Saratoga is one of those towns would still probably be rural legally as well as aesthetically—that is, would have remained unincorporated—except for the Octopus: San Jose in its expansive mode after World War Two. In the 1950s, you incorporated or died. (See Woodside)
Those were the years my friend, Kate, spent summers there as a child, playing in the creek and orchard behind the vacation house her Dad came to on the weekends, getting off the train where today there aren’t even the ruins of a station—her family’s version of Fifties San Francisco life.
That tiny town kept much of its charm. Today, it has the distinction of being not only one of the country’s wealthiest, but also one of its most educated! Along its main street, in what’s called the Village, the boutiques bristle in a vibrant downtown, and at its edges, it slowly merges with the oaks and redwoods of the Santa Cruz Mountains. Imagine lots of wonderful restaurants and a charming downtown to walk around. Like Menlo Park, the name Saratoga was taken from the East Coast. At one time, the town was known for its hot springs, whose mineral content was similar to that of Saratoga Springs in New York State. Et voilà!