Pescadero Memories

(Photo: Orril Fluharty with his grandkids.)

Kevin D. says:
Hi June,

Saw that you had posted a picture of Orril on his passing. Not sure whether you were in Pescadero today for the service … but I hope so.

I actually didn’t know the man well and met him only once, but his son and grandson built my house so had heard all about him. It was very apparent from all the wonderful stories today and the lives he’d touched that he was a special man. A man that embodied joie de vivre, un bon vivant, en un absolument charmante et geniale.

So many funny and touching stories! I hope you’ll write one or two of them up! And if you weren’t there – I believe they have them on tape. Think it would be wonderful to include some of these memories of him in your memories.
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I [June] have my own special memory of Orril Fluharty but it ‘s not easy to describe or explain. My encounter with him was not the kind that can be told in words; it can’t be captured on a page.

When I tell you my little story, it will sound ordinary when it was magical.

In the late 1960s my boyfriend worked summers at Memorial Park, picking up trash, cleaning the bathrooms, repairing things. We often brought our sleeping bags and camping equipment and slept under the scented redwood trees. During the day I explored the trails and swam in the swimming hole; it was unforgettable. Sometimes Memorial Park was full–there was no place to pitch our tent, build our campfire.

Who took us in? Orril Fluharty. He lived nearby and welcomed us warmly. We slept safely and happily on his property.

What I remember, and this is what my simple words cannot capture, I remember his height, his stature; he seemed so tall against the sky, against the day. I have never forgotten that image, that feeling that comes from somewhere else.
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[Image of Pigeon Point illustrating the primitive shipping arrangement–prior to the arrival of Messrs. Templeton, Ames and Goodall.]

By June Morrall

Loren Coburn wanted nothing more than for Templeton, Ames and Goodall to leave Pigeon Point Landing. Their ten year lease had expired and he wanted them gone. But these hardened men wouldn’t go easily. Their political instincts convinced them the County Board of Supervisors would step in and save the day.

There was the lease, a legal contract, that Coburn rightly counted on. Templeton,** Ames and Goodall apparently didn’t think much of contracts or the law. They had put money into modernizing the wharf; they, alone, had increased business. Pigeon Point Landing was now profitable; they were making money. In their minds, the wharf belonged to them.

If they weren’t going to honor the contract, Loren’s next move was to evict the tenants. Now things would turn ugly.

(Some Coburn observers believed this event triggered what would turn into a lifetime of litigation.}

The nearby village of Pescadero had not warmed up to Loren Coburn, their new resident. The villagers sympathized with the men who had fixed up the wharf. It wasn’t Coburn who had made the much needed improvements. And after all, the local economy benefited, with farmers loading their fresh produce at the well organized landing.

[Remember, before the modernization, there was a very primitive arrangement of loading and unloading goods, mail and vegetables.]

What was worse for Coburn–he didn’t pay the special school tax for a new school building–plus he complained about it to the county fathers. The villagers hated this newcomer who dressed in black swallow-tail coats, talked too fast and drove his horse and carriage recklessly. From the moment Loren Coburn set foot in town, there was an unstoppable torrent of gossip about how he got all the land he owned on the South Coast. None of it good. To everyone he was a ruthless landlord.

Right on cue, the Board of Supervisors condemned the wharf at Pigeon Point landing–and the battle began.

Two months later Loren got the State District Court in San Francisco to reverse the condemnation. The court ruled that the lands were not correctly identified, adding that the road leading there was a private road.

The only public property, according to the court, was the land accessible at high tide. This was interpreted as great news by Templeton, et. al. because much of the wharf extended out into the high tide. Now their problem became how to get to the wharf from the roads the court had defined as private.

That was soon solved. Templeton, Ames and Goodall built a gate “across the wharf, at the point where it extended 100-feet out into the high tide.” In a dramatic way, the gate disconnected the wharf from Loren’s property. At the very edge of the wharf there was an office, where John Kelly, the telegraph operator worked along with the wharfinger Alexander “Scotty” Rae. Scotty Rae’s main job was to guard the gate.

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**In July 1871 the Pigeon Point Railroad Company was established with Horace Templeton, Josiah Ames and George Hearst, the mining millionaire.

