Recollections of the Chinese and Chinatown in Santa Barbara

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Vol. XIII No.4

Autumn, 1967

NOTICIAS Quarterly Bulletin of the Santa Barbara Historical Society

The Shrine

by Walter Kong This Chinese shrine was once the sacred property of the Santa Barbara branch of Chee Kung Tong, a widespread secret society dedicated to the liberation of China from the Manchu yoke and whose members, indeed, played a major role in toppling the last monarchy in China. Dr, Sun Yat Sen, leader of the Chinese revolution which overthrew the Manchus in 1911, was a member of Chee Kung Tong. For years he shuttled between China and America, visiting the Chee Kung Tongs wherever they existed and exhorting his countrymen to rise up against the Manchus. He had undoubtedly visited the local Chee Kung Tong and before this very altar must have made many of his fiery speeches.

According to the writings on it, the shrine was handcarved in Kong Mun, a city near Canton, in the summer of 1899 and presumably sent to Santa Barbara the same year. The names of the seventy one donors, evidently mem bers of Chee Kung Tong, are carved on several panels of the shrine together with the names of the districts in Kwangtung province from which they came.

The date of the carving is significant, for it was at the turn of the century when the revolutionary movement against the Manchu dynasty was ominously gaining momentum and the headquarters of Chee Kung Tong everywhere were the plotting places of the Chinese revolutionaries. Importing the shrine at this time indicated that the Santa Barbara Chee Kung Tong was in the process of being organized with the purpose of plunging into the activities of the coming revolution.

To a society such as Chee Kung Tong, the shrine was as essential to its life and function as the men who composed it. It represented a spiritual force that welded the members into one cohesive unit. It solemnized the rituals and ceremonies of the society and made sacrosanct the oaths taken in its presence.

Before the shrine, the men of Chee Kung Tong were sworn as blood brothers, all vowing to fight together against the hated Manchus. Before it, too, the newly initiated received the secret signs of the society with which to identify himself

and to recognize his brothers whenever and wherever he might come across them. For even more important purposes, this shrine was installed by Chee Kung Tong as the spiritual fount of its strength and as a constant reminder to its members of the sacredness of the cause in which they were engaged.

The deity to which the members of Chee Kung Tong paid their homage was Kuan Yu Teh, or Kuan Kung, whose picture is in the recess of the shrine.

A war hero of the period of the Three Kingdoms, 221-280 AD, Kuan Kung was not only noted for his valor, but was profoundly respected for his great integrity. Once, in an emergency, his enemies conspired to place the wife of an absent general, ostensibly to protect her, in his tent for the night. Kuan Kung held a lighted candle and circled the tent until dawn. Apotheosized in later years, Kuan Kung became the beloved god of many households and societies. Chee Kung Tong enshrined him as an inspiration to its members who were about to take part in a history-making event.

Dragons and phoenixes adorn various parts of the upper section of the shrine. The two large dragons on the top central panel are shown fighting for the flaming pearl of omnipotence. Because they are clothed with many symbolical meanings, the dragon and phoenix are much used by the Chinese artist to display his talent. The phoenix is said to have a heavenly plumage and makes its appearance only when a benevolent government is ruling the country, when an era of peace and prosperity is about to dawn, or when a great man is being bom. On the day of Confucius' birth, it appeared on a wutung tree and sent forth a divine melody. As a symbol, the phoenix stands for beauty, harmony, prosperity, happiness, and a bright future.

As for the dragon, it has always stood for power and authority. Said to be a rain-giver, it is regarded as the regenerating force of nature and sym bolizes benevolence. Having an ability to change into different forms, it stands for versatility and wisdom. And forever it symbolizes good luck and good omen.

Going to the lower section of the shrine, some of the figures carved there are stage characters in the act of performing a play. Others are in combat motion, recreating scenes of some famous battles in Chinese history. Still others are portraying well-known events and romances, historical or fictional, that are dear to the hearts of the Chinese storyteller and his listeners.

Old residents tell us that Chinatown once occupied the whole first block of Canon Perdido Street between Anacapa and State Streets. Chee Kung Tong stood where the El Centro building now stands. The success of the Chinese revolution of 1911 removed the raison d'etre of Chee Kung Tong and reduced its shrine to a mere object of art. Doomed to neglect, the shrine continued to remain on the premises of Chee Kung Tong until the building was sold some time in the twenties. Subsequently, it was moved one block further east and housed in one of the buildings in what was then the new Chinatown, which Mr. Elmer Whittaker had expressly built for the Chinese.

By this time, all the original members of Chee Kung Tong had disappeared, either long gone to China to fight in the revolution or taken by death. The few professed members that were around showed no interest in the shrine which was in danger of getting lost or destroyed. It was then that Mr. Whittaker, sensing its artistic and historic value, took it upon himself to safeguard it.

This Mr. Whittaker did for forty years, always regarding it as a trust placed with him by the Chinese people.

In 1962 when Mr. Whittaker was constructing the present building of the Historical Society, he generously offered to add a separate room, as a donation from him and Mrs. Whittaker, to house the shrine. He and the members of the Chinese community felt that a shrine which had so much to do with the war against Manchu tyranny should be kept in a place such as the Santa Barbara Historical Society Museum.

So here it is, a masterpiece of woodcarving, resplendent in its gold leaf finish and, in essence, a monument to the original members of the Santa Bar bara Chee Kung Tong who were freedom-fighters of the Chinese revolution of 1911.

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In the Days of Pon Sue

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by William A. Edwards % '-f

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Around the turn of the century Santa Barbara was a quiet resort town of six thousand at the end of a branch line of the Southern Pacific. Except for poor and often impassable roads the main travel was by steamer up and down the coast, and by Southern Pacific Railroad from the east: For this reason there was nothing here to attract any manufacturing business with their groups of employees of definite ethnic character.

