I’ve recently had the opportunity to explore some abandoned buildings on a decommissioned military base. As an employee of the current owner of the buildings, my co-workers and I were checking to see if some equipment that we needed was stored in them, and to see if there was anything we could use in the future. The electricity is currently shut off, and most of the windows are boarded closed, so we took our flashlights.

One of the buildings we went into is part of the original base plan. The officer’s club was built in the 1930s, and although renovated to some degree throughout the years on the interior, it retains its original Spanish Eclectic details on the exterior and in the main rooms, which include a massive beamed common room with two fireplaces and ten foot-high arched windows, and a ballroom with a stage. The club is on a hill, and overlooks a bay – the location is magnificent – and I’ve heard lively stories from those who used to attend parties and dances there.

Wandering through its silent, dark, and cluttered spaces was viscerally sad. I have a tendency to wander off on my own, and found myself in the midst of a maze of cast-off office furniture in the huge common room, with only the faint beam of my wimpy flashlight to guide me. I called out my co-workers’ names, but they had disappeared. (Cue faint creepy music and the entrance of ghosts from a WWII officer’s ball…..yes, I have an over-active imagination.)

I found my co-workers a few minutes later, and no ghosts appeared, of course, but the sense of history there is truly tangible. I understand when buildings cannot be saved due to the expense of rehabilitation (esp. in CA for earthquake retrofitting), but to not re-use buildings with that kind of architectural and historical importance is the eradication of a piece of a community’s soul. I hope that someone can find a way to save that building.

To be continued…