History of Carlsbad, California

Carlsbad: An Unabashed History of the Village by the Sea Revised Edition

by Charles Wesley Orton

Copyright 1987, 2009 Charles Wesley Orton

Table of Contents Preface to the 1987 Edition.........................................4 A King and His Dog ..................................................6 The Corporals Run the Army, and They Name the Lagoons, Too. Or Do They?......................................6 Juan Marron and Rancho Agua Hedionda...........10 Francis Hinton and Robert Kelly Take Over Rancho Agua Hedionda ........................................................14 The Carlsbad Choo-Choo Chugs into Town, and John Frazier Digs a Well against All Advice ..................19 Gerhard Schutte Brings the Land Boom and a New Name to Frazier’s Station.......................................24 Carlsbad Takes a Nap .............................................30 The Roaring 20s Perks Things Up.........................38 Another Shot at Mineral Water Fame...................45

Sidebars Excerpt from Crespi’s Diary..............................7 Agua Hedionda Isn’t Hedionda Any More........9 Pirates in Carlsbad? ...........................................9 The Judge of the Plains....................................16 Sudden Death of Mr. Francis Hinton...............16 Last Will and Testament of Francis Hinton .....17 A Short History of Carlsbad Newspapers........21 William Webster Borden, Pioneer Journalist...21 Excerpts from Borden’s Newspapers, 1885-1920 ........................22 The Famous Railroad Tie Shortage .................33 What (or Who) Really Started the Great Flood of 1916?............35 Wildcatters in Carlsbad: The Victoria/La Costa Oil Well ..............36 The Encina Power Plant ..................................53 Batiquitos Lagoon and La Costa .....................55 Leo Carrillo and Los Quiotes ..........................56 From Restaurant to Military Academy ............57 The Revival of Frazier’s Well..........................58 Magee Park ......................................................59 Saved from the Wrecker’s Ball........................60

To Be Or Not to Be: The City That Almost Wasn’t................................................47 The Young City Grows Up......................................49 Bibliography ............................................................61 Afterword.................................................................62 More Photos .............................................................64

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Preface to the 1987 Edition This book is dedicated with incalculable gratitude to Kay Christiansen and Marje Howard-Jones, who gave more than their share to make it a reality.

My wife Theresa Snoeyenbos and I are relative newcomers to Carlsbad, having moved here from Oklahoma City in the latter part of February 1985. We didn't choose Carlsbad; it was chosen for us by a new company with which I'd accepted the position of "vicepresident-creative."* We were hesitant at first. At about the same time this offer was made, there was another that would have taken us back to our native state of Wisconsin. The salaries, benefits, and perqs being roughly equal, we tossed a coin. It came up heads, and we came up in Carlsbad.

We're glad we did. We enjoy the natural beauty of the area, natural beauty being in decided short supply in and about Oklahoma City. But verdure and blue water are only adjuncts to the true beauty of Carlsbad--the people.

Theresa and I have spent some time in every state west of the Mississippi, and have lived and worked for a number of years in Utah and Oklahoma. Nowhere have we found the sincere friendliness that we've found in the Carlsbad area.

I've often wondered why this attitude should be so abundant in Carlsbad. In doing the research for this book, I think I've found the answer. For some reason, Carlsbad has throughout its history attracted men and women who, even in pursuit of their own goals and dreams, have kept a larger-thancommon sense of community, compassion, and kindness, the knowledge that "if it isn't good for you, it isn't good for me, either."

There have been exceptions, of *Don't ask me. I've never figured out what it means, either. In any event, I don't work there any more, so it doesn't make a lot of difference.

course; but their effects have been minimal and overwhelmed by the more powerful positive influence of the majority.

When all is said, when the last word has been written about Carlsbad's place in time and space, this, then, is its heritage and legacy: friendliness, optimism, fairness, and a willingness to make good things even better.

This attitude among Carlsbad's residents has made my job in writing this book much easier than it might have been otherwise, and I must acknowledge the open and willing assistance of the following: Geoff Armour Dottie Bird David Bradstreet Myrtle Broam Mary Casler Kay Christiansen Mildred Dawson Roger Dawson Hannah Frost Archie Hicks Bill Hill Marje Howard-Jones Allan O. Kelly Charles Ledgerwood Kip McBane Viola Schutte Paul Schwartz Richard Severson James Thompson Natalie Vermilyea Mike Martin of the Santa Fe Southern Pacific Corporation and Lori Davisson of the Arizona Historical Society were also of great assistance.

A special thank you goes to Karen Duncan, Patricia Rinaker, and Niel Sybert of San Diego Gas and Electric.

Carlsbad: An Unabashed History of the Village by the Sea 4

Now, to put us in the right frame of mind, let's kick this thing off with a most appropriate quotation: "My own history of the place is inclined to be fragmentary because I don't have the space to include everything. However, I have tried to do a conscientious job, and I have no doubt my treatment will be recommended for use in schools and colleges throughout the land. Now, let us have done with frivolity.

Knowledge, said the philosopher, consists chiefly of knowing things.

Let us know things."

H. Allen Smith Lost in the Horse Latitudes Cover photos: Plessey building at Carlsbad Research Center courtesy The Koll Company: Carlsbad's founders on railway platform courtesy Carlsbad Historical Society; flower field courtesy Carlsbad City Library (photo by Joe Skymba).

Text photos: All photos in text are courtesy of the Carlsbad Historical Society unless otherwise credited.

Dedication This edition of Carlsbad, An Unabashed History is dedicated to the two best friends I’ve ever had, and who can never be replaced: My father, Tilden Everett Orton and Thomas K. Sliwa

Carlsbad: An Unabashed History of the Village by the Sea 5

A King and His Dog The history of Carlsbad, California, begins about 150 years before Columbus tripped over the New World on his way to the East Indies. And it begins not in the Americas, but in Europe with a Bohemian king who owned a clumsy dog. The king's name was Karl (or Charles) IV. (He was also known as Karl I. Figure that one out.) History does not record the dog's name.

Karl was an unusual king for the period. He believed things were better without war, and during his reign his nation engaged in no hostilities. He also had a liking for the arts and sciences, which in 1348 led him to put up the money to start a university in Prague at a time when the city-states in Italy, which later were to hog the credit for the Renaissance, were still bashing at each other.

Something less than a year after assuming the throne, Karl took his clumsy dog hunting in the mountains of Bohemia in what is now western Czechoslovakia. As

they went along, a stag leaped across their path and over a cliff.

The dog followed, but, not having the stag's grace and knowledge of the lay of the land, did a belly-flop into one of 12 hot springs at the foot of the cliff.

Karl's royal physician noted that the cuts, bruises, and abrasions that resulted from this venture into canine aerobatics healed more quickly than was normal. He suggested that Karl try the water on an old and troublesome war wound.

(Although Karl didn't engage in any wars, his father had gotten him into a couple.) To everyone's surprise, and probably to the physician's relief (good-paying doctor jobs not being too plentiful in those days) the wound healed as if by magic.

Karl was so happy about it all that in 1347 he built a spa and hunting lodge near the site. In time, the therapeutic qualities of the water came to be known far and wide. A town grew up and was called Karl's Badt (Karl's Bath); later, Karlsbad.

Today the town is called Karlovy

King Karl I (or IV) after whom, in a roundabout way, Carlsbad, California, is named. Photo by Charles Wesley Orton.

Vary and is still famous for its spas.

Now, what does all this have to do with Carlsbad-spelled-with-a"C", California? It will be as sparkling clear as Perrier in short order. Right now, let's leap forward in time about 400 years and spy on the first Spaniards to hoof it around southern California.

The Corporals Run the Army, and They Name the Lagoons, Too. Or Do They?

Nearly 400 hundred years after Karl IV (or KarlI, whichever you prefer) died, the Spanish crown was resting uneasily. The Russians had founded some fur-trading and salmon-fishing posts in northern California, which was a bad sign.

The next thing you knew, those vodka drinkers would be moving south, into territory Spain considered hers. Possession being ten-tenths of the law in those days, the Spanish king directed his

minions to go speedily thence and establish missions along the coast of Alta California (all of current California and Nevada, much of Utah, and the western half of Arizona) to establish Spain's presence and halt the Russian menace.

The job fell to Gaspar de Portola, a soldier who was also the newly named governor of Alta California, and Junipero Serra, a Franciscan missionary. The first thing on the Carlsbad: An Unabashed History of the Village by the Sea 6

agenda was to establish the port of Senor San Diego de Alcala, known today simply as San Diego, which was done in May 1769. The next objective was to go north and stake a claim on Monterey Bay. The bay had been seen by sea captains but had never been approached by land.

Therefore, on Friday, July 14, 1769, a large party left San Diego to make the northward trek. In this party was Serra's right-hand missionary, Fray Juan Crespi, who kept a diary of the

journey. From this record, we have the first account of Europeans treading the ground of modern-day Carlsbad.

Tradition has it that on July 17 the Portola-Crespi party took a lunch break or something near Palamai, an unoccupied Indian village just east of Agua Hedionda Lagoon. The soldiers are said to have named the lagoon "Agua Hedionda" ("stinking water") because the water was low and stagnant, this being the height of summer. Another version contends that the stink noticed by the soldiers came from the refuse heaps of the Indian village.

As intriguing as this legend is, it is probably apocryphal to a certain degree. First of all, Crespi is likely to have mentioned any great stink and its source, given his usual thoroughness in description. He took the effort to record finding roses and describe their sweet fragrance.

Would he have passed up the chance to record a malodorous location?

Second, Crespi does not record stopping at the place, only that they passed by. Third, the soldiers were pretty gamy themselves, not being partial to soap and water. They probably couldn't smell a week-dead fish being passed from hand to hand.

Still, there is the possibility that Agua Hedionda did get its name from the soldiers, or at least from some who came after them. Two things are certain: One, the party did not stop at or near Agua Hedionda Lagoon; and, two, Crespi's name for the lagoon's creek (San Simon Lipnica) did not stick--Agua Hedionda did.

The natives of the area met the Spaniards with friendliness, if not with the awe afforded by those gullible Aztecs of Mexico.* Of the Alta Californian Indians, Crespi said, "All this land is populated with a large number of Indians who are *Another legend has it that one of the natives was not too taken with the Spaniards, however, and suggested to his fellows that they produce bumper stickers with the legend, "Welcome to Palamai--Now Go Home." This idea was greeted with some enthusiasm, but it died in fierce debate over what a "bumper" was.

very greatly generous and wellformed. The most savage natives that we have found are those of San Diego and a circle in the same neighborhood." Crespi and company didn't like the San Diego Indians too much because these natives were engaging in the same enterprise as the Spanish--they stole anything they could get their hands on.

The Indians of the Carlsbad area were of two general groups, more or less separated by the San Luis Rey River (some historians draw the dividing line a little south of Carlsbad). The Spanish called the northern ones "Luisenos"; the ones to the south, Dieguenos. Both groups lived a somewhat nomadic life, camping near the ocean in the winter and moving on into the higher, cooler ground in the summer.

The Spaniards continued on their

journey. They couldn't find Monterey Bay, but they discovered San Francisco Bay. Then they returned to San Diego. A few months later, another expedition did find Monterey Bay. The Franciscans then set about founding various missions.

Mission San Luis Rey One of these missions was the famous Mission San Luis Rey, founded in 1798 and situated in present-day Oceanside. Its lands extended "eleven leagues from north to south and fifteen leagues from east to west" (Fr. Payeras, report of Oct. 5, 1822). Although much of this was arid and unsuitable for either agriculture or grazing, the Indians who lived and worked on the lands had a flair for husbandry. When the mission was begun in 1798, there

EXCERPT FROM CRESPI'S DIARY Recounting the Expedition’s Trek through the Carlsbad Area Monday, July 17.--At three in the afternoon we left the camp [east of Batiquitos Lagoon], following the valley in a northerly direction. In a little while we climbed a very grassy hill without rocks, in open country, then traveled over mesas that are in part covered with grass and other shrubs not known to us.

Aside from this all the land is well covered with grass and is mellow.

After traveling about a league [about 3 miles] we descended to a valley full of alders in which we saw a village, but without people.

In passing we named this valley San Simon Lipnica [this is the valley through which flows Agua Hedionda Creek]. It is not very far from the shore, and at the end of it we saw an estuary, although the sea was not visible. We continued on our way in the same northerly direction, over hills and broad mesas supplied with good pasture, and to a small, very green valley, which has a narrow plain some fifty varas wide [about 150 yards, a vara being 3.3 feet). We pitched camp on the slope of the valley on

the west side. The water is collected in pools, and we noticed that it flowed out of several springs, forming about it marshes, or stagnant pools, covered with rushes and grass. We named this place Santa Sinforosa [Buena Vista Creek]. We saw from the camp a village of heathen on the summit of a hill, who, having been informed by their neighbors of San Alejo, deputed two of their number to ask permission to visit us. They were given to understand by signs that they must put it off until the following day, as it was late, but, as soon as they went back to their village all its inhabitants came to camp. As soon as they arrived their leader made his speech, with excellent gestures; but without waiting for him to finish his harangue, he and his people were given some beads and dismissed.

The next morning they returned and remained until our departure.

Herbert Eugene Bolton Fray Juan Crespi: Missionary Explorer on the Pacific Coast 1769-1774

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Mission San Luis Rey in 1986. Photo by Tom Sliwa.

were 162 cattle, 600 sheep, 28 horses, and 10 mules. Thirty-five years later, in 1832, there were 27,500 cattle, 26,100 sheep, 1,300 goats, 300 pigs, 1,950 horses, and 180 mules. That same year, 6,738 bushels of grain (wheat, barley, corn, beans, peas, lentils, garbanzos, and habas) were harvested.

In the same 35-year period, the number of neophytes (baptized Indians) at the mission grew from 203 to 2,788.

Emancipation of the Mission Indians When Mexico gained its independence from Spain in 1821, the missions' days were numbered.

The new Mexican government's official view was that the missions had served their purpose (which was, first, to prevent incursion by the Russians and English, and only secondarily to convert the heathen to Christianity) the Indians should be freed from servitude at the missions (the Spanish government had originally intended that each mission operate for only ten years).

Following this sentiment, Alta California's Governor Echeandia issued on July 25, 1826, a circular proclaiming the emancipation, in the military districts of San Diego,

Santa Barbara, and Monterey, of all Indians qualified to become Mexican citizens. (In 1828, the emancipation was extended to include San Francisco south of the bay.)

About the only thing this emancipation did was to put the Indians in a worse position than before. The Indians who left the missions walked right into the hands of private ranchers and farmers, who felt the need for some slave labor.

As is done in some parts of Mexico even today (and in parts of the U.S. into the twentieth century), the ranchers created "debts" for food, shelter, and clothing that the Indians had to work off. Of course, the interest on these "debts" and the rate at which the ranchers calculated amortization of principal and accrued interest were such that an Indian became a lifetime serf. An Indian who ran away was in real trouble if caught again.

Some of the Indians didn't take the government up on this offer of freedom and stayed on the missions.

Their lot wasn't easy, either. They had to work harder to make up for the absence of their fellows.

By this time, most of the Spanish soldiers had been withdrawn to Spain, and those who went, went Carlsbad: An Unabashed History of the Village by the Sea 8

gladly. The San Diego area was known more for its fleas and other natural discomforts than for the riches and booty so dear to a conquistador's heart. Duty at the Presidio was about as popular with them as Aleutian Islands duty is to a GI. Some of the soldiers liked it here, though, and stayed on as craftsmen, tradesmen, and farmers.

Unfortunately for those who just wanted to make a new life in a new land, the Mexican government feared a royalist counter-revolution, and on March 10, 1829, issued a decree expelling from Mexican lands all men of Spanish birth who were under 60 years old. (There were certain specified exceptions, and even if these exceptions wanted to go back to Spain, they had to obtain a passport from the governor to leave California. The records show that sometimes the governor refused to issue a passport if he thought a person's talents or money were better used in California.)

Secularization of Mission Lands The Europeans who were left (variously known as Californios or paisanos) eyed the mission lands with covetous eyes, and they put pressure on the government to "secularize" those huge tracts; in other words, to take the land away from the padres and let private individuals have it, as had been the Spanish crown's intention years ago.

Governments move slowly, and some of the Californios decided to hasten things. In 1831, a band of about 30, led by Pio Pico, decided to show their displeasure by ousting the governor of Alta California, Manuel Victoria. Victoria was a suitable target because he was a tyrant who wanted to be a dictator (he refused to let Alta California's legislature meet and threw republican-oriented persons into jail) and he opposed secularization.

Pio Pico's group met Victoria and his forces in battle near present-day Hollywood. Victoria lived up to his name, and was victorious, routing the upstarts. But he was severely

wounded and the stuffing was knocked out of him. He knew he had won a battle, but that he was sure to lose the war. When his wounds healed enough for travel, Victoria resigned his governorship and left for Mexico. With him went Father Peyri of Mission San Luis Rey, who slipped away to plead the Church's case in Mexico City. (Peyri had to sneak off because Pio Pico, who was now governor, would not give Peyri a passport.)

Pio Pico was governor for only 20 days. But his willingness to shoot if things didn't go his way didn't go unnoticed: Subsequent governors turned a blind eye when, against the protestations of the mission fathers, Pio Pico and his brothers started using mission lands for grazing their own stock. This seems to have been enough of a sop for Pico until the government got around to emancipating all of the Indians on July 15, 1833, and confiscating all

mission property on August 9, 1834.

One can only imagine how good Pico must have felt when, on August 23, 1835, Fr. Buenaventura turned the holdings of Mission San Luis Rey over to his and Pablo de la Portillo's stewardship. And how horrible the Indians must have felt, given Pico's penchant for mistreating them--a habit that he indulged for as long as he lived in Alta California.

Agua Hedionda Isn’t Hedionda Any More Don't let the name fool you.

"Agua Hedionda" might mean "stinking waters"--and there were times in the past when it lived up to its name--but today the channel is open to the sea and the lagoon is a local pleasure spot for boaters, swimmers, and anglers.

Use of the lagoon for recreation was popular during the late twenties, too. Floods

opened the channel in 1922 and 1927, letting the tides sweep in and out, which kept the water from becoming stagnant. For about five years after 1927, the beaches and sandbars at the mouth of the lagoon were favorite picnic spots. The shallow water warmed easily over the mud flats and made for comfortable swimming.

This period came to an end

about 1932 when the highway department stuck its oar in and dynamited the old wooden bridge that crossed the channel.

The debris from the explosion blocked the channel until San Diego Gas & Electric dredged the lagoon and its channel when building the Encina Power Plant so the lagoon's water could be used for making the steam that turns the generators.

Pirates in Carlsbad?

Before the railroads were constructed, emigrants to San Diego County had two modes of transportation to choose from: overland or by sea. Both modes had their drawbacks, but the sea route was for a short time potentially more dangerous than even the trails through hostile-Indian territory.

For a while right around 1849, San Diego County had its own real live, bona fide pirate ship, complete with

pirates who made their victims walk the plank.

This crew of skulduggers was composed of former Mexican jailbirds who, shortly before the U.S. took over the show, had been given an easy choice: volunteer for army duty at San Diego's Presidio or hang. With the change in management after the war, it didn't take long for them to slip away from the Mexican army and set up shop as pirates in a cave on one of the

Carlsbad: An Unabashed History of the Village by the Sea 9

Coronado Islands.

For a while, they preyed on the gold-laden, undermanned, and basically defenseless ships that sailed south from the gold fields. Then there was the inevitable falling out among thieves. One of their number turned state's evidence, and the pirates soon found themselves literally at the end of their ropes.

Juan Marron and Rancho Agua Hedionda The secularization of the mission lands led to the formation of several large ranchos in what is now San Diego County. The one with the most effect on Carlsbad's history is the one that was called Rancho Agua Hedionda, granted to Juan Maria Ramouldo Marron II in 1842.* Marron had been in the band that attacked Victoria in 1831. This alone should have put him in a favorable light among the Californios, but he had a few other things going for him, as well. For one thing, he had married Felipa de Jesus Osuna, who was the daughter of Juan Maria Osuna, the owner of Rancho San Dieguito. For another, he was a very bright man and was well respected in San Diego society. He was literate, he had been born in San Diego in 1808,** and he had a talent for civic leadership (later in life he would twice be a regidor, or member of San Diego's governing council, and was elected mayor of San Diego in 1848).

Things went well with Marron for a few years. He built a threeroom adobe hacienda on the ranch, and built up a herd of cattle and horses. In 1845, he was appointed mayordomo of the Mission San Luis Rey lands, at an annual salary of $300,* by Pio Pico, who for some strange reason had become governor again. The mission's former grandeur was only memory by then.

