For the first time in my life, 50 years ago, I experienced Christmas and New Year’s in a warm locale — San Diego. Besides the obvious contrasts, e.g., greater physical comfort, less coats, etc., I don’t remember particular differences, however.
I assume that I and others of my ilk — single males — mooched as much as possible during the holidays from those like Fred and Pam Palmore, couples that provided us loners a sense, at least, of family life.
The particular memory I have of the time, however, is a holiday party. Actually, events surrounding it more than the party itself.
It was at CDR Robinson’s house in Coronado, located right across the street from the main entrance to NAS North Island. I don’t know if it was a Christmas or New Year’s Eve party.
A bunch of us attended, likely after some baseline fueling at the North Island Officers Club. My vague recollection is that it was attended by “older” folk, in their 30s and 40s, and was “proper.” Not at all the demographic and style I and my cohort represented. I recall we didn’t stay long.
We left to find more and better fun. On leaving, me in my Plymouth Barracuda 340S and my boss, LT Webber, in his Corvette, we decided to see who could get to our destination first. Hence, the North Island-to-Mexican Village race began.
We ripped through quiet Coronado streets. Reaching Orange Avenue, the main drag, I watched Webber’s ‘Vette roar through the green light and careen to the left. As I went through the intersection in a similar manner, I noticed a police car on the right waiting at the light. Sh*t!
He lit up immediately and pursued me. I pulled over to the side of the street. Webber just took off.
Sitting there, waiting for the officer to walk up to me, I considered the situation. I hoped I would not be given a sobriety test. Duh. I was in a car with Virginia license plates and I held a Massachusetts driver’s license. I wondered if that was going to be a problem.
The officer came up to my car and asked for said license and registration. No problem with the variances. Most military at the time had similar situations. No sobriety test, either.
“If I could have gotten the Corvette, too,” he said, “I’d have cited the two of you for street racing.”
Instead, he cited me for “following too closely.”
After all was said and done, he took off and I proceeded to my original destination — the Mexican Village cantina. I recall entering to a raucous volume of ridicule from compatriots awaiting me, including the particularly smug LT Webber.
The Mexican Village was, for many of us, our base. I later learned it had served that purpose throughout the ’60s and ’70s for personnel stationed in Coronado. There is even reference to it being called “Mex-Pac” and that was later the brand name of the restaurant’s commercial line of food. I was not at all an aficianado of Mexican cuisine at the time, but I suspect that the quality of the food was not the attraction. Maybe it was the margaritas.
Nonetheless, the Mexican Village was our place. And by that I also mean it was an unofficial officers’ club. I don’t remember it specifically at the time, but I’ve read that it was a place in which enlisted personnel would not be welcome. Nothing “legal” about it, just social pressure.
The food was the gringo version of Mexican food (indeed the owners at the time were Canadian hockey players), but for many of us it was an introduction to an entirely new cuisine. Here is a menu from 1967. Note there are “Mexican” and “American” dinners.
The original Mexican Village, located in what had been Coronado’s original fire house, closed in 2009. When I lived in San Diego in 1982-84, I took my family to eat there and it looked pretty much as it had 12 years earlier. I was very disappointed to learn when I moved again to San Diego County in 2012 that it was no longer in operation. A new Mexican Village opened a few years later at a nearby location. That site is now the Coronado Brewing Company.
A few weeks following my traffic violation, I appeared in court, wearing service dress blues. Based on my clean record (I’d been in California about five months), the judge said that if I had no other violations in the next six months, my record would be expunged. Case closed.
Happy new year to all! And, 2020, don’t let the door hit you on the way out.