Among those of us who had arrived earlier, the most distinctive and picturesque element were the Chinese. Coming from a quite different civiliza tion from ours, they brought their customs with them; and their language, clothing and habits kept them apart.

In those towns where enough of their countrymen lived, a "Chinatown"

was sure to develop, and here they duplicated on a small scale the civiliza tion they had left behind across the Pacific. It would not be a "ghetto as we use the word, but a section of their own choosing, usually in a better part of the business district, where their merchants set up shop and where those Chinese living or working in the vicinity would gather for their social life during their free hours.

Santa Barbara's Chinatown was the first block of Canon Perdido Street east of State, where a long hitching rail and horse trough stood at the corner of a vacant lot now occupied by the Security First National Bank and running toward the ancient Presidio as far as the Lobero Theatre on Anacapa Street.

At this time State was the only paved street in town. Near Canon Per dido, it had some wooden plank sidewalks and these continued into China town. The buildings in Chinatown were of simple frame construction, many with a second story balcony supported on wooden posts at the curb.

My recollections of the interiors are of small rooms, containing merchandise in bright boxes, and exposed food giving off unusual Oriental odors. Behind this was a maze of narrow stairways and passages leading to more small rooms where one would likely come upon an old Chinaman in a bunk smoking a little narrow pipe which we all believed contained opium.

The Arlington Hotel at the upper end of the State Street business sec tion was the focal point of local gatherings and here one would expect to find all the important visitors to our town. So it was not strange that across the street Nathan Bentz of San Francisco maintained a branch of his Chinese furniture and art goods store.

Many of our houses had Chinese pieces such as tables, chairs, folding screens and even the curtains of strings of beads that would be brushed aside as one passed through them between the rooms. The candle light from paper Chinese lanterns was a frequent type of illumination at our evening parties. As at this time pottery containers were still used by the Chinese exporters for ginger, tea, soya sauce, etc., the empties were sought after for their decorative value; and in Diehl's Grocery, close to Chinatown, whose soda fountain was the hangout of the younger set, the walls were lined with empty tea and ginger jars, any one of which would bring joy to a present collector.

Like most emigrant people they naturally took to those occupations to which they were accustomed or which we earlier residents would rather have others do for us. These early Chinamen consequently are best remembered as cooks, laundrymen, gardeners and laborers. Their truck gardens produced attractive fruits and vegetables which they marketed from door to door.

As laundrymen they were renowned. The laundries that I remember were small buildings on the side streets of the business area where from the sidewalk we could see them working. It was not unusual to see one take a sip of water and with a modified "Bronx cheer" moisten the garments for ironing. This did not seem to prevent an attractive bundle being delivered later in a light covered wagon.

Their oriental dress and "Pidgin English" made them a natural prey for small boys and toughs who took delight in pestering them, with rocks and frightening their horses as they went about their daily business.

Most of the ranches and many of our friends in town had Chinese cooks who were a recognized part of the family group. On the ranches they fitted in as cooks for the ranch hands or for the family. At the San Julian Ranch where my father often went on business I was surprised on the first trip when I accompanied him, to be greeted by the cook as "Mr. Edwards" but my father was "Hello Charlie."

At this time we were living about a mile from Chinatown, and in the garden just behind our house was a little building about 12 by 20 feet, half of which, unfloored, was our woodshed, and the other half, having a wooden floor, a small closet and a minimum of simple but comfortable furniture, we called "The Chinaman's Room."

The Chinese cook I remember best was Pon Sue, who was with my family

for many years. He was a surprisingly good cook, expert in preparing dishes which he himself didn't eat, as he preferred rice and other Chinese food. For several years after he left we had other Chinese cooks with their oriental clothes and pigtails: without the latter, we were told, they could not return to China.

However, at the overthrow of the Manchu Dynasty about 1912, the pigtails disappeared. These early cooks were more like old retainers who took an inter est in all of us children and seemed to enjoy doing things for us. They seemed content to be employed away from their friends, but on their days off they would all go to visit in Chinatown. On those days they put on their best oriental clothes: quilted coats (which we thought were too hot, but which they said kept the heat out), a high-sided skull cap inside of which their pigtails were neatly coiled, and their felt shoes, more like slippers, having slightly turned up embroidered toes. These appeared to be of a soft, flimsy material but they must have been quite sturdy, for I recall frequently seeing discarded ones used on ranch wagons to line brake shoes.

Before the 4th of July we always got presents of firecrackers, and on Chinese New Year, their big holiday, they always came through with gifts of Chinese candy, litchi nuts, and more fireworks. Then in the evening we all went down to Chinatown for the big celebration. The street was even more richly decorated than usual with Chinese lanterns and banners, the Dragon marched through the streets, and ten foot strings of firecrackers were set off, hanging from wires stretched over the street between the second story balconies.

Though there were comparatively few Chinese women in town several families had children in the public schools. Soon after I started grade school a little Chinese girl was in my class. She was the daughter of one of the laundrymen. It happened one afternoon that I was leaving school alone. When I reached the street her father drove up in his delivery wagon and on learning that his daughter was in my class he asked me if I would tell the teacher that her father was outside and wanted to take her home. Like an obliging boy I went to the class, but instead of giving the message as requested I opened the door a little and shouted, "Can Margaret Chung Wung be excused?". The class all thought it very funny and for a few days I heard no end of it.

Although the Chinese are proverbial gamblers, the shortage of women was an added incentive to the purchase of lottery tickets. It seems that every man hoped to make a killing, enough to go to China and bring his wife over; or to stay in China to enjoy his fortune. We heard that one well known Santa Barbaran's cook did get a winning number that enabled him to revisit China, but he didn't return with a wife and the family lost a good cook.

At approximately the time that the Chinese cut off their queues the next generation of young Chinese was coming along. They were Americanized and better integrated but as household cooks they could not take the place of the earlier men who were gradually disappearing, and we realized that the old relationship would never return.

