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Streetscapes in the City of Avalon are different than in most communities. Located on an island off the Southern California coast, Avalon is 26 miles from the Port of Los Angeles. In this small resort town, there are more golf carts driven on the streets than cars.This unique streetscape is a perfect example of a sensitively handled restoration project that was carried out with the full participation of the residents.
After purchasing Catalina Island and the sleepy town of Avalon in 1919, Chicago chewing gum magnate William Wrigley Jr. set out to make Avalon a world-class resort destination. He began the process, and the Crescent Avenue promenade was designed and constructed in 1934 by his son Philip Wrigley and the Wrigley Company graphic designer, Otis Shepard.
“I am going to leave no stone unturned to make it a refuge from worry and work for rich and poor,” said Wrigley, and that’s exactly what Avalon became. After installing a water system complete with a reservoir and sewers, William Wrigley set out to construct the famous Casino Ballroom, a golf course, the Bird Park—an aviary, which was, at the time, the greatest collection of exotic birds in the world—hotels and other facilities. When Wrigley died in 1932 the pedestrian-only waterfront promenade was the finishing touch to the creation of Avalon. “Gradually, we may be able to make all of Catalina Island a monument to the early beginnings of California,” said Phillip. Known for its Big Band music in the Casino Ballroom, swimming, sport fishing, and sightseeing, quaint Avalon was frequently visited by Hollywood movie stars and dignitaries alike and became the international attraction Wrigley had foreseen.
After World War II, the advent of commercial airlines and the popularity of the automobile changed Avalon. Wrigley’s famous “Big White Steamships” (The S.S. Catalina and the S.S. Avalon) of the 1920s and 30s became passé, and by the 1960s were discontinued in favor of smaller public ferryboats, due to decreasing tourist travel to the Island. Decade-by-decade, through the 1990s, the original beauty of Avalon’s signature Crescent Avenue waterfront promenade was losing its luster. Public workshops lead by architects and planners in the 1980’s failed to reach consensus on a program for expanding and improving the downtown waterfront. In 1996, the City of Avalon sent out requests for proposals for a new consultant team.
The difficulty in reaching consensus was due to two distinctly different factions within the town. The “Preservationists” cherished the history of Avalon during its Wrigley heyday in the 1920s and 30s and did not want their town modernized and turned into another “Newport Beach or Santa Monica.” The “out-with-the-old/in-with-the-new” faction felt that the town had become run-down and needed changing. They were hoping for some bold innovations to create a new and more upscale feel.
“I am going to leave no stone unturned to make it a refuge from worry and work for rich and poor.” —William Wrigley Jr
Bob Borthwick, selected as the landscape architect and overall planner, met with Avalon’s then city manager, Rob Clark, prior to beginning the public workshop design process in the fall of 1996. “If you can come up with a design that everyone will agree to,” Clark stated, “it will be a miracle!” And so, on that note, the research and public input phase of the project began. Having worked on several projects for the City of Laguna Beach—also known as a city that has strong opinions and often divergent views—Borthwick’s experience with consensus building proved extremely valuable.
Having a strong interest in architectural history, Borthwick learned that there was a large file box of old photographs of Avalon stored in the office of the city clerk, a longtime Avalon resident with strongly partisan preservationist views. Says Borthwick, “I went to her office, introduced myself, and asked if I could look through the file of old pictures. She looked at me sternly and said: ‘You’re that new consultant from ‘over town’ (the local’s term for the mainland) aren’t you?’ I said ‘yes’, and started to explain why I wanted to look through the photographs…. She cut me off and said: ‘Why don’t you just get back on that boat out there and go back where you came from! We don’t need designers over here, we like things fine just the way they are!’ I took a deep breath and explained that I understood her feelings and also appreciated the history of the island. My reason to study the photographs was, of course, to make the new improvements, especially tile and masonry elements, as historically accurate as possible. She finally, although reluctantly, agreed to let me borrow and copy some of the pictures, and eventually became one of the projects biggest supporters.”
