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The Honorable Paul W. Egly 

Story by MARRIE STONE

“Honorable” was the word conferred on Paul W. Egly in 1963 by Governor Ronald Reagan when he was appointed to the Superior Court of Los Angeles. But being declared honorable by judicial appointment is one thing. Being an honorable man is quite another. It comes from within. The decisions Judge Egly has made throughout his life, both on the bench and off, are consistently one thing…honorable.

Born in 1921 in Covina, a small town then ripe with oranges and discrimination, Judge Egly remembered the days of segregated swimming pools – no Latinos or African Americans allowed. The town had an ordinance making it illegal for black people to stay over night. 

Growing up steeped in racial intolerance and well-versed in history (he obtained a bachelor’s degree in history from UCLA), Judge Egly had strong opinions about discrimination. Those opinions would become the subject of excruciating controversy later in his career. But let’s not get ahead of ourselves.

The sacrifices required of war

Judge Egly was drafted into WWII and sent to Germany during the war’s climax, though he rarely speaks of his time there. “A few days ago I asked Paul, ‘Don’t you want to tell me more about it?’” his wife of 34 years, and former Mayor of Laguna Beach, Jane Egly, tells me as we all sit together in their north Laguna home. “He was sitting in his chair. He bent way over, faced the floor, and said, No.” Jane pats her husband’s arm. “You can stick with that, dear.”

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Photo courtesy of Jane Egly

Paul Egly – a handsome young man in uniform

There was, however, one war story that stood out. Judge Egly was tasked with evacuating all the Americans from an East German hospital shortly after the war ended. A Russian general in charge of the operation ordered that no American would leave the hospital until everyone else had been evacuated. “He didn’t even raise his head when he said it,” Jane says. It took Paul nearly four weeks, working alone, to get everyone out. By the time he finished his job, Russians were outside, hanging people from the lampposts. He told Jane there was nothing to do but walk away.

Judge Egly listens to his wife tell this story before saying, “It’s more fun when we get back to California.”

But it took Judge Egly a while to return to California. First, there was law school at George Washington University (GW). Then he returned to Europe after the war, working in the US Occupation Courts in Germany, before opening a practice in Covina.  

A heart for justice, a mind for law

Judge Egly’s superior reputation on the Superior Court was no surprise. He took to the law instantly, knowing within two days of arriving at GW he’d landed on the right career. Jane says Judge Egly was known for his ability to distill massive amounts of material, absorb all the arguments made by opposing sides, and quickly hone in on the central issue. He applied his legal mind to a variety of cases, as he was willing and able to tackle anything that came through his door.

In a 2013 interview for La Verne Magazine, Judge Egly recounts a story from his early years practicing law. “In those days, people expected you to know what you were doing regardless of the kind of case. It was fun. There was a case that came in at four in the afternoon,” he said. “A woman wanted a will, and I had no gas for the car ride home. She asked me how much I would charge her, and I said $2. In that time, gas was 17 cents a gallon, so that $2 got me far.” Judge Egly even took criminal cases on a pro bono basis. “I didn’t make any money, but I enjoyed every minute of it.”

After a decade practicing law, Paul Egly was appointed by Governor Pat Brown to the Municipal Court in 1963 and, later that year, by Governor Ronald Reagan to the Superior Court of Los Angeles. He would serve on the bench until 1981.

The bus stopped here:

Crawford v. Los Angeles Unified School District

 Arguably the most seminal, and tragic, case of Judge Egly’s career came nearly a quarter of a century after Brown v. Board of Education. He was about to embark on a painful life lesson: doing the right thing would not always be rewarded. 

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Photo courtesy of UCLA/Photo by Joe Kennedy

Paul Egly seen through a school bus window

In the early 1970s, Egly successfully ordered the San Bernardino school district to align itself with the Brown decision and desegregate its schools. Several aspects of Judge Egly’s desegregation ruling in that case still stand: magnet schools, incentive pay for bilingual teachers, and year-round instruction were all part of that order. 

But a decade later, and 60 miles away, things wouldn’t go so smoothly. White Angelinos were loath to put their children on buses. As Patt Morrison wrote in an LA Times article in 1997 reflecting on the case: “It was an unlovely time in this lovely place, the shrieking suburbs vs. the shouting city, aggrieved white vs. angry black vs. out-of-the-loop Latino, armed school guards put on patrol the first day that thousands of kids stepped aboard buses, death threats and recall threats, the tragicomic effort to halt busing as a pollution risk.”

Judge Egly recounts the hundreds of threatening letters he received over the four years he worked on the case. He remembers a man who sat in the front row of his courtroom each day, wearing a sign saying, “Recall Egly.” His name, it was said, became the most popular four-letter word in Los Angeles. The turmoil claimed the health, and life, of his second wife. It took a dramatic toll on his psyche, if not his career. And the whole matter ended in a whimper, instead of a bang, as busing ceased when Proposition 1 passed, declaring his ruling unconstitutional. Segregation seeped back in. “Like some sort of embarrassing love affair: it ends—pfft—and nobody wants to talk about it,” Morrison’s LA Times article reported.

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Photo courtesy of Jane Egly

Paul Egly – Superior Court Judge

Egly came to think about the Crawford case as a kind of death, requiring post-mortems and autopsies, trying to diagnose precisely what happened. Doing what he felt was right, and being demonized for it, was difficult to accept. In its aftermath, he left the bench. “All that stuff about noble decisions. It’s BS. It’s the law of the land that changed me. Black is beautiful to me now. It’s that simple,” Egly said in a 1981 interview with the Claremont Courier

Egly sensed discomfort even among his colleagues who disagreed with him, as though their moral compasses may have covertly pointed in directions different from their stated opinions. “What does it mean, I’ve sacrificed my career? My career is in my head. Right?” 

That statement strikes me as the very definition of honor.

Making a case for service

Judge Egly’s career didn’t end with Crawford. He continued teaching, which was arguably his first passion. The U.S. Constitution, he said, had become his religion. Egly founded the University of La Verne College of Law in 1970 while still serving on the bench. He acted as its dean and taught constitutional law for 34 years. He loved nothing more than watching students’ eyes light up when they hit on some understanding. “It’s like a blossom blooming into a flower, seeing them begin to understand the cases,” he said in his La Verne Magazine interview. “You enjoy it with them; you learn with them and try to make it more interesting.”

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Photo courtesy of L. Gilbert Lopez

Judge Paul Egly with L. Gilbert Lopez

Egly also co-founded Judicial Dispute Resolution, Inc. in 1990, an independent, neutral panel of private judges hired to hear cases outside the court system. He took a wide variety of civil cases over the years. He also worked tirelessly in Laguna alongside James Dilley and others to preserve the city’s greenbelts.

Never losing sight of what’s important: 

The judge’s battle with macular degeneration

Judge Egly began his battle with macular degeneration just after retiring from the bench in the early 1980s. He lost his sight over the course of years, the world slipping away slowly over time. And, with it, his freedom. By the late 80s, he could neither read nor write, but he moved with Jane to Barcelona for a year, enjoying his final time with vision. “I know no one who adapted to that problem the way Paul did,” says Jane. “It was just remarkable.” Judge Egly sought out Braille and books on tape. “He still reads more than most of us,” says Jane. She shows me his tape recorder, saying he’s always got a book going.

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Photo courtesy of Jane Egly

Paul Egly at play

After 34 years together, their marriage still feels playful. “I think he married me because I could drive,” Jane laughs. Given that her husband has said she “was the luckiest thing that ever happened to me,” I’m guessing it’s more than Jane’s driving that kept them together. She remains in awe of his many accomplishments and proud of the legacy he’s leaving both on the bench and in Laguna’s greenbelts. 

Hard lessons learned from the bench

More than once during our interview, I reflected on the many battles Judge Egly fought over his storied career, and wondered aloud whether we’d made as much headway as I’d once hoped for. But Jane was quick to remind me of our country’s progress, particularly for women.

I returned home and sat with an article Judge Egly wrote nearly a decade ago, after being asked by the late Donald Dunn, dean of La Verne’s College of Law, to pen a post-mortem piece about the Crawford case. “The following pages will help with the understanding of the rocky marriage between politics and the court in public policy matters,” Egly wrote. What followed were 55 pages of long lament by an honorable man still – 26 years later – struggling to make sense of what had happened. 

He concluded the piece by saying, “It has taken me a while to understand that the best of legal principles can never become public policy unless embraced by a substantial segment of public opinion.”

I reflected on a few of the best legal principles our courts have upheld in the last decades – reproductive rights, marriage equality, immigration laws –often without the full support of public opinion. Honorable roads aren’t easy ones, but they’re unquestionably worth the fight. 

It’s unclear to me whether Judge Egly ultimately found solace in his decision. Maybe solace is less important than the legacy left behind. Progress, after all, is rarely a straight line, but more often a string of circuitous paths blazed by brave men like the Honorable Paul Egly.


Dr. Gregg DeNicola of Caduceus takes great care of patients, including many gallery owners and artists

Story by SAMANTHA WASHER

Photos by Mary Hurlbut

Dr. Gregg DeNicola looks at his overall medical career like a basketball game. For the first half of his career he practiced in Yorba Linda. After 19 years there, he says he wanted to change things up for his second half. As a kid growing up in Covina, for Gregg, Laguna was a regular destination. 