Recollections of the Chinese and Chinatown

by Robert W. Bates My recollection of Chinatown in the nineties is of one block of Canon Perdido Street, the heart of Chinatown, between State and Anacapa ending at the old Lobero Theatre. It consisted of ramshackle frame buildings, one and two-story, unpainted and out of plumb, and many with outside stairways.

China New Year was the big day in Chinatown, and a big day for us kids.

I could never understand why the schools did not close as for the 4th of July and other important holidays. The highlight of the celebration was the setting off of the "firecracker pole." This was a mast with numerous ropes of firecrackers attached to its head and pegged to the ground many feet away, all of which were lighted simultaneously. It was something to remember! It was the one day, too, when Chinatown held open house, and not only the street but the joss houses were filled with visitors.

These joss houses were fascinating. I remember only two but believe that there were others. They were on the 2nd floor reached by an outside stairway, and each a single room. The altar was at one end, beautifully decorated in lacquer and gold and about shoulder-high to a small boy, and covered with

Chinese delicacies: "China" candy consisting of Litchi nuts, candied fruits, candied coconut, etc.! We kids would reach up and snitch a piece when we thought we were not being watched, and perhaps we were not, though I doubt it.

On one China New Year on my way up the outside staircase to the joss house, and on a landing halfway up where the stairs made a right angle turn, I noticed a door directly in front of me. I pushed it open and looked in. The room was blue with smoke and filled with Chinamen lying in bunks, smoking pipes. Apparently in those days, in the,eyes of the law, how the Chinese lived was their own business; or perhaps there were no laws at that time on opium smoking.

It is a fact, though, that the Chinese were looked on as a different breed, and children threw rocks at them for no other reason, probably, than that they were different, most of them still shuffling along in their sandals, their loose jackets hanging down over their baggy trousers and with pigtails coiled in a bun under their skull caps. Most of them spoke no more than a few words of English which they pronounced with difficulty. "Very" for instance, they pronounced "Velly or Belly," and there is a story of a Chinaman boarding a cable car and greeting the conductor with "Belly cold today." An old Irish woman overhearing him said, "Then tuck in yer shairt and keep it waarm!"

Beginning in 1860, the Central Pacific Railroad brought in shiploads of Chinese to build their transcontinental railroad, starting out from Sacramento and finally, as we know, meeting the Eastern tracks at Promontory Point in Utah in 1867. There they turned loose these hordes of Chinese workers, who drifted West into every town and village.

Gene Kimball, of Saticoy, told me that every town and hamlet sixty years ago had its Chinatown, even such a village as Saticoy, and when help was needed for the harvest, the rancher had only to contact some Chinaman there for as many as he needed.

Gene will always remember one Chinaman, Jim Lee, the laundryman, who went out through the neighborhood for the clothes to be washed, bringing them in on his back and returning them the same way. As he went by the oneroom grade school he would walk in and sit down; and then, half an hour later, without a word, get up and walk out. After a while the children paid no attention to him,"But, of course, out of school we threw rocks at him," said Gene.

Chinamen were generally considered "fair sport," I think, and some pretty far-fetched tales were told about them. In 1920, I had an old-timer on my baling crew who told me, without a flicker of an eye lid, that years before he had worked on a crew with a Chinese cook who cooked up something which made them all sick. "So," he said, "we shoved him into the baler and out he went in a bale of hay; and he wasn't heard of again until they opened him up in a San Francisco livery stable!"

I remember, too, the Chinese funerals which we attended when in the

cemetery where we had gone with our mother to decorate our family graves.

The Chinese portion of the cemetery was anything but lovely. It was on the edge of a barranca into which tin cans, old mattresses and other trash had been thrown. I have since located the spot by the Chinese characters on the head stones; it is adjacent to the east boundary of the cemetery. There was a permanent structure near-by which, for want of a better name, I shall call a barbecue pit. It was 3 or 4 feet high with a pig cooking on it. One of the China men would cut off a piece and offer it to us in his fingers. On the grave itself were bowls of rice, etc., but to our great disappointment, never any candies, which is what we waited for and went back for after the funeral party had left.

There were also many handmade cornucopia shaped cigarettes made with coarse brown paper; and of course there were the prayer papers which were so much a part of every Chinese funeral.

Soy, our gardener, is the Chinaman whom I remember best. He wore American clothes and a vest with a watch-chain, but no coat. He spoke pretty good English, too, and I spent many hours talking to him as he worked round the garden. He old me about China and its beautiful flowers and birds, and one flower that was like a bird. I was fascinated, and so when he told me he was going home for a few months on a visit, I pictured going with him and seeing these wonders for myself. He went along with the idea, and my parents did, too, no doubt to humor me, so that it was a bitter disappointment when he left without me, promising, however, to send me the bird-like flower by some friend. Later a letter came from him, written in the first person by a professional letter-writer and beginning, "Honored Sir," saying that he had not forgotten his promise and would bring me the flower himself on his return. A month or two later the Boxer uprising broke out. We never saw him again.

As I Knew Them

by Edward Selden Spaulding My impressions of Chinatown in Santa Barbara are neither as clear nor as great in mass as are those of the men who gave to the block its name, men, in some instances, whom I have come to admire and respect very much indeed.

I remember very clearly, of course, the twenty or thirty foot strings of little firecrackers; but I remember with much more satisfaction and pleasure Mr. Fong, the merchant, who sold to us small boys, firecrackers and fireworks and other, extraordinary appertenances to the Fourths of July of almost three quarters of a century ago. Mr. Fong's place of business was a small, wooden, single-story building on the east side of State Street above the vacant corner-lot on the Carrillo Street intersection. He was a jolly, rolly-polly little merchant who

dealt in inexpensive importations of many kinds from his Chinese homeland.

Necessarily, firecrackers were a considerable part of his stock at appropriate times of the year. He was a member of the Presbyterian Church, and I saw him there even more often than I did in his store. Most important of all, he had a native sympathy with boys and an understanding of their mental processes that made it even more of a pleasure for us to do business with him. His spoken English was of so peculiar a variation of the usual pidgin English that it, too, was an added incentive to go into his store.