By June Morrall

As Mary Antoinette’s health began to fail, she worried about the future of her son Wally. Who would care for him should something happen to her? If you’ve forgotten, Mary Antoinette was Loren Coburn’s wife. She had a younger sister, Sarah, who promised her Mary she would care for Wally. There would be nothing to worry about.

Wally was, as they say today, “mentally challenged.” But back in the early 20th century, he was thought to be mentally retarded, and no matter how many birthdays he celebrated on his way to becoming a man, outsiders always referred to him as “the boy.”

Many years later, Loren said he was a caring father who took his son to doctor after doctor for consultations and cures. They gave him no hope for Wally’s recovery. Loren swore that he loved Wally so much he would have given up most of his wealth in return for a mentally healthy son. Although he could have boarded his son in a first class institution, he decided against the option, explaining: “There is only one place for him [Wally] and that is home. He is my son and he shall stay here and have everything he wants so long as he lives.”

The personal tragedy tested Loren’s already famous testy disposition. He became embittered, lashing out at others, gaining nothing but the hatred of many in Pescadero. He didn’t win friends by refusing to pay a special tax for a new schoolhouse in the village. To avoid the tax, he filed an official protest, winning on a technicality.

In the 1870s the Coburns left San Francisco and moved onto their ranch near Pigeon Point. They could have remained in the City, explained Loren, but “Wally would be the object of public gaze in San Francisco or San Jose. Wally is happy and content where he is. If we stayed in San Francisco, people wouldn’t understand it like the people in Pescadero, and he wouldn’t be happy.”

In Pescadero the Coburn’s hired a Chinese servant called “Ah Gee,” to watch Wally. One of Ah Gee’s duties was to feed poor Wally, who was no longer a child, at the dinner table.

“Ah Gee is kind to Wally,” said Sarah. “When Wally goes to take a nap, Gee will go and look at him, put his fingers on his temples, feel his pulse, and feel his heart, and see that everything is alright.”

Many years later, in 1909, at a court hearing, Sarah said that Wally has the freedom of the house and is not confined in any way.” By this time Loren’s wife, Mary Antoinette had passed away, and Loren married her sister, Sarah. They also had moved from the Pigeon Point ranch to a house in the village of Pescadero.

Wally “eats at the table with members of the family,” Sarah added in 1909. “He didn’t go for rides in a carriage; he is better off in a room.”

As you can imagine, from the descriptions of Wally that I have given, he was far from “normal” and because of that he actually frightened people. To be blunt, poor Wally gave people the creeps.

But back in the 1870s the Coburns were living near Pigeon Point. This gave Loren the opportunity to keep a close watch over activities at the profitable landing–remember he had leased the wharf for ten years to a small group of businessmen who began improving the property in 1862. Now it was 1872 and the lease was set to expire.

And now rumor had it that suspicious things were going on at Pigeon Point.

Who were the businessmen running the wharf? Judge Horace Templeton, Josiah P. Ames and Charles Goodall, all former San Mateo County officials. Judge Templeton also had invested in the Yazor and Gazos Mills as well as the Pacific Lumber Company. Josiah Ames was a former county supervisor who built Amesport Landing north of Half Moon Bay. Some described Ames, a pipe-smoker, as a “bold, bad man,” who was reportedly later named in a 1883 corruption case.

According to attorney Crittenden Thornton, who had known Loren Coburn since 1860, “Pigeon Point attracted the attention of an unscrupulous ring of speculators, composed of officials and ex-officials of San Mateo County. They determined to get hold of the property by hook or by crook and to use it for their own purposes.

Loren Coburn did not want to renew the lease and when it expired, Templeton, Ames and Goodall refused to give up the wharf. Using their political connections, the men petitioned the Board of Supervisors for a wharf franchise, asking for permission to use the landing for two more decades. As part of their proposal, they promised to continue modernizing the facilities. This was a very smart move, because, if approved, the power of the supervisors could possibly trump that of Coburn.

But the supervisors didn’t sign off on the wharf franchise. Instead it became clear that if Templeton, Ames and Goodall re-worked their petition, and asked the Board of Supervisors to condemn the wharf, and the surrounding five acres for the public good, they would get their new 20-year lease.

