The Last Tomolo by Santa Barbara Historical Museum

Yol. X!l, No. 4

AUTUMN, 1966

N€TICIA5 QUARTERLY BULLETIN OF THE SANTA BARBARA HISTORICAL SOCIETY

The Last Tomolo (Copyright Applied For) By Clifford McElrath Tomolos were the large picturesque canoes made by the Indians of the Santa Barbara Channel and the off-shore islands. The tomolos were the only canoes made by any of the California Indians. Some historians think that perhaps they got the idea from the Aleuts, who are known to have raided the California coast as far south as Mexico. Undoubtedly some of the Aleuts, intrigued by the climate, stayed here and added their blood and culture to the native slock. The tomolos were described by Cabrillo when he sailed through the Santa Barbara Channel in 1542. They were large enough to carry twelve men, or more, pointed at both ends, and propelled by paddles. They were made of planks, which were of random lengths and widths. The Indians split the planks from driftwood, using any kind of wood that they could split and work with their stone wedges and obsidian knives. After labor iously fitting and shaping each piece, small holes were drilled along the edges and the plank literally was sewed in place with thongs. The finished tomolo is said to have had neither ribs nor framework. When finally sewed together, it was coated with tar, of which there were numerous deposits along the coast. An interesting thing about the tomolos is that, in addition to being the only canoe made by California Indians, they were the only craft made in North America by this same unique method. Similar boats were found along the coast of Peru. The result was a fast and seaworthy canoe. Cabrillo reports that the Indians had no trouble in keeping abreast of and even passing his sailing ships on their trip up the Channel. The channel Indians were expert fisher men and relied on the ocean for a large part of their food. The tomolos made is possible for them to go far out to sea in search of fish. It is known that they ventured as far out as San Nicolas and San Clemente Islands. They carried on a regular commerce with all of the Channel Islands, as well as up and down the coast. Most of the Indian mortars and pestles found along the Channel coast are made of rock which the tomolos brought from Catalina Island. At least a large part of the white 1

Clifford McElrath 1920

flint arrowheads found in California were made of flint brought from Santa Cruz Island. Many of them were made on the island. I have visited many times what we called the Indian mines on Santa Cruz. These mines were large holes, big enough to bury an automobile, where the flint had been dug out of the surrounding volvanic rock. Lying about were innumerable broken and imperfect arrowheads as well as the chips flaked off in making the same. The tomolos were used for a few years even after the Indians had been herded off to the missions and put to work at various occupations. Some may have been used to supply the missions and soldiers with fish. Probably one of the last places that they were made and used was at Dos Pueblos near Goleta. It was from here that what was probably the last tomolo in existence came, according to the story told me by at least three old vaqueros who worked under me on Santa Cruz Island. In the 1830s, the Indians at some of the missions, including Santa Bar bara, revolted. It was a peaceful revolt in that the Indians, becoming tired of hard work, coarse food, and being locked in unventilated barracks at night all for the doubtful benefits promised them in the hereafter, just walked away. This was followed by the hunting down and savage killing of Indians by drunken soldiers. A butchery that the Padres were unable to prevent al though they tried. Most of the Indians fled to the hills and some even crossed the mountains and never returned. Excepting for a handful, mostly old people, those living 2

around Goleta were among the Indians who fled inland. The tomolos on the beach rotted away, were buried in the sands, or swept to sea by storms. To day a specimen of a tomolo reasonably intact would be worth a fortune. In the 1860s and ’70s, and probably earlier, vaqueros were already going out to the Channel Islands to round up cattle and shear sheep that had been allowed to multiply in a semi-wild condition. Among these were the old men from whom I heard this story. When they and their companions landed at Prisoners Harbor on Santa Cruz Island, probably in the late ’60s or early ’70s, an old Indian in a canoe that they described as being very large, made of different sized planks, patched with skins and tar and all sewed together with thongs, paddled down to Prisoners Harbor from his camp a few miles east of that place. He greeted them with “Mielquieres” meaning in his broken Spanish, “I want honey”, as he no doubt had greeted other Spaniards when they came to the island. He was already known as Mielquieres by the vaqueros who had met him on earlier trips. As time went on and they saw Mielquieres on subsequent visits to the island, they gathered his story bit by bit. He had been taken from Santa Cruz Island together with his parents when he was a very small child. They were taken to the Mission and became mission Indians. He remembered very little about the Island. Before his parents died, they had told him many stories about their old home and always longed to return to it and the old life before the coming of the Spaniards. Mielquieres grew up with the same longing to leave the mission and to return to the island. When the Indians revolted, or shortly thereafter, instead of going into the back country or attaching himself to some rancho, as so many Indians did, he went to the vicinity of Goleta. There he took one of the abandoned canoes and paddled over to Santa Cruz Island, where he had lived ever since. His food consisted of fish, birds, seals, acorns, etc. His description as given me was that of an old man of medium height, powerfully built, with long hair. His body and clothes reeked of fish and seal oil. He wore mostly cast off clothing he had begged from the Spanish and had patched with skins. He lived in a small grass and tule hut at a spot a few miles east of Prisoners Harbor, which is to this day called Miel quieres. After hearing this tale, I rode over to where his camp had been with Quate Espinoza. He showed me the approximate location and we both searched for some sign, such as a depression in the ground, foundation work, or mortars and pestles, but we found none. Probably others had carried off any relics that he might have left. As to his ultimate fate, nobody knew anything. They saw him over a period of a few years on their infrequent visits to the island, when he came to the harbor saying “Mielquieres”. After that they never saw him again. His tuie and grass hut fell down and rotted away. Probably Mielquieres and his tomolo were wrecked in one of the sudden squalls that come up on the Channel. I like to think that he and his tomolo, 3

which was undoubtedly the last of its kind, were washed ashore and buried in the sands of his beloved island, to which he was the only one of his race ever to return.

