history - McMenamins

2008 March · April · May 2008
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MENAMINS
HISTORY
Gearhart’s old Sandtrap bar and clubhouse was a
lightning rod for socializing. (Courtesy Herron family)
ON VACATION AT THE
SITTIN’ SEAGULLS
The Everyman Soul of Gearhart
she had a front-row seat if not a part in these extraordinary
goings-on.
Golf, as played at the pioneer course in Gearhart, Oregon,
enjoyed an informal and mostly sedate tradition into the mid20th century. Then in the 1950s, as if to shake off the stifling
effects of the Great Depression and the years of war rationing
that followed, play at­and around ­the Gearhart links took a
festive if not bizarre turn with the inauguration of the Sittin’
Seagulls Tournament. This was a three-day irreverent, boisterous, much-ballyhooed party staged every Memorial Day Weekend between 1959 and 1968 to usher in the
summer season and mark the reopening of
the grand old Gearhart Hotel, following
its annual winter hibernation.
This past winter, Sally was kind enough to recount some of the
more colorful highlights of her youth for us. She was joined on
one occasion by a former Gearhart classmate and close buddy,
Steve Earl, who also had vivid memories of these times. Many
of their stories are now illustrated in artwork as part of McMenamins’ renovation of the Sandtrap.
”It was a great blending of the locals and
the out-of-town Portland high-society
crowd,” recalled Steve. ”It was so easy
and natural for that to happen then!”
”Those Sittin’ Seagulls Tournaments
were the craziest things… [In fact,]
growing up in Gearhart, at the Gearhart
golf course, it was just unbelievable.”
In order to best understand the character and significance of this offbeat yearly
gathering, one needs first to look inside
the soul of Gearhart. This place was created
in the early 1890s as an ocean resort in a natural, park-like
setting and with a determination to keep commercialism at
bay—in other words, the antithesis of Seaside, its Coney Islandlike neighbor just a few miles to the south. The atmosphere
appealed to affluent Portlanders seeking a haven from their
formal, buttoned-up, urban existences, and (...continued page 10)
This is Sally Herron Valade’s reflection on the
strange and wonderful things to which she bore witness during
her childhood in the 1950s and ’60s. Gearhart’s venerable golf
course and its 19th hole, the Sandtrap, were the lightning rods
for much of the now-mythical characters and antics that unfolded during the Sittin’ Seagulls era. And since Sally’s parents,
Roy and June Maden, owned and managed both at the time,
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SITTIN’ SEAGULLS (con-
Coming from Steve, this
comparison adds more
significance because he
was part of the extended
family at Gearhart, yet he
wasn’t from Portland and
didn’t come from affluence. His family had been
farming around Gearhart
since the 1870s, before the
beach community existed,
and all through Steve’s
childhood he worked his
family’s dairy farm and
helped deliver milk doorto-door in town.
tinued from page 9)
soon their vacation homes
dotted the landscape,
first along the dunes, an
area that quickly became
known as Gin Ridge, then
over time, in other parts of
Gearhart and to its north.
The Gin Ridgers cherished
not just the striking beauty
of Gearhart but also the
slow pace and rural character of its “downtown,”
Gearhart’s commercial center in the 1920s. By design, it hasn’t changed much over the
consisting of a few shops
past eight decades. (Courtesy Patty Beall)
and offices, service stations and city hall. There was one cop
and a volunteer fire department. It was a place where parents
Class distinctions were blurred substantially, Steve said. And
felt their kids were safe to wander freely. Occasionally, plans
more generally, other values that likely defined seasonal resito build new restaurants, shops or businesses arose, but more
dents’ Portland lives seemed to also go on vacation upon their
often than not, they were quashed.
arrival at the beach.
In more than one instance, seasonal residents with deep pockets
Both Steve and Sally saw that at
quietly outbid the developers for
Gearhart, tolerance ran high and
the property in question and left it
personal judgments were minimal.
unchanged.
The result was that locals of more
modest means were welcomed into
Sally recalled one such incident: “The
the fold (or that the Gin Ridgers
classic thing, when the post office
were welcomed into the locals’
moved [to a different location in
sphere, depending on how one wants
town], some new folks wanted to go
to look at it), an “anything goes“
in and build a restaurant. And, all
attitude prevailed at the frequent
they wanted to do was serve wine.
parties—even extramarital relationOkay? That’s it. Well, you would
ships, which occurred occasionally,
think that you had asked to put a
caused little more than a raised
strip joint in the middle of Gearhart.
eyebrow. The most striking example
Sally Herron Valade (right) with her brothers
I kid you not.”
of increased tolerance was that the
and pals on the 1st tee, 1956. (Courtesy Herron family)
most popular socialites in town were
Many of these same seasonal residents already knew one ana gay couple, Bill Wilcox and Jerry Porsche. It’s probably safe
other from their other realm­—business dealings, social groups
to say that in that era, most anywhere outside of Gearhart, Bill
and country clubs in Portland. Back in the city, their children
and Jerry would not have been so warmly received. But it was
often attended the same schools, took lessons at the same
Gearhart, and as Sally so aptly put it, “If Bill and Jerry weren’t
riding academy and so forth. So when these families converged
at your party, then, honey, you didn’t have a party.”
