Bats and the Sunset

I’ve known my neighbor, Carol Tanner, for as long as I can remember. She worked at the local library for more than three decades and still lives in a cozy beach cottage with ocean-facing windows, the kind of home you don’t see much anymore. Until recently, I had no idea how much she had done for the city.

Now 90, Carol is one of those behind-the-scenes locals who quietly shaped the way this city looks and feels. She helped design Hermosa’s original city logo, the one she affectionately calls “bats and the sunset.” You can still spot it on wayfinding signs, the Little League emblem and street signs. 

In the late 1960s, Carol and her best friend, fellow artist Joanne Purpus were appointed to the Hermosa Improvement Commission. “They asked us to come up with a new logo,” Carol said. “The old white-and-black street signs were rusted out. We thought, let’s make something beautiful, something just for us.”

They chose the colors, seal brown and sunset gold, and Carol, an art major, lettered the Gothic-style script. The city approved it on the spot. “They didn’t care, they just wanted it done,” she said, laughing. “And we did it all for free.” 

The commission tackled everything from Pacific Coast Highway improvements to bus bench design. “We didn’t like the benches with ads all over them,” she said. “We replaced them with simple wooden planks on brick bases. People complained they couldn’t lean back. But come on, how long are you really waiting for a bus?” 

The Commission didn’t stop there. They cleaned up Pacific Coast Highway, replacing the clutter of neon flags and garish ads with the kind of low-key charm that defined Hermosa.

 Carol and Joanne also launched the first arts and crafts festival in the city, an event that evolved into Fiesta Hermosa, one of the largest arts and crafts festivals in Southern California. “We just wanted to publicize the city,” she said. “We invited local artists, potters, and craftspeople. No booth fees. We marked off spaces on Pier Avenue, closed the street, and the city said ‘okay.’ It was that simple.”

One of their most dramatic moments came when they helped save Hermosa’s old Vetter windmill from demolition. Built in the early 1900s by German immigrant Hermann Vetter to irrigate his flower farm at 16th and Ardmore, the wooden structure had become a familiar landmark from Hermosa’s agricultural days. When the land was sold to a developer, Carol helped rally residents to organize a move. The community effort paid off. The windmill was dismantled and relocated to its current site at PCH and Aviation Boulevard. “Most of the town came out to watch,” she said of the move. “It was a big thing. I even got a food truck to come.”

When asked what makes Hermosa special, she didn’t hesitate. “The beach,” she said. “It was wonderful to go down there, weekdays or weekends. The beach is it.”

Her home still looks much like it did in the 1950s, a small fireplace, artwork gracing the walls, and plenty of sunlight. It’s a reminder of what this town once was: creative, scrappy, a little rough around the edges. 

Even though Carol may not see herself as a city builder, her fingerprints are everywhere.  Hermosa was shaped by residents like her who cared enough to make things better, one bench, one logo, one idea at a time. 

Are there any Carol Tanners on your street? The residents who show up, pitch in, and help keep our community strong? And what can we do to support that spirit as we look ahead? I’d love to hear from you.  Email me at elka@elkaforhermosa.com