Y’all know I’m partial to our Lady of Guadalupe, aka Now we’ve already seen in the Joseph Chapman posts and the facts about Miguel Blanco that they built the Guadalupe (probably named after Chapman’s wife, Maria de Guadalupe Ortega) out of the remains of the brig, Danube, which ran aground in a storm on Christmas Eve, 1828. The vessel was built for the padres of the San Gabriel Mission to be used for sea otter hunting off Catalina Island (probably through other parties). Some reports indicate that the schooner was put together at Goleta Point in 1830. And we know that White sailed the Guadalupe to Mazatlan and returned in 1832 and married Rosaria shortly after that.
Here’s what the sign at the mission says about it:
"Historic Anchor
Anchor of the 99-ton top-sail schooner, “Guadalupe” built here in 1830 by Joseph Chapman Michael White Thomas Paine and Mission Indians. Dismantled, she was hauled to the roadstead of San Pedro on carretas (carts) re-assembled and launched… the first ship in California from native materials [you’ve got to count the remains of another ship as “native materials”]
In 1831 Don Miguel Blanco, Master, sailed her to Mazatlan and San Blas Mexico with mission goods.
Mission blacksmiths have since melted and cut off pieces of the anchor to made hinges, hoes, nails and other such articles."
Can you believe what a huge undertaking salvaging, re-building, transporting, re-building again, and then sailing the ship must’ve been? It makes me tired thinking about it. I haven’t been able to find and drawings of the “Guadalupe,” but this one is similar. It was called the McLane and she was a little smaller – 73 tons rather than 99 tons, and a Yankee ship, not a Spanish one, but the idea’s the same: a top-sail schooner made of wood in the Age of Sail.
Spending more time at the Michael White Adobe has me thinkin' about lots of stuff, and one of the things that I think about is how to tell the story of his life in such a way that kids don't think that it's an advanced form of torture. Plus, it's an exciting true story with a lot of action and adventure - it doesn't "need" to be boring!
For example, at the age of 13 (around 1815), our boy, Michael Claringbud White was apprenticed on a whaling ship, the "Perseverance." So you can see why he eventually changed his name to Miguel Maria Blanco - he was provoked!
In 1817, he was stranded in San Jose del Cabo, in Baja, which is a story I'd like to know more about. And then, from 1817 to 1829 he made several trips between the Sandwich Islands (Hawaii) and California.
The song "Rollin' Down to Old Maui" is a real oldie about whalers dividing their time between hard duty on the Kamchatka Sea and the relatively good times they had in Hawaii. The song has been changed over the years, and some versions are more PG-13 than others. The earliest written version (that anyone knows about) dates from 1858 and it is tempting to think of Michael White, Joseph Chapman, and other whalemen singing a precursor to the song we know now.
Don't get me wrong - I think killing whales is completely barbaric and I don't condone it for any reason any more than I'd give a thumbs up to slavery. Historic wrong is still wrong. But you do have to understand the context and Michael White killed whales in an era when whale oil was used for all sorts of stuff like petroleum oil is today.
Here's a nice a cappella version performed by Blue of a Kind. I tend to like it at double time with musical accompaniment, but this one had the cleanest recording and no camera work that mimicked being on the high seas during a storm. Personally, I like a cover of this ol' chanty done by a bunch of scurvy dogs called the "Poxy Boggarts" from a CD of theirs called "Lager Than Life", which contains some fun drinking songs and such. I sing it myself with much gusto in the shower. . .
It's a damned tough life, full of toil and strife
We whalermen undergo.
And we don't give a damn when the gale has stopped
How hard the wind did blow.
We're homeward bound! 'Tis a grand old sound
On a good ship taut and free,
And we don't give a damn when we drink our rum
With the girls on old Maui.
Rolling down to old Maui, my boys,
Rolling down to old Maui.
We're homeward bound from the arctic ground
Rolling home to old Maui.
Once more we sail with a northerly gale
Through the ice and sleet and rain.
And them coconut fronds in them tropic lands
We soon shall see again.
