Horse and Saddle Days

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I

Df.iwii by Edward Borcin

Horse and Saddle Days

VOL. Vll, NO. 3

AUTUMN, 1961

NOTICIA5 QUARTERLY BULLETIN OF THE SANTA BARBARA HISTORICAL SOCIETY MAILING ADDRESS: OLD MISSION, SANTA BARBARA, CALIFORNIA

Roundup Time at Rancho San Julian

By Dr. Trying Wills This is an era of Automation in Industry, and even the Cattle Industry, while not automated, has undergone a certain amount of mechanization. This account of a Roundup is set in a period some thirty years ago, and on a ranch where the flavor of the old Spanish customs and methods of working cattle were as yet virtually unchanged from those of earlier days.

Rancho San Julian in 1930 comprised some 35,000 acres. Originally it had been granted to Don Jose de la Guerra in 1823. It remains one of the few of the old “grants” which still is lield by descendants of the original fam ily. Its ownership however, has undergone some changes along the way.

Sometime after the mid 1800’s it was lost through foreclosure to Caspar Orcha, who sold it a few years later to Thomas B. Dibblee. Dibblee, who had come to Santa Barbara County from White Plains, New York, fell in love with and married Francisca, Don Jose’s granddaughter, in 1868, thereby bringing the ranch back into the de la Guerra family. One of the sons of this union, the late Thomas Wilson Dibblee, in turn married Anita Orena, the beautiful and charming granddaughter of Gasi>ar Orena, and the ranch reverted, in part, to the Oreiias.

From earliest times, it had been customary for a rancher to invite to his ranch at round-up time his neighbors and such other of his friends as enjoyed these activities. It was my good fortune that Wilson Dibblee included me in the list he invited year after year. ’File date of a roundup was always very important to those who followed the Spanish tradition. It must be in the dark of the moon. The old timers were certain that the young calves, on which certain procedures such as de horning, altering, etc., were carried out, would bleed much more and in gen eral do less well during the time when the moon was either full or in its ascendancy. Nice Wilson, although convinced by the reports from the Bureau of Animal Husbandry that this was little more than superstition, went along with old Santiago Rios who, at seventy-plus years of age, still functioned as a sort of honorary Range Boss.

My first invitation came in 1930 and when I learned that my friend, Hobart Skofield, was also included, we decided that it would be more in keeping with the old tradition to “Ride the Chuckline” to the ranch . .. a distance of some sixty-five miles . . . than to drive up in the modern manner

"Splitting the Riders'

with our horses in a trailer. Since the beginning of cattle ranching in the West, cowboys looking for work “rode the chuckline” from ranch to ranch, where a place in the bunkhouse, grub for man and feed for horse were always free.

We met on the Arroyo Burro Trail, where it joined the trail from San Roque Canyon, at 2:30 P.M. on a beautiful, sunny afternoon in the latter part of April. This trail we followed to the top of the range where it joined the then primitive beginnings of El Camino Cielo, turned west and, after several miles, crossed San Marcos Road at the summit of the mountain.

Here I opened my big mouth too wide. Previously, Hobart and I had been over El Camino Cielo west of San Marcos pass for several miles and we both knew that to get on it we had to ride down the San Marcos to the Kinevan Ranch Road, cross Dead Man Canyon, and thence go up to the top of the southern wall of the canyon. I insisted that this was several miles out of our way and that a better plan was to head directly west on an old trail atop the northern wall. This I had ridden several years previously and, though I hadn’t followed it very far, I was convinced that it joined the road a couple of miles west, near the head of Dead Man Canyon. It was getting dark and a cold wind had come up, another reason, I pointed out, for taking this shorter route.

About the time it got good and dark ... as Ed Borein would have said: “As dark as the inside of a cow,” the trail somehow petered out and Hobart’s horse, which was in the lead, seemed to me to be wandering around in the brush and getting nowhere. Hobart tried to help him out with a flashlight 2

but this only served to confuse him, and he suddenly stopped short and, as I came up alongside, Hobart again turned on his flashlight. We found ourselves saying “Hello, God” on the very brink of an almost perpendicular bluff. I was riding my wise old horse, “Indio”, who had been brought up in the mountains and always seemed to have better night vision than an owl. I sug gested that we put him in the lead, give him a loose rein and see what would happen. I touched Indio with my spur and he started off in what looked to be the wrong direction, but we were by that lime too cold, tired, confused and hungry to care very much.

Indio just “picked ’em up and layed ’em down” as if he were following a road map and after what seemed hours, pulled up, nickering, in front of a large black mass that smelled like, and proved to be, a barn. Tliere was an answering nicker from inside the stable and a moment or two later, we saw a flashlight coming toward us from another building. We had arrived at a camp owned by the late George Owen Knapp, which he calletl “Indian Cave Lodge”. This became the first stop on our chuckline ride. The caretaker helped us put up and feed our horses, then led us to the cottage where he cooked us a swell supper and, after a bull session by the fire, we turned in for the night.

The next morning, bright and early, we again struck out, after a break fast of ham and eggs, wheat cakes and coffee, big enough to satisfy our newly acquired cowboy appetites. We rode west on a trail along the crest of the range, at times looking down on the Goleta Valley and the Pacific and, a few moments later, as w'e swung around to the north side of the ridge, being greeted by the thrilling expanse of the Santa Ynez Valley. A leisurely ride of several hours brought us past Santa Ynez Peak, a mile or so west of what is now called TV Peak, to a shallow bowl on the top of the ridge with a beau tiful growth of both pines and oaks. Here we lunched on the hefty sandwiches which had been thoughtfully tucked into our saddlebags by our recent host.

From a vantage point on the north edge of this bowl, we got a most inspiring view of the lower Santa Ynez Valley and could make out Santa Ynez, Solvan Los Olivos and a number of the large ranch holdings.

A mile or two west, we could see Refugio Pass Road, but having been brought up to believe that roads were built for wagons and such, we searched for and found the old trail which led down the north slope of the mountain to Rancho Juan y Lolita, owned by our mutual friends, Jack and Lolita Mitchell, and managed by their genial foreman, Harvey McDonald. Harvey seemed “right glad” to see us. Of course, we knew that at Rancho Juan y Lolita there always had been close adherence to the old Spanish tradition when a visitor arrived. Harvey and his attractive wife saw to it that “the hungry man was fed”, and I still recall with pleasure that delightful meal and the night’s rest in the bunkhouse where Hobart and I look turns sawing the heavy timbers which support it.

The following morning, llarvey rode with us to the Alisal, where Emmett Ed’-ards was in command for the then owner, Charlie Perkins. We fooled around the ranch long enough to get invited to dinner (lunch to you) and then Emmett saddled up and piloted us across the western part of the Alisal to the Nojoqui. and after bidding him Adios, we crossed the ranches of the Georgi Brothers, Las Cruces Ranch of the Hollister Estate, Rancho de los Llanitos, owned by our friends, Pete and Ann Jackson, dropping into the 3

eastern portion of Rancho San Julian designated as Yridises, and now owned by the Poelt family, direct descendents of the de la Guerras. Crossing the Yridises, we arrived late in the afternoon at La Casa de San Julian, by what is now called the “back way”.

Our welcome at this historic old ranch could not have been warmer nor more enthusiastic had it been staged. Our host, Wilson, had assumed, of course, that we would arrive with a car and horse trailer just as did everyone else coming from Santa Barbara. Wilson always had a keen feeling for the traditional thing, and he seemed touched by the fact that this visit by Hobart and me meant enough to us that we chose to come all the way on horseback.

Wilson Dibblee just missed being handsome, but his face, a blend of his English and Spanish heritage, though patrician to a degree, exuded a warmth in the eyes and sensitive mouth, and the dignity so characteristic of breeding was never marred by arrogance.

To the visitor to the ranch, be he gentleman or penniless cowhand looking for work. Wilson was alw'ays the kindly Patron. And when one arrived at the ranch, he did not need to say as his Sjjanish forebears had said for centuries: “Bienvenido. Amigo, Mi Casa es Suya”. (Welcome, my friend, my house is yours). It shone in his eyes, it was in his warm smile, you felt it in his hand

clasp.

Having cared for our horses .. . even the “dude” cowboy looks after his own horse . . . we crossed over from the spacious barns through the gate in the white fence and into the west wing of the romantic old adobe which has been the headquarters of Rancho San Julian for well over a century.

As we followed Wilson into the sala, or living room, we got an enthusi astic greeting from a whole group of friends gathered there. Time does unfair things to one’s memory, but 1 seem to recall seeing the late Sam Stanwood. Joe De Yong, the well known Western artist, and the late Lou Hitch cock, together with a number of others whose names escape me. They were all sitting around the fire .. . April evenings are often chilly at San Julian.

Many a “dude” cowboy has enjoyed the annual roundups at San Julian; some of them had graduated from actual cowboy life. Among these might be mentioned the late Will Rogers, Leo Carrillo and his brother Jack, noted engineer, Ed Borein, and a host of others.

We had arrived just in time for a before supper libation, and despite the fact that the nation was loyally supporting (?) the “Noble Experiment”, most of us present had had the foresight to bring along a bit of “Medicinal Spirits” in case of snakebite! And because almost all doctors, including myself, warn against the use of alcoholic stimulants after one has suffered from snakebite, the “Ounce of Prevention” seemed justified and logical.

There is an old Spanish toast which I have always thought charming, and nowhere has it seemed more appropriate than that evening and the many other evenings through many years that followed at Rancho San Julian. Wil son raised his glass and said, “Salud” (Health). The chap next him replied, “y Pesetas” (and wealth) ; the next one: “y Tiempo para Gastar Los” (and time in which to spend them); “y Amor”; “y Las Mujeres”; etc., etc. More than twenty years later in Sevilla as guests of my good friend Don Manuel Bermudo y Barrera, my daughter and I were charmed to be able to respond to the identical toast as we raised our tiny glasses of Manzanilla.