The following are a series of questions and Bob Borthwick’s answers about how this award-winning streetscape/urban design project came about.
LASN: “How was this project different from other streetscape projects?”
Borthwick: “Avalon is 26 miles from the coast of Southern California, in Los Angeles County. I think it’s safe to say that, in general, the 3,500 Avalon residents are independent and proud of the fact that they are not part of the greater Los Angeles megalopolis. They have no traffic signals, no malls, and are isolated from typical urban problems. As a result, they tend to strongly resist any attempts to change their town from its 1920s roots and make it more like the rest of Southern California. They are skeptical that consultants from ‘over town’ will ruin their town. I would probably feel the same way if I lived there. Luckily, my mother grew up in Los Angeles and her family vacations were spent in Avalon from the mid 1920s to the late 1930s. Every now and then I would bring up this bit of family history in a public workshop, and I don’t know, but it may have helped a bit with my credibility.”
LASN: “How did the public workshops add to the project?”
Borthwick: “One of the most important issues was the redesign of the Crescent Avenue/Metropole Avenue intersection, the crossroads of downtown Avalon. The question was to either preserve the existing wide median island with benches and mature olive trees installed by Wrigley in the 1920s, or demolish the median and reconfigure the intersection to better accommodate the large tour busses owned by the Island Company.
We had developed a preferred plan, which preserved the median island and made other alterations to accommodate the busses. We paid a traffic consultant to verify that the turning radii were workable. I presented the plan at a well-attended evening public workshop, and was met with vocal expressions of doubt by some community members. As the public debate continued, it appeared that there was an impasse: Could the busses make the turn, or not? All of a sudden, people started volunteering to help resolve the issue. A tour bus driver offered to bring his bus down to the intersection for a test run the next morning. The public works director volunteered to bring traffic cones to mark the proposed new curb locations. Someone else offered to videotape the dry run for the public record. Within a few minutes, a new on-site meeting was organized for the next morning. I delayed my trip back to the mainland to attend the new meeting, and it was done. Time after time, common sense and cooperation prevailed over ego and rigid thinking.”
LASN: “How was the city to work with?”
Borthwick: “We were fortunate to have wonderfully supportive city staff working with us, and the project could not have succeeded without their efforts. Angelo Kedis was the consummate project manager, who could see the big picture, and knew how to achieve it. Pastor Lopez, the public works director, a native Avalon resident who grew up on the Island and has a deep and passionate love for Catalina’s history, gave me insights into local traditions and concerns. Rob Clark, the city manager who initiated the project, was behind the scenes yet brought out the best in everyone.”
LASN: “Were there any ‘turning points’ in the project?”
Borthwick: “As the conclusion of the public workshop phase was approaching, I had a sense that it might not be possible to communicate the extent to which the public felt strongly about certain design elements in a city council meeting format…opening up the possibility that our workshop sessions could be for naught. I discussed this concern with the city’s project manager, and he agreed to ask the city council if we could have a town vote.
To their credit, the council agreed. We set up models and graphic displays in the post office, along with a questionnaire. When the results were compiled, the council voted to go with the majority opinion in all cases, and the resulting design became accepted as the public’s own. From that point on, the community seemed to pull together and put aside their previous differences. A consensus master plan had been developed and approved.”
LASN: “How was the construction of the project received by the business owners?”
Borthwick: “Angelo Kedis had an uncanny knack of knowing when to hold firm when business owners or residents were complaining about the project, and when to approach me about possible design modifications if a complaint or suggestion seemed justified.
For example, the contractors were starting to construct a seatwall near the take-out window of a local pizza restaurant. Prior to our project, the seatwall location had been a concrete sidewalk with two freestanding benches. The benches had been used for seating by those waiting for their pizza. The restaurant owner found Angelo, explained that with a longer seat wall and some other adjustments it would work better for him as well as his adjacent business neighbors. Angelo faxed over a sketch for me to look at, we talked about it over the phone, and a half hour later the revised seatwall was under construction.”
