Pescadero Memories

From John Vonderlin

Email John (benloudman@sbcglobal.net)

Story by John Vonderlin

Email John (benloudman@sbcglobal.net)

COLOMBIA   COVE’S   WRECK
The   Undoing   of   a   Stranded
Liner   Viewed   by   Crowds
of   Sightseers.
Souvenir-Hunters   Besiege   the   Vessel
in   Search   of   Relics   of   the
Disaster.
ON   BOARD   STEAMSHIP   COLOMBIA,
ashore   off   Pigeon   Point   Light   (via   Pesca -
dero,   Cal.),   July   18.―The   wrecking   of   the
steamer   goes   on,   though   tbe   bay   (they
call   it   Colombia   Cove   now)   is   calm   and
the   breakers   stilled.   The   ship’s   people
know   that   at   any   time   the   waves   from   a
local   blow,   or   a   mountainous   swell   boating
in   from   some   far   off   gale   will   drive   tbe
crew   ashore   and   finish   the   work   of   the
reef.
Everything   that   can   be   moved   and   re -
moved   to   the   schooners   alongside   is
wrenched   and   torn   from   its   fastenings   and
hoisted   over   tbe   rail   with   the   still   useful
donkey-engine.
That   donkey-machine   has   immortalized
itself.   While   the   great   main   engines   of
the   ship   lie   dead   and   corroding   under
water,   the   donkey-boiler,   perched   above
the   sea,   is   in   action,   and   Fireman   Collins
is   the   sooty   Casablanca   who   stays   by   the
furnace.
When   the   tide   registers   high   on   the
liter-marks   on   the   bulkhead   and   his   fire
sizzles   out   he   drops   his   shovel,   washes   his
face   in   the   flood   that   chases   him   from   his
post   and   goes   up   the   ladder.   Though   Col -
lins   is   a   king   in   a   small   way.   he   can   stay
the   sea   no   more   than   did   Canute   ages   ago;
but   he   gets   a   good   head   of   steam   on   before
the   water   laps   over   the   gratebars   and   the
faithful   “donkey”   runs   until   the   tide   falls.
Then   Collins   again   starts   his   fire   and   lor
a   season   defies   the   waves.
One   of   the   foremost   laborers   in   the   work
of   stripping   the   steamer   is   Ship-Carpenter
Wheaton.   He   assisted   in   building   the
Colombia   and   is   now   engaged   in   undoing
his   work.   With   chisel   and   crowbar   he
ruthlessly   wrenches   mirrors,   desks,   wash -
stands,   racks   and   lamps   from   their   places
and   tosses   them   out   onto   the   deck   to   be
hoisted   aboard   the   awaiting   schooners.
He   removed   the   piano   from   the   saloon
yesterday,   but   with   more   care   than   he   be -
stows   on   his   other   plunder.   There   are
three   other   pianos   down   in   the   flooded
hold.
The   only   idle   person   aboard   the   Colom -
bia   is   Customs   Inspector   O’Leary,   who   is
here   to   see   that   nothing   dutiable   washes
out   through   the   holes   in   tie   hulk   without
his   chalkmarks   thereon.   As   he   has   no
diving   suit   he   is   unable   to   get   down   into
the   hold   and   prevent   the   landing   of   the
cargo,   and   consequently   he   is   in   a   quan -
dary.   He   trusts   that   Deputy   Collector
Bam   Rudell   will   understand   the   situation.
The   only   foreign   importations   that   have
escaped   him   thus   far   are   about   40,000,000
limes   that   have   gone   bobbing   merrily   one
by   one   through   the   breakers   to   the   beach
without   permission   lrom   the   Treasury
Department.   Inspector   O’Leary   has   missed
several   cases   of   men’s   trousers   from   the
ship,   which   have   gone   out   through   the
shattered   bottom   and   have   disappeared.
The   souvenir   fiend   has   come   down   upon
the   helpless   ship.   Every   article   worthless
for   practical   uses   has   been   picked   up,
whether   floating   or   beached,   and   borne
away   to   be   exhibited   in   after   years   as   a
memento   of   Colombia   Cove’s   last   victim.
One   woman   tourist   from   Boston   found   on
the   beach   a   sardine   can   which   Joe   Levy   of
Pescadeo   had   thrown   away   after   eating   its
contents   on   the   bluff   the   day   before.
An   old   gentleman   hailing   from   Belve -
dere   secured   a   driftinc   beer-bottle   and
carried   it   away   in   triumph,   nor   recogniz -
ing   it   as   having   accompanied   him   to   the
locality   that   morning.   A   sweet   Stanford
co-ed   risked   her   life   snatching   from   the
salt   sea   waves   a   pocket-comb   which   her
escort,   a   football   savage,   had   lost.   He
had   been   combing   his   long,   Samsonian
tresses   behind   a   rock   a   la   mermaid   and
had   dropped   it   overboard.
The   country   swarms   with   midsummer
campers   and   the   shipwreck   is   an   addi -
tional   attraction   for   them.   They   come
down   tbe   beach,   sit   on   the   rocks   and   take
in   the   marine   drama,   with   the   poor   Colom -
bia   occupying   the   center   of   the   stage.   A
bright   sun   lights   the   scene,   and   the   or -
chestral   breakers   play   an   eternal   mono -
chord.   Other   ships   pass   and   repass   tbe
little   bay.   gliding   smoothly   over   the   quiet
sea,   and   their   freedom   makes   the   condi -
tion   of   their   luckless   sister,   bound   as   she
in   to   a   rock,   all   the   more   pitiable.
“I   was   listening   to   the   Ano   Nuevo   fog
signal   sounding   off   the   starboard   quarter,
and   had   not   the   slightest   idea   ol   danger,”
said   Captain   Clark   to-day,   in   discussing
the   recent   disaster.   “I   was   sure   that   it
was   the   Pigeon   Point   warning,   and   as   it
sounded   so   indistinct   in   the   thick   fog   I
believed   it   was   miles   astern,   and   so   kept
on,   with   this   result.   What   was   my   sensa -
tions   when   I   felt   the   reef?
“Well,   it   was   as   if   a   knife   was   going
through   me.   I   did   not   know   where   I   was,
and   the   shock   of   finding   myself   on   the
rocks,   when   I   thought   myself   well   at   sea,
bewildered   me   for   a   few   seconds.   Then   I
thought   of   the   passengers   and   crew;   of
myself   I   had   no   thought,   except   that   I
desired   to   go   down   on   those   rocks   and   be
ground   to   fragments   with   my   ship.
“I   have   sailed   probably   six   times   a   year
for   six   years   out   yonder,   going   up   and
down   this   coast.   I   knew   that   this   was   a
spot   to   shun,   and   that   it   was   the   burial
place   of   several   vessels   that   had   wandered
in   too   near   the   reefs.   Can   you   not   im -
agine   how   anxious   I   was   when   the   fog
came   down   upon   me,   and   a   danger   signal
horn   on   shore   was   sounding?   I   never
THE   SAN   FRANCISCO   CALL,   SUNDAY,   JULY   19,   1896.
heard   the   Pigeon   Point   signal,   though   it
was   so   near.   If   I   had   caught   a   note   of
that   whistle,   how   quickly   I   would   have
steered   for   the   open   ocean,   and   have   pre -
vented   this,”   and   the   captain   motioned
toward   the   hull   that   reeled   uneasily
beneath   our   feet.
“This   is   my   first   mishap   and   no   one   can
know   how   it   takes   me,”   he   continued.
“My   wife   and   my   daughter,   the   latter   of
whom   has   just   graduated   from   the   uni -
versity,   are   in   Massachusetts.   They   will
immediately   return;   their   pleasant   visit -
ing   is   quickly   brought   to   an   end.
But   I   have   one   consolation,   and   that
is   that   no   lives   were   lost.   There   is   no   sad -
ness   in   any   home   but   my   own.   I   wish
this   vessel   could   be   saved.   She   is   too
good   a   ship   to   be   lost.   She   was   so   perfect
in   every   way   that   every   one   who   sailed   in
her   became   attached   to   her.
“Even   now   the   Colombia   could   be   saved
if   the   proper   appliances   were   at   hand.
The   water   is   deep   around   the   narrow   ledge
of   rocks   on   which   she   lies   so   easily.   Ves -
sels,   lighters,   pontoons   of   any   draught
could   be   moored   alongside   of   her   and   her
hull   lifted   clear.   If   she   had   gone   ashore
within   forty   miles   of   New   York   or   any
large   Atlantic   seaport   she   would   not   have
been   abandoned   to   become   a   scrap-iron
heap   on   the   beach.   When   somebody   pro -
vides   a   modern   and   effective   wrecking
outfit   the   Pacific   coast   will   cease   to   be   a
graveyard   for   ships.”