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'La Gaviotito'

The large ranch bell rang shortly and we moved into the comedor, an old stone paved adobe dining room, also heated by a welcome open fire. There was a table extending almost the length of the room along one wall with benches on each side. A somewhat shorter table paralleled the first along the opposite wall. Tins latter was to take care of overflow, since on the old California ranches, no one knew just how many would be present for a meal, and everyone present on the ranch—the owner, his family, cowboys, various “hired hands”, old retainers, sat down together. There was no obvious seat assignment, as re;^ards who sat above or below the “salt” but, of course. where Wilson sat was the head of the table. were Large pitchers of soup, plates of bread, and a large coffee pot already on the table and as we started in on these, Soo, the Chinese cook, came in from the kitchen with platters of meat and bowls of vegetables, in cluding (he ahva>s })resent “fiijoles” with just a touch of chile Colorado. Soo was dressed in the characteristic Chinese tunic and loose flapping, thin cotton Oriental trousers. As he padded his way in with the typical “toed out” gait, his cloth slippers made a whispering sound on the stone floor . . . something like Ray Bolger when he dances “The Old Soft Shoe . a cow ranch. Eating Little time is spent in conversation when at table at is a serious business and occupies just about all of anyone s attention. The 5

food is both plentiful and delicious, even if one doesn’t have a rancli appetite.

After the pie and another cup of coffee, each person at the table picks up his plate and “eating tools” and carries them to the kitchen. If you are a new comer, you may be rewarded by a somewhat surprised smile from the other wise inscrutable Soo. I mention the pie as if it were the only dessert, and this is more or less so, first because it is a favorite sweet with most men, and further because the Chinese are among the best pastry cooks in the world.

Supper over, Wilson ushered us back into the sala where before long, a penny-ante poker game got under way. Although on many later occasions I engaged in this after-supper pastime, neither Hobart nor I needed anyone to “rock us to sleep” that night and it was no time at all before we were peace fully “sawing it off”.

Now, when it comes to “sheet music”, I have always been considered to be fairly well accomplished. After that first night, I found that the ever diplomatic Wilson had arranged another roommate for me in the person of joe De Yong. This I welcomed enthusiastically, since Joe and I were (and continue to be) close friends. It later dawned on me that there may have been another reason for Wilson’s arranging the switch in bunkmates .. . Joe, at the age of eighteen, had completely lost his hearing!

Lou Hitchcock was an old-timer at San Julian roundups in addition to being one of Wilson’s dear friends. It didn’t seem at all strange to find that Lou had been assigned the only single room in the house, nor that it was located at considerable distance from the quarters of the rest of us, and had walls four feet thick! I later learned why. Lou had long since demonstrated his prowess; and the superiority in timbre (I could say timber), the depth of tone, the breath control and the sheer volume of sound resulting from masterful technique of his pharyngeal vibration was something to marvel at!

The big ranch bell seemed to ring almost immediately after we turned in, and it was still dark when our feet hit the floor and we sleepily kicked into our boots and Levis and started for the barn to feed our horses. The second bell rang just about the time we finished saddling and we headed for the house and breakfast. Stewed prunes, oatmeal, ham and eggs, toast, pancakes and coffee “strong enough to float a rock”, layed a firm foundation for the day’s work.

Here Lou Hitchcock demonstrated his resourcefulness. Soo, like most Chinese cooks, had provided much more food than even a bunch of hungry cowhands could get away with and, among other things, there was a full plat ter of huge pancakes left over. Lou picked up a “stack”, carefully wrapped them in a paper napkin and tucked them inside his shirt. About 10:30 that morning, when the rest of us were beginning to wonder if chow time would ever come, we hungrily watched Lou, off across the canyon, munching away at his “hot” cakes. He later insisted that they were just as warm and twice as good as when they came off the platter.

It was just getting light when we headed for the barn, watered and bridled the horses, buckled on chaps and spurs, took up an inch or two in the latigoes and stepped aboard. Several of the ponies had humps in their backs that chilly morning, or perhaps they were just feeling their youth and wanted to show off. As these exuberant ponies bucked across the yard, any one who “pulled leather” was given a “hooraw!” I was glad that Indio was 6

saving his strength for the day ahead . ..(maybe he was just too old to care) and let me mount without moving a step.

We started olT across country toward the eastern end of the ranch and after several miles, headed into a narrow canyon and began an upward climb through the pass known as the Gaviotita (little seagull). This narrow defile reminded me of one of the Frank Tenney Johnson pictures, with a lone cow boy riding down such a trail in the moonlight, the glow of his cigaret lighting his face. At the top, we came out on a broad mesa from which there was a magnificent view of mountain and valley in every direction. The sun was just coming up over the high ridge to the east, tinting the peaks with rose but not high enough to wash out the deep blue-black shadows of the arroyos.

Wilson gathered us together for the business of “splitting the riders”. We were told which way the drive was to move, the approximate time and place we could expect to join up, which of us were to wait at various check points, etc., and then we rode off in pairs to cover our assigned territory.

Because it was my first roundup at San Julian, my partner was Santiago Rios, or as we Anglicized it, Jim. Santiago w'as a colorful character and though over seventy years of age, sat his horse like a centaur. Like many Spanish-Mexican Vaqueros, he possessed a phenomenal memory which en abled him to identify literally hundreds of animals in the vast herds of the ranch. As he daily rode the range, he knew exactly where he was likely to find the ones seen previously, which needed “doctoring”. There was probably not a tree, tiny gully, large rock or small cave on that huge ranch w'hich Jim couldn’t locate in the dark.

From his part Indian mother, Jim had learned to identify all the healing herbs which his forebears had used for generations, and which were so su perior to the “Medicina” of the “come-lately” doctors, and which were looked upon by them with such disdain! Because I was one “Medico” who didn’t scoff at the merits of those precious “hierbas”, Jim pointed out to me the “Moronel”, the “Tabardillo”. the “Oreja Dellebre”, and many other hierbas which had cured his people of so many ills before the scientific Medicos came.

From what we of the medical profession have since learned tlirough the years, a careful analysis of the old Indian Pharmacopoeia might be rewarding. Let’s face it. We learned about tlie indispensible heart remedy. Digitalis, from a lay woman who was thought to be a witch, or at least a quack healer; and from the Chinese Herbalists, we later learned that there was a similar drug which they had extracted from tlie skin of the frog for some three or four thousand years and used in a similar manner! From these same herbalists we got an other almost indispensible drug. Fphedrine. from the Chinese herb Ma Huang, It was the Indian \\ ho taught the first of the Spanish explorers about the one herb which would relieve the effect of their so costive diet. This was the bark of a shrub, which the grateful Spaniard named “Cascara Sagrada” favorite remedv for this I sacred bark) and which remains to tliis day ])roblem with so man\ people.

But back to the rounduj) . . .

Jim. like so many of those old Californios, was an excellent horseman.

A good horseman is considerably more than a good “rider”. It was Jim who see taught Wilson Dibblee to ride and he couldn’t have had a better pupil. To Wilson, when he had himself reached seventy years, ride his favorite Aero plane” at full gallop down a precipitous mountain-side, to head off and bring 7

Rancho SanJuLian LEGEND : - RIDERS CATTLE CALVES FLANKERS BRAhDERS % KNITE MAN

Yearlim&s

Holding- Ground

^^BULLg

FIRE

BRANDINGIRONS

back a wild “bunchquitting” steer, was a motion picture far more thrilling than any present day “moving picture”Jim and I separated and started hazing the scattered cattle down toward the floor of the valley. The area we were “working” that day is known euphemistically as the upper “slopes” and as we rode down the steep canyon wall and began the rugged climb up the other side, I was reminded of Will Rogers’ visit to Charlie Thompson’s 7X Ranch near Paso Robles. Will said, “There’s one nice thing about your ranch, Charlie. If you get tired, you can lean up agin’ her ’most any place”!

The cattle were scattered out and grazing all over these rough slopes.

Each little draw or barranca, every clump of brush and trees was carefully “combed” so that no cow or calf would be left behind. As we looked across the valley from various high points, we could see other riders working out the “brakes” and cattle in every direction moving down the slopes; sometimes a cow slowly descending looking back and “mooing” to call her reluctant off spring . . . eternal motherhood. When she thought no one was watching, a sly cow might try to lead her calf into a patch of brush or other place of concealment, and if this were allowed to happen too often, there would surely be a strange and unexplainable discrepancy in the day’s “count”. Or perhaps a gay youngster of male persuasion would decide he didn’t want to go along with the bunch, and would take off at top speed . . . that’s when it got exciting ... when, with a sure-footed pony under you, you matched speed and quick turns with him, up, down or across, until he decided to give up and return to the gathering herd.

About eleven o’clock, we began joining up with the others with their “catch” on the floor of the valley and the herd was strung out for its slow easy march to the holding ground. The riders took their proper positions as “point riders,” “swing” or “drag” to keep the cattle moving in the proper direction, at the proper speed, and above all to prevent “bunch quitters” from taking off into the brush.

On most ranches, corrals had long since taken the place of the “holding ground,” as a place to “work the herd.” The reason is obvious, since with two, three, or four connecting pens the business of parting bulls, cows, calves, dry stock, feeders, is much easier and requires fewer riders- In the old days of the open range, especially on the prairies where fencing materials were hard to come by, most of the herds were worked in the open, using some riders to hold the animals together, while the others did the parting, roping, branding, etc. It was here that the good “cutting horse” performed so beau tifully. Let us say you wished to “cut out”, that is, part out a bull . . . On your good cutting horse, you would ride quietly into the herd where you would indicate which animal you wanted. Your pony took care of the rest, for no matter which way the bull went, the horse was just a thought ahead of him, working him quietly to the outside, then taking him away with a burst of speed, up to the little draw or pocket where he was to be held. Your pony’s return to the herd for his next one was a picture of utter nonchalance, never exciting the rest of the animals but always ready for a split second start to keep your next choice from breaking back.