"What are these little businesses, Mr. Fong?"

"Ooooooeee! Those are Nigge Cheezes!"

"Come again."

"Nigge Cheezes! You know. They go 'bbbzzzzzzuut' through the grass.

Velly flunnyl"

The good man wiggled his hand back and forth to indicate the erratic movements of a wildly frantic snake.

"Oh, Nigger Chasers!" one of us cried as the light came to him after a moment of intense study of the matter.

"Yes, Nigge Cheezes," said Mr. Fong with his broadest, friendliest grin.

He was delighted to have been understood so quickly by us.

We each bought a half dozen of the Oriental inventions with monies from the stores that we had been adding to with so much difficulty through the

long weeks of abstinence from candy and ice cream and the other confections and concoctions that consume the pennies, nickles and dimes of small boys.

And we bought his firecrackers by the inch! The biggest one was twelve inches long! This one we considered to be in the nature of a real block buster. We never had money for more than one or two of them.

Another individual who is deeply etched in my memory is our household cook. Perhaps 1 should say that, as I see him now, this character is a composite of at least a half dozen individuals; for it happened that one of our first cooks became sick while in our employ, and he was cared for with kindness and consideration by my mother. After this simple episode, there was never a hiatus in the occupants of the kitchen. If, for some reason, one man left us, to return to China or for some other compelling reason, there always was another one at the door to take his place. And these men, without exception, were willing workers and unusually competent cooks. I still remember with nostalgia their turkeys, which were roasted in a oven in a wood-burning stove with only the human hand to determine the temperature of it at any given time. We never sat down to a dinner or a supper in the course of which we were not served hot bread or pastry of some delectable sort.

When my Aunt, a lady who was a famous cook in her own right, came to visit us from her farm in Erie County, New York, she was all but ecstatic over the concoctions that were placed before her; and she went many times to the kitchen to be instructed in the art of preparing this or that dish that was new to her. "Jelly roll" especially pleased her. She could make the jelly and the cake, of course; but she could not roll them together without cracks, almost crevasses, appearing in the cake. To our cook, this was the simplest of tricks; and he took great pride in teaching Aunt Jennie how to do it.

One memorable day, my faith in the wisdom of the Cook was somewhat shaken. After an afternoon on the beach in the near vicinity of Castle Rock, we returned in the company of our Aunt with several small, live crabs in our pockets. Recently come from western New York State, where there are no crabs, we were excited over the creatures we had found on the rocks and that we had managed to capture there. In high spirits, we showed them to the Cook.

This good man took them into his hand and then, with a laugh, he dropped them into the kettle in which he was preparing soup for our supper. Well . . .

I speak with assurance when I say that Aunt Jennie was a famous cook in her own right. Each time that I visited her on her farm, she welcomed me with a full crock of doughnuts, which she had made for me on the afternoon preceding my arrival; and she encouraged me to eat from this precious crock whenever I so desired. Everything went well with this arrangement until one afternoon she saw me lift the cover and take out a doughnut.

"How many have you had today, Selden?" she asked of me pleasantly and in a conversational tone.

"Only seventeen," said I at once and very thoughtlessly.

But to return from the Farm near Buffalo to the Chinese in Santa Barbara: "Chinese New Years" was a considerable celebration in our community not only for the Chinese but for their employers and friends as well. Chinese lilies in little, colored dishes, litchi nuts in decorated, metal boxes, and Chinese ginger in brown, earthenware jugs wrapped in plaited grass were three of the gifts that often were handed smilingly to us on the first morning of the cele bration. Have you ever, as a child, when the taste buds are young and sensitive, eaten small lumps of ginger that swam in a thick syrup? Have you ever eaten this concoction when poured generously on vanilla ice cream made and frozen by a Chinaman so hard that the whole form on the serving dish splits across the center when the knife is forced into it to cut it? If you have done this, you

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have tasted the quintessence of all delicious desserts. If you have not done this, there is no way in which it is possible for me to tell you how very much has been left out of your life.

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For us children, "Chinamen" fell into three clearly separated categories.

Those whom we knew best, of course, were the cooks. A second group were the laundrymen. The third were the vegetablemen. The men of the second of these groups have been described so very many times that it would be superfluous for me to add here to this great mass of "literature." The third group, however, for reasons that are not clear to me, are less widely known. The "vegetablemen" were those individuals who rented land wherever they could do so cheaply.

and on these plots of good soil, with almost infinite labor and patience, they made their gardens and produced their crops. It was a common sight on the dirt streets of pre-automobile Santa Barbara to see the vegetable man hunched on the seat of his well-filled wagon and driving his team of not-well-cared-for horses as he peddled his produce from door to door. It goes almost without saying that these carrots and beets and round heads of lettuce had been picked or gathered very early in the morning of the day on which they were offered to the housewives of the community; and so they were possessed of a freshness that is all but impossible to find today on vegetable stands and tables within the present limits of our city.

One such vegetableman I remember very well because he was a person of resourcefulness and great individuality. He cultivated the land that lay around the perifery of the Round Pond, a very small body of fresh water to the west of Fairview Avenue and to the south and east of Stow Lake,in the Goleta Area. As was a common characteristic of his countrymen, this man possessed a great fondness for roast duck. As was unlike all others of his compadres that were known to me, he was a sportsman — he shot the wild ducks that in the Fall and Winter came to his pond. Wonderful to relate, he secured those birds that he managed to kill over the center of his water with the help of an English bulldog, which he had trained to be a retriever. Think of it: a man from China shooting over an English bulldog on a pond in Southern California! More than this, he allowed my older brothers and me to hunt ducks on his preserve whenever we chose to do so. I submit that this was no ordinary man.