AUTHORS FOOTNOTE I make no claim as to the historical correctness of the above story. An historian could probably punch it full of holes and any one who wants to is welcome so to do. It is based on the stories of old men who claimed to have known Mielquieres, the dates of the founding of the Mission, the revolt of the Indians, and his probable age when my friends knew him. They all dove-tail pretty well, including the location on the island that still goes by the name Mielquieres. It is a legend that I like to believe.

Shrcvc Ballard at Miramar with banana leaf surfboard.

Before the Freeway Came By Shreve Ballard My first acquaintance with Santa Barbara was in the winter and spring of 1909-10, when my mother, brother, sister, and I stayed for three or four months in one of the Miramar cottages. The beach in those winter days was wide and deserted, and a glorious wooden pier extended about three hundred feet out into the ocean. At the outer end was a hinged ladder which could be let down to water level, and from which one could board a small boat. The Doulton family owned and ran the Miramar, and their two teen and were age boys, Bob and Harold, kept a sailboat anchored off the pier known far and wide as expert sailors. Various other people anchored their boats near there from time to time. The Southern Pacific tracks were where they are now, but there was a small station at the Miramar, another one called “Montecito” near what 4

is now the Santa Barbara Biltmore, and a daily local train would stop on signal to take on passengers for either Santa Barbara or for the cities to the South. In order to board this train, the passenger to be, or someone in his behalf, would have to be at the station as the train was approaching, seize a rolled up red flag kept for that purpose, and wave it over the tracks until the train slowed down and stopped. As I remember it, the afternoon local came by about 2:20 P.M., at which hour the persons wanting to go to town would probably be finishing lunch. The tracks were visible from the Miramar dining room, and as the train would appear, coming from the direction of the Rincon, shoppers and friends would often leap up from the lunch table and run like mad to reach the station and bring the train to a stop. The Miramar in those days was a very simple family style hotel, no bar, no dancing, the main hotel building was near the tracks, the dining room looking out toward the ocean, and everything about the hotel, cottages, and the grounds was well ordered and delightful. A pool and billiard table was in a separate room off the lobby, and guests not interested in that game usually retired to their cottages shortly after dinner. In the mornings a familiar sight was that of the Filipino house boys riding their bicycles from the kitchen to one of the cottages, carrying on their heads the breakfast trays, precariously balanced, but never known to have been dropped or upset. It was during that winter that our family became well acquainted with Mrs. Charles E. Perkins, for whom the Southern Pacific kept a private car at the station in town, as her husband had for many years been President of the Burlington Railroad. A few years later her son, Charles E. Perkins, became President of the Burlington, so the family private car was continued, and I remember that Mrs. Perkins senior used to go in it every September to Pendleton, Oregon, to see the great Pendleton Roundup, during which the car would be sidetracked at Pendleton, and Mrs. Perkins and her friends would use it as their hotel. She was greatly interested in cowboys and riding, and our Santa Barbara cowboy artist, Ed Borein, was one of her close friends. Mrs. Perkins was killed during the Santa Barbara earthquake of 1925 in the collapse of a portion of the Arlington Hotel, and somewhere in that period her son, Charles E. Perkins, Jr., retired from the Presidency of the Burlington, and he and his sister Mary purchased what is now the Alisal Ranch near Solvang. Mr. Perkins is no longer living, but Mary, widely known as Mrs. M. Russell Perkins, maintains a lovely home on El Bosque Road in Montecito. In 1911 my mother bought the home where my wife and I now live. It is now 100 Miramar Avenue, but at that time was known as 24 Ocean View Avenue. We had a pleasant lawn fronting on the Coast Highway, which was a dirt and gravel road, and in back of our house there was a stable in which we kept four horses. The rest of the block was vacant, and at times our horses would be pastured there, roaming all the way to San Leandro Lane, and almost over to Hixon Road. There were two movie theaters in town, one of which was called “the Palace”, and I often rode in on my horse, tying him to a hitching rail in 5

back while I watched Broncho Billy Anderson or one of the other Western stars of those days. Many of the Westerns shown were made in the Flying A studio located on Mission street just west of State. Street cars ran up and down State Street, and at the foot of State they would turn Jeft and go out along what is now Cabrillo, which in those days we called “The Ocean Boulevard”, to a point near the present location of the Mar Monte Hotel which marked the end of the line. My brother and I, and other friends, used to ride our bikes in from Ocean View Avenue to that point, and then take the street cars the rest of the way to wherever on State Street we wanted to go. The Arlington hotel was flourishing on the site now occupied by the Fox Arlington theater, the elegant Potter Hotel was down by the beach, and the Potter theater was a glamorous night spot on lower Stale Street in which many fine concerts and theatrical performances were given. The Montecito Country Club was then located where the Music Academy of the West now is, the golf course rambled over the nearby slopes, and we young people had wonderful times at the Saturday afternoon dances. The Biltmore and the Coral Casino had not been built, and most of the beach activity centered at the Miramar beach, which was thronged all summer long with happy bathers swimming or lounging on the beach under bright umbrellas. In 1911 Mrs. Gardiner Green Hammond and her family came to Santa Barbara and bought the fifty acres or so along the beach which she named “Bonneymede”. There were six children in the family, Gardiner, Frances, Elizabeth, George, Esther, and Mary, and all of us who knew them were fond of them, and occasionally were fortunate enough to be invited to one of their fabulous parties. On their grounds they had bowling alleys and games of all sorts, but the great features were two enormous rope swings, suspended from forty and fifty foot towers with high platforms behind each swing to which those using them would climb before soaring off into space. George Hammond, one of the six children, lives today in his home adjoining the original family property, and he tells me that the poles for the great swings were telephone poles, and were erected for the family by the Southern California Telephone Company. Allen Longhead, inventor of the hydraulic brake, whose name was transposed into “Lockheed” for the famous someaircraft company, was a friend of the Hammond family, and would times land his seaplane on the ocean in front of Bonnymede, taxi in, and take some of the Hammond’s party guests for rides in it. In September of 1910 I entered Thacher School near Ojai, which was then called Nordhoff. We went by train to Ventura, there transferring to spur line, still operating, which ran along the Ventura river all the way to the town of Nordhoff. The passenger train, which ran once a day, was known as “The Cannonball”, and was usually a mixed train, one or two freight cars with the passenger car at the back. I well remember one time when some of us returning to Thacher got hold of a piece of rope about twenty feet long, and used it to tie a great log to the back platform of the passenger car. The log leaped, bounded, and spun in the air as the train gathered speed, and it was a glorious sight to see it whirling and bouncin once or twice landing on the roof of the car before the rope broke and set

it free.

