For children who lived in our neighborhood in the 1950’s and 60’s, the riverbed behind the home on Stevely was a playland. Many residents have shared memories of the “ditch,” which was then an unpaved riverbed where plants grew in abundance.

John Murrin was four years old when his family became original owners of a home on Los Santos. He describes the ditch as “a wilderness and our wonderland frontier and escape hatch” in a memoir he wrote for us about his childhood in our neighborhood.

The children’s gateway into the ditch was through a big field to the south of us that was filled with cacti. According to John, “all sorts of vegetation would come down that ditch from the mountains and would often seed in the riverbed… You could see the vegetation growing, fast and furious –vines and trees growing ten to fifteen feet” that were a maze to a child.

John admits that they had to climb fences to get there. The ditch was supposedly “off limits” for him, but the lure of the wilderness where children went barefooted and built rafts was too much to resist. He writes, “I can remember one summer I stepped on a broken bottle, possible there from some other group of kids. I didn’t want to tell my parents I was playing in the ditch… so I never told them I was injured. I walked on the side of my foot for months.”

“We had a wonderful area we could play in… it was very pastoral. But we could also see and feel the evolution of the area as it changed from country to city,” John continues. Once the riverbed was paved and the berm went in, the magical riverbed with its lure to a Huckleberry Finn adventure was lost. The accompanying photos of the riverbed area was taken this year behind the homes on Stevely, attending to the change from childhood wonderland to what it is today.

Although our tract was originally planned to include through traffic on Stearns and Atherton to Orange County, those plans changed, perhaps with the building of the 605 Freeway, keeping the fields and ditch more sheltered. Aren’t we glad that these political and geophysical circumstances came together to create our cozy El Dorado?

Continuing another chapter in the memoir that John Murrin recently wrote about how it was in our neighborhood when he lived as a child with his original-owner family on Los Santos, he wonders about the frogs and toads that are missing from our lawns. He remembers those warm summer days that seemed to last forever, followed by damp, cool evenings and mornings that used to bring toads, lizards and frogs right outside their door. He admits to wondering where they all went, when he comes back to visit.

Other things were different, too. At first when they arrived, Los Santos Drive was not paved and there were no fences between houses. John writes, “It was fun to walk around and see neighbors and get to know them. We got to know our neighbors much better then because of the lack of fences. Now it seems that everyone likes the fences and to hide behind them for the privacy they offer.”

Huge changes also occurred in the area that was to become El Dorado Park. John remembers the cattle grazing there; nearby was a kid’s play area near the location of the senior center today. The kids loved the concrete statues of elephants and dinosaurs. John remembers that all the kids climbed on them, but you had to be good to make it to the top! He remembers a huge swing set that could accommodate ten kids, and when the tractors came in and shaped the duck pond leaving the island in the middle.

Eventually, they heard talk that El Dorado Park had been approved as a regional park which they were told would be the equivalent of New York’s Central Park. They heard about the golf course, the tennis courts, the ballparks, and the services that would be available which would make this area one of the nicest in town. They were proud to hear that; but in the meantime, farmers were still farming the area. John remembers the green beans that the kids loved to pick. He admits that it must have driven the farmers mad and negatively affected their crops; but kids would bring home the green beans and parents would make gobs of green bean casseroles and other dishes with them, all for free.

One of the first playground staffers was a big, tall Mexican man, whose name John could not remember. He loved to call the cattle. John was always amazed that this man could put his hands around his mouth and make a loud moo-sounding noise that would attract the cattle.

Although John loved all the aspects of being a country boy, as the area changed and the farms were paved over, that side of him seemed to slip away. Sports, academics, working in stores, paper routes, and swap meets became the new things to do. Although John became a city boy, just reminiscing about that bygone era has given him a sense of nostalgia and impetus to find that kind of lifestyle again.

Adding another chapter to the childhood experiences of John Murrin who moved into a home on Los Santos in 1954, John remembers that as he and his friends grew older, their camaraderie changed from a loose pack of boys roaming the neighborhood parks, and ditches, to a group of adventurers making bicycle treks to such far-away places as Knott's Berry Farm. Perhaps newer EPSNA residents might not remember when Knott's Berry Farm started out as a farmer's market at the side of the road. There was no admission to the park as the western-themed attractions were added by Mr. Knott to attract customers to his produce stand and to his restaurants. John and his friends especially liked the wishing wells, because retrieving coins from them became their main source of admittance to many of the rides and attractions.

Eventually, as time passed, the area between here and there changed from rural farmlands to developing homes and roads busy with traffic, making the trip more and more dangerous for kids on bikes. John regrets that kids in our area can no longer inexpensively roam around in a way that is safe and fun.

John's present-day love of eggplant reverts to one of his bicycle trips to Knott's. Sometimes, involved in their fun, the boys would lose track of time, and arrive home late – much to John's mother's displeasure. To hopefully appease her anger on one such occasion, he picked an eggplant from a field to bring to her. She became so distracted by it, that he escaped punishment

On a personal note, in the early 60's, my husband and I were young parents, transplants from the East Coast, trying to finish college, with no discretionary money. Oh, what fun it was on a Sunday afternoon to drive out to Knott's and push the stroller around the western-themed town, watching the impressive steam engine pulling the train, laughing at the mock cowboy shootout show on the street, and posing for photos with the plaster saloon ladies sitting on benches. And if we were feeling rich, we could go into the crooked house, ride the stagecoach, or split a piece of boysenberry pie. Those were the days!