“The first year we came down was 1969; it was the first year we had cars. We stumbled onto the Sawdust Festival, it was much more hippie-ish back then, more our age people. We loved it,” remembers DeNicola. So when it came time to decide where to begin his second half, he found an office near Three Arch Bay and rented it month to month, until 2007 when he found the place where he practices now: Caduceus on Thalia. 

Finding Caduceus on Thalia

Caduceus is a family practice. Originally, Dr. DeNicola says he thought he was going to be a pediatrician, but when it came time to put that choice on paper during the “match” process (where med students select their field and top choices for residency) he balked, feeling it was too limiting. He was an obstetrician for his first 19 years in practice. Now, as a family practitioner, he gets to see the whole family.

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Dr. Gregg DeNicola at his medical practice, Caduceus on Thalia

“Why would you want to retire?”

“Back when we were in our mid-40’s my friends were always saying, ‘We’re going to retire by the time we’re 55.’ I never really got that. Why would you want to retire?” he asks. Even now he says people ask him almost daily when he’s going to leave the hustle and bustle of his medical practice behind. “I say, ‘Why? That’s silly! I’m a block from the beach. I have the best patients. Why would I want to retire?”

Fundamental changes in health care that are not for the better

That’s not to say that there aren’t some things about practicing medicine that he wouldn’t like to alter. In a change he calls “disturbing,” DeNicola laments the turn away from the idea that the patient comes first to that of the payer coming first. 

“Whether it’s a PPO, an HMO, or a concierge service, with every patient the first question is ‘How are you paying for this?’ When I started out, five, ten, even 20 years ago we didn’t worry so much about getting paid. Now, if you have a 15-minute office visit, half of that time is committed to satisfying the paperwork. It used to be all the time went into the patient.”

Another example DeNicola gives regarding these changes is that his office now has three full time certified “coders” who assist in ensuring the charting the insurance companies demand is done correctly. “This is just one example of how money that used to be spent on patient care is now going towards the business end of things.”

Finding Laguna to be a special place to practice medicine

And that’s just one more reason, perhaps the biggest reason, DeNicola loves to practice medicine in Laguna Beach. “My practice works out really well in Laguna Beach,” explains DeNicola. “We take (all forms of insurance and payment), even Medicaid. We see gallery owners and artists gratis and are grateful to be able to do that.” Yes, you read that correctly. Dr. DeNicola sees artists and gallery owners for free.

Part of the reason is because DeNicola is a huge art fan. “I love art. I can’t draw at all, but I love art. I always have,” he says enthusiastically. He got into the local art scene by going downtown and walking through the galleries, the fairs and festivals.

“Then it evolved into artists bringing their work in. All of it is for my patients. I love having them come in here so we can talk about art,” he says. Which is how he came up with the idea to treat artists and gallery owners for free.

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Paintings by local artists are prominently displayed at Caduceus

Giving back to artists and gallery owners with free medical care

“I realized by talking to the artists that if they had a cold they couldn’t afford to see a doctor. I thought it would be an easy thing to do to help them out. I have never bartered for art,” he adds definitively. “But, I am a business man as well as a doctor.

“And by doing right it has also paid off in other ways when the artists’ families and friends come in. We only ask that they be a local artist or gallery owner. I couldn’t afford to help every artist in Orange County,” he says. 

As for why gallery owners, he says they struggle, too. “They can go weeks and weeks without a sale. I’ve lost a lot of gallery owners who have had to move out of town. Of course, they’re in it to make money but they all love art. That’s a tough field,” he says appreciatively.

A resident of Orange, but a life made in Laguna

Appreciation is something DeNicola has a lot of for Laguna Beach. Although he lives in Orange, he says he spends more time here than many people who live here. “My life is here”, he says. He’s so entrenched, he is the president of the Laguna Beach Historical Society. He came to become involved in the organization when he stopped in to see the Murphy Bungalow, which serves as the Historical Society’s headquarters.  “They had a form and it asked ‘Are you willing to help us out?’” DeNicola remembers. He marked “yes” and they promptly called him and asked him to sit on the Board. That was 12 years ago. 

The more things change, the more they stay the same

DeNicola says that the thing that surprises him most about how Laguna has changed over the years is how much things have stayed the same. “I’m shocked by how much it hasn’t changed. Laguna is so united. It’s a very traditional community,” except, he adds with a laugh, “Not its politics.” 

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Dr. DeNicola’s examination room is quintessentially “Laguna”

A true appreciation of Laguna Beach and its history

By learning the town’s history, DeNicola says he has a deeper appreciation of what makes Laguna special. “It’s really a unique place. I don’t know another community like it…maybe back east?” 

That’s the reason why, if you come to see Dr. DeNicola, you will find his waiting room chairs set in a circle. “I did it that way so people could talk to each other. You can hear people strike up a conversation, ‘Are you going to the Patriots Day Parade this year?’ Things like that. It just doesn’t happen in most other cities.”

Of course, DeNicola acknowledges that even in this special place, things aren’t perfect. “Even though we have our trials, I know as a community people are trying to get things fixed,” he says. 

DeNicola says it bothers him to see the empty theater and Hotel Laguna, among others. “It’s very disconcerting,” he says. But not enough to diminish his appreciation for his (almost) hometown. 

“We have a gem here,” he says. “It’s such a special place, and has such a special feeling. It’s a wonderful place to work, live, shop.” Dr. DeNicola’s enthusiasm for Laguna is only matched by his enthusiasm for practicing medicine…in Laguna.


Lenny Vincent: Laguna’s Spiderman and much more

Story by DIANNE RUSSELL

Photos by Mary Hurlbut

Entomologist, tango enthusiast, professor, photographer, archivist; which word doesn’t fit? Sounds like a question on a test. But for Lenny Vincent, they all fit. These are just a few fascinating facets of his life, and to those who read Creature Features, he’s Spiderman, the expert source of endless information on insects. 

“Perhaps you may be interested in writing a story on the, unfortunately, maligned yet beneficial spiders of either Orange County or Laguna Beach,” Lenny wrote in an email last summer. And I was. Now, because of him, residents know about several local species of spiders, where to find them (if one so desires), their various webs, and their titillating and complicated courtships. 

A debunker of insect myths

Graciously, upon request, he continues to debunk the myths and mysteries of the insect world.

A resident of Laguna Beach for over 30 years, he knows his spiders and he knows Laguna, especially the wilderness areas. Lenny has been teaching entomology and biology for 36 years; at University of California, Berkeley from 1974-81 (part time), Georgia Southern University from 1981-86, and at Fullerton College from 1986-2015. He is now a Professor Emeritus at Fullerton College, and teaches part time, although not this term.

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Lenny with Silas and Charlie

With a stunning view of Catalina and San Clemente Islands, Lenny has lived in his South Laguna home for 21 years. Curiously, it’s absent of the expected framed insect collections. Instead, it houses two other species; two dogs, a Beagle named Charlie and a Shar-pei mix (Lenny thinks), the handsome Silas, and two desert tortoises currently in hibernation under the house, Ompahpah and Bristowe, gifts from a student in 1993. 

“Tortoises live to be 100 to 150 years old,” Lenny says, “so I’ve had to find someone to take them over.”

No gallery of insects to be seen

Out of sight, but not out of mind (mine anyway), his spiders are confined to another room that serves as the lab. And in place of those anticipated assemblages on his walls, is a display of his beautiful photographs of insects and plant life. 

Surprisingly, one area is filled with black and white pictures (not taken by him) of tango dancers from a tango tour he went on. But that will come later in the story.

Lenny’s stepson, Matthew Haim, a student at San Diego State, walks through the living room on his way to school for exams. No, he’s not studying entomology, but something of the spider world must have rubbed off on him, because he did write an article on the brown widow spider that was published. Matt’s a business major (and writer) and has a local connection. He works at the Front Desk at Hotel La Casa de Camino.

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Collection of spiders in Lenny’s lab

As we wait for the dogs to howl at a passing fire engine, which Lenny says is quite a spectacular show, but sadly doesn’t materialize, the question of how and when Lenny decided to devote his life to insects and make it a career, comes up. “While I was in high school in Cleveland, Ohio, I would collect and curate insects and sell them to other students for biology. I did that for a couple of years.

Interest in spiders peaks at graduate school

“Then I majored in biology at California State University at Northridge and took courses in entomology and liked it. When I went to grad school at University of California, Davis, I was interested in Medical Entomology, but when people would ask about spiders, I was drawn to that, so I switched to arachnology,” he says.

He then went on to get his Ph.D. in Entomology at UC Berkeley.

And his enchantment with insects never waned. Just last summer, he and a former student made quite a find. He frequently hikes in Laguna Wilderness Park to search out and photograph spiders, and during one of these treks, they found an undescribed species of jumping spider. 

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In-house lab

“It will take a specialist in jumping spiders to describe a new species, and that could be a long process,” says Lenny.

A longtime wilderness supporter, he’s been on the Board of Directors of Laguna Greenbelt since 1995. He is also the President of the Board of Directors of the Schlinger Foundation, and has been on the board since 1998. A non-profit founded by a former Entomology Professor at UC Berkeley, the Schlinger Foundation just recently provided a grant to aid construction of the new Laguna Canyon Foundation headquarters. 

