The New Center Of Town

Your Boulevardier today attended the open house for the new Performing Arts Center in Castro Valley. The event was billed as a tour, but instead visitors were greeted at the door with a floorplan and invited to explore. School district employees were posted strategically around the building to answer questions.

There were a few gripes (punctuation on the signs for the restrooms, seeming lack of storage space, and the eternal dark cloud of parking were three complaints overheard by Your Boulevardier) but in general the reaction was one of wonder and civic pride. The whole of Castro Valley's citizenry were represented, from gruff-talking contractor-types in jeans to multigenerational Asian families to well-dressed folks who had likely contributed to the center's construction. Many talked about the fund-raising concert the night before. (Alas, the event, at $100 per ticket, was not in Your Bouelvardier's budget.) Of the crowd in attendance, probably numbering in the low three figures over the course of an hour, your Boulevardier was surprised to see very few children were in attendance; the center was, after all, built primarily for their use and education.

The 516-seat theatre is a study in deep red and black, with reddish-stained wooden walls and burgundy seats (comfortable, but lacking legroom), and black floors, ceilings, and stage. The black stage worried some visitors -- too dark, they thought -- until we learned that some 250 "lighting instruments" are trained on the stage (and operated from a control board worthy of the Starship Enterprise). The impressive-looking sound system -- the term "state of the art" was tossed about liberally -- includes up to 24 wireless microphones, though a technician told Your Boulevardier that more than 15 at a time are not recommended due to frequency limitations.

The two catwalks that spanned the ceiling and a high platform for spotlight operators above the control booth were off-limits; otherwise, the visitors -- whose tax dollars helped to build the center -- were encouraged to go everywhere and ask any questions. Strangely, this liberty to explore included men and women visiting each others' restrooms. Your Boulevardier eschewed this opportunity, though the floorplan revealed the answer to the pressing question left unasked: the ladies' room has seven stalls, while the mens' has three stalls and four spots for standing. Also of note: the ladies' room has five sinks, while the men's has four.

A seven-foot Yamaha grand piano, described as "stiff" by one player, graced the stage. Another, shorter instrument, a vintage Steinway donated to the center, stood in the lobby. (The story behind these pianos seems to be in dispute -- if the Yamaha is paid for, why is a piano fund-raising concert needed? -- but regardless, their presence is indeed a fine addition to the center's equipment.) Members of the Castro Valley Chamber Orchestra performed a sound check on the stage while visitors milled about. Your Boulevardier took this opportunity to check the acoustics, and he believes that the row of Standing Room spots behind the last row of seats may, in the end, turn out to be prime real estate. He cannot wait to test this hypothesis in a live concert.

A Grand Opening of a Closure

Your Boulevardier, accompanied by the Trusty BoulevarDog, braved the morning chill to watch the glorious chaos on Strobridge Avenue. It was not an original idea; a dozen Baywood-area residents, including two other fine-looking dogs, had turned out to cheer as cars took the Strobridge Avenue exit from 580 only to find their favorite shortcut now cut short. No longer will persons passing from Tracy to San Mateo use neighborhood streets to shave their commutes.

The viewers had strived mightily with the county and other public agencies to get Strobridge Avenue closed to southbound traffic. The goal was, in essence, to reclaim their neighborhood streets from persons who would drive very rapidly (often while talking on the telephone, shaving, applying makeup, or reading) down Strobridge, up Hobert Street, down Bedford past Strobridge School, and finally down Grove Way to meet Foothill Boulevard. The preferred route, as the traffic planners envisioned it years ago when 580 was widened, was for motorists to turn right at the bottom of the Strobridge Exit from 580 Westbound, turn right, circle Fast Food Island, turn left on the Boulevard, and proceed down Mattox Road to Foothill Boulevard. As the young people say, "Yeah, right." Often, two or three cycles of the stoplight are required to simply make the left turn onto Castro Valley Boulevard. So motorists found they could cut through the quiet streets of the Baywood District to connect to Foothill Boulevard and points south and west. As growth exploded in the Tri-Valley and Central Valley area, cut-through traffic grew accordingly. And the drivers were rude -- pity the residents of Hobert who would wait fifteen minutes some mornings for the opportunity to exit their own driveways. Not to mention the poor crossing guards at Strobridge School, who risked life and limb on a weekdaily basis to shepherd the children to school. Neighborhood residents suffered impacts of cut-through drivers for years before organizing, mobilizing, and eventually prevailing. Thus the blockage.