In the upper “slopes” area of San Julian, so much of the terrain was alniOst straight up and down that prior to 1930 or for that matter, for some years thereafter, a road into the region of the holding ground represented 9

;

"On the Trail to the Corral"

a major undertaking. The bull-dozer and carryall which were to come into common use for road building were still a bit too primitive and the cost of such a project prohibitive considering the road’s limited use. I was glad of the necessity for following the old Spanish method, for despite the fact that I had been on roundups in San Benito County in my early youth, corrals were already in use there and I had only the old-timers’ descriptions given me at that time to help me visualize how it was done.

The parting completed, about half of the riders moved over to a grove of trees where Pico, an old retainer, was completing his preparations for the noon meal. Pico had ridden over earlier, leading a pack horse loaded with everything needed to feed some twenty-five hungry “punchers.” He had dug a barbecue pit and his fire had burned down to a satisfactory bed of coals. On one end of the grid sat the large range coffee pot sending out to all of us it’s silent invitation, by way of the most fragrant aroma known to man. Next to the coffee, there was a huge kettle of frijoles bubbling away and quite successfully competing with it’s own incomparable perfume. By the time Pico spread the huge steaks on the hot grid, we thought our “big guts were eating up our little guts!” When we finally heard the invitation to “come and get it” there were no laggards.

The inner man having been taken care of, we tightened cinches and re U* mounted, to relieve the rest of the crew so that they might have their inn ings,” following which the really important work of the day began.

The spring roundup has several purposes: First, and perhaps most im portant, to brand and earmark the young calves which have been born during the previous winter and spring. Only in this way can an animal be identified 10

and his ownership established in the future, whether he be found as a stray on some other ranch, or when he is offered for sale. Each brand (Fierro) and earmark (Sehal) is registered with the State Bureau of Animal Identifica tion, and must be examined by the State Brand Inspector when animals change hands. Formerly, brands were registered by the County Clerk, which made for a lot of confusion if animals were moved to other counties, since the identical brand might be used by several ranchers, scattered about the country. The practice of branding and otherwise marking animals goes back to ancient Egyptian times, according to Don Perceval of Santa Barbara, who wrote a most interesting and exhaustive paper on the subject for The Westerners “Brand Book.” In his article, Perceval shows reproductions of pictures of actual branding taken from the tombs of two officials of Tuthmosis IV, 18th dynasty or 1421-1413 B.C. A second purpose of the roundup is to vaccinate the youngsters against disease, alter the males which are to be “grown out for beef,” and at the same time prevent inbreeding, remove budding horns, because horned ani mals bruise each other while being shipped to market, resulting in loss in meat. A third function is parting out the “dry”, i.e. barren cows which, since they are unproductive, will be sold for beef. Cripples and strays from other ranches are also separated and properly disposed of.

Every rancher who breeds his own stock checks carefully his “calf crop” and in his records, this is expressed in percentages. A fair “yield” is 85%.

My old friend, the late Joe Drake, after whom the Boy Scout Camp is named, years ago bought a tiny “ranch” in Santa Ynez Valley, which he called “Rancho de Una Vaca” (one cow). On this little ranch Joe kept one dairy cow, and when in the company of cowmen, where the calf crop percentages invariably came into the conversation, Joe would solemnly report that his “calf crop” was always 100%, to the dismay of those unfamiliar with Joe’s “spread”, and his waggish ways!

There are a number of different types of “cow ranch” . . . some are “cow and calf” propositions, some are “feeder” ranches where young calves are purchased at the “weaner” stage and “grown out,” that is, pastured until they are “grass fat”, and then either put on concentrated feed to “finish” them or sent to a “feed lot” for the same purpose. Some ranches are limited to breeding “registered stock”, and these first quality pure bred animals are purchased by the other ranchers for the purpose of “breeding up” their herds. Ancillary and combination types of ranches have also their place in the industry.

At Rancho San Julian, the late Thomas B. Dibblee, and his son, Wilson (for the heirs), carried on not only a cow and calf ranch, but early devel oped a registered herd from which selected animals were from time to time added to the “grade” herd in order to improve it. In the library at the ranch, there are shelves of bound volumes of the old breeding records. The choice, when the op>eration began years ago, was the “Short Horn” or Durham, and this was the breed produced exclusively on San Julian when first I went there. In the latter years of his life, Wilson Dibblee began cross-breeding the “Wnite Face” or Hereford into the herd, since it was becoming increasingly difficult to find good Short Horn “Blood.” The ranch eventually made the switch to the White Face just as so many others had changed over to this very popular breed.

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I

Through the Gotc"

finished product when first he Every “dude” cowboy fancies himself mounts his horse and “builds his loop.” After missing a number of throws and seeing with what grace and ease the professional ropes a calf, the dude usually becomes properly humbled and is shamed into working on the ground at the more menial tasks of flanking and throwing the roped calf, dehorning, vaccinating, earmarking, etc. When one considers that in the Spanish language the word “Caballero” (literally “horseman”) was and remains almost syn onymous with “Gentleman”, the dude may l>e forgiven his reluctance to carry out the duties of a groundling.

When our beloved Leo Carrillo and his brother Jack came to San Julian ball”. First, let it be said, Leo’s for one of the roundups, we really had background as regards both horsemanship and the skills associated with “working” cattle, were acquired in his boyhood under old time ranch con ditions and traditions so that despite his addition in later years of some of the costuming and tricks of the showman, Leo must never be confused with the motion-picture cowboy. Leo and I were paired in the corral at Las Cruces and it was there that that rascal gave me my comeuppance. In team roping, when a calf is roped, the first roper catches him by the head, and his partner is assigned the more difficult duty of “picking up the heels”. Usually the rop ers alternate as regards which “end” they rope. Leo was skilled enough to have roped either “end” but he knew 1 wasn’t; besides, he had to have his fun. So he would make a “head catch”, then let out as much rope as he could to give the galloping calf lots of radius, then sit back on his horse and 12

say in the typical paisano manner and accent, “You know, thees Doc, he don’ rope purty good”! Even if I had been good, the odds against my pick ing up the heels would have far exceeded the house percentage at Las Vegas.

Leo came to San Julian dressed like the lowliest peon from the poorest rancho in Mexico. Below, he had on a much worn pair of pantalones and, above, a Mexican camisa with the tails tied around his waist, paisano fashion, with a bit of belly showing above his belt. A sombrero, much the worse for wear, sat atop his head, at that particular angle which the Mexican vaquero assumes naturally, but which his American “cozzin” can never successfully imitate. My old friend, Ed Borein, who drew and painted so many of Leo’s “cozzins” often said that no one, not born or brought up in Mexico, could don a Mexican sombrero at just that proper angle without at least a dozen rehearsals. Leo could not only do that at the first try, but in addition, could roll, light and smoke a Mexican “cigarillo” naturally enough to fool a native!

What an actor and what a guy!

Harking back to the groundlings, I must confess that despite the fact I knew I had no right to consider myself a “roper”, I still felt a certain amount of ignominy at being “grounded”; I was spared a portion of it since, because of my regular profession (surgery), I was delegated to perform the surgical operations on the male calves! And considering that even on a cow ranch this is a “specialist’s” job, I didn’t completely lose face! True, I did get ribbed a bit about taking a bus-man’s holiday. Wilson, always a most considerate and thoughtful soul, saw to it that all the amateurs had an opportunity to practice the cowboy’s art. Each roper was allowed ten calves, after which he had to dismount and work on the ground for a like number. In this way, work and play were equalized.

As a rule, the roping is done in pairs, usually three, a method called “team roping”. The first roper catches the calf’s head, “takes his dallies”, that is, two or more turns of the rope around the pommel, and his horse holds firm as his partner maneuvers into a proper position behind and to the side of the jumping, struggling calf, makes his throw and if it is a good one, picks up both of the hind feet in his loop. Tlie calf is half led and half dragged toward the fire where the irons are hot and the ground crew ready to carry out their sjjecial duties. Gentleness is stressed, if for no other reason than to protect the animal from injury.

The good vaquero prides himself on his skills, particularly his handling of a rope. At the many Rodeos which the general public attends, one sees Bronk riding, Bulldogging, and a lot of the more exciting events. The roping, whether single or team, is in the main a race against time. There is no place except for the occasional trick roping event, for the cowboy to show his skill in roping an animal under ranch conditions.

At Rancho San Julian during the many years I was present at roundup time, I was fortunate in seeing some of the best roping I have seen anywhere before or since. Among the “professionals” whom one would never have seen at the big shows were Edouardo Chayra and A1 Boscaro. Edouardo was to me the most graceful roper I have ever seen. He used a long Riata or “skin rope” (rawhide) as compared to the so-called grass ropes, made of Maguey or hemp, or the nylon of this later day. The technique of throwing these various ropes varies considerably. It has always seemed to me that nothing could match the beauty which these older ropers exhibited, and to 13

see Edouardo make a long throw from an impossible angle or position was to see poetry in motion! And there was, withal, the casualness, so charac teristic of the artist.

Among the others present on a number of occasions, who although not “working cowboys” were outstanding in their skill with a rope, was the noted Western artist, Joe De Yong, mentioned earlier. Joe had spent his youth as a cowboy, then like our mutual friend, Ed Borein, had turned to art. Joe was a protegee of the late great Western artist, Charles M. Russell, and lived in the Russell household for some years before striking out for himself. In later years, in addition to his painting, he has done technical direction on many Western Feature pictures in Hollywood, including “Geronimo”, “Wells Fargo”, and many others. Joe was much too modest or had in him too little of the showman to let us see just how skilled he was. I remember asking him once, when the boys were showing ofT some of their “Sunday” throws, why he didn’t break out a few more of his best. Joe replied quietly, “It’s always wise to keep your best ones in the bag .. . if you don’t, some guy is sure to top you. If you don’t show ’em all, he doesn’t know for sure, just what you’ve got left!”

Among the “working cowboys”, either employed or visitors, on the great ranch during the years I visited it, the names of many like Chico Castro, Joe and Jack Cagianut, A1 Kalen, George Simpson, A1 Parker, and Rod and Bud Howerton come to mind. All good fellows “to ride the river with”. All good cowboys. 1 rode and roped with Chico perhaps more than any of the others and he taught me much of cowboy lore. Chico was the typical Spanish-California cowboy. He was short, however, particularly from the waist down, slim hipped, dark of skin and burned darker from his many years in the sun. His trunk was thick set and he possessed a powerful pair of arms and shoulders.

