Nora Sawyer/Sausalito Historical Society
Sausalito is a dog town. Sure, Al Sybrian’s sea lion might make a more iconic mascot, and residents may dote on their pet cats, rabbits, snakes, or budgies as much as any canine companion, but in public life, dogs reign supreme.
After all, aren’t returning residents and visitors alike welcomed off the ferry by a public drinking fountain that invites them to “Have a drink on Sally,” while their four-legged friends enjoy “a drink on Leland” from the lower basin? Don’t many restaurants offer dog-friendly sidewalk dining, and many stores put out dishes of water to passing dogs? And don’t forget the local businesses that keep treats behind the counter for canine clientele – my dog Tiggy certainly never does.
In a 1930 Sausalito News article, reporter Mabel Eastman observed that “to most of us, the dogs of Sausalito are real people.” This is evident in our local papers, where the exploits of Sausalito’s dog population often run alongside human activity on the society pages. In 1907, a “thousand dollar Sausalito dog” made its way onto the ferryboat Cazadero and took a solo trip to San Francisco. An Irish Setter went on a similar adventure in 1937, disappearing from its home at 200 San Carlos avenue, only to be found wandering Golden Gate Park. In 1930, a dog served as “a valuable witness” in a court case, winning loud applause when the case was decided in his owner’s favor. In 1948, the Sausalito News reported that Charley Hiatt, “well-known retired Sausalito railroader,” had trained his dog “a tiny purp [sic] of doubtful background,” to pull a small two-wheeled cart while carrying a cigarette holder between its teeth.
Our papers even mark the passing of prominent canine citizens — on April 7, 1987, an obituary ran in the Sausalito MarinScope for Yash, a 16-year-old dog who had been the first to officially “Have a drink on Leland” following the dedication of Sally Stanford’s memorial fountain in 1985.
Restaurateur, retired madame, and vice mayor-for-life, Sally Stanford is a fitting embodiment of Sausalito’s dog-friendly spirit. Her affinity for dogs is evident in former Valhalla bartender Steve Boisson’s recollection of their first encounter:
Just as I was busy enough flailing ice and spilling liquor to not worry about meeting Miss Stanford, the door flew open and in rushed a panting pit bull wearing a sparkling necklace who rambunctiously traversed through the cocktail lounge like a lost passenger at an airline terminal. She found a place to nestle soon enough, on the lap of a gentleman seated on an antique sofa, and she repaid his hospitality with a series of soggy yet soulful licks on the cheek.
“Her name’s Pitiful Pearl, but you can call her P.P.,” said a deep-voiced, small boned elderly lady who had followed the dog into the restaurant “She loves men.”
“I love animals,” Stanford told Boisson. “When you’ve been around people all your life you tend to center towards animals.”
On the other side of town, Juanita Musson’s restaurant on Gate Five Road was famously friendly toward dogs, as well as goats, chickens, cats, a monkey, and even an orphaned fawn. Sally Hayton-Keeva’s book Juanita!: the madcap adventurers of a legendary restauranteur, includes the following reminiscence from Roman “Bert” Balladine, the “world’s foremost male belly dance instructor and choreographer:”
Juanita had a restaurant in an old decaying ferryboat that was the only place where you could bring your dog to eat too. . . I used to think the only reason I got to eat at Juanita’s was because I brought my dog with me, since she always gave him more food than she gave me. And served him much more graciously.
Though they both may have preferred the company of canines over people, Stanford and Musson demonstrate how dogs can encourage human connection, introducing us to strangers and fostering the more gracious aspects of our nature. Dogs encourage us to be better citizens, to clean up after ourselves (please), and take the time to get to know our town and our neighbors.
Cynthia Roby, writing for the MarinScope in 1976, noted that Sausalito’s dog population, like its human citizenry, defies stereotypes, ranging from “well-fed, well-fenced, well-groomed household pets whose idea of the open spaces is a turn or two around a condominium deck,” to dogs that “hang loose around town… lunching on an abandoned round of Mr. Salt’s Fish ‘n Chips and sacking out when the day is done wherever the reception is the warmest.”
There’s no recipe for a perfect community. But one thing I’ve noticed about dogs is that the well fed and well fenced are just as likely to get along with the scruffy “hang loose” dogs as they are their own kind, and a shared smile over a frolicking pair of puppies can soften the attitude of even the unfriendliest grouch. At their best, dogs draw us out of our homes, and out of ourselves, encouraging us to engage with the world around us and the other creatures in it. So treat your neighbors as you would a friendly pooch: with kindness, free water, and good will. This is a dog town.
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