Loekhcad Seaplane at Bonnymcde.

At Nordhoff we were met by a four horse stage coach, in which we rode in style up to the school, about four miles from town, where it is to day. In those days every boy in school and every teacher had a horse, and each one took entire charge of the care as well as of the exercising of his horse. Some of them hated it, but most of them loved it. All transportation was by riding on horesback or by horse drawn vehicle. Sundays, unless we were away on a camping trip, we rode our horses down to Nordhoff to go to church, tying the horses to a long hitching rail in the churchyard. Some few, unable or not caring to ride, went down to church in a four horse stage coach. Coming home for vacations, I often rode here from School over Casitas Pass, which was then a dirt road, and in my first year was the only road open between Santa Barbara and Ventura. Casitas was considered to be one of the most dangerous and difficult parts of the motor trip from Los Angeles to San Francisco, as it was narrow, steep, and winding, and with even a small amount of traffic on it, choking clouds of dust were forever interfering with visibility and causing slowdowns in the travel. In 1912 the road along the ocean, which came up only a few miles from Ventura, a narrow, rough, dirt road, was joined to the road running south from Carpinteria by the construction and opening of three causeways or enlarged “boardwalks” made of heavy planks and supported by a series of wooden piles driven into the wet sand of the beach. At high tide the water always washed back and forth under these causeways and occasionally splashed over them. They have long since been replaced by the modern concrete highway with which we are all familiar. 7

I Peter Edwards

Santa Barbara railroad station.

Early Railroading By Dr. Leo L. Stanley I was an early railroader into Santa Barbara. The first trains into this Mission city came from the south. But after the gap was completed between San Francisco and Los Angeles, at the beginning of this century, I rode the trains for a whole year. Here are the circumstances. Having graduated from Paso Robles High School in 1903 my teachers felt that I should go on to Stanford. They said I could earn my way through college by gardening, waiting on tables and other chores. Having been brought up in San Miguel, working in the harvests and caring for horses, I knew that work would not hurt me. I had managed to save up three hundred dollars. That first year at Stanford depleted my funds, with syllabus and laboratory and other fees, although I earned my room and board by “hashing”. There were no funds for the second year, since I had chosen the “long drag” in education, that is to study medicine, and there was no one able, or willing, to lend me money. Railroad trains had always fascinated me. They formed the life blood to the “outside” for San Miguel and other stations along the line. The blasts of the whistle, the clang of the bell, the chug of the locomotive, and the rattle of the cars on the rails were stimuli to things beyond. An opportunity came for me to railroad, not as a maintenance man, not as a ticket agent, not as a brakeman but as a news agent, then called a “Peanut Butcher.” A few indoctrination trips on the San Luis Local with an older “Butch” taught me the way to sell peanuts, popcorn and candy, cigars, cigarettes and tobacco—and daily papers and magazines—and the proper way to “handle the public”. The Local, in those days a very important train, was one of my first assignments. It stopped at San Miguel for a few moments, where a homesick boy could see what remained of his family —mother and sisters, driven afar by the Dry Year of 1898. With progress in salesmanship, that is, learning to handle the public and to increase sales for the Dennison News Company, I was advanced to better trains, the Sunset Limited, the Shore Line Limited, the Overland and others. 8

The overnight train, consisting of baggage cars, smoker, coaches and pullmans, left San Francisco at eight and with many stops arrived at Santa Barbara at seven the next morning. The first time I came to this beautiful mission town was aboard the night train as Newsboy in October 1904. There were two station stops in Santa Barbara at that time. The first was at Victoria Street and the second at State, the present depot. A large yellow, two storied rectangular building was the station. On the first floor was an “Eating House” operated by Mr. Neal, a hard working and energetic man who did most of the work in his restaurant himself. As soon as the train came to a stop, hungry passengers flocked to the dining room to get something to eat during the train’s twenty minute delay. Mr. Neal always gave the newsboy his breakfast without charge. He did this, for he knew that the peanut butcher would recommend his eatery and advise pas sengers that good food was served. But Mr. Neal always expected the boy to leave him copies of the Call, Chronicle and Examiner, all morning papers at that time. With these at five cents a copy and breakfast for twenty five cents the meal was no bargain. 1 tried to leave neartly folded used papers, but Mr. Neal informed me that he did not serve me used food and he would expect his papers to be fresh off the press. Mr. Neal later built a good hotel near the State Street Station and named it “The Neal”. At the Victoria, long horse-drawn carryalls or omnibuses were backed up to take passengers up town. And there were always numerous surreys, buggies, carts and saddle horses for other transportation. At State Street, engines and crew were changed. The round rouse was a short distance south. Near by was the wharf, and along the Playa was the wonderful Potter Hotel set back in a lawn-covered palm garden. Ordinarily, on the sidings were several private cars owned by eastern capitalists. Cali fornia was becoming an alluring tourist attraction. Many hotels, the ‘Coro nado” in San Diego, the “Raymond”, the “Green” and the “Virginia” in Pasadena, the “Potter” in Santa Barbara, the “Ramona” in San Luis, the “Del Monte” in Monterey, the “Paso Robles Hot Springs” at Paso Robles, the “Vendome in San Jose and the “Rafael” in San Rafael, all much of the same type of architecture, served the wealthy who came in large tourist groups to see this wonderful land. Of all the places along the line, Santa Barbara had for me the most appeal —its mountains, its harbor and seacoast, and the beautiful farms and citrus orchards on the coastal plain. The Mission and some very beautiful residences in well-kept yards added attraction. This city would be my choice if and when opportunity presented. But the nearest I ever came to being a part of it was the ten years as a member of the Rancheros Visitadores from 1935 to 1945. The railroad truck in those days, newly laid, was far from perfect. Ballast was faulty, curves were sharp, fills were unsettled, embankments not stabilized and the block system not yet put in. Our southbound train was stalled for twenty-four hours because of a violent storm that winter. At Surf, one of Robert Dollar’s fourmasted lumber schooners was pounding to destruction by the thundering waves. And a short distance beyond, the howling winds had blown sand across the tracks entirely blocking the way. Wholly unable to proceed, the train was helpless. Water diminished in the tender, steam was cut off, and there was a shortage of food in the diner. The newsboys’ 9