In 1898 the steamship Colombia met its fate near Pigeon Point. But soon a new Colombia took its place on the international waters, commuting between Central America and San Francisco.

In the year 2000, I received a letter below from a passenger who was aboard the new Colombia.

The letter writer had read my historic piece about the Colombia and praised my work. Then he explained:

“I have enclosed a passenger list of the Colombia on its 22nd voyage on Jan 18th 1922.

“Down among the San Francisco passengers you can find my name ‘Master M. Chorro’…I was all of seven years old at the time. My grandparents in El Salvador shipped me in the care of the AUGSBERGS*** to SF where my bio mother met me. I was too young then, so I don’t recall any facts about my journey to the United States. The passenger list indicates that the new Colombia was sailing 26 years later.

Sincerely,

Manuel R. Chorro

San Bruno

———————–

I don’t know what “Augsbergs” means.

The wreck of the Hellespoint fed fuel to a growing movement seeking government funds for construction of a lighthouse along this notorious stretch of shoreline…but when they first chose to buy Ano Nuevo, and finding the asking price too high, the government settled on nearby Pigeon Point.

Workers completed the 100-foot tower built on solid rock in 1872. Besides featuring a revolving lens made in France (which originally wound up like a grandfather clock), the elegant lighthouse used 500,000 bricks and iron work in its construvction.

Captain J.W. Patterson, “an old salt,” and who arrived aboard the ship ‘Mentor’ in 1823, was put in charge of the new tower.

Despite the presence of a lighthouse at Pigeon Point (and hopes expressed for another at Pillar Point), the steamer ‘Columbia’ found herself stranded there in 1897. Local residents reportedly rushed to the scene where they stripped the staterooms of white and gold moulding which they used for picture frames.

Others removed copper wire and many observed that nearly every house in the vicinity was equipped with a copper wire clothesline. The tons of white lead discovered aboard the ‘Columbia’ was used to give homes in Pescadero a fresh coat of white paint. One man earned so much money on the wreck that he bought himself a new home in Spanishtown (later called Half Moon Bay.)

And some say that although the tower at Pigeon Point still lights the way for those who sail by, the rocky shoreline holds an uncertain fate for the unlucky few who lose their way.