Author: John Patrick Sheehy

John is a history detective who digs beneath the legends, folklore, and myths to learn what’s either been hidden from the common narrative or else lost to time, in hopes of enlarging the collective understanding of our culture and communities.

Petaluma’s Most Dangerous Mayoral Candidate

Bob Brunner, left, with “Diamond Mike” Gilardi, owner of Gilardi’s Corner, 1949 (photo Sonoma County Library)

On election night, June 12, 1951, the Western Avenue Rover Boys gathered in the smoke-filled back room of Bob Brunner’s insurance office in the Mutual Relief Building. Brunner, the group’s charismatic political leader, was hoping to unseat the Petaluma’s mayor in a write-in campaign. His call for eliminating the city manager’s position and returning government to the people resonated with longtime residents concerned with the city’s sudden growth.[1]

A group of merry pranksters, the Rover Boys usually met at Andresen’s Tavern next door, but state law shuttered bars on election day, a pre-Prohibition hangover when bars served as polling stations, trading drinks for votes.[2] Awaiting election results, the Rover Boys were joined in Brunner’s backroom by their political opponents, the Kentucky Street Commandos, to bury hatchets over cocktails.

Andresen’s Tavern, left at 19 Western Avenue, with Robert E. Brunner insurance beside it at 21 Western Avenue, under the sign for John Keller Real Estate, 1951 (photo Sonoma County Library)

Given the divisiveness of the mayor’s race, no one expected the hatchets to be buried for long—Petaluma’s future hung in the balance.[3]

Developers, armed with government subsidies for returning servicemen, had descended upon the area, buying up cheap farmland east of town and building tract homes. The city’s population, which had stood at 8,000 since 1930, jumped 20% to 10,000 within four years. Plans for a new freeway east of town attracted a swarm of speculators looking to build motels, restaurants, malls and car dealerships along its exit ramps. But shadows loomed in Petaluma’s post-war progress.

City resources were being overwhelmed, with roads in disrepair, schools in double session, water and sewage plants nearing capacity.[4] Downtown merchants reliant upon through traffic on Main Street, viewed the freeway as a death knell. Likewise, Petaluma’s two economic cornerstones, the poultry and dairy industries, were beginning to be displaced by more efficient factory farms springing up around the county.

In an effort to get ahead of the curve, the city council asked voters in 1947 to adopt a city manager form of government, pointing out Petaluma was becoming too big to be managed by part-time, elected officials with their own businesses to attend to.[5] Not everyone on the council agreed.

Petaluma Mayor Jasper Woodson, manager of the Sunset Line & Twine Company, 1947 (Sonoma County Library)

Mayor Jasper Woodson, manager of the Sunset Line and Twine Company, argued the change would undermine Petaluma’s democratic form of government. City officials traditionally elected by voters—the city clerk, tax collector, treasurer, chief of police, superintendent of streets, etc.—would be hired and fired by the city manager, placing too much power in the hands of one person which was an invitation for corruption.[6]

Petaluma City hall at 4th and A streets, 1951 (photo Sonoma County Library)

Proponents of the city manager model pointed out many communities adopted it for precisely the opposite reason—to thwart the practices of dishonest politicians.[7] Petaluma citizens first attempted to do so in 1934, after the mayor and four officials were found profiting from city contracts.

The officials—Mayor Will Farrell, councilmen Ludwig Schluckebier, George Van Bebber, Chris Riewerts, and City Attorney Lewis Cromwell—admitted to committing “technical violations of the law,” but denied any criminal intent, arguing they were merely following the customary practices of past officials.[8]

Mayor Will Farrell (photo Petaluma Historical Library & Museum)

The citizens’ committee exposing their actions argued there was nothing “technical” about them. The men billed the city for goods and services under the names of their employees so as to conceal the true identities of their companies, and then approved the bills for payment as members of the city’s finance committee. The committee launched its investigation only after being stymied by the same officials in bringing charges of price gouging, sanitary violations and kickbacks against the salvage company contracted to collect the city’s garbage.[9]

