Grandfather of Steampunk

By: Andrew Thomas

“You can be as crazy as you want to be, as long as you don't hurt anybody” - Bob Schultz, Circa 1997 with SF Weekly.

On a fine spring morning, I take the Amtrak train to Martinez, a small California town of 40,000 along the Suisun Bay. I’m headed there to meet Bob Shultz, who greets me with a huge smile and arms wide open. Bob is an icon among East Bay artists, and I’d reached out to him for that reason.

Bob grew up on a farm with no electricity in rural Nebraska. When he graduated high school, he “joined the Navy just like [he] was supposed to.” Later, in the 1950s, he served as a Navy mechanic, and was stationed at Treasure Island outside of San Francisco. He didn’t plan to stay in the Bay after being discharged, but while scratching together money for rent, a friend offered him a place to crash in Oakland. 

It’s fair to say he fell in love with Oakland almost immediately. He took on odd jobs to stay afloat, meeting lots of interesting people along the way. He was a frequent patron of many local bars, but he became especially obsessed with the local jazz scene: 

“I was a jazz scene regular and it was great. I began feeling a little too comfortable though and there was this one instance in which I was paid [for a job] in “boa constrictor” and brought [the snake] with me to the jazz clubs. One time the snake got loose and the venue owner went nuts and the owner yelled ‘get that goddamn snake’ [...] Haha, those were the days.” 

Inspired by the sights and sounds of Oakland, Bob enrolled at the California College of the Arts in 1958 to pursue an art degree. In 1961, he finally landed a “regular” job to build rides and scenery for Oakland’s “Children’s Fairyland” playground in 1961.

Children’s Fairyland

Walt Disney himself visited Children’s Fairyland—among other amusement parks—in the 1950s, and that visit served as inspiration for what ultimately became Disneyland. Over the years, Bob designed and built a huge portion of the rides and props in Fairyland.

Bob doesn’t like to keep track of time and aims for a kind of “flow state” when searching for synergy between art and function. He often built props and rides from scratch, taking responsibility for fundamentals like the ride’s mechanics all the way down to details like paint choice. It’s clear that Bob feels proud of what he’s built, and watching kids enjoy his creations has always brought him joy. It’s a special shame, then, that whenever a new ride or sculpture was christened, Bob never once received credit.

In the 1970s, new management was installed and the organization became more bureaucratic. Leadership started laying off large portions of staff, and Bob’s new boss in particular began to watch him closely. Bob mimics his boss’s voice from that time: “I’m gonna be your new boss. I’m gonna hang a cab on your tail I’m gonna know you are every minute of every day.” 

Ultimately, Bob decided to quit. His memory of that moment is quite specific: it happened on November 27, 1977 at 3:30 PM. During a particularly heated conversation, Bob yelled a few choice words and walked out, never to return.

Fifth Avenue

Bob’s story with the Fifth Avenue artist’s enclave dates back to 1971. Bob set up shop there to do miscellaneous tasks and art projects, and was often called a “steampunk” by local craftsmen.

Around this time, most people moving into Fifth Avenue’s “live-work” space were tinkerers and handymen just like Bob. That slowly changed, and in 1979 Bob began throwing parties with live music. By the time the 1980s rolled around, Fifth Avenue had evolved into full-on hub for industrial artists of all stripes. “It got a little more funky,” as Bob puts it. Bob was fully invested in this new arts community, and by then says he had completely moved past his time at Fairyland and embraced a more bohemian lifestyle.

Around the year 2000, nearby Jack London Square began to flourish as people started recentralizing from the suburbs. Even still, the Fifth Avenue area remained just off the radar of Jack London developers and continued to flourish.

Retirement & Brooklyn Basin

In 2013, Bob bought 2 acres in a quiet neighborhood in the small town of Martinez, about an hour away from Oakland via Amtrak. He donated some of his property at Fifth Avenue and closed up shop there completely in 2017. 

By then, it was clear that outside interests were looking to build a new housing development on and around Fifth Avenue’s property. Strong opposition kept the Fifth Avenue area thriving through late 2017, but by then, the Brooklyn Basin development was well underway. As of mid-2018, there are still some artists living in the Fifth Avenue area, but it won’t be long before the old industrial houses are bulldozed in favor of new high rise condos.

While talking about the Brooklyn Basin development, Bob pauses, shrugs, and changes the subject. He’s a positive person by default, but his eyes portray some faint sadness. 

As we’re wrapping up our time together—driving around and reminiscing about the past—Bob spies a garage sale. With a glitter in his eyes, he exclaims “I love junk”—and so much of what I know and love about Bob is instantly affirmed.