Hard to think about this town without his omnipresence, the inimitable Bruce Bratton, who left us just days ago. Santa Cruz fixture and perennial gadfly Bratton was hired and fired by every publication in town more than once.
At his death, six months after his 90th birthday, the tireless opinionator was either loved or hated by exactly everyone in town. Having been through thick and thicker with Bruce for almost 40 years, I fall into the category of affectionate friend.
Bruce adored opera, especially if he could see it for free. He nurtured and educated my own love of the operas of Richard Wagner. If I squint I can still see him holding forth from his well-worn bench in front of the Octagon, back when it was Lulu Carpenter’s. He would trade in fresh news, and even fresher gossip. All the while appearing to do no harm and giving passers by the full wattage of his off-kilter smile.
Bruce loved Santa Cruz, his adopted home after retiring from a broadcast career in Los Angeles and then San Francisco. Bohemian and yet somehow LA by way of Swanton Road, he and another beloved guy-about-town, John Tuck, hung out with each other for decades. Friday night happy hour at the Catalyst was one of their arenas for tall tales, verbal sparring and freestyle flirtation. Bruce was an original when it came to the ladies. Sly and sweet, his unexpected pick-up line was, “Would you like to take a walk with me?”
With his easy smile and unassuming dress code, Bratton was approachable and generous with his time. And with his opinions, highly sharpened and always available. Those oft ascerbic perspectives, added to his tendency to wander immediately off-topic in his perennial newspaper column, earned him the wrath of readers and editors alike. Bruce flattered himself that his writing style resembled the three-dot journalist Herb Caen. A little of this, a little of that, liberally laced with progressive politics and film reviews that rarely exceeded one sentence. That writing “style” gave ulcers to editors and journalists alike.
He pissed off 20 people before he’d finished his first cup of coffee: such taboo issues as the development of Lighthouse Point, the Town Clock, correcting the name of London Nelson Center, complaining about Girl Scout Cookies, fighting with Good Times founder Jay Shore, and insisting that Koyaanisqatsi was the greatest film ever made. And of course his laidback alliance with the Goodtime Washboard 3.
By adding film reviews to his newspaper pieces, and of course his ubiquitous radio shows, Bruce got into every theatrical event (he adored Shakespeare Santa Cruz) and film screening (the Nickelodeon was his second home) for free. He adored the movies, even though his every observation earned him the scorn of serious reviewers like Lisa Jensen of original Good Times fame, and Michael Gant (and myself) of the various Metro newspapers flourishing in the ’70s, ’80s, ’90s and later.
Bruce was a gifted interviewer and hosted everyone with talent, wit or just plain incendiary opinions in his various on-air gigs. He knew his way around a radio studio, most recently at his weekly shows up at KZSC. And before that a long career with KGO and KCBS.
May his rumpled joie de vivre continue to play washboard with the great jugband in the sky. You were an original, dear Bruce, and you will be missed by those of us who remember you in your naughty heyday. You helped make Santa Cruz what it is today—distinct, vibrant, and full of politically charged salons.
Thanks for this Christina. I didn’t know Bruce personally or professionally, but his presence was ubiquitous. I knew he was important To this town, and full of its history. I learned more from your article.
Spot on dear. So glad I had the pleasure of living through those heady times.