Six hellish months we've passed away
In the cold Kamchatka sea,
And now we're bound from the arctic ground,
Rolling down to old Maui.
We'll heave the lead where old Diamondhead
Looms up on old Wahoo.
Our mast and yards are sheathed with ice
And our decks are hid from view.
The horrid tiles of the sea-cut ice
That deck the Arctic Sea
Are miles behind in the frozen wind
Since we steered for old Maui.
How soft the breeze of the tropic seas
Now the ice is far astern,
And them native maids in them island glades
Are awaiting our return.
Even now their big black eyes look out
Hoping some fine day to see
Our baggy sails running 'fore the gales
Rolling down to old Maui.
And now we sail with a favoring gale
Towards our island home.
Our mainmast sprung, our whaling done,
And we ain't got far to roam.
Our stuns'l booms are carried away
What care we for that sound?
A living gale is after us,
Thank God we're homeward bound!
If you haven't read this book, it is absolutely the best account I know of about the hardships faced by whaling crews. It has it all: vengeful whales, shipwrecks, cannibalism, unlucky sea captains, psychotic first mates... And it's a true story.
Well, Folks, I just want to take a few moments to thank all of you who pitched in to help save the Miguel Blanco Adobe. At least, for now, it isn't going under the 'dozer. I had a meeting with San Marino's beloved (13 years) ex-mayor, Eugene Dryden a couple days ago. He's a great guy who's committed to the cause and is someone who makes things happen. Tonight I attended a meeting of the "Friends of the Michael White Adobe" committee to figure out how to proceed. We talked about motivating students to participate in the process. This is a favorite cause of mine because I figure if you can get kids interested in the textbook known as the past, y'all can keep 'em interested in making the future a place we might all wanna live in. This idea was brought to the table by Dr. Gary Woods, Superintendant of San Marino City School District. A big shout out for that. Any guy who has a nine foot bear in his office is okay by me. No, he didn't shoot it, he received it as a gift and spruced it up so kids could see how big a grizzly really is. More on that later. Dr. Woods thinks 'kid's first' and 'How can the kids use this to learn?' with everything he comes in contact with and that, folks, is a good thing. In fact everyone (almost) that I've had a chance to palaver with from San Marino seems to be very pro-active where it comes to educating and enriching the experiences of the kids. Awesome! Now I know that getting the adobe polished up is gonna take time and, well, money. Here's the deal, soon, there's gonna be a way that anyone that wants to put up a couple bucks to help save a California landmark and teach kids a little bit more about our rich California history at the same time, can do so. I'll keep you posted. Also, you may have noticed that there is a counter we put in to find out how many people are checkin' up on me. . . Believe me, the more the merrier. Anyhow, Thanks so much for your support. Video is coming. C U soon. Jake
Last week, I was cruising up Highway 74 from Palm Desert up to Anza in the San Jacinto wilderness area and met a new plant, the Ribbonwood. According to Neltje Blanchan’s Wild Flowers Worth Knowing (1917, 1922), Adenostoma sparsifolium aka Redshank, Ribbon bush, or Ribbonwood, “is a multi-trunked tree or shrub native to dry slopes or chaparral
of Southern California and northern Baja California. Shaggy falling shanks or ribbons of bark are one of the strongest characteristics of the tree, hence the common names. Redshanks are closely related to the more abundant Chamise (Adenostoma fasciculatum).” It is also a member of the rose family, and a darned attractive chaparral plant.
About this time of year, I get all sentimental and think back on what has come before. Then I start lookin' at old photos and before you know it, I feel compelled to post stuff that might not be strictly up-to-date. Case in point: "Night of the Red Drum" is a painting I made about 10 years ago just before Halloween. And at about the same time, I posed for this panoramic photo in Big Tujunga Canyon (and I haven't seen if this part is still there post-Station Fire, I hope so) with nine of my brothers - see if you can tell which one is me.
First, we're happy to announce that the team has identified and fixed the issue with the YouTube conduit; you can now find and add videos from YouTube to your library and posts. As always, thanks for your patience!