His large, thick hands were strong, but his touch on the rein of his horse was as delicate as a child’s. Chico had a “way” with a horse and his mount’s schooling was never really finished. I remember watching him once as we started off. He was wearing spurs, of course, but instead of touching his horse’s flanks, Chico sort of shook his feet back and forth, making the spur chains slap against his stirrups. I asked him if his horse was “touchy” and he replied, “No, but he knows I’m wearing ’em, so all I have to do is remind him.

This way he don’t get galled after being spurred forty or fifty time a day”.

Another time, he w-as riding a young horse which had the annoying habit of backing up every time Chico tried to mount. Chico would speak to him quiet ly but not punish him; then when he came to a place where there was a steep cut hank several feet high, he would dismount, back the horse to the brink 7 --jc \ K* i. '

4. >

X

( ● k’Hii

"The Riders"

14

of the cut bank and then start to mount. Like most good horses, this one learned quickly!

Among the many “amateurs” who came to the ranch through the years, were Bill Hitchcock, son of Lou, Ted Chamberlin, H. H. (Tubby) Davis (these latter two not truly amateurs since both are ranch owners). Bob and Bill Herdman, Channing Peake and many others. Bill Hitchcock was one of the best of the amateur ropers and the combination of Bill and his palomino horse “Esta Bueno” was sure to give a good account of itself.

Lest I leave you with the impression that ranching, even in the old days at San Julian, was strictly a masculine operation, there must be a few words inserted in behalf of the distaff side. Francisca de la Guerra Dibblee was in many ways an old world matriarch. I recall Wilson’s pointing out to me the gullies draining into El Jaro Creek and his telling me that his mother deplored these as a waste of good soil, which could never be replaced, and urging him to find some way to prevent this costly erosion .. . at a time when range land wasn’t thought to be worth more than a few dollars per acre! True to their heritage, her granddaughters, Virginia (now Mrs. Robert Hoytl, and Nan (now Mrs. Earl Russell) held the selfsame love of and for the ranch holdings of their forebears. Incidentally, Earl Russell, Nan’s husband, and nephew of Joe and Hubbard Russell of the Conejo and Cuyama Ranchos, has man aged Rancho San Julian since the thirties.

It has always been gratifying to me, as a native Californian, albeit with out a Spanish background, to see this great ranch holding remain so close and so dear to these two. Of course, Dibbs (Dibblee Poett), Nan’s brother and cousin to Virginia, could be expected to carry on the traditions of the great ranch, so I mention him only in passing. At roundup time, both Virginia and Nan (after they had returned from their stint at school) were always present, and when it came to serious attention to the many details of ranch practice, they kept all of us dudes on our toes. When Virginia or Nan carefully ap plied a hot iron to the right hip of a calf, something unmistakable in that act said, as it had for centuries, “MINE”. They were and are good horse women and it isn’t too many years since Virginia distinguished herself in the Santa Barbara Horse Show.

Returning to the work of the day: The scene at either a corral or at the holding ground was always exciting even though it was in every way a business-like operation. As each calf was “heeled” and stretched out, one of the ground crew would “flank” the animal and throw it on its side. The neck rope would be transferred to the two front feet and the two ponies would back up just enough to stretch the ropes taut and keep the calf from rising.

Simultaneously, the man tending the fire where the irons were heating would come running with a hot iron and probably, the ear clipper. With one of the crew holding the head down, the brander would steady the hind leg with his foot as he applied the iron to the hip. There would be the acrid odor of burn ing hair as the hot iron was applied, but what always surprised one, little or no protest from the animal.

Many have condemned the practice of branding cattle, as a needlessly cruel procedure. First, let me say that, after assisting in the practice since boyhood, I have always been impressed by the lack of resistance or, for that matter, response, in the animal subjected to it. Further, as a student, in the days when hazing was part of the initiation ceremony of many Greek Letter 15

T. Wilson Dibbtee on Acroplano

Sontiogo Rios

r' t

Fraternities, I was myself “branded” with the mystic Greek letters of my fraternity and my left arm still bears the mark put there years ago with a red hot branding iron. While I do not wish to make a case for that practice, certainly the experience left no residual psychic trauma, so that I can’t help but feel that those who deplore the practice on purely humanitarian grounds are possibly a bit too far out in left field.

After the “earmark” or “senal” had been applied to the right ear with the ear clipper, perhaps one of the riders would call “Toro” or “Macho” (male) and the “specialist” would come running with knife and antiseptic. If a heifer, a “jaw brand” was put on. This was a single numeral .. . the last digit of the year; for example, in 1930, a single “0” was branded on the right jaw. In this way, since almost all the heifers were kept to increase the herd, the age of any cow could be told at a glance by the range rider. At the call, “Medicina”! the vaccinator would come and inject the vaccine into the neck, then the budding horns having been taken care of, the ponies would move up to slack off the rof>es and the somewhat bewildered calf would get up a bit gingerly at first, then finding it was free, scamper off to join the rest.

Throughout the entire working period, there was a cacophony of strange sounds mixed or blended together, rising and falling in intensity, continually changing in quality and difficult to measure in decibels. It was a wild mixture of bawling calves, mooing of mother cows calling their young, the grunt and snort of horses, the high-pitched call of the bulls in their distant holding pen or canyon, shouts of riders and ground crew. To the uninitiated, it might be bedlam. To the old hand, it was a symphony!

With three teams active, the work went quickly and usually by late afternoon, the last calf was worked over. Then, after the irons were cooled in the nearby creek, or with water from the canteens, and stowed on the pack horse, and the fire was put out, the ground crew saddled and stepped aboard their ponies and the cavalcade started back toward the distant ranch house, driving ahead of it the “dry” cut and possibly the bulls; these to be dropped off at their respective pastures on the way home.

On this first roundup, and many later ones, Lou Hitchcock insisted on halting at the last watering trough on the way home to give Wilson and me and a select few a nip from the miniscule flask which he carried and which he never brought out until we were almost in sight of the ranch house. Lou assured us that the horses could walk faster after we had carried out this bit of ceremony, and 1 am sure he was correct, even though none of us got much more than a tablespoonful and the horses, of course, none at all. Strangely, however, like the miraculous pitcher, that flask, to my knowledge, was never

emptied I At the headquarters, with our horses unsaddled, watered, rubbed down and fed, we crossed the road and headed for the sitting room of the old adobe.

Soo had layed a fire in the fireplace but before we could settle down before it, thoughtful Wilson herded us, one by one, into the shower where the hot water took all the potential ache out of our bones, and the cold which fol lowed gave us added zest for the libation which was to follow, as well as increasing our appetites for Soo’s ever tasty and substantial supper.

There is an old olla on the south side of the casa which has been drip ping cool water for many, many years. Growing around it is a bed of mint to delight the heart of the crustiest Kentucky Colonel. Someone always man17

aged to see to it that there was a supply of those fragrant green leaves, dripping as though hearing morning dewdrops, in the sala when we returned from the shower. A Spanish toast, even with a drink as American as a Kentucky Mint Julep, didn’t seem in any way out of order!

Supper over and the after supper penny-ante game beginning to lag, a tired bunch of would-be cowhands turned in for a night’s sleep, uninterrupted until the big, relentless ranch bell called us again in the dark of the following morning.

On our first day, we worked perhaps the most difficult part of the ranch.

We had “combed” about 6000 acres of the roughest terrain imaginable. Our second day was not only in easier country but in many ways more beautiful, with fields bright with buttercups and tidytips poking their golden heads above the lush grass of the meadows. Our drive of the morning ended at the corral in Los Amoles, one of the more or less middle segments of the huge ranch.

I neglected to say earlier that the old Spanish ranches and for that mat ter, most of the country over which the early Spaniards traveled, received designating and identifying names for each tiny area, be it a barranca, canyon, large rock or what have you. Rancho Julian was, and is, divided into numerous segments, each with its name, so that if a dude like me were told that the boys were working a certain “named” part of the ranch, he might locate them if he followed the signs along the road. Even today as one drives from Las Cruces to Lompoc, he sees on either side of the road, signs with such legends as “El Callejon”, “La Golondrina”, “El Atascoso”, “La Cadena”, “El Jaro”, “Las Cuevitas”, etc. These and many others, each wdth the further designation “Rancho San Julian” carved in black on an orange background, directed the stranger to the various parts of the great ranch. On my first visit, as on many subsequent ones, one day followed another as we moved from one ranch division to the next. It was never dull, however, since each day seemed to bring its little surprises, in new terrain, or exciting happenings on the range or in the corral. Indeed, one day I had a bit of excitement

myself.

I was riding a new horse, or to be exact, a mare; she had been most well-behaved all morning and had taken me, sure-footedly, over some very rough country with a willingness to be admired. After lunch and a little siesta which we always indulged in when working at a corral, I went in with the first group of riders to rope my allotted ten calves. The little mare per formed perfectly oa the first one, and I felt quite proud, but when I roped my second one and my partner, Jack Cagianut, picked up the heels, we found that we couldn’t stretch it out because his horse was up against the corral fence. I called to Jack that I was going to take up a little slack, re leased my “dallies” and touched the mare with my spur to move her for ward. For some reason best known to her, she “broke in two” with me and as she started to buck, I threw my coil of rope to the right just in time to put ray right arm into the center of the coil. Well, she kept on bucking across the corral and I tried my best to stay aboard while tlie rope tangled around my right arm, the other end of which was attached to the calf, was pulling me relentlessly out of the saddle. Suffice it to say I not only did not make a good ride ... I didn’t stay aboard the ten seconds required of a bronk rider ... I simply ended up ignominously on the ground. I admit I had had enough 18

)

"Giving the Ponies a Breather" (Non Russel, Irving Wills, Virginia Hnyt, Lloyd Kalin)

but I knew that if I didn’t get back up I had better go home, so with shaky knees, I climbed back into the saddle. The little mare apparently had had her fun because she couldn’t have behaved more perfectly all the rest of the afternoon! In fact 1 liked her so much 1 tried to buy her, but it is just as well that my offer was refused because a day or two later at the Long Canyon cor ral, she repeated the performance; only this time she had a better rider up and he “rode her out” and showed her who was boss. Well, I had been bucked off before and I have been since. So what? I never pretended to be a bronc twister.

