
photo © 2007 kelly castro
So... I'm on my cruiser on the way back from the beach last Saturday morning when all of a sudden I come across these ruins that look like a set from Land Of The Lost. There they stood, smack-dab in the middle of my otherwise nondescript residential neighborhood, so I had to check myself, wondering if maybe I had absorbed through my feet a whole page of blotter acid that some dirty hippy had dropped in the sand.
I stopped and reached for my new point & shoot. A skinny, sunburnt man in a wifebeater with a john waters moustache and greased-back, jet black hair approached on the sidewalk, carrying two bags of groceries from the Safeway down the street. He looked straight out of an FSA photo. I figured I'd ask him if he knew anything about the place, but he darted into the yard before I could say anything. He kept looking over his shoulder at me, like I was gonna out him for squatting, then disappeared into a crappy camper hidden behind all the brick and dried palm.
I snapped this shot and got back on my bike. Further down a sidestreet, I asked an old surfer who was kickin' it in his front yard if he could tell me what the deal was with the place. He said it was an estate that belonged to some rich guy that had croaked without any heirs, and had set-up a trust fund to pay the property taxes in perpituity. Apparently the place has just been sitting there, rotting away for years and years.
After getting my Google on, I learned that the old surfer was full of it, and that the real story was far, far weirder. Known as "The Court of The Mysteries" or "The Unorthadox Chapel", the place was built in the 1930's by a guy named Kenneth Kitchen, who raised goats, practiced a lot of yoga and was a pretty shredding brick mason. The triangular abalone plaque at the center of the entry arch actually has no religious significance whatsoever - but Kitchen wanted it to look that way so that he could declare the place a church of some sort and get out of paying taxes. He was later hauled off by government spooks for building two radio towers in the front yard (still there) that could somehow thwart the Japanese submarines that were sinking everything that moved in the Monterey Bay during World War II.
Nobody knows whatever happened to Mr. Kitchen.