Chief of Police James Ross 1903

stock of fruit, peanuts and candy soon was exhausted. After great delay, maintenance crews were able to shovel the sand off the track and the train crept into Santa Barbara. Even here the storm had done its damage. Another train had been ma rooned and was sidetracked. Land slides north of Ventura had blocked the path and must be cleared before any train could proceed. Caught in the impasse was the Norris and Rowe Dog and Pony Show, a small rail-borne circus so very popular in those days. Instead of a one day appearance it had to hole up for over a week. As there were no trains out, this gave the newsboy a chance to see Santa Barbara. The street cars were running up State Street to the Mission. San Miguel Mission at this time was in a bad state of repair in spite of the Cele bration in September, 1897 for its Centennial. I had spent my boyhood not far away from it, knew Father O’Reilly, the priest, and enjoyed exploring and prying about this old edifice. Santa Barbara Mission, on the other hand, was in good repair, kept up by the devoted padres. President Theodore Roosevelt had visited the mission a few months before. I vividly recall seeing his picture taken in a doorway leading from the sacristy to the cemetery, in the arch of which was embedded a human skull. I had the opportunity to visit the Cottage Hospital and to meet several of the pretty nurses. This stimulated my desire to “go on with medicine”. Constable Ross always came down to the train. He was friendly with the crew and was always on the lookout for bums and hoboes who in those days 10

rode the blind baggage enroute to the sunny south. Officer Ross later became Sheriff of Santa Barbara County. And he was succeeded by his son, a mem ber of the Rancheros. As I recall, the sheriff of the period was Nat Stewart. He often rode our trains transporting prisoners to and from San Quentin. The railroad, except for the occasional arrival of a coastal steamer, was the only means of getting in and out of Santa Barbara, except for the stage coach over bad roads. Branch lines were necessities, and accommodation trains met the mainliners. “San Luis Obispo”, the brakeman would announce as he went through the coaches, “Change cars for Nipomo, Los Alamos and Los Olivos”. The South Pacific Coast, a narrow gauge, served this part of the country. “Guadalupe, change cars for Beteravia and Santa Maria”. “Surf, change cars for Lompoc”, “Ventura, change cars for Ojai”—and at Montalvo an engine, baggage car and coach were waiting to serve Saticoy, Newhall and way stations. Sixty long years have flown. The railroads displaced the stage coach. Airplanes are putting the trains in discard. Sixty years from now, those living may look back upon this period, and marvel at the changes which have taken place. Anyway, “Adios, Hasta la Vista.” Bob Bates 1905

Dr. Biggs Meets a Bandit* By Bob Bates ●From Dr. Biggs Letters, September 13, 1870—July 14, 1887.

Dr. Biggs was. practising without a degree when my father went to Santa Barbara, coached him, and heljjed him to take the medical course at the University of California, where he was when he wrote this letter of 9-13-70. In transcribing many of Dr. Biggs subsequent letters, I told my secretary to type only those portions which she thought interesting, indicating with dashes passages which she killed. This explains why so many of these letters seemed disjointed; and I am sure, too, that the typographical mistakes are hers and not his. Dr. Biggs, who spoke Spanish like a native, belonged to an English family living in Chili, and came to California with a party of “Young Bloods” during the Gold Rush. Too proud to return with them empty-handed to Chili, he stayed in California, came to Santa Barbara in 1851 and, although not a doctor, practised medicine, principally among the Spanish. He married the daughter of the original grantee of the Rancho El Rincon, which was bounded on the west by the Carpinteria Creek and included some 2200 acres in what is now Ventura County. Following the war with Mexico, all California land titles had to be validated; and Dr. Biggs’ father-in-law refused, for what reason I do not know, to go to Los Angeles for the validation, offering the

ranch to Dr. Biggs if he cared to do so. Only half of the ranch was validated to Dr. Biggs, who told my father that a bribe of $550 would have got him the whole Ranch. The most interesting story of Dr. Biggs, which my father told me, was his encounter with Joaquin Murieta. He was on his way to see a patient in the San Marcos Pass on horseback when he was stopped by a small band of horsemen, who started questioning him. He immediately suspected them to be bandits and nervously rolled a cigarettet and handed it to the leader. It was a typical gesture (of friendship). “That cigarette has saved your life”, said the leader. Then, turning to two or three of his men, he told them to lead Dr. Biggs to a cabin where a woman was about to have a baby. On the floor, in a corner, lay a man wrapped in bloody bandages; but nothing w.as said, and Dr. Biggs asked no questions. Volume One, No. 2, of the Santa Barbara County Medical Society had Dr. Biggs and my father arriving in Santa Barbara in 1873, whereas Dr. Biggs arrived on June 6, 1851, and my father in 1869; and the recently published “La Carpinteria” has him a native of Philadelphia, no doubt confusing him with Dr. Bard. Dr. Biggs was keenly interested in psychical research, as well as in hypnotism. In F. W. H. Myers’ “Human Personality and Its Survival of Bodily Death”, Case #543 B, Mr. Myers gives an account of Dr. Biggs’ ex periments with Don Benigno Gutierrez’ servant girl in Santa Barbara (men tioned in Dr. Biggs’ letters to my father) referring to it as “One of three cases of the production of cruciform marks reported by Dr. Biggs in Lima, appearing in the Journal S.P.R., Vol. Ill, p 100”. As to psychical research, Dr. Biggs never went to San Francisco without visiting a medium. On one such occasion, the spirit of a man of whom he had not thought for years purported to be speaking to him. “Give me some proof of which this medium could not possibly know”. Dr. Biggs asked. The reply was the single word, “Muscles”! Dr. Biggs and this man had crossed the Isthmus together twenty-five years before, and, arriving on the Pacific side, they and all the others in the party had had a muscle-bake on the beach. This man had over-eaten and had become deathly sick; and afterwards he had been known as “Muscles”! Dr. Biggs went back to Santa Barbara con vinced that he had talked with the spirit of an old acquaintance of whom he had scarcely thought in twenty-five years, until six months later when he received a letter from Spain from this very man who said he had been think ing a great dbal lately about Dr. Biggs and wondering how and where he was! ^Editors Note: As a very young man, Biggs had learned to roll, or make a cigarette with one hand from loose tobacco in his coat pocket. Few, if any Americans were capable of doing this.

