The Story of Concha Argüello

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THE STORY OF CONCHA ARGUELLO (Historically Speaking) By Rebecca Lawrence Lee A Spaniard by llie name of Menendez y Pelayo once said “history is a work of art.” Jean Dcscola of France suggested that history is “also a skeleton to which the chronicler’s imagination as well as his knowledge lends flesh and blood.” Descola mentioned various modes of writing history: “One can be entertaining or earnest, sentimental or pedantic, passionately involved or cooly objective.”

In telling the story of California’s most celebrated international romance, it would be a difficult assignment for the chronicler to remain either “pedantic” or “cooly objective.” Most writers and historians over the past three quarters of a century who have been caught in the spell of the Concha Argiiello story have interlaced their facts rather liberally with both legend and fancy; perhaps justifiably so, for this is a story like that of El Cid, which would not be quite complete without legend and fancy. In short, the story of Concha Argiiello is one which is spun of the fabric of dreams.

Concha was born on February 19, 1791, at the Presidio of San Francisco, in the adobe building which still stands and is used today as the Officers’ Club of the Presidio. She was baptized February 26, 1791, by Father Pedro Cambon at the Mission San Francisco de Asis (commonly known as Mission Dolores) in San Francisco, where the entry of her baptism is kept on record.

Little is know'll of Concha’s early childhood other than that she sup posedly lived at the Presidio for a few months after her birth. As an infant she was taken to Monterey when her father was transferred to the Presidio there, but when she was about five years old she and her family moved back to the Presidio of San Francisco, where she was living at the time history drew aside the curtains on lier life.

Of her younger years there is a charming legend of how her father, Don Jose Dario Argiiello, found her one morning dancing before the shrine of the Blessed Virgin, thenceforth calling her “my little dancing saint.” Upon this legend Richard White based his poem “J'he Little Dancing Saint,” which was published in the Overland MonllUy for May, 1914.

In gleaning information about Concha’s early years, it was found that the best method of approach was to trace her father’s military records. Also, considerable history about Jose Dario Arguello is tucked away in the footCover: Imaginary porlrait of Concha Arguello painted by Lillie V. O’Ryan, a prize student of William Keith, to illustrate Gertrude Athertons story, “Concha Argiiello, Sister Dominica,” published in 1907.

notes and in the Pioneer Register and Index of Bancroft’s History of California, where he has this to say about Argiiello: Jose Dario Argiiello was born at Queretaro (Mexico) about 1753, and enlisted in 1773 in the Mexico (sic) regiment of dragoons. He served as a private about 6 years, and then as sergeant of the presidial company of Altar, Sonora, for two years and a half, until in 1781 he was promoted to be alferez of the company just organized by Rivera for the proposed presidio of Santa Barbara .. . Accompanying Rivera on his march overland he left the officer on the Colorado, and with Lieutenant Gonzalez and the company of soldiers and families passed on to San Gabriel [Mission], where he arrived July 14, 1781, and where he remained until the foundation of Santa Barbara in April 1782.

His first public service of importance was as comisionado appointed by Governor Pages to distribute to settlers the pueblo lands of Los Angeles in August 1786 [In this capacity Don Jose laid out the first city streets in Los Angeles.—Author s Note]. In February 1877 (sic) he was pro moted to be lieutenant of the San Francisco company, and started in June to assume the new position. He served as commandant of San Francisco until March 1791, and again from April 1796 until July 1806, having occupied the same post at Monterey in 1791-6.^ About Concha’s mother, Bancroft has this to say: “Arguello’s wife was Dona Ignacia Moraga, of Altar, a niece of Lieut. Jose Joaquin Moraga, the founder of San Francisco, who came to California with her husband. Both were of pure Spanish blood, or believed to be so by the friars.”* In 1780 Don Jose Dario Argiiello had wooed and won the beautiful daughter of Jose Ignacio Moraga and Barbara Alviso, Dona Maria Ignacia de Moraga. Jose Dario and Maria Ignacia were married in Altar, Sonora, Mexico, where Jose Dario had been stationed for nearly two years. Their wedding must have provided considerable entertainment for the inhabitants of little Altar, and what an adventurous wedding journey lay ahead for the young Doha Maria Ignacia and her husband, as they followed in the footsteps of the incomparable Captain Juan Bautista de Anza! Traversing the treach erous El Camino del Diablo, they proceeded to the crossing of the Colorado River where Yuma stands today. As Bancroft states, they pressed on with their adventurous band of colonists consisting of thirty married soldiers and their families and five unmarried soldiers. Little did they dream of the fate that awaited members of their party remaining behind with Captain Fernando Rivera y Moncada on the eastern bank of the Colorado. On July 17, 1781, three days after the safe arrival of the colonists at Mission San Gabriel, ^Bancroft, History of California, 2: 358-359 (footnote).

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Captain Rivera and his men, along with the famed Franciscan explorer Fr. Francisco Hermenegildo Garees, Father Moreno and Father Diaz, were murdered in an uprising of the Yuma Indians under the direction of their leaders Salvador Palma and Ignacio Palma.

