William Cox was having lunch at home when he heard the whistle of his train. “Toot, toot,” it blew as the locomotive left Sebastopol bound for Santa Rosa.
As William was the train's engineer and he was clearly not aboard it, he assumed Eugene, who kept the engine stoked with wood, had received an urgent order from the California Northwestern railway station in Santa Rosa to bring the train there.
But Eugene Ellison was not in the cab either. The man with his hand on the throttle was Will Thompson, who everybody called "Brick." He was 31 years old and had never driven a train before. He was also insane.
The rest of this article can be read at the SantaRosaHistory.com website. Because of recurring problems with the Blogger platform, I am no longer wasting my time formatting and posting complete articles here. I will continue to create stubs for the sake of continuity, but will be publishing full articles only at SantaRosaHistory.com. - Jeff Elliott
It was nearly dawn when a Boy Scout jumped off his bicycle and burst into the hotel lobby with an urgent message: The building next door was on fire. At about the same time, the driver of the city street sweeper found billowing smoke in the alley behind the hotel and pulled the nearby fire alarm. It was 5AM on May 8, 1936.
Santa Rosa's Fire Department was there almost immediately with their eight year-old La France "Quad" fire truck, capable of throwing 750 gallons of water a minute. Fire Chief William Muenter saw that wouldn't be adequate so he also brought on line their older 650 gallon pumper.
Meanwhile, The New Hotel Santa Rosa was being evacuated. Although the building on the corner of Fourth and B (currently the location of the CitiBank office) was best known as Rosenberg's, the department store only occupied the street level with a mezzanine. The eighty room residential hotel took up the second and third floors, with about 65 people staying there when the fire began.
As soon as the Boy Scout with a newspaper route told night clerk Russell Sutor about the fire he roused his boss Leo Bonalanza, who lived at the hotel with his wife and two kids. Sutor began calling rooms from the switchboard to awaken guests while hotel manager Bonalanza contacted the Occidental Hotel and other places in town to accomodate their displaced residents. An elderly woman was carried to the Occidental but otherwise people gathered in the lobby still in their pajamas ("scantily clad" and "partially clad" were the terms used by our Santa Rosa newspapers).
Evacuating the hotel was precautionary - the fire was contained at first to the McDannel Building on its east side and besides, the big store-hotel was built with reinforced concrete after the 1906 earthquake and always touted as fireproof.
There were several tenants in the McDannel, most prominently a hat shop and the L. A. Drake electrical supply and paint store. Signs for those businesses can be seen in the photographs below. The fire started in the backroom of Drake's store, but the exact cause was never determined (as far as I can find). Muenter told the press he thought it might have been a wiring short circuit or spontaneous combustion from flammable dirty rags.
The sequence of events during the early part of the fire are unclear, but by the end of the first hour Chief Muenter realized his two engines weren't enough, so he reached out to Petaluma and Guerneville for assistance. What we don't know is whether that happened before or after McDannel's exploded.
The rest of this article can be read at the SantaRosaHistory.com website. Because of recurring problems with the Blogger platform, I am no longer wasting my time formatting and posting complete articles here. I will continue to create stubs for the sake of continuity, but will be publishing full articles only at SantaRosaHistory.com. - Jeff Elliott
What does a town do after suffering a traumatic event? Try to quickly forget or make an effort to remember? It was mid-December 1920, after the sheriff was murdered and his killers were lynched. Santa Rosa seemed to want to move on; Christmas was two weeks away and most everyone had better things to do than stew over those horrific events.
Yet there were some who couldn't let it pass. Sheriff James “Sunny Jim” Petray was extremely popular throughout Sonoma County, known as a cheerful guy with a big heart. He deserved to be remembered and honored - a monument dedicated to him, maybe.
This is the surprising epilogue to the series “THERE WILL BE PRICES PAID” about the aftermath of the 1920 lynching in Santa Rosa. It's surprising because some were very upset over the design and setting of the memorial to Petray. It's also surprising because in more than a century we haven't heard about them getting so worked up - I stumbled across this forgotten history while researching something completely different.
Our story picks up four days after the sheriff's funeral. The concept of building a Petray Memorial Fund quickly turned to organizing a benefit baseball game between Santa Rosa's home team Rosebuds and a pickup team of major league professionals spending the winter in San Francisco. Included were indeed some celebrities of the time: “Lefty” O’Doul, "Duster" Mails and "Duffy" Lewis. (I know nothing about baseball so anyone who wants to argue about them pls. squabble elsewhere.) The Press Democrat claimed Babe Ruth might play, which was never likely.
