Pescadero Memories

[Email John: benloudman@sbcglobal.net]

Hi June
In an earlier email I mentioned to you that I collected Naturools. Here’s the story behind my inspiration to begin collecting them.

Skree! The piercing, heart-stopping, blood-curdling cry of the hovering predator– promising impalement on its powerful talons–and the tearing of flesh by the razor sharp edges of its beak. It is no coincidence that in the world of rocks, there is a Rogue Rock, called scree, that is an evil fraternal twin of the rapacious raptor.

The dictionary defines scree as loose rock at the foot of a cliff or steep slope. I call them Fallen Angels, intent on malice to all. Scree– like so many other Rogue Rocks– have strayed from the “Path of Rest.”

Unused to mobility, their impetuous dives from their cliff homes have shattered their bodies and the normal rocks’ placid psyches, leaving them unstable and aggressive, ready to rip the flesh of any organic who trespasses in their domain. Clustered together at the foot of the cliff, with their lynch mob mentality, they wait silently, ready to strike out bloodily.

I suffered just such a vicious attack by these miscreants a few years ago and only barely escaped with my life. I had been picking my way cautiously across a scree slope looking for collectible rocks when my attention was drawn skyward by the screeching cry of a hawk. It was then that the Rogue Rocks attacked.

Several of them tripped me, knocking my feet out from beneath me. While I struggled to regain control, I suffered a cowardly attack to the back of my leg. The ringleader, using one of his sharp edges, opened me up from knee to cheek, as neatly as if a surgeon had used a scalpel. Shocked and bleeding, I fled for my life.

Reaching my truck without further attack, I dug out my trusty roll of duct tape, pulled the gaping wound closed and barber-poled my leg with it.

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Loren’s new stable business brought him face-to-face with travelers from all over California. Pescadero pioneer Alexander Moore was a client who, when he visited San Francisco, boarded his horse with Loren Coburn. (It is said that Mr. Moore built the first wood frame house in Pescadero.)

It’s possible that in the course of conversation, Alexander Moore revealed that lands were for sale on the South Coast–and Loren began to express interest. He was beginning to view land ownership as “insurance” against future economic hardships.

Chatting with folks at the stable, people from all over the state, gave him a good sense of real estate values. He also learned that many of the Spanish rancheros were in danger of losing their land–and that they desperately needed cash.

Until California joined the Union, the Golden State had been composed of a series of huge ranchos with legal issues decided under Mexican and/or Spanish law. Now with Americans pouring in, the land law was evolving, and in the beginning there was much confusion and opportunity for sharp investors.

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Or Is It A Secret Shame? By John Vonderlin

Hi June,

Tracing a habit, a hobby or obsession back to its roots can often give you insight into the power it wields over you in the present. Since I’ve written several emails to you about my photographing and collecting NotRocks, I thought it would be appropriate to share an essay I wrote for my support group therapy as part of my unsuccessful attempt to shake the hold “My Precious,” Manmade NotRocks have on my soul.

” My name is John Vonderlin and I collect Manmade NotRocks. I am conflicted. I consider myself a longtime member in good standing of the organization, “People For The Ethical Treatment of Rocks (PETR). “Oh, I’m no wild rock hugger, but I do talk the talk. You know…you’ve seen the bumperstickers…I’m My Rock’s Guardian. Rocks Are For Loving, Not Hurting. I’m My Rock’s Dad. Just Say No to Rock Abuse, etc. But, walking the walk has proved much more difficult. Manmade NotRocks were my fall from grace.

Here is my story.

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To read the story click here

(Image courtesy John Vonderlin)

Email John: benloudman@sbcglobal.net

Hi June,

If I was asked, “What is Pescadero’s greatest claim to fame?,” I believe it would be easy to decide. I think I’ve been building a good case with my photo essays that Invisible Beach, with its odd Neptune’s Vomitorium, is its most amazing spot. But since only a handful of people know where it is, that is eliminated.