Thomas M. Storke 1905

A Glimpse of Santa Barbara in the 1890's By Thomas M. Storke*

You have asked me to reminisce and tell you something of life in Santa Barbara in the early days. Of course, you mean my early days. I shall be happly to do so. In the 80’s and through the 90’s, the Arlington Hotel—that is, the old'and original hotel—was the center of social life of the area. It was the gathering place of convivial souls, young and elderly, rich and near-rich. Presidents, ambassadors and even a king were entertained at the hotel; and many of our local citizens participated actively. Pesident Harrison was here for three or four weeks in 1891. President McKinley was here for a few days in 1900. King Kalakaua spent many weeks during the years ’89 and ’90. He was one of the most convivial souls I mentioned above, and he was probablv the best customer of the old and famous Arlington bar—so much so that he accumulated an attack of delirium tremens and was taken to San Francisco for treatment, where he passed away. The King was very friendly and visited in many of the homes of so-called “up-town” residents. The Arlington bar and its accessory rooms, such as card rooms and a large pool room, were located on the extreme west end of the great veranda, which reached around two of the front sides of the hotel. The bar area was the gathering place of the guests and of many of our own business and pro fessional people. The days I am speaking of were almost wholly confined to the months of January, February and March. These three months attracted more tourists or guests than all the other nine months combined. Almost every day during this busy season the hotel was over-crowded and had made reservations for many that it could not care for. Many fam ilies who lived in the area between the hotel and the Mission opened their homes to the overflow. The old Arlington was to many of these local people part of their homes, and surely the center of all social activities. To many ●At the request of Selden Spaulding the author here presents for Noticias readers some colorful sidelights on Santa Barbara before the turn of the century.

of our own VIP’s, business and professional or retired, the Arlington—and especially the area I referred to as “the bar and accessory rooms”—was the family club. They met there in the late afternoon, most always with some distinguished guest. I recall several afternoons when we were joined by Count Minnoto, an Italian, who wintered in his home at the corner of State and Micheltorena Streets. These were the times when great wealth was accummulated by eastern barons through railroads and other financial institutions. Many of these wealthy barons, such the Lorillards, Duryeas, and many others whose names escape me, sent their young sons here to get a touch of the West—and, as one of them frequently said, to give him a chance to “sow his wild oats.” They were attracted here because in that particular period, this was probably one of the great sportsmen’s areas of the world. We had had many so-called “wet years” and our streams (and particularly the Santa Ynez River) were all flowing throughout the year, and Nature had provided a great stock of fish. Wild pigeons were here by the millions and remained for several months, which is no longer the case. Many of these young sports made their main headquarters at the Arl ington Hotel, but they spent a great deal of time at Mattei’s Tavern, also. It was not uncommon for a fisherman to go down to the Santa Ynez River in the late afternoon and in an hour bring back 90 to 100 fish. Of course there was no limit in those days. It was easy, also, to go out within a mile or two of the Tavern to get a bagful of wild pigeons or quail or doves. Again, there were no seasons. The “young bloods” were bent on giving themselves thrills, as well as anyone who might be in their view. They all had their saddle horses, and most of them were good horsemen. I frequently have seen four or five of them ride up to the Arlington Hotel where one man in particular (by the way, a local man) named Hiram Pierce would ride his horse down the veranda and into the bar. He did this until my good friend, the Sheriff, had to put a stop to it. Dixie Thompson, who was then manager and owner of the Arlington Hotel, was a great horseman. Sometimes, when he was riding on State Street, he might start backing his horse at Victoria Street and continue in this way for several blocks; and often these “young bloods” attempted to follow him. Some of them were very reckless and had utter disregard for their own lives and the safety of others who might be nearby. I recall one afternoon when Hiram Pierce and one of his guests (I do not recall who the guest was) drove down State Street with a span of fine horses. When they got to about Ortega Street, he threw the reins of the horses over their backs and applied the whip. The two “bloods” rode the carriage with these racing horses until the turn where Stale Street met the Wharh Neither was killed, but one suffered the results of a seriously fractured limb for the rest of his life. Getting back to the Arlington bar, there were several card rooms and almost every afternoon there were games of Hearts, Pedro, and Poker going on most of the afternoon and into the evening. The stakes were usually small and no one that I ever knew suffered any losses that hurt. I well remember one evening when a group of five or six, including myself, were 14