All of these queued Celestials, whether cooks or laundrymen or vegetablemen, visited Chinatown after their work was done every evening that they were able to do so. In the gathering dusk and in the early darkness, it was a common thing to see strings of two and three and even four of them walking along the sidewalks in their tasselled shullcaps, silk jackets, loose pantaloons, and curious, soft, oriental shoes, and talking in their high, sing-song lingo as they walked, as they made their several ways to the first block of East Canon Perdido Street. At the time, I was told that the man of the highest standing walked in the lead of each string, and that those who followed him in single file invariably took their places according to strict protocol. Whether or not this was true, I believed that it was so. This is the sight that I remember with the greatest clearness and with the most amusement and empathy.

At one period in my boyhood, though exactly which one it was I now can not remember, the Cook thought that it would be amusing to him to teach me a sentence in the Chinese language; or perhaps it was the other way around — perhaps I thought it would be amusing to me, and so the Master-of-theWood-Stove agreed to go along with my whim. I still can rattle off the sing-song syllables that he taught me, though I have not the faintest idea of the correct spelling of them. "Leeee (very high and strong) — goy doy (a little less high

and less strong) — gim ling (ordinary voice) — (and then very quickly) eee ooo leee ahhh." I was told by my instructor that this curious collection of sounds meant either "I like strawberries" or "Give me some strawberries." Which one of these two is the correct answer to the puzzle I can not say with confidence now, though I lean somewhat toward the former; but I am confident that "strawberries" is in it importantly somewhere.

I tell of this small incident only because it illustrates very well that these intelligent men,along with their other fine qualities, possessed a very real sense of humor.

At another and later time, my good friend, John Edwards, whose father was the president of the Commercial Bank and who himself was about to become Cashier of this institution, told me that the going rate of inerest on loans that all Chinese were required to pay was ten per cent. When I protested that it was a gross injustice to the members of the group that, by general admission, were governed by the highest standards of honesty that they should be so penalized, I was told that this was true enough. Many men of good credit could borrow money at four and five per cent. The highest interest rate on ordinary loans was six per cent. Nevertheless, and even though the Bank never had lost so much as a dime on a loan to a Chinaman, ten per cent was the going rate in all of our banks for Celestials. I mention this matter only to show that the lot of the alien in this country never has been an equal or an easy one.

Only because there has been so wide an acceptance of the canard that California was ruined for white laborers when the Chinese were brought here by the railroad builders — Brett Harte even included the line "we are ruined by Chinese cheap labor" in one of his farcical rhymes — I record an incident that occurred in our house some time before the opening of the First World War.

The Cook wished to return to China, and so it became known in certain quarters that his position soon would be an open one. Gin's wages at the time were seventy-five dollars a month and room. The going wage for so-called Americans in the same kind of employment was fifty dollars. A woman, an excellent cook who was well known to us, asked my mother if she could have the job at the higher rate provided that she agreed to do the same amount of work had been done by Gin. This was agreeable to my mother and so the arrangement was accepted by both. This small episode and all that is implicit in it proves conclusively to me that the "Chinese Cheap Labor" canard has had a most unfortunate effect on our understanding of the history of our great State.

I conclude these inadequate and haphazard recollections with a return to the Cook — specifically, to the man who presided over the kitchen when I was eleven or twelve years old. This man was one of those rare individuals who delights in taking almost infinite pains in the production of their masterpieces.

As I remember it, his most notable successes had to do with his birthday parties and birthday cakes. The top frostings of the latter were so extraordinary that my mother refused to cut into the cakes until the miniature dioramas were removed as wholes and were carefully placed in cardboard boxes. When my brother, Albert, made the first baseball team at Thacher School, his birthday cake had on its top a diamond with each ballplayer in his proper place. The catcher was crouched behind the plate, the pitcher (Albert) was starting his wind-up in the box, and the batter held his bat poised over the plate. Each one of these figures was about three-fourths of an inch in height. How they were made we never were told.

When my birthday arrived, I was honored with an equally appropriate cake, I thought. A year or two earlier, I had been given a gun and I was launched on my career as an out-of-doorsman. As boys will do, I fancied my self as a hunter. And so I was placed by my friend in the kitchen on the cen ter of the cake with a frosting gun at my shoulder. A hunting dog at a point stood before me. Around the rim of the cake ran a wire fence of two strands and a bird with wings extended perched on every third post. All of frosting!

It hardly is to be wondered at that I still hold the Cook in the highest esteem!

Gin Chow was a very unusual Oriental. He attained hereabouts a fame that was greater than that of any other Santa Barbaran of my acquaintance or knowledge, and so he was something of a household familiar throughout the County. All of this was based on the fact that he regularly issued forecasts of the weather for periods that sometimes covered as long a space as a twelfthmonth. These extraordinary forecasts were printed avidly by the newspaper editors, of course, for they were news of the first order. How Gin Chow was able to do this so accurately year after year no one knew. He said publicly that it all was written out in a book compiled by a Chinese "Wise Man some one or two or three thousand years (what is a millenium in an affair of this sort!)

earlier in China. What he said privately to his intimates I do not know.

Anyway, he was held generally to be more accurate in his predictions than was the United States Weather Bureau. As weather in the form of rain is of such very great importance to the well-being of this community. Gin Chow was held to be a sort of modern and western Oracle and many a farmer, being careful to schedule his plantings by the outgivings of this extraordinary man, almost literally hung on his words.

So great was the importance of Gin Chow that many an "ordinary" event, some of real significance and some that were trivial, was given added interest because his name was associated with it in one way or another. I remember very well one of the latter sort in which I was involved: There came a day when I had occasion to explain to my class in General Science that it was the so-called Cyclonic Storms that brought the rain-filled "Southeasters" to Santa Barbara County. When these beneficent phenomena passed across the United States at latitudes that lay above the forty-second parallel, which is the OregonCalifornia boundary line, we received no rain from them.

