The corner of Blossom Hill Road and San Jose Avenue is not what it used to be. And it never was.
As I sat at Philz Coffee, right at said intersection, right where the Swanson Ford car dealership sat for 60 years, ghosts of two people told me to write the words I will now write.
The first ghost was that of legendary San Francisco Chronicle columnist Herb Caen, who wrote about the constantly changing San Francisco landscape, a huge influence on me, even if he insulted San Jose for decades. That’s a fact. But nevertheless, he provided a definitive perspective on how to accept the impermanence of civilization, just as I have also tried to do much further south.
The second ghost was that of photographer Arnold Del Carlo, whose aerial shots of the Swanson Ford dealership in the late ’50s are without parallel in the genre of suburban cowtown photography. Del Carlo was a genius. Much of his work is available in digital form at the Sourisseau Academy for State and Local History at SJSU.
Now, if my opening gambit confused you, that’s OK. In Los Gatos, there is no “San Jose Avenue” anymore. The same street has been called Los Gatos Boulevard for decades now. Before that, however, it was known as San Jose Avenue, which was also called San Jose–Los Gatos Road. For example, old postcards and advertisements for Swanson Ford feature an address of 16005 San Jose Ave. Eventually the address became 16005 Los Gatos Blvd.
Swanson Ford first moved from downtown Los Gatos to this corner in December 1959. The grand opening featured a Fairlane 500 two-door sedan for $2,092.
In 1959, this neighborhood was a different place, of course. Blossom Hill Road ended at San Jose Avenue and didn’t yet go all the way through to Winchester. Swanson Ford was surrounded by orchards and very little else. There was no Thrifty’s with three-scoop cones of ice cream for 15 cents. There was no Happy Hound and Scarlett LaRue’s.
As I contemplated the impermanence of life at Philz, I looked around. It was a nice Philz. There was a patio outside, right where the odd smell of hamburger filtered in from the place next door. Unlike the Philz by San Jose State, they weren’t stuck with a landlord that prevented everyone from using the bathroom.
Across the street, the Food Villa, I mean the Whole Foods, was apparently now too small for bougie Los Gatans, prompting its move half a mile north. The former Thrifty’s space was empty yet again. On the southeast corner, the Waldenbooks on Blossom Hill was destroyed so a Peet’s Coffee could take its place and cater to people that read newspapers and books in coffee shops.
The Google Maps entry for Philz said this:
“If you’re gearing up for a day of exploration or winding down after a scenic hike, Philz offers welcoming space to enjoy our unique, handcrafted coffee blends. Our passion for quality coffee and commitment to community makes us more than just a coffee shop; we’re a place where every visit is a memorable experience.”
A machine could have written that. One probably did. I couldn’t write that badly if I tried.
Nevertheless, this was true. My scenic hike through defunct car dealerships catapulted me into the dungeons of memory. And why limit myself to living memory?
So, after using the bathroom at Philz, I walked farther down San Jose Avenue, I mean, Los Gatos Boulevard, almost to Kennedy Road. It only took ten minutes to arrive at the former house of another famous car salesman, Joseph Cerrito. He was a different breed of businessman than Swanson. In the ’60s, Life magazine published a photo of Cerrito at a family event in Sicily, which got him in a lot of trouble. He’s long gone, but the house is still there.
The PR scribes who wrote the Philz entry were right. It was indeed a great place to wind down after a scenic hike through the bowels of Los Gatos history. I’m glad Arnold Del Carlo took those aerial photos. They should be on the wall at Philz. The neighborhood would be better for it.