The other news we have today is about a new addition to the Six Apart family: TypePad Micro, a new free level of TypePad that is streamlined for microblogging. We see a new form of blogging emerging that lives between the quick status updates of Twitter and Facebook and the long-form posts of "classic" blogging; TypePad Micro is designed to meet that need. You can read more about TypePad Micro in Chris Alden's post on the Everything TypePad blog.
A lot of the new capabilities we've added to TypePad this year were actually inspired by some of the best things about Vox: favoriting, member profiles, a dashboard to follow other bloggers, and easy ways to post content from other social media sites. But the things that make Vox different from TypePad are still there: Vox has always been -- and still is -- the best place for "friends and family" blogging, where you're in control over who sees what. TypePad, on the other hand, is built for the blogger who wants, no, craves, attention.
Do you have a passion or interest you want to share with people beyond your Vox neighborhood? If so, we'd love it if you tried out TypePad Micro. Maybe you've always wanted to start that obsessive blog that's just about waffle restaurants. Or want a place to share videos of your favorite band (Jonas Brothers, anyone? Anyone? ...). TypePad Micro's great for those topic-specific blogs. Take it for a spin and let us know what you think.
On the Vox front, our designers are working on some cool new themes (coming soon!). We'd also love to hear your thoughts about where we should take Vox in the coming year. What are the key things you'd like to see for Vox? If you've had a chance to use TypePad this year, what are the features there that we should bring over to Vox? And, if you're thinking big thoughts, how could we connect the Vox and TypePad communities in order to bring together bloggers and their shared passions? Your feedback is really important to us, so please leave a comment here, or shoot me a message.
And again, thanks for your patience as we found and fixed the YouTube bug!
~ daisy
As many of you have noticed, the YouTube Conduit is not working. I am so sorry about this; I know how frustrating it is.
The team is looking into how to get this fixed and I will update you as soon as I hear something. In the meantime, not all is lost... There is a work-around for posting videos.
When you're in the Compose Screen, just click on "embed." Ignore the fact that it says "Widget" before everything because you can definitely use this to embed videos as well. You'll just need to input the embed code from the video, enter a title (if you want) and hit OK.
It might not show up perfectly in your compose screen, but when you hit "Save," your video should appear just the way you wanted it to.
Hopefully this will allow you to keep posting videos while we figure out what's happening on our end.
As always, thanks for your patience.
First off, I want to send a shout out to my new friend, Kathy Hoskins, at the Altadena Historical Society for sending over this digital newsletter.
It is so appropriate right now: Here in the foothills we're slowly coming to terms with the destruction wreaked by the Station Fire. I just discovered the remains of the Cobb Estate and lovely Flores Canyon just a few months ago, and of course, our local history is always worth mentioning: real stuff that happened to real people, just like us.
So the timing is right. And this is what some old guy (who happened to be a self-made millionaire) did when his house was in danger: he fought back.
Here's what the newsletter (which was written by Jane Brackman, Altadena Historical Society President) says: "And speaking of fires…The 1934 Brown Mountain fire scorched 3000 acres above Altadena. One year later high winds fueled a fire that burned La Vina Sanatorium to the ground. The 1935 La Vina fire blazed across the foothills from Millard Canyon to Las Flores canyon, almost destroying the home of Charles H. Cobb. His Spanish style mansion, elegantly appointed with imported exotic hardwoods, was landscaped with eucalyptus, palm trees and lodge pole pines - fuel just waiting for a fire. But the 83 year-old Cobb, with help from his 200,000 gallon reservoir was prepared for the fight.
According to the October 24, 1935 issue of the Altadena Press, “About two o’clock in the morning [Cobb] was awakened to find that not only his property, a mansion nestled against the foothills of Las Flores canyon, but his life and that of his household were endangered. Due to the water system installed on the Las Flores ranch 20 years ago, Mr. Cobb, with the aid of Andrew Anderson, was able to save all of his property with the exception of damage done to a few trees and shrubs. Mr. Cobb handled a water hose bearing 100 pounds pressure, playing it upon a blazing furnace within a few feet of his garage and other buildings, the point first threatened.”