planning to enjoy a game of poker when one of the group proposed to play a prank on a prominent member of our own group. The poker players that day were: Fred Hampsh, a guest from New York, the late Sam Stanwood, Clio Lloyd (later a prominent Mayor of the city), Herbert Rogers, myself, and our Sheriff. Herb Rogers proposed that the prank^ be perpe trated on the Sheriff. (I am not disclosing the name of the Sheriff because the story 1 am about to tell may give offense to some members of his fam ily, of whom there are two or three living. I must first say that I helped elect this particular man sheriff, and we were close and intimate friends. I have known every sheriff for the past eighty years, and this particular one was as brave a man as 1 ever knew. He served until his death and was a truly great sheriff.) As I have said, all of us amateur poker players were in on the prank excepting only the Sheriff, who was to be the victim. The three newspapers of the times had been carrying on a ^ crusade against and women of easy virtue. Police were peeking gambling and against men fearful that the in windows and even every penny-ante poker player was public hysteria might catch them. We at the Arlington felt that we were immune, however, and we were not particularly careful as to whom we invited to play and when. The six of us were seated at the table with our chips before us. We had been playing for perhaps an hour when one of the players excused him self. As was always the case, some of us had accummulated more chips than had the others. The Sheriff, who was known as a good poker pl^ei better than the rest of us—had accummulated more chips in front of him than had the others. The card room was on the ground floor, just off the bar, and its only window was facing Sola Street, there being garden ings between the main building and the street. The window sill was probably four feet above the ground level and about the same distance from the floor level. Suddenly, the window began to open! After it had opened about two feet, there appeared a policeman’s helmet with a handkerchief over the individual’s face! It so happened that the Sheriffs seat was im mediately in front of this appearing policeman’s helmet. The Sheriff, who, as 1 have said, was the only one not in the prank, made a bolt for the door, scattering his chips all over the room. He rushed through the bar, where he was seen to rush on through the pool room. A boy saw him running up half hour, a friend “rescued” the main stairway. Sometime later, maybe him from the cupola. The “boys” did not allow him to forget the incident, although shortly afterward he again joined our poker games. Incidentally, his luck held out for a long time and some of us lost our pennies to him. As I have indicated, the perpetrator of this diabolic prank on our good Sheriff was none other than Herb Rogers. Herb was a member of the prominent Rogers family, there being three brothers, all successful business men. Herb was a real character of the early days.

»●*«% ^*

Dwight Murphy (left) and ranger Tom Dinsmorc at Madulce, 1906. Mr. Dinsmore later was a Santa Barbara County supervisor.

Nicholas the Bul l By Dwight Murphy During the early years of 1900 a young man, George Potter from Buffalo, New York, came to Santa Barbara in search of health. He was a most likeable fellow and soon made many friends. He enjoyed horseback riding and often went on camping trips into the Santa Ynez Valley. After meeting George while he was on one of these camping trips we had many rides together. George decided to try cattle ranching on a small scale, and so he leased the Carl Stoddard Ranch in Mono Canyon. Carl at that time had on the ranch five or six head of cows and a mean, big, black bull named Nicholas. This bull was always on the prod. George decided to put a few weaner steer calves on the leased property to build up the stock a little. The calves pur chased were to be delivered at the place where the old Mountain Drive road crossed Cold Spring Canyon. George asked Lin Patterson and me to go with him w'hen he drove the calves over the Cold Spring trail to the Santa Ynez River and then up Mono Canyon to his ranch. It was a hot summer day when the calves arrived. It proved to be a difficult trip for the small calves and several of them became so tired that they laid down on the trail and refused to move. The stronger ones were urged along to the lop of the mountain and from there down to the Santa Ynez River it was comparatively easy going. During the night, when the 16

weather had cooled, several of the stragglers made their way to the river, and early in the morning they were all driven up the Mono Canyon to the Stoddard Ranch. When we arrived at the gate across Mono Creek, we were met by the black bull, Nicholas. He paid no attention to the calves but the horseback riders seemed to cause him considerable concern. After we got through the gate, Nicholas planted himself on the trail with his head lowered and bellowed—throwing dirt with his forefeet onto his back—and seemingly challenged anyone to his right to the trail. He had the reputation of being a mean and dangerous bull and usually, when he challenged anyone and asserted his right to hold the trail, the rider would manage in some way to leave the trail and to ride by him. However, one day a hunter on horse back who had been out looking for quail was challenged by Nicholas. The rider had double barreled shot gun and decided he would teach Nicholas some manners. He rode to one side of the bull in order to give Nicholas a shot from one of the barrels of the gun, but he rode far enough away so that when he discharged the gun it would not seriously injure the animal— only give him a jolt. His idea was to plant a few shot in his hide. I was told that when the bunched shot hit Nicholas, he shook for a second or two and then got out of that area on the run. After this episode Nicholas seemed to realize it was safer for him to stay in back instead of in front of a rider, and thereafter the no longer mean bull followed the horsemen until he became tired and would then leave. When his two years’ lease was up Potter sold what cattle he had and gave up ranching. Due to the brushy country in which they, were located the cows that had been left on the ranch by Stoddard soon became wild. They would graze during the night and hide in the brush in the daytime. Several were seen and shot by hunters. Stoddard sold Nicholas to a butcher in Goleta, who stated that after he had been butchered several small holes were found in his hide. The grazing of cattle in Mono Canyon ceased about that time as the feed was scarce and it was difficult to handle cattle in the thick brush on the mountains.

Trade Systems of the Chumash Indians By Timothy S. Hillebrand Juan Rodriquez Cabrillo, conducting an exploration of the coast of Alta California in 1542, gives us the first account of European contact with the Channel Indians. On November 7, Rodriquez landed on Catalina Island; November 10, he laid anchor at Ventura; November 14, a landing was made at Rincon; November 17, at Gaviota; November 18, at Point Concepcion. At each of these places the Indians conveyed to the exporers that there were men like them (the Spanish) in the East. Presumably this information diffused from the Southwest regarding the Vasquez de Coronado expedition. In 1595, Rodriquez Cermeno lay anchor off a Santa Barbara Indian village in order to trade silk, taffeta, and wool blankets for acorns, and as the Indians 17

