Walnut Creek’s past lives in the muscle memory of the people who cruised Main, grabbed Mt. Diablo–sized sundaes, and watched the Walnut Festival parade roll down Broadway. When Nelson F. asked who remembered the golden years, the stories poured in — snapshots from a small town on the cusp of big change.
Cruising Main, Festival Nights, and the El Rey glow
For many, weekend plans were simple: gas up, head downtown, and join the slow parade of chrome along Main Street. Perry P. remembered “cruising main street,” dipping to “the creek when it wasn’t a concrete lined channel,” and catching the original Walnut Festival in Civic Park.
John D. added the El Rey Theatre, “the magic strip” of pinball, and Pinky’s Pizza near California and Newell — plus a callout to old classmates from Los Lomas and Del Valle. Jill C. remembered the parade itself — “really cool cars” and marching bands filling Broadway with sound.
When Broadway Plaza had Capwell’s — and custard downstairs
Before today’s brands, it was Capwell’s and Joseph Magnin. Adena V. still thinks of the cafeteria-style spot in the basement and the smooth, cold custard, while Dorothy H. said she misses “Capwell’s and Joseph Magnin” outright. Inside Capwell’s, kids rode the escalators just for the thrill, Tim O. said, and Birdie’s Toy Store was part of an everyday downtown orbit that also included the Army-Navy store and floods that turned Main Street into a spectacle.
Ice cream capitals: Lippert’s, the Greyhound counter, and a sundae named for a mountain
Ask anyone about treats and two places leap out. Bill C. pointed to Lippert’s — “an ice cream dish called the Mt Diablo,” huge and glorious. Molly M. took it further: birthday parties where waiters with handlebar moustaches delivered a Mt. Diablo Extravaganza — scoops piled high with whipped cream “snow,” tiny trees, and sparklers. Saundra A. and Jim W. swore by ice cream at the Greyhound Station at Civic and Main; Carol P. pinpointed it — tickets sold at Lommel’s Creamery while buses pulled into the lot.
Pinky’s, Hokey’s, Munich (or Viennese) Sausage, and liquid lunches
The food roll call never stops. Pinky’s was worth the drive from Antioch, Linnea L. said. Hokey’s Burgers fueled Saturdays after miniature golf by the roller rink, Robert S. remembered, along with “liquid lunches” at Stan’s Brick House. Richard M. recalled a German deli on Locust — “Munich Sausage Varieties,” which Christina P. thinks folks remember as the Viennese Sausage Shop run by her mom. Up the street: Newell House of Prime Rib, the Copper Penny, Brittany Inn, and Walnut Bowl, Lonna L. said.
Library days — from an old house to something new
Steve D. loved the old library — a house-turned-book-haven tucked by the Contra Costa Times. Functional as the new library was, he said, it couldn’t match the charm. The city’s growing up was literal: Ronald C. said the tallest building downtown was Pete Stark’s, across from Kaiser.
Simon’s Hardware (and the aisle of porcelain thrones)
“Simon’s Hardware!” wrote Dee J. And then Molly M. painted the memory everyone can see — staff unlocking the restroom while kids “walked past rows and rows of unusable display toilets” to reach the one that worked. Kelloways on the hill was the everyday fix-it stop — open “364 days a year,” Tracy W. said.
When Ygnacio was quiet — orchards, canneries, and stockyards
Before the corridor was a commute, Mark L. and Lauren I. remembered orchards lining Ygnacio Valley Road and a Gemco at Ygnacio and Main — after White Front, before Target. Marcia M. and Dorothy H. remembered when today’s Target sat on the Walnut Creek Cannery site. Ronald C. noted the stockyard smell out on Ygnacio; Nina D. wondered if it was the slaughterhouse or the sulfur spring. Either way, there weren’t traffic jams — not then.
Teen clubs, pinball, and Rocky Horror at midnight
There was a teen night spot on Mt. Diablo — the Happy Valley Inn — where Russ B. said he saw Sonny & Cher before they hit big, and learned to “swim” to Bobby Freeman. Tracy W. and Linnea L. both remembered midnight “Rocky Horror Picture Show” viewings, the kind of rite you plan your weekend around.
Highway 24 opens — and people rode in on history
The opening of the Highway 24 interchange felt like a moon landing for an East Bay town. Liz S. rode in a restored classic car for the ceremony — maybe a Model T or Model A belonging to neighbor Herb Huber — a front-row seat to an era when Walnut Creek’s horizons widened overnight.
Co-Op’s Kiddie Corral — sparks and pet rats
In the 70s, the Co-Op grocery offered a novelty that sounds half myth and half magic. Molly M. remembered childcare in-store — a wind-up Godzilla that “breathed fire” via sparks and even rats you could pet. Ann M. called it by name — “The Kiddie Corral” — and still remembers the family’s membership number and the pantry boxes of powdered milk.
Car lots, liquid lunches, and five-dollar feasts
Walnut Creek’s car culture wasn’t only on Main. Robert S. said his grandfather ran Rett White Ford; Saturdays might include being paraded before “car dealer buddies,” then miniature golf, burgers, fries, and a shake at Hokey’s “for less than probably $5.” Decades later, he’s still in the same family home — proof, he says, that some golden years never end.
A small town feeling — and how the memory lingers
Dennis W. moved to town in the 50s, when population sat just over 7,000. Bill F. arrived from San Francisco 50 years ago and found a place where you could leave a car window down all night and nothing would go missing — “a different world.” Even as folks debate noise, growth, and change, the old Walnut Creek remains vivid: Lupoi’s Market on Broadway, the Army-Navy store, Gay 90’s Pizza, Safeway at Newell and Main, Birdie’s Toy Store, Mel’s Drive-In, and the El Rey’s glowing marquee.
Your turn
Got a memory of Walnut Creek from the 60s or 70s — a favorite storefront scent, a parade float that wowed you, a place you wish you could visit one more time? Send it in to tom@bayareatelegraph.com or share it in this discussion on our Facebook page.
If you have any photos of anything shown here, snap a picture on your phone and email it to tom@bayareatelegraph.com or post on Facebook, too.
