As a lifelong resident of this town—80 years and counting—I confess to certain attitudes, call them prejudices, that go with the territory. If you live long enough in a place, there are some things you come to appreciate, and you're not all that aware of the appreciation until they're not there or are in danger of not being there. That's the way it is with Saratoga.
Take orchards, for instance. In my childhood and youth, it was a given that springtime would see miles of prune and apricot trees in bloom, a phenomenon that gave rise to the annual Saratoga Blossom Festival. In the normal course of development and population growth, it was inevitable that the orchards would give way to houses. I miss the orchards, yes, and so do a lot of people. We're grateful for vestigial remnants, such as the Heritage Orchard and the Novakovich ranch on Fruitvale Avenue. They are invaluable reminders of our heritage and they deserve to be preserved in perpetuity. But there's no denying the mainly economic forces that brought about the change. Fretting about it does no possible good.
Then there's the Village, and that's a different story. Here's a place that has a lot going for it and a potential that could meet the economic and cultural needs of a healthy slice of population. It also has problems. As I have noted in previous columns, the Saratoga business district is a victim of history and topography. The history had to do with the lumber wagons that were driven through this area by teamsters who were anything but city planners.
Lumber Street, as the present Big Basin Way was known until 1927, was what resulted when these men drove their timber loads down from the hills to the valley below. No one was there to say, "Hey, you guys, if you drive those wagons to one side, we could get two parallel streets in here. There's a creek on one side and high ground on the other, but there still should be enough space for two streets. Give us a break. Someday, we're going to need traffic circulation."
Since that couldn't possibly have happened, and the teamsters had their way, the Village comprises an essentially one-street business district. By contrast, Los Gatos has parallel Santa Cruz and University avenues, and the old railroad right of way between them that is a natural off-street parking area. In case you haven't been there and noticed, Los Gatos is a shoppers' destination.
So here we are back in Saratoga, which is hardly a shoppers' destination and consequently was the subject of a recent article in this newspaper that had the compelling headline "Empty Basin," referring, of course, to the sparsity of foot traffic on Big Basin Way.
What is it, then, that the Village area does have? Here I'm getting to the attitudes and/or prejudices that I mentioned at the start. I remember when downtown, while not exactly bustling, was a street lined with businesses that were there because they were needed. There were gas stations and auto repair garages, four grocery stores that offered free home delivery, restaurants, a couple of drug stores, one with a soda fountain, and, after World War II, a hardware store, department store, dry cleaners, variety store and movie theater.
There was also atmosphere, although we may not have been impressed by it at the time. Most of the buildings were old, some very old, and, though we never thought of the place as particularly historic, by today's standards it was and is. Also, there was the matchless pictorial setting against the hills. I liked the Village the way it was, and so did a lot of people.
Now, with the prospect of five vintage buildings being considered for extensive renovation (see letter to the editor by Jill Hunter, a planning commissioner, in this issue), I think there is real cause for concern. She makes the point that, individually, a building may not seem of great importance, but collectively they make up that indefinable quality called atmosphere.
Let the Santana Rows stay where they are. Incidentally, what is now Santana Row was once a very fine pear orchard.