….more coming…

From the “Half Moon Bay Review,” 1957

“The county board of supervisors in a resolution will seek more State action in developing and maintaining South Coastside beaches.

“Supervisor Tom Callan pointed out that because the state beaches have been taken off the tax rolls, they are just ‘sitting there’. Alvin S. Hatch objected because the county has been forced to patrol and maintain beaches turned over to the state.

“The protest centers on, mainly, two rest rooms at the San Gregorio and Bean Hollow beaches, which were turned over by the county to the state. Although the beaches are crowded on weekends, the county manager said the rest rooms are locked because the state has not installed water tanks and lines, which would cost $4100. Stallings said the state appears to be concentrating on acquiring new areas and is lagging on the maintenance and protection programs.

“Stallings also said negotiations for the purchase of Butano forest for a state park is also lagging. More than a year has passed since money was appropriated for the purchase, he said, but so far the state has acquired only 400 acres by purchased and a small additional area by patent from the federal government.

“However Stallings plans to confer this week with state officials on the problem.”

In 1866, Loren Coburn, now a rich man, his wife, Mary Antoinette, and son, Wally, took a long postponed vacation back home to the East Coast, to visit Vermont and Massachusetts.

We don’t know where they roomed, or the specific purpose of the visit, but they liked it enough to stay for two years. Of course they met with their relatives, including Loren’s brother, Lemmuel, a successful entrepreneur who lived in Holyoke, Massachusetts. During the visit, the Coburns met Lemmuel’s son, Arzo, who was Wally’s age.

The long vacation over, the Coburns returned to California, and Loren went on a land buying spree, picking up 10,000 acres of the San Lorenzo Rancho near King City in Monterey County. He bought 1500 acres in Merced County and building lots in Fresno.

The property in Monterey County stood near the iron rails of the Southern Pacific; Loren lobbied the company for a station to be built there, and assuming a town would grow up around the depot, suggested it be called Coburn. He was turned down but not discouraged.

Although Loren didn’t own land in the village of Pescadero, he did own everything surrounding it, including beloved Pebble Beach, he said, as well as busy Pigeon Point, site of the only nearby shipping outlet.

Believing that one day soon a railroad would appear on the Coastside, he became convinced that the best place for a station would be at the tourist attraction known as Pebble Beach. And this time he would convince the railroad owners to build the station and call it “Coburnville.”

…more coming…

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

I enjoyed your Tsunami Ranger story. The video was a nice touch. Glad you enjoyed yourselves there. I would have liked to have attended, but…. so many miles and so little free time. I was able to go to the Maker-Faire for a few hours though, at the San Mateo County Fairgrounds.

So were about 25 thousand other people. It was a very interesting mix of people, especially the exhibitors. From Burning Man type artists/inventors/exhibitionists to Crafters, Geeks and Gyro Gearloose wannabees. Tim the Toolman types hawking computer controlled mills and lathes and R2-D2 rolling around emitting an impressively irritating set of squeals. Motorized Muffins were competing with a mobile, talking Electric Giraffe, and a pedal-powered trolley car for room-to-move-through in the dense, but placid crowd. I’ll attach a few pictures from it. Their website is Makerfaire.com. They’ll be back next year I’m sure.

Also, very cool, check out this “related” site called the steam punk workshop; to visit, click here

The New York Times online has a great article with photos.

A few months ago I talked with Orril Fluharty by phone. You wouldn’t think that a hard line would cut out like a mobile phone but it did. Despite the bad connection, we had a good conversation.

The reason I haven’t posted my interview with Orril is because it wasn’t really a good interview. For some reason, as I said above, my phone kept cutting out; one time the line went dead. I called him back and we picked up where we left off.

He wanted me to come down to La Honda for pancakes but I couldn’t make it in time. He talked about the town he was born in, Eureka, Montana where his family had a small farm with cattle and a five-acre garden.

“My father was an alcoholic,” he said, “and my mother was Carrie A. Nation.” Carrie Nation represented the powerful Temperance Movement, a group that abhorred strong drink. The marriage couldn’t last.

Orril loved his older sister. The fact that she was growing weaker with a serious case of asthma made him love her more. When the doctor said she had to get out of Eureka, he was the one to take her west to Washington state. He was 14 years old.

—more coming–