paddled their canoes to the ship to greet the Spanish it is noted in his Journal that they shouted, “Afe.rico/” Because the Chumash Indians of the Santa Barbara Channel possessed information of events taking place hundreds of miles distant, we must assume that there was an intricate system of communication in operation. At first consideration this seems puzzling for aboriginal California represents the most diverse linguistic area ever recorded by ethnographers. However, on closer inspection it is possible to delineate, with some accuracy, the actual system of communication existing in aboriginal times. The basis for such widespread communication was trade alliances between various tribes. Pro liferation of information was only a latent or secondary function of the system of trade relations. Before discussing the actual trade patterns it is necessary to describe the mechanism of primitive trade. First, there is the problem of language. How could people communicate if there were so many different languages in California? Anthropologists have shown that the principle of exogamy (where a man is required by his culture to take a wife from another group) can operate to form alliances between groups. Such was likely the case on the marginal areas of Chumash culture, and if so, trade arrangements and obligations were a natural complement. Therefore, we conclude that the trade system in which the Chumash participated was a directional move ment of goods and information through alliances between groups, probably founded on the principle of exogamy. Further, it should be clear that one person or a group of persons did not accompany the goods from one extreme of the system to the other; rather, transmission was accomplished by dif fusion of goods between groups. The boundaries of Chumash culture are given by Kroeber as follows: “The Chumash are predominantly a coast people, and were more nearly mari time in their habits than any other Californian group. They held the three northern large islands of the Santa Barbara archipelago—Anacapa does not appear to have been inhabited permanently. They clustered thickly along the calm shore from Malibu Canyon westward to Point Concepcion, and from there extended northward along the more boisterous and chillier coast as far as Estero Bay. Inland, in general, they reached to the range that divides the direct ocean drainage from that of the great valley; except that in the west their frontier was the watershed between the Salinas and the Santa Maria and short coast streams; and in the east, some small fragments had spilled into part of the most southern drainage of the San Joaquin-Kern system. The Carrizo plains are doubtful as between Chumash and Salinas, and may not have contained any permanent villages.” In terms of goods exploited, traded and received in various environ ments, the Chumash may he divided into three populations—Island, Coastal (Mainland), and Inland. The Coastal Chumash are known ethnographically and archaeologically for their production of strings of shell money. This form of currency was supplied as far North as the Maidu Indians living in the Feather and American River drainages; and as far South as the Digueho Indians of the Imperial Valley and Northern Baja. Value of the beads was determined according to length of measurement around the circumference of

the hand. 18

In addition to shell money, other items originating in the Chumash area found their way to distant regions. The mainland Chumash inhabiting the coastal regions supplied wooden vessels inlaid with Haliotis shell to the Ketanemuk Indians in the Tehachapi Mountains: seeds, acorns and bows and arrows to the Island Chumash; shell beads, whole pimso clam shells, Haliotis shells, Olivella shells, keyhole limpet shells, cowrie shells, sea urchin shells and dried starfish to the Southern Valley Kokuta (See Joaquin Val ley); shell beads, shell cylinders, steatite, asphaltum, fish to the Tabatulabal Indians of the Kern River; steatite vessels, columella beads, possibly also wooden vessels to the Salinans on the Salinas River. In return the mainland Chumash received chipped stone implements, a dark stone for digging stick weights, fish bone beads, shell beads and baskets from the Island Chumash; fish, obsidian, salt from salt grass, seed food, steatite beads, various herbs and vegetables from the Southern Valley Yokuts; pihon nuts from the Tubatulabal; deer skins, acorns, fish and grass hoppers from “the interior”; and unspecified goods originating in the Mo jave area. Steatite or soapstone, archaeologically unknown in previous local se quences, was an important item in Chumash material culture. From this raw material the Chumash fashioned bowls for cooking vessels (such as the one recently acquired by the museum), griddles and small carved effigies of whales. Locally there are three areas from which this material could have been derived: Santa Catalina Island, Figueroa Mountain and near Arroyo Grande. Probably the most abundant source of soapstone was Catalina Island. Steatite quarries on the island show considerable evidence of mining. Also archaeologists have uncovered quantities of steatite associated with burials on the island, while it is found only infrequently on the mainland. A further consideration is that since culture per se is a maximizing system in terms of adaptation to an environment, it is more practical to transport a heavy, dense, raw material like steatite by boat rather than overland. Once the bowl had been processed the weight was decreased so that trade with such distant areas as Tehachapi was more easily facilitated.

Activity Report—Women's Projects Board A new season of activities began for the members of the Women’s Projects Board at their morning meeting in the Fernald House on September 8. Reports on the summer events were given by committee chairmen, and plans made for future fund-raising parties to be held during the Fall and Winter months. The 7th Annual Casa Tour of Adobes in the area of El Pueblo, on Sunday, July 24, under the chairmanship of Mrs. John H. Locklin, was reviewed and again considered highly successful. Appreciation to all who helped in making it so w'as expressed. As the maintenance of the Fernald House is dependent upon the funds raised at this event, in large part, it may be of interest to report that a portion of these monies has already been spent for some much-needed painting upstairs and down, under the direction of Mrs. Leo McMahon, House chairman. The entire house has had a refurbish ing, and is quite lovely. 19