For example, when Marron took possession on July 20, 1845, the *The original name given to the ranch by Marron was San Francisco Agua Hedionda. He preferred to call the rancho "San Francisco," but the less poetic short form of "Agua Hedionda" was the one everyone else used, and is the one that survives to this day. **The Juan Maria Marron of whom we speak here was not, as some have held, a retired Spanish sea captain. Our Juan Maria Marron was the son of the Juan Maria Marron who was a retired Spanish sea captain. Is it all straight, now?

Juan Maria Marron II, first owner of Rancho Agua Hedionda

livestock numbered only 279 horses, 20 mules, 61 donkeys, 196 cattle, 54 oxen, and 700 sheep. Some historians contend that Pico and his friends stole everything else. The record appears to substantiate this contention.

Marron divided his attention between the ranch and the mission, and Felipa took care of Father Zalvidea, who was sickly (and, by most accounts, a bit off in the head, speaking to the Devil and going in for self-flagellation). About this time, the Marrons acquired the first horse and carriage in San Diego.

There was nothing high-falutin' in this move, although Felipa is said to have enjoyed the envy of the other ladies. The Marrons still had business to conduct in San Diego, and an oxcart, which was the usual mode of transportation in those days, took an entire day to make the trip from the city to the ranch.

On October 28, Pico published a decree titled Sale and Leasing of the Missions. This was an illegal action, *Marron was never paid his salary and actually had to use his own money to support the mission and the mission father, Jose Maria Zalvidea.

Carlsbad: An Unabashed History of the Village by the Sea 10

and the Mexican government responded quickly (November 14) with a directive prohibiting the sale.

Pico didn't pay any attention to Mexico City, however, and on May 18, 1846, he sold Mission San Luis Rey to Jose A. Cot and Jose A. Pico for $2,000 in silver and $437.50 in grain.

The whole thing more or less fell apart with the invasion of the U.S. Army, but Pico wasn't one to give in easily. On July 24, when the U.S. forces were already in de facto control of the state Pico ordered Marron to forward an inventory of the mission's assets to Cot and Jose Pico. John Forster of San Juan Capistrano "took possession for the owners and then left Marron in charge for Cot and Pico" (Engelhardt).

Pico then went into hiding, since the invading Yankees let it be known they thought he'd make a dandy prisoner. From July through August, Pico spent his time dodging about the San Juan Capistrano and Rancho Santa Margarita (Camp Pendleton) countryside, at the same time trying to drum up support for a resistance movement.

In August, his secretary of state, Don Jose Matias Moreno, rode to Mission San Luis Rey to warn the Marrons of approaching soldiers, but found the troops had already surrounded the mission. For some reason, he sneaked into the mission, anyway.

Felipa wound a bandage around his head and put him into bed. When the soldiers searched the buildings and grounds for Pico, she told them that Matias was her injured nephew.

They swallowed that one and left the next day. As soon as the coast was clear, Matias dashed off to join Pico.

(Pico's revolt fizzled, and in early September he made tracks for Baja

California.)

Captain Archibald Gillespie, who was the commander of the Yankee force that had searched the mission, learned of Felipa's deception the same day that Matias left the mission. With an abrupt, "About face!" the detachment returned to the mission in a fury. Not finding either Matias or Pico, Gillespie blew his top and ordered the Marrons to vacate the premises. Soon thereafter, John Bidwell was appointed "magistrate of the district of San Luis Rey" by Commander Robert Stockton.

The Marrons went to Rancho Agua Hedionda, but found a cold reception from their neighbors. The neighbors hadn't liked Marron's previous "friendliness" with Stockton in San Diego. Marron was an intelligent man, and saw no reason to aggravate an occupying force even though his heart was with

the Californians. But in his neighbors' minds, placation was the same as aiding and abetting.

Therefore, they engaged in a campaign of harassment and vandalism that made it quite clear that Rancho Agua Hedionda's climate was turning unhealthy.

The Marrons left the ranch and went to San Diego, where they stayed with an old friend, Jose Estudillo. A few months later, word reached them that the Californians were planning to attack San Diego.

Not wanting to be in the middle of the battle, Marron asked Stockton for permission to go back to Agua Hedionda. Stockton gave his permission, with the provision that Marron not take up arms against the Yankees. Marron agreed, which put him in an even worse light so far as his compatriots were concerned, and the family journeyed north once more.

Carlsbad: An Unabashed History of the Village by the Sea 11

Their homecoming was an unhappy one. Marron's neighbors kept him prisoner for a while, debating whether they should shoot him. In the end, they let him go, but only after they had "liberated" most of the food and livestock at the ranch.

How all this preyed upon Marron's mind, one can only guess.

A Californian by birth, owner of a 13,000-acre ranch, and a relatively powerful man in the existing power structure, Marron had more reason than most to fight against the Yankees. But he could also see the futility of such a fight. Even so, he joined with the band of Californians that set out to ambush General Stephen Kearny's troops, who were on their way to San Diego.

The December 6, 1846, battle, known as the Battle of the San Pasqual Valley, went to the Californians.

Happy with their victory, they made for home, but their joy came to an abrupt end. A band of Indians seeking revenge for the cruelty and injustice of years attacked them that same day. Casualties were light, but it took some of the fun out of things.

As for Marron, it appears that his neighbors were intent on making him the scapegoat for all their troubles. Although he had shown his support by joining in the San Pasqual fray, they still considered him persona non grata, and let him know it. Marron was no dummy. He knew when he wasn't wanted. He and his family gathered what livestock they could find and went back to San Diego, where, it would appear, he came to terms with the new order, and never raised sword again.

Nor did he ever again set foot on Rancho Agua Hedionda. He died in San Diego on September 23, 1853, leaving the ranch to Felipa and their children. The children seem to have had little interest in the ranch after reaching adulthood. They went their own ways hither and yon in southern California, and played no important role in the later history of Agua Hedionda and Carlsbad.

Felipa hung in there, though. And so did Sylvestre Marron, who is variously described as either Juan Maria's son or younger brother.

Whatever the blood relationship, Sylvestre and his descendants--many of whom live in Carlsbad today--are the Marrons who figure in some of the later history of the ranch.

In 1855, Felipa and Sylvestre returned to Rancho Agua Hedionda and made a try at resuming operations. Beginning in 1858, the Marron family gave a series of mortgages and leases on the ranch that confused the issue of ownership in later years. Allan O. Kelly's account of this period is edifying: "The first county record on the Agua Hedionda grant was in March 1858 when [the Marrons] mortgaged it to Jose L.Estudillo. Then, in the following year, February 1, 1859 [they] deeded the ranch to Estudillo.

The Rancho Agua Hedionda hacienda in 1893. A large, Indian metate found on the ranch was used as a step to the veranda. Charles Kelly is in the foreground.

The Marron house was located near the center of the rancho on a hill above the Agua Hedionda Creek. It was a long narrow building containing five rooms all in a row--60 feet long by 18 feet wide on the outside, the walls being two feet thick. It was aligned north and south with a full-length porch on the east side and doors to each of the bedrooms facing on the porch and without doors between rooms. Each room had a window on the west side of the house, the door serving for a window on the east side.

The walls were 12 feet high with an open-beam ceiling with a ridgepole made of two squared pine logs brought down from Palomar Mountain. The squared beams were laid end to end, the inner ends resting on a middle

partition wall.

The living room was on the north end and was heated by a fireplace in the end of the building.

The (master) bedroom was next to the living room and did have a door between.

The kitchen was in a lean-to on the north end of the house.

The photo shows a shingle roof and I doubt that it ever had a tile roof.

The porch was about eight feet wide and as I remember it (as a small boy) had a wooden floor, also wooden floors inside, but in Marron's day it had only dirt floors. Uncle Robert, being a carpenter, no doubt put in the floors.

Allan O. Kelly, oral account to author, 1985

The next year, on July 25, 1860, Felipa Marron mortgaged the ranch to B. Couts (probably Cave Couts).

This confusion was followed, the records show, when other Marron heirs mortgaged the ranch to Francis Hinton in October 1860; and then on December 19, 1860 they leased the rancho to Hinton. To further mix matters up, the records show that Jose C. Marron and wife deeded the Rancho to Joe Mannasse on December 15, 1860.

"From the above it seems clear that all parties concerned, including the county recorder, were pretty much confused, if not unconcerned,

and little or nothing is known if a money consideration went with some of these mortgages and deeds; for example, Kelly family word-ofmouth history says that Hinton loaned the Marrons $9,000 on Rancho Agua Hedionda, while other stories (Copley Press) claim it was $6,000. Whatever the amount of money, a period of quiet prevailed.

This lasted until December 11, 1865, when the Marron heirs finally deeded the rancho to Francis Hinton. Then another calm prevailed until January 12, 1869, when Joe Mannasse deeded all his right and title to Hinton, and this was

Carlsbad: An Unabashed History of the Village by the Sea 12

followed by Juan N. Marron deeding all of his right and title to the Rancho Agua Hedionda on October 4, 1869."

Many people have wondered why the Marrons leased and mortgaged Rancho Agua Hedionda when they could have worked it.

Aside from the possibility of stressed family finances during the economic depression of the late 1850s, there is another plausible reason, as Kelly explains: "The chain of title to the Rancho Agua Hedionda comes down like this: “The king of Spain took it away from the Indians by force and in so doing laid claim to California and most of the western world. Mexico took it away from Spain; the Spanish Californians took it away from Mexico; and the United States took it away from the Californians.

Each of these acquisitions was by The author gave Allan Kelly an early version of this book’s manuscript for fact checking. Mr. Kelly wrote the following in response:

“The Sylvestre Marron that you mention was probably the father of the Sylvestre Marron that I knew as a boy. He was the local law in Oceanside, the constable. His main duty was to arrest the hobos who were "riding the rods" on the freight trains--a common way to travel in that day. He was a very large, and fat, man, probably 250275 pounds, and always wore a big black cowboy hat. He didn't carry a pistol as I remember, but did carry an old double-barreled shotgun. His means of transportation was an old onehorse buggy and when he sat down on one side of the seat, the spring was flattened on that side so that he hung one leg over the side and could step on the ground quickly.

To my memory, he never had any trouble with the hobos or local citizens. No shoot-outs. No crimes committed. He drove to town each day from his home out in what we

Courtyard of the Rancho Agua Hedionda hacienda as restored in the early 1980s

force, military force...

"Government by law then took over in a just and reasonable fashion. The lands were surveyed,

deeds recorded, and a true and valid claim of title established. The Congress of the United States tacitly admitted this when they voted to

called Marron Canyon. His house was on a little hill where the big rock quarry is now located. There were springs there in the creek and always some good meadow pasture in the flats below.

Sylvestre's brother Tito Marron lived just down the valley about 1/4 mile and on the north side of the creek in a small adobe. Sylvestre had built a wooden frame house some time in the 1890s. Tito ran a butcher business and sold meat to the Pala Indians. He would kill a beef about once in ten days and cut it up and haul it up the San Luis Rey River to Pala, where the squaws could pick out what they wanted. Tito's wife was said to be Indian or half Indian and his children were quite dark complected. I went to the Calavera school with the younger three of his children. There was an older sister but the younger ones my age were Joe, Sarah, and Trixie. The older sister was named Phillepe.

Sylvestre's wife was Spanish, and, I think, an Osuna or Alverado--two of the well-known Spanish families in San Diego County of that day.

They had five children, all of them

grown up when I was a boy, but I knew them all in later years. They were, in order of age: Dave, Frank, Reginaldo, Abraham, and Adelena.

They were all fine citizens and good neighbors. Sylvestre's four boys all married girls of another Spanish family nearby--the Romos.

Adelena married Joe Alvarado, who I believe was a member of another family of Alvarados that lived in Baja California. Joe and Adalena had three children--two boys and a girl--but I have lost track of them over the years.

A third Marron, older than Sylvestre or Tito, was an old whitehaired man when I was a little boy and I think he was either a brother of the Sylvestre you mention in your article or a much older brother of Tito and Sylvestre. His name was Juan Maria Marron and he lived another quarter mile down the Marron Canyon to the west and just where the Auto Club building is located on the north side of Vista Way. He lived in an old adobe house with a few pepper trees around it.

Carlsbad: An Unabashed History of the Village by the Sea 13

accept the land grants as given by Pio Pico and the other Spanish California governors of that time. In effect, it was admitted that the United States had taken California by armed force and that the owners of these land grants had a clear and valid title to the property....

"It would appear that the Marrons and other [Mexican] land grantees probably did the wise thing, from their point of view at the time. Since they had no real assurance that some new Congress would not rescind its previous vote

and take their lands without compensation, it made good sense to mortgage their lands or to sell for whatever they could get. This supposition is borne out by the fact that the Congress did not issue the U.S. land patent [on Rancho Agua Hedionda to Marron's heirs] until April 28, 1873 [more than 20 years after the U.S. took California].

"The facts are that before barbed wire was invented (1879), large tracts of land were not worth much more than the going price of 25 cents per acre because the

landowner had no control, everyone's livestock running on the land grants, where the best feed and water was located, the [Mexican] land grantees having picked out the best land available to receive as gifts from the governor.

"In the minds of the heirs of Juan Maria Marron, if they only got $6,000 for their 13,214 acres, that was nearly as much as it was worth at the going price of 25 cents an acre, not to mention any other sums they may have gotten out of the other mortgages or sales."

Francis Hinton and Robert Kelly Take Over Rancho Agua Hedionda Rancho Agua Hedionda next came into the possession of Francis Hinton and Robert Kelly.

Francis Hinton Francis Hinton had served with the U.S. Army during the Mexican War and had been a member of Lt. Couts' American Boundary Expedition escort in 1849. He was honorably discharged on December 20, 1850, at San Luis Rey and immediately looked around for something to do.

At first, Hinton was employed as a civilian wagon master on the Army's San Diego-to-Fort Yuma freight run.

At the same time, it would appear, he also bought an interest in a general-merchandise store in San Diego: Whaley & Crosthwaite, which with his advent was called Hinton & Whaley.

In 1853, Hinton sold his interest in that store and went to Yuma where, in partnership with George F. Hooper, he started that town's first store. The store's name was--you guessed it--Hinton, Hooper & Co. Hinton made Yuma his headquarters for most of the rest of his life, serving as Indian agent for the

Yumas (appointed May 1, 1864), as alcalde for the Second Judicial District (appointed May 1, 1864), as justice of the peace (appointed December 21, 1864), and as postmaster for Yuma (October 1, 1866, to July 2, 1869).

But, like many men in that era, he also spent a great deal of time traveling about and looking for likely investments. One of his more notable investments was the purchase of 1,400 feet of the Vulture gold mine in Arizona. His investments in Arizona and California mines, mercantile establishments, ranches, and timber land led the Prescott Arizona Miner to print on December 12, 1868, "Mr. Hinton has amassed a fortune in the Territory", which fortune is said to have been from $200,000 to $500,000. Not bad for a lad who reportedly left the army with just $800 in his pockets. When Hinton took over Rancho Agua Hedionda in 1860, he persuaded Robert Kelly to come on board as ranch foreman. As with his other investments, Hinton spent little time at Rancho Agua Hedionda, leaving Kelly to run the ranch for him.

Robert Kelly Robert Kelly had been born December 25, 1825, on the Isle of Man. When he was 16, his parents moved the family to the United States. Like many immigrants of the period, they moved about a bit, going first to New Orleans, then to St. Louis, then to Nauvoo, Illinois, then to the lead-mining town of Dodgeville, Wisconsin.

Robert seems to have been one of those men who naturally forge their own way through life without regard to convention or the opinions of others. For example, when his parents said, "We're tired of St. Louis; let's go to Illinois," Robert said, "Go ahead. I'm staying here to learn cabinet making." They went, and he stayed. After he'd done what he'd said he was going to do (a lifetime habit of his) he rejoined his family in Wisconsin.

After a year or so, Robert and his brother John returned to St. Louis, where Robert went to night school to further his formal education. In 1850, they joined a wagon train destined, via the southern route through Yuma, for California. It is thought that they both joined the army at El Paso and served in the

Carlsbad: An Unabashed History of the Village by the Sea 14

escort for the U.S.-Mexican boundary-survey party that was headed for Yuma. Service in the escort is presumably the basis for Kelly's acquaintance with Hinton.

Kelly made his way to San Diego, where he hired on as a mule driver for the government's Fort Yuma-to-San Diego freight route (then again, perhaps this is when Hinton and Kelly first met--both being mule-skinners at about the same time and for the same people).

In September 1852, ranching lured Kelly away from the mules, and he went into partnership with a Colonel Eddy on a ranch at Jamacha, just south of the El Cajon valley. (This was probably Lt. Asher R. Eddy. The "Colonel" might be a later title, as was Lt. Cave Johnson Couts' rank of "Colonel" with the state militia years after leaving the U.S. Army.) Francis Hinton's first ranch was also near Jamacha, so maybe that's when Hinton and Kelly first met.

As part owner of this Jamacha ranch, Kelly proved to be a fair and honest man in all his dealings, as well as a good ranch manager, and was soon widely respected in the area.

His reputation led to his appointment as "Judge of the Plains," in which capacity he arbitrated cattle-ownership disputes at the annual roundups. In those days, the cattle ranges between Los Angeles and San Diego were still unfenced, and the meandering bovines wandered at will. Most were branded, but brands can be altered, and there were always a number of cattle that escaped branding. It was not unusual for more than one person to claim an unbranded animal. As might be expected, Kelly's judgments were not always greeted with joy-especially among the more lawless element. A party of this latter showed its displeasure the night of July 16, 1856, by ambushing him.

Although badly wounded, he survived this little surprise parry.

well, and, as was his habit, with fairness and a sense of responsibility to everyone involved. According to his niece, Elizabeth Kelly Gunn, Kelly bought a half-interest in the ranch in about 1865.

Robert Kelly, unknown date.

This incident may have been one reason Kelly sold his share of the Jamacha ranch in 1857 and went into partnership in a San Diego store with Frank Ames. There's no reason to believe Kelly was a coward, but even the bravest of men needs a recess from Life on the Edge. And it was only a recess. Three years later, Kelly was foreman of Rancho Agua Hedionda.

Hinton and Kelly were both lucky that Kelly was an able steward, with Hinton gallivanting about the country so much and spending most of his time at Yuma.

Kelly ran Agua Hedionda, did it

Hinton’s brand for his Rancho Agua Hedionda stock. Photo by Charles Wesley Orton.

Carlsbad: An Unabashed History of the Village by the Sea 15

Matthew Kelly It's time, now, to take a little side trip, first to Wisconsin, then to the gold fields of Placer County, California, and follow the fortunes of Robert's brother Matthew, whose children would soon play their own parts in the history of Agua Hedionda and Carlsbad.

In 1851, Matthew Kelly was quietly plying his trade of blacksmith in Dodgeville, Wis., when the gold bug bit him. He was recently married, and his wife Emily was pregnant, but, like many men lured by the prospect of prospecting, Matthew figured it wouldn't take more than three or four months to become fabulously wealthy. So he left his wife with her parents and with a promise that he would send for her as soon as he was ensconced in a mansion. Three years later, according to his daughter Elizabeth Kelly Gunn, "Mother decided to go to California, too, to see why it took Father so long to strike it rich."

When his family arrived, Matthew was not rich, but he was doing well enough at his trade as a blacksmith in Placer County. For a few years, they continued on in this vein, Matthew blacksmithing and Emily running a miners' boarding house. The gold country went into a slump, and Matthew decided to look for new vistas. Thinking that he might like ranching, he went south to visit with Robert and check it out.

He liked what he saw, and went back north to pack up the family.

So, on November 3, 1868, on the day of Grant's election as president of the United States, Matthew, Emily, and their children (now there were seven) arrived at San Diego on the sidewheeler Orizaba.

They homesteaded several thousand acres adjoining the

The Judge of the Plains The office of jueces del campos, or judges of the plains, outlived the Mexican era and was continued for a dozen years, at least, after the American conquest, and was abolished, or rather fell into decadence, when cattle-raising ceased to be the prevailing industry.

The duties of the jueces were to

hold rodeos (cattle gatherings) and recojedas (horse gatherings) throughout the district; to settle all disputes and see that justice was done between owners of stock.

J.M. Guinn Historical and Biographical Record of Southern California

southeast corner of Rancho Agua Hedionda, and named their spread "Los Kiotes" (the name would be given the more appropriate Spanish spelling of "Quiotes" by a later owner, Leo “Pancho" Carrillo).