Cobb made his fortune in lumber, starting off as a lumberjack in his home state of Maine and later Washington. Prior to retirement he served as president of International Lumber Company.
In 1916, he and his wife, Carrie, purchased a substantial part of Las Flores ranch and built their dream home in the shadow of Echo Mountain.
The newspaper article continued, “Mr. Cobb stated that he has contended for many years that the canyons and foothills above Altadena should be periodically burned off by the forestry department to eliminate dangers to property and loss of life… This statement coming from a man who has spent a lifetime in the woods is significant and deserving of careful study.”
Cobb died in 1939. About 20 years later the house was torn down due to neglect and vandalism. Cobb’s estate, at the top of Lake Avenue, is now a park managed by the U.S. Forest Service."
Sources: Altadena: Between Wilderness and City by Michele Zack (2004); Altadena’s Golden Years by Robert H. Peterson (1976); Altadena Press, October 24, 1935, p 1
Altadena Historical Society: From our Files, “Fires” September 13, 2009
Home of Carrie and Charles H. Cobb, about 1930. (Photo reprinted
from Altadena’s Golden Years by Robert Peterson, p. 37)
Altadena Historical Society 730 E. Altadena Drive, Altadena CA 91001
(626) 797-8016 altadenahistorical.society@yahoo.com
Open Monday and Tuesday 9:00 am to 12:30 pm and by appointment
Stop by for a visit
Go forth and fill your libraries with media.
Seriously, thanks to everyone for being so amazing and patient. You are the reason I love Vox.
Now folks, I ain't done with the story of the White-Blanco-de Guillen family. Not by a longshot. I keep kicking over rocks and finding out more stuff about these characters. Case in point: I was getting ready for trick-or-treaters just last night when it occurred to me that I oughtta make a memorial wreath for Dona Eulalia. It's the Day of the Dead, and it's only proper for the the living to pay their respects to those who went before. And don't you know that doing that just opened up a whole floodgate of information?
Eulalia Perez de Guillen [1768-1878] and her first husband, Miguel Antonio Guillen [?-1821], a Spanish soldier (although probably Mexican-born, as she was), are buried here in the old cemetery by the mission wall. The bench, which was a pretty fitting memorial for a lady who never had the time to sit down, was installed on May 21, 1936. Here’s what it says:
This marks the grave of EULALIA PEREZ DE GUILLEN Born at Loreto in Baja California in 1768 Died June 11, 1878 14 Years Mayordoma of San Gabriel Mission Erected by the Garfield Study Club
EULALIA PEREZ DE GUILLEN, 1768-1878
As the original llavera, or keeper of the keys, at the San Gabriel Mission, Perez de Guillen was responsible for the mission's storehouses and money room during the height of its role as a center of commerce. She managed many of the manufacturing and industrial activities of the mission and oversaw the activities of many of the Indian women there. She was also a highly regarded nurse and midwife. As compensation for her long service to the church, Perez de Guillen was deeded Rancho San Pasqual, 3 1/2 square leagues of land (about 15,400 acres), which included the original site of the city of Pasadena.
And here's that source: "Women in L.A. History The early days of Southern California were marked by women who contributed to the area's development as inventors, lawyers, authors and philanthropists." As Women's :[Home Edition]. 1994. Los Angeles Times (pre-1997 Fulltext), March 30, http://www.proquest.com.libwin2k.glendale.edu/ (accessed November 1, 2009).
And here's a longer version of this story with a lot more trauma and drama. I'd like to know where Cecilia Rasmussen got her information, but it makes for a "ripping yarn" all the same.
She was an extraordinary woman with stubborn faith who survived a major earthquake and carved out a niche as the mother of California's soft drink industry.
Eulalia Perez de Guillen contradicted the myth that the extreme hardships of the Old West guaranteed a short life. When she died in 1878, she was 110 years old.
Some 60 years before, when she oversaw the San Gabriel Mission for the Franciscan friars, Eulalia concocted a tasty beverage from the lemons growing in the area.
Demand was so great that she began bottling the beverage, and the friars sold it. Soon they were shipping bottled lemonade to Spain. It became one of Los Angeles' first exports, and an enterprise that helped fill the mission's coffers.
