Pescadero Memories

If you know, please email John Vonderlin

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By June Morrall

Wally Coburn was never going to work side-by-side with his millionaire landowner father; he had an illness, that, at the time, seemed incurable. But as often happens in life, fate intervened and presented Loren Coburn with another possibility: Carl J. Coburn, the ten-year-old who had stayed with the Loren Coburns at the Butano Dairy for six months.

He knew instinctively that Carl would be his surrogate son.

(Carl had been adopted by Loren’s brother Jehiel, and wife, Lucy, when he was four; Lucy was his aunt.)

Loren quickly evaluated Carl’s future potential. He was a bright kid that would grow into a handsome man; he already had the makings of a dazzling smile. He was everything Wally would never be.

There was no time wasted. Loren treated Carl as his own son, sending him to the University of the Pacific in 1893. The Pescaderans had the opportunity to size up their new resident, describing him as “…one of our most promising young men and…a bright and successful career is before him…”

Two years later Carl entered Stanford, which had been founded in 1885.. He pursued a career in Republican politics and was elected Pescadero’s Justice of the Peace. On a political roll, he next became the county supervisor from Pescadero.

His Uncle Loren had always been a busy man. He ran things at the Butano Dairy with 100 milk cows and 50 head of cattle. There was a house, barn, butter and cheese factory to look after.

Back in 1880 he had leased out, for $1.50 per acre, the land lying between Pigeon Point and Pescadero.

Loren also purchased the Gazos Mill, which had belonged to the Honorable Judge Horace Templeton, his arch-enemy during the ugly Pigeon Point Affair. The Gazos property included the mill, buildings and timber. The previous owner had a streak of very bad luck and creditors were knocking hard on his door. Considering the circumstances, Uncle Loren must have worked out a very good deal for the property.

Loren was often out of town. In King City, he owned some 10,000 acres and checked on the ranch he owned there.

He loved the business life, getting good deals, and he was invigorated by his many “wins.” Other than the great sadness associated with his son, Loren had little experience with losing.

He was a tough negotiator. He refused to change the terms of a new lease with the Portuguese whalers at Pigeon Point. He knew the whalers, good, reliable tenants, were not bringing in as many whales as they used to and refused to lower the rent. (When processed, the whales produced an oil used to light lamps in Pescadero and the Bay Area.)

He thought he could resolve any problems that might come up at beloved Pebble Beach. One day, everybody felt certain, a railroad would link Pescadero with San Francisco and Santa Cruz. Pescadero would no longer be an isolated village. Prosperity would touch everybody’s life.

Loren thought he could convince the railroad people to build a station at Pebble Beach which he believed he owned. Why not name it Coburnville, he thought. Or maybe that was just the rumor in Pescadero.

There was a huge difference of opinion about “who owned” Pebble Beach and the two sides could not resolve it with compromise.

I posted a lengthy but interesting series of posts about WWII on the Coastside here:

halfmoonbaymemories.com

Because of the nature of posting, the last story in the “series” appears first and you have to read backwards. Here’s the last story, the one that appears first:
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“In the first part of 1942, ‘G-men came to our home in Moss Beach:” Elaine Martini Teixeira

(Elaine Martini Teixeira at far right with her sister, Loretta.}

Elaine Martini Teixeira says:

Sometime in the first part of 1942, before my brother left for service in the US Army in October, government men came to our home in Moss Beach.

My brother, Raymond Martini, recalls they showed some official papers, but said they were not given to the family to read, and we do not know if they were FBI or what was then called G-Men. My Dad was not a citizen; he was born in Brazil, though of Italian heritage. He came to America from Italy; the family returned to Italy after a few years in Brazil, where they had gone to find work. My dad and one brother were born in San Paolo, Brazil.

I do not know what these men said exactly, but the family was told that my Dad had spoken well of Mussolini. When my Dad came to America at 16, sometime in 1913, he probably did have a good opinion of him. it was much later that Mussolini became more of a controversial, political figure.

When my husband & I toured Italy in the mid-eighties, people said Mussolini had done well for the country when he first came to power; he did similar things as our president had done; he built up the roadways, trains, etc., had tunnels constructed through the mountains and opened up Italy to travel and transportation to France and Switzerland. Additionally, this gave work to the men who were unemployed.

My Dad never returned to Italy after he came to America. I can say, he never spoke to us about the Italian government, or said anything particularly favorable about it. He neither wrote or read in either Italian or English; he probably did not know a lot about the situation in Europe. My father was certainly not a political type of person. He was just a hardworking man raising his family.

I remember being in my bedroom and my Mom came and said we needed to get into the living room as these men had arrived. There were at least 2 or 3 of them, and they wanted us all in one room. They proceeded to search the house. We did not see a search warrant, or anything else, to indicate they had official status to be there there. Maybe, during the war, it was not necessary, and I am sure my parents did not ask about it. We were all rather afraid of what was going to occur.

