It was the 1960s, an era best described as the counter-culture with its social and sexual revolution and also a time as one of irresponsible excess and flamboyance. Rampant drug use has become inextricably associated with the counter-culture of the era, as Jefferson Airplane co-founder Paul Kantner said: “If you can remember anything about the sixties, then you weren’t really there.”
Except San Fransisco, or anywhere else in the country, didn’t have Pacific Beach’s “Maynard’s by the Sea”, an iconic bar right across the street from Crystal Pier. Maynard’s took all that revolutionary bullshit, mixed in the counter-culture by adding a zillion kegs of beer, and floated the top with a army of 16-wheelers filled with hard liquor. It was joked, “More Jack Daniels was consumed in one day at Maynard’s than the rest of California did in one month.”
Maynard Heatherly was the owner that always had a cheap cigar dangling out of his mouth, wearing a Panama hat and Hawaiian shirt. Maynard liked to drink and have a good time about it. Maynard’s bar was a cocktail of trans-culture, a kick-back tropical environment, Mexican/American/Italian food, and biker/beachboy/cowboy mentality complete with an occasional knock down, drag out bar-fight.
Oh Golly Geee whiz … it was a lovely place to be when the muffled roars of 20-30 choppers with biker colors pulled up…
The Hells Angels and Iron Horsemen did frequent the place … oh boy … more entertainment…
Maynard’s was THE spot in the ’60s and ’70s, that is, if you were not a “Golly Geee Whiz ” type of person. National Lampoon’s Animal House’s crazy, booze-driven characters would have fit right in at Maynard’s, which makes one wonder … if the script was written by Maynard and edited by David Osborn from the Red Mountain Inn? Hmmm, very interesting!
If you did not drink and drink hard, you did not belong.
Beside the fact of hard cord drinking, it was also known for its cheap and very greasy food specials that drew the drug-crazed hippies out of their flats in Mission Beach and gave the hangovers their daily nutrition with their 25-cents Spaghetti and Taco Night Specials during the week, and ending it with a Sunday morning Spanish Omelets.
“What a GREAT way to spend a Sunday morning on the Coast!,” Jack and company used to always say.
If you were underage, or just hungry and broke, like many of the hippies and beach rats were, you could order from the outside window on Ocean Boulevard, which at times was almost a block long. A spaghetti meal was delivered on a paper plate covered in noodles, smothered in a something “red” sauce, maybe one meatball, and always two pieces of white Wonderbread, dripping in butter. The plate had to be held by two hands and then it became a balancing act trying to avoid slipping on the grease walking away.
You did not leave hungry. All the crazed weekend drunks ended up in Maynard’s.
It was where Jack McPherson & Bob Rakestraw made the first stencil for Mac Meda t-shirts using a grocery bag when they went down there on a packed Sunday’s noon breakfast.
Tiny Brain (sorry forgot his real name) was the real life Bluto (John Belushi in the movie Animal House) when he worked there and was famous for chugging a pitcher of beer by biting on lip of the pitcher and drinking it non stop with no hands. Tiny could chug a fifth non stop, but Rackstraw said it didn’t count as he saw him throw up once after downing a bottle.
After the Chargers lost a game, Pat Shea would come in. He’d sit down and didn’t want anyone sitting by him. One side of the bar was packed and the other side was just Pat by himself.
Maylan, the Chargers strength coach at the time, and who had the first gym in La Jolla, used to come in. He would power down an couple of shooters and turn to the stranger sitting next to him, with a shit-eating grin, grab the person glass and start eating it.
One day the cops came in looking for Maynard, he ran out the back door and they chased him down Crystal Pier, he jumped into ocean and hit his head and died, so ending the Pacific Beach legend.
Jack had ordered recreations of Maynard Cartoon logo t-shirts just before he died.
Thanks to Dave Osborn for some of the content and photos.
I lived in Mission Beach in 1965-1966. I remember Spaghetti nights at Maynard’s, but also the people! There was a go-go-dancer named Linda Hannah (everyone called her Mama Linda) and a crew of beach people around her: Alley Bob, (who lived near Saska’s), Quazi (a big black guy who played the bass), Wayn-o(who could imitate almost any instrument with his mouth), Sweet Mary, Jordie (who later married Linda), Artist John, Pasadena John, Snip & Arnie, Grub, Little Sarah….nobody seemed to have a last name in those days. The two cops on the beat were Henderson & Lindstrom. I met Linda around 2am in Uncle Susie’s when she came in and ordered half a coke, then proceeded to fill up the glass from a flask of booze. I was only 18, just out of high school, and I was very impressed. Linda was about 10 years older and I thought she was the coolest person I had ever seen.
The best of days! Late 60’s…We never missed eating lunch at Maynard’s during our day of waterskiing off Santa Clara Point. My sisters and I have a debate going….did he or did he not serve pancakes topped with chili?!?!?
I still have my Maynard’s tee shirt. Hung out when I lived at San Juan Hotel Mission Beach. Having a nice discussion with President of Hells Angles when a babe broke a beer glass over his head.