In March of 1872 Jose Dario and his band of colonists proceeded to Santa Barbara, where the Presidio of Santa Barbara came into being. His wife remained at Mission San Gabriel, where she gave birth to their first child, Jose Ignacio Maximo Arguello who was born and baptized on June 8, 1782. Jose Ignacio became California’s first native-born Catholic priest. He studied for the priesthood in Mexico, probably in Guadalajara or Mexico City. Historical records indicate that Fr. Jose Ignacio Arguello sang High Mass at Mission San Gabriel in 1809 apd that he was present and participated in llie dedication of the new Mission church of San Buenaventura in 1809.

He became curate of the tiny mission church in the Yaqui village of Torim (or Torin) in Sonora, Mexico, and was murdered in an uprising of the Yaqui circa 1818.

Maria de la Concepcion Marcela Arguello (Concha) was the sixth child of Jose Dario and Dona Ignacia.

History buffs and fourth grade students in California read varying accounts of the meeting between the handsome Rezanov and the lovely Concha Arguello at the Presidio of San Francisco in April of 1806. Rezanov was heading an expedition to Alta California to obtain foodstuffs for his fellowcountrymen who were starving in Russian America (New Archangel, today’s Sitka, Alaska). His bargaining with the Yankee Captain de Wolff for the little brig Juno, which finally brought Rezanov and his scurvy-stricken crew to safe harbor at San Francisco, is another story to tell.

The first historically-based description of Concha came from the pen of Georg Heinrich von Langsdorff, German naturalist and diarist of the Rezanov expedition to Alta California. He was the first raconteur to speak of the charms and beauty of Conception, and with good authority, for he knew and admired the lady at first hand. Langsdorff had this to say about Concha and the abundant Arguello family: The Sehora Arguello was the mother of fifteen children, and of these, thirteen were living at this time. Some of the sons were absent upon military duty, and the others were at home. Of the grown-up un married daughters, the Dona Conception most particularly interested us. She was distinguished for her vivacity and cheerfulness, her loveinspiring and brilliant eyes and exceedingly beautiful teeth, her ex pressive and pleasing features, shapeliness of figure, and for a thousand other charms, besides an artless natural demeanor. Beauties of her kind one may find, though but seldom, only in Italy, Portugal and Spain.=* :>G. H. von Langclsclorff, Narrative, 41-42.

From Langsdorff’s account, it is not difficult to ascertain that Rezanov, as an older man and widower, had not set for himself any great sacrifice by proposing marriage to the beautiful Conchita, although the prime purpose of his proposal may have been to cement an alliance between Russia and Spain and thereby to open up the port of San f'rancisco to trade with Russian America. In Rezanov’s own words: I resolved to change my politeness for serious tone. Finally I imperceptibly created in her fConcha) an impatience to hear something serious from me on the subject, which caused me to ask for her hand, to which she consented. My proposal created consternation in her par ents, who had been reared in fanaticism, the difference in religion and the prospective separation from their daughter made it a terrible blow for them. They ran to the missionaries, who did not know what to do; they hustled poor Concepion to church, confessed her, and urged her to refuse me, but her resoluteness finally overcame them all. The holy fathers appealed to the decision of the throne of Rome, and if I could not accomplish my nuptials, I had at least the preliminary act performed, the marriage contract drawn up, and I forced them to betroth us.'

So it was that the handsome chamberlain to Czar Alexander I, Nikolai Petrovich Rezanov, and the beautiful Doha Maria de la Concepion Argiiello were betrothed with proper ceremony at the Mission San Francisco de Asis, before the chamberlain set sail for New Archangel in the Juno, its holds filled with the bounty of Alta California.

Most historians have abruptly dropped the curtain on the fair Con cepcion on this eventful day of May 21, 1806, as she and her family and Governor Arrillaga waved farewell to Rezanov from the banks above little Fort San Joaquin at the Golden Gate, half a league north and west of the Mission San Francisco de Asis, just over the hill from the adobe buildings of the Presidio. The historical fact remains, however, that Concha Argiiello out lived her lover by half a century, during which lime she led a full, serviceoriented life.

The chief historical sources concerning the later years of Concha’s life are her own letters, which were meticulously copied down and are preserved in the De la Guerra Collection of the Bancroft Library at Berkeley, California.

