Pescadero Memories

From the “Coastside Comet,” June 18, 1920

Pescadero to Celebrate

Plans and preparations are being completed for a big Fourth of July celebration in Pescadero this year. The festivities will be held on Monday, July 5, commencing with a musical and literary program at 10 o’clock. At noon there will be the free barbecue and and races and games will be held in the afternoon. Dancing from 1:30 to 5 o’clock, a display of fireworks in the evening and a grand ball in I.D.E.S. hall to conclude the day’s program.

Edward J. Hevey will be the president of the day and H.W. Lampkin of Redwood City has been selected as orator. The committee of arrangements consists of Eli D. Moore, M. R. Mattei, James McCormick, Walter H. Moore, Oliver A. McCormick, Antone George, Hugh McCormick, Antone T. Enos and E.A. Shaw.

The floor mangers for the afternoon and evening dances will be Walter Moore, Oliver McCormick and “Tony” George.

On the reception committee will be William A. Moore, Hugh McCormick, J.A. Moore, Frank George and A.W. Woodhams.

The committee handling the afternoon games and races will consist of J.E. Shaw, Charles Mattei, George Goularte, D.C. Adair and Arthur Teague.

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From theW “Coastside Advocate”

“Dr. W. J. Marsh, the popular Santa Cruz dentist arrived in town with his estimable lady and the junior Marsh, Monday. He opened parlors two doors south of Levy’s store, where he will remain fro a few days. The genial doctor is a favorite here, having made previous visits through this section, when he always gave satisfaction.

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From the “Coastside Advocate”

“Dr. Marsh, the dentist, who is associated with Dr. O. L. Gordon of Santa Cruz, and who has made regular semi-annual trips through this section for the past four years, is established in town for the next week only. His stay is thus necessarily limited on account of southern engagements previously contracted.”

Story by John Vonderlin

Email John (benloudman@sbcglobal.net)

Hi June,

I’ve always been mildly curious about the origin of the town of Pescadero’s name ever since I first became aware of the town a few years ago. If you look up the word in a Spanish dictionary you’ll find it means “fishmonger,” a seller of fish. Its components are “pescado” (the root noun), or fish in English (more specifically a fish that has been caught for food, as “pez” is the word for a free-roaming fish) and the “ero” suffix, which is used for someone who deals with the root noun. Hence a pescadero is a person who deals in caught fish or a fish monger. Just as a vaquero (cowboy) is one who deals with cows (vaca).

In the old newspaper articles I see that citizens of Pescadero were referred to as Pescaderoites, instead of the currently used Pescaderans. Since when translated, neither a Fishmongerite or a Fishmongeran seems like a very good moniker for the citizens of the town, I’m glad there is another more pleasant connotation for the town’s name.

Dr. Alan K. Brown in his 1960 book, “Place Names of San Mateo County,” relates this:

Pescadero… In 1833  “El Pescadero” (The Fishing Place) was the name of the valley place (sic) around the present town. By the middle 1850’s the Spanish village here was called “the Pescadero.” In the late ’50’s American settlers took over the place, which they were inclined to call “Piscadero.” : this pronunciation can still be heard. The present form of the word was standard by the ’60’s.

The land grant record of 1833 states that the place had “previously been called San Antonio’s: this may be the the same name as the Indian village San Antonio mentioned in the Santa Cruz Mission register between 1795 and 1802.

In the 1883 book, “History of San Mateo County,” an unknown author expands this further when he writes:

Pescadero–The name suggests, not only to the inhabitants of San Mateo county but the thousands of tourists who have sought out the romantic and picturesque scenery of the Pacific coast-a spot where nature seems loth (sic) to expose her charms, and slyly hide Pescadero among the mountains. Here a recess in the coast hills widens to a perfectly level plain of several hundred acres, into which two perennial streams drop down from their weird sources in the dark forest of redwood, and rush out of the narrow gateway into the sea.

Of civilized men, this little valley first attracted the the attention of one (sic) Gonzales, a Spaniard, who obtained a grant of it from the Mexican government, called the Rancho de San Antonio or Pescadero. Perhaps the hundreds of anglers who have decoyed the speckled trout from the Butano and Pescadero creeks have never reflected that the great abundance with which these streams were filled gave rise to the name of the grant and the town. Gonzales came upon the grant with the intention of erecting a permanent residence, but soon after died.

I found one last source of information about the historic names of Pescadero in a Berkeley undergraduate’s geography paper that was prefaced, apparently by his professor, with this rather deflating introduction, but contained the most extensive coverage of this matter I’ve been able to find. Please note that Dr. Brown’s information about “one Gonzales” actually refers to Juan Jose Gonzales, and it would seem that he accomplished much more than dying “soon after.”