Hopes children will reconnect with nature

Lenny says, “By bringing children into the wilderness, I hope they’ll gain a connection with nature that’s been lost.”

If all that isn’t enough to keep him busy, for the last 10 years, he’s served as archivist for the American Arachnology Society, which entails, as he explains, “Archiving letters from retiring arachnologists for the Smithsonian Institute.”

During Lenny’s unrelenting study of spiders, he has compiled a remarkable and extensive OC Spider website, and it’s in the process of becoming a pictorial guide through a grant (for printing costs) from the Schlinger Foundation. Although it won’t be finished for a year, the guides could be a resource in places like Nix Center.

One imagines an entomologist to be sequestered in his lab all hours of the day and night cataloging insects and who knows what else (and I don’t mean the activities of the scientist in The Fly). Yet seldom does one picture “a man of the insects” out tangoing. But Lenny’s not your average entomologist (if there is such a thing). 

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Does that smile mean Lenny is dreaming of the next night out tangoing?

When he turned 50, he started taking West Coast Swing lessons, which led to ballroom, and then the tango. Every few days, he goes to Avant Garde Ball Room or Atomic Ballroom to dance. About 10 years ago, he went to Buenos Aires on a tour of tango clubs, which he says, “Aren’t too flamboyant.” Although in the pictures on his wall, the women do have roses in their mouths.

As if all this weren’t enough, Lenny finds the time to lecture a few times a year at The Audubon Society, the Environmental and Nature Center, and other organizations on subjects such as the biology of spiders or insects.

It’s endlessly intriguing why someone devotes an entire life to the study of one thing. When asked what other profession he might have wanted to take up, without hesitation, Lenny says, “If I had the skill, a cellist, but I have zero musical talent. I know, I took voice lessons for two years.”

Well, it might have been impressive to add that to his list of accomplishments, but right now, the “unfortunately maligned” spiders of Laguna, and the supporters of the Laguna Wilderness are glad he didn’t become a cellist.

For all you ever wanted to know about spiders, go to Lenny’s spider guide website, ocspiderguide.com.


Captain Jeff Calvert: Happy to serve Laguna Beach

Story by SAMANTHA WASHER

Photos by Mary Hurlbut

Many young boys say they want to become police officers when they grow up. Laguna Beach Police Captain Jeff Calvert is one of the few who actually followed through with his boyhood dream. “I still have a report from when I was in fourth or fifth grade when I interviewed a police officer,” explains Captain Calvert. That first interview may have planted the seed, but a career day encounter with a law enforcement officer during his senior year at Laguna Hills High School, grew the seed into an emphatic career decision. “After that I knew what I wanted to do,” he says.

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Captain Jeff Calvert, a 22-year veteran on the Laguna Beach Police Department

When an enthusiastic Calvert went home that day to share his career of choice with his father, his father wasn’t nearly as excited. “He said, ‘You’re not doing that,’ remembers Calvert. His father was a businessman and he assumed his son would follow suit. But fate intervened.

A well-timed ride along

“When I was 20 my friend got a job with the Sheriff. He asked me if I wanted to go on a ride-along. Well, he got called on a Code Three and we got to drive with the sirens on, on the opposite side of the road…when it was all over I knew it was exactly what I wanted to do,” remembers Calvert. He broke the news to his dad and enrolled in the Police Academy. His dad eventually came around. “When I graduated, I had never seen my dad so proud,” he says.

An “eye-opener” for a first job

Calvert’s first job was with the Los Angeles County Sheriff’s Department. He worked in Norwalk. “That was an eye opener for a kid from south Orange County,” he says. Eventually, he came to the Orange County Sheriff’s Department and worked at the Intake Release Center (IRC) for three years. The IRC is a maximum-security custody facility. “I learned all there is to learn about running a custody facility,” he says. And then fate intervened again.

Making his way to Laguna

“My heart was always in Laguna,” he explains. He even applied for a job with the LBPD right out of the Academy, even though there weren’t any openings. Finally, in 1996 he had his chance – a position became available at the LBPD. Taking that job has led to a 22-year career in a myriad of positions from patrol officer to undercover narcotics to sergeant to lieutenant and now captain. And Captain Calvert couldn’t be more pleased. 

An unusual partnership with the community

“I’ve always had a strong desire to help people,” he says. Helping them in Laguna is particularly rewarding. “Generally, the relationship between the police and the community ebbs and flows,” he explains. “I haven’t seen that here. The community here has always supported the police department.” And that support isn’t something Calvert, or the department, takes for granted, as witnessed by the department’s commitment to community outreach, in addition to trying to provide the best service possible.

Innovation is encouraged

Calvert leads the Investigations and Support Services Divisions. Field Services, led by Captain Jason Kravetz, and Civilian Services, led by Jim Beres, are the other divisions within the department. Under Captain Calvert’s leadership a Homeland Security Maritime Team, an Unmanned Aerial System (UAS) program, K-9 program, a Know-Your-Limits program and many other innovative programs have been implemented. Listening to Captain Calvert explain each of these programs, it is clear how much he relishes his job. “Everyday I’m energized to come to work,” he says earnestly.

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Captain Calvert in the Dispatch Room at the Laguna Beach Police Department

An appreciation for learning – and Trojan football

Captain Calvert is also motivated to expanding his skill set. He received his Masters in Executive Leadership from USC Price School of Public Policy. “I drank the Kool-Aid,” he says with a laugh about his passion for USC – and its football team. Calvert is also a graduate of the FBI National Academy. “That was an unbelievable experience,” he says enthusiastically. “I was never one to really love school, but as I’ve gotten older I’ve come to really love learning and being part of something that is bigger than myself.”

A small town with a relatively sizable police force

Now, I, probably like many Laguna Beach residents, wrongly assumed the LBPD was a small organization (small town = small police department). Captain Calvert helped disabuse me of that idea. Despite a residential population of 24,000 people, Laguna’s police force of 52 sworn officers is considered relatively robust. The average force nationwide is made up of 10 sworn officers or less. 

A “well-rounded” crew

The reason for Laguna’s sizable force is the six million annual visitors we host. However, despite its size, Captain Calvert insists that the force is “well-rounded.” He uses the dispatch center as an example, “They do police, fire and marine safety,” he says. “They are a very talented crew down there…their skills are unique.”

New ways to keep unsafe drivers off the road

Additionally, the 133 drinking establishments within the city’s nine-mile limits can keep the officers busy on any given night. “Laguna Beach has more DUI arrests per capita than any other agency in the state of California,” explains Calvert. So programs like Know-Your-Limits, where officers enter bars and gently and unobtrusively ask people if they want to test their blood alcohol level, are a proactive way to help prevent a tragedy (or at least a DUI). “Thirty three percent of people who think they’re not at a DUI (level) are,” says Calvert. The participants in the “test” are given a $20 Uber credit to help make sure they get home safely.

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Captain Calvert in the driver’s seat with Chief Farinella in the Patriot’s Day Parade

Facebook as a crime fighter

Another thing Captain Calvert oversees is the department’s social media team. Its purpose is two-fold. Most obviously, it serves to humanize the department. “We use humor and the community has really responded,” says Calvert. “The Instagram account is more ‘life behind the badge,’” he explains. Their Facebook page communicates about crimes and things going on in the community. “We have solved three to four crimes with our Facebook page,” says Calvert with a chuckle. “It’s a terrific investigative tool for us.”

A deep appreciation for the community he serves

He again credits the community for stepping in and making a difference, as well as the people he works with. “It’s a team effort. It’s the amazing people I work with who care about their profession and the community. As for the community he serves? “I’ve had an amazing career here,” he says. “I have friends all over the country who just don’t have the community support that we do (in Laguna).”


Glori Fickling: The woman behind (and inside) the 

1950s private detective series Honey West 

Story by MARRIE STONE

Photos by Mary Hurlbut

This year, Gloria (Glori) Fickling again turns the age she’s always turned…29. Now, she says, you only have to hold that number up to the mirror. 

If ever a woman could convince you age is only a number, it’s Glori. She still exudes the same sense of fun adventure and daring flair for fashion she had 70 years ago when she met her late husband, Skip, while crawling backwards out of a hotel window wearing nothing more than a bikini. (Stay tuned for more on that story later.)

Best known for their collaboration on the first female private detective series, Honey West, that debuted in the 1950s, Glori and Skip celebrated a storied career.

We sit for a few hours – outside the home she and Skip built together in 1953, overlooking Laguna’s village with the church bells ringing below and the sun setting across the Pacific – and hold up that magical mirror on all the “29” glorious years of Glori’s life. 

Fashion first, fashion always

Fashion and a sense of style may be woven into Glori’s DNA. Born in Brooklyn and raised in Queens, fashion had been on her brain since she could remember. “Ever since I was a little kid, in my head I would be designing clothes,” Glori says. Before meeting Skip, Glori’s early career revolved around apparel. She worked for Women’s Wear Daily, the bible of the industry at that time. 