Of her later years Bancroft wrote: ... all speak of the lady in terms of the highest respect, dwelling on her many acts of charity and religion, her ministrations to the sick, her teaching of children, both Indian and Spanish; her habit of carrying always a bottle of holy water, her visits to the different missions and presidios, and her persistent rejection in the early days of all offers of >N. P. Rezanov, yoyagc to Niici'n CuUiontia.

marriage. Gov. Alvarado believed that by a mysterious warning she saved his life in Santa Barbara in 1838. No writer, however, says any thing of her ever having left California, which fact I learn from her own correspondence preserved in the family archives of Don Jose de la Guerra y Noriega. April 20, 1818, she writes from Loreto to her brother. She is evidently in considerable trouble from the ardor with which one Don Santiago, James Wilcox Smith presses his suit for her hand, and the reports current on the subject among her friends in California. She denies having given Don Santiago any encouragement that she would marry him, though she admits it did once occur to her that, as he promised to change his religion, by consenting she might save his soul; but she had reflected that if his conversion was sincere he had no need for her. Whatever interest she had shown in him had been from gratitude for favors to her family. She is anxious that the matter be explained to Jose de la Guerra and Pablo Sola . . . October 16, 1819, she writes at Sta Barbara to Guerra, that she is in despond ent mood; declares her intention to live here until her death, which she believes to be near, and begs the pardon of every member of the house hold for the trouble she has caused. Jan. 30, 1829, she writes again from Guadalajara about her mother’s desire to return to California, though wholly unable to make the journey.’* Thus Bancroft wrote that he learned of Concha’s having left California from her own letters. The fact is that Concha left Alta California on several occasions. Her first journey took place in 1815 when she accompanied her family to Loreto, capital of Baja California In the autumn of 1806 Jose Dario had moved his family to Santa Barbara where he became Captain of the Santa Barbara Company. At the death of Governor Arrillaga in July, 1814, Don Jose, as high ranking officer in Cali fornia, became acting governor of Alta California. In December he also received his commission making him Governor of Baja California as well. In 1815, he and his family moved to Loreto where he served as Governor of Baja Caifornia until October, 1822, when he again moved, this time to Guad alajara to live with his married son Gervasio. Concha lived in tiny Loreto during much of the time her father served as Governor, but she made at least one visit to Santa Barbara during this period.

In 1822 Concha moved to Guadalajara with all that remained of her immediate family, and stayed there with lier parents until after their deaths.

According to Bancroft," her father died in Guadalajara either in 1827 or early in 1828, at the age of seventy-five. Her mother died there the following year. After their deaths. Concha was anxious to return to California, and "Bancroft, op. cit., 78 (footnote). oBancroft, op. cit., 360 (footnote).

eventually the opporlunit) came. She returned to Santa Barbara, where she became a permanent house guest of the De la Guerra family, whose house still stands today in Santa Barbara in the center of a group of shops and restaurants on De la Guerra Street. Some years later, after 1842, Concha moved to a quieter household, that of Dona Josefa Boronda de Burke, whose husband, James Burke, an Irish trader from South America, had settled in Santa Barbara in 1828. They had six children, of whom the eldest daughter, Manuela, had had an unhappy love affair and had never married. She became a close friend and constant companion to Concha, a kindred spirit. Concha lived with the Burke family until she left to enter California’s first convent in Monterey.

But what of Nikolai Petrovich Rezanov? The records show that he died in Siberia in the small town of Krasnoyarsk on March 1, 1807. Much contro versy has arisen among historians, story writers, and even among descend ants of the Arguello family as to when Concha learned of her lover’s death.

Some say she learned of the tragedy within a three-year period after his departure from San Francisco, but others say it was eight years or more before she knew. Sir George Simpson, Go\ernor-in-Chief of the Hudson’s Bay Company’s territories, who paid a visit to Santa Barbara in 1842, claims to have been the first to tell her that her lover had died. This is Sir George’s account of the lady: Among the persons whom we met this afternoon was a lady of some historical celebrity. Rezanov, having failed, as elsewhere stated, in his attempt to enter the Columbia in 1806, continued his voyage as far as San Francisco, where besides purchasing immediate supplies for Sitka, he endeavored, in negotiations with the commandant of the district and the governor of the province, to lay the foundation of regular intercourse between Russian America and the California settle ments. In order to cement the national union, he proposed uniting him self with Doha Concepcion Arguello, one of the commandant’s daugh ters, his patriotism being its own reward, if half of Langsdorff’s de scription was correct.

The chancellor, who was himself of the Greek church, regarded the difference of religion with the eyes of a lover and a politician, but as his imperial master might take a less liberal view of the matter, he posted away to Saint Petersburg wdth the intention, if he should there be successful, of subseciuenlly visiting Madrid for the requisite authority to carry his schemes to full effect. But the Fates, with a voice more powerful than that of emperors and kings, forbade the banns, and Rezenov died, on his road to Europe, at Krasnoyarsk, in Siberia, of a fall from his horse.

Thus at once bereaved of her lover, and disappointed in her hope of becoming a pledge of friendship between Russia and Spain, Dona

Concepcion assumed the habit, but not, I believe, the formal vows of a nun, dedicating her life to the instruction of the young and the conso lation of the sick. This little romance could not fail to interest us, and not withstanding the ungracefulness of her conventional costumes and the ravages of an interval of time which had tripled her years, we could still discover in her face and figure, in her manners and conversa tion, the remains of those charms which had won for the youthful beauty the enthusiastic love of Rezanov and the equally enthusiastic admiration of Langsdorff. Though the Doha Concepcion loved to dwell on the story of her blighted affections, yet, strange to say, she knew not, till we mentioned it to her, the immediate cause of the chancellor’s sudden death. This circumstance might in some measure be explained by the fact that Langsdorffs work was not published before 1814; but even then, in any other country than California, a lady who was still young would surely have seen a book which, besides detailing the grand incident of life, presented so gratifying a portrait of her charms.’’’