The five officials quickly agreed to resign in exchange for avoiding a Sonoma County Grand Jury inquiry. A week after their resignations, they were feted at a retirement party by the “Old Guard” of businessmen who ran the city, including Woodson, then one of the remaining city councilmen.[10]

The citizens’ committee promptly petitioned the city to adopt a city manager form of government. That led to the election of a 15-member Board of Freeholders to draft a new city charter. The Old Guard succeeded in filling half of the seats on the board with allies opposed to a city manager, burying the proposal.[11]

When the referendum for a city manager resurfaced in 1947, the Rover Boys rallied to oppose it. The group initially formed in Hans Andresen’s Continental Hotel Tavern during World War II to write letters to local servicemen overseas, signing them “The Western Avenue Rover Boys.”[12] After the war, when Andresen moved his tavern to its current location at 19 Western Avenue, the Rover Boys followed, regrouping as watchdogs of city hall.

Hans Andresen behind bar at Andresen’s Tavern, 19 Western Avenue, 1958

Advocates of limited government, they worshiped former president Herbert Hoover, annually celebrating his birthday with a cake party at Andresen’s. Hoover exemplified their political philosophy by vetoing several bills providing relief to struggling Americans during the Depression, in the belief that such assistance was better handled on a local, voluntary basis.[13]

Despite the efforts of the Rover Boys, the 1947 referendum to adopt a city manager form of government narrowly passed. Going forward, Petaluma’s mayor and the city council were relegated to setting city policies and the city manager to implementing them. Recruiting qualified city managers, however, proved a challenge.[14]

The first two hires quickly departed after hitting a wall of internal resistance. By the 1951 election, the office had been vacant for eight months. Taking advantage of the vacancy, the Rover Boys succeeded in placing three referendums on the ballot designed to curb the powers of the city manager.[15] The city council, however, rejected their fourth petition calling for a vote on the city manager position itself.

To keep the issue alive, Brunner picked a proxy battle with Lee Myers, owner of the L&M Drug Store in the Masonic Building, who was running unopposed for reelection as mayor.The candidate filing deadline having passed, Brunner resorted to a write-in campaign, handing out pencils inscribed with his campaign slogan: “Use this to bring the government back to the people.”[16] For Brunner, that meant eliminating the city manager position and establishing a “strong mayor” model of governance.[17]

Mayor Lee Myers wiht Egg Queen Marilyn Coleman at Egg Bowl, 1951 (photo Sonoma County Library)

The campaign wasn’t personal—Brunner and Myers had grown up together—but it created a schism among the Old Guard, giving rise to the Kentucky Street Commandos.[18] The mild-mannered Myers struggled to compete against Brunner’s ability to command the electorate’s attention, a talent he honed as a sleight-of-hand magician with the Egg City Minstrels, a vaudeville troupe of Petaluma business owners who performed at charity benefits throughout California.[19]

On election eve, Myers was announced as the winner by 28 votes. Brunner demanded a recount, citing fraud and vote counting irregularities. After an investigation, Myers’ winning margin was increased to 32 votes. Brunner refused to accept the final count.[20]

As a consolation, the city council offered him a seat on the planning commission. Brunner declined. “That’s a political graveyard to keep me quiet and cool me down,” he told them. “It’s like making a guy vice president.”[21]

Instead, he adopted the moniker “Petaluma’s Minority Leader,” and made himself a regular disruptive figure at city council meetings, speaking out against anything he considered government intrusion. [22] He also took up black magic, holding a solo séance each Halloween to summon the spirit of Harry Houdini for support.[23]

Despite Brunner’s loss, the three amendments restricting the powers of the city manager passed. They restored management duties to the mayor and city council, including final say in all hiring and firing decisions, and demoted the city manager to chief administrator.[24]

In the fall of 1951, Ed Frank was hired as city manager. He helped to guide Petaluma through its growing pains over the next decade, making friends with Brunner along the way.[25] That didn’t stop Brunner from trying to abolish his job.

