When state legislators arrived in Vallejo for the new session in 1852, they found a saloon in pretty good shape and an unfinished disaster of a Capitol building that lasted just 11 days.
The Alta California newspaper reported lawmakers in their finest were forced to sit on small kegs with boards placed across the openings, “which now and then break under the weight of legislative dignity and let down a row of honorable gentlemen flat on the floor.”
Enter the residents of Benicia, a few miles to the south, who formed bricks on site and in just four months erected a dignified two-story building worthy of the growing Golden State. That majestic 1853 edifice still stands to this day; in fact, I wrote every word of this paragraph while sitting on its gray steps.
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Downtown Benicia in Solano County has long punched above its weight, for both history and small-town charm. Its main drag features art galleries, cute lunch spots and dive bars, terminating on the Carquinez Strait at a pier and lawn perfect for fishing, kite-flying or pulling three or four grandchildren in a wagon.
But the city’s history, told in museums and an almost comical number of plaques up and down First Street, is its own draw. This town of 27,000 once endeavored to outdo San Francisco and become “the Athens of the West.” And for a time, it arguably succeeded. Benicia housed the state Capitol, the first arsenal on the Pacific Coast and the first public school in California, and it was a vital link for the transcontinental railroad. Jack London wrote books here. Future heavyweight boxing champion Jim Corbett once went 18 rounds on a barge.
My first call is to Jerry Hayes, a family friend who bridges the two Benicias: He was Benicia’s mayor in the 1990s and is currently the town historian.
“I felt a part of a community and I never feel lost in my own community,” says Hayes, who was born in Benicia and left the area only for college and brief military service. “Coming back to Benicia is like putting on an old comfortable coat I had never thrown away. The people are friendly, and it’s small enough that you really know everyone else.”
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Biking down First Street, just a few blocks from the Interstate 780 exit, I can feel what Hayes means. I’m greeted to my right by a massive town square, with towering trees and a sturdy wood playground, and to my left by St. Paul’s Episcopal Church, in an old building with alpine architecture, a large Pride flag and two pianos that have been wheeled outdoors. A teenager is playing Mozart.
It’s the first of many Main Street U.S.A. touches, with some Vallejo vibes mixed in. As I head toward the water on First Street the entirety of downtown is in front of me. I pass the Majestic Theater, opened in 1920 to screen silent films, which in recent years has shown live theater and comedy, pedaling behind a man on a three-wheel e-bike with a trailer for his dog, a California flag, and a speaker blasting Shaboozey.
But Benicia isn’t stagnant. One House Bakery opened in 2018 in a First Street warehouse, run by a chef who once baked bread for the French Laundry. With hearty lunches, abundant pastry choices, an open kitchen and seating on front and back patios, it feels as much like a community hub as a dining spot. Try the arugula chicken pesto brie sandwich and bacon cheddar chive scone or really anything that comes out of an oven.
Today, I stop for lunch at the Drift, which makes salads and an excellent prosciutto pizza on focaccia, with balsamic vinegar instead of red sauce. But I’m sold on the place when I see a “Local Newspaper $0.50” sign and a small basket filled with folded-up editions of the Benicia Herald. “A First Street business since 1898,” the newspaper banner says.
Old and new ideas mix everywhere. At the Filling Station, a sustainability-focused gift shop, locals can buy Benicia sweatshirts and bring their own containers to refill with soap and hand lotion. Back on my bike, I discover a city of alcoves, with old buildings such as the Tannery, an 1800s leather-making warehouse repurposed into a mazelike hive of small businesses including antique shops, two saloons and art-making spaces.
On Jerry Hayes’ recommendation I speed down to the waterfront, where a 1902 ferry depot is now the visitor center. A friendly volunteer hands me two brochures with maps that send me on a detailed history walk through the city.
I’ve visited history museums in a dozen Bay Area towns — often among my first stops for these under-the-radar downtown tours. Most have a quilt or two, information about obscure city founders and defunct train stations, maybe some compelling poultry or 1906 earthquake history.
But no small town delivers on storytelling like Benicia. Local legend says it was an old adobe hotel and saloon in Benicia where locals overheard an out-of-town messenger boasting about finding gold at Sutter’s Mill, touching off the great Gold Rush. The city served briefly as the state capital in the mid-1850s and was home to the first arsenal on the Pacific Coast, supplying munitions for conflicts from the Civil War to Pearl Harbor, while assembling (this isn’t a typo or fever dream) an experimental corps with camels in between. Jack London slept along the Benicia waterfront in 1892, gathering material for his books “John Barleycorn” and “Tales of the Fish Patrol.”
Benicia minds also helped solve a transcontinental railroad problem, building the 450-foot Solano, the largest ferry of its time, which shuttled entire trains between Benicia and Port Costa on the Carquinez Strait from 1879 until a railroad bridge was built in the early 1930s.
Jerry Hayes proudly talks about the barge, managing to connect the can-do spirit and hometown pride to the Benicia of today. There’s a waterfront festival this weekend, centered at the historic ferry depot. The town hosts Porchfest every September, where local bands play on front lawns. The Independence Day parade, called the Torchlight, takes place on the eve of the Fourth of July.
“If (residents) are not in the parade, they’re lining the streets,” Hayes says. “It’s a good small-town environment, and we’ve been able to keep it all these years.”
In my final hour here, I see more and more history surrounding me.
Sailor Jack’s, a cozy and rustic seafood spot overlooking the water, is in an old captain’s house from the 1860s. I duck into a public restroom behind the Fischer-Hanlon house. Yet another plaque informs me it’s a Gold Rush-era home turned museum; the wisteria vine I just passed is more than a century old.
Next door is Benicia’s Capitol building, which served just 13 months from 1853 to 1854, before Sacramento was chosen as the Legislature’s final destination. Sitting in the shadow of this 173-year-old building, which looks no worse for wear, I think about a Chronicle article written in 1953 for the structure’s 100th anniversary.
“Its memories are rich,” the reporter wrote. “And Benicia is inclined to hold on to them like an old dowager who sees no reason to discard her favorite gown simply because the years have left it yellow around the edges.”
The “Athens of the West” is no more. What remains is a town that found a new future as an intimate family suburb, without letting go of its storied past.