Perhaps the writer is guilty of being a prejudiced romantic, but to her one of the most delightful of all sources about the life of Maria de la Con cepcion Argiiello came from the pen of Katherine Den Bell, whose writings and reminiscences of old Santa Barbara were compiled by her daughter Katherine Bell Cheney and published after her mother’s death in a volume entitled Swinging the Censer.

Concha, having assumed the habit of the Third Order of Franciscans, Secular, sometime in the 1830s, became known as “La Beata” because of her many kindnesses to young and old, to Spaniard, Mexican and Indian alike.

While living at the residence of Dona Josepha Boronda de Burke, Concha also served as babysitter for little Katherine Den, whose father was Nicholas A. Den of Santa Barbara and whose mother was Rosa A. Hill de Den. Their house stood on the corner of Figueroa and Stale Streets, near the Burke adobe. Little Katherine spent many hours in the company of the beloved “Beata.” Grown to womanhood, Katherine Den Bell wrote, “La Beata, so called because she wore the habit of the Third Order of St. Francis, was an inmate of Dona Josefa’s household. In all my ramblings through the far-off, enchanted field of child-memories, she meets me at every turn with her pale, refined face, the radiant smile of her dark eyes, and her witching voice, the sound of which, like a spell, lingers in my remembrance in defiance of the long, long years.”"

In a letter to John F. Davis, California historian, who wrote a whimsical account of Concha’s love affair, Mrs. Bell wrote: The Treasure House of my childhood memories holds nothing lovelier »G. Simpson, Narrative, 117-118.

«Bell, Swinging the Censer, 89-90.

than those that twine around the Beata’s historic name. They bring bursts of Spring into my heart! I learned my prayers at her knee — have cried and laughed in her arms — threaded her needles — fixed and unfixed her sewing box. And many a time I remember waking, as the Mission bells rang the ‘Alba,’ to find her sweet pale face bending over me, signing my forehead with the Cross, and whispering her oftrepeated blessing. How memory is crowding me! I shall know her in Heaven by her tender, caressing voice. God’s Angels cannot teach a purer love standard, nor bring us a brighter, sweeter fancy than that of Concepcion’s lifelong faithfulness to her girlhood’s lover . .

In 1850 a new bishop was appointed for California, the Most Reverend Joseph Sadoc Alemany. It was his intention to found a convent in California.

When news of this convent-to-be reached Concha, she made her decision to become a member of this new congregation, if the Bishop would grant her the favor. In spite of her age (she was nearing sixty at the time) permission was granted and she made her profession as a Dominican sister, taking the white veil in Monterey on April 11, 1851. Her spiritual name became Sister Maria Dominica. A year later, on April 13, 1852, she took the black veil and the vows of the Third Order of Dominicans, Regular, attaining the distinction of becoming California’s first native-born Catholic sister.

Sister Maria Dominica became a member of the community of Dominican Sisters at the new convent of Saint Catherine of Siens in Monterey, which was housed in the adobe residence of Guillermo Hartnell. In August of 1854, however, the convent was moved to Benicia, which had for a short time been the capital of California. The aca demy flourished and became one of the finest educational institutions in the state, existing until 1966 when it was demolished to make way for ‘‘progress. At Saint Catherine’s Academy in Benicia, Sister Maria Dominica served as instructor of sewinO’ embroidery. beading, chenille work and tapestry.

One of the best sources for this period in the life of Concha Arguello was an old lady known to the late Father Maurice O’Moore, a Dominican priest who made an exhaustive study of Concha’s life but who died before his writings could be published. There was an orphan child left as a foundling at St. Catherine’s, who grew up in the convent under Sister Maria Dominica’s special care. Father Maurice often visited this orphan, then an old woman, and gleaned from her his knowledge of Concha’s last years.

Sister Maria Dominica served out the remainder of her years at St. Catherine’s in Benicia, where she died on December 23, 1857. She was buried in the convent garden, but in 1897 her remains were moved to the private cemetery of the Dominican Order overlooking Suisun Bay. oBell, op. cit., 94-95.

The story of Concha Argiiello and her love for the Czar’s chamberlain has been told and retold many times by historians, poets and novelists. Bret Harte wrote his tribute in his poem “Concepcion de Arguello;” Gertrude Atherton wrote about Concha in her novel Rezdnov; John F. Davis wrote about her in his California Romantic and Resourceful.

On Serra Day, November 24, 1913, the occasion of the placing of a bronze tablet on the oldest adobe building in San Francisco, the former resi dence of the Comandante and Concha’s birthplace, Mr. Davis addressed the following words to an audience of officers and soldiers of the Presidio: When we think of the love stories that have survived the ages, Alexander and Thais, Pericles and Aspasia, Antony and Cleopatra, and all the rest of them — some of them a narrative unfit to handle with tongs — shall we let this local story die? Shall not America furnish a newer and purer standard? If to such a standard Massachusetts is to contribute the Courtship of Miles Standish, may not California con tribute the Courtship of Rezanov? You men of this army post have a peculiar right to proclaim this sentiment; in such an enlistment you, of all men, would have the right to unsheath a flaming sword. For this memory of the comandante’s daughter is yours — yours to cherish, yours to protect. In the barracks and on parade, at the dance and in the field, this one sweet human fancy belongs to this Presidio; and no court-martial nor departmental order can ever take it from you.