First surf North of Christal Pier.
Jimmy Polus an abb diver owned it when I dated Carol Polus. Got extra abb for $1.50 Saturday. Good to have a Greek girl friend!
Don’t tell any one, I proposed to my wife over a Sunday pitcher with tomato juice (Different Carol).
The Court Room, Carol 2 (LJHS ’63) and friends stiffed us for the bill.
Miss Red Mountain Inn and Pennant.
Then we spent 33 years in Hawaii. Still drinking wine. Now no one will admit to $1.50 Red Mountain and grunion at Tory Pines / Del Mar beach.
Memories are killing me of Maynards, Crystal Pier and all the good times on the Beach
MY BRO Ken Gardner tended BAR there for awhile and I got to come in after closing, or other times…
REALLY miss that place, but MISS my Brother more
R I P Maynards
R I P Big BRO…..Love and miss you
Grew up on hornblend me an my bros were frequent fliers dave,jess an Pete raised on Maynard’s food breakrito ,double omlet,whats taco Tuesday?haha taquitos blue cheese sauce salad kept my board stashed at the strange door,I sure miss the way it was,fire rings,food basket,beach reantals,no rules,hard for today’s people to understand us…..m.a. 4/12/2020
I just came across one of Maynard’s business cards. Such memories.
Two young gals lived on Mission Beach and left in 1964 to move to San Jose. We used to love to go to PB and Maynard’s. We were just 21 and not heavy drinkers but we sure loved the place. I met my boyfriend, Jon, there.
Sad story about how Maynard died and the place was torn down. Glad I wasn’t there to experience it.
We too loved Owen’s omelette’s…how do I get in touch with owen or his son Steve Denicola for the recipe of that still remembered omelet??? Or where can I go to buy it? Ah, I’m still thinking of those omelettes and remembering the good times. Miss Tugs too. Maynards was a little ahead of my time.
Worked with and at Maynard’s in the 1960’s . Maynard had his long board on display there and the one door entry to the rest room was in the S/E corner of the bar.. Ed Teagle was the owner at that time and was one of the original beach rats . Ed became a renowned high school track coach (google him) in Imperial Beach and the So. Bay area. Rest in peace two great guys.
I also spent so much time at Maynard’s that I considered it home away from home! We surfed and when we were tired we went to. maynards to eat and drink. It was the best spaghetti and toast I ever had, And the huevos rancheros on Sunday…unbeatable!! It was the best place to hang out. I don’t think my parents ever knew I was there, at least they never menti9ned it. You keep talking about a Maynard’s book. I would LOVE to know the name of it or any information on it so I. Oils pick up a copy. I haven’t heard about it before, but it would be perfect, if someone could let me know i would be so grateful!! Thanks!q
I recall pounding abalone steaks on my back porch between wax paper and cheese cloth, then selling the steaks to Maynard for $10 to pay for gas. Don’t recall the year now.
I remember maynard’s as if it were yesterday. Jackie macphereson “stole” me from the south mission crowd. I abandon the “beachcomber ” “pennant” for maynards.. lost touch after I moved to LA. reconnected with mac ,in the 90’s, but it was never the same. remember maynards funeral as the biggest I ever saw.. Jackie macs death & the paddleout @ windansea was SO sad. those were the most fun & decadant days. I will NEVER forget.
I was standing to the left of Z when he took the Maynard’s picture. Girlfriend for 8 1/2 years. His bike is the third from the left, front.
The first publication of his Maynard’s picture was in the Easy Rider magazine, maybe early 1973, along with a story by Judy (can’t remember her last name). I remember them collaborating in El Rabos prior mailing the picture and story to the biker magazine. I believe the story was called Death of a Biker Bar. I had a copy of that Easy Rider but it was taken, grew feet and walked away. It would be nice to re-read that story.
Wasn’t spaghetti Wednesdays? Sunday morning omelets: eggs, water, Tabasco sauce. 25 cents. “Come hither, Clairemont girls of Spring” gestured this innocent portal.
Bikers and Mac Meda aficionados both, I think, did runs all the way to Oregon, home of Red Mountain gallon jugs of wine. Phil Castagnola, prosperous and portly, ran the Olympic Surf Shop opposite across Garnet, from which errant young raided delivery trucks to Food Mart, slipping through to drop off their plunder. “Filthy” Phil gained class over time, but like other Red Mountain-self-medicating, was finally floored by its wisdom.
Maynards was indeed a center of of myriad nefarious webs. The bikers were often Iron Horsemen returned from inland clashes with Hell’s Angels, but were kind when brains unmixed with reds and ethanol. Hidden in minds of a generation are fables of these giant bears, exceeding the stupefaction experienced with Grimm-er tales of imposing ursines.
Webs tying together aboriginals from Mount Soledad to innocents born in the strand of Mission, like Songlines emanating from that ancient cornucopia, the lair of the spider that eats livers.
I had my first and only Abalone sandwich at Maynard’s. My friends and I would bike down from Clairemont and watch the cool Biker Dudes–seems like there was always the atmosphere of danger in the air when the biker gangs got together.