Ranching seems to have set well with Matthew and squelched his wanderlust, for he lived at the ranch until his death in 1885, at which time Los Kiotes was bequeathed to Emily.

Now we return to Hinton, Robert Kelly, and Rancho Agua Hedionda.

The May 15, 1869, Weekly Arizonan reported: "Mr. Francis Hinton, the well known member of the firm of Hinton, Hooper & Co., has returned, and proposes to make his home in San Diego county, where he has a fine ranch."

Just a little more than a year later, Hinton died of heart failure at the ranch. He bequeathed Rancho Agua Hedionda and its assets to Robert Kelly in his will.

The Marron family contested Hinton's will. They contended that

Hinton’s Death and More Legal Wrangling over Ranch Agua Hedionda

Hinton had no right to bequeath any part of Agua Hedionda to anyone for the simple reason that he didn't really own it. At the heart of the matter were the initial mortgage and the flock of other legal paperwork that had fluttered back and forth during the depression of the late fifties.

The primary claim made by the Marrons was that, although they might have signed away the land, they had not given up the grazing rights. The litigation went on for five years until Kelly deeded 362 acres of the northwestern corner of the ranch to Sylvestre Marron. A condition of this grant was that the Marrons give up all claim to all other interests--such as grazing rights--in Rancho Agua Hedionda, and a formal agreement was drawn up and signed to that effect on Feb. 27, 1875.

The Marrons weren’t the only ones to contest Hinton's will. While it was still in probate, some folks from New York came out of the

Sudden Death of Mr. Francis Hinton San Diego Union as reprinted by the Weekly Arizona Miner July 23, 1870

Our community was shocked on Sunday morning last by the intelligence of the sudden death of Mr. Francis Hinton, at his residence at Augua [sic] Hedionda. He died of disease of the heart (endocarditis) at 5 o'clock on Sunday morning, June 26th. In appearance, Mr. Hinton was a picture of health and the existence of the hidden disease had never been suspected by him. On Saturday evening before retiring, while conversing with his servant, he was noticed to place his hand upon the region of the heart two or three times, as if in pain, but he said nothing. He roused his servant early in the morning by knocking upon the wall, and calling to him. As the man entered the room Mr. Hinton said: "I'm afraid I'm dying. If I die you must go into town and tell Jim McCoy to come out and bury me." He had hardly spoken these words when he died without a struggle, or even a painful expression of countenance. Mr. McCoy and other friends immediately proceeded to the ranch and brought the body to the city, and made the necessary arrangements for the funeral, which took place on Tuesday last.

Although the notice was short, on account of the suddenness of the event, the funeral was the largest we have ever seen in San Diego. The religious services were performed by the Rev. J.S. McDonald, of the First

Presbyterian Church. Mr. Hinton was one of the oldest citizens of our county, and was universally respected and beloved. He led an irreproachable life, and was successful in his business operations beyond the majority of men. In 1850 he was associated in a general merchandising business with R.E. Raimond, now of San Francisco, and after Mr. Raimond retired from the firm of Whaley & Crosthwaite, of this city, entered the house, the business being conducted under the firm name of Hinton & Whaley. Mr. Hinton afterward disposed of his interest to Mr. Whaley, and engaged in business at Fort Yuma at the head of the house of Hinton, Hooper & Co. A few years ago he became a large owner in the famous Vulture mine in Arizona, which interest he held up to the time of his death. He was a very large land owner and stock raiser in San Diego county, and his interests were thoroughly identified with the progress of this section of the State.

His estate is estimated to be worth from $200,000 to $500,000. Mr. Hinton came to California as a soldier, having enlisted in the 2d Cavalry regiment in the Regular army, in Poughkeepsie, New York, at the outbreak of the Mexican war, and held the rank of Sergeant in his company, at the battle of Buena Vista, where he distinguished himself by his gallant conduct.

Carlsbad: An Unabashed History of the Village by the Sea 16

wainscoting and claimed that Francis Hinton was really the longlost Abram Hornbeck of Clinton, New York, who had disappeared in 1847. (Other sources say his real name was Dewitt Ten Eyck Hornbeck, or maybe Abraham T.D. Hoornbeck, of Roundout Village, Ulster County [or maybe Dutchess County], New York. See what a web we weave when we first begin to deceive? People like Hinton drive historians bonkers.) These New Yorkers said they were Hinton's rightful heirs and that they were entitled to the whole kit and kaboodle--mines, land, and Agua Hedionda. On October 13, 1871, the court awarded the Hornbecks everthing in Hinton's estate except RanchoAgua Hedionda, which went to Robert Kelly.

In 1886, the Marrons came out with legal guns blazing again. This time, they said they had the right to pay off the old $6,000 debt and regain possession of the ranch. They may have had a point. A special federal land commission had in 1872 made it clear that Agua Hedionda was, as far as the federal government was concerned, the property of the Marrons.

Unfortunately for their claim, they had signed that fateful 1875 agreement, ceding all interests in the ranch. The matter came to trial in April 1887, and was settled in Kelly's favor.

Robert Kelly’s Later Years Robert Kelly was a bachelor. It is said he never married because his intended bride, with whom he was deeply in love, had been kidnapped in 1851 by Apaches outside Yuma.

Perhaps it was his lack of an immediate family (aside from his brother's) that caused Robert Kelly to spread kindness about him. Or, maybe it was just his nature.

Whatever the reason, Kelly was known from Los Angeles to San Diego and from the coast into the mountains as a fair and responsible man.

In 1888, two years before his

LAST WILL AND TESTAMENT OF FRANCIS HINTON Made at Maricopa Wells, Arizona August 10, 1867 I give and bequeath to Robert Kelley [sic] at preset [sic] in my employ on the Ranch of Agua Hedionda in San Diego county, State of California, my Ranch of Agua Hedionda, together with all the cattle thereon belonging to me and branded with my branding iron thus [drawing of brand]; also all my manadas, colts, horses, and mules with my brand.

Also, Three (320) Hundred and Twenty acres of school land, located adjoining the Rancho of Agua Hedionda.

I hereby appoint and name as Executors and Administrators of this my last will and testament, Robert Kelley and James McCoy, both of San Diego county and State of California. (signed) Francis Hinton, Signed in presence of P. W. Smith P.R. Brady.

On the 18th ult. the will was admitted to probate. W.H. Cleveland, Esq. has been appointed attorney for absent heirs.

As printed in the San Diego Union, July 21, 1870 death, Kelly was described in the San Diego County yearbook as "one of the public spirited men of the county... [who] has contributed liberally to every movement intended to advance the public interest." One of these contributions was the gift of 40 acres he owned in San Diego to entice the California Southern Railroad to lay track there.

He also allowed the railroad the right of way through coastal Rancho Agua Hedionda so the railroad's "surf line" could be built to the north. Kelly was also liked and respected by the Indians, who considered him a "patron" or father figure of sorts. They often came to him for advice and counsel.

Robert Kelly died on November

19, 1890. Because he had no family of his own, and Matthew had died in 1885, the ranch passed into the possession of his nine nephews and nieces: Minnie Lillian Borden, Elizabeth Anna Gunn, Matthew Edward Kelly, Robert J. Kelly, Charles Kelly, William Sherman Kelly, John Lincoln Kelly, Francis Jane Pritchard, and Mary Emma Squires.

The Division of Rancho Agua Hedionda

Raymond Chandler would have found the Kelly heirs boring, if not unbelievable. Here we have nine nephews and nieces, many of them married, who have been bequeathed a 13,000-acre ranch, and none of them started a fight over it. There was no backstabbing, neither literally nor figuratively. They held the land in common until about 1896 and made decisions about its maintenance and use collectively.

One of these decisions was to sell a parcel of about 500 acres in 1894.

Economic times were tough. The bank where the family kept most of its money had closed, and the heirs had a need for some cash. They sold this parcel to an S. W. Thorpe of Los Angeles, who later sold it to O.W. Thum. (For what it's worth, Thum was the holder of the patent for Tanglefoot Sticky Flypaper.) This piece of property was commonly known as "the Thum land," (spelled "Thumb" on John Kelly's later plat).

The decision was made at about that time to divide the land into 11 parcels--one for each heir and two to be held in common. John Kelly surveyed the property in 1895 and drew up a map that showed the division, each parcel being designated by a letter of the alphabet. The pieces of property were not equal in acreage, but they were equal in livestock-raising quality (water availability, pasturage). Kelly's map shows one more attempt at changing the name of the ranch (recall that Marron referred to it as Rancho San

Carlsbad: An Unabashed History of the Village by the Sea 17

The Kelly heirs with their mother. Standing (1-r): John Lincoln Kelly, Minnie Lilly Borden, Francis Jane Pritchard, and Robert Kelly. Sitting (I-r): Mary Emma Squires, Elizabeth Kelly Gunn, Emily Porter Kelly (mother), Matthew Edward Kelly, William Sherman Kelly, and Charles Kelly.

Francisco, rather than Agua Hedionda). Kelly's name for the outfit was "Lake at Mourn of Agua Hedionda."

The plan was to hold a drawing to see who would get which piece of property. This was done--slips of paper bearing the letter designations were tossed into a hat and each heir drew a slip, with the exception of Minnie and her husband W.W. Borden, as is explained in a manuscript left by one of the participants, William Sherman Kelly: "It took about two years to get Uncle Robert's estate probated. The brothers and sisters who were owners now were using the grant as one big farm, each one had some cattle and a few horses and things went along smoothly.

“It was about the first of 1894 that there was talk of dividing it so each one could run their own part and improve to suit themselves. We started by running the section lines both ways, making the land into half-mile squares.

"We all knew the land very well and most of the work was done at home on the family table, cutting the ranch into 11 pieces as near even as we could. There was the one piece, Lot H, down at the railroad that was up for sale. This piece had 1708 acres that was to be company land,

and each one would get an even share when it was sold. The other piece was the hill known as the Calavera. This hill had a value as a stone quarry and belonged to us all.

The other nine parts were mapped to show where they were. Then there were numbers [sic] given each lot and each one agreed to take what he drew from a hat, that held the nine small tickets, with the same numbers as each parcel of land had.

Will say it worked out very well, and each one had their own piece of land, and could sell it or keep it as they wished.

"My eldest brother Matt drew the piece where the old ranch house stands, which suited him nicely as he was married and had quite a family of children. Sister Minnie had her place before the balance of the place was divided. She was married and had her family started.

This was after Uncle Robert had died, and the brothers and sisters were willing she should have the piece she wanted of 1000 acres which would be about the acreage of each one's share when divided.

“The public road [El Camino Real] ran through the grant in a rather crooked fashion. We made each piece that joined the road, the boundary of said piece, so the road could be fenced on either side to make a road through the ranch and then there would not be any gates to be kept shut. This plan has worked very well as each one had some stock, and they could not get on the roadway unless the fence got broken down. There were a few pieces that

In 1891, W.W. Borden, Carlsbad’s pioneer journalist and newspaper owner, painted this water color of the Los Kiotes valley for William Sherman Kelly. The house in the foreground is the second ranch house. The house in the background is the first one, which was built in 1868 by Matthew Kelly.

Photo by Charles Wesley Orton.

Carlsbad: An Unabashed History of the Village by the Sea 18

did not join this roadway, but I suppose there was some trouble for them too.

"It was the year 1911 that Lot H was sold. The price was $125 per acre which makes $213,000. The money was not all paid on the first payment and by the time the last payment with the interest was paid, it amounted to $215,000. This money was divided among the 8 owners. Sister Minnie did not share in this as she agreed when she got her 1000 acres before the others got their pieces that she would not claim any more of the estate. But I know that several of the heirs remembered her when the sale was made, and I believe she got most as much as the others did, which is as it should be."

An amazing family, the Kellys.

The Los Kiotes ranch house as it appeared in 1899 after renovations.

The Carlsbad Choo-Choo Chugs into Town, and John Frazier Digs a Well against All Advice During the last few years of Robert Kelly's life, some things were stirring just outside the boundaries of Rancho Agua Hedionda.

One of Carlsbad's greatest natural resources has been a slightly greater-than-average number of men and women who have run counter to conventional wisdom and said, "Oh, yeah? Watch me!" when told that something couldn't be done. One of these men was John A. Frazier, without whom there might never have been a Carlsbad, California.

There might have been another town, maybe called Stinking Water, but probably not "Carlsbad." The reason will become clear shortly.

The Coming of the Railroad From our schoolday history lessons, most of us are familiar with the story of the first transcontinental railroad and how the golden spike was driven at Promontory, Utah, to celebrate the joining of the eastward-bound and westward-

bound sections. What most of us were not taught in those dull dateand-name-memorization sessions were the more interesting facts of the railroad expansion: the greed, double dealing, back stabbing, treachery, land grabbing, and underthe-table payoffs to members of Congress.

One of the more vulpine of the railroad magnates was California's own C.P. Huntington, of whom the nicest thing said was that he had never been known to steal a red-hot stove. Huntington was the driving force behind the Southern Pacific Railroad.

Railroad companies sprouted overnight, sold millions of dollars worth of stock, and disappeared.

Others laid a few miles of track, then went bankrupt or fell prey to the machinations of the larger, more powerful railroad companies. It was a free-enterprise free-for-all that ruined many and enriched a few, and which was directly responsible for the railroads not making it to Carlsbad: An Unabashed History of the Village by the Sea 19

southern California until long after they could have.

If the railroad battles were to be fought today, the language manglers of the business community would probably call the whole thing a "shakeout." The smaller railroads that were not driven out of business were gobbled up by the larger railroads until there were only a handful of railroad companies ruling the silver rails across the country. In southern California, the giants were the Southern Pacific and the Atchison, Topeka, and Santa Fe railroad, known affectionately for years as just the Santa Fe. These two companies would fight for years in contention over which company would get which route through which canyon--fights that sometimes were decided in Congress; sometimes in the canyons themselves; and sometimes by clever faits accompli.

The first train that chugged past the site of the future Carlsbad did so on track laid by the California

With the advent of a national rail system, emigration to once-distant locales such as Carlsbad, Calif., was made easier, faster, and cheaper. This train of the period was photographed at the Los Angeles depot. Photo courtesy Santa Fe Southern Pacific.

Southern Railroad, a "paper company" of the Santa Fe Coast Line (also known as the "surf line").

Mike Martin, special representative in the Santa Fe public relations department, explained the situation in a telephone conversation with the author of this immortal work: "The first railroad through Carlsbad--the only railroad through Carlsbad--was originally built in 1882. It went from National City through San Diego, up through Escondido Junction, to Fallbrook Junction [which is really today’s Oceanside--auth.], to Fallbrook, Temecula, San Jacinto, East Riverside, then up to San Bernardino, and then eventually to Barstow, then points east. It was constructed by the California Southern Railroad Company. The line from National City to East Riverside was completed on August 31, 1882.

"The California Southern Railroad Company was a paper company established to build on behalf of the Santa Fe--not to be named the Santa Fe, because if it had been named the Santa Fe in its charter there would have been strong opposition by the Southern Pacific. Just about all the railroads in Southern California that eventually became part of the Santa Fe system were paper railroads that

were underwritten by the Santa Fe but had funny names."

When asked about the Arizona Eastern Railroad, which has been thought by some to have passed through Carlsbad, Martin explained that the Arizona Eastern never got anywhere near the town: "The Arizona Eastern, which is now the San Diego and Imperial Valley Railroad, and was once called the San Diego and Arizona Eastern, ran from San Diego to El Centro. It is actually a former part of the Southern Pacific system. It ran from San Diego east, down through Mexico, then up to E1 Centro."

There is no record of the first train to run past or stop at Carlsbad, but it is known that the trains ran irregularly until November 1885.

John Frazier Digs a Well There was no Carlsbad in 1882; not even a town. Where Carlsbad now basks happily in the sun there was only chaparral and brush and a 126.89-acre homestead owned by a fellow named Lafayette Tunnison.

Tunnison was not having a good time. There was no water on his land. To get water, he had to go three miles to Marron Gorge, and he was getting pretty tired of the whole situation.

When John A. Frazier came down from Los Angeles one day in Carlsbad: An Unabashed History of the Village by the Sea 20

1883 and offered to take the place off his hands, Tunnison hesitated only long enough to get the price up to $1,200. Then he lit out for greener (and, one would suppose, wetter) pastures. Frazier didn't see water as a problem. The solution was simple, he said. All he had to do was dig a well. His neighbors told him he was crazy. He'd never find fresh water so close to the ocean. It couldn't be done. Whether Frazier had special knowledge or was just plain contrary (or maybe only optimistic) is a debate better left for some lazy Sunday afternoon. What is certain is that he struck pure, soft, fresh water (one report says he hit it at 400 feet; another, at 510 feet). He dug another well nearby and at 423 feet came upon a reservoir of mineral water.

Frazier erected a wooden tower for storing the regular water and pumped the mineral water into a barrel near the railroad tracks. The trains started stopping for water at his tower and the stop became known as "Frazier's Station. " When a locomotive halted for steamengine refreshment, the passengers descended for their own refreshment--to stretch their legs, get some fresh air, and imbibe dippers full of Frazier's mineral water. It was offered free by a sign that read, "alight, drink, and be happy."

If contemporary accounts of train rides in the nineteenth century are to be believed (and there's no reason they shouldn't be), any kind of liquid that would counteract the effects of blowing cinders, dust, and smoke on a person's interior would be welcome. But Frazier's water must still have had something extra.

Before long, his mineral spring was known across the country as something special. Frazier, himself, is said to have claimed that the water cured him of a long-standing stomach and kidney disorder--or maybe it was rheumatism.

Whatever, it was pronounced by some of its samplers to have restorative properties, that it cured

the sickly, invested the drinker with vitality, and prolonged life.

Frazier had the water analyzed by two laboratories, one in Los Angeles and one in Chicago. Their reports were about the same: Silica ......... 6.0 parts per million Iron Oxide and Alumina ... 5.0 ppm Calcium Carbonate ...... 45.0 ppm Calcium Phosphate ..... 448.8 ppm Calcium Chloride ............ none Magnesium Chloride ......... none Magnesium Carbonate ....... none Sodium Carbonate ........... none Magnesium Sulphate ..... 15.2 ppm Sodium Sulphate ........ 31.1 ppm Sodium Chloride ...... 2088.0 ppm This chemical and mineral content was quite close to that of the water from Well No. 9 at the famous

Karlsbad, Bohemia spas. "Ah, hah!" you might be saying--but it hasn't happened yet, and it won't until the next section in this history.

In the meantime, the demand for Frazier's "Genuine Mineral Water Good for Young and Old Alike" grew and grew and grew. A chain of "fountains" in the East began to distribute it, and Frazier built a bottling facility so the water could be shipped to them.

With this kind of publicity, it was only a matter of time before Frazier's Station would attract health-seekers who wanted to set up housekeeping in the area. There was also the small matter of the southern California land boom of 1885-88, which was not to leave the area around Frazier's Station unaffected.

In 1986, there was, surprisingly, a surviving bottle of Frazier’s mineral water. It was kept on display by Kay Christiansen at Alt Karlsbad. Photo by Tom Sliwa.

A Short History of Carlsbad Newspapers A newspaper is near the top of the list of the several things a place needs before it can, without blushing, call itself a town. Carlsbad's first newspaper, The Sea Lion, was born during the land boom and lasted just about as long.

The next newspaper to call Carlsbad its home was W.W. Borden's The Plain Truth. Borden started his journalistic career in 1885 at Barham (now a part of San Marcos) with Our Paper, a religion-oriented paper that

he later called The Plain Truth. When the Borden house burned down in 1893, Borden moved his family and operation to Carlsbad. He changed the name of the paper to The Spirit of Love in 1900.

The local journalistic scene took a recess from 1922, when Borden ceased printing The Spirit of Love, until 1925, when William A. Maxwell established Carlsbad's first weekly, the Carlsbad Champion. Maxwell borrowed Borden's slogan, "Independent but not neutral," for the Champion. Sometime before

1927, Maxwell sold the paper to E.B. DuPree, who sold it to Judge Fred W. Mitchell on January 1, 1928. Mitchell changed the name to the Carlsbad Journal.

The Journal stayed in Mitchell's hands until June 1949, when he sold it to William "Buzz" Garland.

The Journal was then bought by North Coast Publishers of Encinitas, which sold it to an Eastern-based publishing group, which closed the paper in the early 1990s.

William Webster Borden, Pioneer Journalist If it hadn't been for William Webster Borden and his three newspapers, much of Carlsbad's early history would be a complete mystery with names, events, and facts lost in time.