John F. Davis was an historian and so was Katherine Den Bell in her own way, as were von Langsdorff and Sir George Simpson in their own manner, yet each of these chroniclers used his “imagination as well as his knowledge” to lend “flesh and blood” to history.

BIBLIOGR.\PHY Bancroft, Hubert H., History of California. 7 vols. San Francisco, 1884-1890.

Bell, Katherine M., Swinging the Censer. Santa Barbara, 1931.

Davis, John F., California Romantic and Resourceful. San Francisco, 1914.

Langsdorff, Georg Heinrich von, Narrative of the Rezdnov Voyage to Nueva California in 1806. San Francisco, Thomas C. Russell, 1927.

Lee, Rebecca Lawrence, Concha, “My Dancing Saint.” Riverside, Calif., 1966.

Rezanov, Nikolai Petrovich, The Rezdnov Voyage to Nueva California. San Francisco.

Thomas C. Russell, 1927.

Simpson, George, Narrative of Thomas C. Russell, 1930.

Voyage to California Ports in 1841-42. San Francisco,

MARION MORENO, 1891-1975 Santa Barbarans named it “The Coyote Fire.” In October, 1964, when the small backyard trash burning in the foothills behind the city got out of hand, the Santa Ana winds, scourge of fire fighters, must have been waiting.

With desert heat and the force of lust they joined the creeping flames and together they raced south over the craggy terrain, demolishing grass, bridges, trees and houses. Nev.er slowing their pace, they changed direction at Montecito after devastating a great swath of land and attacked Paradise and the surrounding territory of San Marcos Pass. Then, on the evening of the third day, still defying efforts to contain them, they hovered at the mouth of Sycamore Canyon. There were families all along the route watching for the blaze in the sky that would send them away from their homes. Some were already in their cars at the bridges to the road, and some had already left.

Several miles to the north, the little ranch of Marion Moreno, isolated in its pocket next to the mountains, was to be the last victim of the holocaust.

For some hours the fire, holding the canyon in suspense, waited, and then, as if in agreement, the wind veered north, pushing the licking flames ahead in one last attempt at destruction.

Marion,former cowboy and guide of the southwestern California country, was wise enough to start putting things in order that day. All of the horses he boarded out of the area by afternoon, but Marion worked on to save the livestock and tack. At 2:30 in the morning he rode out on "Diablo,” his appalusa, with the pack-jenny tied behind. He heard the sound of flames behind him and knew that his house, barns, bridges and land were gone, but he never turned to look. He vowed that he would be back. The flames stayed behind him all the way to Foothill Road, staying alive on the dry grass on either side of the road, and finally, there at the entrance to the city, they died, and Santa Barbara breathed again. Two days later, after the ground had cooled, friends found the saddened man mending his water pipes, de termined that water would once again run on his land. As Marion worked, his thoughts turned back in time.

Twenty years before the fire, Marion and his two young sons had come to claim their inheritance, the ranch of Florentine Garcia, Marion’s uncle.

That day Marion named it “El Ranchito Escondido” as he accepted this life saving land which was to be a haven for the now motherless family and countless Santa Barbara children and their horses. That first day he made his way to the ranch over the narrow potholed road. Not a tall man, he gave the appearance of strength, a man at home in the saddle. He remembered the sun filtering through the leaves of the sycamores at the side of the road, making a chimeric gold and silver pattern. Down the sloping meadow on the right the oak trees rose from the browned grass, for it was summer and no rain had fallen since early spring. Two deer, startled at the sound of the horses’ hooves, turned and ran swiftly into denser cover. As Marion came

upon ihe creek, he thought, “Not much water in it now, but how good it is to have water — above all else, how good it is to have water.”

At last Marion sat atop his mount on the crest of the small hill. He had just passed the barn and now before him were rolling hills backed by granite peaks against a blue California sky. Slightly to the right w’ere a small house and a tool shed. Behind the house and down the slope he could glimpse the roof of the horse barn, the creek, and the trees. Here and there old wagons stood under the sycamores. There was a small fruit orchard and a vegetable garden for the former owner’s use, but not much else. The sheep and the grain crop had long since fallen away from the scene. But to a man who had earned his own way from the age of ten as a farmer’s helper and later as a cowboy and sometimes guide, this was a paradise and, most important, his own land. He wasn’t worried about the future, for he had a strong back, willing hands and, as he put it, “The wheels are always turning.” As soon as the boys arrived and had settled in to the work at hand, Marion began entertaining the multitude of ideas that came to him. He knew he must make it a working and paying ranch and many ideas had to be discarded before the inspiration of the dream appeared.

