A few days after their wedding on July 31st 1948, the newlyweds flew to La Paz. My father never considered the consequences of taking his glamourous bride, accustomed to the elegance and comfort of Beverly Hills to a tiny hotel in the tropics in August when the heat is most oppressive. But as my father described, my mother’s composure staying at the La Perla Hotel while Las Cruces was under construction, was remarkable. While voicing his concerns about her happiness, she told him that geography didn’t matter, that with him she would be happy anywhere.
Building a resort 70 years ago required importing most of the building materials from mainland Mexico or the United States. Experienced and qualified workers were almost nonexistent. The resort had to include wells, water distribution systems, a power plant and transmission lines, a three-thousand-foot airstrip, a marina and a dock. My father was the architect, landscaper, decorator, foreman and pilot.
None of this would have been possible without my father’s clear vision, endless energy, hard work and the ever-present love and support of my mother. To ensure that guests were being attended to and served properly, she patiently taught the necessary etiquette to the employees. Her attention to every detail to please the guests never went unnoticed and her mild manners, gentle demeanor, grace and transcendent beauty captivated all who visited Las Cruces and helped it evolve into a charming, luxurious resort catering to celebrities and dignitaries.
Together, my parents welcomed many people and helped them discover the mysterious beauty of Baja California Sur. Together, they paved the way for all to enjoy and prosper in a land that not too long ago was foreign and inaccessible to most.