The sixth and last day, we worked the Palos Colorados, to me the most colorful part of the ranch, ending at the corrals in Long Canyon. This day was relatively uneventful but was perhaps the longest day I have ever spent in the saddle. Because of the distance from the headquarters, we started out long before dawn and at daylight, with the riders divided, began the long drive toward the corrals. Our noon meal was a big one and we all stoked up as we knew from the number of calves we saw in the bulging corrals there was a long afternoon ahead. The last calf was branded just at dark and as we turned them all out of the corral to find their mothers and get their longawaited sup}>er, we began to think that they had it on us, as we must ride another ten miles before we could get ours.

It has always baffled me, when several hundred bewildered little calves were turned out of a branding corral, how they ever got together again with the proper mothers. Grand Central Station at 5:15 certainly presents no more 19

confusion than this bringing together again of mothers and offspring! But somehow, without the assistance of the “Travelers’ Aid” or the “Man in Gray” there are never any lost “children”, to be held by kindly officers until “mam ma” can be located. Withal that the mother cows have been waiting outside the corral fence in a state of considerable anxiety for several hours, they go about the business of finding their young quite systematically. Perhaps each animal has its own particular odor, or maybe “mamma” instinctively just knows which one belongs to her . .. certainly in next to no time at all, they are all matched up, with each youngster vigorously putting away it’s supper and mamma standing patiently and mooing her contentment!

It was long after dark when we finally arrived at the barns and it was a bone-weary bunch of would-be cowhands who unsaddled, watered and fed our ponies, before dragging our tails behind us, to paraphrase the nursery rhyme, over to the adobe ranch house and what we knew it held for us.

Faithful, patient, bid Soo was waiting in his kitchen with the best supper I can recall ever eating. I remember little else except that the next day was Sunday and breakfast an hour later, which still seemed too early. Then, sometime in the latter part of the morning, Hobart and I got our gear to gether and made ready to depart for Santa Barbara. As we rode off, we turned to wave Adios to the tall, strong figure with the kindly, patrician face, and heard Wilson call softly: “Vaya con Dios!”.

Photos Courtesy Ilofcarl Skofidd .ind Robert lloyl.

Early Land Titles in Santa Barbara

By William Porter To even a casual observer, every Sunday paper advertises the fact that for some years now California has been in the midst of a real estate boom, a development that will soon make us the most populous state in the Union.

Thousands of real estate transactions a day, enormous financial projects, the formation of real estate investment trusts all point to the fact that not only is California real estate one of the more popular investments, but that modern methods, accurate surveys and title insurance have taken many of the uncertainties out of real estate transactions.

More important than these better methods and facilities, however, is the deep-seated desire to own land and have the rights thereto protecte<l. This IS a fundamental characteristic of the human race since history records.

Small wonder, then, that in the colonial days of California, the most cherished gift to be received by the political or military favorite was a choice bit of the New World. The fact that in Santa Barbara County alone thirty-six such grants, covering more than eighty j>er cent of the arable and grazing lands, were given our earliest pioneers should not only convincingly illustrate this point, but should stimulate our interest in the methods used in establishing these early ownerships which form the “bases” of so many of our titles today. In order that we may have a foundation of information as to these early titles, may 1 review for you some of the early history of our state.

We are prone to think of the exploration of California as taking place much later than that of the eastern slates. That is hardly accurate, for as fT<y the Pilgrims were struDOling to establish themselves on the bleak shores of New England, the intrepid Spanish explorers were pushing the standard

20

of Spain into every bay and valley of this Pacific country. The dauntless Cabrillo, after an extended period of exploration all up and down the coast, died and was buried on San Miguel Island in 1543, some seventy-seven years before the landing on Plymouth Rock. On December 4, 1602, Sebas tian Vascaino sailed into Santa Barbara Harbor, calling it Santa Barbara in honor of the day sacred to Saint Barbara and finding it a settlement of Indians with whom trading had been long established. You see, this was eighteen years before the founding of Plymouth.

During more than two hundred years after this the country was under the rule of Spain. Trading was developed. Santa Barbara became a regular port of entry. The Missions were established and began their remarkable growth and improvement of both spiritual and temporal things. There was no value to the land and therefore no system of private ownership. The entire life of the country centered around the Missions, which became wealthy in Hocks and herds and agricultural products. Each Mission was apportioned some 15,000 to 18,000 acres. The Santa Barbara Mission ex tended its control over all of the lands of the Goleta and the Carpinteria valleys.

As auxiliaries to the Missions to provide homes for the converted In dians and agricultural expansion of the forts and presidios, pueblos were established, with their indistinct boundaries being near the Missions and the ports, such as Monterey, Yerba Buena, Santa Barbara and San Diego.

Then came the great change. After 250 years of Spanish rule, in April, 1822, Mexican Independence was proclaimed and Spanish rule ceased. Then followed an uncertain period when Mexico was changing control from one rebellious group to the other, finally resulting in the Mexican Republic.

The new Republic soon took up the work of wresting from the Missions their wealth. The Mission at Santa Barbara at this time, 1828, shows an inventory of 40,000 cattle, 3,000 horses, 20,000 sheep and 160 oxen. In 1834 the “Regulations for the Secularizing of the Missions” were promulgated and the system of private land grants instituted. Under this system any Mexican citizen desiring a land grant would present a petition to the Provincial Gov ernor who, under the Mexican law, had authority to make grants up to eleven square leagues of 48,700 acres, approximately. These petitions were accom panied by rude maps and a statement of boundaries. The practice of furnish ing maps, however, was early discontinued. The Governor then, by marginal notes, referred the petition to some local prefect called the Infirme to ascertain the truth of the petition.

The Infirme, in turn, after verifying that the lands were not occupied and that the petitioner was not acting fraudulently, would make such nota tions on the margins that seemed appropriate to him and return the petition to the Governor. Or, if the Governor was familiar with the conditions him self, no reference to the Infirme was made and the grant was given by the Governor without payment of consideration—the formal grant being a very simple document, although wordy, describing the property in the most vague terms by natural boundaries. All papers, including the petition with its marginal notations, and a copy of the grant were then filed in the archives of the Province and the original grant was delivered to the grantee, who was presumed to enter into possession of the property. These papers in the archives constituted the evidence of title. The final step was for the Gov21

ernor to report these grants to the Territorial Assembly and have them ap proved; and with their approval, this constituted the prefect title. There being no system of recording these papers, the Governor, having other mat ters requiring his attention, seldom followed out the last step of the pro cedure. The archives were removed from one place to another and it soon was nearly impossible to ascertain where and what the legal papers were in the archives, and the grantee therefore depended entirely on the original grant stored in his elaborately bound chest to establish his title. This, in many cases, however, was impractical. The original grant would be lost, stolen, destroyed by one means or another, and as a result a greater part of the land grants depended practically on open and continuous possession claimed by the grantee.

Such was the situation when, in 1845, James K. Polk was inaugurated President of the United States. The President found that diplomatic rela tions between the United States and Mexico had been suspended, the Mexican Minister demanding his passport on account of the recent annexation of Texas. Mr. Polk’s policy was immediately announced to his Cabinet, wherein he proposed to acquire by purchase the Territory known as New Mexico and California. It is interesting to note that in Mr. Polk’s diary at this time, he made the notation that he would be willing to pay as high as S40 final settlement was reached with million for this Territory and that Mexico, whereby United States acquired the Territory for S15 million plus S3 million due American citizens. President Polk’s first move was to order General Zachary Taylor to occupy the disputed Territory which, as you know, gave rise to conflict which we term the Mexican War, during which, it is interesting for our purposes at present to note. Commodore Sloat entered Monterey Bay July 7, 1846, rais^ the flag of the United States and took possession of the Territory in the name of the United States. In his Pro clamation he declared that the rights of private ownership in property would be absolutely safeguarded and protected. This immediately gave confidence and assurance to holders of these large grants in California.

Following Commodore Sloat’s successful occupation of Monterey, Gen eral Stephen W. Kearney, after whom Kearny Street in San Francisco was named, was dispatched with a land force to conquer New Mexico. The success of the United States Army and Navy soon led to the Treaty of Guadalupe-Hidalgo, by which the entire Territory of California and New Mexico, which included the present states of California, Nevada, Utah, New Mexico and portions of Colorado and Wyoming, was sold to the United States for consideration of S15 million plus S3 million owing by the Mexican Government to private citizens of the United States.

Of course, under the rule of international law, private property rights remain undisturbed by such proceedings, but it became immediately im portant that the United States ascertain the condition and extent of private land grants in the new Territory; and accordingly, Mr. William Carrie Jones was dispatched by the Department of the Interior to investigate and report on these private land grants in California. The report, after some months’ investigation, was a very comprehensive one and listed some 593 private land grants, among which it is interesting to note that there were listed practically all the ranchos in Santa Barbara County. But this report also showed that the records in California were very incomplete. Most of 22

his information had been gathered from the records in Monterey and in the City of Mexico, and the difficulties as outlined in his report prophesied the difficult circumstances under which these titles were to be established. With this information in the hands of the President and Congress, the next step was for legislation separating the land grants from the public domain, Cali fornia having in the meantime been admitted as a state to the Union. Our two senators, John C. Fremont and William M. Gwyn, each introduced a bill for the settlement of land grants in California, and after some amend ments, Congress accepted Mr. Gwyn’s bill, which became law in 1851. It was provided in this bill that a commission of three members should be appointed, who should continue for three years, and every person holding land in California by virtue of any rights derived from Spain or Mexico was required to present the same to the Commission within two years, to gether with such documents and other evidence as the claimant relied upon in support of his claim; and all the lands not so presented and approved by the Commission within this time should be deemed part of the public domain.