And now, as previously noted, those residents were on the street, in the cold of the morning, watching a nearby Highway Patrolman issue tickets said to be in the amount of $250 to those who, upon encountering a half-dozen immense signs announcing that the road was closed, decided that their time was still more important than the quality of life of Baywood residents and drove around the barriers. Other drivers turned right on Gary Drive (it's said that the gates on either end of the Mesa Verde community were left open, but it remains to be seen how long that will last) or turned left, back onto 580 but eastbound this time, to take the Redwood Road exit and follow the six-lane Redwood Road and A Street in Hayward to their appointed destination.

A celebratory mood prevailed among the barrier watchers. A card table with coffee and snacks was set out; cheers arose when motorists got tickets. (Two were issued in the time Your Boulevardier and the Trusty BoulevarDog were in attendance; it was said that a handful had been given since 7:00 a.m.) Mostly, the purpose of the residents' gathering was to see and congratulate one another and bear witness, perhaps, to the reclaiming of their neighborhood.

A map of the area discussed in this post may be found here.

Good Morning, Mister! Snip, snip, snip!

Your Boulevardier, in need of proper grooming, made his semimonthly visit to the Village Barber Shop in Castro Valley today. Three barbers were working: the proprietor, Al Proietti; the somewhat cantankerous but beloved Paul; and my barber of choice, Terence Lim. Your Boulevardier declines to use the moniker "Limbo" for Mr. Lim, though he seems not to mind it himself.

A pleasant crowd was in attendance: mostly older gentlemen, a few younger. One fellow came on a motorcycle, and got a flat-top. Another patron got a beard trim but did not remove his baseball cap. A distinguished, well-dressed fellow appeared to be coming from or going to a business meeting. Another appeared to be a construction worker on his day off. No young boys were getting their first haircuts today.

Al greeted most customers by name on arrival. Other than that, conversation was minimal; Paul made a comment on how President Bush was the greatest president ever, and nobody chose to debate him -- though much conversation ensued about the fact that nobody had chosen to take the bait. Surprisingly, Paul was not talking about his exploits on a recent casino junket on this morning, as he frequently does. The unspoken story is that Paul has been suffering some ill health, and perhaps his energy level (and talkativeness) are reduced accordingly.

As usual, Al ran the cash register, answered the telephone, and swept the floor. "The owner handles the cash and the trash," one patron remarked.

Al was enforcing the use of the take-a-number machine, in spite of the fact that the crowd in the chairs proved good-natured and seemed self-ordered. Every patron, upon arrival, was asked if he had left a coat behind on a previous visit, as Al was trying to find the owner for some forgotten outerwear. His query was frequently met with comical quips -- "I don't know, is it a nice coat? If so, it's mine," one fellow joked -- but the coat was not reunited with its owner this morning. Most patrons -- Your Boulevardier included -- made a point of telling Al as they left that they had, in fact, taken their coats this time.

The sun shone brightly but coolly as Your Boulevardier left the shop. A slight breeze tickled now-shorn temples. It was not a day one would forget a coat -- the weather would remind one upon departure that a coat was needed.

P.S. Today's headline is courtesy of Mr. Tom Waits.

All Quiet on the West End

The day dawned cloudy and temperate, and Your Boulevardier decided to take advantage of the fact and do a bit of early morning exploring. Well, not precisely exploring, but an extended walk on the Boulevard, from the middle of the East End -- Norbridge Avenue, to be precise -- through Midtown, and to the extent of the West End.

The first stop was, as it often is, Rudy's Donut House. The usual cast of characters were in attendance: older gentlemen talking sports and current events at one table; little girls eyeballing the cases of treats; empty-nesters running into each other on accident and asking how their respective children were faring now that they're out of the house. Your Boulevardier ordered a medium coffee, a blueberry cake donut, and a chocolate raised.

Continuing westbound, we found county work crews kicking up prodigious clouds of dust near the corner of San Miguel at around 8:30 a.m. Your Bouelvardier couldn't determine the actual source of the dust, but another pedestrian explained that they were grinding the pavement. A trail of fine powder ran from Chester Street onto the Boulevard, westbound, scattered by the backwash of passing cars. It seemed a good day to do such work, as rain is predicted for later today -- the dust will be settled, and eventually washed away.

