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Yahoo!Last month, the Buellton City Council voted 3-2 to stop a sphere-of-influence study that might have been the first step to a dramatic expansion and urbanization of the area. It was a slim victory, but the proposal precipitated an unprecedented outpouring of emotion and public testimony. Hundreds of concerned Buellton residents and neighbors throughout the Santa Ynez Valley circulated petitions, organized a citizens’ action group (Buellton is Our Town), and spoke out with unexpected passion in defense of their community.
Buellton? I’d always thought of it as the plain-looking girl who stays home and does the chores while her more attractive sisters— Los Olivos, Ballard, Solvang, and Santa Ynez — go out strolling in pretty frocks. Buellton is where you buy gas and horse feed, pick up basic groceries, rent a tractor or a jackhammer, have your car repaired, and grab a burrito on the way home.
It comes by this reputation honestly. By 1875, Buellton’s founder, a successful farmer and businessman named Rufus Thomas Buell, was already running Buell Ranch as a self-sufficient town complete with general store, schoolhouse, blacksmith shop, and bunkhouses. His brother-in-law, William Budd (pictured), later opened the first official post office and named the town Buellton in 1920. As the automobile grew in popularity, gas stations, motels, and restaurants were built to accommodate travelers, and in the years immediately following World War II, Buellton proudly dubbed itself “Servicetown, U.S.A.”
So I wasn’t too far off the mark when I categorized Buellton as a stop for fuel, supplies, and services. But all this talk about expansion and development got me to thinking about what might be at risk. Is this one of those knee-jerk anti-growth reactions, or is there truly something special about Buellton? When I began to review my own experiences, I was surprised how many fond images came to mind. I thought of old-fashioned pancakes at Ellen’s, and Pattibakes, the perfect place to meet a friend for coffee, muffins, or quiche. There’s Rolling Hills Nursery, where Rocky used to lend us statues for school plays, no questions asked, even helping me to get them into my car. There are also Todd Pipe and Valley Tool Rental that are oh-so-thankfully not Home Depot, and the Humane Society where we got our own sweet dog 12 years ago. When you go to the movies in Buellton, you run into so many acquaintances that sitting in the theater before the show has the feeling of being in someone’s living room. There’s an ease in dealings around here that we just take for granted, and a pleasant sense of being someone when you’re out and about.
Buellton is a place where weathered old ranch hands in dungarees and boots climb out of their pickups in the Albertson’s parking lot, bales of feed and cattle dogs in the truck beds. It’s where post office clerks patiently help you tape up your package more securely with no one rushing you, where people actually smile and chat, and there are horse ranches, vineyards, and hazy mountains in view. Grown-up former students make coffee drinks at the Roasted Bean, where photographs by a local grad are displayed on the wall and there’s a sign in the window for a rodeo queen.
For a short time, there were morning lessons with Alejandro in the back of Pea Soup Anderson’s, when I tried to teach English (and learned a bit of Spanish) over orange juice and toast. And once — true story — an old cowboy took my hand and waltzed me about in a parking lot only because it was a bright New Year’s morning and that seemed a nice way to start the year.
That’s a lot right to lose, right there, but I sent an email to Joan Hartmann of Buellton is Our Town, and I asked her the question I had asked myself: “What makes Buellton special?” She sent me a handful of examples right off the top of her head:
“I love Gracian’s feed store and the pellet stove where people gather ’round on cool winter days,” she wrote, “and how good-looking fellows carry heavy things out to our car with a smile, and I always check out the bulletin board to see what’s new. I love Tonio’s, where Rosie works and will take time to share her grandmother’s mole recipe and give you her phone number in case you have any trouble when making it. My husband and I are especially fond of the little Buellton City Library. There’s Ramón Becerra’s arena at Buell Ranch, where many a community event has been held, from school fundraisers to memorial services, and Ramón often performs, demonstrating incredible skill with the horses — and there’s always great food, and it’s really funky but it’s like being on the set of an old-time movie. And I love biking on Santa Rosa Road. I am a big believer that we are all shaped by landscape — that’s why it’s so key to protect it.
“I just went to the history museum in Santa Ynez,” Joan continued, “and saw a room that talked a bit about each town’s history. Everyone loved the Buells! I wonder if something of that family character continues to emanate out into the town.” She added one more intriguing afterthought: “Buellton is déclassé. It has kind of a reverse chic.”
It’s true. And we love that. There is something genuine and unpretentious about the place. It’s real people working, kids riding their bikes to school, agriculture and commerce on a small rural scale — a human scale.
The forces for growth will not go away, but folks here have decided to play an active role in developing a clearer picture of what their community should be, working together for change that makes sense. This is occurring against the backdrop of a Santa Ynez Valley Community Plan and a new Baseline Report on the valley that the Santa Barbara county supervisors are calling for, perhaps to look at where to locate new housing that the rest of Santa Barbara doesn’t want. However, as Buellton resident Judi Stauffer wrote, “The citizens of Buellton and their neighbors have spoken out loudly and clearly about the kind of community they value … and it’s magical to behold.”
The city held a barbecue in the park recently, and I stopped by for an hour or so. There were hot dogs and tri-tip sandwiches, buckets of icy drinks, and various booths with information, products, and crafts set up around a wide expanse of green grass. Ladies from the Chamber of Commerce gave out candy and brochures, a pair of high school boys sold raffle tickets, kids ascended a rock-climbing wall, and a local band played old Beatles songs. I spoke to Buellton’s postmaster, Holly Sierra, and browsed through a collection of photos from the archives of local historian Curt Cragg, and I watched as a white-haired lady had her face painted by a teenaged girl, demonstrating that not even a yellow sun on the cheek can diminish natural elegance. It was a grand celebration.
Read the author's blog at stillamazed.typepad.com.
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