With only two months to organize (game day was February 22) the community came together and pulled it off with remarkable ease. Extra streetcars and buses were scheduled. They formed committees galore; one prepped the grounds at Recreation Park (right behind our present high school) and extended the bleachers; others managed ticket sales by districts. A brass band of forty local musicians formed to play at the courthouse before the game, with Lee Brothers' freight trucks prepared to cart them over to the baseball field so they could toot more tunes between innings.
The Governor sent his regrets for not being able to attend but the Lieutenant Governor threw out the first pitch, the band entertained and comics performed a warmup show. The "Salient Six" all-stars beat the Rosebuds 2-1.
At $1.00 each, tickets were "going like hot cakes at Davis' Rotisserie" (per Santa Rosa Republican). The Farm Bureau bought a block so they could attend together, as did the Santa Rosa Chamber of Commerce. The sheriff's office in Eureka ordered 100 and the San Francisco sheriff took 500. Another 700 were sold at the gate. The final attendance was not recorded, but estimated up to 3,000. The total receipts ended up being over $2700, with a net profit of $2400 - over $80k today.
They had expected to raise about $800 so getting 3x as much was quite a windfall. Original memorial plans were modest - just a drinking fountain in front of the sheriff's office (on Hinton Ave. across from Courthouse Square). But now that there were fistfuls of money available, ideas on how it should be spent rolled in. The Sonoma County Federation of Women’s Clubs lobbied for a double row of trees planted along Redwood Highway, which the Santa Rosa Republican was quick to shoot down.
A committee of three was formed to make a decision; it was headed by Judge Seawell and included a representative from Petaluma and Healdsburg. By the end of the year it was announced they had commissioned J. W. Dolliver, architect of the beautiful courthouse, to construct a memorial on the northeast corner of Courthouse Square.
The design would be a kind of proscenium stage, raised a couple of steps above the sidewalk and 24 feet wide, with a drinking fountain on each side. The back was curved and at the top was carved, "Noble Life Crowned With Heroic Death Rises Above Self and Outlives the Pride and Pomp and Glory of the Mightiest Empire of The Earth." (It was from an 1868 speech by future president Garfield at the first Memorial Day celebration.)
But this was to be no empty stage - a San Francisco artist was separately commissioned to create a statue. "The main figure in the design is the Goddess of Justice, seated, with sword and wreath upon her knee. The whole is to be eight feet high and constructed of artificial stone," wrote the Healdsburg Tribune. It was so large that sculptor Henry von Sabern used three tons of clay just to build the model.
The rest of this article can be read at the SantaRosaHistory.com website. Because of recurring problems with the Blogger platform, I am no longer wasting my time formatting and posting complete articles here. I will continue to create stubs for the sake of continuity, but will be publishing full articles only at SantaRosaHistory.com.
Labels: 1921, 1922, 1923, 1932, lynching1920
In March 1963, the first annual "Congress for Community Progress" was held at the Flamingo Hotel. Formed by the Santa Rosa Chamber of Commerce, its avowed mission was to "unify community thought and action" around ways to improve the city, according to general chairman Judge Hilliard Comstock, while avoiding "rehashing mistakes of the past."
The 268 participants - drawn from downtown business interests, social clubs, churches, unions and the City Hall bureaucracy - were split into seven panels. Some of their recommendations had little or no chance: An arts festival intended to draw visitors by the hundreds of thousands, a volunteer-run "central service club" for all elderly and handicapped residents, donations of large plots of land for new parks and baseball fields, and a "United Crusade" to collect donations for all local charities.
In contrast, the streets and traffic panel did not indulge in daydreams. They pushed to lobby for a bill in the state legislature for higher gas and road taxes, plus an upcoming municipal bond vote that would fund over $1 million in streetwork. "There's nothing wrong with Sonoma County and Santa Rosa's road, street and parking problems that money won't cure," promised Press Democrat editor Art Volkerts.
Much has been written here about Santa Rosa's urban renewal misadventures during the 1960s and 1970s, which culminated with the city bulldozing a third of downtown so a private developer could build the mall. Should you be unfamiliar with that sad story, here’s a short recap or Gentle Reader can plunge into the extensive series about it all, “YESTERDAY IS JUST AROUND THE CORNER.”
But before we began tearing those buildings down, there was another civic program that set the stage for Santa Rosa destroying its Shadow of a Doubt character in the name of progress. That was the city's embrace of a street improvement plan to supersize many of our streets, both commercial and residential. Because of it, Santa Rosa gradually turned from “The City Designed for Living” into "The City Designed for Cars."
