When our family vacationed here in the late 50's South Shore was a much different place. The casinos were all one or two story, Heavenly Valley was still a small ski resort, and the only movie theater in town was a Quonset hut with wooden benches and a dirt floor up by Stateline. In the summers there were good sized crowds at the beaches and at the casinos but come winter time many motels and restaurants would close for the season; it was that slow.
In 1962 we became full time residents and South Shore was under a big transformation for the next several years. Now there were hydroplane races held on the lake every summer. Big, fast boats powered by twelve cylinder Rolls Royce or Allison aircraft engines. These boats were real cool looking and really loud. Miss Budweiser, Miss Harrah's, Miss Bardahl, to name a few. I could hear them all the way from Bijou Elementary as they practiced. Heavenly Valley began construction of the tram, which is where I worked after graduating from high school. The casinos started expanding out and up. Harvey's was the first to build a hotel tower. Okay, it was only ten stories but it seemed like a big deal at the time. Homes were being built everywhere. If you had a dirt bike you could ride on the miles and miles of trails that ran through the woods. The city had not been incorporated yet so there were very little if any regulations like there are now. With all this rampant development and activities there were a lot of mistakes made and a lot of irreparable damage done. The dredging of the wetlands to build Tahoe Keys comes to mind.
Which brings me to the dredging of Ski Run Marina. When they cut the channel to get to the lake, the beach was cut in half. The beaches were connected by a wooden bridge. You walked up a flight of stairs and across a walkway and then down another set of stairs to the other side. The walkway was about 25 feet above the channel so the boats could come and go and the beach goers had access to both beaches.
Now the main beach where the rental office, the concession stand, and the pinball machines were (the last two being where all my measly pay wound up), was considered the "family" beach. Once you crossed the bridge over to the other side you were at the infamous (drum roll, please), "Beer Can Beach"!!!
This place had quite a reputation. The college kids came in droves to drink and go wild. It earned the name from all the empty beer cans and wine bottles left in the sand. As more and more partyin' young kids showed up each week, they kept moving down the beach to make room for more. Pretty soon the crowd grew so big they were on a private beach that belonged to Lakeland Village. The owners of this resort didn't like all these half-naked, drunk young college kids in bikinis and Bermuda shorts rampaging on their private property. Lakeland Village was a quiet resort that mostly catered to a more sedate crowd. It was a heavily forested area with about 20 little cabins connected by a meandering one-lane road. It's where my folks honeymooned in '53. At first they tried security guards to get the kids to leave but they were vastly out numbered. So one day they put up a 6 foot high cyclone fence that went from the waters edge following their property line all the way back to where the marina's boat ramp was.
This action did not set well with the crowd which was growing in numbers daily at Beer Can Beach. Now, I wouldn't call it a riot but there was definitely some anger in the crowd and lots of drinking. Just like when I saw The Kingsmen playing "Louie Louie" on the "family" beach earlier that summer, my boss once again tracked me down and sent me home.
The next morning I show up for work and start cleaning the "family" beach first. I notice the cyclone fence is gone. I walked over there and there are lots of tire tracks in the sand. I walk over to the main channel to the lake and there's all the fence in a couple of big rolls, sitting at the bottom in 15 feet of water. Someone had used a truck or a jeep, pulled up the fence, and rolled it into the water-way.
The old security guard, asleep in the office, never woke up during this whole thing. They got rid of him and hired someone to watch the place all night. They winched up the fence out of the water and re-installed it. Finally, after a couple of years, things calmed down and the crazy college kids found other places to party.
So farewell, Beer Can Beach. I'm sure there are lots of people, 10 or 12 years older than me, who still remember their wild times there. And maybe, just maybe, they remember that skinny little kid with the tan who was always hangin' around, eyes buggin' out from what he saw and experienced.
Bob