Mayor Vincent Schoeningh and City Manager Ed Frank at opening of the 1010 Freeway, 1957 (photo Sonoma County Library)

In 1953, he made another run for mayor, this time against Vincent Schoeningh, a downtown merchant backed by the Kentucky Street Commandos. Brunner accused the city manager’s office of being a money pit, despite an audit showing the office generated ten times its annual cost in savings and new revenues. Brunner lost the race by 223 votes.[26]

In 1955, he ran for a seat on the city council, again seeking to eliminate the city manager’s position. This time he lost by only 10 votes.[27] Unable to get off his maverick soapbox, he ran again for mayor in 1957 and 1961. Despite pulling as many votes as he had in previous elections, he lost both times by substantial margins, a sign new residents weren’t joining his base.[28]

In 1959, Rover Boys founder Hans Andresen died. His son Hank assumed ownership of the tavern and shifted the Rover Boys away from politics to social activities, adopting a women’s auxiliary known as the Rover Girls.[29]

Continuing his annual séances to conjure the spirit of Houdini, Brunner blamed his failure on political interference.[30] He died after a battle with cancer in 1965, leaving his insurance business to his son, Robert A. Brunner, who in 1969 fulfilled his father’s dream of being elected to the Petaluma City Council.[31]  

1969 Petaluma City Council, Councilman Robert A. Brunner seated far left, Mayor Helen Putnam at center (photo Sonoma County Library)

***************

A version of this story appeared in the Petaluma Argus-Courier, October 21, 2022.

FOOTNOTES:

[1] Bill Soberanes column, Petaluma Argus-Courier, October 30, 1960.

[2]Bill Soberanes column, Petaluma Argus-Courier, September 20, 1958; Bill Soberanes column, Petaluma Argus-Courier, August 30, 1971; “Lifting of Election Day Liquor Sales Ban Didn’t Include Bars as Polling Places,” San Pedro News-Pilot, August 27, 1969; Nichol Saraniero, “The Boozy History of Voting in Bars on Election Day,” Untapped New York, November 3, 2020. https://untappedcities.com/2020/11/03/boozy-history-voting-bars-election-day/

[3] Bill Soberanes column, Petaluma Argus-Courier, April 6, 1982.

[4] “The Cost of Local Government,” Petaluma Argus-Courier, December 19, 1949; “Double Sessions? An Empty School?” Petaluma Argus-Courier, October 18, 1950; “Measures on City Ballot,” Petaluma Argus-Courier, May 21, 1951; “Census Up in Sonoma County,” Petaluma Argus-Courier, June 30, 1951; “Sewage Line Expansion is Up to Council,” Petaluma Argus-Courier, October 5, 1951.

[5] “New Charter Ordinance Passed to Print; Mayor Expresses Opposition,” Petaluma Argus-Courier, May 21, 1946.

[6] For and Against the New Charter,” Petaluma Argus-Courier, June 2, 1947.

[7] “Antiquated,” Deas Calls Petaluma’s Charter, and Urges City Manager,” Petaluma Argus-Courier, June 12, 1946.

[8] “Irregularities Charged to City Heads,” Petaluma Argus-Courier, January 23, 1934.

[9] “Resignation of Mayor Farrell and Two Aides is Demanded,” Santa Rosa Press Democrat, January 24, 1934.

[10] “Mayor Farrell, Four Aides, Quit Office,” Santa Rosa Press Democrat, January 27, 1934; “Petaluma Citizens Honor Retiring City Officials,” Petaluma Argus-Courier, February 3, 1934.

[11] “Citizens’ Group to Petition City Council for New City Charter,” Petaluma Argus-Courier, March 13, 1934; “Ad Opposing Approving City Manager Charter,” Petaluma Argus-Courier, May 14, 1934; “Some Election Reflections,” Petaluma Argus-Courier, May 19, 1934.