This is a paper that was written by a very =) fallible undergraduate student at the University of California at Berkeley. It was written for an Islands and Oceans Geography course, as a “California Beach” research project.
geography.berkeley.edu/PersonalPages/R_Levinson/Pa…   (dogpile.com… websearch Pructaca to find)

“The Pescadero area was once inhabited by the Ohlone, a small group of Indians that was a part of a larger tribe known as the Coastanoans. There are several known shell medden mounds in the area, but their location is not disclosed to the public due to fear of vandalism. According to Jean Ferreira, in a personal interview with Rena Obernolte, the mounds were discovered in the 1970s, but have not been excavated (1996: 7). Frank S. Viollis, in discussing the area with Steven Dietz on May 2, 1979 discovered that Mission records show that a village called Pructaca was located near modern day Pescadero (1979: 10).
Spanish-Mexican (1769-1840s):

In 1769, Pescadero was first entered into recorded history by Portola, as he passed through the area in search of Monterey Bay. The Pescadero Marsh is located on two former Spanish land grants: the Butano Grant and old San Antonio of Pescadero Grant. The region was being used by the Mission Santa Cruz for pasture when Juan Jose Gonzales petitioned to receive a grant in 1833. He received a grant for the land, totalling 3,282 acres, extending from the Pomponio Creek in the north, to the Butano Creek in the south when the Mission was secularized. He was very successful, and went from a herd of 700 in 1834 to 4,000 cattle and 500 horses in 1840 (Violli 1979: 14). He sold 800 acres of his land to Eli Moore, and passed on the remainder to his siblings. The Butano Grant to the south, which encompassed a small portion of the Pescadero Marsh was officially passed on to Romone Sanchez in 1844.”

The  bit of info about the Indian village called Prutaca being near where Pescadero is now, is bolstered by the register of rancherias and villages from which neophytes were drawn for Mission Dolores, which can be found at the following website. The inhumane treatment and shameful death rate of the hapless “converts” is also detailed at this website.

http://www.accessgenealogy.com/native/mission/dolores_mission.htm

Lastly, whether it was called Pructaca, el Pescadero, The Fishing Place, the Pescadero, Piscadero, or Pescadero, I think Mr. Shakespeare illuminated the essential truth when he said, “That which we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet, so Romeo would, were he not Romeo called.” Enjoy. John

Pescadero’s Claim to Fame by John Vonderlin

(email John: benloudman@sbcglobal.net)

Hi June,

One of the recurrent themes of my essays has been the greatest claim to fame of the sleepy town of Pescadero.

Your book, “The Coburn Mystery,” detailed its most brilliant moments in the limelight during the 19th Century. Loren Coburn and the citizens of Pescadero’s battle for control of beach access to Pebble Beach, the most attractive rock collecting spot on the West Coast, as well as the mysterious murder of his wife placed it in the minds and on the lips of many in the Bay Area and even the state. But, as the century faded so did its notoriety.

A while ago, while rereading the “The Electric Kool Aid Acid Test” by Tom Wolfe, I came upon a single reference to Pescadero, and wondered if any other book or other medium had produced as many “eyeball” moments for Pescadero, as that one? This extremely popular book was published nearly forty years ago and has been reprinted repeatedly, including a leather-bound three volume edition as recent as 2003 that also includes “The Kandy-Kolored Tangerine-Flake Streamline Baby” and Radical Chic and Mau Mauing the Flak Catcher.”

The reference, which I thought might be Pescadero’s brightest lightning bolt of fame, is on Page 27 at the end of the first paragraph, at least in my paperback copy. This is the end of the graph where Tom Wolfe, is discussing with Ken Kesey, what was going on in his head when he returned to the United States, after hiding out in Mexico, to avoid a drug bust prosecution. Kesey, explaining what had happened there includes:

“-and I went outside and there was an electrical storm, and there was lightning everywhere and I pointed to the sky and lightning flashed and all of a sudden I had a second skin, of lightning, electricity, a suit of electricity, and I knew it was in us to be superheroes and that we could become superheroes or nothing.” He lowers his eyes, ” I couldn’t tell this to the newspapers. How could I? I wouldn’t be put me back in jail, I’d be put in Pescadero.”

When I read this, I laughed and thought, while Kesey may have seemed a little confused, perhaps it was a La Honda resident’s inside joke/neighboring town putdown.
After all, it’s hard to believe the guy that wrote, “One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest,” which was set in a mental hospital, would confuse Atascadero State Hospital, with Pescadero. Whatever the cause, I think the old adage, “Say what you want about me, just spell my name right,” should apply.

I wondered if there were any contenders to this odd moment of glory for bucolic Pescadero?

