July 21, 2006

Time stands still

Generations enjoyed the simple pleasures at Twin Creeks Resort

By Jeanne Carbone Lewis
Staff Writer

Once upon a time there was a place where summer days meandered into peaceful months without a care in the world. Where families hiked, fished, danced and amused themselves with simple pleasures. Where kids grew up and married their childhood friends. Where memories and friendships lasted a lifetime. This place is called Twin Creeks and a visit there today is a time warp into the sweet memories of the past.

Jack Minkel and Chuck Ferrier share memories of Twin Creek’s past in front of the lodge. Photos by Jeanne Carbone Lewis

Above New Almaden and past Almaden Reservoir is Twin Creeks. The cabins are rented monthly now, but in the 1920s it was a resort where San Franciscans would come to idle away the summertime by the scenic Haybert and Barrett Creeks that ran into the Las Alamitos.

“It was a different era,” said Almaden resident Chuck Ferrier whose grandfather, Charles Ferrier, built the three main houses for $2,000 each on the original 318 acres of the resort in 1924. “Everyone was friendly and no one was in a hurry. I like the old stuff. People say I was born 100 years too late.”

Ferrier wistfully recalls the stories told to him as a child. Stories of long days fishing for crawdads and trout, target shooting, hunting, and swimming in the manmade pool by a dammed creek and the chicken barbecues and dancing that followed afterwards. His grandfather and father were blacksmiths on the property by necessity and Ferrier became one as well when he lived at Twin Creeks from 1971 to 1985.

“They made their own beer and wine during prohibition,” said Ferrier. “The sheriff’s office would call and say they were coming up and they’d put everything away. It was a different time.”

But a visit to Twin Creeks today seems as though not much has changed. The original three homes still stand, one where Ferrier’s grandfather lived and the same one the grandson called home. The rustic cabins are nestled in brush and trees winding around the creeks. The swimming pools are still open for a resident’s pleasure—one for adept swimmers and a wading pool for the toddler set. Charles Ferrier used a Fresno scraper and a team of horses for the impression needed for the future pool. Ferrier remembers the story that his father was the first person to split his head open at the bottom of the pool. Maybe he was trying to impress his future wife whom he met at the resort during those lazy days of summer. The picnic area has disappeared; some was used for firewood years ago, others disintegrated through time. But the namesake creeks ripple through the locale as it always has.

Twin Creeks had its own postcards. Here are the community store and the man-made swimming pool. Photos courtesy of Chuck Ferrier

The beginning
Originally a few cabins on the property were for the Quicksilver miners who worked the Almaden Mines up the hill in the second half of the 1800s. A structure by the pools still stands where meals were cooked for the hard-working men. After the mine closed in the early 1900s, Twin Creeks catered to campers with a few cabins with outhouses and no kitchens.

In 1927, Mario Perpoli along with partners Charlie Ferrier and Herman Dieckmann purchased the land as a resort. Perpoli eventually bought out Dieckmann. One of the first improvements they made was adding electricity. The partners started building cabins rumored at the cost of $50 each. At first they were basic, no indoor plumbing or kitchens. That would come later. Families also camped out in tents.

Under the ownership of Purpoli and Ferrier a store, lodge, barn and swimming pools were constructed. Ferrier even stocked the creeks with crawdads along with the trout already present. More adventurous souls hunted the indigenous animals that roamed the hillside. Deer and wild boar still adorn the knotty pine walls of the lodge, proud hunts from decades past.

“This is springtime and the fishing laws only just suspended,” wrote Paul E. Springer about Twin Creeks. “Each deep pool has its fisherman, clad in most proper sporting style-khaki, high rubber boots—equipped with the best of tackle. A hundred of them must have been, upon that stream, just as thick or thicker than the no trespass signs that hung above the course, for this is California, a youthful place and still reluctant to believe its angling must be curtailed by private ownership. In all that angler array I saw but a single fish, for already the first-day enthusiasts had skimmed the cream.”

San Franciscan firefighters, policeman, and a few butchers and electricians would rent out the cabins for $100 a year. The men would bring their wives and children at the beginning of the summer, husbands departing for their workweek and returning for relaxing weekends with their families and friends.

“I hated the wintertime,” said Betty Perpoli Germano, an only child who grew up at Twin Creeks until after she married. “The nearest other child was two miles away. Every once in awhile the summer people would come during the winter. But we did write. I still have the friendships with the people who came in the summertime. We take off where we left off as if no time has passed. No one can understand it unless they were there. My memories are of much cherished times at Twin Creeks and the friendships created.”

