Del Mar Ca

This pretty beach town is just north of San Diego, so a Del Mar weekend could ostensibly include zoos, nightclubs and trained whales. But, once in the "People's Republic of Del Mar," a two-mile municipality that has vigorously fought off incorporation and maintained its independence, this thought emerges: "Once you've found perfection why bother to venture farther?" Del Mar looks perfect. Even the post office has a riotous garden worthy of a Sunset magazine cover.

Beginnings The community was founded in 1885 by Jacob Taylor, whom the local historical society describes as "a dynamic visionary who pictured Del Mar as a seaside resort for the rich and famous." The centerpiece of Taylor's vision was his Casa del Mar hotel-resort -- which burned to the ground five years after it was built, prompting him to leave Del Mar and never return.

Residents of this seaside town are pressing the City Council to restrict the size of homes in order to stop a trend of super-sizing that they say threatens to destroy the local character. Current rules allow a home to be as large as the land it sits on. Some property owners have taking to buying adjacent lots, tearing down the structure and building new homes that are twice the size of their neighbors.

At an antiques fair, there are those who pound their chest after scoring a magnificent find. And there are those who gnash their teeth when junk they gave to Goodwill shows up on some dealer's shelf, spruced and polished, with a price tag that triggers groans of disbelief. "Do you remember when we had one of those?" I once said to my sister, pointing to a Patsy Ann doll that my family gave away when I was 10. "If we'd kept it, it would be worth $300."

Residents of this seaside town are pressing the City Council to restrict the size of homes in order to stop a trend of super-sizing that they say threatens to destroy the local character. Current rules allow a home to be as large as the land it sits on. Some property owners have taking to buying adjacent lots, tearing down the structure and building new homes that are twice the size of their neighbors.

Some things change in life. And, happily, some things don't. Take the Del Mar Motel. Built in 1946, this bit of motel Americana is as unchanged by the passage of time, tides and trends as its cinder-block soul. Or so it would seem to the casual passerby, which is all I was last winter during an extended and entirely unintentional detour off Interstate 5 north of San Diego.

Beginnings The community was founded in 1885 by Jacob Taylor, whom the local historical society describes as "a dynamic visionary who pictured Del Mar as a seaside resort for the rich and famous." The centerpiece of Taylor's vision was his Casa del Mar hotel-resort -- which burned to the ground five years after it was built, prompting him to leave Del Mar and never return.

The price of progress is being paid by this beach community with its spreading shade trees, fashionable shops and reputation for gracious living. And the locals of Del Mar do not like it. The unlikely agent of unwelcome change is the Coaster, the commuter train between Oceanside and San Diego that made its long-awaited debut two weeks ago, and left Del Mar without train service.

Bowing to complaints from mental health workers and patients, fairgrounds officials have removed the "insane asylum" portion of the Scream Zone haunted house. Del Mar Fairgrounds spokesman Steve Fiebing said he received about two dozen phone calls and e-mails from people who said the psychotic patient character in the annual Halloween display was demeaning and offensive.

Bowing to complaints from mental health workers and patients, fairgrounds officials have removed the "insane asylum" portion of the Scream Zone haunted house. Del Mar Fairgrounds spokesman Steve Fiebing said he received about two dozen phone calls and e-mails from people who said the psychotic patient character in the annual Halloween display was demeaning and offensive.

At an antiques fair, there are those who pound their chest after scoring a magnificent find. And there are those who gnash their teeth when junk they gave to Goodwill shows up on some dealer's shelf, spruced and polished, with a price tag that triggers groans of disbelief. "Do you remember when we had one of those?" I once said to my sister, pointing to a Patsy Ann doll that my family gave away when I was 10. "If we'd kept it, it would be worth $300."

The Del Mar Wall goes up only one day a year. But the annoyance caused to neighboring Solana Beach lasts a lot longer. Every Fourth of July the city of Del Mar blocks off a portion of the county's coastal highway to all but local residents.

This pretty beach town is just north of San Diego, so a Del Mar weekend could ostensibly include zoos, nightclubs and trained whales. But, once in the "People's Republic of Del Mar," a two-mile municipality that has vigorously fought off incorporation and maintained its independence, this thought emerges: "Once you've found perfection why bother to venture farther?" Del Mar looks perfect. Even the post office has a riotous garden worthy of a Sunset magazine cover.

Summer again and time for Del Mar, the quaint horse racing emporium by the sea 17 miles north of San Diego and a couple of hours by train or freeway from downtown L.A. But why go there, when you could be basking on some beach nearer to home or lounging in your backyard with the latest Grisham propped up on your lap, or, if you want to go racing, watching the horses cavort on a TV screen somewhere?

Summer again and time for Del Mar, the quaint horse racing emporium by the sea 17 miles north of San Diego and a couple of hours by train or freeway from downtown L.A. But why go there, when you could be basking on some beach nearer to home or lounging in your backyard with the latest Grisham propped up on your lap, or, if you want to go racing, watching the horses cavort on a TV screen somewhere?

The Del Mar Wall goes up only one day a year. But the annoyance caused to neighboring Solana Beach lasts a lot longer. Every Fourth of July the city of Del Mar blocks off a portion of the county's coastal highway to all but local residents.

Some things change in life. And, happily, some things don't. Take the Del Mar Motel. Built in 1946, this bit of motel Americana is as unchanged by the passage of time, tides and trends as its cinder-block soul. Or so it would seem to the casual passerby, which is all I was last winter during an extended and entirely unintentional detour off Interstate 5 north of San Diego.

The price of progress is being paid by this beach community with its spreading shade trees, fashionable shops and reputation for gracious living. And the locals of Del Mar do not like it. The unlikely agent of unwelcome change is the Coaster, the commuter train between Oceanside and San Diego that made its long-awaited debut two weeks ago, and left Del Mar without train service.