The rest of this article can be read at the SantaRosaHistory.com website. Because of recurring problems with the Blogger platform, I am no longer wasting my time formatting and posting complete articles here. I will continue to create stubs for the sake of continuity, but will be publishing full articles only at SantaRosaHistory.com. - Jeff Elliott
Let's play a game: Try to name a city more self-destructive than Santa Rosa.
We split the town in half (twice!) and hid the downtown creek from sight, although it was the natural feature beloved by all. We encouraged demolishing historic neighborhoods, plowing ahead with urban renewal even after that kind of planning was widely discredited. And if you wanna see someone's blood actually boil, take an older person down to Courthouse Square and ask them to point out the courthouse.
There's lots more. We needlessly widened many commercial and residential streets to better accomodate the Car Culture of the 1960s (this is the topic of the following article). One of those street projects was so outrageous it demands special attention because it involved the demolition of Luther Burbank's home. That happened just a few days before the annual Rose Festival - technically the Luther Burbank Rose Festival, of course - and where that year's theme was "Our American Heritage." Oh, the irony. Ironies.
The history of Burbank's lost house was told here earlier, so there's no need to rehash all the details. But briefly, it was built to his specifications in 1906 and remained his home until he died there twenty years later. The ground floor was almost entirely used as his office and on its front steps he was photographed with Thomas Edison, Henry Ford and other luminaries. Once the home was built, he referred to the place we now call Luther Burbank Home & Gardens as the “Old Homestead,” or the “Experimental Farm.”
The seeds for its destruction were planted in 1960 when a New Jersey consulting firm hired by the city proposed connecting Sonoma Ave. to Ellis St. As with so many of Santa Rosa's urban renewal plans, there was no good reason given why this should be done.
Their design - which can be seen in a previous article - would have diverted Metanzas Creek into Santa Rosa Creek around E Street. The city could then reclaim the filled in lower part of Metanzas to create a new park or maybe "a civic center perhaps to include a new City Hall, Chamber of Commerce building, and state offices." Although we'll see there was a later squabble over the route of the Sonoma/Ellis connection, it was always going to cut through the property with Burbank's home.
The rest of this article can be read at the SantaRosaHistory.com website. Because of recurring problems with the Blogger platform, I am no longer wasting my time formatting and posting complete articles here. I will continue to create stubs for the sake of continuity, but will be publishing full articles only at SantaRosaHistory.com. - Jeff Elliott
It's early 1861 and the nation is falling apart. Seven states have seceded from the Union and their troops are seizing local military forts. The New Orleans Mint and Customhouse are commandeered along with $350,000 (equivalent to $18M today). There are widespread worries an attack on Washington D.C. is imminent - yet hope abounds an outright war can still be avoided.
Most Americans could stay reasonably abreast of the crisis without too much effort. There were an estimated 3,000 newspapers and trains, stagecoaches and the post office carried those papers far and wide. News also could also spread quickly via telegrams and letters. It was a wondrously efficient network - at least, as long as you lived east of the Mississippi River.
In the critical months leading up to the Civil War there was no transcontinental railroad or telegraph. Not even a tiny wisp of news from the East Coast could reach California or Oregon in less than three weeks, which was how long it took mail or a messenger to get here via stagecoach from Missouri. And that was only under ideal conditions with the best luck; a lot might go wrong during a 2,000 mile bumpy trip across deserts and mountains on rough trails.
Thus it came to pass a freight company that supplied western military forts started the Pony Express in April 1860, with the promise that a relay of fast horsemen could deliver mail to California in 7-10 days. Only rarely, under ideal weather conditions and with a great deal of luck, did it meet such a tight schedule.
By coincidence, the Pony Express launched just as Sonoma County newspapers were starting to gain wider Bay Area circulation. During the mid-1850s there were two lackluster rural weeklies, the Sonoma County Journal in Petaluma and the Sonoma Democrat in Santa Rosa. In April 1860 the Democrat was bought by Thomas L. Thompson and in May Samuel Cassiday and a partner took over the nascent Petaluma Argus, which was only a few months old and thus far had been published in fits and starts. (MORE on the genealogy of these early newspapers)
There weren't many places in the West during 1860 that could support three papers, but Sonoma County then had the most people on the coast after San Francisco. Also, the papers offered more than the usual market reports and items on local farmers drunkenly falling off barn roofs. Thompson's Democrat was rabidly pro secession, pro slavery and anti Lincoln. Cassiday was a "Black Republican" (meaning an abolitionist) and once the war started the Argus offered extensive coverage of Union troop movements along with battlefield reports. The Journal took a moderate stance and advocated for peace until the war began, then often wrote about it with a detached tone as if it were a conflict between two nations overseas.
