MAIN STREET, RIO VISTA

 Looking down Main Street from Second Street

After the flood of 1862 had washed away the first attempt at establishing Rio Vista, a small group of determined survivors approached a wealthy landowner, Joseph Bruning, to solicit land on which to rebuild the town. About three miles downriver from the original settlement Bruning had purchased a sizable chunk of the Montezuma Hills, the high ground stretching from the Sacramento River to the southwest.  He was a remarkably charitable chap who not only donated land to rebuild Rio Vista, but continued to support the community.  Another wealthy landowner, whose ranch bordered Bruning’s on the south, T.J. McWorthy, also contributed land.  The surveyed border between the two properties became Rio Vista’s Main Street.

Walking down Main Street, we have, as the town’s name promises, a view of the river.  We also have the local businesses that in their idiosyncratic ways are quite sufficient for our ordinary needs: a pharmacy, a veterinarian, a travel agency, two local banks (I count the Bank of Stockton as such in addition to the Rio Vista Bank), real estate agencies, a book store, Hap’s Bait Shop, several restaurants (Italian, Chinese, Mexican, the Pizza Factory, and of course Foster’s Bighorn a local landmark) a bakery, a grocery and meat market, a pet store.  At the end of Main Street, by the river, is the City Hall.  In front of City Hall is a memorial stone honoring the wayward whale that brought Rio Vista to national prominence in 1985 for 15 minutes of fame.

 Official Rio Vista memorial for a visiting whale

Rio Vista’s Main Street evokes my memories of Springville, Iowa.  There is the same feel to a stroll here.  I was quite young during the months—I don’t know how many—that I actually lived in Springville with my mother, who had returned to my grandmother’s large Victorian house on the occasion of a separation from my father.  It was about 1937, the heart of the Great Depression, and while it was undoubtedly a difficult time for my parents, I remember it as a time of great adventure.

We had been living in Duluth, Minnesota, but were not prospering.  My father decided to return to the family farm near Winterset, Iowa to help his mother run the place, and so we did.  Briefly.  My grandmothers were both domineering women, as for that matter was my mother.  At any rate, my mother did not last long on the farm and decamped with me to her childhood home in Springville.  I suppose many children would have been upset by the emotional turmoil and moving about, but I have always had a great appetite for uproar, and particularly for travel.  My first word was recorded as being, “Bye bye.”

At three years old I had experienced the big city: apartment living, busy traffic, large brick buildings, anonymous strangers on buses and passing on the sidewalks.  And I had been on the farm and helped feed the chickens, watched the cows being milked and even got a squirt of milk directly into my mouth.  And then I was in Springville where the most exciting thing to do was walk uptown.  I don’t know why it was called “uptown” there instead of “downtown.” 

But Main Street (if that was its name) in Springville had the same feel to it that Main Street in Rio Vista has.  It is like a slow steady heart beat, the living center of a community.  There is no heavy traffic, no bustle and hurry, but it is alive.  The people greet each other as they pass, frequently stop for a word or two.  Amber is a great help in this regard as she provides us with a topic for brief conversations.  And Main Street in both towns is the gathering place during holiday festivities, the 4^th of July band concert, years and years ago in Springville, the Memorial Day Soapbox Derby Races this year in Rio Vista.  It is where the community celebrates itself as a community, a particular unique entity.  These small towns have much in common, but part of that is being entirely themselves and not a copy of somewhere else.

2011 Memorial Day Soapbox Derby, Main Street, Rio Vista