"Where are these storms going across now?" anxiously asked a boy, the son of a rancher whom I had known since boyhood.

"Well above the Oregon Line," I answered. "That is why we have had so very little rain this Winter."

Two weeks or more after this interchange, this boy's father and I chanced to approach each other from opposite directions on State Street. Bill, the father, grinned broadly as he recognized me.

"When did you start going into competition with Gin Chow?" he asked facetiously, very much amused. "Young Bill tells me that you told him that it wasn't going to rain again this Winter and so there wasn't any use in our planting any crops."

A couple of months later, I met this same rancher on State Street, and again he greeted me with a wide and friendly grin.

"You and your friend. Gin Chow, aren't so dumb, after all," he informed me, picking up the conversation where we had left it at our previous meeting but now more astonished than amused. "We haven't had any measurable rain on the ranch for three hundred and seventy-two days."

This is a very small incident, of course, yet it illustrates clearly and conclusively the extent of Gin Chow's influence in Santa Barbara County. An episode of an entirely different kind, one of very great importance to the whole State of California, occurred soon after the small one recited above. The City of Santa Barbara was in the process of digging a tunnel through the Santa Ynez Mountains and of building the high Gibraltar Dam across the Santa Ynez River in an effort to store the run-off of the rains in the Valley for its own needs and uses. As is always true in cases of this sort, I suppose, there was a small group of landholders in the lower Valley who actively opposed this diversion of water

they deemed to be theirs. Some forty ranchers and farmers, therefore, sought by legal action to restrain the City from this proposed diversion. As Gin Chow was one of these dissidents, the name by which this action is known in the law books is "Gin S. Chow et al, the City of Santa Barbara and the Montecito Water District." This famous suit, dealing with the diversion of water from one watershed to another, is one of California's most important water rights cases. The fact that testimony was given in open court during the long drawn out trial to the effect that at one time a whale actually had entered the mouth of the Santa Ynez River at Surf and had swum some distance upstream, extraordinary as this testimony seemed to be at the time, now largely has been forgotten; but the name, "Gin Chow et al" continues to be known by ever increasing numbers of law students.

To some of us, the manner in which this famous and remarkable Celestial departed this mortal soil raises questions that are as a bizarre as are those connected with the source of his foreknowledge of Santa Barbara weather.

Perhaps they are even more inexplicable. The story was told to me by my friend, the late Dr. Irving Wills, and I repeat it without prejudice here as nearly word for word as I can remember it: Gin Chow, whose farm was in Lompoc, was injured in an automobile accident and was taken to the Cottage Hospital. Dr. Wills was called to make an examination of the injured man.

He found that Gin Chow was shaken up somewhat and that there was a bruise on the side over the rib case; but there was no evidence of really serious injury.

And so Dr. Wills attempted to reassure the famous Weather Oracle.

"There is a sore place over the ribs but, other than that, everything is all right. Get a good night's sleep and tomorrow you will feel much better."

"Gin Chow die tonight!" stated the patient positively.

"Oh no! Tomorrow you will feel much better."

"Gin Chow die tonight!"

Nothing that Dr. Wills could think of to say was strong enough to shake this firmly held conviction, and so a second doctor was called, this one an orthopedist; and this specialist confirmed the first diagnosis. But the Chinaman refused to accept the opinion of either doctor as conclusive.

Because Dr. Wills had a deep sympathy for men of this race, having been acquainted with them since boyhood, he got in touch with one or two former patients of his who were also members of Gin Chow's tong, and with some care he explained to these men the whole situation. They readily agreed to help, of course; but, that evening, when they stood beside the hospital bed and tried to reason with their friend, they found themselves to be completely helpless.

"Gin Chow die tonight!" the injured man again declared positively.

And that night Gin Chow did die.

Tentative Summary of Archaeological Findings at the Presidio Chapel Site*

By Timothy S. Hillebrand In the past few years archaeologists have begun to work with historians in attempting to gain further information about man's past cultural activities.

While historic archaeology has been conducted in the Eastern United States for many years, only a handful of sites have been excavated in California. The historic site of the Royal Spanish Presidio Chapel of Santa Barbara has recently been excavated and a tentative summary of the archaeological findings follows.

Jose Francisco Ortega, the first commandante of the Presidio of Santa Barbara, received orders dated October 1, 1782 from Pedro Pages, Governor of California, which were to guide the development of the Presidio. His instructions were first to complete a stockade and a storehouse. After a sturdy defense wall was constructed, a chapel and other structures could be built. By 1890 three sides of the outer defense wall had been erected along with most of the buildings forming the quadrangle. A letter dated 1789 from Goycochea to Governor De Neve indicated that the original chapel had been badly burned in a fire. After some difficulty in procuring funds to reconstruct the chapel, Goycochea finally was able to dedicate the new enlarged chapel on Guadalupe Day,1797. It was this date that marked the zenith of the Presidio's development and repair. In 1967 it is an exciting prospect that, perhaps, in the near future the Presidio will be restored to Santa Barbara as a reminder of our living heritage.

The main purpose of archaeological inquiry was to determine the exact location of the Chapel and the extent to which any remains existed so that the derived information could be used in the eventual reconstruction of the Chapel.

Basing our initial test trenches on title research conducted by Jeremy Hass, we were able to locate the intersection of the outer defense wall and the 1797 northwest Chapel extention wall.

In the course of exposing the defense wall in a northeasterly direction, we discovered two burials in association with the wall. Burial one was neatly lined with typical red Spanish floor tile broken in half with the unbroken edges facing the inside of the crypt. Some small traces of a redwood coffin were found still attached to the surface of the brick. Upon further excavation we soon determined that the burial had already been disinterred at some earlier date. After carefully screening the soil, we recovered three teeth, the bones of the left foot, a patela, and twelve 18th century military buttons made in England. (England exported buttons to Spain in the 18th century). We suggest that this was the grave of a soldier.