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The always-glamorous Glori in her library

Glori also became a fashion consultant for May Company, choosing all the clothing for their photo shoots. “In fact, I designed the first line of maternity clothes,” she says. Glori’s boss at the time grew jealous of her early and swift success, giving her only a small line in the magazine for her progressive designs.

Fashion became a theme of Glori’s life, influencing not only the concept and character of Honey West, but defining Glori’s sense of presence in everyday life. She’s known for her big-brimmed hats and trendy outfits, vogue jewelry and enviable shoes. Glori will never be caught looking anything less than the best dressed.

Except that one time…

Seventy years ago, still single and on a Catalina Island adventure with friends, Glori got locked inside her hotel room. With no other means of escape, and wearing only a rainbow-striped bikini, she took matters into her own hands. The window was low to the ground, but navigating it in a bathing suit made an entertaining scene. 

Skip Fickling sat on a railing outside her room, watching her progress. “Well, aren’t you cute,” Glori said once she made it to the ground. Skip asked her out on the spot, but Glori already had a date. 

Fortunately for Skip, Glori’s date turned into a disaster. Like a scene straight out of their later Honey West novels, Glori had to physically fight the man off. “The guy tried to nail me on the table,” Glori recalls. “I took my two feet, threw him across the room, and ran like hell back to the inn.” 

Skip was there waiting.

They spent a sweet weekend together. And, on Sunday, Skip accompanied Glori to church. He held her hand throughout the service. In a later 1959 appearance on the show “You Bet Your Life,” calling up this story, Groucho Marx asked Glori, “Why was that? Didn’t he trust you when the collection plate came around?”

The two eventually eloped to Las Vegas, getting married at one of those little chapels on the Strip. “The lady who stood up for us…she was only wearing a bathrobe, for crying out loud,” says Glori. “I asked her name. Skip thought that was so funny I wanted to know her name. But it was very sentimental to me. For god’s sake, I was getting married.”

A peach of a pair

Glori and Skip may have modeled their marriage after Glori’s parents. Glori talks about her father, Frank Gautraud, with some of the same reverence she has for Skip. “He was God’s gift to mankind,” Glori says about her father. “He had such a sense of humor. Mom and Dad were always laughing.” 

Her own marriage felt full of that same fun love. Skip and Glori loved travel, they loved Las Vegas, they loved working together. “A peach of a pair.” That’s what she called them.

“When you have parents who love each other all the time, you know you’ve got a chosen life,” says Glori. And Glori’s life has felt chosen.

How Honey was born

Twenty-first century women know the strength of being both smart and sensual. But in the 1950s, women who survived on bravery and wits, with more than a little sex appeal on the side, were a new breed. Skip and Glori were the perfect couple to usher that woman into the mainstream.

Honey West was based on Glori’s vivacious personality, Marilyn Monroe’s classic looks, and a Mike Hammer style hardboiled detective. A blue-eyed blonde bombshell with curves that wouldn’t quit, not to mention wit and wiles, Honey West was the first female private eye in American crime fiction. Named after the common and relatable pet name “Honey,” and “West” because, well, she lived in southern California. Out to avenge her father’s death, Honey was known to be “the sexiest private eye ever to pull a trigger.”

Writing under the gender-ambiguous penname G.G. Fickling (a nod to Glori’s maiden name Gloria Gautraud), the couple wrote 11 novels. Titles like “A Kiss for a Killer,” “Girl on the Prowl” and “Honey in the Flesh” all were born before the feminist movement took off across the country. 

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Honey West: “the sexiest private eye ever to pull the trigger”

This led to the eventual launch of a 1960s television show directed by Aaron Spelling and starring Anne Francis, who sported a tight black jumpsuit and sleek sunglasses, and kept company with a pet ocelot named Bruce. While the program only lasted one season, it became the precursor to later shows like Charlie’s Angels, Cagney & Lacey and Police Woman. 

Glori’s office is a shrine to Honey. Bookcases are crammed with copies in several foreign languages. Posters, dolls, memorabilia, and a long line of hotel room keys collected from their book tours line the shelves and walls.

“Her bravado, her great spirit, that’s what Skip saw in making me the role model,” Glori said in an interview last year with the Orange County Register

Glori’s great spirit

I ask Glori about her great spirit, and what she believes sets her apart. “I’ve always been so outgoing,” she says. “If I ever see anyone sitting alone, I always ask them to join me.” 

But, she tells me, there was one time she did not, and this led to one of her greatest life regrets. Once, Glori and Skip were having lunch and happened to see Marilyn Monroe sitting alone. “Almost any other time, I would have invited her to join us, but I was so humbled. She was gorgeous, like a glass doll.” Monroe felt untouchable and intimidating. It seemed too much of a stretch to ask.

Glori feels if she would have reached out to Monroe, told her that Honey West was based on her image, it might have made her day. As she recounts the story, it’s as though Glori feels the weight of responsibility in not alleviating some of Marilyn Monroe’s pain. “If I’d done that,” she says. “It would have been so cheering. What a foolish thing. Every other time, I would always ask.”

Not everything is easy

Glori forever looks on the bright side. But life doesn’t always offer its brightest sides, no matter how lucky you are. And in the mirror of her 29 years, there were some rough times.

At 14, Glori contracted a virulent case of rheumatic fever, forcing her to leave her home in New York, move away from her parents, and live with family in California. “The doctor said I had to get to some warm climate. I had relatives who lived here, and my mother sent me out.” 

It was a childhood illness that took her away from friends and family, but it led her west, to the great state where she’d meet her husband and make Laguna Beach her final happy home.

The hardships didn’t end there. Glori and Skip lost their first child shortly after his birth. The hospital made a mistake, sending Glori home when they shouldn’t have, resulting in complications they couldn’t control. This sunk her into a deep depression, one she wasn’t certain she’d crawl out from. But, she says, this heartbreak prevented Skip from having to fight in the Korean War. He knew Glori might not make it without him home. The couple went on to have three sons, three grandsons, and now a great-granddaughter. 

Years later, they would have lost their home in the 1993 Laguna fire, but for Skip’s training in World War II. He knew the roads, how to drive at night with the lights off, how to crawl through the brush and sneak back to the house when it was surrounded by police presence. That decision saved their home. Skip saw a hot-spot building next door and was able to contact the fire department in time to squelch it. Another lucky break, Glori tells me.

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Glori displays some foreign editions of the Honey West series

But Glori’s greatest loss was Skip, who passed in 1998. Skip had prostate cancer that he opted not to treat and, ultimately, it spread to his brain. “Meeting Skip was the great blessing,” she says. 

This is Glori’s way – turning every misfortune on its head to see the happy sides. Even as she tells me she doesn’t know why she’s lived this long, feeling like she should “give others their turn,” she recognizes she still has more life to live, and more to give the world.

Laguna’s latest grand marshal

At five o’clock, when the bells ring again and I think I should go home, Glori goes in the house to fetch us white wine, and we talk some more. Because with a life lived like Glori’s, there’s a lot to say. 

Glori is Laguna’s latest grand marshal. She’ll march at the head of the annual Patriot’s Day parade. This seems like an ideal choice. Forever the fashionista, the eternal life of the party, still dressed to kill, it’s little wonder Glori is Laguna’s darling. “This is my biggest honor,” she tells me. 

The road ahead

Always ahead of her time, Glori keeps facing forward, looking toward the future – to the possibility of bringing Honey West to the big screen and excited about her role as grand marshal. She’s still writing, anxious to contribute her talents wherever she can, still attending Thursday art walks and local events.

Like Honey, Glori is unstoppable. She’s a force of beauty and brains, style and ability. Her nails are perfectly painted, her makeup impeccably applied, her words carefully chosen. Nothing about Glori is left to chance. 

But what strikes me most is Glori’s warm acceptance, her willingness to say “yes” to life, to take in the stranger at the next table, and to turn every tragedy into an optimistic opportunity. Maybe that’s the secret to eternally turning “29.”


Patrick Fetzer: A childhood paper route takes an unexpected turn and lands him at Laguna Cyclery

Story by SAMANTHA WASHER

Photos by Mary Hurlbut

Patrick Fetzer, owner of Laguna Cyclery, speaks eloquently about the feelings he had as a kid in Texas when he got his first bike, and the freedom it granted. But it was a love of music or, more specifically, a desire to become a member of the Columbia Records Club that really first launched his passion for riding. 

“The only way I could get the money to join (the Records Club) was to earn it so I got a paper route. I threw papers seven days a week using my mom’s ten speed bike,” he recalls.

Necessity breeds a lifelong love

Because the papers were heavy and balancing was tricky, Fetzer says he “crashed a lot.” So he found himself at the local bike shop – a lot. Hanging around there waiting for his bike to be fixed he says he became fascinated by the posters of the Tour de France riders on the shop’s walls. “I was a BMX kid. I thought people who rode ten speeds were dorky. But I was struck by the intensity of the Tour riders (in the posters).”

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Patrick Fetzer, owner of Laguna Cyclery, and his trademark dreadlocks

A paper route leads to a love of racing

Eventually, Fetzer says, he’d deliver his papers and then continue on with his trusty ten-speed going on longer and longer rides. “I was 12-13 years old. My friends are sitting around doing nothing. I’m out riding 30 miles and I’m really feeling my independence,” remembers Fetzer. His dad took notice, bringing home a flyer for a bike race. Fetzer says he entered it and finished fourth. 