Mrs. Lloyd Wheeler, Ways and Means chairman, reported on the im promptu Fiesta “Open House” held on August 6, at the Carrillo-Covarrubias Adobe by the WPB. Although members had been promised a vacation in August, everyone cheerfully dressed in costume and served as hostesses to show visitors through the adobe. Special exhibits had been arranged by the Mmes. McMahon, James Boyce, Hamilton Greenough, Wilson Forbes and George Finley. These included a large number of the Historical Society’s collection of Edward Borein etchings; exquisite Spanish shawls and fans; mannequins dressed in Victorian costumes, and the favorite Spanish dancing dresses once worn by Teresa de Piazzi Janssen; also early California furni ture and household furnishings, china and glassware. Punch and cookies were served in the garden under the festive palm-covered ramada, by Mr. and Mrs. Lloyd Wheeler. Future events include a pot-luck supper at the Fernald House for mem bers, their husbands and guests, on the evening of September 30. An auction of “white elephants” donated by members will precede dinner, with Mrs. Robert Janda in charge of arrangements. October 28 and 29 were dates chosen for the Table-Setting Show with Mmes. Edwin W. Deuter and Park Darlington as co-chairmen. This will be a display of heirloom linens, china, glassware and silverware, as well as unusual flower arrangements. The National Charity League will meet at the Fernald House on Novem ber 21; their senior girls, the Ticktockers, have assisted as docents on Sunday afternoon Open House for several years—an opportunity to learn the history of their community while giving valuable service. This assistance is greatly appreciated by WPB. On December 7 the Woodland Garden Club, which includes several members of the WPB, will meet at the Fernald House “.... in order to enjoy the charming, old-fashioned Christmas atmosphere . . .” The following day, December 8, members of the WPB will entertain prospective and Associate members at a special Christmas Tea. December 5 and 6 will find the board members at the House busily hanging festoons and holly, and placing orna ments on the tree in the bay window of the parlor. These old-fashioned decorations have drawn extra-large numbers of visitors to the House for several years, as they find in them nostalgic reminders of their own child hood Christmases. Following the December 18 Open House, the two homes will be closed to visitors, re-opening January 7, 1967. Members of the board are looking forward to hearing about historic homes which were visited by acting museum director Timothy Hillebrand, during his visit to Williamsburg and other restored areas, while on the east coast this summer. It is always helpful to hear “how others do it”. Mrs. McMahon, in charge of Acquisitions for the WPB, has suggested that anyone who has a treasured heirloom wedding dress or suit of the Spanish or Victorian era, as well as shoes, shirts, hats, petticoats, night dresses, baby clothes, laces, flowers, ribbon, etc., should consider giving them to either the Historical Society for display, or to the Women’s Projects Board. So many requests are made throughout the year for such exhibits, that it is important to have new material available. Books on early California history, as well as family genealogies are also welcomed, especially by the Historical Society. Donors may take tax deductions for such gifts. 20

Through the kindness and generosity of Mrs. James Logue (Bernice Trussell), the niece of Miss Maria Lorenza Trussell whose death was reported in the last issue of Noticias, the Historical Society and Projects Board have received many wonderful items from the Trussell estate. Among the items were a beautiful spinet which came around the Horn in the early 1860’s—a gift to his daughters from Miss Trussell’s step-grandfather, Isaac J. Sparks.* A parian wax Christ Child creche under an oval glass dome, a pair of brass candlesticks, a music box, Victorian lamp, a leather hand-tooled side saddle, leather brass-studded chest from Old Spain, a Victorian sofa and Ramona Burke Trussell’s rocking chair, also many books, family pictures, linens, laces, fans, and dishes, were among the gifts. Especially treasured is the Fiesta costume worn by both Miss Maria Trussell and her sister, Lucinda Trussell de la Torre for the parades in the early years of Old Spanish Days in Santa Barbara. We are deeply grateful to the Trussell family for sharing these mementos with us. ●See: 317-319.

‘Mountain Men in the Fur Trade”, ed. by LeRoy R. Hafner, 1965, pp. WiLBERTA M. Finley

GIFTS

Gifts from the following are gratefully acknowledged by the Society: Mrs. Lois W. Austin Automobile Club of Southern California Mr. Jerome K. Belden Mr. Eric H. Boehm Miss Pearl Chase Miss Tulia de la Cuesta Mrs. Myron S. Curtis Mr. A. P. Dana Mr. Joseph L. Dominy Mrs. Wilson Forbes

Mr. and Mrs. Emil Geist Mr. S. J. Henriksen Mr. and Mrs. Timothy S. Hillebrand Mr. and Mrs. B. B. Horner Dr. Hilmar 0. Koefod Mr. Dwight Murphy Mrs. William L. Otte Mr. Stewart Paulin Mrs. Almira Pollard Mrs. William S. Porter

Mr. John Poole Mrs. A. H. Schuyler, Jr. Miss Marie Louise Spader Mr. E. Selden Spaulding Mr. Paul G. Sweetser Mrs. J. Thurman Estate of Maria L. Trussell Mr. Kenneth Urlon Mrs. Donald Welch Mrs. Laurence Wheeler Mrs. Lloyd F. Wheeler

NEW MEMBERS ACTIVE Fresno Genealogical Society Mr. William 0. Hendricks Mr. and Mrs. Finis Haskins Mr. Gale Mathews

SUSTAINING Mr. and Mrs. Donald Dunn Mr. David Kyle Mrs. Ruth McFadden The New Comers Club

Miss Marie Phelps Sweet The California Historical Society

Mr. Harry W. Haynes

CONTRIBUTING

IN MEMORIAM Mrs. Robert Bates Miss Claire Coursen Dr. H. E. Henderson Mrs. Louis Taylor

HISTORICAL SOCIETY MEMBERSHIP Classes of membership: Benefactor, |100; Patron, |25; Contributing, $15; Sustaining, $10; Active, $7.50; Student, $5. Dues are tax deductible. MAILING address: iJ6 E. DE LA GUERRA STREET, SANTA BARBARA, CALIFORNIA

Non-Profit Org. U. S. Postage PAID

QUARTERLY BULLETIN OF THE SANTA BARBARA HISTORICAL SOCIETY

Sonta Barbara, Colif. Permit No. 534

136 EAST DE LA GUERRA STREET SANTA BARBARA, CALIFORNIA

SANTA BARBARA HISTORICAL SOCIETY OFFICERS Dr. Hilmar 0. Koefod

President First Vice President... Second Vice President.

Edward Selden Spaulding Mrs. Wilson Forbes Paul G. Sweetser

Secretary Treasurer Past President

Mrs. Henry Griffiths Thomas J. McDermott

DIRECTORS Mrs. Charles H. Cannon Rev. Virgil Cordano John D. Gill Mrs. W. Edwin Gledhill Yale B. Griffith

John Jordano, Jr. Mrs. Godwin Pelissero Lockwood Tower Garrett Van Horne Hugh j. Weldon

Timothy S. Hillcbrand. Mrs. Henry Griffiths Wilberta M. Finley

Elmer H. Whittaker Dr. Irving N. Wills John Galvin* Thomas M. Storke* * Honorary Directors

Acting Museum Director Executive Secretary .Chairman, Women’s Projects Board