[12] “So They Tell Me,” Bill Soberanes column, Petaluma Argus-Courier, March 31, 1962; Bill Soberanes column, Petaluma Argus-Courier, February 21, 1975.

[13] “Hans C. Andresen, Wife Purchase Business Building,” Petaluma Argus-Courier, March 18, 1946; “So They Tell Me,” Bill Soberanes column, Petaluma Argus-Courier, March 31, 1962; “Bill Soberanes,” Petaluma Argus-Courier, February 21, 1975; Bill Soberanes, “Camel Enters, Spices Up Local Tavern,” Petaluma Argus-Courier, January 29, 1988; Bill Soberanes, “Birthday Cake for Ex-President,” Petaluma Argus-Courier, August 10, 1970.

[14] “New Charter Carries,” Petaluma Argus-Courier, June 11, 1947; “Third City Manager Will be Hired by City Council,” Petaluma Argus-Courier, September 25, 1951.

[15] “Charter Amendments Go To Sacramento for Ratification,” Petaluma Argus-Courier, June 21, 1951;

[16] “City Manager Type of Government Here Will Be Tested in Petition,” Petaluma Argus-Courier, April 24, 1951; “Candidates for Mayor,” Petaluma Argus-Courier, June 1, 1951; “The Election Results,” Petaluma Argus-Courier, June 13, 1951.

[17] Bill Soberanes column, Petaluma Argus-Courier, August 30, 1971.

[18] “Brunner and Myers Trade Sentiments,” Petaluma Argus-Courier, July 1, 1953; Bill Soberanes column, Petaluma Argus-Courier, April 6, 1982.

[19] “Esther B. Wengren to Wed Robt. Brunner at Quiet Service,” Petaluma Argus-Courier, November 8, 1933; “So They Tell Me,” Bill Soberanes column, Petaluma Argus-Courier, October 30, 1960; March 5, 1965.

[20] “Myers Leads by 28 votes; Brunner to Contest Election,” Petaluma Argus-Courier, June 13, 1951; “Mayor Wins Over Brunner by 32 votes, Check Says,” Petaluma Argus-Courier, June 20, 1951; “Guftason Quits Council,” Petaluma Argus-Courier, March 5, 1963.

[21] “Brunner Doesn’t Choose to Accept,” Petaluma Argus-Courier, May 17, 1954.

[22] “Myers Leads by 28 votes; Brunner to Contest Election,” Petaluma Argus-Courier, June 13, 1951; “Mayor Wins Over Brunner by 32 votes, Check Says,” Petaluma Argus-Courier, June 20, 1951; “Guftason Quits Council,” Petaluma Argus-Courier, March 5, 1963.

[23] “So They Tell Me,” Bill Soberanes column, Petaluma Argus-Courier, October 30, 1960, March 5, 1965.

[24] “Charter Amendments Go To Sacramento for Ratification,” Petaluma Argus-Courier, June 21, 1951.

[25] “New City Manager,” Petaluma Argus-Courier, December 20, 1951; “So They Tell Me,” Bill Soberanes column, Petaluma Argus Courier, March 7, 1960; Bill Soberanes column, Petaluma Argus-Courier, August 30, 1971.

[26] Mayor Candidate Levels Criticism,” Petaluma Argus-Courier, May 25, 1953; “The Real Facts and Figures,” Petaluma Argus-Courier, June 6, 1953; “Schoeningh is Elected Mayor,” Petaluma Argus-Courier, June 10, 1953.

[27] “King Wins Council Seat by 10 Votes,” Petaluma Argus-Courier, June 21, 1955.

[28] “Brunner Files for Mayor,” Petaluma Argus-Courier, April 19, 1961. “June 13 Candidates Tell Their Views,” Petaluma Argus-Courier, June 2, 1961; “Sixteen Candidates to Choose From,” Petaluma Argus-Courier, June 10, 1961.