“All these guys had these really fancy bikes. I was so intimidated, there with my cheap bike. But I was bitten by the bug.” And the bug has yet to release its jaws.

A trip to California leads to a surprising conclusion

Fetzer came out to California in 1996 to attend a bike convention. “I had just graduated from college, the University of Texas. I was working in a bike shop, but I had a college degree and didn’t want to keep turning wrenches,” he says. His boss encouraged Fetzer to go with him to Anaheim to attend the convention. With resume in hand, Fetzer made the trip west. 

A romance leads to Laguna

While the convention was the reason Fetzer came to California, it was a romance that got him to stay. During his stay, Fetzer met a woman who would eventually become his wife. She settled in Laguna, which is how he came to settle in Laguna, on Agate. “We left Texas in a record-breaking snow storm,” he recalls. “I thought that was a good sign.”

Still hanging out at the bike shop

Fetzer did a lot of odd jobs in the beginning of his life in California, but he was still involved in riding. This involvement introduced him to the bike shop on Thalia, housed in a big red barn, next to The Stand. The owners of the shop were a husband and wife team who had previously owned and successfully sold two other bike shops. “It surprised me there was no bike scene in Laguna,” says Fetzer. “The owners, they struggled with it. Laguna is a peculiar community.” The owners mentioned their intention to sell the business. Fetzer didn’t have the money to buy it and things went along as before.

Some prodding, a loan and no more cubicles

Then, a year later, his wife was inspired. She wanted him to own that bike shop. “She calls me and says, ‘You can do it!’ At the time, I was working for a civil engineer, in a cubicle, hating it…so I set out to get an SBA loan which wasn’t very easy.” One of the requirements was that Fetzer had to take an eight-week business course. “I learned more in those eight weeks than I did in four years of college,” he says with a laugh. May 1, 1999 the business was his. 

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Patrick Fetzer with his kids, Luke and Lauren; Luke rides and both are fixtures in the shop

This bike shop has some serious history behind it

With almost 20 years in business under his belt in the big red barn, it would be understandable if Patrick just concerned himself with his own tenure there. However, he is quite a historian of the space his shop inhabits. 

Laguna Cyclery has operated as a bike shop since 1971. Originally built as a meat and produce market in the 40’s, it then operated as the place where Have’ A Corn Chips were made, then a restaurant, finally a bike shop by way of a Peugeot bike distributorship. 

Fetzer says he’s the fifth owner of a bike shop in the space. “I’ve lasted the longest, obviously.” He remarks with a smile: “Although after two years I wasn’t sure I was going to survive.” Clearly, his fears were unfounded.

Replacing one team with another

As the shop became more established, Fetzer did his best to create the bike scene he thought the town deserved. In 2004 Fetzer sponsored a road racing team. “It was at the highest level of USA-based racing,” he says proudly. “That was a great period in my life. It was so much fun.” That lasted three years and then the team was sold off. He has since followed that with his involvement in the Thurston and Laguna Beach High School mountain bike riding teams, officially called Laguna Beach Interscholastic Team.

Working to keep high school kids on the team

The team is overwhelmingly made up of middle schoolers, his seventh grade son being one of them, although it’s a sixth to twelfth grade squad. “There are thousands of kids at these races,” says Fetzer. “It can be a bit intimidating at first, but once everyone gets sorted out it’s good.” 

The team competes in the National Interscholastic Cycling Association. “It’s great. There’s a place for everyone,” he says enthusiastically. “It’s for the kid who isn’t a baseball kid or a surfer kid, but we also have kids who do it all.” Fetzer says they’d like to recruit (or keep) more high school kids on the team. “There are more and more scholarships for riding. Schools like UC Davis, UCI, Berkeley, Boulder all offer riding scholarships,” according to Fetzer.

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Fetzer behind the counter at Laguna Cyclery still “turning wrenches”

A shift to the mountains

The enthusiasm that the team was met with speaks to the devoted mountain biking fan base in Laguna. With the abundance of trails surrounding us it’s certainly not a surprise. As a result, Fetzer says he has geared (no pun intended) his shop towards mountain bikes. “We are focused on mountain biking,” he says. “We’re all scared of cars and traffic. I’ve seen a huge shift to the mountains for riding.”

And while Fetzer certainly rides in the hills, he hasn’t abandoned the road. He is riding in a 100-mile road race that starts at the George Washington Bridge in New York. “I’ve never been to New York. For 100 miles there will be no cars, no traffic.  I’m really looking forward to it.” And after almost 20 years it’s likely the shop will survive without him for a few days, although when I met him there it was pretty much non-stop customers from the time he opened his doors to when I left.

Learning to adapt to whatever comes next

“It has never been easy,” says Fetzer of his business. “First it was catalogs, now it’s the internet. But I think it’s a love affair with this corner that keeps this shop open,” he says. “The town continues to support this business which is a testament to its love of biking and an active lifestyle.” 

A younger Fetzer, the one just out of college who didn’t want to “turn wrenches” anymore, might be surprised to find his older self still doing just that. However, it undoubtedly makes all the difference when the wrenches are your own.


Al Treviño: The visionary landscape architect attributes much of his success to “lucky breaks, and the people you meet”

Story by MARRIE STONE

Photos by Mary Hurlbut

Sitting in the Bluebird Canyon home he designed and built almost 60 years ago –the home he nearly lost in the 2005 landslide – Alberto (Al) Treviño, 86, is eager to tell me about the new nonprofit website, www.seniors2seniors.com, that he is hoping to launch. 

The website will connect high school seniors with the elderly. “The goal is to help senior citizens while fulfilling community service hours for high schools,” he explains. The young are tasked with teaching technology to the old, giving them lessons on their smart phones, tablets and other devices. “I want to reach the administrators from each California school district, and get them familiar with the website,” says Al. 

A big project for a man who claims he’s retired. 

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Al has a great smile

No question in my mind that this new project will succeed. Al’s vision and accomplishments are legendary in Orange County. As a landscape architect, Al pushed the boundaries of conventional design. As a Hispanic, he pushed Orange County’s boundaries of discrimination. His professional legacy can be seen throughout Orange County and his influence extends well beyond. His personal legacy will last for generations. From 60 years of marriage to his beloved wife, Dolores, came 11 children, 22 grandchildren, and a collection of memories that seemingly have no end.

Out of Al’s imagination sprung the designs for Fashion Island and Linda Isle in Newport, and University Park and Turtle Rock in Irvine. His hand guided the path of the 405 freeway. His vision inspired Epcot Center in Florida. He served under three U.S. presidents as Assistant Secretary of HUD.

Humble, Al claims things were different with his generation. He felt less spoiled, more serious, and in tune with the generations before. He says luck played a role, and the people he met along the way made all the difference.

People like Frank Gehry, George Argyros, Howard Bolzt and even Joseph Kleitsch, though the latter’s influence occurred via a painting rather than a serendipitous meeting.

More about those serendipitous meetings later. But first, I ask Al to fill me in on the 

winding road of his life. 

Born into both distinction and the Great Depression

Al was born in Inglewood in 1931, at the height of the Great Depression. When business dried up in California, his father (who owned a chain of shoe stores) moved their family to El Paso, Texas. 

Al’s mother, Adelina, was from the Escajeda family. The Escajedas had a long history of power and influence in El Paso, and were the earliest pioneers of the town. King Ferdinand VII of Spain gave the Escajedas a land grant in 1818 and they settled San Elizario and Ysleta. Adelina’s name is still encrusted in the stained glass of the Ysleta mission.

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Al in front of a favorite painting

In contrast, his father’s family settled in Mexico in 1480. “The Treviños were known as Jews in Spain,” Al tells me. “The king, during the Spanish Inquisition, made a decision to throw out the Jews. They gave my family a choice: stay and be killed, or set sail for the New World.” Today, the Treviños still have a stronghold in Monterrey, Mexico, remaining a rich and powerful family.

Although the family returned to southern California during Al’s high school years, these earliest influences were, perhaps, instrumental to Al’s own destiny. Al was one of Orange County’s initial and significant settlers. He came to Laguna Beach in the 1960s, before any of the modern-day industries or businesses were built. His was the first house built in his Bluebird Canyon neighborhood. But Al arrived with vision – and degrees from both UC Berkeley and Harvard in landscape architecture. The Depression gave Al drive, and his history gave him confidence. 

The circuitous path to success

When Al began his academic career, he’d never heard of ‘landscape architecture.’ But he did like plants and trees. So, after graduating from Saint Francis in La Cañada Flintridge, Al set off to Cal Poly Pomona to study horticulture. During a design class, a professor saw his drawings and the head of the department pulled him aside. “You should become a landscape architect,” Howard Boltz told him. “You could get into Berkeley.” This single comment changed the course of Al’s life.

But Berkley nearly rejected his already approved application because of one stark ‘C’ on his transcript – in Spanish. “There was discrimination against Hispanics then, and I didn’t give a damn about the class. My mother spoke perfect Spanish. My sisters, to this day, speak Spanish. But I didn’t care about it.” Leland Vaughan, the head of the department and a prominent California architect, looked at Al. “Aren’t you Spanish?” he said, while signing Al’s admissions slip.