The first question before this Commission arose as to the obligation on the part of these claimants to submit their claim, and in the action of Minturn vs. Bower, an early case decided by the Supreme Court of the State, it was held that these private claims were unaffected by conquest in accordance with international law and therefore there was no obligation resting upon these claimants to present and have confirmed their titles. In the case of Botiller vs. Dominguez, however, in the Supreme Court of the United States, it was held that while it was true that no private ownerships were affected by conquest, still the conquering country had the right to prescribe the procedure by which could be determined the condition and extent of these private claims and very definitely laid down the rule that Congress had the right to provide for this Commission on private land claims. This case was later confirmed by a long line of decisions and became the rule of the

land.

The next question before the Commission was as to the evidence which they would require in order to confirm these claims. You will recall the more or less hopeless condition in which the records were found and the fact that many of the claimants had lost the actual formal grants under which they were claiming. This made it necessary continually to rely upon the possessory rights of the parties which, of course, was difficult to establish.

Added to this was the Great Fire of San Francisco in 1851 which destroyed a great number of the old archives. The Commission continued for some five years and approved 541 claims which, taken with a few others, settled by the Suj>reme Court on appeal from the Commission, finally confirmed 604 claims in the state. All of the ranchos shown on our present County map were confirmed, together with one other not shown, Los Prietos, a total of some nine million acres or more than 150 square miles, leaving the rest of the County which was thought of little value for the public domain.

Patent was issued on presentation of approval by the Commission, accom panied by a survey. This latter requirement led to a great many difficulties and delays and it was some four years after the approval of these claims before patents were finally issued, because of the difficulties in description.

Up to this time there had been no surveyor in the entire Territory, so 23

far as the records show, and the boundary lines were indefinitely determined, such as, “to the top of the mountain,” “as far as a horseman could ride in one day,” and references to natural boundaries. The Surveyor General finally made surveys and compromised lines which were accepted by the grantee and filed with the application for patent. These patents appear now in our Hall of Records and each patent issued contains a map and the Surveyor General’s notes.

Another early grant was given that differs slightly from the rancho grants, and this was to the Pueblo of Santa Barbara. The system prevailed that these pueblos, in order to support discharged soldiers and those on ac tive duty in the Presidio, were granted by the Mexican Governments tracts of land which they could use as public grazing grounds and building sites.

The grant to the Pueblo of Santa Barbara extended from the Goleta Ranch eastward to the Rincon Rancho. Anyone joining the Pueblo and paying a fee corresponding to an initation fee of six dollars could have allotted to him a building site. These grants were given always with the express condi tion that the grantee build a house and fence the site within one year. The ea rly map of Santa Barbara made by Vitus Wackenreuder shows the irreg ular manner in which these small house plots were developed, locations de pending upon the topography of the land or its fertility rather than follow ing any organized system. At this time, of course, there were no regular streets laid out, but Mr. Wackenreuder shows how the projected streets would cross and re-cross some of these homesites. The early carelessness with which these properties were described is illustrated by the following:

TRANSLATION (Seal)

The provisional Officer for the Administration of the Maritime Customs house of Monterey, Upper California, for the years 1834-1835, A. Ramirez Figueroa. I state, und^r my signature, that I have sold my Garden, (including the enclosure, fruit trees, &c., pertaining to said garden) for the sum of $100. (which I acknowledge to have received,) to fe. A. B. Thompson. Said garden is South of the house of Carlos Ante Carrillo, a distance of 70 varas, a little more or less. The length of said garden is 200 varas, a little more or less & the width is 70 varas, more or less, and witness my hand, at Santa Barbara the 26 of November of 1835.

(Signed) Ysabel Yorba.

Witness Anto Rodriguez.

Recorded April 27, 1868, in Book F. of Deeds, page 575, Santa Barbara County Records.

(This is the present location of the Little Town Club property on Carrillo Street).

TRANSLATION Francisco Vadilla.

At a meeting held on the 12th day of February, 1850, Francisco Vadillo appeared in person and asked that the Board of Alderman recognize his claim to the land upon which his house and garden are situated, as also that tract of land lying to the S. W. granted by the same Board of Aldermen which lands are of a rectangular shape thirty six varas front and ninety six varas deep, and having proven his possession certain, the Honorable Board of Aldermen recognized his claim as legal and ordered that the title papers be issued to him accordingly.

Santa Barbara, Feb’y 12-1850.

Ant.Ma.DelaGuerra, Acting Secretary (rubric.)

Book of “Solares 7 Terrenos de Labranza” page 23, Santa Barbara County Records.

24

TRANSLATION The citizen Joaquin Carrillo, Prefect of the District and President of our Town Councel of Santa Barbara. Eugenio Garcia, a citizen has solicited by representation made before us in the present session, he who is recognized as the legitimate owner of a lo cation of 33 varas long and forty deep, the same which has been conceded in the time of the United Government of California, so that he shall make himself a house (as in fact he already has done), and having proved fully for certain that which he states, we have decided to recognize him as the legitimate owner of the location mentioned and so that no one will bother him or bring suit on the possession of the stated ground, we give him this so that in all times he can defend his rights as legitimate owner of the said ground, and wc order that he refer to the same in the corresponding book.

J. Carrillo Ant. Ma. de la Guerra,

R. Srio.

Refer to page 34 of the respective book, Feb. 20, 1850.

Recorded September 22, 1858, in Book A of Miscellaneous Records, page 104, Santa Barbara County Records.

TRANSLATION Whereas Pedro C. Carrillo, an inhabitant of this Town, has petitioned for his bene fit 50 varas of land between the garden of A. B. Thompson and the lot of Albert Pack ard and no inconvenience will result from the granting of said petition, according to information of the special commission of uncultivated lands.

Now, by virtue of the powers to convey conferred on me by the regulations of the Department of the Interior, I have sold to Pedro C. Carrillo the said 50 varas square of land which he petitioned for in the said place.

The Recorder viewed the lot and gave the possession to the petitioner and marked the boundaries, receiving the customary fees. All of which is set out at length, to show the reason therefor, in the proper book.

Dated at Santa Barbara the 4th day of April of 1850.

J. Carrillo Ant. Ma dela Guerra, R. Srio, Anastacio Carrillo, Recorder Attorney of the Illustrious Town Council of this Town, April 30lh, 1850. Refer to page 56. I certify that on this 30th day of April, 1850, I went over with the interested party, the paragrapli that is before this title and being with the witnesses who below sign, I took a cord of 25 varas and measured the 50 varas which have been conceded toward the S. E. (This being at hand) whose ground remained square, said interested party con formed with the measurement, took possession peacefully, and paid the customary fees, and so that this will be of value to him, I sign the same.

Anastacio Carrillo Testigo Juan Carrillo, Testigo Estevan Ortega.

Recorded August 14, 1860 in Book C of Deeds, pages 485-6, Santa Barbara County Records.

When the present town of Santa Barbara was surveyed, the starting point from which measurements were made was the intersection of State and Carrillo Streets and the survey was carried north as far as Mission Street and south to the beach. In the measurements of each block, the sur veying equipment was such that the rawhide measuring lines affected as they were by the weather, as well as the inaccuracy of their users, accumulated 25

a surplus above the theoretical 450 feet in each block and this surplus in creased as the errors were carried forward until w’e find at present that mod ern surveying discovers an excess in each block ranging from a small amount to as much as six feet; and these excesses, of course, are a constant prob lem in conveying by meets and bounds properties within the original city.

Soon after the American occupation, the confirmation of the Pueblo lands grant was made by patent recorded in Vol. “A” of Patents on Page 91 here in; all the Pueblo lands were patented to the City of Santa Barbara. Later it became profitable for the Pueblo, instead of granting these homesteads to its members, to sell certain portions for cash. In this way the entire Pueblo Grant has been sold and now forms our finest Montecito residence district, and the farm lands and subdivisions of Carpinteria and Goleta valleys.

The old California names are fast disappearing from our records. The old records have given place to the more accurate surveys and the more accurate system of photographic recording, and so “the old order changeth, giving place to the new.”

Ed Borein and His Fellow Artists

By Edward S. Spaulding John Gamble came to Santa Barbara in 1907 as a relatively young man and, almost at once, he established himself as a painter of the California wildflowers in oils. His reputation quickly spread far beyond the limits of this community. Though hillsides of California poppies absorbed much of his attention and were the cause of much of his fame, he painted all the other wildflowers that grew in great masses and carpets—lupine, ceanothus, owl’s clover, pearly everlasting, buckwheat, and the rest—with equal skill and effectiveness. His first studio was located above the Morning Press offices, in the 800 block on State Street. Later, John moved to larger quarters on the ground floor on East Canon Perdido Street.

Edward Borein came to Santa Barbara almost a decade and a half later, in 1921; and he at once established himself in a studio on the De la Guerra Plaza. At first, he confined himself to etching the western scene from Mon tana through California and Arizona to Old Mexico. Because Ed had grown up on a California ranch and at an early age had become a so-called “cow boy,” his knowledge of cattle and horses was intimate and at first hand. His skill as a draughtsman was extraordinary. Some of his best known etchings were of cowhands and of Indians in violent motion; but this was true of only a part of his work. The other and, perhaps, the larger part portrayed men riding, erect in their saddles, at more sedate paces through typically picturesque, western country. He drew, also, the California Missions and the dwellings of the Pueblo Indians. Latterly, Ed took up watercolor, and through this medium he attracted to himself a host of new friends and admirers. His reputation, also, became state wide and nation wide.

As one saw these two well known and much loved painters going about their vocations on the streets of Santa Barbara and in their studios, they seemed to have little in common. Actually, they had much in common and they became fast friends. They were often in each other’s studios. Both 26

loved the out-of-doors, and both possessed to an extraordinary degree the ability to put down on canvass and paper accurately and with compelling charm the colors that they found in their chosen fields. For John, it was the deep greens, the oranges, the blues, the odd shades of red and pink and the whites of the flower fields and the sky above them; and for Ed, it was the sage greens, the grays, and the browns of the semi-desert.

