Knox remains a fortress of knowledge

Mary Knox has lived in Montara for more than 50 years.

By STACY TREVENON--Half Moon Bay Review

"I never expected to live by the ocean," said Mary Knox in a pleasant, cheerful cultured voice. "I lived in Illinois - y'know - flat."

She looks out the big double-paned living room windows in the Montara house she and her late husband, Laurence, built in 1952. It is perched high over the surf just south of Montara Beach, so the window commands a spectacularly sweeping view.

On this day, the surf is deep-blue and choppy, occasionally overlaid by shadows cast by passing clouds. It's been a stunning backdrop for the more-than 50 years Knox has lived here, raised four children, and taught school in the coastal community.

Her memories are clear and more than a little whimsical, from her childhood in Illinois to the 90th birthday she celebrated last week. Her birthday was followed by a party Sunday with her children, six grandchildren and three great-grandchildren, as well as friends and associates who gathered from "here and there, some from back East, some from out West."

Back in 1952, she said, there were 300 residents of Montara. That number represented a bit of a boom as military personnel had returned after World War II to pick up their lives. "It went so fast," she said. "I can hardly believe it. I think the community has grown very comfortably. It's a nice community - don't you think?"

While the community has grown, she said Montara remains the same in important ways.

"I don't feel a change," she said. "I would say, no."

Born March 6, 1916, the 10th in a family of 14 children, Knox grew up in Crystal Lake, Ill. Her mother, she said, was "very, very well-read." Her father was a farmer and "very knowledgeable about things." She also had an uncle who had lived in Barbados, wrote music and taught piano. She remembers how everyone in the house grew quiet when her uncle and mother sat down for one of their intellectual chats that roamed over many topics.

Her life unfolded according to the ethic her parents gave their children from the beginning, which took them though the Depression and beyond.

"We were taught to do a good job, whether we liked it or not," she said. "Everyone saved money in those days, and worked."

She started college in 1933. Knox scrubbed floors, doing the housekeeping in the dormitory where she lived, in exchange for room and board.

She'd learned to do housework without complaining. "But we all did it," she said. "We just flowed with it."

Or, in her case, scrubbed with it.

"I was out there cleaning toilets while the rest (of my classmates) were getting ready for the prom," she said mischievously. She had a goal.

"In those days, you graduated on a Friday and went to work on a Monday," she said.

Respectable avenues open to women then were teaching, nursing (which she didn't like) or office work (which she liked even less.) She chose teaching, and graduated in 1937 with a degree in education.

She returned to Crystal Lake to teach physical education, history and mathematics, and be a secretary, in the middle school she'd attended. She wasn't much older than her pupils, but it was a good fit.

"I like teaching," she said. "It was a matter of learning something new."

In 1940, at age 26, she and a niece took a bicycle tour of youth hostels in the Midwest, against the advice of a physician who thought girls shouldn't ride bikes. "I guess that wasn't right" then, she said. "It didn't look nice. But I thought I might as well do something. I was very independent."

Chances to "do something" cropped up when World War II broke out. Knox had her eye on becoming an officer with the WAVES - Women Appointed for Voluntary Emergency Service. She was not accepted, because she wore eyeglasses, but the organization did put her to work deciphering Japanese codes.

"The Japanese codes were set up much like ours," she said.

She remembers when word came that the United States had dropped the atomic bomb on Hiroshima.

"There was a dead silence" where she worked, she said. "Everyone started reviewing their life - Now, what do we do with this department?"

What Knox did was head to California with a service friend, to teach in a small town and later at the University of Southern California, where she met Laurence.

She also headed to Venezuela in 1949 to teach the children of Western families working with oil companies there. She and Laurence could not marry just then because she was signed up to return to Venezuela.

When the pair finally married in 1951, they enjoyed Sunday drives to the Coastside to look for a place to build a house. Finally, with the help of an uncle, they chose a site and started both house and family.

They also helped build their community. Laurence was a member of the "Montara/Moss Beach Improvement Club" which focused on civic improvement in the towns.

In time, Tom, Elizabeth, Emily and young Larry came along. When the youngest was in kindergarten, Knox returned to work as a substitute teacher.

That took her to local classes where the children knew her enough to mind, so she "had no trouble." And it took her to the South Coast, where her pupils were "dears."

She also taught at Cunha Intermediate and Farallone View Elementary schools, and eventually adults in night school in San Francisco. Her husband was also a teacher, of English and driver training in San Francisco. In the mid-1960s they spent a year in Hawaii on sabbatical. They also visited England, Italy and Africa.

She has been an active member of the Coastside's chapter of the American Association of University Women since its second year. She also watched her family grow to include relatives from Japan and Africa, grandchildren and great-grandchildren. Laurence passed away in 1997.

"She never loses hope even when illnesses get her down," said fellow AAUW member Tish Williams. "She loves watching the ocean and always talks bout Montara as 'a small community with big hearts.'"