The interruption of war

Being a student wasn’t enough to spare Al from war. In the middle of his academic career at Berkeley, he was drafted into the Korean War. But because he tested well, he was sent to medical school in Fort Benning, Georgia. “I was attached to a tank battalion,” says Al. “We’d go out on maneuvers and people were always getting hurt. It was something I never expected to do.”

One night, while on maneuvers near the Alabama border, the lead tank ran over a civilian’s vehicle. “The fellow was pinned in the car. He was moaning, but there was no blood,” says Al. The man’s injuries were entirely internal. His stomach and chest had been crushed. “There was nothing we could do ourselves, so we called an ambulance.” When the ambulance arrived and took out their stretcher, they saw the man. “’You’ll have to call a black ambulance,’” they told Al. “’We only treat white patients.’” It took over an hour for the black ambulance to arrive. Too long, as it turned out. “That kind of thing was prevalent,” says Al. “And it really hit me.”

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Al contemplates his past

But the war brought Al nice surprises, too. One day, a starred general showed up asking about Al. He’d heard about Al’s talents in landscape architecture and decided it was time to improve the base. Al was transferred to special services. He was given a staff, a Jeep, and – eventually – a mission to improve all the officers’ facilities across several states throughout the southeast. 

“I walked into the Corps of Engineers looking for help. I yelled out, ‘Are there any architects here?’” Al recalls. “This little guy in the back raised his hand. He said his name was Frank.” Frank’s last name turned out to be Gehry. 

Al helped Frank Gehry get a transfer to Special Services, before leaving the army himself and attending Harvard. 

The house where dreams were made

Al returned to California after Harvard. But Pasadena, where his parents resettled, held no pull for him. Dolores suffered asthma, and the ocean proved better for her health. When Al discovered Laguna Beach – the tiny town that, at the time, held few professional opportunities – his father nearly lost his mind. He’d offered to help Al and Dolores buy their first home, but insisted that home had to be in Pasadena or San Marino. 

The owner knew Al’s reputation and talent. He agreed to give the property to Al for whatever he could afford. “I was only making $6.50 an hour.” Frank, his new friend and fellow architect, was jealous. He was only making $4.50.

Al remains in that same house today. In many ways, the house itself is a metaphor for Al’s life. Beautiful but impossible, perched precariously on the side of the hill. Its 1960s style is quirky, but enduring. The design is bold and ambitious, and the views are beautiful. 

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A wonderful view from Al’s house

When he brought his bride to the property nearly 60 years ago, he said, “Pretty nice view isn’t it, Dolores.” Al gets choked up recalling it. Dolores has been gone for over two years, but her absence still feels palpable to Al. “I haven’t really been happy since,” he says.

How Joseph Kleitsch rescued Al Treviño

The 2005 Bluebird Canyon landslide hit the Treviños hard. Their house was red/black-tagged. They had 30 minutes to remove a few personal items. Al’s son grabbed his mother’s favorite painting. To Dolores, it had only sentimental value, depicting the San Juan mission she loved. Al picked it up at a garage sale for twenty bucks some years before.

When the Treviños discovered insurance didn’t cover landslides, they feared they would lose the home. That’s when their neighbor discovered that the salvaged garage sale painting was, instead, “Evening Shadow,” an original oil from famed plein air painter Joseph Kleitsch (1885-1931). When the painting sold for $500,000 in a private auction, the Treviños were able to rebuild their home.

A dining table, cardboard and Polaroids –

The birth of Fashion Island

Around Orange County circles, Al is famous for his progressive vision that shaped Fashion Island. The original concept was a conventionally designed indoor mall. But Al didn’t like it. “There’s no need to have an enclosed mall by the ocean,” he told the developers. 

Basing his design on the Old Orchard mall in Skokie, Illinois, Al spread some cardboard cutouts across a dining room table to show investors his vision. The mall would be open-air, incorporating European-style piazzas and lush landscaping. The design would take advantage of the nearby Pacific and the Mediterranean climate. There would be sky bridges across to the surrounding office buildings with outdoor coffee shops and flower stands. 

When Al proposed high-rise office buildings in a county that had little more than dirt roads and orange groves, he said, “People thought I was smoking something.” But it all came to pass, just as Al envisioned it – minus the sky bridges, which Donald Bren decided would block visual access to storefront signage.

A county still mired in discrimination

This was the 1960s. Talent, intelligence and experience still weren’t enough to spare a man from the sting of discrimination. When Fashion Island was close to completion, the Irvine Company decided it didn’t want a Hispanic face on the front of its project. A white planner would be hired over Al to give all the presentations pertaining to the project. 

Al was well aware of the prejudice that existed against Jews and Hispanics in Orange County. The California Club, a country club in Los Angeles infamous for its discriminatory practices, had several prominent Orange County members. He knew it was time to take his leave. 

Life beyond the Orange County curtain

Although Al never left Laguna Beach, he took a lucrative offer from General Electric (GE) and continued his storied career, taking on large projects mostly on the east coast. Over the coming decades, he would work for GE and Walt Disney, then as Assistant Secretary at the Department of Housing and Urban Development under Presidents Richard Nixon, Gerald Ford, and George W. Bush and, later, as Assistant Secretary of Policy Development and Research.

Shortly after September 11, the White House flew Al to Madrid in an effort to build good relations with Spain. As Al prepared to deliver a speech on urban planning, he discovered George Argyros, famed Orange County real estate investor and U.S. Ambassador to Spain, was in town. The two spent their time together, traveling to Toledo Spain and to Eli Broad’s opening at the Guggenheim Museum Bilbao.

“My life has just been events like that,” says Al. 

Still conquering new horizons

I ask the question: Are men like this born or made? 

Al would say it’s all about lucky breaks. He credits meeting a long series of smart, engaged and talented people for many of the good fortunes he’s experienced. “Argyros, many of these people, we were all very poor young men. We’ve just been very nice to each other.”

As I pull away from Al’s home, watching him take his two caged birds inside for the night and turn off the living room lights, I can relate. I, too, feel lucky. These people we meet along the way – they make all the difference.


Lexi McKeown: the scholar/athlete with deserved honors and a bright and sunny future

By MAGGI HENRIKSON

Photos by Mary Hurlbut

Laguna Beach High School senior, Lexi McKeown may only be a teenager, but her accomplishments are a lifetime’s worth. She’s a kind-hearted superstar volleyball player as well as a stellar student – and she’s just getting started.

Lexi McKeown

Lexi is a fourth generation Lagunan. Her grandpa is widely remembered in this town as McKeown Plumbing. Her mom, Kathy, laughs as she tells me that when people hear the name, they invariably ask oh, that McKeown? “I say, ‘It depends on whether you had a good plumbing experience.’” Lexi’s grandpa is known as Poppy, and she adores his sense of humor. “He was born on April Fool’s Day,” she says with a smile.

Lexi and her mom are very close, particularly as it was just the two of them – Lexi has not seen her father since she was three years old. Kathy and Lexi share the genetics of good humor, dedication to education (mom is a school principal in Irvine), and a passion for volleyball. Kathy played back when she was at LBHS, and went on to play at University of Notre Dame. Lexi’s volleyball future is looking very bright as she heads off to Florida State in the fall.

How do you pick a college?

She might have had her pick of colleges, with an academic record including Advance Placement (AP) awards and a 4.5 GPA. And then there’s her volleyball achievements, including being a four-year varsity starter, earning league MVP twice, and All CIF First Team awards. But Lexi’s choice of Florida State was a multi-faceted decision.

“I talked to six schools. I thought of UCLA, Cal, Stanford, but my coach suggested visiting Florida State,” she said. “I wanted something different from Laguna. I loved Florida as a state. I had this ‘aha moment’ walking on the campus. I love trees and brick buildings – that old-timey feeling.” 

She visited three more times and got to really appreciate the volleyball team and the coach. Florida’s Division One team is ranked number four in the nation. It all added up to the perfect fit for Lexi.

Dedication and commitment

The busy life as scholar/athlete started somewhere around age 11. Lexi was playing club soccer, but relented to mom’s suggestion that she try volleyball. “I originally rebelled against doing the same thing as my mom. I tried it more to appease her,” she said. “Then I found out I’m actually kind of good at it.” 

She was hooked.

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The journey commenced with age-group club play after school and on weekends. “You have to love it,” she says. “It’s a huge commitment. You give up a lot.” 

Kathy agrees, “That’s why she never skied till last week!” Her “Ski Weeks” were tournament times. Alas, Lexi found out last week that skiing is “not my thing!”

The athlete

These days the busy life includes strength training at the Rock in Newport Beach, beach volleyball at Main Beach or Doheny, with weekends and all summers dedicated to tournaments up and down the coast. Beach volleyball (vs indoor) is Lexi’s favorite, and she’s achieved a triple-A women’s ranking.

“I’ve always been kind of tall, so [with indoor] you don’t get to serve, just hit,” she says. “Whereas, in beach volleyball you get to do it all.” 

She pairs up with several different partners. “It’s fun because you get to learn everyone’s different aspects. 

“People come for summer tournaments from all over,” she continued. “Florida, Texas, California… The sport is really growing across the nation.”