Although she labored ceaselessly, it was her stubborn faith in the growing Christian community that sustained the twice-married dona mayor as she struggled to quench thirsts and help turn this hard little corner of the world into another Eden.
Born in Mexico in 1768, Eulalia was 15 when she married Miguel Antonio Guillen, a young soldier. Eventually, he was transferred north. They packed up their bags and three children and headed for Mission San Juan Capistrano.
They survived a massive earthquake that shook the Great Stone Church at the mission during Mass on Dec. 8, 1812.
The roof caved in and the adobe walls collapsed. The mission bells tumbled from the tower, killing 40 people.
Eulalia, who was pregnant at the time, squeezed out of the leveled church. A few days later, she gave birth to a healthy daughter, one of her many children.
After she pleaded with her husband for years, he finally asked for a transfer, and they moved to San Gabriel around 1821. His health was poor and he soon died.
After winning a cooking contest, she was hired by the San Gabriel friars as a cook. But her duties expanded, and soon she was the manager of the mission.
Along with her daughters, she supervised cooking, sewing, nursing, soap and candle making, the winery and the olive oil presses.
Eulalia also watched over the Indian women working at the mission, and tried to keep the soldiers away from them. When her efforts didn't succeed, she delivered the babies.
It was during this time that Eulalia began brewing the lemonade that made her famous.
Eulalia was an unrelenting force behind the mission, acting as if she were a five-star general, despite her soft voice and gentle manner.
She also was a counselor who helped steer young people through the intrigues and scandals that occurred behind the pious mission facade.
For example, in the late 1820s, a beautiful, stubborn, adventurous girl, Josefa Carrillo, flirted with Bostonian Henry Delano Fitch, a sea captain.
He asked her to marry him, but her father refused to permit it. Fitch became a Catholic, but her father still opposed the match because Fitch was a foreigner.
Undaunted, the couple eloped and were married in Chile. Upon their return, they were arrested and placed in custody at the mission. Eulalia listened intently to Josefa's tearful story while the bride was imprisoned in Eulalia's room.
The padres ordered the couple to attend high Mass for three feast days while holding lighted candles and recite the rosary together for 30 consecutive days. In addition, Fitch was ordered to give a 50-pound bell to the plaza church.
In 1834, when Mexico took over the missions and secularized them, Eulalia was out of a job.
As compensation for her 14 years of service, the padres deeded her 15,400 acres of what is now Pasadena. But the friars feared that their gift wouldn't hold up in court, so they arranged a marriage between Eulalia and a younger man, Juan Marine, a domineering soldier.
He petitioned the governor for the land and was granted it.
Although Marine won the land, he lost the woman. Unwilling to live with her husband's tyrannical ways, she walked out and moved into a small adobe. It was at the southwest corner of Mission Drive and Santa Anita Street, near the mission.
Marine didn't stock the property with livestock or make improvements required by the land grant. After he died, his son sold it for a mere six horses and 10 head of cattle.
Thirty years later, the longevity of 100-year-old Eulalia was advertised around the world as due to the "healthful climate and orderly living of the far western prairies."
Capitalizing on her mother's fame as a "California curiosity," one of Eulalia's daughters accepted a $5,000 offer to put her mother on exhibit at Woodward Gardens in San Francisco for six weeks in 1876, followed by a brief stint at the Philadelphia Centennial Exposition.
Bags packed and eager to travel, Eulalia was stopped by another daughter. The dispute ended up in court, with a judge issuing an order preventing her from leaving Los Angeles.
Two years later, before her death on June 8, 1878, Eulalia was no longer able to stand. She got around by crawling. But she crawled proudly, refusing to let others carry her burden.
She is buried at the San Gabriel Mission.
And here's the citation: Cecilia Rasmussen. 1998. L.A. Then and Now / Cecilia Rasmussen; A Long, Rich Life and a Tasty Claim to Fame :[Home Edition]. Los Angeles Times, September 6, http://www.proquest.com.libwin2k.glendale.edu/ (accessed November 1, 2009).
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