LASN: “Were there any personal interactions with townspeople that you would like to share?”
Borthwick: “ This project was nothing if not personal. We had specified black, smooth, flat pebbles (commonly known as ‘Mexican Pebbles’) to be used as decorative treatment in paving bands on the streetscape walkways. A similar treatment had been used on the original Crescent Avenue promenade. The decorative pebbles, hand-set, were starting to be installed by the contractor. The following weekend, on a Sunday, I received a call at home from the director of the Catalina Museum, Patricia Moore, asking me if the pebbles being installed were local stones gathered from Avalon’s shoreline, or were they ‘just regular stones?’ I explained that on a publicly funded project such as this, we had to specify a commercially available product since the local stones would be either on public beach or adjacent private land (owned by the Santa Catalina Island Company). Patricia explained how island residents are particular about keeping ‘island blood’ in Avalon’s projects, and was sure that we could get permission to use some local stones from the SCIC to mix in with the other pebbles. I sensed the importance of this gesture, and agreed to meet on the island the next day to get things arranged with the SCIC. By about noon that day, a city crew accompanied by the contractor, arrived with several buckets of flat, egg-sized decorative stones from Avalon’s nearby Pebbly Beach. The museum director and I, along with a few other interested citizens, ceremoniously placed some native stones in the wet concrete adjacent to the other nearly identical stones. The remainder of the Avalon pebbles were then mixed in with the Mexican pebbles, infusing some ‘island blood’ into the paving bands.”
LASN: “Are there any final thoughts you have about this project?”
Borthwick: “I would like to say that Avalon is a very unique and special place, and it was an honor to be able to get to know its people and help to shape their town. There is a very fine line between improving and ruining a historical landscape, and I hope that we accomplished the former.”
Originally called “Pimu” or Pemu’nga by the native Americans who had lived there safely for 2,500 years, in 1542 all that changed. The island was renamed Santa Catalina by Spanish mariner Juan Rodriguez Cabrillo, and claimed for Spain.
In 1805, a delegation of priests and soldiers came to the island to determine whether to establish a mission, but there wasn’t enough water, so they left—and left behind measles. The Pemu’ngans had no immunity. After Russian fur traders killed many of the remaining islanders, the survivors were relocated to the mainland as a humanitarian act. Within a year of their relocation most of them had succumbed to a combination of disease, diet change and cultural devastation.
But still, more and more people arrived on the island and there is little doubt that everyone who laid eyes on this mountainous little jewel off the California Coast fell in love. The last Constitutional Governor under Mexican rule, Don Pio Pico, granted title to Thomas M. Robbins in 1846. James Lick purchased the island in the 1860s. In 1887 title was granted to George R. Shatto, but because of financial difficulties, the title reverted to James Lick and his trustees again. People still visited and set up tents and cabins in Avalon, including Captain William Banning, known as the “Father of the Port of Los Angeles” who first saw the island in 1859. After his death in 1892, Banning’s sons took ownership and continued laying down the roots for turning Catalina Island into a resort. However, it was not until 1919 when William Wrigley Jr. made his decision to become the sole owner of Catalina, that the idea really began to pick up steam.
William Wrigley was born in 1861. His father was the founder of the Wrigley Scouring Soap Company. Tossed out of school during the eighth grade, William went to work for his father. Ten years later, he moved to Chicago and started his own company selling soap. However, he’d come up with the concept of giving away “premiums” along with the soap. His choice of “premium” was chewing gum. Soon, the gum was so popular it took center stage, and William entered the chewing gum business—and the rest is history.
In 1919 a friend, David Blankenhorn, mentioned that he was trying to sell an island in the Pacific—the island owned by the Bannings. Wrigley looked at a few colored postcards and asked, “How much money do you need to close the deal?” Three hours later, the papers were signed for the purchase of Catalina Island.