upon Gearhart for all or part of June, July and August, there
was a real sense of reunion, but under the best circumstances:
Sally’s mother, June Maden, came to know everybody in town,
Everyone was on vacation. Steve Earl compared the situation
overseeing as she did the Sandtrap’s restaurant, called the
to the familial and insular atmosphere of the Kennedy family’s
Bamboo Room. She got to know more than she wanted to
famous compound on Cape
about the comings and goCod in Massachusetts.
ings and habits and vices of
the community. Every so of“It was almost a kind of
ten someone questioned her
Hyannis Port, where the
about what so-and-so is rewealthy would have homes
ally like. Her response every
there, and Father would
time, perfectly apropos of
come down Friday night
the Gearhart ethic: “I don’t
through Saturday morning,
know, he’s on vacation.”
then commute back and
forth to Portland… It was
Throughout the summer,
an enclave community,” said
various samplings of this
Steve, “not just of locals,
unlikely cadre of folks
but of deeply rooted Portchose to convene at the golf
land families.”
course (a public course, at
A rustic palace, the Gearhart Hotel was always a favored place among visitors
and locals alike. (Courtesy Patty Beall)
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Sandtrap owners Roy and June
that­) and in the creaky, underMaden. Since the Sandtrap and
whelming structure that housed
first tee were just across the
the Sandtrap. This building, constreet from the hotel’s main
structed in the mid-1940s, began
entrance, there were many
to show its years quickly. By the
opportunities to share events,
late ’50s–early ’60s, Steve said,
notably conventions, between the
it had become “a hodgepodge
facilities. And when there weren’t
building” due to periodic repairs
events to keep them busy, Elane
and additions. But “the interacOsburn and June Maden could
tion of the spaces,” Steve added,
often be found together, plotting
“was accidentally amazing, [creatsome reason for folks to come
ing] an excellent social center
together and socialize.
for golfers, kids and adults.” On
the subject of the Gearhart golf
It was with this spirit of cooperacourse’s informal, relaxed appeal,
tion meshed with the Gearhart
Sally noted, ”When they came
Elane Osburn, her mule Egad, Harry McCall
“extended family’s” exuberance
down to Gearhart from [private
and the seagull mascot livened up the 1961 Scottish-themed
for unpretentious fun that the
country clubs like] Columbia
Sittin’ Seagulls tournament. (Courtesy Herron family)
first annual Sittin’ Seagull TournaEdgewater, or from Waverley, or
ment took flight in 1959. It was, to paraphrase June Maden’s
wherever—whatever club they thought was their little snooty
expression, a complete vacation.
spot—when they came to the beach, they didn’t want that.”
“Part of it was the simplicity of this place,” Steve interjected.
“The Sittin’ Seagulls was a mind-blowing thing,” Steve Earl
”It was not in the least bit pretentious.”
recalled, laughing. It wasn’t even really about golf. It was
about people coming together, having fun, doing silly, even
Following an afternoon of golf or just socializing at the
surreal things on and around the golf course. Inhibitions were
Sandtrap, many folks returned to their lodgings and dressed
checked at the door (often along with
in more formal attire, then converged
political correctness). For a lot of its
upon the Gearhart Hotel for an evening
participants, this event became the
of dinner and drinks. Built four decades
one time of year when they could step
earlier, this marvelous relic was enjoywholly outside of themselves and not
ing a renaissance under its gregarious
feel obliged to mind their Ps and Qs.
hosts, John and Elane Osburn, who had
Consequently, from start to finish, and
taken over as owner-managers in the
at every level, the Sittin’ Seagulls was
early 1940s. Throughout the summer seaover the top. At the epicenter of the
son, thousands of guests were attracted
shenanigans were the golf course, the
to the hotel’s beach- and golf-side
Sandtrap and the hotel.
location, as well as its ornate ballroom,
heated outdoor pool, expansive conFor every tournament, a different
vention hall (a series of often raucous
theme was selected, and participants
conventions were perennially booked
dressed accordingly. Over the years, the
into this facility during the otherwise
Sittin’ Seagulls gave their special tribute
slow, post-summer months), stables
to Hawaii, the Scots, pirates, Spanish
from which horseback beach rides were
bullfighters and Arabian knights. Sally
launched and the beloved Driftwood
described the theme of yet another
Lounge.
tournament. “One of ‘em was ‘Give
June and Roy Maden infused the golf course and
Clatsop County Back to the Indians’,”
Much like the community surrounding
Sandtrap with new life and adventure.
she said. “And so, all of the people
it, the Gearhart Hotel was a home-away(Courtesy Herron family)
dressed as Indians, and they had Indian teepees all over the
from home for the rich and famous, as well as vacationing
golf course, where you could go in and get a drink.” The fesfamilies from the area and especially Portland. Some stayed
tivities kicked off Friday night at the hotel, with everyone in
just for an overnight, while others kept their rooms from
costume. “Friday night was just a good drunk bust,” said Steve.