Her favorite tournament is at Hermosa Beach. “There’s a lot of space and I really like it. It’s where the Junior Olympics and the Nationals are held.” 

Among her tournament awards are two first-place winnings in College Showcase Tournaments, and a third place medal in the National Volleyball League Women’s Pro Open Tournament.

The scholar 

A big part of what makes Lexi such a success is her level of commitment. She demonstrates that in volleyball and in the classroom. Her favorite subjects in school are also the ones that give most folks anxiety attacks – science and math.

“My favorite is AP Calculus with Miss Quigley,” she says with a smile. 

She was named AP Chemistry Scientist of the Month in Mr. Sogo’s class, and has also won awards in US History, World History, and the Orange Coast League’s Academic Achievement Award for three years. An impressive resume, to be sure, but Lexi handles it all with calm sensibility and humility. And she gives back of her time and talents, with the LBHS Athletic Leadership Team.

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Selected as a founding member of the Athletic Leadership Team in 2016, Lexi has helped younger kids as a positive role model. The program is designed to promote good sportsmanship, school spirit, respectful behavior, and personal accountability. 

“I mentor and help,” she says, simply.

Her warmth and kindness make her a perfect role model, and will no doubt serve her well in the future as she is planning to go into emergency medicine. She’d like to learn more by working with an ER doctor.

“I really like helping people,” she says. “You see a little bit of everything. I like the excitement!”

And when she has spare time, she enjoys the ER action on TV. “I love Grey’s Anatomy!” she beams.

With a bright future ahead of her, Lexi McKeown is ready for that leap from one coast to the next. We look forward to hearing about that journey as she trades the LBHS maroon for the garnet and gold as a Florida State Seminole.


Paula Arnold: Fiercely committed to the B&GC

Story by SAMANTHA WASHER

Photos by Mary Hurlbut

As with so many parents who are faced with the proverbial “empty nest,” Paula Arnold found herself, in her words, “looking for a purpose” when her youngest daughter went away to college 11 years ago. She considered volunteering for CASA (Court Appointed Special Advocates), an organization that promotes court-appointed advocates for abused or neglected children. However, after thinking long and hard, Arnold decided against it. She was still a little raw from her daughter leaving and felt “it was too soon” to take on such an emotionally demanding role.

It all started with a friend

Fortunately for all concerned, a friend, Milt Naylor, suggested Arnold look into the Boys and Girls Club of Laguna Beach (the Club). “Milt took me to meet (longtime Club supporter) Donnie Crevier and I signed on,” she recalls. Naylor knew what he was doing when he recruited Arnold. Since then she has repeatedly chaired the Club’s Gala and the Girls Night Out events, in addition to serving as the Club’s first female president. 

Making an impact from the start

Arnold made her presence in the organization known right away. “Within in six months of joining the Board I was chairing committees,” she says. It’s not hard to imagine. Arnold exudes energy and charisma. “It was fun. I was single then, and I would come in with dating stories. I’d have a committee of 12 women, and we always had something going on.” 

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Paula Arnold, the first female president of The Boys and Girls Club of Laguna Beach, among many other roles at the Club.

Not one to shy away from a challenge, after some time chairing committees, Arnold says knew what she wanted to do next. “I said, ‘I’m the next president’. I’m very alpha,” she adds with a laugh.

Spending money to make money

By then she had definitely earned the respect of her fellow Board members. “I took the Gala, which had previously raised $200,000-300,000 and at least doubled that. I told them we had to spend money to make money. It was scary for them,” says Arnold. 

If the Board was nervous, Arnold was not. Relying on her former skills as a Director of Marketing for a hotel/casino in Las Vegas, Arnold was not unfamiliar with how to put on a gala. “I wasn’t an event planner in Vegas, but I certainly did a lot of event planning,” she explains.

Everyone is a fundraiser, whether they like it or not

Besides elevating the Club’s gala, Arnold says another change she fostered as president was the idea that the Board’s members needed to raise money. “I told everybody, whether you like it or not, you’re a fundraiser. I was one of them. When I first joined I said I didn’t want to ask people for money. But once they realized they were already doing it, by talking to people they knew, about what they and the Club were doing, they realized it was pretty easy.”

70 cents of every dollar comes from the community

And fundraising is a critical part of the Boys and Girls Club. “We fundraise for 70 cents of every dollar. People find that shocking. We get very little in grants, although we do get some from the school district and some from arts programs. But the rest comes from the community,” she explains.

Embracing county-wide responsibilities, as well

More recently, Arnold has taken on a role with the Orange County Area Council for the Boys and Girls Club. Not surprisingly, she is president of that group. “I have 15 clubs,” she says. “It’s all volunteer. It’s more of a bylaws type of position, but it has evolved into an idea exchange meeting. We want idea sharing (among the Clubs). Take the Tustin Club, they just had their first Girls Night Out event after seeing ours.” 

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Paula Arnold with Michelle Ray-Fortezzo, Development Director of the Boys and Girls Club of Laguna Beach, talk Art of Giving Gala

Spreading the success of Laguna’s Girls Night Out

There have been nine Girls Night Out events in Laguna, all at the fabulous home of Laguna Beach residents Holly and David Wilson. At the event, women get together, eat, drink and socialize while shopping at booths set up throughout the property. All proceeds benefit the Club. It’s an event that could (and should) definitely be replicated by other Clubs. Arnold’s enthusiasm and encouragement undoubtedly motivated the Tustin Club’s Board to give it a try.

Still committed chairing the Club’s events

 With her new county-wide responsibilities it would be reasonable to assume Arnold has backed off her commitments to the Laguna Club – reasonable, but not accurate. Arnold is still chairing the Gala (May 12 at Montage, Laguna Beach) and Girls Night Out. “I like standing up there and saying, ‘How about…?’ I’m clearly passionate about it. I see the lives we enhance, even change. We have so many kids at who are at risk.”

Working for a teen center

With so much accomplished, Arnold is still committed to doing more. “I would love to see our endowment get to $5 million. We need a fully functioning teen center. It has to be open and free,” she says. The challenges of creating a teen center that teens will want to hang out in is not lost on her, but neither is the reality that providing teens with safe, supervised a place they can go can greatly reduce reckless behavior. 

Celebrating a first grandchild on the way

The only thing that might hamper her mission is the upcoming arrival of her first grandchild. Arnold is taking a month to be in Hong Kong with her daughter as they await the big day. Beyond that, there is always the Boys and Girls Club of America, the national umbrella organization for the Boys and Girls Clubs. Arnold, while not actively seeking out a position with the group, says she is also not opposed to accepting such a position. Time will tell.

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Paula Arnold and Michelle Ray-Fortezzo outside the Club where they spend so much time working to advance the organization’s mission

Giving and getting back

In the meantime, she has more than enough going on with her current Club responsibilities. And while she has given so much, as with all giving, she has received much in return. Coming to Laguna from Las Vegas in 2003 as a divorced mother of two, it took awhile for Laguna to feel like home.  Getting involved with the Club helped that. Arnold says it provided her with her first “heart friend” way back when. The friend, Karen Jaffe, remains a dear friend to this day. “Now I go to the grocery store and I know half the people there. Las Vegas will always have my heart, but Laguna is home now,” she says.

The Club is always open to new volunteers

And if anyone out there is looking for a “purpose” or just wants to get involved with a really wonderful organization, Arnold says there is room at the Boys and Girls Club. “If anyone is interested in understanding what being a Board member is about we are always looking for our replacements. Until you get into one of these meetings and see these really smart, dynamic people, you can’t understand how inspiring it is.” After meeting Paula Arnold, I have a pretty good idea.


Mark Chamberlain: Photographer, gallery owner,

artivist, arteologist - one of Laguna’s great treasures

Story by MARRIE STONE

In 1969, after his discharge from the war, Mark Chamberlain drove west. He packed his 1963 MG Midget with cameras and optimism. Dubuque, Iowa faded in the rearview mirror. Mark drove away from a childhood battle with polio and a year spent in Korea during the Vietnam War that had profoundly changed the trajectory of his life. Ahead was Laguna Beach, the town that would become not only his lifelong home, but the inspiration for a career in environmental activism and a literal canvas for his photography.

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Photo by Mary Hurlbut

Mark Chamberlain, 2018

 “Meaningful art,” Mark says, “always has an autobiographical connection.” I spend the next hours with Mark, along with his partner and art journalist Liz Goldner, unspooling those long threads of connections. We travel through his childhood and the war, from his 1970s retrospective on his hometown, Dubuque Passages, to his current book, The Laguna Canyon Project: Refining Artivism, due out this year.

Mark calls himself an “arteologist” and an “artivist.” He uses his camera to excavate truth and to document humanity’s devastating impact on the environment. In one notable project, he photographed “Future Fossils” – those modern-day objects in our contemporary culture he imagines will soon be extinct: gas stations, automobiles, glitzy steel buildings and billboards, the gaudy super-color sprawl of urban landscapes. 

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Photo by Mark Chamberlain

Photographer: Last Boxcar to Dubuque, from Mark’s Passages series

But I’m interested in a different kind of study with Mark. And so, together, we embark on a conversational dig of our own, excavating the roots of Mark’s past and chronicling all the artistic fruits that emerged. 