Your Boulevardier proceeded to give his first good look at the remodeled Tony & Ted's Liquor Store. An earlier Boulevardier post commented on the lack of progress in construction, but at this point a concession must be made: the building is looking restored and habitable. (Though the parking lot remains a patched mess.) Among the pleasant touches: two dozen light fixtures in the building that channel sunlight from the roof into the store. So, even without windows on the sides, the store will be naturally lit in the daytime. A county flyer announcing Mr. Son X. Hoang's application for a conditional use permit -- to restore his liquor license -- hung from a nearby telephone pole, the hearing slated for January 25. Though Mr. Hoang has had many troubles with his business in the past, Your Boulevardier wishes him good luck in the hearing.

Last of the Giants?

Due to the Trusty BoulevarDog's ongoing ankle arthritis, Your Boulevardier and said Dog have taken to taking shorter walks. One lovely road near the home gets frequent attention on these strolls: Tanglewood Drive. If you haven't visited Tanglewood Drive, a visit is recommended. It branches off of Grove Way, near Carlos Bee Park on the Castro Valley - Hayward border.

It's a short street with a woodsy creek along one side. Homes on that side of the street are accessed via small bridges.

The opposite side of the street was once known -- some 30 years ago -- for its magnificent sycamore trees. Unfortunately, it was also constructed with narrow -- eighteen-inch, I believe -- drive strips, so the trees caused the sidewalks to buckle and raise. Over the years most of the great sycamores -- some of which were 50-70 feet tall -- have been removed. Only three remain. (Two others, pollarded, don't count in the eyes of Your Boulevardier because they have been prevented from reaching their natural height.)

This morning, Your Boulevardier noticed that the sidewalk next to two of the remaining sycamores is being repaired. The old sidewalk has been removed, and much chopping of roots is involved. While Your Boulevardier is not an arborist, he cannot believe that this treatment bodes well for the trees' long-term health. Those roots were there for a reason.

The battle over the rights of trees, roots, sidewalks, property owners, and public officials has gone on for years. Your Boulevardier fully understands the need to keep sidewalks level, smooth, and safe. But one cannot help but be saddened when the health of magnificent trees is compromised. The solution, it must be said, should have been enacted decades ago, before the trees completely devastated the walkways.

Muddy Water

Your Boulevardier's paddling companion has phoned in sick today, so our usual Wednesday morning kayak adventure on Lake Chabot has been scrubbed. One hopes the paddling companion recovers promptly. In the meantime, Your Boulevardier will recount last week's outing.

We met at the lake at 8:00 a.m. In the summer we prefer to paddle as early as 6:00 a.m., but in winter the hours are adjusted to match the sun's, and 8:00 a.m. is about as early as one can go out and still see something.

And there was much to see. A week of rains, many of them torrential, had filled the lake to overflowing with muddy, muddy water. It had also washed down a considerable quantity of debris -- logs, branches, bark, soda bottles, liquor bottles, and other flotsam. Between the elevated water level, the altered water color, and the ample layer of junk afloat, the lake looked utterly foreign. It smelled different, too -- not bad (as the lake does when the water level is low and the shoreline mud is exposed), but earthy.

As we paddled in the very still air, we contemplated how the muddy water might affect the fish population, and especially their ability to breathe. Does the dirt in the water clog their gills, we wondered? My companion made the apt comparison to smog.

Ever the environmental do-gooders, we collected some of the man-made flotsam as we paddled to the dam and back. We noticed that some of the lake's docks were now no longer walkable from the shoreline -- that is, the shoreline that had been above their gangplanks was now inundated. And at least one of the shorline stairways ended, quite literally, in the lake -- indeed, a fisherman sat on its steps with his line dipped. The birdlife we saw -- mainly coots and herons -- seemed to be actively avoiding the water. Once at the dam, we found ourselves tempted to paddle closer to the spillway to see it in action, but we obeyed the buoys and kept our distance. As we paddled back to the docks, a breeze came up and gave us a chill.

Your Boulevardier heartily recommends visiting Lake Chabot at this time of year, especially after a prolonged rainstorm. It proves to be a different place -- not necessarily nicer than its springtime glory, but interesting in its transformation.

Another Pleasant Valley Tuesday

Your Boulevardier walked Midtown to the East Side today, taking in a sunny but cool winter morning.

It has been far too long since Your Boulevardier has walked the Boulevard, and far too long since this journal has been updated. The main excuse I plead is the rheumatism of the Trusty BoulevarDog. She has been taking her Doggy Vioxx and Glucosamine for many months now, but she still limps after long walks on pavement. So our walks have been shorter; we have not reached the Boulevard very often. And when we have, I have failed to post. Regrets all around.

Walking would certainly do Your Boulevardier some good. I must admit to a few extra bons in my vivant these last few months. I resolve to do better.