Memorial Day to Labor Day. During the Osburns’ near 30-year
“And it stayed ‘til one in the morning, and then Saturday was
tenure at the Gearhart Hotel, one never knew who might make
the goofball tournament.” Stories of pirates being tossed in the
an appearance in the hallways, at poolside or in the lounge.
hotel pool and heroic efforts to extract cases of Champagne
And yes, that was Academy-Award-winning actress Claudette
from a burning car serve to further illustrate the tone of these
Colbert spelling the regular giftshop lady, Olympic swimmerFriday night affairs.
turned-Tarzan star Johnny Weissmuller diving off the balcony
into the pool and renowned composer and pianist Harry CarSuffice it to say, many people struggled for clarity on Saturday
roll performing in the Driftwood Lounge.
morning as their tee time approached. One golfer was overheard saying, “It should be Labor Day rather than Memorial
The Osburns, being year-round residents, forged longstandDay, the way I feel.” Another such (...continued page 10)
ing friendships and business relations with golf course and
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SITTIN’ SEAGULLS (continued
from page 11) suffering soul attained
After all the giddiness on the
course came to a close, more folinstant mythical status for playing an
lowed in the awards banquet, back
impossibly good round and breaking
at the hotel. Players were “honthe course record. Steve Earl was an
ored” with handmade or secondeyewitness: “I was literally there in
hand trophies in various categories.
the morning, and he was so frickin’
The President’s Cup, acquired from
hungover, [he] came out with a ruba pawnshop, was given out to the
ber bottle icepack on his head. His
person who had the best time. A
group had already teed off, and he
crown, lei or whatever accoutreran to the tee without so much as a
ment best fit the theme du jour
frickin’ warm-up, with an icepack on
went to female participants worthy
his head, going, ‘Uuughh!’ and shot
of queenly admiration. A differ63 [beating the course record by four
ent queen was crowned each of
strokes]! [The record] stood, and may
the three days of the tournament.
The lone survivors (?) of the 1963 pirate-themed Sittin’ Seagulls.
still stand today! I doubt if anybody
Special awards, perhaps a sand(Courtesy Herron family)
could top it now. Well, short of Tiger
drizzled plate, were presented to
Woods or somebody. It’s an unbelievable one. That’s irdying half the
the players with the highest scores. And everyone received consolaholes on the golf course.”
tion prizes in the form of a seagull penholder or the like.
Sally recalled yet another player of note, who very nearly made it
through the tournament. “He literally passed out on the 18th hole!”
She said the man was picked up by the amused crowd and carried
into the Sand Trap bar, where they laid him out on the table and proceeded to drink on his tab. “He woke up to like a 300-dollar bar bill,
which back then was a hell of a lot of money,” Sally said laughing.
Though of little-to-no monetary value, these awards were actually
much-coveted items. At the very least, they serve as kitchy reminders of a group unafraid to step outside themselves, relax and have
fun, sometimes even at one’s own expense. As Sally put it, “The
richest people in town were proud to have them.” Forty years later,
no doubt many of the plates, cups and penholders still hold prominent places within homes of Gearhart and beyond.
Time marches on, and Gearhart has seen significant change since
the last Sittin’ Seagulls Tournament in 1968. Sadly, both the original
Sandtrap and the Gearhart Hotel are gone, the former lost to a 1998
fire, the latter to the wrecking ball in 1972. Still, the remarkable spirit
of Gearhart remains. It thrives at the golf course, of course, and soon,
we hope, at the modern incarnation of the Sand Trap, a beautiful space
that McMenamins is excited to reopen after a two-month renovation.
For certain, the remarkable character of Gearhart can be seen in
the many people who continue to live or regularly return to Gearhart, in some cases representing the second or third generations
of their families. Sally Valade and Steve Earl talk of the yearly
party held at a longtime friend’s Gearhart home. “Two hundred of
our closest friends,” Sally noted, return to reconnect, reminisce
and ruminate on the future. It’s a tremendous stew of people, from
different backgrounds and life experiences, but all share the commonality of Gearhart.
June Maden’s Bamboo Room brimmed with business and characters. Note the seagull mascot above. (Courtesy Herron family)
If it’s not perfectly clear by now, then it’s worth noting that
throughout the history of the tournament, no one was ever very
far from a drink. As a preventative measure, to ensure that no
player was in danger of getting parched, Elane Osburn pressed
Egad, a mule housed in the hotel’s stables, into beverage service.
Hitched to a hospitality cart, Egad made rounds on the course,
stopping periodically for the dispensing of refreshments.
Even for the players not drinking, the golf course took on mindbending characteristics during tournament time. The puckish
organizers took great pleasure in relocating holes into a sand trap,
sticking extra flags into a green and digging a hole an additional
two feet into the ground. “You had to lay down on the green to get
your ball out of the hole,” Sally said with a big chuckle.
The hotel’s pool, where pirates were dunked and Tarzan dove.
(From Clatsop County, Oregon: A History, page 246)
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