[29] “So They Tell Me,” Bill Soberanes column, Petaluma Argus-Courier, December 24, 1957, June 24, 1959, June 19, 1960; Bill Soberanes column, Petaluma Argus-Courier February 21, 1975.

[30] “Esther B. Wengren to Wed Robt. Brunner at Quiet Service,” Petaluma Argus-Courier, November 8, 1933; “So They Tell Me,” Bill Soberanes column, Petaluma Argus-Courier, October 30, 1960; March 5, 1965.

[31]“So They Tell Me,” Bill Soberanes column, Petaluma Argus-Courier, May 10, 1965; “Putnam Wins, Bonds Lose,” Petaluma Argus-Courier, June 11, 1969.

The Phoenix Building

A snapshot history of the Phoenix Building at 143-145 Petaluma Blvd. North

1857 photo of the Phoenix Building, est. 1855, rebuilt in 1856 (photo Sonoma County Library)

In 1855, architect Angus McKay and contractor Heber Gowen erected Petaluma’s first brick, fireproof building, the two-story Gowen Building. It was a welcome innovation at the time, given that the rest of the buildings in town were constructed of wood, and prone to fires.[i]

The Gowen Building stood for only a year before it collapsed in the middle of the night, the result of an excavation being undertaken on the adjacent for a new building being built by McKay and a new physician in town,  William Wells.[ii]

Wells and McKay then combined the two lots and constructed a larger, three story brick building—the town’s first skyscraper—in the same style McKay had designed for the Gowen Building. McKay dressed the front wall in freestone from the Roblar Quarry north of town, and covered the roof with asphalt composition, making the building completely fireproof.[iii]

They named it the Phoenix Building (then spelled “Phenix”), in reference to its rising from the ashes.

The four stores initially occupying the bottom floor were S.C. Haydon’s Book Store, Bernhard & Co. Dry Goods, L. Boardman’s Hardware, and S.H. Wagener’s Drug Store. The second floor was occupied by the Metropolitan Billiard Room and handful of professional offices, including that of Dr. Wells. The third floor held three large halls occupied by the Masons, Odd Fellows, and Sons of Temperance.[iv]

1917 photo of the Phoenix Building (with Coca-Cola sign), built 1856 (photo Petaluma Historical Library & Museum)

Over the years the Phoenix Building hosted a rotation of clients until 1928, when George P. McNear, the city’s largest property owner, purchased the building and razed it. In its placed he hired architect Walter Singleton, who also built the Petaluma Co-operative Creamery on Western Avenue, to design a modern new building for two specific chain stores: the F.W. Woolworth, the five-and-dime store, and Piggly Wiggly, the first self-service grocery. McNear retained Phoenix as the name of the Building.[v]

1954 photo of the Phoenix Building (photo Sonoma County Library)

In 1933, Piggly Wiggly moved out, and Woolworths expanded into the full building. They remained there until 1971, when foot traffic on Petaluma Boulevard began to be drawn away by the new malls opening along the freeway on the rapidly expanding east side of town.[vi]

For the next forty years, the building was occupied by a range of merchants, extending from the Wide World of Shoes, Teddies Discount Party Goods, the Shoe Fair, Chanticleer Antiques, the Pelican Art Gallery, and the Pick of the Litter Thrift Store.

Bliss Bridal & Black Tie has occupied the north end of the building since 2013, and Della Fattoria Bakery the south end since 2016.

2022 photo of the Phoenix Building (photo courtesy of Scott Hess)

FOOTNOTES:

[i] “Fall of a Building,” Sonoma County Journal, August 9, 1856

[ii] Adair Heig, History of Petaluma: A California River Town (Scottwall Associates, Petaluma, CA, 1982), pp. 63-64; Ad for William R. Wells physician in Gowan Building before the collapse, Sonoma County Journal, June 21, 1856.