Born in Carroll County, Missouri, in 1858, Borden emigrated to California with his parents, who homesteaded a section of land at Santa Ana when he was 11. In 1874, the Borden family pulled up stakes once more and came to light on a homestead

south of Agua Hedionda Lagoon, "up the canyon on the north side of the valley in back of Ponto." The property has been for years identifiable by a large pepper tree that William Webster planted by accident. He wanted a hitching post and used a limb from a pepper tree to make one. He planted it upside down so it wouldn't grow into a tree, but it became a tree anyway. The Borden homestead was also the site of the Victoria Oil well, drilled in 1911.

In 1881, W.W.B. (as he called

himself in the newspapers) married Minnie L. Kelly, whereupon he left the old family homestead and took his new wife to Barham (which would become part of San Marcos). There, he engaged in school teaching. He had never had any formal training to be a teacher, he just took a proficiency examination While teaching and living at Barham, Borden started his first newspaper, a monthly called Our Paper, with the assistance of his brother-in-law William Sherman

Carlsbad: An Unabashed History of the Village by the Sea 21

Kelly. It was largely a religionoriented paper, but also reported such local events as Borden found interesting.

In 1885, Borden changed the name of his paper to The Plain Truth and, although Borden never overlooked an opportunity to comment with religious overtones on the world's events, the mundane editorial content outweighed the sacred.

Eight years later, the Borden residence in Barham burned to the ground, and the family moved to a house on Fifth Street in Carlsbad.

Borden's printing press was nearly destroyed in the fire, so publication of the paper was suspended while he rebuilt it. When publication was resumed in 1900, under the name The Spirit of Love, it had the distinction of being printed on

what was by anyone's definition a home-made press! (Note: In the 1850s, San Diego's first newspaper, the Herald, got off to a slow start because some parts of the press had sunk at sea. That wouldn't have stopped William Webster Borden!)

By the time the paper was coming out again, the Bordens had built a house on their part of Rancho Agua Hedionda, and the house on Fifth Street was used as the newspaper offices. Another of Borden's mild eccentricities was revealed in the color scheme of this structure: the roof was red and the window trim was done in purple, yellow, and green. W.W.B. liked colorful surroundings.

He also liked the idea of the horseless carriage. He was known to walk when other people would ride a horse, because he didn't believe in

enslaving animals. Combining this principle with his penchant for tinkering, Borden decided to build his own automobile--chassis, body, engine, and all. The work was commenced at Charles Kelly's livery stable in San Diego, but the car was never finished. In May 1905, Borden offered through an advertisement in his paper to sell the engine: "W. W. Borden has a 4horse gasoline engine for sale at his office in Carlsbad, built for automobile but never used. Will sell at half cost." The Borden family didn't get their first automobile until 1919.

In 1916, Borden moved his newspaper operations to his house on Chestnut Avenue and continued to publish The Spirit of Love until 1922, two years before his death.

Excerpts from Borden’s Newspapers, 1885-1920 Trains not running regularly yet.

Our Paper, June 5, 1884 San Diego has through trains running regularly.

Plain Truth, Nov. 19, 1885 Railroad fare dropped so low several tickets sold to Kansas City for 90 cents.

Plain Truth, March 16, 1886 Telephone line between Stewart station and Escondido being built nearly 14 miles. It will not only connect Stewart station with Escondido, but with San Diego.

Plain Truth, Sept. 2, 1886 Saturday afternoon while August Hett was attempting to ride an unbroken horse to water, the animal started to run, and thinking it would be safest to jump off, the gentleman did so, but on striking the ground his left leg was broken just above the ankle joint. The ends of the broken bones being driven out through the flesh. He was carried

by M. Mahr to his home, a physican called from Escondido. The gentleman not wishing to undertake the setting of the injured limb without

assistance, went to Valley Center and returned with Dr. Hastings. It was past midnight before their work was done, but in the meantime the sufferer bore his pain patiently.

Plain Truth, Sept. 2, 1886 August Hett, the man whom we mentioned as having had his leg broken a few weeks ago, has since had to have the limb amputated.

Plain Truth, Sept. 23, 1886 Charles Kelly has a remarkable hen.

She disappeared on Dec. 25, 1886, leaving a brood of young chickens behind her. It was supposed that none but some hungry coyote could tell of where she had gone. But day before yesterday, just one month from the time of her disappearance, she surprised her owners by coming home again. If those coyotes had not wickedly killed and carried away 17 other chickens for him on that same unfortunate day, doubtless Charlie would ask the poor coyote's pardon for having wrongly accused him.

Plain Truth, Jan. 27, 1887 J. S. Borden received the patent on his revolving dining table. W. W.B. and Carlsbad: An Unabashed History of the Village by the Sea 22

family got the first one he put on the market. Ours is the highest priced size and we do not regret the $15 we paid for it.

Plain Truth February 1, 1891 The word kid is fast becoming an accepted word. The other day a parrot called out "Hello! Hello, kid!"

The dictionaries will perhaps be the next to adopt the slang term.

Plain Truth, April 1, 1891 Our offer of our paper for vegetables, etc. is still good.

Plain Truth July 16, 1891 Roundtrip tickets reduced to $2.50 one way $2.25 from San Marcos to San Diego.

Plain Truth August 16, 1891 Can it be true? Dr. LeBox experimenting with the Hertz waves discovered it possible to send electric waves by reflector through the air several miles strong enough to explode powder or dynamite. Military experts say it will abolish all wars as you blow up any battery, fort or battleship with its own powder.

Spirit of Love, Aug. 1903

Railroad shortened the name Carlsbad station to Carl, but petitions are out to have it changed right back.

Spirit of Love, June 1907.

The Bryon family now have a telephone.

Spirit of Love, Oct. 30, 1908 Mr. Gainer occupies the Solander cottage, has embraced the Hindu religion and has traveled twice to India to learn more of its philosophy.

Spirit of Love, December 1909 W. S. Kelly has learned to run his new auto fairly well but says his family are shy of riding with him yet.

Spirit of Love, July 1911 A law passed in county requiring all travelers to have lights on their vehicles.

Spirit of Love, October 1911 Camp of the contractors building the state highway on the Encinitas to Oceanside section is now in Carlsbad.

Will have to pipe water from Oceanside as the wells here are not good enough.

Spirit of Love, November 1913 Laying of concrete on this section on state highway is about done.

Spirit of Love, March 1914 Water is here in Carlsbad. We have seen it with our own eyes.

Spirit of Love, Dec. 1914 R. G. Chase has put in a small stock of groceries, etc. in connection with the post office to be increased as demands may require.

Spirit of Love, August 1915 Albert Dawson, brother of George Dawson, was riding on the back of W. Dillo's motorcycle from Carlsbad to Sorrento when near Del Mar they ran into a four-horse team, striking one of the lead horses, and Dawson was thrown between the horses against the wagon, killing him almost instantly.

Dillo, who was driving the motorcycle was stopped against the horse (which was killed) and broke an arm and ribs.

He will recover.

Spirit of Love, Sept. 1915 The January rains, considering their terrible effects in wreckage of property and loss of lives in the floods, must go

down in history as the worst on record in this part of the State. Even the unprecedented rains of 1884, when my records made in San Marcos showed over 36 inches of rainfall, mostly during February and the Spring months, did less damage than was inflicted by this year's storms.

Sprit of Love, Jan. 1916.

Wires are being put in to supply the fluid [electricity]. It comes in handy to be on an electric line.

Sprit of Love, April 1917

R.S. Garnett reports a contract to gather 25 carloads of "grinding pebbles" to be shipped east.

Spirit of Love, Sept. 1917 Uncle Sam's Airmen make practice cruises, are using the dry bed of the slough north of Carlsbad but soon it will rain and then what will Uncle do?

Spirit of Love, Dec. 1917 C.E. Borden lost a good cow that choked to death on a potato recently.

Spirit of Love, Oct. 1918 Passenger plane is making daily trips between San Diego and Los Angeles.

The fare is $25.00.

Spirit of Love, April 1919 Chase store purchased by E. Eymann, formerly of Olivenhain. Mr. Chase finds his truck business keeps him busy. R.G. Chase and son [Loynal] trucking day and night.

Spirit of Love, Oct. 1919 Our citizens are trying to get the Santa Fe to change the name of the railway station back to Carlsbad again, instead of Carl.

Spirit of Love, April 19, 1920 The box car that stood on the ground west of the tracks near the depot, that furnished living quarters for the former freight agent there, was destroyed by fire.

Spirit of Love, June 1921 Hark! Did you hear it? It was the airship’s mighty roar. The Borden hilltop afforded a fine view of the passing airship as W.L. Bonney accompanied by Miss Margaret Stahl flew back from National City to Los Carlsbad: An Unabashed History of the Village by the Sea 23

Angeles Tuesday morning. They were high in the air but our telescope made them seem near at hand and long in plain sight.

Spirit of Love, March 1913 Six airship passes in ten days in January! Pretty soon we won't get out of bed to see one.

Spirit of Love Jan. 1914.

Four airships were seen here in five hours and one not seen here landed in Oceanside.

Spirit of Love, Feb. 1914.

Flying machines are so common these days that we merely take a peep to see which way they are going and then forget them.

Spirit of Love, June 1915.

In the 40 years that 1 [W.W. Borden] have lived in California, I have never seen water freeze inside the house, or outside water pipes burst. This time it happened in the warmer spot where 1 live, where flowers have hitherto bloomed perpetually, most of which are now killed down as far as the surface of the ground.

Spirit of Love, Jan. 1913 Save fruit pits, nut-shells, etc. to make gas masks for our government.

Spirit of Love, Oct. 1918

Gerhard Schutte Brings the Land Boom and a New Name to Frazier’s Station Just as Charles IV is known as the father of his country, Gerhard Schutte is often called the father of Carlsbad. Born in Oldenburg, Germany, in 1839, Schutte emigrated to the United States when he was 17 and settled in Wisconsin.

After serving with the Third Wisconsin regiment during the Civil War, he returned to Wisconsin, and married Bertha Miller of Mayville.

They moved to Columbus, Nebraska. There, Schutte went into the lumber, grain, and farmequipment business. While his neighbors harvested wheat, Schutte harvested greenbacks and saved them for a dream he had of starting a community of his own, a "town of gracious homes and small farms" with the fewest possible commercial establishments.

By 1886, Schutte figured he had acquired enough capital to realize his dream. At this time, the various railroads were involved in fare wars that make the recent airline battles look like Ladies Aid teas by comparison, even allowing for inflation. It is reported that, instead of the usual $100 fare, the Schuttes paid all of one dollar for the trip

Gerhard Schutte in his Civil War uniform.

from Nebraska to San Diego on the Santa Fe railroad.

Of course, the railroads had good reason to entice prospective land buyers into their passenger coaches.

Much of the land for sale was owned by the railroads, for one thing. But, even more important, settlers along a railroad's route meant revenue to the railroad from future passenger fares and freight charges.

The Santa Fe railroad even helped Schutte choose his land.

Santa Fe employees are credited with being the first to tell him about Frazier's well and the lovely countryside surrounding it. Schutte paid a visit to Frazier's Station and agreed that it was just the place he had been looking for. He immediately wrote to a Columbus acquaintance, Samuel Church Smith, to tell about his find.

Smith was a wealthy Columbus merchant and banker. Although he was doing quite well, thank you, his oldest daughter had come down with rheumatoid arthritis, and a more benign climate than east-central Nebraska's was called for. Schutte's report of Frazier's Station (and perhaps the rumors of the mineral water's therapeutic effects) was all that Smith had been waiting for. He quickly packed up the family and joined the Schuttes at San Diego.

Schutte and Smith formed the Carlsbad Land and Mineral Water Company. Schutte was president; Smith, secretary. Two other men joined in the venture: Henry Nelson, vice president, and D. D. Wadsworth, treasurer. The company bought about 400 acres of land, including Frazier's well and land, at $40 an acre. (Frazier was happy with the deal. He'd profited by about $5,000 on the land he'd bought only three years before, and he was

named the superintendent of the new company's water works.)

The directors of the land company decided to change the name of the place from Frazier's Station to Carlsbad because of the the mineral water's chemical similarity to the water that came from Well Number 9 at Karlsbad, Bohemia (now you know the connection between the clumsy dog and Carlsbad's name!).

Schutte and company believed, correctly, that land sales would be easier if they hitched a ride on the world-famous European spa's coattails. They planned to make Frazier's well one of the primary drawing points for the community: It's one thing to live in sunny, mild California; it's quite a better thing to also have restorative, curative, lifeprolonging water right in your backyard!

Schutte, Smith, & c. got busy.

While they were having their own houses built, they planned their promotional campaign and laid out the new town. They planted rows of eucalyptus seedlings in the chaparral

Samuel Church Smith

Carlsbad: An Unabashed History of the Village by the Sea 24

Carlsbad's founders on the railroad platform near today's depot. From left to right: John Frazier, Frazier's wife, Frazier's daughter, Gerhard Schutte, Samuel Church Smith, and D. D. Wadsworth. In the background are Wadsworth's house (the twin to Schutte's) and the Hotel Carlsbad.

Note, underneath sign, faucets from which train passengers could sample the famous mineral water.

and dwarf oak to mark where the streets would be. The north-south running streets west of the railroad were named Lincoln and Washington. The north-south streets east of the railroad were numberedFirst, Second, Third, etc.--beginning with the street closest to the tracks.

The east-west running streets were given the names of trees: Pine, Oak, etc.

Seeing that these people were serious, the Santa Fe railroad started building a bona fide depot* and hired a stationmaster, John A. Fauncher, who arrived with his family on December 25, 1886, before the depot was even completed. Until he could move into his official structure, Fauncher did his job from a nearby shed. When it was finally completed, the depot was the first and, for a while, only commercial building in Carlsbad.

Measuring 24 by 64 feet, the depot housed a telegraph office, Wells Fargo office, the post office, and a general store, in addition to the railroad office. Stationmaster Fauncher was a busy fellow.

Three grand structures--only one

of which remains--were built in downtown Carlsbad in 1887. They were the Schutte and Wadsworth residences and the Carlsbad Hotel.

The Schutte house (construction cost: $9,000) is the only survivor. It is on the northeast corner of Elm Avenue and Carlsbad Boulevard,

*Contrary to popular belief the current railroad depot is not the original one. The one that now stands was built in 1907.

Carlsbad’s founders advertised their paradise world wide. This is the illustration used on the cover of a German-language pamphlet extolling the virtues of the California Carlsbad. Courtesy San Diego Historical Society.

Carlsbad: An Unabashed History of the Village by the Sea 25

and is now known as Neiman's Restaurant. The Wadsworth house, built in the same Queen Anne style as the Schutte house and situated just to the north of it, was razed in the 1950s because it had fallen into irredeemable disrepair.

The grandest of these three

Many of the eucalyptus trees planted by Carlsbad’s founders to mark future streets are still standing, as are these on Grand Avenue. Photo by Tom Sliwa.

edifices was the Hotel Carlsbad.

Four stories tall, with balconies circling the first two, it had 85 guest rooms. A night's lodging cost $1.50.

The rate for a week ranged from seven to nine dollars. The hotel's management didn't scrimp on the promotion any more than it had on

its architecture. In its brochures, the hotel called itself "Nature's Sanitarium,� where Carlsbad's famous mineral waters were to be had for the asking. Using the timehonored rhetorical device of politicians (and ad writers) since their invention, the brochure asks, "Is this not as near Eden as any the world has seen?" Then, before any lurking smart-aleck can come up with any other answer, the brochure replies to itself: "The Carlsbad waters come forth from the bosom of Nature. Already many arise and call the American Carlsbad blessed."

Sort of a non sequitur, to be sure; but they made their point. And people listened. And people bought.

In 1887, a choice lot in Carlsbad could be had for anywhere between $175 and $500. By December, the town had grown to a respectable size. According to an article in the San Diego Daily Bee, "No town on the California Southern Railroad is

Carlsbad co-founder Gerhard Schutte poses before his Queen Anne-style mansion at the corner of Carlsbad Boulevard and Elm Avenue shortly after its completion in 1887. Contrary to popular rumor, this house never became a bordello.

Carlsbad: An Unabashed History of the Village by the Sea 26

Two views of the Hotel Carlsbad.

Carlsbad: An Unabashed History of the Village by the Sea 27

Hotel Carlsbad’s parlor.

D.D. Wadsworth’s house (the “twin” to Schuttes, and situated right next door to the north on the same block). The Palma Hotel, built in 1910, can be seen in the background.

Carlsbad: An Unabashed History of the Village by the Sea 28

growing faster than Carlsbad.

Although it is only six months old, it has a population of two hundred, a good school with fifty pupils, a Wells Fargo Express, a post and telegraph office, a newspaper [The Sea Lion], a church [Congregational], an elegant depot, and a good hotel.”

Unfortunately, Carlsbad (and all of southern California) was riding a short-lived wave of prosperity. As early as 1888, land values were falling. The financial panic* of 1893 lowered the boom on the Great Land Boom. In 1890, there were 39 registered voters in Carlsbad. By 1894, there were only six.

All the participants in the Carlsbad Land and Mineral Water Company saw their fortunes dwindle and disappear. There is evidence that Wadsworth never lived in the great house he'd built beside Schutte's. Schutte stayed on until 1906, then moved to National City. Smith was forced to sell his property in 1895. He and his wife moved to San Diego, where they successfully ran two boarding houses.

Carlsbad co-founder Samuel Church Smith's house was not as ostentatious as those of Schutte and Wadsworth. His daughter Nellie is on the horse. A penciled notation on the back of the photo identifies the persons on the porch as, from left to right, "Uncle Frank Boone & Aunt Nann; Father (Samuel Smith) and Louise (2nd wife.)" The boy reclining in foreground is not identified.

*The governmental euphemism was yet to be invented. In those days, a lie was a lie, not an "inoperative statement." And a financial panic was just that, not a "downturn in the economy.”

The water tower that supplied mineral water to the Hotel Carlsbad and its bathhouse.

There was nothing modest about Carlsbad’s enticements to the land-boom-era property buyer, as this ad from the Feb. 6, 1888, Daily San Diegan reveals.. Courtesy San Diego Historical Society.

Carlsbad: An Unabashed History of the Village by the Sea 29

The Hotel Carlsbad burned to the ground in 1896, the victim, according to tradition, of arson by a disgruntled employee.

Carlsbad Takes a Nap For a time, Carlsbad lay quiescent, biding its time and gathering strength for the better times to come.

About the only exciting event during the next few years was the burning of the Hotel Carlsbad in 1896. The cause of the fire is unknown, but there were rumors that a disgruntled employee had decided to make things hot for the management.

There were faint stirrings now and then, primarily from outside land developers who tried to create another land boom. The townspeople watched these attempts with vague interest, but with little belief that anything great would result. They knew--if the outsiders didn't--that the times had changed and that Carlsbad's future needed more than just land promotion.

When John R. Newberry bought the rights to the famous mineral well in 1899, and built a house on Highland Drive, there was some hope that the well would once again gush a bit of prosperity back into the town. Newberry was a successful

wholesale groceryman with operations in San Francisco and Los Angeles. He planned to construct a bottling plant and a health resort, but reality fell far short of the plan.

Little water was pumped from the well, and nothing much came of the

whole thing. Another enterprise that looked good on paper was begun in 1907 by F. P. Hosp, an Oceanside nurseryman. Hosp had the idea that a bundle could be made in the railroad-tie business, and that eucalyptus trees would be perfect

Looking west along Elm Avenue in 1916. The Schutte house is in the background.

Carlsbad: An Unabashed History of the Village by the Sea 30

Rail freight destined for Carlsbad, New Mexico, often ended up at Carlsbad, California, and vice versa. Instead of training its employees to read more carefully, the Santa Fe unilaterally changed the name on the California town's depot to just "Carl." Although the local citizenry raised a fuss, their good name wasn't returned until 1924. The “Panama Cream” box on the baggage cart has nothing to do with milk. It was the brand name of bread made by the Southern California Baking Co. of San Diego.

for this purpose because they grew relatively quickly. According to his calculations, if he planted the trees five feet apart in rows that were eight feet apart, an acre would accommodate 1,082 trees.

He sold the idea to three Los Angeles businessmen* and each of

the four put up $1,500 in capital to start the Hosp Eucalyptus Company.

Hosp was to obtain the trees and do all the work. In addition, he was to guarantee that all the trees he planted would be living a year from planting, or he would replace them at his own cost. The company

purchased 219 acres of a hillside and canyon bordering the southern shoreline of Buena Vista Lagoon, and Hosp went to work. A year later, he announced that he had planted 40,000 trees on about 45 acres at a cost of $2,484.15.

