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Take a peek at Long Beach’s past through this 1976 time capsule
What have we become in 50 years?
When Long Beach civic leaders and dignitaries sealed and buried a steel box five decades ago, it contained notes of what locals hoped the future might look like, and tokens of what the city was, in case anyone forgot.
Civic leaders gathered the public Wednesday to unveil the contents of a 50-year-old time capsule buried to mark the city’s bicentennial anniversary. The box was opened before a crowd of residents, historians and students, revealing papers, flags and inexpensive tchotchkes. But together, they provide snapshots of a drastically different past and confident predictions of a thriving 21st century Long Beach.
Long Beach Mayor Rex Richardson stood before the eager onlookers to catch a glimpse of a bygone era. “It’s not every day that we get to open a 50-year time capsule here in the city of Long Beach,” he began. “Who’s excited to see what’s in this box?”
The box, a 5.1-cubic-foot safe of stainless steel, was originally unearthed in 2022, amid the demolition of the former City Hall-Main Library. But it remained sealed until a few weeks ago, when officials privately opened and previewed the capsule to prepare for Wednesday’s main event.
Inside, the capsule held more than 85 items reflecting life in 1976: a Wham-O Frisbee in its original packaging, a fine-dining menu offering a prime rib dinner for $5.75, a 1976 telephone directory, Sears and Montgomery Ward catalogues, ashtrays, cufflinks featuring the Long Beach flag, and a model of the Long Beach-built DC-10 jetliner.
It also contained organizational flow charts from an era when the city government had 40% more departments, a vial of crude oil pumped from beneath the city — a nod to 1970s fears that local reserves would run dry by 2026 — and an aqua-blue Los Angeles County flag.
“Well, it’s not the best-looking flag, but we are still in LA County, that holds true,” Richardson joked to the crowd, before glancing at the city’s flag and adding, “It might be time we update this flag.”
Among the most poignant contents were letters written by local elementary students describing their daily lives and offering earnest visions for the future. Several of those former students were present Wednesday to read their childhood essays aloud.
Sharon Schreiber-Fisher, a former student at Bret Harte Elementary School who eventually grew up to become a teacher herself, recalled finding her original draft essay in a dusty suitcase in her attic prior to the event.
“I don’t believe my teacher chose me because of this essay,” Schreiber-Fisher said. “I believe my teacher chose me because she knew that I needed a win.”
Her childhood letter painted a vivid, innocent picture of 1976 life with wild futuristic predictions: that Long Beach will have nice people who no longer steal, pretty flowers, impressive transportation and an abundance of homes to live in. “Cars will be running and moving along streets and won’t need gas… The television will go to anything a person wants to watch. It will run on water… Yes, I think the world will be very nice in the future,” she read. (She might have been on to something with on-demand TV.)
Amelia Fritz, a former student at Patrick Henry Elementary, peppered her 1976 letter with questions for the future: Will people learn faster? Is the smog still bad? Do people still go to the beach? Are computers still an important part of our lives?
“Is the country still run by a president elected by the people of the United States?” she asked, getting a mix of chuckles and groans from the audience.
Historical Society President Julie Bartolotto noted that in many ways, Long Beach’s present mirrors its past. Fifty years ago, life was also marked by high gas prices, deep political divisions and widespread distrust in the federal government amid an unpopular Vietnam War, scandals like the Pentagon Papers and Watergate, and the recent resignation of President Richard Nixon.
Several speakers continued that 1976 was also a moment of intense civic ambition for Long Beach, much like today. By then, the city had navigated decades of unbridled growth, the 1933 earthquake, wars and shifting demographics.
Faced with urban sprawl and deterioration, city leaders at the time launched an all-out revitalization program to reshape its image as a sleepy coastal town into a 24-hour city where residents could work, live, lunch on a grassy knoll by the water, view an art collection, or take in a convention on anything from tattoos to tariffs.
When the time capsule was buried in July 1976, it was deemed a “Bicentennial gift to the future.”
Its burial came ahead of the much-anticipated opening of the then-gleaming, $25 million City Hall-Main Library. A crowd of 6,000 people gathered for bands, balloons and speeches by civic officials, and a parade themed “Let Freedom Ring” featured a 485-pound tiger named Spot chained to a convertible.
As the capsule was lowered into the earth 50 years ago, then-Mayor Thomas Clark reflected on the city’s transformation from a “sleepy hamlet to the sixth-largest city in the most populous state in the union.”
“We can be proud of our living heritage, which grows as we grow, changes as we change and harnesses the combined strengths of all manner of peoples to provide a future for our children and their children,” Clark said.