Because he loved nature and the land and had great respect for them, because he knew and loved children and horses, and because he was a naturalborn teacher, he decided to open the ranch to as many of Santa Barbara’s children and their horses as he could manage. He would build living quarters for a few horses and also teach riding to those who wanted and needed to come. For a time money posed a big problem — he had to supply his own family’s needs as well as the needs involved in the proposed building venture.

When he learned that the farmer who lived a few miles down the way was hiring ranch hands, Marion applied for a job and found himself doing all the things he had done as a young lad, but this time there was a grand purpose and enjoyment in his work.

Meanwhile, the boys were occupied at home taking care of the house and doing the chores. He could trust them not to wander or get into mischief.

Marion was making enough now to buy staples—he had already planted more trees in the orchard and enlarged the garden space — and to buy clothes and other necessities. There was no telephone or electricity yet, but there were kerosene lamps and plenty of wood to burn. It was a snug spread.

The next few years were involved with the usual concerns of everyday living and getting the boys to school every day the ranch was passable. Some days it rained so hard the ground was a muddy quagmire and the children missed school. At the ranch itself, they were all working on the new addition to the house. With the help of friends and a little money for supplies they soon had a bathroom and another bedroom completed. Living room, kitchen, two bedrooms and bathroom — it was a comfortable home. They had butane gas now and the kitchen had a new stove and refrigerator. The kitchen was

the nucleus of the house, the scene of young boys studying and Marion cook ing. Cowboy stew, chicken a la king with biscuits that tasted the way biscuits should taste but so seldom do, home-made bread, fresh fried egg sandwiches and always the pot of excellent coffee on the stove. When friends came, they usually appeared at the kitchen door to share the hospitality of their host and, although the fare was simple, it had a special flavor of warmth and generosity. For the adults there was always some refreshment while the talk flowed, enthusiasm about the present and reminiscences of the past; tales of the California cattle range and a life alien to most of us. Through it all the key to this man’s self appeared: his love of life and all things great and small, his principles that never deviated, and his quick perception of anything base or phony. The latter was swiftly yet gently disposed of.

By the time the boys were in high school, a lot had happened to make life more satisfying. There were a few good friends and more comforts, but the dream was still a dream. In a way it was beginning to take shape — there was a growing pile of old lumber, corrugated metal, old doors, bricks, pipe and bathtubs. Anything that could be of some use was brought back to the ranch and the stockpile.

Because of the uncertainty of the ranch road, Marion found board and room for his sons in a private home so that their attendance at school was assured. With more time for his project, Marion began building. First came the coops for the chickens, chukars, peahens and peacocks. Next, the barn by the bridge on the way to the house was refurbished with two stalls, while outside the ground was cleared for corrals. Up the little hill, to the left where the new coops had been built, was the site of the new stalls and corrals. There were four altogether. Doors, boards and corrugated metal went together and turned out to be a sound enough structure; not an architect’s dream, perhaps, but when the blackberries and morning-glory vines threw their arras around them, they became an integral part of the landscape. Then the children from Santa Barbara came and filled the stalls with their steeds. There wasn’t enough room for them all to board their horses, but many came for the lessons and the rides. “At one time I rode with twenty-two boys and girls, all under the age of thirteen,” he told me. The dream had become a reality.

Those who boarded their horses were responsible for the stalls and corrals and the care of the animals themselves. They worked hard and played hard. They had free access to all areas of the ranch, but only after they had learned proper respect for all living and growing manifestations of nature.

They were also taught to respect each other. Marion acted as judge and jury, dispensing council firmly but justly. It was most important to him that his charges learn to be kind and thoughtful. Of course there were fights and disagreements as there always are when that many young people are together.

There was the time when one horse reached through the bars of his corral fence and nipped his neighbor on the flank. The two girls who owned them

had a good squabble that day and didn’t speak to one another until Marion and the parents took a hand in the settlement.

Everyone was in an uproar when the twin girls brought rattlesnakes back from the hills, hoping to tame one for a pet. Marion put his foot down at that, but they managed to take one home and stash it under their bed — until their father opened their door one day and came face to face with the visitor. Then he left the door open and opened all the other doors in the house until Mr. Snake departed!

There were the normal jealousies, too, and all the tendencies children have, like being lazy, too ambitious, or showing off. Marion dealt with them all. It was Mr. Moreno’s ranch, and when you were there you did it his way — the right way.

Marion taught the rudiments of riding in the “ring” by the horse barn, then took his students on rides around the ranch. Sometimes they turned toward the mountains through the “forest primeval” — lush green pathways wending their way through dark caverns hemmed in by giant boulders. Here the sky was blocked out by the trees that met and interlocked above, and the only light came from the sun’s slender shafts piercing the spaces between the leaves. It was a cool, peaceful retreat, but suddenly they were in the open again, climbing rocky mountain trails. Sometimes they rode along the creek bed on the other side of the ranch toward the city, where they could observe and learn about the birds, deer, racoons, foxes and other little animals that were so plentiful. When Marion felt the children were ready, he took them out to Foothill Road to test their skills in traffic. Here the children and the horses learned about automobiles and motorcycles, and how to handle them selves in all situations. It was here that I had seen Marion over twenty years ago: he and a dozen children riding in the rain, all covered with shiny black ponchos. He drew them to the side of the road to let us pass and, as he did so, the bearing of the man caught my eye and my imagination.. When he raised his hand to the brim of his tall hat in a salute, I felt we had been honored by a king!

