A court ruling before Christmas has brought peace to this seaside wonderment. It’s the home of Bill Gross (once prominent in PIMCO) and his partner who live on a suitably sized spread, and in all corners like to hear the theme music to Gilligan’s Island over and over and over again, again, again, again, ….etc. Neighbors sued to stop the culture which Bill Gross and his mate were trying to foist on Laguna Beach. The neighbors won.

Laguna Beach is a playground without much of a beach. Most of the sporting activities happen down in the sand. But surfing, body and board [not broad], is like trying to catch a wave in Balboa Bay. Go to beaches north and south. Warren Buffet had a house there but sold. No one ever caught Warren out and about in swim trunks.

Laguna is a tony, swank place with a long-lasting art festival, the sort of event that attracts the Howells: Rich, vacuous, vapid elders who have a chauffeur, or they pay for valet parking so they can walk to close-by booths and shops. Southern Californians of artistic persuasions have second homes there. Laguna is a jumping place. A habitué told about life there of easy expression, mostly ceramic frogs, each signed and dated. Twenty-five dollars ($25) was a lot of money back then, and on eBay that frog now goes for ten. Life has always been a gamble. Who knew that pet rocks would have greater values?

During the Sixties and Seventies TV reception was poor in Laguna. I understand why people pine for Greenacres. But cable changed everything. Gilligan’s Island? That show was straight and square: Gilligan too foolish and stupid to love; blustering captain; aloof Howells; the professor extra stupid so joined a tour boat with a crowd of morons; Ginger, too innocent to be conniving; Tina Louise, type-cast in a short show. Even when cannibals showed up, nobody on the island got eaten. And one thinks of the missed dialogue. On The Beverly Hillbillies Jed Clampett described a bird near the cement pond as a “blonde feathered bush tit.” 

Obviously, if anyone in Laguna Beach believes Gilligan’s Island reflects the values and manners of that seaside spot, that comment helps homes slide down the cliffs onto the beach to be eroded into the Pacific Ocean. That show needs to be brought up to date. With a captain like Bill Gross and his matey, who might be Ginger or Mrs. Howell, much has to happen to save that place. Laguna isn’t a community of romance. In the show Mary Ann seemed suited to the professor but they never got it going. Mr. Howell was a complete dolt; he could take lessons from our current President and make Tina a handy target. That leaves the Captain and his “little buddy,” Gilligan, life long sailors. Wasn’t it Winston Churchill who observed, Buggery is what makes the Royal Navy work?

The problem with Gilligan’s Island (the moral to this piece) is, the island and its inhabitants reflect a setting and people who never existed and a place and time that will never happen. This situation redounds on Bill Gross and his matey. It was utterly correct to turn off Bill Gross’s efforts to cultivate and enlighten Laguna Beach.