LOS ANGELES COUNTY HAS a new oceanfront park in the San Pedro area, and it's much more than just another place to play along the shore, dive, surf, or sit by the ocean. It's a unique spot with a multi-layered history that few people know--a story that sheds light on some neglected corners of California's past.
You might miss this story if you visit the White Point/Royal Palms Shoreline Complex only casually. You might drive in from Paseo del Mar, walk to the edge of the 100-foot bluff, and be transfixed by the glittering ocean, Santa Catalina Island in the distance, sailboats and surfers below. Should you look down you would see, directly beneath you, a shelf of shore curving west from a rocky point, a reef, and some large trees to the west, at the foot of the bluff.
Perhaps you would get no further. The blufftop offers palm-shaded picnic tables, a bright new children's play area, and a restroom housed in what may be the most elegant restroom building constructed since the days of the Works Progress Administration in the 1930s. But should your eyes land on the bronze plaques installed on the grounds, or should you glimpse the old photographs mounted in a glass case, you would almost certainly want to take the road down to the shore. Then you would discover, to your left, the site of the White Point Hot Spring Hotel, a spa that was highly popular in the 1920s and '30s, especially with the local Japanese-American community. To your right you would come upon a grand terrazzo dance floor, huge stone fireplaces, and beautifully crafted stone benches shaded by palms and old pepper trees, all carefully restored. These are remnants of the Royal Palms Recreation Center, developed by Ramón Sepúlveda.
On June 5, 1997, a select crowd came together on the blufftop to dedicate the new park complex. Taking turns at the podium were dignitaries from the four levels of government and several agencies that worked to make this new park possible, and staff from the Department of Beaches and Harbors, which built it with $2 million in bond funds. They said their words with rightful pride.
Sitting in folding chairs among the invited guests was a cluster of Japanese-Americans who had known the place intimately more than 50 years ago or had heard tales about it from elders. To them a special welcome was extended by County Supervisor Don Knabe. They included descendants of the Tagami family, who built and operated the spa in partnership with the landowner, Ramón Sepúlveda.
Many Japanese-Americans clustered around the display of old photographs, some from their own family albums. George Ishibashi, 83, who was born nearby and still farms in Gardena, pointed to the sulfur-spring pool he used to bathe in on his way home from school. "I grew up just west of here," he told a reporter. "That's where my dad farmed. We used to stop at the springs on the way home from school. There was a restaurant. The [saltwater] swimming pool was built later, and then we swam before walking home."
Hiro Odaka recalled that his family used to come here from Fresno in the 1920s, and that he drank the "rotten-egg water" of the sulfur spring. His folks later started Frank's Chop Suey, across from the city hall in San Pedro. Another man noticed the sepia portrait of an abalone fisherman and recognized him as Kobei Tatsumi, father of Yukio Tatsumi, who was present.
"We came in 1910," said Jim Tagami. "My grandfather Tojuro Tagami and his brother Tamiji developed the place. They blasted roads, dug out the sulfur hot spring. It was a favorite place for Japanese-Americans to come for picnics. When you mention White Point to older Japanese-Americans, they know it."
The Tagamis were not the first Japanese immigrants to discover the bounties and delights of White Point. Around 1898, twelve young fishermen arrived from the small town of Los Angeles and discovered the abundance of lobster and abalone to be had on the reef. Sepúlveda built housing for them on the shore, and they soon were harvesting two tons of abalone a day. In 1906, with stocks being rapidly depleted, the state legislature restricted the take and the operation folded. Contributing to its demise was fear of the "Yellow Peril," fueled by Randolph Hearst in the Los Angeles Examiner.
The Tagamis, who farmed at West Adams Street in Los Angeles, were attracted to White Point by the healing qualities of the spring. Tamiji suffered so severely from arthritis that he had to be carried down the bluff, said Kay (Tagami) Sato, his daughter. After several weeks of immersion in the hot water from the ocean, he recovered and was again able to work. So they built a bathhouse, and went on to build a saltwater swimming pool, cabins, a restaurant, and a hotel. The next generation of Tagamis continued to operate the spa. "There was a pier, and they used to take people out in speedboats to a fishing barge," said Jim Tagami. Spanish mackerel, bass, and jack smelt were plentiful. The Tagamis also trapped lobsters and, for their own table, dove for abalone.

The White Point/Royal Palms Shoreline Complex is open sunrise to sunset. There's a $2 charge to park on the bluff. To park below costs $6 between Memorial Day weekend and September 18, $5 during the rest of the year. Senior citizens park at no charge weekdays. To inquire about permits for special events, call Lynn Atkinson, 310-305-9565, at the Los Angeles County Department of Beaches and Harbors.