Additionally, they might have been looking for a shortwave radio. Mainly, they found some rifles that belonged to by brother, as he was an avid hunter. One rifle might have been my Dad’s; he was a farmer, and they were allowed to shoot rabbits that ate the crops. My brother took responsibility for the rifles so they would not cause any additional problems for my father.

Mostly, my older sister, myself and my younger sister were sitting in the living room, and what transpired was related to me, later, by my Mother. She felt that someone who may have been upset with my father over something, probably had reported him to the authorities.

Finally, after quite some time, my brother, who was visibly upset, reminded the ‘G-Men’ that he had enlisted in the service and would be leaving for the army air force. He asked: Did they feel my dad would send messages to the enemy so they could sink a ship that would be taking his own son to Europe to fight?

The government men had no answer for my brother’s question. They left and we never heard from them again.
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To read more stories about Coastside WWII, click on http://www.halfmoonbaymemories.com/

and scroll down.

By June Morrall

The Coburns Move Into the Town of Pescadero

Up until the 1880s, the Coburn family had been residing near Pigeon Point. My research indicates that they lived on land near Pigeon Point called the “Butano Dairy.”

All of Coburn’s holdings had names–one of them that comes to mind, a favorite of mine, was called the “Pocket Ranch,” and it may be known as that today.

I don’t know what type of accommodations they had at the Butano Dairy; there must have been a ranch house. During one six month stretch, Loren’s younger brother Jehiel (“JC”) and his wife, Lucy, and ten-year-old adopted son Carl came west from Vermont and stayed with the Coburn family. Though merely a boy, Carl impressed his Uncle Loren.

In the 1880s the Coburns leased the dairy and moved into an eight-room house on San Gregorio Street (Stage Road) in Pescadero.

Coburn purchased the home from Silas Swanton, the brother of Charles, whose wife was the famous Sarah Swanton. As you recall, Sarah and Charles owned the popular Swanton House a few steps away from the Coburn’s new residence on San Gregorio Street.

I believe Silas owned a stable in town, and perhaps Loren also bought that because the controversial landowner did open a stable. The checkerboard shingle that hung outside identified it as the “Eureka Stable.”

This was a business Loren knew very well. It was a business that had brought him good connections as well as financial success in San Francisco.

The stable also provided an escape from the heartbreaking situation at home where Wally’s failing mental condition set the tone. Not many guests came to the house, other than lawyers as Loren was constantly involved in lawsuits. These lawyers met Wally and described him as well cared for.

One of Loren’s first attorneys was William Craig; later Craig’s son J. Early would also represent Coburn–but Coburn did not practice loyalty. He had a string of attorneys from the Bay Area, names that must have been famous at the time.

Wally was a crushing disappointment for his energetic father. When Wally was young, Loren dreamed of his son taking over the business interests some day. But that would never be possible.

By June Morrall

A few hours after the brutal murder of Scotty Rae, a panel of Pescaderans was called to the official inquest organized by County Coroner Dr. Goodspeed. [We’ve talked about Goodspeed before; he was the man behind the movement to join Pescadero with San Mateo County, and the county seat at Redwood City, a much closer ride by stagecoach. Pescadero had been part of Santa Cruz County, and during the heavy winter rains, the village was cut off from its southern neighbor.)

A week later there was a hearing in sunny Redwood City. “Judge” Tyler represented Loren Coburn. In his client’s defense, he produced the Portuguese whalers who testified that they saw Scotty fire two shots before Wolff returned fire. That was good enough to get Coburn and his hired thugs out of jail. Bail was set at $5,000 and a date for trial was chosen.

There were two trials. The first began in February 1976. But there were delays because the defendants did not want to be tried together. Then jury selection took longer than anticipated. Conflicting testimony resulted in a hung jury.

In June there was a second trial. This time the court’s judge, Daingerfield, informed the sitting jury that the evidence was insufficient for conviction. They had to turn in a verdict of not guilty.

You can imagine how angry this made the Pescaderans who had come to court to watch the proceedings. If anybody knew Loren Coburn, and his ways, they did. They came to one conclusion and that was that the wealthy landowner Coburn thought he was above the law.

Simultaneously, Judge Daingerfield settled the Pigeon Point case. It was a final decision, he said, as he awarded the wharf, loading chute and roads to Loren Coburn. The case may have been settled in court, but Loren felt he had to bring County Sheriff Edgar with him to enforce the ruling. While the sheriff and Coburn rode over the redwood tree covered mountains to Pigeon Point, Judge Horace Templeton and his partners set in motion a new appeal, stopping Coburn from taking back his land.