The principals pumped more

*Only their surnames come down to us: McGee, Martin, and Whitaker.

Threshing grain in a field where Carlsbad village now stands. In this view to the west, the Wadsworth house is in the right background. Just left of the engine is the east gable of the Schutte house. Just above the left-hand team of horses is “Frazier’s building,” later to be Roy Chase’s store. Above and to the right of the threshing machine is the railroad depot.

Carlsbad: An Unabashed History of the Village by the Sea 31

money into the deal, with the firm belief that they would soon receive a sizable return on their investment.

Unfortunately, eucalyptus wood does not make good lumber for anything, much less railroad ties.

When green, the wood is soft. When dry, it's rock hard. Even with a pile driver, you'd have a difficult time driving a spike through the stuff.

Much of Hosp Grove has disappeared under the onslaught of residential development, but 27 acres (primarily a steep hillside along the west side of Monroe Street) are a city park, given to the city by the Kamar Construction Company in 1972.

While Hosp was demurely planting trees, the Santa Fe railroad was throwing a mild hissy fit over the name of the town. Not that they thought Carlsbad was a poor name, mind you; but because Carlsbad, New Mexico, was also on their route, which caused confusion once in a while. Sometimes, goods destined for the California Carlsbad would end up in the New Mexico Carlsbad, and vice versa. In an attempt to put a stop to this problem, the railroad chopped the "SBAD" from the California town's name in 1908, making it "Carl," and put new signs on the depot to make it official. The residents were none too happy with this unilateral move by the railroad and circulated petitions, but the railroad paid no attention. It came to a stalemate. As far as Carlsbad's citizens were concerned, the railroad could call the depot "Carl" all it wanted to; the town was still "Carlsbad", thank you. (The railroad relented, finally, in 1924, and gave the depot back its rightful name.)

Another case of Carlsbad getting kicked by know-better outsiders when it wasn't looking happened on April 15, 1909, when the government jerked the post office out of town. Not enough business to justify it, said the know-it-alls in Washington. For the next two years, Carlsbad's residents had to go to Oceanside for their mail. (The post

office was reopened in Carlsbad in 1911 and Carlsbad has had its own post office ever since.)

From the end of the land boom until the rumblings of the Great War were heard from Europe, those residents who stayed in Carlsbad did anything necessary to hang in there.

One such enterprising person was Clint Culver, son of Alonzo J.

Culver. Alonzo had built the Schutte house and in the same year (1887) had built a somewhat less flamboyant, but still elegant, house for himself on the southeast corner of Highland Drive and Oak Avenue.

Alonzo Culver was one of a seemingly extinct species: the master carpenter. The lumber of his house is joined with hand-made

This is a circular used by John Newberry to promote Carlsbad’s mineral water after he bought the well in 1899.

Carlsbad: An Unabashed History of the Village by the Sea 32

square nails and wooden pegs, and is as solid today as it was when first completed. Culver's attention to detail is unheard of in our time; for example, the doors are so well balanced that even now they close and latch with the merest touch.

Clint Culver was a photographer and a well-liked person in Carlsbad, although apparently a bit eccentric.

His mode of transportation was a bullet-riddled Pierce Arrow that raised all sorts of conjecture. One of these rumors was that Clint was involved in a ring that smuggled Chinese farm laborers from Mexico to the San Pedro area. This rumor appears to have been substantiated when Clint was arrested in 1914 for people smuggling and sentenced to two years at San Quentin.

On the more mundane side, the agricultural economy of the Carlsbad area was changing from one based on cattle to one based on growing vegetables. One of the pioneer truck-garden operations was that started by Frank and Otillia (nee Ortega) Carpenter, who moved to Carlsbad from San Marcos in 1907.

They bought 33 acres and planted it in beans, peas, and lettuce. The modern boundaries of the farm are Jefferson, Tamarack, Adams, and Magnolia streets.

Although they sold some of their produce in Los Angeles, most was shipped east by rail.

Things started picking up a bit in 1914, when the South Coast Land Company was formed by William G. Kerckoff, C.A. Canfield, and Henry Huntington. This company bought all the remaining assets of the old Carlsbad Land and Water Company as well as quite a bit of other coastal land to the south, and drilled a number of wells in the San Luis Rey river valley.

This year also saw the birth of an enterprise that illustrates the doggedness and imagination of Carlsbad's residents in the aftermath of the land boom crash.

The Famous Railroad Tie Shortage The Hosp venture into growing eucalyptus trees wasn't an isolated pipe dream. There is evidence that the idea was brought to the area by Australian eucalyptus-tree salesmen shortly after the turn of the century. They had a good sales pitch, and the timing was just right. The U.S. Forester, Gifford Pinchot, had stated that the U.S. was running out of trees. Because of this forecast, President Teddy Roosevelt was urging the federal government to put a halt to much of the lumbering going on, and the ban was being seriously considered.

It came to naught, as they would have said in those days, but before the scare was over the Santa Fe Railroad bought Rancho San Dieguito (where Rancho Santa Fe is today) and planted 4,000 acres of eucalyptus trees so they could grow their own crop of railroad ties. Like the Hosp company, the Santa Fe had a problem with the trees, but it was a somewhat different problem, as Ed Fletcher reports in his memoirs. At a banquet in 1911, Santa Fe vicepresident W.E. Hodges took

Fletcher aside and poured forth his tale of woe, which was summarized by Fletcher as follows: "[The railroad company] had purchased San Dieguito Rancho, planted 4,000 acres to eucalyptus trees, the intention being to raise their own railroad ties in anticipation of the expected shortage and high cost of railroad ties. For a number of years the railroad company had spent thousands of dollars annually in the planting and care of the eucalyptus trees on the ranch.

They had failed to realize that it only rains 9 or 10 inches annually on San Dieguito Rancho; the trees were starving for water; very few had grown to any appreciable size and also the scare of high priced railroad ties was over for they could later buy railroad ties, Oregon fir, at 12-1/2 cents each by the million and by paying 9 cents or 10 cents more and dipping same in creosote, the ties were more durable than any eucalyptus ties, the cost of which would exceed $1.00 per tie at least to grow."

The Great Flood of 1916 washed away the Southern Pacific tracks.

Carlsbad: An Unabashed History of the Village by the Sea 33

Because of the war in Europe, the mines in Arizona and Nevada could no longer import from Belgium a special hard, round, blue stone that was used in milling ore. Frank Carpenter is credited with finding similar stones on Carlsbad's beaches. He and his sons Rob and Roy, with Albert Kreutzcamp, gathered these stones and shipped them by the carload from Farr Station (just a little south of today's Cannon Road) to the mines.

Nature played its usual tricks with the countryside in the years before the Roaring Twenties. In 1915-16, San Diego County experienced one of the worst droughts in its recorded history.

Crops failed and livestock died for lack of water. Then, as if to make up for the joke, Mother Nature opened the heavens and began one of the worst floods ever inflicted on the area. The rain started on a Friday in January 1916 and continued unabated for five days. Bridges and roads were washed away, as were houses and

Alonzo Culver, builder of the Schutte and Wadsworth houses, built this house for himself on Highland Drive and Oak Avenue. His son Clint was said to have used the basement for hiding smuggled Chinese laborers, guarding them with a chained monkey.

quite a few of the livestock population. When the rain stopped, everyone hurried to repair the damage. Nature watched with interest from the wings. About three days later, she figured things had

been fixed enough for her encore and let loose with another deluge that wiped it all out again.

After the flood, ships from the north and the south docked almost daily at the Oceanside municipal

Roy Chase’s store in the old “Frazier’s Building” in 1917. In the picture, left to right, Roy and Idella Chase, their daughter Dolores, Grace Carpenter, and Mr. Roberts, an employee Carlsbad: An Unabashed History of the Village by the Sea 34

pier, leaving supplies and food for the railroad and the residents of North County. The flood caused hundreds of thousands of dollars worth of property damage and killed three people in the North County area.

(For some reason, although ships from San Diego were coming to Oceanside, the first mail to reach Oceanside after the flood was

brought overland. The Reliable Auto Line delivered the mail as far as it could go, which was Sorrento Flats. Men from Oceanside crossed the flats in a boat borrowed from the South Coast Land Company, rowed the mail back to the north side of the water, and walked the rest of the way with the mail on their backs.)

Oceanside suffered more damage than did Carlsbad. Large pine trees

from Palomar Mountain swirled down the San Luis Rey River. These trees probably helped in the destruction of the concrete San Luis Rey highway bridge. The San Luis Rey railroad spur was washed away and buried in the sand of the beach.

The South Coast Land Company's offices and pumping station were washed away.

What (or Who) Really Started the Great Flood of 1916?

Most historians say the culprit in the Great Flood of 1916 was Mother Nature.

According to this theory, warm rains in the mountains caused the snow to melt more quickly than usual. This may be so, as far as it goes, but where did the rain come from? Many people at the time, and a good many since, have pointed to one Charles Hatfield as the Rain

King who saturated San Diego County.

Hatfield showed up at a San Diego City Council meeting on December 13, 1915. He told the gathered city fathers that he was a "moisture accelerator" and that for a measly $10,000 he would conjure up enough rain to fill Morena and Otay reservoirs to the brim before December 20, 1916. Guaranteed. No fillee, no

money.

If a drowning man will grab at straws, what will a parched man grab at? San Diego's city council gave Hatfield the goahead, with the proviso that, if rain did fall, Hatfield would have to present incontrovertible proof that it fell from his efforts, and not Nature's.

Hatfield immediately took off for Morena reservoir, 60

Charles Hatfield mixes up his rainmaking brew (left) atop the tower (right) he built at Moreno Reservoir for his rainmaking exercise. Photos courtesy San Diego Historical Society.

Carlsbad: An Unabashed History of the Village by the Sea 35

miles east of San Diego. There, he built a 20-foot-tall tower on which he constructed an eightfoot-tall platform on which he settled some large galvanized vats. Into these vats he poured a witch's brew of chemicals and set them alight. The very next day, the rain began. So far, so good; but, perhaps goaded by gibes from the Peanut Gallery of onlookers, he mixed up another batch--double strength. The rain intensified. Buildings, bridges, trees, cattle, and ranches were soon making swift, involuntary trips to the Pacific, and the city fathers cried "Uncle!" But Hatfield said, "If you think that's sumthin', try this!" and mixed up a triple whammy. On January 26, 1916, the Otay dam broke, sending a 40-foot-high wave of water--13 billion

gallons--rampaging down the Otay Valley.

Enough was enough, in some people's opinion, and a necktie party rode out to the tower to show their appreciation for a job too well done. Hatfield eluded them and on February 4, 1916, splashed into town to collect his reward. The city attorney said Hatfield hadn't earned the fee.

The entire state was under water.

"Of course it is," Hatfield replied.

"My chemicals get around a lot."

This cogent argument was of no avail, and Hatfield sued to get his money. A year later, the city made an offer: They would pay Hatfield $1,800 if he would accept liability for the propertydamage lawsuits against the city.

Hatfield wasn't stupid. The lawsuits totaled $3.5 million. He gave up on trying to collect his

fee and left town .But he didn't leave the rainmaking business.

His talents were called for in other parts of California and as far away as Dawson City and Honduras. He was never able to equal his San Diego performance, however, saying later, "This was a phenomenon I was never able to repeat ...the most potent that I ever made."

Some years later, Hatfield retired from the moistureaccelerating business and became a sewing-machine salesman in Glendale. He resurfaced, carrying an umbrella, 40 years after the great flood, to attend the premiere of the movie The Rainmaker in 1956, which was loosely based on him. He died at Pearblossom, California, in 1958, taking the secret of his rainmaking brew with him.

Wildcatters in Carlsbad: The Victoria/La Cost Oil Well Artesian water reported from the Victoria Oil Well.

Spirit of Love, May 1911 While Carlsbad lay somnolent at the turn of the century, the rest of San Diego County was succumbing to oil fever. Oil had been struck up north, and no one could think of a logical reason why oil shouldn't be found in San Diego, as well. Amateur geologists and "doodlebug" inventors* swore there was a huge, elongate pool of oil stretching from Oceanside down to Tijuana.

The professional geologists pooh-poohed the idea. In a *A doodle-bug was a device that purportedly located subterranean oil or water; in short, pseudo-scientific dowsing.

None are known to have worked.

March 16, 1916, letter to William Clayton of San Diego, Standard Oil's vice-president W.S. Miller wrote: "Dr. Starke, the head of our Geological Department... tells me that he has been all over San Diego County... and that he feels very positive indeed that the formations in that entire district would mean that there is no oil there."

Well, of course he'd say that, responded the oil-fever-infected.

Everyone knows Standard Oil is quietly buying up all the oil leases. Mrs. So-and-So says they tried to buy the drilling rights on her land. We know what they're up to!

It made no difference that later Mrs. So-and-So amended her statement to be that she only thought it had been Standard Oil. Carlsbad: An Unabashed History of the Village by the Sea 36

Victoria Oil Well down about 2300 feet. A new co. has taken over southeast of here.

Spirit of Love, Dec. 1920 By gum, the big boys weren't going to get rich at San Diego's expense!

Wildcat oil companies sprang up overnight, headed by influen-tial San Diegans (including the mayor). A newspaper ad placed by the San Diego Sorrento Oil Company is typical of the hype. Above a "Detail Section of Our Anticline and Drilling Site" is the headline, "Examine This Picture Carefully." Below the drawing, which showed that this company's well was sure to hit a huge reservoir of oil, the reader is warned that there are

only seven days left to "buy our $1.00 par value stock, nonassessable for 50 cents a share."

Who could disbelieve it? The drawing was signed by a geologist and the ad stated, further, "Oil spouted over the derrick in 1913. Do you doubt our ability to make it spout again and keep spouting?"

Unfortunately for the investors, the only spouting that occurred was the hot air from the promoters. Of the more than 30 wells drilled in the county between 1903 and 1930, none produced oil or gas in commercial quantity.

Although Carlsbad's residents had little or nothing to do with the oil rush, the

community did have its very own oil well--the Victoria oil well (later called the Clark well, then the La Costa well). In the records of the state mineralogist, there is no exact date for this well's initial drilling (the report says only "pre-1915"), but in his 1920 report, he lists it as follows: "La Costa Well, formerly known as Clark Well, at La Costa Station.

Location: Section 26, T. 12S, RAW. Well being deepened by La Costa Oil Company. Original depth 2330 feet, present depth 2190 feet, prepared to drill to 3000 feet. Reported a small showing of oil and gas."

The "small showing" was all it would have and the company finally gave up. All that remains Carlsbad: An Unabashed History of the Village by the Sea 37

of the operation is the large wooden winch, which you can see for yourself if you don't mind lunging through the underbrush north and west of the intersection of El Camino Real and Dove. (Author’s note: The winch is no longer there, destroyed by the construction of a shopping center on the land.)

In 1986, the old oil well winch was still intact. Photo by Tom Sliwa.

The Roaring 20s Perks Things Up

A steam shovel passes the Twin Inns sometime in the twenties. Photo courtesy Ed Kentner, Jr.

In the twenties, Carlsbad came out of hibernation with a new purpose in life: growing avocados, vegetables, flowers, and flower bulbs.

Others who joined in the avocado-growing industry included L.C. Alles, who, with 26 acres in grove, had the largest individual planting in the county; E.G. Litchfield, a former Canadian wheat

farmer, who contended that "one man could tend several acres of avocados if he stayed on the go eight hours daily and irrigated right"; A.W. Theisinger, a former jeweler who started a grove with no

Carlsbad: Avocado Capital One of Carlsbad's lesser known claims to fame is its pioneering role in California's avocado industry.* An Orange County nurseryman, Sam Thompson, planted the first Carlsbad avocado groves in 1916.

Thompson became famous in his own right for his experimentation with different strains, and won many prizes for his avocados. *In A History of the Californias, Philip S. Rush writes: "While the avocado tree was first known in California as early as 1856, when trees from Nicaraguan stock were planted by Thomas White near San Gabriel, this important tree crop really had its beginning in 1871 when R.B. Ord planted three Mexican trees at Santa Barbara."

But what does he know?

An eastward view of the railroad depot and Elm Avenue as seen from an upper floor of he Wadsworth house about 1920.

Carlsbad: An Unabashed History of the Village by the Sea 38

Carlsbad’s first theater, seen here in 1986, opened in 1927. Its first movie was Clara Bow’s “racy” It. Photo by Tom Sliwa.

experience in the business and became probably the most successful of them all.

John Newberry, Sam Thompson, and L.C. Alles formed the Carlsbad Avocado Growers Club in 1923.

Annual dues were $1. The initial 17member roll grew to 92 within a few years. This club was responsible for

beginning an annual event that ran from 1925 until shortly before the Second World War: Avocado Day. Held the first Saturday in October, Avocado Day gave thousands of people the chance to indulge in avocado sandwiches, avocado cake, avocado ice cream, and (for the gastronomic coward) just plain

Clint Culver shows off his new Stevens-Duryea auto at the Twin Inns, an occasion noted by W.W. Borden in his newspaper with, “Clint Culver’s new Stevens-Duryea auto is a fine one but the fine price of $2,800 puts it out of reach of most of us poor mortals.”

Carlsbad: An Unabashed History of the Village by the Sea 39

avocados. From these festivities grew the slogan, "Carlsbad: Home of the Avocado," which was revised later to "Carlsbad: Natural Home of the Avocado."

The market for avocados in the twenties was good. The wholesale price was 75 cents a pound! When the Depression came, however, the price fell to as low as a nickel a pound, but many growers hung in there. Strangely enough, the peak of the planting of avocado trees occurred in the period 1935-40.

Prices rose again in the early forties, but the Carlsbad avocado industry was coming to a close. The end came soon after the years of greatest production, which were 1947-48.

The primary problem was southern California's perennial problem: a shortage of water. What water could be had was too salty for the trees.

There was also a strong economic reason: People were moving into Carlsbad again, and it paid more to grow houses than to grow avocados.

Flowers Take Over The pioneers of Carlsbad's flower-and-bulb industry included E. P. Zimmerman, Clint and Elmer Pedley, and Luther Gage.

Zimmerman was a former Los Angeles landscape architect who began his operation on eight acres in Paradise Valley, near Carlsbad. He experimented with watsonias, creating hybrids that ranged through many colors rather than just the naturally occurring white or pink.

The Pedleys were gladioli growers. In 1934, Clint was given some bird-of-paradise seeds as partial payment on a debt. They planted the seeds, and worked with the plants. In 1951, they transferred some of their greenhouse specimens to the outdoors, planting them in an old avocado grove on Magnolia Avenue. Shortly thereafter, they began marketing the flower, but it wasn't an instant hit. Only after Clint showed how nicely they worked in flower arrangements was there some interest shown. With Donald Briggs, another Carlsbad grower, the

Avocado Days drew thousands annually to Carlsbad, where they could sample avocado ice cream and other avocado-based delights.

Pedleys formed the California Bird Company to plant, cut, ship, and promote the flower. These efforts have made the bird-of-paradise quite famous, and in recognition of its uniqueness in Carlsbad's history, it was made the city's official flower in 1952.

Luther Gage, who came from Montebello in 1921, was the first person to grow bulbs commercially in Carlsbad. His first operation was on five acres at Tamarack and Jefferson. Later, he also leased 14 acres on which he cultivated a

number of varieties, including freesia, iris, ranunculus, anemones, ixias, sapraxis, gladiolus, baby glads, and watsonia. Gage shipped his bulbs not only to buyers in the United States, but also to France and to the Netherlands!

The twenties were a golden decade for Carlsbad. The avocado, flower, and other agricultural industries were helping the town share in the nation's good economic times, true; but this was also thedecade in which a number of people who had only recently come to town

The Los-Diego Hotel (for Los Angeles-San Diego) at the corner of State Street and Grand Avenue was perfectly sited to offer rest for the traveler on the relatively new Coast Highway.

Carlsbad: An Unabashed History of the Village by the Sea 40

Seven-year-old Pat McClellan posed for this 1930 brochure touting Carlsbad’s avocado industry.

Photo by Tom Sliwa

Clint Pedley was one of Carlsbad's floricultural pioneers, being the first to grow the birdofparadise commercially in the United States. Consequently, the bird-of-paradise is Carlsbad's official city flower and appears on the city seal.

were to have a long-lasting, positive effect on Carlsbad's future. Two primary examples of these positive influences are Sara (Sally) Troutman and Roy Chase.

Sally Troutman came to Carlsbad from Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, to retire. She'd seen an advertisement in the Pittsburgh Dispatch that had said Carlsbad was the place to do so.