So deep was the respect with which each of these gifted artists held the work of the other, and so strong was their friendship, with no sense of rivalry whatever between them, that, at a time shortly before Ed’s sudden death, they agreed between themselves to work jointly on a painting. John was to do the landscape, a slightly sloping hillside such as John liked best, that was orange Avith poppies; and Ed was to do the horseman in the center.

John finished his part of the picture, leaving the center portion unpainted; but, most unfortunately for those of us who admired the work of both men, Ed died before he had sketched in the horseman.

The inscription under the bucking horse, which is shown on the op posite page, is typical of Ed and is heart warming to all of us who knew him and who loved him for the whimsically humorous man that he was: “Done with a stick for John Gamble by Edward Borein.” The horse and the rider, too, are typical of much of Ed’s best work. We are proud to reproduce this picture for the first time in this Autumn issue of Noticias.

Carl Oscar Borg was a colorist, expressing himself as a modern master of this school of painting both in watercolor and in oil. Living on the Mesa, as he did, almost next door to Edward Borein, he soon came to be on inti-

mate terms of friendship with the famous, cowboy artist. On one occasion, the two men took an extended trip through the Southwest together, sketch ing and painting the same scene oftentimes from stations only a. few feet apart. (I have a picture by Borg in oil done on this trip of the square struc ture that appears in the Borein etching entitled “The Last House at Walpi.”)

Each man profoundly influenced the work of the other. Borg took to paint ing the western scene and even to making an occasional etching after he met Borein; and Borein, who was beginning to experiment with watercolor at this time, profited greatly by watching the way in which the experienced Borg spread his watercolor on paper. The Borg watercolor of a fiesta party

W/r>y

at the Mission reproduced on Page 27 of this issue of Noticias is typical of much of the work done in Santa Barbara after Borg took up his residence hero and after he became intimate with Borein. The white horse that appears in the right center of this picture was used so frequently in Borg’s western pictures that it came to be regarded almost in the nature of a second signature.

Toward the latter end of Ed’s life, the artist, William Bagdatopoulis, painted a large, almost life-sized portrait of him, cowboy hat, leather coat, and all. After this strikingly lifelike picture was framed, Mrs. Borein hung it on the wall of the entrance hall of their home. Placing a small table below the picture and going into her garden, she picked a few roses and arranged them as a boquet in a vase on the table. When Ed came home, he looked not so much at the portrait as at the roses, Who in Hell di dthat!

he exclaimed.

Going out to the barranca that was nearby, he collected a large handful of scraggly, desiccated stems and sprays of sage and other spiney growths and returned to the house and to his portrait. Throwing the roses into the waste basket, he thrust his collection of sticks and stems into the vase and stepped back to survey his handiwork.

There!” he said with evident satisfaction to his amused wife. “That looks more like me!”

Curiously enough, it did.

Horseback Days

By Alice Day McLaren Perhaps there would have been less horseback riding back in the nineties if the roads around Santa Barbara had not been ankle deep with mud in the winter and dust in the summer but, whatever the cause, it was a favorite form of locomotion. Many children rode to school, and a long row of horses was tied to a hilching-rail in the schoolyards. Many ranchers and farmers rode in from the country to transact their business, and even some doctors substituted a horse for a gig in bad weather. Everyone who could afford it had a family horse, or more properly speaking a carriage horse, although many of them were also broken to the saddle. The Edwardses even had a horse whose first name was “Family,” and later, when automobiles appeared, I knew one named “Hay-motor.” I also knew Bob and Don and Fanny and Bess. Our own steed was called Selim although, except for his curved nose, there was nothing of the Arab about him. He was a whimsical per sonality, especially with us children, and was skilled in avoiding being caught and harnessed and backed into the shafts. Many a time he gave us the great horselaugh. He was broken to the saddle but he had many serious family duties to attend to, so we seldom had an opportunity to ride him.

Most of my early horseback days were spent riding double behind Amy Broome, who had a small but gay-spirited horse named Shrimp. Shrimp was 29

also trained to the harness and Amy drove him in a two-wheeled cart when we were very young, and later in a high four-wheeled vehicle known as the chariot. One year, just before Christmas, Amy and I in the chariot escorted by my brother on Selim and our neighbor, Willie Gregory, on the Gregory family animal, went on an excursion uj) to the Mountain Drive to gather holly with which to “deck our halls.” We found plenty of holly but poor little Shrimp was exhausted by the long pull up hill. So we let out the buckles on his harness and hitched Selim to the chariot to take us home. It was getting cold and a little dark by the time all these arrangements were made. Selim forgot that he was fundamentally a carriage horse and re sponsible for the chariot and broke into a wild gallop, with Amy and Willie following happily behind. Whether he was inspired by an excess of Christ mas spirit or visions of oats and a warm barn I wouldn’t know but never before was Sycamore Canyon negotiated at such speed as we hurtled around curves and through chuckholes at full gallop in truly horseback style.

Much of the recreation of young people centered around horseback rid ing—picnics, “beach-teas,” and moonlight rides. Much love-making took place and even engagements were brought about on our romantic trails. In this horse-loving atmosphere, polo became extremely jx)pular. The young man who owned or could borrow a pony or two played the game and the rest of us would either ride or drive to the matches at our field west of town.

There was some pretty skillful, not to say reckless, riding among our western players. Someone asked Ernest Wickcnden, a really spectacular rider from one of our neighboring ranches, “Ernest, where did you learn to play polo?”

“With a cow on the end of a rope,” was his answer.

One of our favorite excursions was out to Sheppard’s Inn at the foot of the Casitas Pass for a dinner of fried chicken and strawberries, for which the Sheppards were famous. It was a longish trek, so we would ride out in the afternoon and dawdle home by moonlight. One night a young couple, Reggie and Peggy, were riding along under the benign influence of the moon when Reggie said dreamily, “Peggy, if I had a millon dollars, do you know what I would do?” Peggy, slightly breathless, thinking that Reggie was going to say that he would venture to ask her to marry him, managed to ask: “No, Reggie, what ivould you do?” Still dreamily, Reggie answered, “I’d buy a string of polo ponies that would reach all the way from here to Ortega Hill.” Profound disappointment on Peggy’s part, but she remembered the incident with amusement a half a century later.

Camping trips on horseback were very popular among the young peo ple, especially the boys, and deer hunting over at Big Pine was an exhilarat ing experience. 1 never went to Big Pine, but my husband, Bill, and I once went on a three day fishing trip over the Cold Spring trail to the headwa ters of Gibraltar Dam. We had a guide from Montecito named Romero who furnished the saddle horses, one pack animal, and a small non-descript mon grel named Montecito hut called Mangey for short. The jaunt was highly successful, magnificent scenery, good camp fare, and plenty of trout; but on the way home Mangey got sore feet from the hot trail and lagged farther and farther behind, limping sadly. Romero and the pack animal were heavily loaded, so Bill and I took turns carrying Mangey in front of us on our saddles. He was a wonderful rider. He just dug in his nails and clung 30

on for the balance of the trip. Well,” I said when we delivered him safely home, “this is the only place I know where even the dogs are good horse men.”

Along about 1904 the Stewart Edward Whites took their honey moon trip back into the High Sierras and when Bill and I were married a few years later, we were inspired by this romantic example, which we emulated in a small way. After our wedding we rode up to a little resort above Painted Cave, and the next day went on to Mattei’s Tavern where we were met by our luggage and a man to take our horses back to Santa Barbara. We proceeded from the mountain top by a trail which was a short cut and, when we had nearly reached the San Marcos Pass again, I noticed that the small bundle containing my nightclothes and toilet articles was missing from my saddle. “Oh, let’s not go back to look for it,’ Bill said. “It’s lost in the brush and no one will ever find it.” I wasn’t so confident and, sure enough, when we reached Santa Barbara the following day the small parcel, picked up by a mountain ranger, was already there. So was the story and the town rocked with joy. There was something inexpressibly funny in those modest days about a bride losing her wedding garments—not quite on her wedding night, but almost. Although some fifty-four years have elapsed since that episode, I am sure that there are still people here who remember it with amusement.

At the jjresent, speed seems to dominate most out-of-door recreation with the airplane, the motor-boat, the automobile, golf-carts and ski-runs.

But I venture to hope that occasionally someone tastes the joy of a good old-fashioned (old-fashioned as an adjective, not a noun) leisurely horse back ride.

Director's Report The Golden Trail of History, a walking and motor tour of El Pueblo Viejo and other historic areas of Santa Barbara—under consideration for years is at last a reality. Brochures with maps of the tours and signs placed around the town designating the historic landmarks were in readiness for the b’iesta.

Although this civic project was sponsored by th Chamber of Commerce, The Santa Babrara Historical Society, Plans and Planting Association and many other organizations, it came into being through the leadership of Mr. D. W. Hutchinson of the Retail Merchant’s Association and Mr. Richard Smith of the News-Press. Your director wishes to congratulate Bill and Dick and their committee.

The Projects Committee of The Santa Barbara Historical Society is to be congratulated on the success of the Casa Tour on Sunday, August 6th, 1961.

As a result of the enactment of “El Pueblo Viejo” ordinance by the City Council, creating an area of 16 blocks in the original center of Santa Bar bara, it became evident that many historic adobes, which were permanently preserved and surrounded by land with inflated values, were in need of tax relief and adjustment.

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On January 25, 1961, Senate Constitutional Amendment No. 12 was introduced by Senators Albert Rodda and J. J. Hollister, Jr. This bill was sponsored by The Santa Barbara Historical Society and the Conference of California Historical Societies under the chairmanship of Walter Frame of Sacramento. It was written to give tax relief and adjustment to historic build ings of significance that are permanently preserv^ by ordinance, such as El Pueblo Viejo. The amendment was passed 67 to 1 at the last Legislature and will be presented to the people of California at the next election in 1962.