And while Pebble Beach, as detailed in your book, had both its run of touristic glory two centuries ago for its colorful pebbles and its precedent-setting legal significance as a critical beach access court battle, its fame has subsequently diminished just as the number of pebbles have.

No, I think it would have to be a Sea Monster that Pescadero is most famous for. Before you think I’ve been reading too many Calvin and Hobbes comic strips let me explain.

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We don’t know where they met but Loren married Mary Antoinette Upton, seven years his senior and a native of North Reading, Mass. Mary’s younger sister, Laura, was married to Obadiah Taylor and the couple lived in San Francisco.

The Upton’s father, Amos, was a sailor, who went to Russia, and after the surrender of Napoleon I in 1815, claimed to have met and talked with the French ruler at his headquarters.

Loren’s wife, Mary, had two other younger sisters, Sarah Satira and Anna Celestia, and a brother, Marraton. Later all three would live in Pescadero with their sister and brother-in-law.

About 1855 Mary Antoinette had a son she called Wallace Loren. According to the Coburns, Wallace grew up to be a bright young boy and attended San Mateo Hall, a Redwood City school, operated by Dr. Brewer.

Before they settled on the South Coast, the Coburns moved to different addresses in San Francisco, 1218 Jackson, 2660 Jackson and they lived in a simple clapboard house at Capp & 24th Streets. An 1868-69 directory lists an L. Coburn engaged in real estate at 418 Montgomery, with a residence at 1218 Jackson.

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Another account says Loren Coburn was born in West Brookfield, Vermont. The 1871 edition of the Vermont Historical Gazetteer proudly stated that West Brookfield had “raised” 21 ministers.

Loren’s mom, Clarinda Claflin joined a religious revival in 1816 while still unmarried. She helped organize the Freewill Baptist Church where she met Ira Coburn, Loren’s father.

Loren was the fifth of nine sons born to Clarinda and Ira Coburn (the others were Ira, Allen, Squire, Alonzo, Julian, Lemmuel, Jehiel, Arzo and Jesse.) Some of them would later live in Pescadero.

After Clarinda’s death, her husband married Mrs. John French, a widow. The new Mrs. Coburn, the mother of two children, bore two more, Mary and Nellie.

Loren was 24 in 1851 when the U.S. Mail Steamship Falcon sailed from New York for Chagres    –the Atlantic terminus for the Panama railroad (and a 50-day voyage to San Francisco.)

Two years had elapsed since news of the great Gold Rush reached the East Coast but dreams of striking it rich had not died in Loren Coburn’s heart. Loren rode a mule through the dense, hot jungle and boarded the steamer Panama, arriving in San Francisco on June 1, 1851.

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(available at Duarte’s Tavern in Pescadero)

Hi June,
Being an admirer of people who have odd obsessions with nature and follow that obsession to a level few if any others ever attain, let me relate some of the story of Axel Erlandson, his Circus Trees and the piece of artwork I created to salute him. The following is from the Bonfante Gardens website which also has photos of several of the trees.

“An amazing example of man’s patience and imagination once known as the Tree Circus has been rescued from a forgotten plot in the Santa Cruz mountains and transported to a new home in Gilroy, California where they are now the centerpiece for a horticulturally based theme park called Bonfante Gardens Family Theme Park.

“The collection of unusual trees appeared often during the 1940’s and 50’s in Ripley’s “Believe-It-or-Not,” “Life” magazine as well as other publications in the United States and other parts of the world. These trees represent one of the most visible demonstrations of the love of nature by man - first to create and nourish, then to maintain, and finally to preserve and cherish these stunning creatures.

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(More tidbits on Loren Coburn’s personality & background)

From a variety of sources, including Loren himself, we can weave together a glimpse of what he was like. He had little education; he didn’t read books and showed no interest in politics. He had bad handwriting and wrote very few letters.

Loren sounded whiny when he talked and his speaking style was abrupt. (I’m not sure I know what that means.) He had a short fuse.
He had no vices; didn’t smoke, didn’t drink, thought nobody else should either.

Coburn did excell at mathematics. Some said he could do mathematics in his head. Read the rest of this entry »