July 31, 2002     Los Gatos, California Since 1881 Photograph by Grant Wernick Longtime mountain resident Charley Norman helped to start the Loma Prieta Fire Department in the early 1960s. Life on 'the Mountain' is different, and the residents there like it that way By Joanna Rauh Things are different on the mountain. The air hangs suspended, luxuriously saturated in the scents of redwood and wildflowers. The sky stretches itself out, unharassed by the sharp cut of a manmade skyline and the hazy glare of streetlamps. The very earth itself rests, rich with the tears of toil and triumph from the generations upon generations of those individuals who have called "the Mountain" home. The Los Gatos Mountain community has traditionally proven somewhat of a mystery to those who are not part of it—an enigmatic paradise of rural novelties and delights wrought with an equal amount of rural terrors and drudgeries. Renowned for its beauty and history and often alluded to in accounts of natural disaster, this area has also proven to be a totally unique community in its own right, a community of exceptionally independent individuals who greatly depend upon each other. Spanish explorers and clergymen of the 1700s were the first Europeans to traverse what they then called the Blue Mountains, inching along the California coastline in search of possible trading ventures and building sites for missions. The first real population surge didn't occur until the 1850s, when pioneers like the locally famous Charles Henry McKiernan (a.k.a. Mountain Charley) migrated across the country, lured by the prospect of new challenges, opportunities and freedoms afforded by the Santa Cruz Mountains. It has only been since the mid 20th century, however, that what is now known as the Mountain Community truly began to take shape. 'The Hill' "The Hill," as it is commonly referred to, acts as a natural border between Santa Cruz and Santa Clara counties. It is, therefore, officially governed by both districts, even though the mountain community itself is significantly detached from the amenities of both counties. This is, perhaps, one of the many reasons the area has developed such strong internal ties and vibrant community involvement. "You're far enough out of downtown that people realize they need to do more as an individual to make the community work," says long-time mountain resident, architect Guy Denues. Over the past 50 years, strong foundations have been laid for dedicated community involvement, an absolutely quintessential branch of which is the Loma Prieta Joint Union School District. In 1951, four small mountain schoolhouses combined to form educational conglomerate Loma Prieta Elementary. It was also the year that community figurehead Charley Norman purchased his first property on the mountain. He was working for Westinghouse in San Jose and had heard from a co-worker about the attributes of mountain living. Norman bought one acre (for $1,200) on Melody Lane, and by 1952 had built a house. Norman's oldest son, David, entered the first grade at Loma Prieta Grammar School that same year. Later, officials would attempt to combine Saratoga, Los Gatos and Loma Prieta school districts into one. The mountain district, however, maintaining it's independent spirit, fought to stay autonomous. Today, one of the main attractions of The Mountain community is the small school setting. Parents of children in the Lakeside, Lexington and Loma Prieta districts all count the intimate school environment as a huge factor in why they chose to reside in the mountains. Teachers get to know the kids, and kids get to know the teachers, regardless of whether or not they have class together. Denues' parents bought property on the mountain in 1957. He started as a second-grader at Loma Prieta Elementary School, continued through C.T. English Middle School, attended Los Gatos High School and West Valley Community College, eventually earning his degree from Cal Poly, San Luis Obispo. There, he met his wife, Kris, now an established sixth-grade humanities teacher at her husband's alma mater. "I always felt that this was an ideal place to raise kids," says Denues. "I always knew that I'd be back up here for that." Kris, originally from Turlock in the San Joaquin Valley, admits that she was unsure what to expect of life on the Hill as a newlywed. "I had no idea," she says. "But it's been totally worth it." As for teaching, says Kris, "Up here, I'm not just a teacher on campus, I'm a teacher everywhere I go, because I see my kids everywhere." "I love the kids up here," she adds. "I love kids all over, but these guys are special. They're so warm, and so self-assured. I think that quality of independence is a real strength up here." The Denueses also credit the mountain atmosphere with providing their own children, daughter Sydni and son Charlie, with a strong sense of family. "Charlie and Sydni learned to play together because it's not like they can just run down the street and meet four of their friends. I think that really helps a family to grow together and play together," says Denues. "And it forces them to be creative. It's like, if you want to skateboard, you're going to have to build a place to do it. And they find a way to do it." As for Sydni and Charlie, they say there's no place they'd rather be. "I've done a lot of stuff that other people haven't done," says Charlie. "I'll always think of my house as a free space—being able to hike in the backyard and follow the creek ... [making] forts with buddies ... [going] down to play in the forest. I can't do that in the city." Because the community has a limited population and resources, parents