Editor’s note: This is the third in a series of articles on the history of smuggling on Catalina Island.
If you’ve ever traveled to other beach resorts around the world, you’ve perhaps noticed something different about Avalon.
Consider the layout of Avalon’s beachfront area: First, you have the beach, then the town’s main street and finally you have the first row of buildings, such as hotels, restaurants and curio shops.
Editor’s note: This is the third in a series of articles on the history of smuggling on Catalina Island.
If you’ve ever traveled to other beach resorts around the world, you’ve perhaps noticed something different about Avalon.
Consider the layout of Avalon’s beachfront area: First, you have the beach, then the town’s main street and finally you have the first row of buildings, such as hotels, restaurants and curio shops.
However, most beach resorts around the world feature a row of hotels and associated businesses right smack on the beach. Behind these establishments, they then proceed with a main street followed by more businesses on the inland side of that street.
Examples that come to mind include Waikiki Beach with its on-the-beach hotels backed up by Kalakaua Boulevard. Same goes for Acapulco or Cancun or just about any beach resort in Mexico.
So why are there no hotels built right on the beach in Avalon? While it may seem a trivial question, the answer is nonetheless fascinating and has everything to do with Avalon’s relationship with that bane and boon to humankind, alcohol.
Like many towns—resort towns in particular—Avalon has long had a sort of love-hate relationship with “John Barleycorn,” the old fashioned term for wine, beer, spirits, etc. From town founder George Shatto to the Banning Brothers to the Wrigley family, Avalon’s powers-that-be have dealt with alcohol in a variety of ways, from outright prohibition to grudging acceptance to welcoming the revenue it brings in.
George Shatto was perhaps the strictest of the teetotalers. Right from Avalon’s beginnings in the late 1880s, Shatto was engaged in a battle against the bottle with many of the fishermen, goat herders and assorted squatters who had made Catalina Island their home for many years.
In those days, the temperance movement was in full swing and Shatto counted himself as one of the strongest adherents to this anti-alcohol philosophy. George Shatto wanted no hooch on his island and getting caught selling alcohol could mean the loss of your lease.
Initially, the thorn in Shatto’s side in developing his temperance utopia consisted chiefly of a gentleman named Billy Bruin who sold hard liquor out of his “hardware” store, which butted up against the hill just inland of where the Tuna Club stands now.
Shatto was in fact so anti-alcohol that after months of trying to deal in a civilized manner with Bruin and his cohorts he hired a pair of men to burn Bruin’s place down, which they did.
Free enterprise being what it is, Billy Bruin’s answer to that was to head to the mainland and purchase a barge, which he then towed to Avalon Bay. It was from this barge that Bruin and his pals George Bryant and Henry Crocker continued to sell liquor. Selling their wares on the public waterways meant Shatto was powerless to stop them.
But Shatto wasn’t ready to throw in the bar towel yet and while he couldn’t ban the sale of liquor on Bruin’s barge, it was within his power to keep the booze from coming ashore. Therefore, in consultation with his right-hand man Charles Sumner, Shatto decided to lay out the streets and buildings of the town in such a way that there would be no structures close enough to the water into which Bruin could smuggle his hooch. Anything that came ashore would have to be moved under the watchful eyes of Shatto’s minions.
Thus, it was decided that the entire beach area of Avalon Bay would be kept clear of any buildings, including—you guessed it—hotels. Although a handful of buildings such as the Tuna Club and the Catalina Island Yacht Club were eventually built on the water, it was this early decree that essentially created the foundation for later ordinances banning building on the beach.
The final irony of this story is that—unbeknownst to Shatto—his trusted agent Charles Sumner was all along selling high-end liquor out of Room 6 at Shatto’s own Metropole Hotel.
All through the battles with Billy Bruin, George Bryant, Henry Crocker and scores of long-forgotten drifters, it turned out that Shatto’s right-hand man was selling the demon rum right under his very nose.
NEXT WEEK: PROHIBITION
Jim Watson is the author of “Mysterious Island: Catalina,” available on Amazon, Kindle and in stores all over Avalon.
