Best of Picture from the Past
The sewer farm, like privies, became history as town grew
By John S. Baggerly
The Los Gatos Sewer Farm was not included two weeks ago when this space offered a brief history of outdoor toilets built in wooden shacks, also called "outhouses" or "privies."
In the first half of this century, Los Gatos human waste was piped into the sewer farm, an area east of the northern portion of University Avenue. Today this is the southwest corner of Oak Meadow Park.
Back in the 1940s, Nino Grimaldi and Clyde A. Kirkendall reduced the rat population at the old sewer farm. It wasn't until 1948 that Santa Clara County organized a sanitation district; Los Gatos joined awhile later and became part of District 4. That spelled the end of the sewer farm.
Grimaldi was known as the "silent tree trimmer" because he disdained power tools, and cut limbs with a hand saw. Thus he obtained the business of wealthy home owners. Kirkendall was a pharmacist and councilman who pushed for Los Gatos joining the sewer district. Kirkendall and Bill Vowles were co-owners of Los Gatos Pharmacy on E. Main Street, which later became known as Kirk and Bill's. All three men have since died.
The sewer farm idea was brought to the United States from England. Los Gatos' own "farm" was slightly smaller than the present swimming pool at Los Gatos High School.
This writer found a 1999 calendar for sale at Crown Books in Los Gatos, with photographs of outhouses. Photographer is Londie G. Padelsky. Speaking of which, the current issue of Reminisce magazine contains letters from readers recalling "When Outhouses Were In." The "warmest" letter comes from Marguerite Comeau of Saulnierville, Nova Scotia. She writes that her outhouse was OK in the summertime, but it was cold in the winter: "My brother would put out snares and if he caught a rabbit, we would have a fur-lined toilet seat for winter."
Bob Coolley of Casper, Wyo., writes of a friend, a flyer in World War II, who learned his way around the expansive flatlands of Texas thanks to privies. "He mentioned to me that he soon learned all the outhouses in [the] area face south," Coolley said. If the friend became disoriented in the air, he simply circled until he spotted an outhouse with an open door. He was soon back on track.
Sears and Montgomery Ward catalogs were often used for toilet paper. Thus Thelma Evans wrote: "A Christmas greeting to you ... may your thick pages be few." Pat Webster wrote of her family's six-seater, which was dark and scary at night. Thus she often accompanied five or six of her sisters on night visits. Years later her children enjoyed the story of six sisters making the trip together.
Doren Yount Atwood recalls: "Auntie poured about five gallons of cleaning fluid down one of the holes in the privy. When uncle Virgil came along and dropped a lighted match down the hole--boom! He was blown out of the outhouse."
Bud Swiger writes: "Mother gave 8-year-old Junior a plate of scraps to dump in the privy, not remembering that dad was there. Junior, upon seeing a cigar glow in the dark, thought it was a monster and threw the garbage at the 'glow.' He came running back in the house, and Dad soon followed, covered with potato peels."
John Baggerly has semi-retired. This column is from the Los Gatos Weekly-Times archives.