She and her friend Marion Holmes made the trip cross-country to see whether the substance lived up to the promise. Apparently, they liked what they saw, and in 1920 they bought two and one-half acres at the corner of Highland and Oak, where they built a cottage.

If they had had any doubt at all about the wisdom of their choice, it was quickly dispelled when, at

E.P. Zimmerman Carlsbad: An Unabashed History of the Village by the Sea 41

John Newberry's urging, Sally drank the famous mineral water and cured a longstanding case of severe acid indigestion. Of course, the cure didn't happen overnight.

It took six months of daily dosage for the pains to disappear. After three years, she was cured of the ailment for life. Maybe there was some truth to the longevity claims made for the water, too--Sally lived into her nineties.

Retirement didn't set well with Sally and Marion. Two years after arriving in town, they volunteered to organize a Sunday school for the Union Church and rode herd on the operation for a long time.

They also began a number of business ventures, some of which went well (such as the Bob and Betty Belongings gift shop) and

structures still standing are the Carlsbad Theater and the Los Diego Hotel.

Chase's contribution to Carlsbad was one that has been emulated by many in this village by the sea: energy and vision combined to make personal dreams come true-dreams that work to the benefit of the entire community.

“A Duckie Is a Chicken to Me” or, A Short History of the Twin Inns

An Iowa farmer could almost envy the corn illustrated on this postcard.

The Cohn packing house was kept busy during the 1920s, as attested to by an item in The Spirit of Love, which stated, “The Cohn packing house was so overrushed with Christmas peas that the packers were forced to run a 27 hour shift to get the peas on hand iced and ready for shipment.” In 1986, the packing house was still standing, but was then a storage shed for Bauer Lumber. it was razed soon after to make room for the new train station. Photo by Tom Sliwa.

some of which never really got off the ground (such as Fire Mountain Sa-Ma Cabins).

Sally Troutman's natural kindness, her compassion, and her readiness to lend a hand in any endeavor that needed helpers endeared her to the entire town.

Roy G. Chase came to Carlsbad in 1915 with little more than a capacity for hard work. He applied for and was appointed to the position of postmaster shortly thereafter. Not one to do just one thing at a time, Chase also became the railroad agent and opened a

grocery store in the depot (where he also had the post office).

By 1917, Chase's business had grown to the point where he needed more room, so he bought John Frazier's building just east of the depot so he could have a larger store. At the same time, he relinquished the post of postmaster to Ben Atherton and signed on with the South Coast Land Company as a salesman.

Even that wasn't enough for the energetic Chase. He added construction and trucking to his business enterprises. Two of his Carlsbad: An Unabashed History of the Village by the Sea 42

One of the best examples of a personal dream that worked to the benefit of all of Carlsbad, giving the town a promotional boost unequaled since the days when Frazier's mineral water was touted around the world, is the famous Twin Inns. The adjective "famous" is not used lightly here.

Although the restaurant had small beginnings--opened in 1919 with a loan of $20--its owners, Eddie and Neva Kentner, made it a well-known eatery through their hard work, graciousness, and effective advertising methods.

The Twin Inns initially got its name because at first the Kentners used both the Wadsworth and Schutte mansions in their business operations.* The ground floor of the Schutte house was the restaurant; the upper floors, rooms for overnight guests.

Overflow guests were housed in the Wadsworth mansion. Hence, The Twin Inns, which name stuck even after the Kentners no longer used the Wadsworth house, and even after that building was torn down in 1950.

For a time, Eddie and Neva lived in two rooms above the restaurant. Later, as their family *The Wadsworth house had been a hotel and rooming house since at least 1895, when it was called the Carlsbad Inn, managed by T.J. Riley.

With the traffic north and south from the newly opened Caliente racetrack in Tijuana, the Twin Inns soon became a "must" stop for the horse lovers, winners and losers alike. The fame of the chicken and hospitality spread throughout southern California and--because Eddie overlooked no opportunity for promotion-more or less around the world.

At first, Kentner grew vegetables on the grounds and bought his chickens from local farmers. From time to time, as will happen in the restaurant business, Eddie would misjudge the day's business and run out of chickens. When that happened, it is reported that he would make emergency poultry purchases from a neighbor and dash back to the kitchen, plucking on the run.

Later, Kentner raised his own chickens on his "Tootsie K" ranch on Sunny Creek Road just east of the old Marron hacienda.

Kentner was a master at promotion. Billboards sporting the picture of a chicken and the words "Nothing but... " were scattered over southern California. Another of his favorite signs read, "'Neath the shade of the old apple tree, a duckie is a chicken to me." This doesn't make a whole lot of sense, but it worked, and that's what counts, as they say in the ad

The Twin Inns' famous chickens went through several generations, as can be seen by the photographs on this page and the next. The first chicken was made of clay and perched on the highest tower. The first groundling chickens were made of papier mache. After a few rainstorms, they took on a decidedly ragged appearance.

grew, they took over the entire second floor, so the hotel part of their enterprise had to come to an end.

Eddie did the cooking and Neva was waitress and

chambermaid. In a short time, Eddie had invented a new, crispy, fried-chicken recipe that, it is said, would make "the Colonel" turn in his chicken-plucking license.

Carlsbad: An Unabashed History of the Village by the Sea 43

game.

For years, four tall chicken statues graced the street corner at the Twin Inns. If you didn't know the Twin Inns' specialty after seeing those chickens, you just weren't very bright. The removal of the chickens in 1985 is considered by many residents as an uprooting of part of Carlsbad's heritage. This may well be the case. Without the chickens on the corner, how will the post office ever again be able to deliver a letter addressed--as one was from a New

Neva and Eddie Kentner.

for a while. In 1985, the Twin Inns was bought by a group of restaurateurs, remodeled, and reopened later that year as Neiman's Restaurant. [Author’s note: Today (2009) it’s called Ocean House.]

Yorker who had never been to Carlsbad--"The Big Hen Inn, near Carlsbad, San Diego County"? Then again, imagination has no place in today's U.S. Postal Service--they're hung up on ZIP codes, so it's probably a moot point. At any rate, you can see one of the chickens at the Carlsbad city hall, where it stands guard behind a tall plant in the lobby.

Kentner's creative impulses extended beyond promotion. He also remodeled the restaurant, adding the hexagonal dining room on the east side of the building in 1922 and having a local artist, J. Morgan Patterson, paint seascapes and mountain and desert landscapes on the dining room's ceilings in 1938.

In the cocktail lounge, known as the Mecca Bar, Kentner featured blacklight murals on velvet long before that art form was a hit in HaightAshbury and Tijuana. These murals

depicted a moonlit harem scene and a Turkish slave market.

Eddie Kentner believed in what he was doing, but, more important, he believed in where he was doing it. He never let a chance go by, in his promotional frenzies, to plug Carlsbad as much as he did his restaurant.

Kentner's civic pride and sense of duty toward his fellow citizens was exhibited more than once. One example: During the hard times of the Great Depression, which hit the Carlsbad Mexican community extremely hard, Kentner arranged a shipment of food from Los Angeles for the barrio's residents.

Eddie died in 1961, but the Twin Inns went on, operated by his daughter Dee and her husband Art Morgan. Six years later, their son Mike took over the operation. He was joined in 1969 by Ed Kentner, Jr., who had been away from town Carlsbad: An Unabashed History of the Village by the Sea 44

The Barrio and the Influence of Mexican Immigrants on Carlsbad During the Mexican Revolution of the early twentieth century, many Mexicans came north to start a new and, they hoped, more stable and prosperous life. The majority found employment in the fields; others became tradesmen. All of them added to Carlsbad's history a chapter without which this town would be much poorer.

As immigrants to a new land have done since humans began settling new lands, the Mexicans who came to Carlsbad created their own neighborhood, the center being, more or less, John Sotelo's store at the corner of Walnut Avenue and Second Street. The initiators of the neighborhood had been Pablo Ramirez and Pablo Trejo. Ramirez had built a house on the southwest corner of the intersection in 1918.

Trejo had purchased five lots at the northwest corner and built two houses, a garage, and a store.

It didn't take long for Alex La Betta, a speculator in San Diego, to see opportunity here. He purchased

A street scene of the barrio in the 1920s.

much of the land around Sotelo's store and constructed one- and twobedroom houses on the lots. Made of used lumber, and featuring no electricity or indoor plumbing, La Betta sold these houses for $500 each. Terms were easy: little or no money down, $25 a month.

The residents planted flower and vegetable gardens in their backyards, and surrounded them with neat, white picket fences. Many

also kept cows and goats for milk.

They were making homes here, against some steep odds.

For example, their children were segregated from "whites" at school, and forbidden to speak Spanish.

In many ways, these Mexican immigrants were accorded the same kind of treatment that the Spaniards and the early Yankee settlers had given the Indians. Their presence was tolerated as a cheap labor pool.

A good number of them, however, didn't let the stereotyping get the best of them, and became wellrespected citizens of Carlsbad.

One of these was Pete Aguilar.

Aguilar started out as a greengrocer, selling vegetables from a small store on the ground floor of the Killian Building. In a few years, he owned the building. Another was Manuel Castorena, who became president of the chamber of commerce, was otherwise active in civic affairs, and was one of Carlsbad's first mayors after the town incorporated as a city.

The barrio lost many of its residents during the Depression. In 1935, the United States and Mexico had made a repatriation agreement, and offered, jointly, to pay the transportation expenses of any former Mexican citizen who wanted to go back to Mexico. It was a oneway trip--no return was allowed.

Many in the barrio had tried hard, but the Depression was hurting them greatly. Perhaps, back in Mexico...

Another Shot at Mineral Water Fame Before 1929's Black Thursday ushered in the Depression, Carlsbad was having a fantastic time. It was growing in population and importance. With the prosperity of the twenties and the rise of the automobile, tourism became a leading industry throughout southern California, and Carlsbad was no exception. A number of tourist courts were constructed. The South Coast Land Company promoted the daylights out of the area. Their intention, of course, was to bring in land buyers, but the promotion also served to entice just plain tourists.

With all this going on, there should be no surprise in learning that some enterprising folks decided to trade on the famous mineral well once more. The name of this game

was the California-Carlsbad Mineral Springs Hotel, planned and built by the Eastman Hotel Company of Los Angeles.

The people who ran this company liked Carlsbad. They liked

Carlsbad: An Unabashed History of the Village by the Sea 45

the area, and they liked a certain piece of property across the street from Frazier's old well. But they didn't like Carlsbad's sewer system.

More correctly, they didn't like the lack of a sewer system. So, they

made a deal with the town: Put in a decent sanitary system, and we'll build a hotel like Carlsbad hasn't seen since the big one burned down in 1896.

Carlsbad's leading citizens agreed. The septic tanks and tile fields were getting a little out of hand. So they pushed through the

funding for a better sanitary system (it cost $75,000), which was completed just two weeks before the California-Carlsbad Mineral Springs Hotel opened for business on May 24, 1930.

The hotel was all that had been promised, and more. There were 130 guest rooms, rooftop gardens,

Carlsbad: An Unabashed History of the Village by the Sea 46

lobbies, lounges, ballrooms, and sun parlors.

The entire north wing was devoted to what today we would call a physical fitness center. The masochists among the guests could enjoy the pummeling of Swedish massage, the damp heat of steam cabinets, and the exhaustion of exercise.

Dr. P.M. Seixas, who was the first person to broadcast an exercise program over radio station KNX in Los Angeles, made the Carlsbad Mineral Springs Hotel the headquarters for his California Health Club, which had more than 500,000 adherents in California and other western states.

The Depression finally caught up with the operation and the hotel went into receivership. In 1939, Oliver M. Morris bought the property. Good timing on his part: It was filled to capacity throughout World War II. After passing through two other owners (Spence Reese, 1945; Albert M. Mendez, 1953) and called simply "The Carlsbad Hotel," it was

The “weeping eucalyptus” in 1986. The tree was cut down in 1994 because of disease.

Guests at the Carlsbad Hotel could send home this postcard featuring Gus, the original laid-back Californian. The same picture was used on the hotels’ ‘Do Not Disturb” signs.

purchased in 1956 by Lutheran Services and turned into Carlsbadby-the-Sea, a retirement home, which it still is today.

The Legend of the Weeping Eucalyptus

When this book was written in 1986, there stood in the courtyard at Carlsbad by the Sea retirement home an old eucalyptus tree about which a romantic story had been concocted. This romantic story was told on a bronze plaque posted at the tree’s base. A few years later, the tree was found to be dead from the inside and

posed a hazard, so it was cut down. The stump remains, and so does the plaque. Here is the story: “In the early days of California, there lived the beautiful senorita Rosita Roja (Red Rose), daughter of Don Carlos Fernando Osuna, one of the best-known Spanish settlers.

“While her sweetheart, who was the captain of a Spanish ship, was away at sea, Rosita would sit by the lovely eucalyptus tree, dreaming of her captain's return when they would wed.

“One day news came that his ship was wrecked and all on board had perished. The shock was so great that Rosita died of a broken heart. Soon, as if in mourning, the stalwart limbs of the lovely eucalyptus began to bow and the leaves fell like tears shed for the fair Rosita.

“Many years have passed, but the stately eucalyptus continues in its attitude of mourning. There are many varieties of the eucalypti which the Spanish brought from Australia, but so far as is known, this is the only specimen which has ever grown in this spreading manner.

To Be or Not to Be: The City That Almost Wasn’t Few of us see ourselves as others do. While shaving or applying makeup, we concentrate only on the area being dealt with and the rest of the face is out of focus. But there comes a day when, for no apparent reason, we see our entire visage clearly, distinctly. "I've changed," we admit. We don't know when those crow's feet appeared at the

corners of our eyes, but we see that they are, indeed, there. Some of us take the situation positively; some, negatively; others, with resignation.

None of us feels neutral about it.

Communities have the same experience, sooner or later. What was once a train depot and two or three houses and sheds grows to include 12 or 13 more houses and Carlsbad: An Unabashed History of the Village by the Sea 47

three or four stores. More houses appear. More stores. Filling stations.

Hotels and motor courts. More houses. And then one day, as in a collective body, the residents "wake up" and say, "We've changed. We've grown and didn't even notice it."

Carlsbad "woke up" shortly after World War II. The town had grown and was still growing. Of course, the

W. W. Borden reported in his newspaper in the early part of the century, "A number of local wells were bored to a considerable depth, which were long noted for the pure, soft water obtained in moderate quantity.” By the late 1940s, however, these wells were not sufficient for Carlsbad’s needs.

"baby boom" was on, but there was also an influx of new adult residents, many of them servicemen who had visited Carlsbad during the war,

liked it, and returned after the war to make their homes here. The question was: "What do we do about it?"

There seemed to be three possibilities: One, remain an unincorporated town governed by the county; two, become part of Oceanside; and three, incorporate as a separate city.

Naturally, there were proponents for all three courses. The first possibility--remaining as a countygoverned town--was the least popular. Under that arrangement, the nearest county sheriff's deputy was in Oceanside and fire protection consisted of one truck operated by the state forestry department (and if it was away doing duty at a groundcover fire, the residents could only hope that no house caught fire). For years, too, Carlsbad residents had accused the county supervisors of indifference toward Carlsbad's wellbeing. Seeming proof of this indifference came at a county supervisors' meeting when members of the Carlsbad Chamber of Commerce complained (not for the first time) about a huge puddle that

formed at the intersection of Oak Avenue and Washington Street with each rain. One of the supervisors quipped that Carlsbad residents should be given sponges to soak up the water. Although he later apologized, most of the leavethings-as-they-are proponents left that camp and opted for either annexation or incorporation.

The annexation-or-incorporation controversy was fiercely fought, with good arguments on both sides.

The annexation group contended that being part of Oceanside would provide better police and fire protection--and Colorado River water--more quickly and economically than if Carlsbad were to incorporate. In addition, Oceanside's government went on record as being more than willing to annex.

The problem was that Oceanside didn't want all of Carlsbad, just the more profitable part, a strip along the coast that had as its eastern boundary the proposed freeway (now I-5) and went as far south as the north shore of Batiquitos

Carlsbad’s first city officials. Standing, Roy Pace, Col. Edward Hagen, T. Bruce Smith. Seated: Ray Ede, Manuel Castorena, Dewey McClellan, Lana Sutton, George Groben.

Carlsbad: An Unabashed History of the Village by the Sea 48

Lagoon. Just incidentally, the part Oceanside wanted also included the newly begun $16 million Encina power plant. Undoubtedly there were sound economic reasons for Oceanside wanting only the more lucrative part of Carlsbad's tax base, but this baldly stated desire for the icing, rather than the whole cake, gave the pro-incorporation faction some real ammunition.

Oceanside had access to Colorado River water. Carlsbad had only wells in the San Luis Rey River valley. The water from these wells was being tainted by salt water because the volume of water being pumped was taking the water table too far below sea level. If Oceanside took only the strip, what would the rest of Carlsbad do for fresh water?

There were more questions, all prefaced by that same phrase. If Oceanside took only the strip, what would the rest of Carlsbad do for fire protection? For police protection? For construction and maintenance? For sanitary system construction and maintenance? For any of the services needed by a growing community? If Oceanside took only the "strip," Carlsbad's remaining tax base would be insufficient for paying for these much-needed services. And it was apparent that little assistance in

anything would be coming from the county, apologies or no apologies.

The issue divided the town. Most residents of the strip seemed to favor annexation. Most residents outside the strip favored incorporation. Petitions were circulated. Meetings and hearings were held. Elections were scheduled. On May 2, 1952, the strip residents voted on the annexation issue. The first results were 44 "yea" and 41 "nay." But there were five absentee ballots yet to be counted, and the proincorporation camp, which had naturally kept a sharp eye on the procedure, challenged five of the ballots. When the smoke cleared, the count came to 45 for and 45 against, a tie that killed annexation, at least for the time being. But it also swung several pro-annexation leaders over to the pro-incorporation side.

On May 7, the date of the incorporation election was announced by the registrar of voters: June 24. Now the pro-incorporation camp had another foe, a group of homeowners in the eastern part of the proposed incorporation boundaries that called themselves "Rural Citizens." These folks didn't want anything to do with an incorporated Carlsbad, and said so loudly and clearly.

The debate was acrimonious, bitter, and brought about more hard feelings than had the annexationincorporation issue.

And the specter of being trapped between Oceanside and the Pacific suddenly arose. There was the very real possibility that Oceanside would annex a corridor of land to the east of Carlsbad and some land to the south of the Terramar housing development that hadn't been included in the incorporation boundaries. If this happened, Carlsbad would be squeezed between Oceanside and the ocean with nowhere to grow. In time, if this happened, the town would be forced to become part of Oceanside to survive.

The election brought out a record number of Carlsbad voters. When the ballots were counted, 781 voted "yea"; 714 voted "nay," Incorporation had won.

At the same election, the city's first governmental officers were elected. C.D. McClellan became mayor. Ray Ede, Manuel Castorena, George Grober, and Lena Sutton composed Carlsbad's first city council. Ed Hagen was elected clerk, and Roy Pace was elected treasurer.

The Young City Grows Up If anyone thought the annexation-incorporation battle was the toughest part of Carlsbad becoming a city, they were soon disabused of that notion. Roy Pace, the city's first treasurer, gives a good account of the early days in his memoirs: "So incorporation came and with it headaches that would not stop.

First of all, there was no money, no city hall, no police office--just plain nothing, along with a very hostile group of people who had opposed every plan for what some of us liked

to call progress. That word and its usage really did raise the hackles on a lot of folks."

The first "city hall" was the state forestry and fire building on Carlsbad Boulevard (now used as state park offices). This building had been constructed on part of the Magee property, and was to be used only by the state. When Mrs. Magee learned of the city was using the building, she got a bit upset and the city officials had to move.

They went for a time to the Oilers Room of the Twin Inns. In Carlsbad: An Unabashed History of the Village by the Sea 49

time, St. Patrick's Church erected a new church building and the city was allowed to use the old church building (now Heritage Hall at Magee Park) for city offices. Pace described the move: "So into St. Patrick's hall. The police force (all two) into a projecting room. Two desks which I made out of three-foot slab doors were put together. A council table was purchased by me and someone else and given to the new city. It was a reasonable nice table with six chairs; secondhand, of course."

Then came more trouble:

The early Carlsbad Police Department--all four of them: Wallace Rossall, Samsel (Bud) Wolters, Urban (Max) Palkowski (Chief), and Joe A. Castro. Photo courtesy Natalie Vermilyea.

"This move was completed just in time," Pace wrote, "to catch the entire force of the sewer bonds...