The Pony Express updates were like catnip to their readers. Columns headlined "EASTERN NEWS - BY PONY EXPRESS" (or similar) were usually at the top of the front pages and it's easy to understand the appeal; the news in those columns has an exciting immediacy even though the events happened weeks earlier. It reminds me of what it was like following breaking news on Twitter during its heyday: A frothy mixture of solid facts, opinionated guesswork and crazy bullshit.
The rest of this article can be read at the SantaRosaHistory.com website. Because of recurring problems with the Blogger platform, I am no longer wasting my time formatting and posting complete articles here. I will continue to create stubs for the sake of continuity, but will be publishing full articles only at SantaRosaHistory.com. - Jeff Elliott
Labels: 1860, 1861, Civil War, newspapering
Let the record show: In 1968, Santa Rosa achieved Peak Pepper. That was the year when the local Grand Poobahs gave a badge to our town character and proclaimed she was henceforth the town marshal. What could possibly go wrong?
This is part two of the story of Pepper Dardon. Her backstory was hashed in "I, PEPPER" which I urge you to read before continuing. Starting sometime in the mid-1950s she became a noisy and (mostly) cheerful fixture around the downtown district. How well someone got along with her depended on who they were and which Pepper they met. "She could be obnoxious or sweet, depending on the street persona she adopted that day," her 1992 Press Democrat obituary noted.
She was invariably kind to children who seemed to view her as silly, a grownup who didn't act like the usual sort of adult and wasn't much taller than they were. Older kids might think she was scary or mean because she teased them. Teenagers with smart mouths sometimes recognized her as one of their own ilk.
If you were a store clerk or bank teller having a busy day you did not want to see Pepper coming through your door. "Santa Rosa merchants, who endured her tirades as she made her daily rounds, considered her either a charming looney or a public nuisance," the PD obit also recalled. She was sure to do something disruptive; "Topping it all off, she yodeled, sang and played the harmonica. But not very well." Should there be a candy jar on the counter she would shoplift fistfuls to hand out later - see above, Children: Kindness to.
The men and women who were active in social clubs and charities appreciated her as an indefatigable volunteer. Pepper's self-appointed downtown duties included collecting money for good causes, which often were a sizable portion of all money raised during a fundraising drive. She sold lapel pins for the Lions Club's White Cane Day, ersatz red poppies for the VFW, candy for the Santa Rosa Jewish Women's Club (she wasn't Jewish), tickets to the Kiwanis pancake breakfast, rattled donation cans for the American Cancer Society and probably begged donations for still other groups forgotten.
When the campaign was over and the club held its inevitable self-congratulatory luncheon Pepper was often invited because of her outsized contribution. For a long time those orgs treated her as something like their own poster child, as did the Chamber of Commerce and particularly the Police Department.
"There's no question she got away with a lot. She was a kind of mascot to our smaller-town Police Department. The officers treated her like a pet." Gaye LeBaron wrote in a must-read 2005 column. Even before the town marshal gag, Pepper was chummy with the officers personally and they did favors for each other; cops would give her a lift in patrol cars and she would run errands for them, such as fetching a raincoat from the police station, according to a different column by Gaye. Nor did it hurt that she prowled downtown with a sharp eye for lawbreakers, like the top elephant enforcing good behavior on her unruly herd. Woe to anyone she caught jaywalking or dropping a gum wrapper - people were astonished such a tiny woman could holler so loud.
But Pepper had no greater champion than the Press Democrat, particularly columnist Gaye LeBaron. Pepper's birthday was usually heralded in the column, as were the impressive sums she collected for the fundraiser de jour. There were items when she broke her thumb and when she adopted a kitten. After husband Paul lost his job of twelve years as Occidental Hotel janitor, readers learned the Lions Club passed the hat and raised $36 to help them out. Updates followed as he was hired twice again as a janitor and lost those jobs as well. At one point an anonymous caller sniped to LeBaron's editor she should "stop talking so much about Pepper."
It was early in 1968 when a Pepper fan wrote to LeBaron suggesting they lobby to have Pepper chosen as Grand Marshal for that year's Rose Parade: "Riding in an open car down Fourth street would perhaps repay her in some small way for all the time she's donated." Gaye liked the proposal and hoped Pepper would get the nod - but a quirk of fate caused her to end up as a different kind of marshal instead.
The rest of this article can be read at the SantaRosaHistory.com website. Because of recurring problems with the Blogger platform, I am no longer wasting my time formatting and posting complete articles here. I will continue to create stubs for the sake of continuity, but will be publishing full articles only at SantaRosaHistory.com.
- Jeff Elliott
Labels: 1969, 1975, 1992, Pepper, rose festival