Dave Fritzen was a force of nature — full of contradictions, a master at making friends despite his backhanded compliments and loving insults as he pointed out what he found obvious. He had an incredibly generous spirit and was full of fun, but you never knew what might come out of his mouth, which was half the fun of having him around.
Founder and editor in chief of Santa Barbara Magazine, Dave was also a father, husband, uncle, grandpa, friend, cousin, and entrepreneur, with a powerfully creative and observant spirit. His magic: He shaped the world around him into his own vision, making others believe in the inevitability of his vision, so much so that they began to assist in its creation. He used that gift in the creation of magazines that inspired dreams of homes and islands. Despite a long and serious illness, Dave’s death was a surprise — a testament to his ability to create his own reality. My dad lived wholly in the present.
When Dad was born in June 1944, his father, Vernon, was still away fighting WWII, so father and son wouldn’t meet until Dave was already walking. His younger brother Don was his best friend his entire life; my sister and I grew up with cousins who were more like siblings. Dave’s mother, Lorene, represented everything loving in his early life, and he spoke reverently of her until his very last days. Her death from cancer when he was in his early thirties was one of the greatest tragedies of his life.
As is often true of the sensitive and intelligent, Dave had problems with authority. His father had difficulty understanding his rambunctious son who was constantly getting into trouble, albeit of the more innocent type. He was an excellent athlete, even pitching with Hall of Famer Tom “Terrific” Seaver at Fresno High School. Soon after graduating from Fresno State University, he was drafted into the Army. He had just started dating a beautiful Italian-American girl, Andrea Fish, and wasted no time in asking her to marry him. They wed two days after Christmas in 1968 and honeymooned at Andrea’s nonna’s San Francisco apartment during his short leave. Having forgotten the keys, Dave climbed up the fire escape and broke into the apartment on their wedding night.
They were stationed in Augusta, Georgia; Dave never saw combat in Vietnam. His typing ability coupled with his sniper-attack-encouraging height led to an administrative position. He secretly produced a weekly barracks newsletter on the side, clearly an early publishing experience that led to his future career. He disliked military life and took the first honorable opportunity to quit the Army and return to California. Not to Fresno, however. The couple had fallen in love with Santa Barbara. Dave started selling sandwiches out of their VW bus, receiving a small check from his employer, the owner of Miratti’s Liquor on De la Vina Street. With that, he started the first of his magazines based on his own fantasies, Unique Homes. “Uniques” invited the reader to drift into a world where you just might buy that turtle-shell shaped house with a pool flowing underneath it.
Santa Barbara Magazine and Islands magazine were next. Based on the same premise, Dave invited the reader to partake in his fantasies of the world’s most beautiful places. Santa Barbara Magazine won a prestigious Maggie Award a few years after its inception, having basically invented the local luxury magazine genre. Santa Barbara Magazine is still published internationally, though he sold it in the late 1990s. Dad had leather-bound volumes made as gifts for my sister, Krista, and I, one of his only tangible preparations for a world in which he would no longer live. Turning the pages allows us to step into the Santa Barbara of the 1970s and ’80s, capturing the zeitgeist and feeling of the town and, indeed, of coastal California itself.
It was a magical childhood for us. Our parents were young and successful and firmly believed in living now. Dad started Resorts and Great Hotels, which allowed him to take the family on experiences worldwide that are only a dream for most. Perhaps living this lifestyle was a way of showing his own father that success was possible without putting in 30 years of drudgery at the same company. Dave ran a casual office of chipper, talented, and artistic people, creating something other people wanted to be a part of. The last decade of his career was spent producing the Seasons magazine, another love letter to Santa Barbara, a place that seemed to complement his belief that the point of life is to play and enjoy — the golfing and fishing and celebrating with family and friends. “Ride the wave … with Dave” was his well-known invitation to join the fun.
As a child, I remember asking my dad why, unlike so many of my friends’ fathers, he always wore sandals and Hawaiian shirts to work. He said it was because he just couldn’t have a job in which he couldn’t. I believed him then; I still believe him.
David William Fritzen passed away on February 12, 2025. He will be greatly missed.