For many years this little band was a familiar part of the Santa Barbara Fiesta parade every August. It is a magnificent parade complete with bands, liorsemen and fiesta dancers and floats, not only from the city but from all over California and the southwestern states. To be part of it is the aim of almost every youngster in Santa Barbara, and Marion’s kids were no excep tion. Difficulties arose finally from inadequate facilities at the park where the horse stalls were located. It was necessary to bring the horses in on the day before the parade and bed them overnight. This required someone to stay with them, to feed, water, and exercise them. In addition, each owner or group was responsible for their own feed, which entailed having it delivered at a considerable expense. In view of these deterrents, they withdrew from this activity, but most reluctantly. Until very recent years, however, Marion’s

boys and girls participated in the competitions at the local showgrounds in all manner of riding skills. They always did him proud.

There were fiestas at the ranch, too, when there was something to cele brate, when the parents wanted to come, or just because. Everyone brought food, but Marion supplied the coffee and sometimes home-made bread.

Gathered around the tables under the ancient spreading oak tree outside the front door, they were happy people — laughing, singinO’ or just watching the changing colors reflected on the mountains by the setting sun. 'I'hey were content just to be in that peaceful valley.

All of this Marion had given to these people, but now, in the midst of the desolation wrought by the fire, they came to his rescue. The children, their parents, and the friends he had made over the years came together. Com mittees formed and went into action with newspaper stories, TV appearances, radio newscasts and plans to bring ‘*E1 Ranchito Escondido” back to life and productivity. One mother, an architect, talked with Marion and drew up the plans for the new house. He wanted the same floor plan, and that was the prime consideration along with many modern conveniences such as elec tricity, telephone and heating apparatus. This time there would be cement to build on, and patios. Many friends came on weekends or whenever they could to help with the building. The manager of one of the local hanks offered to handle the money that began to come in — sometimes only a dollar or two (usually accompanied by a note) and sometimes a good deal more, This same banker walked the streets visiting hardware stores, lumber yards, and building supply companies and then made a pitch to the local Red Cross chapter. Supplies were secured at cost in many cases, some were donated outright, and one cement company owner brought in his equipment and crew to pour all the foundation and patios, free of charge. The Red Cross pledged enough to complete the outbuildings. One young man who was away at college called his fathdr with the message, “Take S50 out of my savings account and get it to Marion.”

Furniture was brought in, too, and one couple donated the bathroom fixtures they had purchased for their own use. Now Marion’s needs pre empted their own. Even Mother Nature did her part. By spring, when the buildings were completed, the trees and hills were adorned in fresh green raiment. It was a sight to behold and an occasion to celebrate with a picnic and shower for the new/old owner.

Ten years after the Coyote Fire the children still came with their horses, although Marion no longer taught riding. He was Deputy Sheriff, having been commissioned in August, 1962. He rode the range to check for van dalism, carelesness, or any infraction of the hunting laws. Friday afternoons he rode Diablo, once black and white and now all white, to the market in San Roque. The white “pack-jenny” brought up the rear with the saddle bags. There w'as a hitching post in the market’s lot for Marion’s horse, testi-

mony to the esteem the people of Santa Barbara held for this man.

At eighty-two Marion’s hair was still black, his teeth as complete as ever, he moved with the same quick decisive movements, his black eyes twinkled as he talked and his voice was as strong and steady as it always was.

People greeted him on the street and in the stores and sometimes reintroduced themselves with, “Remember me? I used to come up to your ranch.” “They change so much,” he said, “its hard to place them until I hear their names.

I have a good life here and enjoy my country living.” One day he told me that he was harvesting his grain crop with the help of Diablo and another horse. He still put in a full day’s work and he and “El Ranchito Escondido” continued to bless those fortunate enough to have a key to his gate.

Marion is gone now. He died on June 26, 1975. The hitching post is no longer in its place in the parking lot; the market has been sold and there will be a new business there soon. Yet to all of us who were his friends, Marion still rides the range in the hills behind the town and hitches Diablo and Pico to the post on Fridays — memories die hard.

This is not the complete story of the man. It would take all of his family, all of his friends, and all of those boys and girls who shared in his wisdom and knowledge to tell the whole story, and even then, I wonder if we would know it all. Rowland Oliver told me that he had spent at least two days a week with Marion for the past five years, and before that almost every Sunday and free day he had from 1962 when he first met Marion. Even then, he was still learning something new about him.

