Elsinore Chapter 2

The Crescent

On any given day, Morris Kominsky could be found in the center of town, seated on one of several rockers on the porch in front of the huge old Chimes building on Graham Street. Morris was a striking man, who may have passed as Humphrey Bogart if not for the crow’s feet drooping down from his eyes and trailing the length of his middle-aged face. Years of worry had engraved those lines there, and there were trenches of equal depth on his furrowed brow.

Some people thought Morris had too much time on his hands, puffing away on his pipe for hours and buttonholing anyone who happened to stroll by, talking to them incessantly. Townspeople in a hurry opted to walk on the opposite side of the road. Despite the garrulous reputation that prompted some to avoid him, Morris never ran short of company. Everyone in town agreed that he was the main source for local news. Known for tall tales, Morris especially loved to boast of his chance encounter in the late 1940s with actor Steve McQueen .

         “I was sitting in this very chair,” he swore. “There was a loud rumbling and roaring. Before I could blink, he shows up out of nowhere on a motorcycle.

         “I was a bit aggravated, honestly,” Morris would tell his listeners. “And I didn’t even recognize this budding film star McQueen. I started chastising him for disturbing my peace. His big motorcycle kicked up a huge dust storm less than a yard in front of my face!

         “We don’t need trouble around here, I scolded the lad. But young Steve didn’t want trouble either. He just wanted to take a bath! I had to laugh. He came two years too late, because the bathhouses in The Chimes were already closed by then!”

         There was a time when The Chimes building hosted a steady stream of visitors. It was the most impressive bathhouse within hundreds of miles. Built in 1887 by Elsinore’s founder Franklin Heald, the Victorian-style structure designed by Frank Ferris boasted of Roman tubs, steam rooms, and hot mud baths.

         Morris would continue telling the story. “I informed McQueen that this place was called The Crescent back in the old days. Folks came from all over to unwind here. Important people like Clark Gable and that fella’ from the Tarzan movies, Johnny Weissmuller.”

         Morris would tell his listeners that the young McQueen already knew a lot of these important movie stars. And McQueen also had read all about The Crescent and the long list of celebrities who had visited there. That’s what had brought him to Elsinore in the first place—Steve wanted to see the place for himself. Not only that, but he had also heard of those healing waters, and he believed they were crying out for him to experience them.

         “I finally broke the bad news to the poor chap,” Morris would recall. “After water levels dropped in Elsinore’s wells, business also evaporated. The Crescent soon shut its doors. It’s now an antique store.”

         Morris said that McQueen was still curious enough to look inside, however. “Enter at your own risk!” Morris had warned the actor. “The place is haunted!”

         Morris wasn’t the only one in town to believe ghosts occupied the aging walls of The Chimes. Many such stories were well known, and they existed long before Morris had arrived in town. Rumors became especially rampant in 1939 after the son of Elsinore’s Deputy Sheriff drowned in the courtyard swimming pool. People swore the boy’s spirit never left.

Apparitions of another young girl, Gloria, had also been reported. An auto accident in front of The Crescent had claimed her mother’s life along with the poor child’s legs; both legs had to be amputated. Gloria was eventually brought to The Crescent for therapy. Sadly, the mineral water failed to prolong her life beyond childhood.

         “ I warned McQueen that he might hear Gloria crying for her mother,” said Morris. “And there was once a teddy bear that someone had put in The Crescent in memory of Gloria, but at regular intervals the stuffed bear would change resting places… by itself… unexplained.”

Morris would continue, “And I told Steve not to sit on either of those old motorcycles in there either, because spooks watched over those, too!”

         According to Morris’s description of that day’s events, McQueen walked into The Crescent, but he bolted out within five minutes. “I could see the sweat dripping from his forehead. That’s when I directed McQueen to another place where he could get a bath.”

         No one ever disagreed that The Crescent had opened wide the door of tourism to Elsinore. Even before this large edifice was built, however, the area’s healthful waters were well known to earlier inhabitants of the land. The waters for decades had aroused the attention of the many curious seekers of the unusual. Native Americans, Spanish missionaries, and Mexican Ranchers all believed that health and happiness sprang from the magical wells. The fact that the settlement was situated on the bank of Southern California’s largest natural lake was a helpful draw, too.

Nevertheless, it was the mineral springs that made Elsinore the esteemed resort city it was soon to become. In time, tourists arrived in droves, soaking in the springs as if they had tapped into a divine resource. Some imagined that the waters were from the Tree of Life itself.

         With the railroad station immediately across the street, The Crescent couldn’t keep pace with all the people arriving. It didn’t take long for other businesses to sprout up, helping to accommodate Elsinore’s numerous visitors. A host of inns, spas, and swimming holes soon transformed the dusty community into a recreational hot spot. Most of these businesses were Jewish owned, and before long Jews made up one third of the population—although not all of Elsinore’s residents were pleased with this statistic.

         Around this time a prolonged drought had turned much of Southern California, with the exception of Elsinore, into a land resembling the Gobi Desert. In response, a statewide master plan was developed to import water from the Colorado River, sending it to various areas. Unfortunately, the plan also included the replacement of Elsinore’s spring water—and this was a move that would quickly dry up tourism. Business owners adamantly objected. Sadly, their concerns were not shared by the powerbrokers in Sacramento. Elected bureaucrats had other worries, and safety was a chief one. As long as well-water levels in Elsinore remained low, fluoride levels remained high and, according to the government, highly toxic.

*Elsinore: The City of Hate Conspiracy https://www.amazon.com/dp/B075VYZSN2/  Get it on Kindle or paperback