The law was on his side but he couldn’t evict the tenants whose lease had run out several years before. It was driving Loren Coburn crazy; he was spending all his time watching produce and wood being loaded at Pigeon Point landing. In his mind, this was his landing, why, he was even losing money. Look at all the shingles and the potatoes being shipped to San Francisco. Who was making money on the venture? Not him, he knew, feeling hot under the collar.

He watched for two days and on the third day he knew he had to do something. With help from his men he pushed the little office at the end of the wharf to a place where it would obstruct commerce. Hah! That must have felt good.

That good feeling wouldn’t last long because Judge Daingerfield was informed of the act and he ordered Coburn to move it back.

By this time, Loren Coburn was so angry there was no way he was going to obey the judge’s orders. The office was unceremoniously tossed onto the rocks below the cliffs.

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Legal wrangling over Pigeon Point continued until his opponents ran out of money. In 1878 the California Supreme Court returned the title to Loren Coburn. There were rumors that both sides spent far more money fighting over the property than it was worth.

Now Coburn had control of the loading chute and the warehouse. Small boats still stopped there as they had since 1865–but on November 17, 1885, a mighty southwest gale blew it all away.

Story & photos by John Vonderlin
Email John ([email protected])

John’s photos below, of sea foam, wilt in comparison to the story quoted at the bottom of this post. You will not believe how huge sea foam can get, nearly swallowing up everything. Don’t miss the link at the end of this piece.

Hi June,

I almost felt guilty during last week’s trip to the coastside. While the fierce northerly winds were creating an all-consuming firestorm in the mountains south of my home, I was enjoying the soon-to-be only version of Dodge Ball allowed in our “World Gone Mild.” Only, instead of dodging the hypersonic cannonballs fired by the overgrown, sadistic lummox that every sixth grade class has, I was romping, frolicking, and cavorting as I avoided Neptune’s version of Rover, the giant balloon that corralled escapees in, “The Prisoner.”

I’m talking about Sea Foam.

For some reason I find it highly entertaining to get downwind of a large concentration of sea foam and play tag with whatever escapes and “transitorily” bounces and rolls across the sand.

For those not familiar with the phenomena, sea foam is the ephemeral product of the interaction of fierce wind and the decayed organic matter suspended in the ocean. Rotted seaweed, fish feces, and plankton are but a few of the unpleasant ingredients of this stinky, lighter then cotton candy oceanic confection. But as always, a picture is worth a thousand words.

Occasionally, Mother Nature, whips up an extra specially huge batch of this oddity and the media takes note. Here’s a sample of what, under the right conditions, impurities (salts, dead plants & fish) in the ocean, can whip up– from Australia, read this incredible story called “The Cappuccino Coast” by Richard Shears. The amazing photos of the sea filled with a gigantic wad of sea foam will shock you! For the story, click here

Enjoy John

Story & Photo by John Vonderlin
Email John ([email protected])

Found south of Half Moon Bay
Click on image for a larger picture

What is it? A big balloon with McDonald’s advertising that got away? It reads: “Try our Southern-style chicken.”

Hi June,

This was one of my finds yesterday. Before I start calling around to find its owner or former owner, as the case may be, I was wondering if the McDonald’s in Half Moon Bay is missing their’s?

Getting this monster flat enough to get into my car must have amused passing motorists on Highway one, as I had to throw myself on it, disappearing into it. I’m not sure if I’m willing to drive to HMB to return it, but maybe some local franchise will take it and ship it back. Enjoy. John

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Hi June,

Well, it took a few calls, particularly because the McDonalds managers cut me off every time they put me on hold to go check if their balloon was missing, but I was finally able to trace the origin of the giant purple balloon. It escaped from the Pacifica McDonalds. Or at least they said they were missing their’s. When I mentioned that it might take a while before I was willing to return it, as it would require $20 worth of gas and two hours of my time roundtrip to drive from Santa Clara to Pacifica , they said don’t bother, we have another one. I laughed and said, “Great, I’ll keep it as a trophy.”

Thinking about it, I’ve decided to use it as the Queen Bee of my , “The Party’s Over,” piece of Marine Debris artplay. That consists of large glass spheres packed with my collection of the remnants of thousands of balloons of every type and their ribbons, etc. that were carelessly released into the environment to foolishly celebrate various events and subsequently washed ashore.

Though this thoughtless kind of littering disturbs me only slightly, it is interesting to note that it looks like there will soon be a law outlawing the release of helium-filled mylar balloons into the Wild Blue Yonder. Apparently, their metallic nature causes several hundred short circuits of power lines in California every year. An inconsequential matter I’m sure unless you happen to be watching the finals of “American Idol,” or the Super Bowl. Enjoy. John

this fine historical book filled with illustrations of buildings and farms circa 1872. The “new” publication came out some years ago, perhaps in the 1980s, andt if you can find a copy, you’ll add a gem in your library.