Tales from the Lake
Created as a reservoir to provide irrigation for the orchards and alfalfa fields of the Palo Alto Stock Farm, Lake Lagunita was a part of the Stanford landscape even before the University was founded. From the Pioneer Class to the present day, Lake Lag has always been a focal point of student life. In its heyday, the lake hosted cherished campus traditions such as the Water Carnival (starting in the 1900s and later revived as Hydro/Aqua Follies) and the Big Game bonfire. Now dry most of the time, and never full, its shores continue to provide a venue for recreation, relaxation and reflection—not to mention a backdrop for countless romances. As Bernarr Bates (see below) mused "To write a history of Lagunita with all of its attendant legend, fable and tradition would be to write a history of the extracurricular life of the University."
Lagunita! The very mention of the name will
bring back a train of memories to every son and daughter of the Stanford
Red. Across its calm surface has rippled mirth; its murky depths have
mutely held their tragedies; and, with every passing year, every passing
class, it has passed with them into history.
My motivation for learning to windsurf on Lake Lag was to not fall and
get leeches on my feet!
One day in early spring 1946, races were held at Lake Lag. As an
overzealous freshman, I signed my name on the list labeled canoe
gunneling. To gunnel a canoe, one must stand on the rails at the stern end
of the canoe with knees bending up and down, and arms pumping forward and
back, as the canoe lurches forward. The day of the race I saw my
formidable opponent: a tall, well-built phys. ed. major. All went well as
I kept the pace for the first 3/4 of the distance, at which time my legs
gave out and I was painfully left behind. I learned that at Stanford you
couldn't be just capable, you had to be the best.
Courtesy 1969 Stanford Quad
One of the things that I remember is a song that we used to sing called
"Stanford in Spring." It went as follows: "When the moon's on Lagunita,
and it's quiet on the Quad, when your heart sings a song, as you stroll
along, that's Stanford in spring."
Peter remembers sunbathing at the lake and watching the pretty girls.
We both remember the fun Big Game bonfires. We only had two, as I recall,
since there was no football team after the men went into the service. WWII
broke out the semester we started.
I loved Hydro Follies in the spring! Favorite memories are a very
exuberant water-balloon fight our senior year and watching the ill-fated
Phi Kap milk-carton boat struggle to stay afloat.
I was in an aerobics class at the gym near Lake Lag when Loma Prieta
hit in 1989. Of course, we didn't know what was happening—it sounded
like elephants were jumping on the ceiling above us. Alarmed, we ran out
of the building onto the lakeshore. The whole lake was moving up and down,
back and forth, in one piece, not as waves. It was beautiful and scary all
at once.
Service (top); L.A. Cicero/ Stanford News Service
One of the most treasured memories of my first quarter at Stanford was
huddling in Lake Lag's dry basin with 14 of my dormmates (and now closest
friends) and taking in a 1 a.m. meteor shower. Incredible!
In the spring of 1951, when I was Student Manager (which was then the
Business Manager job of the ASSU) I appropriated funds to dump a truckload
of sand on the south side of the boathouse. Thus was created a real beach
for the sunners and swimmers to enjoy. It was dubbed "Elliott Beach" by a
few of us, but the name soon faded away with the sand, which disappeared
with the annual rise and fall of the lake.
1970: My red-haired beau, scarf around his neck, picking me up at
Lagunita for a quick ride around the Lake Lag path on his motorcycle in
the dark.
Swimming across the lake in January. Brr. Not for the faint of heart,
but kind of awesome.
I got tired of the riding arena at the Stanford barn and took a friend
to Lake Lag to ride his horse, Apple, during the fall of '98: A dry lake
bed makes a great arena.
January 1956: Several of us cut loose one of the marine life rafts next
to the boathouse, put an MG-TF roadster on it, and pushed it into the
middle of the lake. They never did figure out how we did it and had a hell
of a time getting it off. That was my first step toward a career as an
underwater archaeologist.
