The Oceanside Revolution
The North County city has gone from an all-but annexed coastal town by Camp Pendleon to a thriving bed of culinary and artistic success.
BY TROY JOHNSON
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There are two Oceansides: the more tourist-oriented downtown, and the local haven of South O. Both have their charms. When the city allocated redevelopment money years ago, most of it went into downtown. So South O business owners—like Roddy and Aaron Browning of Flying Pig, which most people credit as the bistro that started the city’s little revolution—grabbed some bootstraps and built themselves.
[Wrench & Rodent owner David] Waite introduces me to Charlie Anderson, a native many refer to as “the mayor of South O.” He credits TransWorld, a surfing and skating lifestyle media company founded in Oceanside, as a big reason for the city’s creative boom. “They brought all these creative people to the area who had access and connections who started their own businesses,” he says. “I started Privateer [Coal Fire Pizza] while working there. Our former receptionist at TransWorld started Nixon watches. Brixton apparel was started by a TransWorld employee; [sports commentator] Sal Masekela worked there.”
Waite, a 37-year-old sushi chef, is a living metaphor for his hometown. He spent the first half of his life as the kid moms warn their children to avoid—drugs, drinking, danger. Then he cleaned up and became an attraction.
With an old Oceanside punk band, The Hillstreet Stranglers, on his radio, Waite drives me to some of his favorite places. We start downtown at Petite Madeline, a bakery owned by local Christine Loyola. Their all-day buns and ham sandwiches (Gruyère cheese, béchamel sauce, and roasted ham) pull a steady stream of locals in for breakfast and lunch.
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We stop by Real Surf Shop and meet owner Shawn Ambrose. I tell him I’m doing a story on—“The gentrification of Oceanside,” he says, finishing my sentence. Yes, well, the growth.
“Here’s the thing,” Ambrose explains. “We don’t want to become Huntington Beach. Unfortunately, the town council uses that as a goal, kind of. You can’t stop progress, but you can control it. I’d rather be closer to OB or Leucadia.”
You’ll hear almost this exact line from all the local business owners: progress is inevitable; we’d rather be a part of it. “If you talk to everyone, we’re all going to say the same thing,” explains Waite, smirking as he adds, “and if we have to bear arms to accomplish our agenda…”
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“Mayor Anderson” has expanded Privateer next door with a market of local goods. He serves baked treats from Madeline, plus some desserts from a local gal who’s baking while working a day job at Brixton. His son works at Privateer. They had the same third-grade teacher at the nearby elementary school.
The fact that Waite has taken me to see Privateer is indicative of Oceanside’s community, especially South O. Locals help each other. Outsiders who don’t get it get snubbed. As a surfer, I suggest to Anderson that it’s similar to “aggressive localism” in the water. I apologize, feeling that might be too harsh.
“You can say ‘aggressive localism,’” he agrees. “I feel we’re really welcoming and accommodating, open arms to everyone. But if you’re going to be a jerk and disrespect us, then the elbows go up. Because we’ve been ostracized our entire lives as ‘Oceanslimes.’ Dirtbags. And here are these dirtbags now making cool stuff. We don’t take that for granted.”
They want people investing in the community. People who help each other. If you set up a pizza place next to a local who’s already selling pizza, your time in Oceanside will not be pleasant, and possibly short.