Before we begin today’s column, I just wanted to pass on to you, Dear Reader, some of the great feedback I got concerning last week’s column on the historical origins of the word “overtown”—our local colloquialism for “the mainland” for those not in the know.
Marcelino Saucedo remembers that the term was used at least as early as World War II by his family and friends up at Tremont.
Before we begin today’s column, I just wanted to pass on to you, Dear Reader, some of the great feedback I got concerning last week’s column on the historical origins of the word “overtown”—our local colloquialism for “the mainland” for those not in the know.
Marcelino Saucedo remembers that the term was used at least as early as World War II by his family and friends up at Tremont.
“’El otro lado’ was used by our parents,” said Marcelino. “We translated that to ‘the other side.’”
The older folks also used the term “otro pueblo,” he said. Although literally meaning “the other town,” Marcelino said that “ … youngsters translated that to ‘Overtown’.”
Further confirmation of this 1940s usage of the term comes from Alice Bensch (born Alice Brady) who lives on the Palos Verdes peninsula. Her family started visiting the Island in 1945 when she was a child.
“All the Island kids that we knew said ‘overtown,’” she said. “We just thought it was a version of going over to Los Angeles to shop, etc.”
So now we’ve placed usage of the word as early as the 1940s. But does it go back further?
We’ll have to see …
This Week: The Tragic Balloon Race of 1964
In planning the topics for this column, there is often an odd connection—a “coincidence” if you believe in such things—between current world events and when I schedule certain topics to write about.
I had actually planned to write this column on the tragic events surrounding the Catalina Channel Balloon Race at least a week before the horrific deaths of 19 tourists in Egypt, who were killed after their hot air balloon caught fire and plunged to earth near the ancient city of Luxor on Tuesday, Feb. 26.
While Catalina’s balloon race of 1964 did not reach the casualty level of the recent accident in Egypt, it nevertheless marks a sad moment in Catalina history.
Because of its high-profile location and proximity to one of the world’s largest population centers on earth, Catalina is the perfect staging ground for events that the organizers hope will one day become annual affairs.
Such events have been so common in our history they are too numerous to mention, but I’ll name a few anyway: the Catalina Grand Prix, the Catalina Festival of Art, the museum’s Silent Film Benefit, the Conservancy Ball, a plethora of long and medium-distance running events, a triathlon or two and many, many others.
Some of these events catch on and some never do, the reasons for which are varied and often specific to the event itself.
Major Mott’s “Round the Island” motorboat race in 1927, for example, was only held once because of weather that was so rough that most of the contestants had to be rescued. In fact, the winner of the race—a man named Leyland Jenkins—was the only contestant who even finished.
Then there were the highly successful chili cook-offs of the 1970s. These annual events were so successful, in fact, they soon spun out of control and the alcohol-fueled mayhem they spawned eventually forced the town to throw in the towel.
But on at least one occasion in Catalina history, such a wanna-be annual event never got a second chance because of the fact that it turned deadly.
Such was the case with the “First Annual” Catalina Channel Balloon Race held in 1964, an event that actually featured some hefty celebrity action in the form of none other than actor Cliff Robertson riding in one of the balloons. Robertson was one of Hollywood’s more popular leading men of the day, having just come off the heels of playing Lt. John F. Kennedy in the well-received “PT-109.” For the Catalina event, Robertson was decked out in 1890s-style clothing, presumably to reflect the Victorian-era heyday of hot-air ballooning.
Like the ‘Round the Island race of 1927, it was decided to hold the Catalina Channel Balloon Race in January, mostly because of the local business community’s unflagging efforts over the last century to lure visitors to the Island during the slow winter months.
Sunday, Jan. 18, 1964, was the fateful day and the idea was for a number of large hot air balloons to take off from the old Wrigley Field in Avalon Canyon and, utilizing the northwest winds, sail over the channel to whatever landing they could make on the mainland.
Sponsored by the California Balloon Club, the event featured an army of reporters and cameramen and, of course, lots and lots of locals who had turned out for the fun.
The entrants in the contest—the balloonists and their balloons—numbered eight in all and included well-known balloonists Don Piccard and Ed Yost as well as a lone woman entrant, Barbara Keith.
Each balloon was also to have its own chase boat on the salty brine far below to stay in communication with the balloon crews and to record distance and speed information.
The weather on this particular morning was troubling (the event had already been postponed a week because of fickle January weather) and the balloonists all gathered together at the ball field for a pow-wow on whether or not they really wanted to do this thing.
It was a close call, they said, but they all agreed to give it a go, including Keith who was heard to say firmly that she was going to take off whether the others did or not. Trouble started early for our heroes when Piccard’s balloon went down on the East End before even getting out over the water. A bit of overcast was forcing the balloons to keep a somewhat low altitude in order to maintain visual contact with their chase boats.
Robertson’s balloon, which he was sharing with a man named Frank Tallman, actually dipped into the sea at one point where the gondola actually capsized. The pair managed to get the balloon airborne again, but the two men were doomed to spend the rest of the contest soaked and freezing in the chill January winds.
By the end of the day, all of the other balloons had ditched in the ocean, save that of Ed Yost, who had intentionally landed his balloon in the surf at the mainland to avoid the large crowds gathered on the beach.
A banquet was held that night with all of the contestants in attendance—save one. As the evening wore on, the gathered race participants became more and more concerned that Barbara Keith was not present and no one seemed to know where she was or whether or not she had been accounted for.
The chase boat assigned to Keith’s balloon—the “Melody Joe” piloted by Jack Watts—had early on lost contact with the balloon through a combination of low cloud cover and choppy sea conditions that at one point forced Watts to return to Avalon Harbor.
By dusk, a report had come in of a balloon down in the sea with a smoke signal visible about 20 miles off San Onofre, but darkness was falling and at 7 p.m. the Coast Guard halted the search for the night and officially declared Keith’s balloon missing.
At daybreak the search began again and with the help of more reported sightings, the Coast Guard finally located the downed balloon. There, in the capsized gondola, they found the body of Keith, who had died of hypothermia.
No attempt was made to hold the event the following year and the Catalina Channel Balloon Race faded into Island lore.
Jim Watson is the author of “Mysterious Island: Catalina,” available on Amazon, Kindle and in stores all over Avalon.