"Almost at once I began to get calls from San Diego and Los Angeles demanding that I collect these bonds. Since no bonds existed to be collected, we started from scratch. The San Diego County treasurer, Delvin Dixon, had insisted that an incorporated city such as Carlsbad must collect its own [but] I found that the county treasurer's office would process the bonds and mail out the first notices, etc. for $1,500. That was all well and good, except the only $1,500 was in the district funds and the engineering firm of Phelps was not about to turn it loose...

"The lateness of the mailing made for many problems in collecting. Once more it was my broad stern that took the sharp toes.

Really, the people had a right to be unhappy with someone. The demands for the bond monies came at Christmas time. People would not believe that of the city of Carlsbad,

Natalie Vermilyea (left) with the female police reserves whose assistance during lean times greatly aided the fledgling Carlsbad Police Department: Betty Bryan, Grace Larson, Henrietta Rawson, Iva Dyche, Carol McLaughlin, Mildred West, Alliss Ennis, and Arlene Leonard in 1953. Photo courtesy Natalie Vermilyea.

Carlsbad: An Unabashed History of the Village by the Sea 50

City hall in 1986. Photo by Tom Sliwa.

and since my name was on the notice I must be the guilty one.

Along with this, the descriptions were far from accurate. This was understandable since almost the last postings done by the county assessor's books were done by WPA workers during depression years. So a bond would be placed against a piece of property that had since been split four ways. It happened often.

So one person would be charged with all four pieces. Who was the guilty one? To clear these matters up was most expensive and time consuming. So many items were cleared up by regular everyday horsetrading."

There were still strong feelings about Carlsbad's incorporation, with opposition still being raised by some citizens, particularly the farmers on the east side of town, who had a champion in the person of Clifton Williams. Pace describes Williams and some of the problems brought about by this faction: "Clifton Williams was a man who at one time was city attorney of the city of Milwaukee. He owned property directly south of the present high school and so was in the center of the anti-everything section of town. Even before the ink was dry on our descriptive boundaries he was demanding that these boundaries be changed. So a meeting was arranged to hear his plea. He wanted his individual holdings to be excluded from the boundaries. His requests at that time seemed outlandish, but reason was

with the city and they were able to withstand his suit even if it cost thousands of dollars which the city did not have. He lost in the Superior Court but took it to the Court of Appeals before stopping... From that time on it was mostly sniping. To be sure, 1 was called to my door to be served a paper to notify me that I was one of those being notified to stop acting or presuming to act as an official of the City of Carlsbad. My subpoena is in the library files."

Among Williams' actions was an attempt to have the city declared illegally formed, and therefore not a city.

While this matter was still in litigation, the need for--and potential availability of--Colorado River water came up. The water Carlsbad had been getting from the San Luis Rey Valley wells in Oceanside was becoming more and more saline as the water table fell from excessive pumping. Carlsbad needed more water, and it needed better water.

The distribution of the San Luis Rey water was controlled by an agreement between Carlsbad and Oceanside (since Oceanside technically owned the water) wherein Carlsbad could have only a certain amount of water, and then only if Oceanside didn't need it. In addition, no water could be distributed to land south of Agua Hedionda Lagoon. There would be no such restrictions with "Metropolitan" (Colorado River) water.

There were two barriers to Carlsbad obtaining the Colorado River water. One was the litigation concerning the legality of the city.

With this litigation going on, the San Diego County Water Authority could not include Carlsbad in its system. This was an important barrier, but it was circumvented by Carlsbad forming a new water district, which covered basically the same territory as the city, but including the formerly dry lands to the south.

The second barrier came as the water district was being formed.

Some of the Carlsbad residents didn't want the dry lands to share in the new water. One argument was that the formerly dry farmers would be getting the water for free. How the farmers were going to get away with not paying for the water was never made quite clear, however.

Another reason for not letting the dry areas share in the water was the

Charles Mansir didn’t want Colorado River water delivered to Carlsbad, and he let his feelings be known.

Carlsbad: An Unabashed History of the Village by the Sea 51

The pilings that supported the redwood pipe that supplied Carlsbad with water from Oceanside can still be seen at Buena Vista Lagoon, where today they serve as resting places for waterfowl. Photo

by Tom Sliwa.

The Carlsbad Fire Department used this Crosley and the old ladder truck in the background for its public fire education and in parades. The driver of the Crosley is Bill Hill. Photo courtesy Carlsbad Fire Department.

The Carlsbad Volunteer Fire Department of 1949.

Photo courtesy Carlsbad Fire Department.

Carlsbad: An Unabashed History of the Village by the Sea 52

fear that Carlsbad's population would grow (imagine that!) if there was more water available. And then there were some of those who, like the poor, we will always have with us: It was good enough for my grandfather; it's good enough for me. This last stance may have been more economic than philosophical.

The San Luis Rey water was (excuse the expression) dirt cheap-3 3/4 cents per 100 cubic feet. There was no doubt that the Colorado River water would be more expensive.

The entire controversy was laid to rest on March 11, 1954, when Carlsbad's voters voted in favor of forming the mutual water district that would soon bring the fresh water--and a fresher future--into the city.

While these momentous events were taking place, other events--not as earthshaking, but still importan-twere taking place. These include the establishment of the police, fire, and parks departments, the library, newer and better schools, and all those "little" things that turn a town into a city.

No Cash, No Cars, No Calaboose In the beginning, there were only two persons in the police department: Natalie Vermilyea and Max Palkowski. Vermilyea acted as secretary for almost everyone, as a police officer, and as a dispatcher.

Palkowski was the police chief.

Their first office, in the old St. Mark's Catholic Church, was about 10 feet by 10 feet. Into this room they stuffed a desk each for Palkowski and Vermilyea and a chair. This chair was important.

Since there was no cell for prisoners, a prisoner spent his time in the Carlsbad "pokey" handcuffed to this chair (of course, he or she was transferred to the county slammer as quickly as possible).

There was no money for a police car, so Palkowski used his personal car, a green Ford, for police business. While on duty, Palkowski hung from the driver's window a

large leather patch emblazoned with the words "Carlsbad Police," a star, and the numeral "1" in the center of the star.

While the police department was getting on its feet, a number of citizens--men and women both--

came to its aid by volunteering for the police reserves. The men served as patrol officers when not occupied with their regular jobs and the women served mostly in the evenings as dispatchers.

In time, everything smoothed

out. More money was available for career officers and other personnel.

In 1964, the police department had 16 paid employees, four of them dispatchers. Today the Carlsbad police department boasts 86 personnel (62 "sworn"; 24

The Encina Power Plant

One of the most visible landmarks in all of Carlsbad today is the 400-foot-tall stack at the Encina power plant. It was highly visible during the annexationincorporation battle of 1952, too, although not yet constructed. This one feature of Carlsbad's coastal strip was a primary reason for Oceanside's offer to annex the coastal strip.

Just the thought of all that wonderful tax money was enough to set any city council to drooling (taxes and fees paid to the city of Carlsbad by the Encina power plant in 1985 totaled $3.9 million).

The Encina plant is the largest fossil-fueled electricitygenerating plant owned by San Diego Gas & Electric. Details of the plant's history and operation were supplied by SDG&E: "Construction was started in

1951, with the first generating unit going into commercial operation in 1954. Unit two went into commercial operation in 1956; unit three in 1958. Construction resumed in the 70s, with unit four going into commercial operation in 1973 and unit five in 1978.

"Capacity for each of units one, two, and three is approximately 100 megawatts. Units four and five generate approximately 300 , megawatts each, for a total capacity from all five units of approximately 900 megawatts. One megawatt serves about a thousand customers.

"The area served by Encina is nonspecific. Transmission inter-ties allow power to be moved in any direction depending on where it's needed. The Encina plant is just one part of SDG&E's `grid.' For example, if electricity is needed in El Cajon, it can be drawn from Encina or our South Bay plant or the Carlsbad: An Unabashed History of the Village by the Sea 53

Southwest Power Link or a combination of any of our many power sources.

"The fuel source for the Encina plant is either fuel oil or natural gas. If fuel oil is cheaper than natural gas, then fuel oil is what is burned. If natural gas goes below fuel oil in price, then we burn that."

SDG&E situated the power plant near Agua Hedionda Lagoon so water from the lagoon could be used for condensing the steam used to turn the turbines that turn the generators that produce the electricity that lights the city that Schutte built.

When going full blast, the plant needs 500,000 gallons of seawater a minute for this cooling; therefore, SDG&E dredged the lagoon so its capacity was increased about three times and so it's always open to the sea.

This, in turn, makes Agua Hedionda Lagoon a perfect place for year-round water skiing and other water sports.

"nonsworn.")* And sufficient motor vehicles now, too: 29 vehicles, 17 of them "marked units.�

We’ll Put Your Fire Out Next Tuesday If your house catches on fire today, Carlsbad Fire Department firefighters and paramedics are at the scene in five minutes or less. But before incorporation, your house had every chance of burning to the ground. At that time, the only fire protection for Carlsbad was the California Division of Forestry truck operated by Ted Walker. The problem was that brush fires legally took priority over structural fires. If Walker was presented with the choice of a brush fire or your house, he had to go to the brush fire.

Walker tried to alleviate this problem by forming a volunteer fire department. With volunteers helping him, he could fight brush fires more efficiently, which would put the truck back into the city more quickly; and structural fires could be fought with greater efficiency, too.

According to a history of the fire department written by a firefighter several years ago, "the response was not overwhelming, but several men volunteered to help man the CDF truck. The first elected chief of this volunteer department was Fred Tucker, with Benny Morrow serving as assistant chief."

Overwhelming numbers or not, there was little that could be done if a house caught fire and the truck was out of town. This prompted the insurance companies to refuse fire insurance to the Army and Navy Academy, the Carlsbad Hotel, and the Twin Inns, among other establishments. And that prompted the owners of the academy and the hotel to call for annexation to Oceanside, from which they could receive fire protection.

It also let Robert Garlock's house burn to the ground on January 1, 1952. Garlock's house is known as *Jargon is wonderful. Is an "unsworn" employee one who is against Lawn Order and potentially subversive?

"the house that incorporated Carlsbad," because that incident woke people up as no other incident had done before. As the old Latin proverb goes, "When your neighbor's wall is on fire, it's your own house at stake."

While everyone fought over the annexation-incorporation issue, the volunteer firefighters strove to remedy the fire-protection problem.

They collected donations and held a barbecue, which netted enough money for them to buy a 1951 one and one-half ton Ford flat-bed that they converted into a fire pumper, using "borrowed" parts from Camp Pendleton.

When Carlsbad officially became a city, the volunteer fire department became the Carlsbad City Fire Department, with Virgil Luther as its first chief. Luther and his firefighters were still unpaid, but at least Carlsbad now had a real fire department with a real fire truck it could call its very own.

The next problem to be solved was that of water supply. There were only three fire hydrants in the entire city, supplied by water that came through redwood pipe from the San Luis Rey wells. Bill Hill, a 30-year veteran of the fire department, and who worked for the water department before that, remembers that there was only one hydrant in

the downtown area--a one and onehalf inch pipe sticking up from the sidewalk at the northeast corner of Elm and State.

The water problem and the shortage of fire-fighting equipment were solved slowly (as problems in all cities are), but aggressively, by chiefs Bob Hardin and Girard Anear.

Today, Carlsbad has an unusually good water-supply system for firefighting.

Until 1972, emergency medical service in Carlsbad was in private hands, which, in some cases, left something to be desired. With the annexation of La Costa that year, however, the city inherited a fire station (the current Station No. 2) and an ambulance.

In 1977, the fire department created a paramedic unit for "advanced life saving" and sent nine of its firefighters to UCSD to be trained as paramedics. Shortly thereafter, all the city's firefighters were trained as emergency medical technicians (EMTs) so they could provide basic life support services.

Today, the fire department has sufficient emergency vehicles and personnel to respond quickly to any emergency and get the job done.

If you're a resident of Carlsbad, the Carlsbad City Fire Department is just one more thing about your town that you can take pride in.

Chris Christiansen and Lois Fry pose with palm trees all dressed up for one of the annual Spring Holiday celebrations, which were held from the 50s to the 70s.

Carlsbad: An Unabashed History of the Village by the Sea 54

Batiquitos Lagoon, mist shrouded at dawn. Photo by Charles Wesley Orton.

Batiquitos Lagoon and La Costa The southernmost of the three lagoons inside Carlsbad's boundaries is the one most invested with mystery and paradox: No one knows where the name came from, nor even what it means (there is no such word in the Spanish language (there is a dialectical Mexican word similar to it, but its translation is too vulgar to print); the residential real estate surrounding the lagoon is some of the most expensive in the city, yet in summer the lagoon exudes a wide-ranging odor (read: stench) that would send a Chicago stockyard worker to reeling; and its future is up to the Fates.

Batiquitos has always been Carlsbad's problem lagoon. Buena Vista makes a good bird sanctuary, Agua Hedionda has practical application for recreation and as a source for cooling at Encina power plant, but Batiquitos--what on earth are we going to do with it? It's a lot like an appendix: It's there, it's natural, it's nice to have around, but is it really necessary?

Batiquitos Lagoon, being five miles south of Carlsbad, and having little fresh water in the vicinity, played no role to speak of in the

city's early history. The earliest settler of record appears to have been one Nathan Eaton who in 1875 built a small house on the south shore of the lagoon. He passed the time by keeping bees and collecting salt and, as Jay Lamb put it so well, "spent the next six years in a state of semi-inebriation." When you think about it, Eaton may have had the right idea.

In the mid-1880s, Thomas Metcalf, in company with Alfred Metcalf and Jacob Gruendike, bought a good bit of the land surrounding the lagoon, about 3,000 to 4,000 acres extending from Poinsettia Lane south and from La Costa Hotel & Spa to the ocean.

Metcalf had been one of the founders of the Escondido Land Company and apparently figured he could duplicate his success at Batiquitos. In 1887 he formed the La Costa Land and Town Company for that purpose. It didn't work.

Metcalf's heirs--Albert, John, Anna, and Marie--had a problem figuring out what to do with their inheritance. As far as they were concerned, they were land poor.

There was a certain amount of Carlsbad: An Unabashed History of the Village by the Sea 55

squabbling among them, also, which tended to keep the land from being put to much use.

In 1944, one-quarter of the land went for taxes. Not long afterward, Marie gave her part of the land to her brother John's divorced wife May. Marie's belief was that the land was worthless (one wonders, then: did Marie like her former sister-inlaw?).

Well, we all know where the situation sits now. In some respects, the land is still worthless. The current owners can't do much with it because the Coastal Commission and a few million special interest groups set up a hue and cry every time a move is made.

It's a beautiful lagoon, just as it is. Maybe it will stay in its almost pristine condition. Or maybe some development will take place near its shores that will not harm the lagoon's beauty or ecosystem. Or maybe it'll all fall through a crack in the next earthquake, making the entire problem academic (or moot, as it were).

Whatever happens, we can be sure of one thing: Batiquitos will continue to surprise us and never,

ever will lift its veil of mystery.

Yes, Virginia; La Costa Really Is Part of Carlsbad Chevrolets, use the side entrance, please. At least, that's how it seems when you drive the main drag through the La Costa complex.

You'll never see more Rollses, Jags, Mercedeses, and Bentleys all in one group outside Beverly Hills. La Costa spells wealth and leisure, and it's one of Carlsbad's most valuable assets.

To be sure, when the La Costa hotel and spa first opened in 1965, there were some residents who weren't totally happy with the situation, and they were even unhappier when La Costa asked to be annexed to the city. "Teamster

money! Gangsters!" went the horrified whisper. "They'll turn it into another Las Vegas, and take over the city government, and then where will we be?" Luckily, the intelligent people outnumbered the dummies, and La Costa became a part of Carlsbad in 1972.

Many current residents of the La Costa area, thinking themselves elite and above the madding crowd, prefer to have their mail addressed to “La Costa” instead of “Carlsbad” because “La Costa has so much more cachet, don’t you think, dahlink?” (which the post office lets them get away with), but La Costa is, indeed, within the Carlsbad city limits.

The La Costa hotel and spa is famous as the site for the annual

MONY Tournament of Champions, which kicks off each year's PGA circuit. For those guests who like to golf, there are two (count 'em) 18hole championship golf courses.

Prefer to swim? You can choose among five swimming pools.

Tennis? There are 23 courts. Like recently released movies? They're shown nightly in the 180-seat theatre.

La Costa has just completed an ambitious $70 million remodeling and expansion binge that has added 240 rooms and suites to their available accommodations, a 50,000-square-foot two-level conference center, an 8,000-squarefoot ballroom, and additional tennis and golf facilities.

Leo Carrillo and Los Quiotes Leo Carrillo became famous as the Cisco Kid’s sidekick Pancho in the 1950s television western.

Perhaps one of Leo Carrillo's greatest assets as an actor in Westerns was that he was Old California personified. He longed for the pre-gringo California and lived the life as well as he could in the twentieth century. Since his great-great grandfather José Raimundo Carrillo was one of the soldiers in the Portola expedition,

Impressions of Leo Carrillo’s brand can be found at various places around the ranch house. This one is in the walkway by the barbecue. Photo by Charles Wesley Orton.

his idea of a dream homestead is no surprise: "And I said I would like to have rolling hills, some cattle, twisting sycamores, doves, owls, coyotes, quail, a few deer, and, of course, horses," he wrote in his autobiography. He said, further, "I wanted a climate that was mild, where I could see the ocean, and be in it in 10 or 15 minutes.... I romanced it all over the place."

The occasion of one such romancing was nothing special--just Carrillo and some friends at a hunting lodge in Lancaster. But one of the listeners, Sterling Hebbard, paid heed and one day in 1937 phoned Carrillo with the news that he might have found the right place-Los Kiotes, near Carlsbad.

When Carrillo saw it, he wanted it. He paid Charles Kelly $17 per acre for 1,700 acres "and later bought an additional 3,000 acres very reasonably too."

For some time, Carrillo wasn't sure what he was going to do with the old Kelly house. It had fallen into disrepair. For months, Carrillo would spend his weekends at the Carlsbad: An Unabashed History of the Village by the Sea 56

ranch--living in a tent by the creek, cooking over a campfire, gazing at the house and pondering his best

Leo Carrillo held frequent week-end gettogethers with his friends and colleagues from Hollywood.

Carrillo extensively remodeled the Kelly adobe at Los Quiotes, cutting it down to one story and adding several rooms and wings. Photo by Charles Wesley Orton.

course.

Then one day an old truck bearing a man and his three sons drove up. The man said he was a carpenter and adobe builder from New Mexico, that his sons were likewise craftsmen of wood and adobe, and that they could rebuild the place for him. Carrillo hired them on the spot for $3 a day each.

They spent the next three years rebuilding the old Kelly house-converting it from two stories to one--and constructing outbuildings.

When it was finished, Matthew Kelly wouldn't have recognized the place. It had been transformed into a monument to Old California.

Unlike many of his Hollywood colleagues, Carrillo was no hobby rancher. His love for horses, cattle,

and Old California would allow no mockery. Los Quiotes (his respelling of Kiotes) was a working ranch with about 600 head of cattle on it.

Weekends were for hospitality, and the ranch was the frequent resort of Carrillo's many friends, among whom were the biggest stars of the thirties, forties, and fifties. It was a peaceful place, just as he had wanted. And he made sure it stayed that way--for all the years he owned the place, he never had a telephone installed.

Although when he died in 1961 Carrillo was at his Santa Monica ranch, he spent most of his later years at Los Quiotes. He bequeathed the ranch to his adopted daughter Antoinette Delpy. In 1968, San

Carrillo buried his favorite horse, Conquistador, at the edge of a hilltop overlooking the ranch house valley, and marked the spot with this cross. Photo by Charles Wesley Orton.

Diego attorney Byron White purchased the ranch from Delpy. He deeded, for a park, to the city of Carlsbad the 10 acres on which the buildings were situated with the proviso that Delpy be allowed to live there for her lifetime.

Delpy died in the seventies, and the city moved a caretaker onto the premises, who lived in the house to keep an eye on the place. Little has been done to the buildings or grounds save what preventive maintenance is possible under the parks department's budget. The road into the park is in poor shape, and the area is closed to the public.

Plans have been made to turn the site into an interesting park, but they have not yet been acted on.

From Restaurant to Military Academy Little fanfare attended the opening of the Red Apple Dining Room at the San Luis Rey Inn, not far from the south shore of Buena Vista Lagoon, but its fame soon spread. Managed by Margaret B. Drought, who had made other

restaurants successful, the eatery’s focal point was the apple. Apple motifs appeared everywhere--on every piece of china, on the furniture, even on the light fixtures.