The following week the second burial was investigated, which revealed the skeleton of a young girl about 7 years of age and a 15 month old baby on the left side of the older girl. The skulls of both skeletons had previously been removed, most likely for the purpose of reburial. A few rosary beads remained in the grave. Cut-faced field stone was used to build this small grave, and the floor was sparingly lined with one typical square floor tile at the head and one of the foot.

Since both of these graves are cut into the outer defense wall, we can ascertain that they probably originated in the period when the Chapel was. being extended. These burials could not have been earlier than 1789 because they would have undermined and weakened the heavy defense wall beyond the point of structural stability. This fact should prove a valuable asset in establishing the identity of the occupants.

Several weeks later, while uncovering the remains of the early Chapel end wall, another burial was discovered. This crypt was neatly constructed in a classic coffin shape, lined with floor tile on the sides and bottom. As the contents became revealed, we found fragments of the redwood coffin lid on which small brass tacks formed a decorative design pattern. Careful troweling into this grave exposed the sides of the coffin which were little more than a line of discoloration in the soil. The coffin had been filled to the lid with lime, indicating the person had died of some contagious disease. Examination of the bones showed small lesions on the surface, further suggesting a patho logical cause of death. The second finger of the right hand was encircled by a small gold ring. A flower design bordered a milky colored translucent stone.

In this burial, a puzzling discovery was the occurrence of two globs of lead weighing about ten pounds, directly on top of the pelvis area of the skeleton.

The lead defies explanation at this time.

It is interesting that all three burials are associated with walls. The first two crypts are cut into the outer defense wall, while the third crypt lies in the line of the early Chapel end wall. According to burial records there were 109 burials inside the Chapel, so that there are still 106 to be found. It is unlikely that the remaining graves will be excavated since we already have some insight into burial practices of the time. However, there are two major scien tific reasons that these three burials were uncovered. First, because of their unique association with the walls some dating control was possible. Second, because physical anthropologists have never gathered data on a population of new world European skeletal forms, it was deemed a valuable contribution to knowledge to make these data available. It must also be remembered that the Catholic Church sold title to this land a long time ago, so that this area is no longer a legal cemetery.

Returning to the structural outlines of the Chapel, it will be remem-

bered that early in the progress of the excavation, the intersection of the defense wall and the 1797 extension were unearthed. In an effort to establish the location of the side walls, trenches were started from the defense wall toward Canon Perdido Street in line with the extension walls. Along the southeast side wall area only very scattered foundation stones still remained.

This is undoubtedly due to the fact that this wall has served as a property line since the days of the Presidio and, in fact, still continues to function as a property line. Since following this wall seemed fruitless, we only extended it about twenty-five feet and began concentrating on the other side wall.

Again on the southwest side wall trench, we ultimately found only a few scattered foundation stones remaining. Probably because of this wall's position in the center of the lot it was a prime target for destruction at various periods. An interesting problem arises at this point. When we began our first test trench we noticed a pink layer at a depth of about two feet. When we un covered the first burial the pink layer appeared on top of the grave and out from the sides. As we advanced further in our digging we noticed that the pink layer was not present in the extension part of the Chapel. But it seemed to be widely distributed over the early Chapel. Our assumption was that this was some sort of prepared plaster floor. Or perhaps simply a layer of cavedin and disintegrated roof tile. But because of the wide and even covering, we favored the first explanation, especially since such a floor is known from La Purisima Mission. Further, a lab report from the Geology department of UCSB stated that the pink material was definitely not fired Spanish tile.

Although we await further analysis of just what the material is, we have ascertained that the pink layer came into existence after the destruction of the Chapel. This fact was finally proven in the west wall trench. As previously mentioned, we began extending the trench in line with the already uncovered extension wall. When, at the depth that we usually expected to find foundation, no stones appeared we began to become suspicious. Our suspicion was caused by the appearance of the ever present pink layer on lop of where the foun dations were supposed to be. At first we thought that this suggested that the early Chapel was really wider than the extension because it is impossible to have floor on top of foundation, at least with Spanish methods of construction.

So, with this hypothesis in mind, we started a test trench out towards the Whittaker Adobe. We found nothing but more pink layer. It was difficult to believe that the Chapel could be that wide, so we returned to our original Southwest wall trench and began to go through the pink layer.

Just two inches beneath the pink layer shovels testified to foundation stone with a clear ring. It was time for trowels and brooms again. On top of the foundation and beneath the pink we found a most welcome marker, cour tesy of the "noble savage." This marker was in the form of an Indian Head penny which dated 1884. The penny lay in an undisturbed state, indicating that it was not intrusive. Ironically, this was just exactly 100 years after the

Chapel was constructed. With the welcome occurrence of this penny, we now know that the pink layer could not have been deposited before 1884, but we still have no idea of what caused it or its significance.

The west wall trench was not continued further because the point of intersection with the front Chapel wall had been completely destroyed when the basement of the Buddhist Church was excavated. Hoping that the east front corner of the Chapel had not been disturbed, we started to search for any indication of remains. I am pleased to report that we finally found that front corner, but some five feet from where it was supposed to be. It is truly a miracle that anything was left at all. The front wall extended only about one-half feet before it was chopped off by the intersection of the Buddhist Church foundation. An addition to the Shalhoob building apparently disturbed the southeast side wall except where it intersected with the front wall. With the recovery of the information from this particular find, it will now be possible to definitively determine the width and length of the original Chapel, which is most essential if the Chapel is to be authentically reconstructed.

Sparse remains mark the original end wall, consisting of only a few scattered foundation stones but in a convincing pattern. This paucity of material is due to the fact that when the Chapel was extended, the original end wall had to be torn down and it is unlikely that the same material was used in building the extension. The end wall of the 1797 extension has not yet been excavated due to its being situated somewhere beneath the concrete flooring of the garage complex at the back of the lot. However, if Goycochea's plans are reliable, we can be fairly certain of its location. Hopefully we shall find the remains when the garages are razed.

