ROBERT GARDNER -- The Verdict

Many years ago, back in the 1950s, Mrs. Harry moved into Shorecliffs.

Although her name was Dorothy, no one ever called her by her first name.

She was always Mrs. Harry. She was that kind of person.

Mrs. Harry was a Canadian. She was also a widow and apparently pretty

well-off. Shortly after her arrival, she bought two lots in Corona del

Mar and gave them to the city for a new library.

We certainly needed one. The Corona del Mar library was a disgrace -- a

dinky little house on the grounds of the local elementary school (between

Carnation and Dahlia, now occupied by homes).

After school let out, about a zillion kids jammed themselves into that

little building, yelling, shouting, laughing. Mrs. Frazer, the librarian,

was an angel of patience with all that confusion, but we needed a library

and Mrs. Harry saw to it that we got one.

While she is to be saluted for that, Mrs. Harry is probably best

remembered by those who knew her not for her municipal munificence, but

for her life-size Santa Clauses.

This was something she had done in Canada and she transferred it to her

new neighborhood. She persuaded almost every woman in Shorecliffs to make

life-size Santa Clauses. Then all the women put their Santa Clauses on

their front yards -- skiing, surfing, drinking martinis.

Ours was climbing up the lamppost on the front lawn, a toy dog chasing

him.

It was quite a community display. Word got out, and pretty soon we had

bumper-to-bumper traffic every night as people from as far away as Azusa

and Monrovia drove to Shorecliffs with their children to see our Santa

Clauses.

It was quite a sight -- all those cars full of happy people and excited

children driving through Shorecliffs night after night. It was almost as

good as the Rose Parade.

Unfortunately, after a while, all those happy people bringing their

children to Shorecliffs stole all our Santa Clauses.

I can just imagine some happy father saying to his happy son, “Junior,

run up there and grab that there Santa Claus. He will look good in our

front room next to the Christmas tree.”

Whoever stole our Santa Claus also took the toy dog, then tore off his

head and threw his body on the lawn of a house down the street.

Mrs. Harry was devastated. She said that in Canada, the display lasted

for years and no one ever stole a single Santa Claus -- which goes to

show that Canadians are nicer people than Americans.

To make this sad story even sadder, Mrs. Harry met a handsome, young used

car salesman and married him. He took all her money and ran off, and she

died flat broke of a broken heart.

In the early days in Balboa, there was a local grump whose favorite

saying was, “People are no damned good.”

Maybe he was right.

* ROBERT GARDNER is a Corona del Mar resident and former judge. His

column appears Tuesdays.