In the 1920s, Wrigley sold fee title to land with “bungalettes” that could be purchased for $500.00. But Wrigley still wanted to do more to make the island a good place to live year-round. He set up the Renton Mine in the 1920s at Pebbly Beach, where silver, zinc and lead were extracted. He upgraded the schools for Avalon’s children. Old buildings were torn down, new ones put up, sewers, water mains and gas lines were installed. A reservoir was built to provide fresh water year round. There were better streets, nicer homes for employees, inexpensive food products, plus wonderful entertainment and hotels for visitors. In 1928 Wrigley developed The Catalina Island Bird Park, the world’s largest aviary housing 8,000 rare and exotic birds.
From the 1920’s to the 1950s, the list of famous visitors to Avalon is very long indeed: Paulette Goddard, John Wayne, Errol Flynn, Tom Mix, Stan Laurel and Oliver Hardy, Alice Faye, David Niven, Judy Garland, Mickey Rooney, Howard Hughes, Jean Harlow, Andy Devine, Henry Fonda, Orson Wells, Delores Del Rio, Robert Mitchum, John Barrymore, Marilyn Monroe, Tony Curtis, Bing Crosby, James Cagney, General George S. Patton, Calvin Coolidge, Herbert Hoover, The Prince of Wales, Ronald Reagan, Richard Nixon…to name a few! In addition, the Chicago Cubs were William Wrigley’s team, and every summer, starting in 1921, they came to Avalon for spring training. The only years that the cubs did not train on the island were during the war years when the island was used by the military. Winston Churchill caught a one hundred and eighty pound marlin with rod and reel on a trip to Catalina. Two days later, he had lunch on the island with Charlie Chaplin, also a great lover of Avalon, who was shooting his film, “City Lights.”
In 1926, Wrigley’s car got stuck in the mud—which turned out to be adobe clay that was good enough quality to make bricks—and that was the beginning of the Catalina Tile and Decorative Pottery Plant. The company recruited many talented artisans and local production workers and this popular art form had its heyday from 1927 until 1937.
The Avalon Casino, Ballroom and Theater opened in 1929. The building was 140 feet high which made it the tallest building in Los Angeles at the time. The dome has no central lighting, but the silvered surface reflects color effects produced by 400 floodlights. A pipe organ was installed which cost, at the time, $50,000.
William Wrigley passed away in 1932, and his son Phillip continued the tradition of making Avalon “ a well-run independent community” as well as a playground for rich and poor alike. He also expanded on his father’s vision and brought Otis Shepherd, the Wrigley Company’s graphic designer, to design a promenade along Avalon Harbor. When it was redone in 1998, the town demanded that the original flavor be maintained just as the original flavor of Avalon’s day-to-day life has been maintained by its residents.
Wrigley, out one rainy day in the island’s golf course area, got stuck in a patch of adobe clay and thought it might be good for making bricks—and that was the start of the decorative Catalina tiles found all over the island. The original designs—many of them by Roger “Bud” Upton, a Catalina artist for over 60 years—were stenciled onto the raw clay using the “cuerdaseca” method, then glazed and fired. The heyday for Catalina Island tiles lasted from approximately 1927 to 1937. Richard Keit and Mary Kennedy of RTK Studios in Ojai, California, created new tiles and tile murals based on Avalon postcards circa 1930.
The town became something of an artist’s colony in the 1880s, and many of the “Plein Air” impressionist painters worked in its beautiful surroundings. Zane Grey built a home above Avalon in 1924, echoing the style of American Indian pueblos. His home is now a hotel. When Sir Arthur Conan Doyle visited Catalina in 1923, he said the island reminded him of the Italian Isle of Capri.
Francisco Uviña, University of New Mexico
Hardscape Oasis in Litchfield Park
Ash Nochian, Ph.D. Landscape Architect
November 12th, 2025
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