are encouraged to be involved and contribute in school functions as much as possible. "The school is probably the tie that binds the community together," says Norman. "The amount of attention that is paid to the school district by the residents is incredible. It is the hub, the center of their lives, especially if they have children. They want to get involved." Community spirit It was this community spirit that proved incredibly advantageous in the early 1980s. Loma Prieta locals decided they wanted to build a gymnasium for their middle school and create a place for community members to meet and enjoy activities together. Norman recalls, "There was just a group of people who got together and said, 'Hey, wouldn't it be nice? Maybe we could actually do something to get all those things.' And sure enough, through perseverance, hard work and love we got it." The Loma Prieta Community Foundation was born, and plans were quickly developed to create what is now known as the Community Center. It wasn't easy however; the school district straddles two counties, and funding had to be sought from both. Now, the Loma Prieta Community Center is abuzz with activity. There are senior services, athletics, arts and crafts festivities and charity benefits, to name a few of the activities the Center accommodates. Theater in the Mountains was conceived of in the early 1990s by a few parents of C.T. English Middle School students interested in theater arts. Today, it is a regionally recognized company, offering a plethora of performance classes from tap to Shakespeare, putting on multiple productions a year. The gymnasium itself has, in its short lifetime, already served a pivotal role in ensuring the very survival of the mountain community. The earthquake of '89 left many residents stranded on the mountaintop without a home. The community immediately pulled together, turning the middle school gym into a shelter, organizing a massive Red Cross effort, and managing to serve no less than 300 meals within the first 24 hours of the quake. Community members poured forth to give aide where it was needed, conducting search and rescue operations, organizing care units and providing supplies. Says Denues of the community efforts, "I think—probably even way back—people came out here because they had this little independent streak. 'I want to breathe a little bit on my own, I want to be able to flex my arms a bit and do what I want to do.' That's probably what still gets people up here—that feeling of 'I want to go somewhere I don't have to worry about everybody looking over my shoulder all the time.' "The flip side is that a lot of those people who come up with that attitude of independence, when something has to be done up here, they just say, 'Fine, what do we have to do?' So, you have independent people who don't hesitate to be part of the community." "At one time we had what was called a Vigilante Road Committee here," offers Norman. "It was the late '80s and the county was short of money; they would not or could not fix the potholes in the road. So a group of individuals, along with the fire department and some churches, decided that we would try to do something about it. We filled in the potholes. We had the priest of the Catholic Church directing traffic on the road, and he blessed the dump truck." "Well, we got into big trouble over that," he adds. "The county accused us of vigilantism—said we were doing things that we had no permit to do, we had no insurance to do. We had no inspection, and really, no right to fill those potholes. But, we didn't care. It was sort of like a catalyst. [The county] did start putting a little more time into potholes in this area. Just another group of people who decided to actually do something." Photograph by Grant Wernick The Denues, (from left) Kris and Guy, decided that living the mountain life was the best way to raise their two children, (from left on water tank) Charlie and Syndi. Fire department Perhaps one of the mountain community's greatest feats, however, is an organization Charley Norman helped to spearhead after the devastating fire of '61. "The fire department was established as just a group of people getting together and saying, 'Shall we call ourselves firemen and just do what we can do?' " says Norman. Because the Cold War was still ongoing, Civil Defense soon picked up the self-proclaimed firefighters, outfitting them with an old tanker they used to contain water, an ambulance and a jeep. A few years later, the group of men held the first annual Volunteer Firemen's Barbecue, earning enough money and donated materials to build a firehouse. When the '85 Lexington Fire hit, the California Division of Forestry brought in departments all the way from Oregon, Southern California and everywhere in between. A fire truck was stationed in front of every residence at risk, but it was the Loma Prieta Volunteer Firemen alone who were given the go-ahead to mobilize, putting out spot fires wherever they sprang up. The '85 fire and consequent mudslides are also what motivated a small group of mountain women to start a publication with the specific intent of informing residents regarding which neighbors had access to tractors, extra water and other emergency supplies in the case of an imminent catastrophe. The first publication was eight pages long, circulating mainly in the Summit "mountain network." This pamphlet's progeny, the 40-page Mountain Network News monthly community magazine, is now received by over 4,000 mountain-wide households. "The Mountain Network News gives community members a platform to speak," says Neil Wiley, 37-year mountain resident and editor of the