Well, last night while watching the end of a movie I had seen a long time ago, I came upon a contender to the most viewed reference to the town of Pescadero, that completely blows away Kesey’s Freudian(?) slip.

It’a in a film that grossed $519,843,345 worldwide. A film that created a number of phrases that have entered our culture and endured for more then a decade. A sequel film that featured a character in the Top 100 (#48) heroes of film (American Film Institute) that had also been in the Top 100 (#22) villians of film (American Film Institute AFI) in the original, an unprecedented circumstance. A character, played by an actor, who, after an unprecedented recall election, became the governor of California. That actor being Arnold Schwarzenegger.

The film: Terminator 2, Judgment Day.

Oddly, it is once again the mutation of Atascadero State Hospital into Pescadero State Mental Hospital that creates this reference heard round-the-world. Here’s a summary excerpt from Wikipedia, about Terminator 2, Judgment Day, or T2 as it has popularly become known that explains the reference:

“Sarah’s experiences have significantly changed who she is, making her tougher and more vigilant, but also more desperate to warn humanity about the threat of the future human versus machine war — revelations that lead authorities to commit her to a mental institution, Pescadero State Hospital.”

My guess is, thanks to VHS tapes, DVDs, and worldwide distribution, more then half a billion people have heard this reference to the quiet, humble town of Pescadero.

I suspect the recent beginning of a television series entitled, “The Sarah Connor Chronicles,” is probably why the Terminator series is getting so many replays lately. I can just hear Arnie chuckling as he cashes his residuals checks saying so rightly, Hasta la Vista, baby. Enjoy. John Vonderlin

[I wrote this in 1977.]

Two years after the Great Blaze of 1926, sheriff’s officers followed a guide who led them over a trail covered with a tangled mass of ferns, shrubs and fallen trees. As the deputies hiked carefully through this secluded valley in the hills east of Pescadero, they guessed at what they would see ahead.

Yet the officers were amazed when they saw the size of the “mountain moonshine colony.”

In the beautiful green valley the cops saw a series of log cabins, hastily abandoned. Inside the cabins deputies found large vats with a holding capacity of 1000 gallons. In the center of the moonshine colony stood a big building with an electrical generator and other machinery.

The only inhabitants left were two chained and starving police dogs. They were barking loudly and despite their emaciated condition, attempted to lunge at the “invaders” who shot them down.

Inside another cabin there were overturned chairs and tables, bullet holes in the walls and windows and splotches of dark blood on the floor. Everything pointed to a terrific gun battle.

The cops theory was that some sort of dissension divided the “colony.” A bitter feud developed settled with gunfired. Those left alive feared unwelcome guests and quickly dispersed.

But what happened to the bodies? Nobody answered that question.

When more distilling equipment was discovered concealed beneath a nest of shrubbery, the police were convinced the bootleggers would return.

The “Mountain Moonshine Colony” was shut down but whether the people who ran it were found and arrested, we may never know.

[I wrote this in 1977.]

Rumrunners, bootleggers and raids by the liquor police remained topic number one on the South Coast until March 1926 when a quick-spreading fire rallied the small community to save the little town of Pescadero.

A local resident was filling his gas tank at the Coast Side Transportation Company when a few drops of the flammable liquid splattered a nearby lantern that was lit. Seconds later a loud explosion caused the man to cover his ears–and the building burst into a hot fence of flames.

Next door the warehouse caught fire, and the wind pushed the flames towards Duarte’s Lodging House and a soft drink parlor. On fire were Williamson’s General Store and warehouse.

Hundreds of citizens flocked to the disaster scene, forming a bucket brigade. There was no professional fire department; it was up to the residents to carry heavy pails of water from Pescadero Creek a thousand feet away.

Mrs. Manuel Enos, who for 30 years supervised the Pescadero telephone exchange, remained at her post even as the fire destroyed her own home. When Mrs. Enos learned that high tension wires interfered with fire fighter’s efforts, she calmly called the PG&E office in Redwood City and asked them to switch off the dangerous current.

When telephone service was lost, Pescadero’s lone traffic officer sped over the twisty road to San Gregorio where he called the Redwood City Fire Department for assistance. It didn’t take long for the Seagrave chemical pumper truck to race over the winding mountain road in the record time of one hour and 18 minutes.

As the fire truck screeched to a halt on the main street of Pescadero, firemen jumped down and dropped their hoses into the creek. At last powerful sprays of water cooled the hot flames, preventing the fire from spreading any farther.

Half the “business district” stood in ashes. Despite the emotional and economic tragedy, the owner of Williamson’s General Store displayed the pioneer spirit, announcing plans to rebuild in a new location next door to the Bank of Pescadero.