GIFTS A painting of the ship “Queen Victoria” was presented to the society by anonymous friends in June of this year. This ship was built by Johnson Rideout in 1838 at Bath, Maine for Captain Wildes T. Thompson, brother of Captain Francis Thompson of Dana’s “Two Years Before the Mast, and Alpheus Basil Thompson, our own trader of the 1830’s and 1840’s. Named in honor of the Coronation of Queen Victoria, it was used in the cotton trade around the Horn in 1849 and visited Santa Barbara, arriving in San Fran cisco in December, 1849. With the gift of this fine ship portrait by an unkno^vn artist, we add the name of another brother to our large and varied collection of Thompsoniana.

From Mr. Horace A. Sexton: Cold glasses and case belonging to Isaac Giles Foster, 1840; gold glasses belonging to Roxanna Foster, 1899; budding knife used by Joseph Sexton, Sr.; a Wells-Fargo padlock used in the Sexton Nursery at Goleta as a lock for the cookhouse for the Chinese in the pampas bloom picking season, 1880-1900.

From Mr. and Mrs. John Murray Forbes: A copy of a painting of an ancestor and miscellaneous memorabilia.

From Mr. Harold S. Chase: 1958 Directory of Santa Barbara and “History of Baja, California”.

From Mrs. Eileen Dismuke: Reproductions of Commandante Goycoechea docu ments of the Presidio of Santa Barbara, which are of value and interest to the Society.

From Mr. and Mrs. Russell Ruiz; Watercolors of the Missions of Santa Barbara and San Buenaventura as they appeared in 1835; pen and ink drawings of Cienagitas Chapel on Modoc Road 1815 and the San Marcos Assislencia or Chapel, 1820.

From Miss Pearl Chase: Los Angeles Blue Books.

From Mr. Max C. Richter; Numerous books and pamphlets.

From Mrs. Anton Hegeman: Donation to the Fernald House of an antique fire place set which had belonged to her family.

From Miss Minerva Cross: Her mother’s handmade bedspread and shawl.

From Mrs. Perry Austin; A manuscript by Charles Frederick Holder.

Mrs. Mrs. Thomas Bard: “The Government Survey Book,” 1904.

From Mrs. McKinley Helm: Chinese Mandarin coats.

From Mrs. Walter White: Antique tortoise shell earrings in memory of Josefa De la Guerra Savin.

From Mrs. Arnold Mountfort: Memorial poem to her husband, Arnold G. Mountfort, and an old Chinese abacus.

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From Mrs. C. W. Sponsel: Antique furniture.

From William C. Kurfess: Photographs.

From Mrs. Bertie cle L’Arbre: Quilt and period clothing.

From Mr. and Mrs. Hugh Weldon: Early programs and records.

From Miss Frances Hamill: Watercolor of Santa Barbara Mission by H. C. Ford.

From Mrs. Joseph Wheelwright; Portrait of her mother by Dudley S. Carpenter.

From Mrs. Henry Profant: Photograph of Miss Florence Femald.

From Mrs. Melville Sahyun: Translation of a Spanish document.

From Miss Eva Sauter: Architectural drawings of Roland Sauter.

From Mrs. Sanford Gifford: Antique dress.

From Miss Maud Lane; Quarterly of Ohio Stale Historical Society; black satin skirt and jacket.

From Mrs. Philip W. Roberts: Needlework Guild of America Scrap Book.

From Miss Janet B. Turpin: Pamphlets.

The Library Committee wishes to remind society members and friends that donations and gifts of historical value, including books and papers on California. Western or Spanish Colonial histories, documents, letters and pamphlets can be valued and claimed as charitable contributions against your income tax. There is an increasing number of inquiries for the use of gen ealogical books and histories.

W. Edwin Gledhill Museum Director

Activity Report—Women's Projects Board

By WiLBERTA M. Finley Ten houses of historic interest were opened to the public on Sunday, August 6, from 1 to 5 p.m., through the co-operation of the owners with the Women’s Projects Board of the Santa Barbara Historical Society.

This was the second annual Casa Tour to be sponsored by this group, and proceeds of the event will be used to continue plans for restoring and maintaining the Fernald Mouse and the Trussell-Winchester Adobe at 412 and 414 West Montecito Street.

Plans are underway for landscaping the grounds, with John H. Hartfeld —landscape architect and a former Park Superintendent of the City of Santa Barbara—in charge of creating a master plan for the development of this project. A part of the proceeds from the Casa Tour will be used for the pur pose of preparing and planting the garden.

The majority of the homes which were opened to visitors are privately owned, and therefore are not to be seen at other times. The tour attracted over 300 people—many from out of town, and as far away as Puerto Rico!

The itinerary included Casa Caneda (Mr. and Mrs. Elmer Whittaker, own ers); the Madonna Collection, Alhecama Center (Mrs. Alice F. Schott); La Caseria, Hollister Hill (Dr. and Mrs. Clinton B. Hollister, and the late J ames J. Hollister); the former studio of the late Dudley Carpenter, artist (Mr. and Mrs. Adolf C. Pedotti, owners); Casa Ramirez (Mrs. A. L. Murphy Vhay, owner); Pro-America House (Mr. and Mrs. Elmer Whittaker, own33

ers ; the Hunt-Stambach House (Assistance League of Santa Barbara); Trussell-Winchester Adobe and Fernald House (Santa Barbara Historical Society). To all of these people we wish to extend our sincere gratitude for their kindness and hospitality, and for their generosity which made the Casa Tour a success.

Mrs. Gene M. Harris, chairman of the Women’s Projects Board was assisted by Mrs. Wilson Forbes, general chairman, and Mrs. James N. Dazey, treasurer. Mrs. Alex Funke was in charge of arranging for houses to be vis ited, and for obtaining the loan of Victorian costumes which were on view in the Fernald House, from the Santa Barbara Art Museum collection; Mrs. Bertie De I’Arbre created the manikins on which these charming gowns were displayed. Other chairmen, assisted by the members of their committees, were: Mmes. John H. Locklin, refreshments; Hamilton Greenough, flowers and table settings; George H. Finley, grounds; Timothy McMahon, publicity.

A special word of appreciation also, to the various news media through which the Casa Tour received publicity: the Santa Barbara News-Press, Los Angeles Times, Gazette-Citizen of Goleta, This Week in Santa Barbara, KDB, KTMS, and KEY-TV. The Board has continued to keep the Fernald House and Adobe open to visitors each Sunday afternoon from 2 to 5 p.m. and the regular hosts and hostesses, recruited from the Society membership as well as the Women’s Projects Board, have been assisted ably by Girl Scouts, as a special project of the junior high planning board, with Mrs. J. B. Simmons as advisor. Their help in guiding visitors has been invaluable on busy days, and the Board is very grateful to the young ladies who gave up their personal hours to par ticipate in this community project. The Casa Tour ended their obligation for service, but we look forward to having the girls with us at a future time.

Among the many visitors to the two historic homes of recent weeks, have been two separate families by the name of Fernald, who, though claiming no relationship, were drawn to Santa Barbara by their interest in the name, “Fernald House”. Another guest was the nurse who had ministered to Mrs. Charles Fernald during her last days in 1929. We who were “staff ing” that day, gleaned many helpful details from her memories of the orig inal hostess.

September 3, Labor Day weekend, brought many out-of-town guests, some from San Francisco, Santa Fe, N.M., Los Angeles, Long Beach, and San Diego. We were especially pleased to have Mr. and Mrs. James E. Read ing of San Diego as visitors. They were taking a “busman’s holiday”, for he is president of the San Diego Historical Society and president of the Historical Shrine Foundation, while his wife, June Reading is Director of the old Whaley House, and a member of the San Diego Historical Society Board of Directors. The problems involved in the restoration of the Fernald House and the Trussell-Winchester Adobe were of sj^cial interest to them, as the Whaley House (the oldest brick house to be built in San Diego) is of similar historic importance in their city.

From La Paz, Baja California, came two ladies -sisters descended from the Cota, Castro and del Castillo families who settled there in the early days of the founding of the peninsula. Great was their pleasure when they were 34

welcomed into the Fernald House by hostess Mrs. John Locklin (a descend ant of Captain Jose Francisco Ortega), who addressed them in fluent Spanish.

The Women’s Projects Board extends a cordial welcome to all to visit the two homes on a Sunday afternoon, and suggests that you bring your friends—for a delightful step back into the 19th Century.

New Members ACTIVE Mrs. Henry Albrecht Mrs. W. A. Birss Mrs. Edward Bozenhard Mrs. Joseph Bradley Mrs. Enid P. Brock Miss Mary Chrisman Mr. Roger M. Gildersleeve Mr. and Mrs. Charles P. Harper Mrs. Will G. Kelley Mrs. Timothy McMahon Mrs. Ray Paine Mr. and Mrs. George E. Tomlinson Mrs. Robert W. Rivers Mrs. Joseph Sexton, III Mrs. Marie Phelps Sweet SUSTAINING Mr. and Mrs. W. H. Cooper, Jr. Mr. John F. Fleming CONTRIBUTING Mr. and Mrs. Frank Arguelles Mr. Alfred H. Howell Mr. and Mrs. Jefferson Jones

IN MEMORIAM Mr. James J. Hollister Mr. Willard Powner Mrs. C. L. Vivian Mrs. Stuart Wing Mr. Allen E. Rogers

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SANTA BARBARA HISTORICAL SOCIETY OFFICERS AND DIRECTORS 19 6 1

OFFICERS President

Dr. Hilmar 0. Koefod

First Vice President

Don W. Woods

Second Vice President

Mrs. Robert Ingle Hoyt

Secretary

Paul G. Sweetser

Treasurer

Mrs. Henry Griffiths

Past President

Thomas J. McDermott

DIRECTORS Mrs. Charles H. Cannon

Mrs. E. F. Menzies

Mrs. Wilson Forbes

Edward S. Spaulding

John Galvin

Hugh J. Weldon

W. Edwin Gledhill

Elmer H. Whittaker

Rev. Basil Kelly, O.F.M.

Dr. Irving Wills

W. Edwin Gledhill Mrs. W. Edwin Gledhill Edward Selden Spaulding

Museum Director Curator Editor-in-Chief

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