How a childhood disease led to an enduring desire

Mark contracted polio when he was in the fifth grade. His mother, not one to accept common fate, employed unconventional (and controversial) methods to help her son. The therapy was arduous and painful, but it worked. Mark credits his mother’s strength and dedication for his full recovery, and for his feminist attitudes today. 

Still, Mark was bedridden for a year. During that time he read... and read... and read. He discovered Mark Twain, Huckleberry Finn and, specifically, riverboats. From this came a lifelong passion to own a riverboat and traverse the Mississippi River.

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Photo courtesy BC Space

Adventurer: Mississippi River Queen, 1959

Mark emerged from his recovery stronger than his peers. He learned to swim in the mighty Mississippi that, of course, flowed right through Dubuque. His father had little choice but to buy Mark what he calls his first “magic carpet,” a 15 1/2-foot flatboat.  

To date, Mark has made his way down one-third of the Mississippi. He owns a 1959 shallow draft steel-hulled 25-foot houseboat with an outboard motor that can carry him through 12 inches of silted water. “Most people can’t even find the places I go,” Mark says. “It takes knowledge, which I have. And maps, which I also have.” Many hidden areas have been sealed off because railroads destroyed river traffic, Mark tells me. The currents silted them in, making the river impossible to navigate. But Mark has winches and tools – and determination.

Mark uses his boat as a shooting platform, giving him access to very tight and isolated river communities. “People tell me their stories. I have videos and photographs.” He anticipates this will make an incredible project. 

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Photo by Mark Chamberlain

Photographer: Mrs. Pillard, 1973, from Dubuque Passages

His desire to finish the final two-thirds is palpable. “Would you say you have any regrets in life?” his partner, Liz, asks. “Not finishing the Mississippi,” he says. “That would be my one.”

The unexpected blessings of Vietnam

Two days after Mark received his master’s degree in Operations Research from the University of Iowa, he was drafted. Though, through a series of lucky breaks, he was deployed to Korea instead of Vietnam. There he taught himself the language, as well as Korean culture and history, which ingratiated him to the locals. 

“I watched these 17 and 18-year old kids come in. They drank, gambled and whored.” Because the United States used Korea as a way station back to civilian life, many men were broken from time spent in Vietnam. “You could watch their lives change dramatically.” Mark was 24, on the older side of the draft, and a little wiser about life. He used that year as an opportunity, discovering photography and finding a Korean mentor to hone his craft. He had access to a Jeep and little need for sleep. In his free time, Mark documented his experiences, touring the country, talking to locals, and giving himself an education far more valuable than the one he received at home.

By the time he returned to Dubuque, Mark found himself deeply changed. His father had passed while he was away. “I didn’t have a home there anymore,” Mark says. “I didn’t agree with anything I was seeing.” Mark’s degree felt like a vestigial remnant of a life he no longer recognized. And so, camera in hand, Mark set out west to reinvent himself.

A partnership becomes a brotherhood

A few years after Mark arrived in Laguna, he met Jerry Burchfield. The two became instant friends. “Encountering Jerry under the circumstances I did was a meaningful passage,” Mark says. Jerry was an only child, Mark an only son. The two forged a kind of brotherhood they each were missing. Mark says Jerry is one of the only friends to whom he gave his early photographs from Korea. Although they were quite different, they shared a passion for photography, an interest in activism, and both felt changed by the war.

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Photo by Damon Nicholson

Jerry & Mark at the Nix Interpretive Center. On the left, an image from The Tell mural, leading into the trail. As part of their 25th anniversary celebration, the Nix Center will host a book signing of Laguna Canyon Project: Refining Artivism.

Together they co-founded The Laguna Canyon Project, The Legacy Project and BC Space Gallery, perhaps one of the longest continually running fine art photography galleries in the United States.

Although Jerry passed in 2009, there almost seems a soulful residue imprinted on Mark. He sometimes speaks of Jerry as if he’s still alive, at one point saying, “Jerry has a photograph from those days.” It makes me think, as I listen to Mark talk about Jerry, that’s how brotherhood should be – each absorbing the best of the other, and allowing them to live on.

Saving Laguna Canyon, one photo at a time

Longtime Laguna locals know Mark’s work well, even if they don’t realize it. Mark and Jerry were instrumental in saving Laguna Canyon from development by the Irvine Company. The Laguna Canyon Project spanned 30 years, and included one of Mark’s most ambitious projects to date: The Tell. 

Stretching 636 feet and rising 34 feet into the canyon sky, The Tell was a massive installation of photographs gathered from hundreds of community members in 1989. “No photograph was censored,” Mark smiles. “Though some had to be placed up high.” 

Its shape was meant to mirror the surrounding landscape, although it had a definitive head (representing Easter Island, and the inhabitants destruction of their own civilization) and a tail that trailed to the ground. The mural in many ways represented both the land and the creatures that roamed it. More important, it called people into the canyon. First, to search for their own photos. Then to commune with nature. And, finally, to take an active role in saving it.

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Photo courtesy BC Space

Artivist: The Tell overview, 1989

As the sun scorched the project and the hostile environment invaded, something new appeared. Where once the focus was on individual pictures and people, Mark and Jerry designed the mural so images of animals would emerge when the photographs faded – a dinosaur, a giant deer, people feuding inside the belly of a beast. 

“That’s part of the deceit of the piece,” says Mark. “If art isn’t entertaining to the artist, why do it?” They drew on the power of myths, archeological principles, and the history of Easter Island to play with the art and make a broader statement about the environment. “At the dedication ceremony, we had horsemen from Leisure World walk out from the throat. Men delivered speeches on scrolls of parchment. We tapped into every myth we could.” 

Mark calls his work a tricky seduction, his art operating on every part of the viewer’s conscious and unconscious mind. That’s the power of both myth and scale.

The Tell was dismantled in 1990. The skin came off first, Mark tells me. Then the skeleton came down. “Then the cross members were removed, so it became like Tellhenge for another two weeks.” Much of its remains were destroyed in the 1993 fire. Mark confesses it felt like a relief, the project almost a burden to keep alive. It died in much the way it was born – mythologically.

When asked if he would do it again, Mark says he’s guided by the principle that a project done once is art, and a project repeated is product.

The Great Picture – living life on a large canvas

Inspired by the success of the Laguna Canyon Project, Mark and Jerry turned their attention to the El Toro Marine Corps Air Station, and to documenting the 4,700 acres of contiguous space in Irvine that would become Orange County’s Great Park. From that, The Great Picture arose. 

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Photo courtesy BC Space

Historian: The Great Picture

Three stories tall and 11 stories wide, the Great Picture is the world’s largest photograph made as a single seam image. By converting a jet maintenance hanger into a camera obscura, they achieved the exposure by creating a 6-millimeter pinhole lens projected onto a muslin canvas. Following a 35-minute exposure, the crew captured a black-and-white image that they processed in a pool-sized developing tray. The gelatin silver print portrays the control tower structures, tarmac and the distant San Joaquin Hills.

Breaking the Guinness World Record, and shown around the world, the image remains both a wonder and a masterpiece.

BC Space – the mouse that roared

As our time wraps up, we discover we haven’t discussed the gallery. BC Space, nestled beside the Candy Baron and above Violet’s Boutique on Forest Avenue, is hard to spot even if you know it’s there. There’s no advertising, barely a sign of any kind. 

Sometime after buying the gallery, Mark discovered the space used to be owned by the Masons. “The interesting thing about the Masons,” says Mark, “you had to ask to join. They didn’t invite you. You had to want to know more.” That’s the guiding philosophy behind BC Space. “I prefer to talk to people who know where they’re going,” he says. “You don’t walk in here by accident. If you make it up the stairs, you want to be here.”

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Photo by Mary Hurlbut

BC Space: “If you make it up the stairs, you want to be here”

Like everything in Mark’s life, he continues to have big ambitions for the space. “There are so many things I want to do here,” he says. “Every show has been curated from here, generated from here. Usually in response to some current event, or long-term recurring situation.” 

Self-invention or self-discovery?

“I don’t think we invent anything,” Mark says as we conclude our time. “Instead I think we discover things.” 

I consider this long after I leave. 

Then there are the words of his partner, Liz, who seems so moved by Mark that it’s her reaction to him, as much as the man himself, that leaves a lasting impression. 

“Over our years together, I keep asking him, ‘What makes you, you?’ ‘How did you get to be this person?’” 

Mark smiles and shrugs as Liz asks again. 

“With all these insights, and passions, and emotional and intellectual understandings. How did that happen?” Liz keeps looking at him, as though waiting for an answer. “To have the confidence to do the crazy things you did. To have the confidence to save the canyon.” 

Mark sits silent. 

“I guess it’s just his DNA”

“I guess it’s just his DNA,” she finally concludes. 

So maybe it’s true of people too: we don’t invent ourselves, but rather discover ourselves. We’re there all along, living fossils waiting to be excavated. 

Perhaps that’s why art feels so gratifying and so personal. By creating something, we’re really discovering something about ourselves. We’re shining a light on those profound parts of our soul, digging them up and bringing ourselves to the surface, letting others see inside. 

Looking at the long arc of Mark’s work – across distance and time, and almost always larger than life – that’s just how it feels. Profound.

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