Malibu Potteries (1926-1932) saved Rhoda May Rindge from foreclosure.

Back to the Garden at Malibu's Adamson House

Tucked between Malibu Creek State Park and Malibu Lagoon State Beach, there's an old estate that dates back in time and may be worth a pit stop next time you're speeding down PCH, trying to get away from L.A. as fast as you can. I like to take the bus here from Santa Monica - somewhat less expeditious, I know, but it's $2.50 for the roundtrip and doesn't add to my already quite modest carbon footprint. The Adamson House lies about halfway between two bus stops, one at the refurbished Malibu Pier, the other at Counry Mart, which I described in an earlier post.

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This quirky, unexpectedly lush abode along the roadside may under the purview of the state park system, but admission is free and the women's restroom is like something out of a Jane Austen novel, a private room with furniture and a window looking out at the ocean. A Victorian cloth drapes a small table in the corner, adorned with fresh flowers in a vase. This is a nice place to cry, or at least take some deep breaths and collect yourself in a pinch, when you're far from home and feel yourself unraveling, as I sometimes do (like every five minutes ...), but be prepared for a long wait to partake of such a tranquil refuge. I noticed that once the door shuts, nobody seems to want to come out anytime soon.

Back outdoors, you'll traverse a dirt path that winds between flower beds and a patch of lawn, listening to a songbird serenade you as you meander along. The main attraction itself, the old house, is locked up, which I found rather disappointing. I imagine if you go on one of the tours that stops at the top of the hour, you'll get inside, but that'll cost you $5 and a huge dose of patience. I didn't have either the day I went, deciding to pass on the lesson in Spanish colonial architecture, the art of ceramic tiles and whatever else was discussed out of my hearing range. To be sure, quite a number of folks did seem to be soaking up every moment, and they were all women my age.

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Adjacent to the house sits the visitor center (in the left photo below), where the tours start. In this lackluster little museum you'll peruse some exhibits describing the Chumash Indians and early pioneers in Malibu, as well as the family which lived here for so long and gave the place its name.

The Chumash referred to this seaside paradise as Humalino, “the surf that sounds loudly." Native people probably occupied the site for hundreds, if not thousands of years before Spanish explorers dropped anchor in the mid 16th century. An official land grant from Mexico officially established "Rancho Malibu" in 1802. Andong before the term "sub-prime mortgage" was coined, a European bought the land for about ten cents an acre seventy years later. After that, Frederick Hastings Rindge and his wife Rhoda paid a whopping $10 and $20 and acre in 1891 when they took over. Boy, those were the days to get into real estate.

Tragically, Rindge died in 1905. Rhoda carried out his plans to finish work on a huge ranch (now a Franciscan retreat across the highway), despite having to pay a big inheritance tax and interest. It all worked out and in the 1920's the Rindge spread was considered among the most valuable single real estate holdings in the United States.

To generate cash, Rhoda started Malibu Potteries in 1926, a ceramic tile factory that quickly gained international notoriety, with the aid of locally-excavated red clay, and flourished until the Great Depression. She invited a few Hollywood celebs to come out and live along the beachfront with her, eventually selling a big chunk of land that developed into what's called the Malibu Colony. Actors and directors swarmed into Malibu like locusts, building vacation homes and counting their lucky stars to be free of their stuffy L.A. haunts in summertime. Today, the Colony is a gated community, located just west of the lagoon that borders Adamson House to the north.

Inside the house. Photo credit: California State Parks

After circling the house from the outside, admiring the tilework in the fountains, I returned to the garden and started shooting some of the shapes and colors that abound there. What a lot of blooming things, for this loamy, fog-filled coastal climate. Then another photographer approached me, her husband lagging behind, and asked about my macro lens. I told her I didn't have one, then showed her the setting on my Rebel XT with the little flower icon. "That's cheating," she said. I was taken aback. It's not like I was replicating pictures in a book. The flowers below do exist and were in no way coached to strike a certain pose.

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It's true, every now and then I may play around with the hue and saturation settings in Photoshop, or use the "Sharpen" filter to actually bring the images into focus, but I'm sure even National Geographic does that. Maybe this lady was trying to make small talk. Too bad about that. It was chilly out that day, and my pre-coffee brain moving slow, so I kept walking, eventually arriving back at the Beachhouse, which is just across that bathroom I mentioned. State Park personnel have converted this structure into offices, which makes sense, since it's perched right by the entrance gate.

And now I think I've told you everything about the Adamson House except how it got to be called Adamson House. That just occurred to me... Hmmm, why isn't it called the Rindge House? Did Rhoda remarry? Did she sell the house? And did the Chumash Indians predict the end of the world in 2012? Well, I guess I should have plunked down the $5 and gone on the damn tour. Now I have to load my bike on that bus rack again and make another trip to Malibu so I can get my facts straight.

Travel writing can be so wearing...

M.T.

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