The Admissions Day Parade began at Twin Creeks in the 1930s. Later it was called the Almaden Day Parade. Horses, mules, buggies and covered wagons with their occupants would wave and call out to crowds lining the road. The event was sponsored by Twin Creeks residents who enthusiastically participated.

“Gibson girls, Indian chieftains, tomahawk-wielding tots and pajama-garbed "Abies" made up a part of the motley crowd that participated in the parade,” the San Jose Evening News reported on Thursday, Sept. 10, 1931.

Current owner Jack Minkel remembers the past at Twin Creeks. His hat asks “Where the hell is Twin Creeks?” In the background is Minkel’s son Bob, who is dislodging debris in the creek as it meanders through Twin Creeks.

Germano remembers when her brother, Al Perpoli raised the rent to $120 a year in the 1940s. He sent out a letter of apology with the increase. That was the way it was at Twin Creeks; people cared about one another.

Into each life some rain must fall
But it wasn’t all pleasure at Twin Creeks. There were heavy rains one year, submerging many of the cabins with 12 to 15 feet of water. The picnic area was reduced to only floating tables in the downpour. Fortunately everyone was able to evacuate out of harm’s way.

In the 1950s, second-generation retired firefighter and Twin Creeks current owner Jack Minkel’s Aunt Dorothy was murdered. She stopped near the Almaden Reservoir to help someone who had just killed someone else. Not wanting any witnesses, he killed her. Minkel said he believes the man is still in prison.

Generations
“We came every year for 40 years,” said Almaden resident Mickey Lepow. “Families rented the cabins for decades and it continued as a summer resort until the eighties. Many people from Twin Creeks married people who were residents and landowners in the Almaden area. There is quite a legacy from this small, wonderful resort. It was one of those places that unless you were raised here you don’t know what it is like. Everybody knew everybody. It was a wonderful, happy, safe time.”

Lepow, Germano, Arlene Reardon Freitas and Rita Gibson Freitas still meet four times a year. Their friendships remain solid from those special childhood times spent at Twin Creeks. The women remember swimming during the hot days of summer, catching crawdads and frogs when they hiked to the creek and exploring the abandoned mine town on the hill. Sometimes they walked into New Almaden and visited the fire station. Twin Creeks even had their own football team who would compete with New Almaden. And the women’s initials are still carved in the upstairs choir loft at St. Anthony’s Church.

In the evenings everyone went to the lodge over the creek. The adults would play cards, pinball or try their luck at a couple of slot machines. A cigarette machine sold packs for 18 cents each. Lepow remembers jitterbugging to the “Beer Belly Polka,” Glen Miller and Tommy Dorsey at Lovely Glen, the dance hall next to Twin Creeks. Sometimes they would go into “town” and visit Club Almaden.

Four men and cold beer equals a good time at Twin Creeks. Left: Charles Ferrier, two unidentified men and Mario Purpoli. Photo courtesy of Chuck Ferrier

“I remember riding bicycles to the old stand where 85 and Almaden Expressway is,” said Lepow. “It was a two-lane road. They had the sweetest strawberries. Then we’d go to Robertsville Station and have an ice cream cone.”

The current owner, Jack Minkel has a list of 24 people who met and married at Twin Creeks. He name is included, and he has been married to his wife for 53 years. They met when they were 9 years old. His family includes seven children and 22 grandkids who visit Twin Creeks just like he has for decades. Four of his offspring met at the resort and later married.

“The place was sold in the 1970s or 1980s,” said Germano. “At the time the rent was a $1,000 a year. I wish I had sat my parents down and written down all the correct information. My memory isn’t as good as it used to be but I still have treasured friends from then. I can’t go back there anymore. It tears me up too much”

Changing times
Through the mid 1980s to early 1990s, Twin Creeks had a questionable reputation. Those who loved it said there was a “bad element” and “drug use” was mentioned. Some say they were afraid to venture out to Twin Creeks during that time.

But since Minkel bought the resort in 1995, Twin Creeks has been enjoying a renaissance.

It is not a summer resort anymore, but housing to people who love the beauty and peacefulness of the area. A recent two-bedroom cabin rental was going for $1,000 a month. A far cry from the $100 yearly rental paid decades ago. Prices have changed but not the tranquil environment for residents who live in one of the 40 cabins.

“People come up here and say they didn’t know a place like this existed,” said Minkel. “But once they’re here, they don’t want to leave.”

Copyright 2006 Jeanne Carbone Lewis