And what of all the boys and girls who profited so greatly from partici pating in the adventures at the ranch? Just to be there in the clean, healthy atmosphere was good enough, but to be schooled by Marion in the ways of nature and of life was a benefit that could not be measured. I know there were real dramas enacted there (Marion didn’t talk about them much): boys who needed a home and guidance and came through the trying times because of Marion’s help; children from broken homes who needed the solidity of life at the ranch; and all the children who were kept busy and active working with the horses. It was all good, and Santa Barbara will miss Marian Moreno.

— Barbara Lucas

MUSEUM EXHIBITS CARPENTERS’ TOOLS Currently on view in the Western Room of the Museum is an exhibit of tools used by 19th-century carpenters. The chest belonged to Robert J. Hanson and was donated by his granddaughter, Mrs. Leonard Edwards.

Most of the tools, including those shown in the chest, belong to Richard Bickmore.

In appreciating the workmanship in old buildings, we too often over look the fact that the carpenter was inseparable from his tools. We tend to think only of the man and his skill, but long after he has departed his tools

remain lo remind us that they were the means by which fine craftsmanship was achieved. The hand tools in this exhibit are typical of those used by carpenters in Santa Barbara during the late 19lh century and are represent ative of the trade before electricity and mass production of machine-made mouldings rendered many of them obsolete.

Those who admire the fancy mouldings so characteristic of Victorian architecture will find here the hand tools with which they were produced, such as the plow plane, so called because a carpenter’s apprentice pulled it along with a rope, or such tools as the filletster plane, try square, and socket firmer chisel. Particularly noteworthy are the two bench planes made from ironwood, native only to the Channel Islands. Since Robert Hanson, who owned them, did much of the building for Justinian Caire on Santa Cruz Island from the 1880’s on, it is safe to assume that he made the tools himself while working there. Possibly the oldest tools in the exhibit are the three large socket chisels typically used to cut mortise and tenon joints, a l)uilding technique rendered obsolete by the invention of the balloon frame house in 1883.

The exhibit may be seen through January.

NEW MEMBERS ACTIVE Mrs. Gene Bengston

Mrs. Albert J. Clemore

Mr. and Mrs. Nelson S. Birkhead

Mr. Eylar M. Fillmore

Mr. and Mrs. George Chelini

Mr. Clifford Greene, Jr.

Mr. and Mrs. Michael J. Kohler

SUSTAINING Mr. Patrick A. Lejeune

Mrs. Clifford G. Seymour

CONTRIBUTING Mrs. Mary Ella Isham

EV MEMORIAM Mrs. Frederic Brossy

Mr. Wallace Penfield

Mrs. Sellar Bullard

Mrs. Lorraine E. Sartwell

Mr. Daniel G. Grant, Jr.

Mrs. Cecil I. Smith

Mr. John A. Parma

Mrs. E. Selden Spaulding

HISTORICAL SOCIETY MEMBERSHIPS Classes of ineml)ersliip: Benefactor. S5000.00 or more: Life, SIOOO.OO; Patron, $500.00; Fellow, $100.00; Associate, $50.00; Conlriljuting, $25.00; Sustaining, SL5.00; Active, $10.00; Student, $5.00.

Contributions to the Society are lax exempt.

Mailing Address: 1.36 East l)e la Guerra Street

Santa Barbara, California 93101

SANTA BARBARA HISTORICAL SOCIETY OFFICERS President

Mr. Francis Price

First Vice-President

Mr. Patrick Lloj'^d-Butler

Second Vice-President ...

Secretary

Col. Henry deB. Forbes, Jr. Miss Lilian Fish

Treasurer

Mr. John D. Gill

Museum Director

Mrs. Henry Griffiths Mr. Robert Gates

Acting Editor of Noticias

DIRECTORS Mrs. William Azbell

Mr. J. V. Crawford

Mrs. Elizabeth Hay Bechtel

Mrs. Albert de L’Arbre

Mrs. Roger Brewster Mrs. Charles Cannon

Mrs. Edwin Deuter

Mrs. E. G. Chambers

Mr. William W. Murfey

Mr. Gene Harris

Mrs. M. Cameron Conkey

Miss Frederica D. Poett

Rev. Virgil Cordano, O.F.M.

Mr. Russell Ruiz

HONORARY DIRECTORS Dr. Hilmar 0. Koefod*

Mr. Thomas More Storke*

Mr. E. Selden Spaulding

Mrs. W. Edwin Gledhill

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

Mr. Edwin Gledhill Director Emeritus

Sir John Galvin

LIFE MEMBERS Mrs. Charles Deere Wiman Mrs. Elizabeth Bechtel

Mr. Spencer Murfey Mrs. Alfred Millard

Mr. J. V. Crawford

Mr. Don Kilbourne*

Mrs. J. V. Crawford

Dr. and Mrs. Melville Sah)un

Mr. and Mrs. William W. Murfev

Mr. M. Cameron Conkey 'Deceased

Non-Profit Org. QUARTERLY BULLETIN OF THE SANTA BARBARA HISTORICAL SOCIETY 136 EAST DE LA GUERRA STREET SANTA BARBARA, CALIFORNIA 93101

U. $. Postage PAID Santa Barbara, Calif.

Permit No. S34