Of the side walls of the Chapel extension, only the southwest wall has been investigated to any extent. The northeasterly wall was not uncovered due to lack of time. However, when the property was occupied by the Buddhist Church, two large boxed trees were planted along this line which have sub sequently been removed. From the depressions left from the trees, traces of foundation can be seen along with stones that were moved when the pits were dug.

The northwest wall appears quite clearly from the defense wall to the front of the garages. There is, however, some discontinuity just in front of the defense wall. Perhaps by the 1790's, the availability of stones in the immediate vicinity was limited to a smaller variety.

At one point in the process of uncovering the west extension side wall, we thought we had hit the intersection of the later end wall. This was puzzling since records show the church to be much longer. By extending the side wall trench toward the garages in the same line we soon found that the foundation indeed continued. But, what was this strange structure of stone we had encountered intersecting with the side wall? Upon opening a trench to pursue this unexpected feature, we found it to be constructed in a steplike arrangement.

Our present interpretation is that these represent three steps up into an elevated sanctuary area.

An interesting side light pertinent to this area is the discovery of a chicken skeleton on top of the side wall foundations just before the point of intersection with the so-called sanctuary stairs. For weeks, artist-historian Russell Ruiz had been predicting with tongue in cheek that we would find a sacrificed animal at the four corners of the building. His theory was based on the Aztec custom of making sacrifices at the corners of a new building in honor of the gods of the four directions. However, I do not think we can allow that this Aztec practice was conducted at the erection of the Presidio Chapel — especially since the chicken was not located in a corner after all.

The last structural features to deal with are the sacristies. In Goycochea's plan, the early Chapel had a sacristy extending out from the West side at the end of the Chapel. Its dimensions were five varas in length and four varas in width with a roof similar to that of the main church (a vara equals approxi mately 2.8 feet). There is some controversy over whether or not the early sacristy appended to the end of the new structure. On logical grounds, I suggested that the Spanish would not have been inclined to destroy a perfectly good structure just because it could no longer function for its original intended purpose. Besides, I have been unable to find any reference or documentation as to the fate of the early chapel. However, archaeological investigation has solved the problem for us. Only small fragments of stone reveal where the foundations of a large buttress against the side wall where the sacristy had been situated. It is not altogether impossible that as a measure of economy the material from the sacristy was used in the construction of the extension or in the supporting buttress. A decision will have to be made whether or not to replace the buttress or the sacristy when the Chapel is reconstructed. More will be said on this point under a discussion of reconstruction.

No evidence has yet been uncovered to indicate the location of the sacristy which was added to the west side of the Chapel extension. Just north of the point where the "stairs" intersect with the side wall, we found a small foundation like structure which only extends in a westerly direction for about a foot. This could possibly be the only remains of the late sacristy, but it appears to be suspended so as to indicate lack of association with the side wall. There is also some very recent material mixed in with this feature, but this may be intrusive. When the side wall is trenched up to the end wall, we can then hope to find better evidence of the sacristy.

A final note should be made on a partially uncovered feature which is located roughly in line with the front of the Chapel, but to the west of the side wall. A cluster of foundation stones appeared on the left side of the driveway and looks to be running underneath. Further work must be done in order to determinate the significance of this discovery. Possibly what we

have here will turn out to be a foundation for a bell tower or the chaplain's apartment foundation.

The foregoing covers in summary form the archaeological findings of the past few months' activity in regard to structural features at the Presidio Chapel Site. Our primary concern in excavating this site was to gather as much information as possible which would be pertinent to the eventual reconstruction of the Chapel. Although the basic necessary data has been collected on which a fairly accurate reconstruction could be made, the site is far from being completely excavated. Further investigation has been suspended due to lack of funds to complete the operation. Many questions still need to be answered concerning the interior of the church, such as what kind of floor was used, of what was the altar constructed and where, and were there any center supporting beams for the roof. External features such as the location of buttres ses and the outlines of a bell tower still need to be investigated in order to assure a more authentic reconstruction. Continued excavation, in addition to answering the above questions, might yield a wealth of unsuspected information and the activities conducted within the Chapel.

When planning a reconstruction project we must recognize that almost any building will have undergone a certain evolution and the Presidio Chapel is no exception. A decision should then be made as to the interpretation the site will be given and the period it is to represent. These matters can also be a function of practical factors such as money or availability of skilled craftsmen with the ability to reproduce authentic work of the kind used in the original structure.

In the case of the Presidio Chapel, there is basically a choice of two periods to consider — pre-1797 and post-1797. For the sake of economy it might be advisable to build only the early pre-1797 Chapel and as funds become available, perhaps, the wall could be extended just as the Spanish once did. Whichever approach is taken would, of course, dictate the form of the rest of the Presidio if it is ever reconstructed in entirety. If the Santa Barbara Trust for Historic Preservation were to accomplish such a feat, it would indeed be a wonderful asset for Santa Barbara, both culturally and economically.

The Santa Barbara Historical Society Museum in cooperation with the University of California at Santa Barbara Department of Archaeology, has been excavating the Presidio Chapel Site for the Santa Barbara Trust for Historic Preservation. Co-directors of the project were Mr. Richard V. Humphrey of the University and the author. Archaeological operations have been suspended due to lack of funds available to complete the excavation.

Ail work to this date has been donated, but it is hoped that further investigation may continue in the near future.

SANTA

BARBARA President

HISTORICAL SOCIETY OFFICERS .. Mrs. Wilson Forbes

First Vice President ..

.. Thomas McDermott

Second Vice President

Hugh J. Weldon .... Paul G. Sweetser

Secretary Treasurer

Mrs. Henry J. Griffiths DIRECTORS

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

John Jordano, Jr. Mrs. Godwin Pelissero Garrett Van Horne Elmer H. Whittaker Mrs. Leo McMahon

Timothy S. Hillebrand, Curator of Education

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