a deer killer because of shooting the doe and dumping it, tried to remove the carcass from sight by throwing it in the Straits.
There were deer as close as just north of Military West when my father first came to Benicia around 1920. Men would go into that location and hunt them.
One summer day my father and I walked to the end of Main Street for some reason lost to my memory. What I do remember of that time was his question, “Do you see those deer across the Straits?” I’ve always had great ability to detect movement, but I did not see the deer. I saw some cows, but no deer.
A few nights later I was playing in the outfield in an all-star baseball game at Wilson Park in Vallejo. There was only one ball hit to me that night and I caught it. The problem was the ball looked a little fuzzy as it approached my glove. Shortly after that I had my vision checked for the first time by Dr. Max P. Reed. His office was in the left section of what is now the Indian restaurant next to the Benicia Herald office. Shortly thereafter I began wearing glasses.
At certain times of the year sections of the Straits were dark with flocks of various types of ducks. Two guys, who were complete anal orifices, once drove their outboard engine-powered boat into a flock of mallards. They thought it was great fun. I’m sure the ducks did not enjoy it.

SHORELINE HOMES
At one time it was stated around town that no homes were to be built in the area along where that beach at the end of West Second Street was located and the shoreline would be kept open for public access, but that did not happen. I spent a few hours on that beach hitting rocks as far out into the Straits as I could with a cracked baseball bat. I hit so many rocks with that bat it wound up looking like it had been chewed on by a beaver. OK, maybe I was wrong to hit all those rocks from the beach. Again, I was just a kid.
Just to the west of that beach, basically where the road access for homes in that are is now, is where the two Higgins boats lay broadside near the cliff. More than one lad and lass played on them.

BRICKS
A plant for making bricks was once in operation approximately opposite West Sixth Street. I have been told that one guy got some “free” bricks by crossing the Straits more than once in his small boat, loading up as many as he could, and coming back to Benicia. I understand the bricks helped form a patio at his home.

NINTH STREET
One of my grammar school classmates drowned just to the left of the boat ramp at Ninth Street. I was told he cramped up while swimming to a boat to get a pair of fins the owner said he could borrow.
Later someone entered Rube’s Pool Hall, it was located on Main Street opposite and a little up the street from the Benicia Herald office, and stated to the drowning victim’s brother that his brother had drowned.
The way I was told the story, the person bearing the news said, “Someone drowned at Ninth Street.”
The brother asked, “Who?”
The reply was, “Your brother.”
As I recall, the brother ran all the way out to Ninth Street and then all the way home.

I believe it was about 1955 that a Model T, I think it was, went over the cliff on the north side of the point at Ninth Street. I often wondered if it had been dumped or if someone had committed a big “oops”. I never heard of any injuries resulting from that action.
That beach area, which is so popular now, was once a dumping ground. One uncaring person dumped a load of sheetrock down on it about the same time as the car went over the side.
Late one summer afternoon, about 1959, another lad and I walked out to the end of the point and discovered two cases of empty beer bottles. I regret to say, that, because of the foolishness of youth, we proceeded to throw the bottles as far out in the water as we could.
Of course there was also the successful challenge of seeing if we could break one bottle with the next bottle we threw. We were successful a few times. I wish he and I had not deposited those bottles out there.

One late afternoon I was sitting at Ninth Street, looking at the Carquinez Bridge, and thinking of what I should do with my life. A few days later, two other lads and I joined the Navy. That resulted in my receiving 3 years, 4 months, and 18 days of foreign/sea, blue and brown water duty, in my four years of service to our country. I had many experiences, and many memories. I saw much.
One of the experiences was some of us Bluejackets loading our ammunition at Mare Island before going to Vietnam waters for the first time. As we departed Mare Island, and entered the west end of the Straits, I looked back at Benicia and understood I could have been back there in thirty minutes, but I had raised my hand and was duty bound. I wondered when I would see Benicia again.
The time came when I could come back, and I did.

James M. Garrett has lived in Benicia his entire life. He retired after a career of teaching at Benicia High School. He is the author of “One Great Season 9-0!,”“Benicia and Letters of Love,” “The Mansion Stories,” and the compiler of “The Golden Era,” a history of Benicia High School football from the 1948 through 1960 seasons. Contact him at Jgstoriesnpoetry@aol.com.

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