magazine. MNN publishes everything from locals' letters, lists of mountain events and features on mountain residents to nature columns, a health section, mountain safety tips, history, classifieds and school information, for, of and about mountain community members. Wiley, who moved onto the Hill in 1965 with wife, Marlene, raised four daughters in the community. The family has taken an active role on the mountain since day one and remains in firm support of residential involvement. "We liked that the kids were able to participate in more activities, and that there was a closer relationship between our family and the school board, the teachers and the administration," says Wiley of the school district. Marlene has dedicated many years to the development of community activities in the mountain through her role as a substitute teacher at C.T. English, as well as her involvement with one of the oldest mountain organizations, the Loma Prieta Club. According to Marlene, this club was founded in 1905 by a group of women living in what was then considered the Burl District. It was a social organization as well as a practical one. The women provided general support to the female community and went on charity calls, taking meals to and caring for sick neighbors. "Today we have a bridge club, a quilting group, golf; we give a scholarship every year to a high school senior from the mountains, usually graduating from Los Gatos High. We also support the Volunteer Firemen, the Women's Crisis Center in Santa Cruz, and give money to three mountain churches. It's an enjoyable group to belong to, because it's a group that cares about the community. And we have fun together," says Marlene. Changing community The mountain community is ever changing. "There's a whole new generation up here now," says Wiley. Real estate has become a valued commodity. Property value is going up, as is the income of most new residents. Organizations that originally sprung out of specific community need and interest, such as mountain health spas, fine art guilds, wineries, riding clubs and Theater in the Mountains are now attracting attention far outside of the mountain range. This, in addition to the community's ever-increasing dedication to education, is causing people to start calling the mountain community one of the last truly "small town" environments around. The secret is out. "People want the community, the peace and the good environment to raise a family," says Alain Pinel Realtor and former mountain resident Sharon Thompson. According to Thompson, the attributes of living in an area with clean air, open space and native wildlife that's also just a short drive away from the suburban area of Los Gatos is becoming exceeding appealing to young families, especially those who can afford to hire a contractor to build a house just for them. Properties in the mountains are now ranging from $300,000 to multimillion-dollar homes. Although longtime residents are excited about the recent surge in interest in mountain life, some are concerned that settlers may not be fully aware of the realities of living close to nature. "I always tell people that if they turn on the water tap and no water comes out, and they panic, they should not live in the mountains," warns Neil Wiley. Guy Denues has encountered new residents not used to power failures or the loss of hot water; eventualities all mountain residents come to accept and deal with. "Sometimes people expect to have everything they had in town," says Denues. "And that is just not possible on the mountain." 'The long haul' So far, however, most of those who come to the mountain have stayed for "the long haul, not just the season," as Kris Denues describes it. All three of Charlie Norman's children stayed on The Mountain to raise children of their own, quite like the young Denues family. Individuals who move to the area for the specific interest of keeping land and animals, like 32-year-resident and current president of Summit Riders Club, Becky Lowe, are still enjoying the expansive sunsets and open fields. But there are still some paths yet to be forged on the Hill. A volunteer-run Sheriff's Deputy station has recently been initiated into the community, but even now there is no official medical facility; there are two vets but no doctor's offices. Moreover, the public transportation system is practically non-existent. Needless to say, there are still plenty of opportunities on the mountain for independent, self-assured and community motivated individuals who understand just what living in the mountains means. Tucked away in the Los Gatos and Santa Cruz Mountains live a group of people as dedicated to the community as they are to the individuals. Doctors, lawyers, chefs, machinists, artists, builders, naturalists, businessmen, scientists, pastors—though the people who have made a life for themselves here represent a vast array of personal and professional backgrounds, they do seem to share a few key characteristics. For some reason, they have all decided that the sometimes long, sometimes bumpy drive home on a mountain road is worth the extra time and effort. They know all the "mountain marquees," inconspicuous plywood signs marked with phone numbers for hauling and tractor work, and the hand-painted posts inscribed "Fresh Eggs" or "Plums For Sale" or "Apples"; signs that blend in with the dappled shadows of roadside saplings. And they know the nighttime sounds—autumn winds, winter rains, springtime frogs and summer crickets. Coyote calls replace the roar of cars, stars stand in for lampposts. Joanna Rauh, a freelance writer for the Los Gatos Weekly-Times, is a mountain resident.