And within days a small army of carpenters got to work constructing half-a-dozen new buildings destroyed by the blaze that some described as the worst in the history of San Mateo County.

[Note: I wrote this in 1977.]

The how, where and when of landing illegal booze along the Pescadero coast was not something the locals openly talked about–but there were plenty of whispers about an isolated ranch house which reportedly served as local headquarters–the “where” where the booze was unloaded.

During one raid, the liquor police netted a dozen “alleged” smugglers, including higher-ups employed by a Canadian rumrunning company (which claimed a business of $12 million a year.)

Those who knew the landing point described it as elaborately fortified with a sophisticated system of signal lights that could transmit messages between the Canadian rum fleet and landing boats. A machine gun mounted on the beach warned possible hijackers to stay away.

[I wrote this in 1977.]

All during Prohibition, Pescadero provided the colorful backdrop for a violent whiskey war between smugglers…..and the residents of the tiny village.

And when undercover agents learned from their key sources that a well-connected booze ring routinely landed whiskey near Pescadero, the liquor police swarmed into the quiet seaside town. First on their list was to find $20,000 worth of missing Scotch whiskey bound for San Francisco.

Insiders, privy to the exclusive details, were persuaded to talk. As usual, these folks explained, the smugglers arrived when it waas dark to unload their valuable cargo on the secluded beach. But this time, the men temporarily buried the whiskey in the sand with the idea of digging it up later. With sand in their shoes, they fled the scene, not in high-powered automobiles, but in their high speed motorboats–to pick up more booze from a “mother ship” anchored some distance away.

Unknown to the smugglers, a gang of five locals hid in the shadows nearby, watching the rumrunners bury the whiskey in the cold sand–and as soon as it was safe they rushed over to the spot and dug the liquid treasure up. Within an hour the whiskey was being distributed throughout Pescadero and they had become “hijackers.”

This was a dangerous thing to do.

As soon as the rumrunners returned to the beach, and discovered their whiskey was gone, it didn’t take them long to figure out what had happened. Scowling, the heavily armed men headed for Pescadero, bursting into homes, threatening lives, demanding to know what happened to the stolen booze.

Finally they hit the jackpot and cornered one of the locals involved in the theft. During that long night, he was beat-up until he talked, implicating all his fellow “hijackers,” all of whom talked and finally returned what was left of the Scotch whiskey.

This was the dark side of Prohibition.

Early in 1924 an abandoned trawler, the SS Fremont crashed into the rocks near Ano Nuevo Island–arousing the curiosity of the alcohol police, as well as the locals, of course.

Just like the table talk at Duarte’s Tavern today, the Pescaderans debated the stranded boat’s destination. There were many opinions.

Some folks blamed it on the heavy seas that accounted for both the missing crew and their liquid cargo. Rumors circulated that this was not the first rumrunning disaster in the exact location. There had been a string of “disasters” in the exact same treacherous part of the South Coast.

An intensive search for the SS Fremont’s owners turned up the captain who was anxious to talk about his experience. The Fremont was a rumrunning vessel, he said, and it struck the invisible reefs when he mistook the light on “Mile Rock” [which signaled the westward turn into the Golden Gate.] The boat’s captain also revealed that everybody on board got away by swimming to shore– except for one crew member who drowned in the surf.

Loren Coburn and Joe Levy had been feuding for a decade. During the 1880s, Levy and his brothrs, Armand and Fernand, had opened a general store in the old, two-story McCormick building, near the Swanton House, once a quaint hotel where Pebble Beach-bound guests often stayed overnight.

Not only did the Levy Brothers sell soft goods and hardware at the Pescadero location but there was a drug store, a Wells Fargo station, Western Union agency and a U.S. Post Office under the one roof. In 1885 Joe Levy was appointed the postmaster.

The warrant for Levy’s arrest was telegraphed to his Pescadero store. Before pleading, he was released on his own recognizance.

Joe Levy’s defense at the jury trial centered on the fact that people had traveled over the Pebble Beach’s cow trail for 20 years., conferring upon it the legal status of a public road. By locking the gate, Loren Coburn had obstructed and denied the public’s right to use the road. Levy contended that unlocking the gate amounted to appropriate legal action.

Following a tense trial, the jury agreed.

The local press reported that Pescadero residents traveled across the squiggly cow trail to Pebble beach where they held “mammoth picnics and seaside banquets” to celebrate Levy’s victory.

The verdict intensified competition between the millionaire landowner and the popular businessman. When Coburn launched the People’s Stage Lind, a new stagecoach business covering the San Mateo-Half Moon Bay-Pescadero route, Levy countered with a rival line, setting off a cutthroat fare war.

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