The bill of fare naturally also featured apple dishes of many sorts.

Carlsbad: An Unabashed History of the Village by the Sea 57

Unfortunately, the Depression caught up with the operation, and it was sold in 1936 to Pasadena philanthropist A.C. Anderson, who that same year leased the Red Apple Dining Room to the Army and Navy Academy, which had been in Pacific

Beach since 1910.

Under the direction of Col. William C. Atkinson, the academy outgrew its new home and purchased the rest of the San Luis Rey Inn property, as well as some adjacent property to the south within a short time. (Col. Atkinson stayed with the academy for 59 years, until his death in 1983.)

The academy now covers about 16 acres and is almost a small city in itself, having its own infirmary, barber shop, and other facilities. The Red Apple Dining Room is now the academy's dining hall (Fegan Hall), and one can still see apple-decorated fixtures there.

The Red Apple Dining Room in 1932.

The Army and Navy Academy in 1986. Photo by Tom Sliwa.

The Revival of Frazier’s Well The famous Carlsbad mineralwater well faded into obscurity after the grand California-Carlsbad Mineral Springs Hotel bit the dust during the Depression. Subsequent owners of the hotel did little with the water, and by the time Lutheran Services converted the hotel into the Carlsbad-by-the-Sea retirement home, the grounds encircling the well had become a weed-grown eyesore. It didn't help any that the pipes from the well to the hotel had been cemented in and the well, itself, had become lost.

It could have ended right there.

Carlsbad's first major claim to fame had disappeared. In the opinion of many, it could stay disappeared. But B.M. "Chris" Christiansen had other ideas.

Alt Karlsbad, site of the original mineral-water well dug by John Frazier. Photo by Charles Wesley Orton.

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Christiansen was the son-in-law of Carlsbad real-estate broker Claud J. Fennel, having snared Fennel's daughter Kay in matrimony some years before. The Christiansens lived in the Los Angeles area for a number of years, then moved to Carlsbad in 1951 to help Fennel with his real estate business.

Christiansen was enthralled with the mineral well and with Carlsbad's history in general. Christiansen wanted to save the well for posterity, and he badgered Fennel into buying the property. It was a white elephant, so far as Fennel was concerned, and he didn't want a thing to do with it.

Christiansen finally wore him down, however, and in 1953 they bought the corner lot on which the well was situated.

The mineral-water well, in the cellar of Alt Karlsbad, as it appeared in 1986. Left photo: Exterior side view. The sign is a replica of the one that was on the railroad depot platform in 1886. Right photo: Looking into the well. Photos by Charles Wesley Orton.

Then they started looking for the well. Kay recalled that it had been about 20 feet from the street. They dug and dug and dug, but--no well.

Then they recalled that Carlsbad Boulevard, which is part of Old Highway 101, had been widened by about 20 feet at a later date. Sure enough, they found the well right at the current curb-line of the street.

Unfortunately, the well casing had deteriorated to the point where new casing was needed if they were to draw water from the reservoir of mineral water 423 below ground.

This would take a bunch of money that wasn't in the budget. The Christiansens settled for restoring the old well to a depth of about 40 feet so it could be the centerpiece of the museum they were planning.

(Rumors to the contrary, the mineral

water has not been contaminated by seawater let in by an earthquake. As far as is known, the water is still potable, but just inaccessible at present.)

In 1956, the Christiansens built the courtyard, wall, and gazebo-like wellhead that are the focal point of the Alt Karlsbad property. The wellhead is a scale reproduction of the shrine that marks Stag's Leap at Karlovy Vary, Czech Republic (which, you'll recall, is the point from which Karl's clumsy dog leaped into one of the hot springs).

The eight posts signify the eight Bohemian tribes or nations unified during Karl I's reign. From bottom to top, the four cones at its apex signify the women in a man's life (mother, wife, and daughter) and the protection of the church. The spire

signifies God's care.

Christiansen had great hopes for his corner. He planned to construct an arcade of shops, all in a Bavarian architectural style to recall Carlsbad's Germanic roots. Only one part of his plan was finished before his death--the half-timbered Alt Karlsbad building that houses a gift shop (the Hanse House "Gabe Laden") and basement gallery,-a museum devoted to Karl I and the history of Carlsbad--where one can see interesting Carlsbad memorabilia and even look down into Frazier's famous well.

For the person who is interested in knowing about Carlsbad's early days, Alt Karlsbad is the best starting point. It's open every day except Monday, and Kay Christiansen willingly drops almost any other project to give a most informative tour. If Kay isn't on the premises, she's probably across the street at the Fennel-Christiansen real estate office (the oldest continuous real estate business in Carlsbad, by the way--estab. 1926), where at the age of 78 she's still going strong.

Author’s note: Kay Christiansen passed away several years ago, and the property is now owned by Ludvik Grigoris, a native of Karlovy Vary, Czech Republic, who has drilled a new well into the mineralwater aquifer and sells to the public the same water that made Frazier’s Station famous.

Magee Park Alexander Shipley, former U.S. consul to New Zealand, was tired of San Francisco, where he had been living. San Francisco had given pneumonia to him twice, and he wasn't about to hazard a third bout.

So, he and his family boarded a train for San Diego, where the incidence of pneumonia was reported to be much lower.

Enroute, the train had to lay up for a couple of days in Oceanside

because the tracks had washed out.

While whiling away the time, Shipley heard about Carlsbad's famous therapeutic mineral water.

He visited the place and found that Samuel Church Smiths' house was for sale. He bought the house and Carlsbad obtained one of its more eccentric families.

Shipley was, to put it mildly, an inveterate snob. He kept to himself and did not allow any member of his Carlsbad: An Unabashed History of the Village by the Sea 59

family to fraternize with the lower orders--that is, anyone else who lived in Carlsbad. It was all right to socialize with the British enclave near Mission San Luis Rey, but the commoners were out.

He bought as much land around his house as he could, to serve as a buffer between him and the rest of the world. He chased picnickers and bathers from "his" beach. He bought empty houses and moved them onto

A young Florence Shipley takes a ride.

his property, with the idea that he could thereby keep people from moving into Carlsbad. He attached one of these houses to the rear of the Smith house.

It's no wonder that Shipley blew his stack when in 1922 his pretty 34year-old daughter Florence

announced her plans to marry Hugh Magee. Magee was a descendant of a pioneer family, which might have set well with Shipley's Daughtersof-the-American-Revolution mentality, but Magee's pedigree didn't pass the test--containing the taint of Mexican, Indian, and Irish

blood (he was also, Heaven forbid! a Catholic. Papist swine!). Shipley refused to attend the wedding, and never saw his daughter again.

Florence and Hugh made their home at The Condor's Nest, a ranch near Pauma. After Alexander Shipley died, Florence would travel to Carlsbad once in a while to visit her mother and take her to the movies. Hugh Magee died in 1941, and Florence moved back to the old homestead to care for her mother, who died in 1945.

Florence became a recluse, much as her father had done before her.

She seldom left the house, seeming to prefer the company of her 20+ cats to that of humans. It surprised everyone in Carlsbad when, after Florence's death in 1974, it was found that she had bequeathed her house and property to the city as a park.

Now you know why it's called Magee Park and why there's a house and barn and such in the middle of it. The house serves as headquarters for the Carlsbad Historical Society and contains many interesting items from Carlsbad's past.

Saved from the Wrecker’s Ball A lot of people from the Los Angeles area fell in love with Carlsbad in the twenties. Albert Cohn was one who did it in style.

Cohn was a wholesale groceryman who discovered Carlsbad in 1922 and became great friends with Eddie Kentner, who owned the Twin Inns.

In 1927, he purchased a large parcel of land from the Shipleys, diagonally across from the Twin Inns, and proceeded to build a $40,000 Spanish-style mansion. The doors were imported hand-carved Danish wood, the living room floor was Vermont granite, the bathroom tiles were imported.

Cohn’s wife, Isabel de la Valle, was a musician of note, so there was a dais in the living room for her piano, whence she could entertain

guests with her singing and piano playing.

The Cohns lived in the house until Albert's death in 1938. The

family left the area and converted the house to apartments. After World War II, the Casey family bought the house and surrounding land (Bing

The Cohn house as it appeared when the Cohn family lived in it.

Carlsbad: An Unabashed History of the Village by the Sea 60

Crosby was one of the investors) and created the Royal Palms Hotel, adding bungalows to the grounds.

Lawrence Felt bought the place in 1950. Although he and his family lived in the house, they still ran the bar and rented out the bungalows.

After Felt died in 1972, the property went through several other owners who tried without success to make it a go.

In 1984, the entire property was purchased by Winners Circle Resorts International, which set about constructing vacation condominiums (today's Carlsbad Inn) to replace the bungalows. The architects for these new owners, having little knowledge of or regard for historic sites, slated the Cohn residence for demolition, but--much to their credit--the new owners were dissuaded from this course by local citizens and re-planned their enterprise around the old house.

A postcard advertising the Royal Palms Hotel, a popular stop-over for travelers on the Coast Highway after World War II.

Bibliography Arizona Miner [Prescott, Ariz.].

June 22, 1864; December 12, 1868; July 10, 1869; September 4, 1869; October 9, 1869.

Arizona Sentinel [Yuma, Ariz.].

November 10, 1877.

Bolton, Herbert E. Fray Juan Crespi: Missionary Explorer on the Pacific Coast, 1769-1774. 1927.

Reprint. New York: AMS, 1971.

Brackett, R.W. The History of San Diego County Ranchos. 5th ed.

San Diego: Union Title Insurance, 1960.

Davidson, Winifred. Where California Began. San Diego: McIntyre, 1929.

Lockwood, Herbert. Skeleton's Closet: A Light Look at San Diego History. San Diego: San Diego Independent, 1967.

Meyer, Ruth S. Some Highlights of the Natural History of San Diego County. n.p. Ramona Pioneer Historical Society, 1981.

Mitchell, Randall L. History of Carlsbad. n.p., n.d.

Pourade, Richard F. The History

of San Diego: The Explorers. San Diego: Union-Tribune, 1969.

Price, Peter. The Battle at San Pasqual-Dec. 6, 1846. San Diego: privately published, 1975.

Dillon, Richard. Humbugs and Heroes: A Gallery of California Pioneers. Garden City, N.Y.: Doubleday, 1970.

Englehardt, Fr. Zephyrin. San Luis Rey Mission. San Francisco: James H. Barry, 1921.

Fletcher, Ed. Memoirs of Ed Fletcher. San Diego: privately published, 1952.

Guinn, J.M. Historical and Biographical Record of Southern California. Chicago: Chapman, 1902.

Hayes, Benjamin. Pioneer Notes from the Diaries of Judge Benjamin Hayes, 1849-1875. Los Angeles: privately published, 1929.

Hoof and Horn [Prescott, Ariz.]

January 17, 1889.

Howard-Jones, Marje. Seekers of the Spring. Carlsbad, Calif.: Friends of the Carlsbad Library, 1982.

Carlsbad: An Unabashed History of the Village by the Sea 61

Leadabrand, Russ. Guidebook to the Mountains of San Diego and Orange Counties. Rev. ed. Los Angeles: Ward Ritchie, 1971.

Pryde, Philip R., ed. San Diego: An Introduction to the Region.

Dubuque, Iowa: Kendall/Hunt, 1976.

Rawls, James J. Indians of California: The Changing Image.

Norman, Okla.: Univ. of Okla.

Press, 1984.

Rush, Philip S. A History of the Californias. 2nd ed. San Diego: Neyenesch, 1964.

San Diego [Calif.] Union.

February 9, 1871.

San Francisco [Calif.] Bulletin.

September 25, 1863.

Tucson [Ariz.] Post. May 18, 1907.

Weekly Arizona Miner [Prescott, Ariz.] July 16, 1870; July 23, 1870.

Weekly Arizonan [Tucson, Ariz.]

July 16, 1870; August 6, 1870.

Wharton, H.B. Fort Yuma on the Colorado River. El Cajon, Calif.: privately published, 1968.

Afterword When I published the first edition of this book in 1987, I was unable to include everything that could have been included, because I was constricted in space. Also after publication of that edition, I learned I had made at least one mistake.

Fortunately, I was asked to write an update in 1995, which was published as Carlsbad: The Village by the Sea, An Illustrated History, so I was able to include information for which there was no room in my first book and I was able to correct my mistake(s).

What follows is some of that additional information, the correction(s), and information that has come to light even since 1995.

Welcome to Palamai: An Explanation During the early to mid-1980s were was in California another wave of anti-emigration sentiment similar to, but not nearly as vicious, as the one that held sway in the Dust Bowl days. Bumper stickers and rearwindow stickers emblazoned with “California Native” were common, and another common bumper sticker read, “Welcome to California, Now Go Home!” My humorous little footnote referring to this latter bumper sticker would have been clear to anyone living in southern California in 1987, but not now and never to anyone who wasn’t traveling through the state in that period. Therefore, it needs this explanation. Aside: I never have understood how to determine whether a person is a “native” Californian or Floridian or Alaskan or Anything-ian. If current anthropological theory is correct, even the Indians of North and South America can’t be considered “native.” So what’s the big deal?

Emancipation of the Mission Indians The Mexican government emancipated the Indians who lived and worked on the missions not for humanitarian reasons but for political reasons. The government wanted to put the mission lands into private hands, but it didn’t want to alienate the Church by confiscating the lands. Therefore, went the thinking, if the Indians were officially free to go wherever they wanted to go, they would leave the missions, the missions would no longer be profitable, and the Church wouldn’t want the missions any more.

The one catch to emancipation was that only those Indians who were qualified to become Mexican citizens could be freed. Well, it wasn’t that much of a catch.

Qualifications for citizenship in this case were that the Indian had to have been a Christian since childhood or for 15 years, were married or at least were not minors, and had to have some means of making a livelihood. This covered more or less everyone.

The government’s plan didn’t go as well as it had hoped. The missions had been in operation for more than 60 years. This was enough time to wipe out the Indian’s culture. The Indians living at the time of emancipation just didn’t know how--and in many cases didn’t want to--go back to the old ways.

So the scenario that played out at Mission San Luis Obispo repeated itself at all the other missions, including San Luis Rey. The commissioner of San Luis Obispo, Juan B. Alvarado, gathered the mission’s Indians and made a speech to them proclaiming their freedom and the boon it would be.

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As reported by George Wharton James in his In and Out of the Old Missions of California, “Alvarado... used all his eloquence to persuade the Indians to adopt the plan of freemen. [He said,] ‘Henceforth their trials were to be over. No tyrannical priest could compel them to work. They were to be citizens in a free and glorious republic, with none to molest or make them afraid.’

“Then he called for those who wished to enjoy these blessings of freedom to come to the right, while those who were content to remain under the hideous bondage of the Missions could go to the left.

Imagine his surprise and the chill his oratory received when all but a handful quickly went to the left, and those who at first went to the right speedily joined the majority.”

John Frazier John Frazier was born on a Rhode Island farm on July 18, 1832.

At 13, he went to sea with his uncle and followed the life of a sailor until 1860. During the time he spent on the bounding main, he had many adventures--some of which are hard to believe, although true, such as his capture by, and escape from, pirates and cannibals.

In 1881, Frazier, his wife, and six children traveled to San Diego and from there to the farm he bought from Tunison.

He started immediately on his task of drilling for water on the land.

An item in the April 2, 1882, issue of the San Diego Union reported, “Mr. Frazier has struck water at 85 feet in his artesian well a little south of San Luis Rey.” Because Frazier had gone to sea at 13, he had had only one year of formal schooling, and he was illiterate. So when in 1887 he

decided to “write” his memoirs, he dictated them, and the account is written in the third person. The period of well drilling is covered thus: “He realized the fact that the lands along the coast, which had been hitherto untouched, were very fertile and hastened to obtain a piece of land, where the town of Carlsbad now stands. Some of the old fogies told him he was crazy to attempt to raise anything so near the coast, but these same individuals bought their hay from him that same year and came miles to get his vegetables.

“The only thing which troubled him now was the scarcity of water and he believed he could obtain that by boring. He bored down till he struck rock then drilled. He sent for Mr. Mull, and experienced well driller. Mr. Mull worked on it for a while, the said he could go no father, but Mr. Frazier was still confident, and bought the machine, determining if possible to beat a good supply of water and at a depth of over four hundred feet struck a flow of mineral water. He continued on and struck a kind of cave which appeared to be filled with a kind of gas, it made such a roaring sound that it attracted the attention of everyone in the immediate vicinity.

The engineer came up to see what was the matter and Mrs. Frazier came out to see what was making such a raring. They filled up a few feet of the well for fear they would lose the mineral water, which has proved to be of great value.”

Carlsbad’s Founders With the financial failure of Carlsbad, the town’s founders went separate ways.

Gerhard Schutte and his family moved to National City in 1906. In 1920, he retired and he and his wife moved in with a daughter in Escondido. He died Nov. 8, 1925.

Samuel Church Smith sold his property in 1895 and moved to San

Diego, where he and his wife ran boarding houses.

John Frazier moved to Los Angeles, where he founded the Good Samaritan Mission. He died in Los Angeles on July 17, 1899.

Florence Shipley’s Marriage to Hugh Magee In my first history and in my second, I repeated the canard that Florence’s father Alexander was against her marriage to Hugh Magee because of the latter’s blood heritage. Since then, I’ve learned the opposite was the case. Alexander liked Hugh and got along well with him. The truth can sure ruin a good story.

Leo Carrillo’s Ranch Leo Carrillo’s ranch has been designated a Historic National Landmark, and the city finally opened it to the public in August 2003.

Conquistador’s grave is no longer marked with the cross erected

by Carrillo. The city took it down to prevent souvenir seekers from digging up the horse’s remains.

La Costa Oil Well While interviewing him for my first edition, Allan Kelly told me about the La Costa oil well, and that the winch was supposedly still in the chaparral somewhat north of Alga and a bit west of El Camino Real.

His instructions seemed specific enough that I enlisted Tom Sliwa, who I had coerced into taking the “modern day” photos for me because he was a very talented photographer, into helping me find it. Allan wasn’t specific enough. At the time, the area was a huge wasteland of shrubs, underbrush, and long grass. After about three hours of tramping through the wilderness, we finally found the winch hiding behind some scrub oak, and Tom took the picture that’s in this book.

Carlsbad: An Unabashed History of the Village by the Sea 63

It’s a good thing we made that search and took the picture. It’s the only one that I know of, and the winch no longer exists. It was destroyed when the shopping center and library were constructed on that piece of land.

To be fair, the destruction of the winch wasn’t wanton. At the time Tom and I found it, about two feet of its bottom part were buried in the vegetal detritus of 60 years, and rotted. It couldn’t have been moved without it breaking into little pieces.

The Encina Power Plant The Encina Power Plant no longer produces electricity.

Carlsbad-by-the-Sea Retirement Community Looking at Carlsbad-by-the Sea today, you’d never know it underwent nearly complete reconstruction in 1995 to bring it up to earthquake-resistant code. The original structure was what is called unreinforced masonry construction, which doesn’t hold together very well during an earthquake.

Much credit has to go to the retirement center’s owners for spending the extra time and money it took to keep the building as close as possible to its original design.

The Barrio My first history of Carlsbad, my second history of Carlsbad, and Marje-Howard Jones’s history of Carlsbad all call the barrio area of Carlsbad “Barrio Carlos.” The name makes sense, since “Carlos” is Spanish for “Charles.” But Carlsbad’s barrio was never called that. Indeed, it was never called anything special. Just “the barrio.”

And a final “thank you” to everyone who made this book and the two books before it possible.

Charles Wesley Orton July 2009

More Photos

The lobby of the Twin Inns when Eddie Kentner owned it. Note the Moorish doorways.

These chickens were the last to grace the corner at the Twin Inns.

They were carted away in 1986.

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Pio Pico with his wife and nieces.

The lobby of the grand Hotel Carlsbad in 1887.

Carlsbad: An Unabashed History of the Village by the Sea 65

Carlsbad’s first school: Calavera School

Gerhard Schutte in his later years.

The Rio Grande gas station at the corner of Elm and State.

Eddie Kentner’s “Tootsie K” ranch, where he raised chickens for the Twin Inns.

Carlsbad: An Unabashed History of the Village by the Sea 66

Doughboys at Roy Chase’s store during WWI.

An aerial view of the Carlsbad Hotel as it appeared in the 1940s.

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The California-Carlsbad Hotel used an old promotional piece from Schutte’s day to promote its new enterprise.

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