[iii] Heig, 63-64; “Phenix Block,” Sonoma County Journal, July 31, 1857; “Old Business Block,” Petaluma Argus-Courier, May 9, 1941.

[iv] “Phenix Block,” Sonoma County Journal, July 31, 1857.

[v] “Phoenix Block to Be Razed to Erect Fine New Building,” Petaluma Argus-Courier, August 23, 1928; “Walter Singleton to Erect McNear Building,” Petaluma Argus-Courier, December 10, 1928; “The Woolworth Store Opening,” Petaluma Argus-Courier, April 30, 1929; Piggly Wiggly Ad, Petaluma Argus-Courier, May 31, 1929.

[vi] “Local News Paragraphs,” Petaluma Argus-Courier, December 12, 1933; “Local Woolworth Store Will Close,” Petaluma Argus-Courier, April 3, 1971.

The American Hotel


A snapshot history of 129-133 Petaluma Blvd. North (current day Putnam Plaza)

1869 photo of 4th of July celebration outside the American Hotel (behind livery sign), in its second incarnation (photo Petlauma Historical Library & Museum)

The American Hotel was one of Petaluma’s first hotels, established in 1852 by Robert Douglass, Jr., who hired an English contractor named Charles Blackburn (the town’s future undertaker) to build it. It’s location was initially regarded as “well up town.”[i]

As the town grew up around it, it came to be the anchor of central Main Street, where it served as a landmark for more than a century, although not always in the same form.

Illustration of American Hotel built in 1852 (courtesy Petaluma Historical Library & Museum)

In 1868, a fire burned down Douglass’ original wood-framed building constructed by Blackburn. In its place, Blackburn constructed a three-story fireproof building of brick. Four years later, it’s insides were also consumed by fire. Blackburn’s third and final restoration of the hotel opened in 1874.[ii]

Designed with a simple Gothic front, its three stories offered 100 rooms, a dining hall that seated 80, a well-stocked bar, a billiards room, a barber shop, and sample rooms where “drummers,” or traveling salesmen, could display their wares. Free shuttled service was provided to the train station and steamer landing.[iii]

Lobby of the American Hotel, 1912 (photo Sonoma County Library)

For those traveling by horse or carriage, the American Livery was housed at the back of the hotel, in the basement floor of a building on the other side of American Alley (today’s Big Easy Music Club). A covered passage was provided to protect lady customers from rainy weather while crossing the alley to the hotel.[iv]  

American Hotel undergoing a paint job in 1941 (photo Sonoma County Library)

Up through the 1940s, the American advertised itself as a first class hotel, with a café, and a small dance hall with live music.[v] It’s two storefronts were occupied by The Tropics, a popular night club, and the Dairy Bar, a café and ice cream parlor.[vi]

In the 1950s, as the hotel transitioned like other old hotels in town to serving as a residential hotel for low-income tenants, its two storefronts came to be occupied by Lombardi’s Men’s Store and Lucille’s Apparel.[vii]

American Hotel, 1951 (photo Sonoma County Library)

In 1966, the building was condemned by the city of Petaluma as part of its urban renewal initiative, on the grounds that a hairline crack had been discovered on its north wall. A month after the hotel’s demolition, the city expanded its new Golden Concourse through the empty lot, connecting the Keller Street parking lot with Petaluma Boulevard.[viii]

The lot sat vacant for 20 years until the city decided in 1987 to make it a pocket park in memory of the recently deceased former city mayor, Helen Putnam. Putnam Park was designed by local architect Dick Lieb.[ix]

Putnam Plaza, 2022 (photo courtesy of Scott Hess)

FOOTNOTES:

[i] [1] J.P. Munro Fraser, History of Sonoma County (University of Wisconsin, 1880) pgs. 260, 487; Munro-Fraser interviewed Douglass for his history of the town (“Our County’s History,” Petaluma Courier, August 13, 1870); “Summoned Home: Death of Charles Blackburn,” Petaluma Courier, November 27, 1897; George P. Williams,” Petaluma Courier, October 19, 1899; “A Chapter of Tragedies,” Petaluma Courier, August 21, 1901; “Were Welcome Visitors Here on Thursday,” Petaluma Argus-Courier, February 3, 1927; “Douglas Came in ’50,” Petaluma Argus-Courier, August 17, 1955; Note: Adair Heig’s book, History of Petaluma: A California River Town (Scottwall Associates, 1982), p. 58, cites George B. Williams as the builder of the American Hotel. That is not supported by Munro-Fraser, nor listed in Williams’ obituary nor that of Douglass’ wife, which cite Douglass as the builder. Munro-Fraser interviewed Douglass for his history of the town (“Our County’s History,” Petaluma Courier, August 16, 1879).

[ii] “Summoned Home,” Petaluma Courier, November 27, 1897.

[iii] Ad, Petaluma Argus, April 29, 1869; Bill Soberanes, “American Hotel Landmark to Vanish,” Petaluma Argus-Courier, April 20, 1966.

[iv] Ad for American Livery Stables, Petaluma Courier, February 8, 1888.

[v] Ad, Petaluma Courier, April 29, 1934; “Dancing Hall to be Attraction at American Hotel,” Petaluma Argus-Courier, May 10, 1934; Ad, Petaluma Argus-Courier, June 14, 1934; Ad, Petaluma Argus-Courier, January 12, 1940.

[vi] “Dairy Bar in Expansion,” Petaluma Argus-Courier, Mary 23, 1944 “Intended Sale of ‘The Tropics’ is Recorded,” Petaluma Argus-Courier, February 21, 1947.

[vii] “Men’s Clothing Store to Open in Hotel,” Petaluma Argus-Courier, February 20, 1948; “Many at Formal Opening of Lucille’s Apparel,” Petaluma Argus-Courier, October 18, 1951; Bill Soberanes, “American Hotel Landmark to Vanish,” Petaluma Argus-Courier, April 20, 1966.

[viii] “Council Orders Demolition of American Hotel,” Petaluma Argus-Courier, May 12, 1966; “Blacktop Strip for Concourse,” Petaluma Argus-Courier, September 1, 1966.

[ix] “Putnam Plaza Plans,” Petaluma Argus-Courier, June 9, 1987; “Putnam Plaza Complete; Dedication Set,” Petaluma Argus-Courier, December 23 1987.

The Man Who Dredged the World

Alphonzo B. Bowers, painting by H. Raschen, Overland Monthly, Vol. 44, December 1904, p. 587 (public domain)

In 1853, Alphonzo Bowers boarded a steamer bound for California in hopes of restoring his health. Plagued by obsessive tendencies, the 23-year old was mentally overworked. Three days shy of his destination, he was robbed of all his money while asleep in his berth. Upon disembarking in San Francisco, he discovered a dime in his vest pocket. In a gesture of his go-for-broke nature, he flipped it into the bay, and set off for the gold mines. Two months later, he returned with a bad case of sunstroke, still penniless.1

The scenario repeated itself over the coming decades. Compulsively drawn to big dreams, Bowers pushed himself to the point of physical exhaustion, only to end up empty-handed and buried beneath a mountain of debt.

Then, just as most friends had written him off as a seedy, obsessive crank, he hit pay dirt.

In a victory hailed as a “glorious triumph of nerve, patient industry, indomitable will, and heroism,” Bowers came into sudden wealth, and found himself anointed with Luther Burbank as one of Sonoma County’s genius inventors.2

1855 Map of Petaluma (Sonoma County Library)

The path to Bowers’  began in Petaluma. After his retreat from the gold mines, he found employment as founding principal of town’s first common school.3 Among the most fertile and ingenious minds the town had seen, Bowers distinguished himself as a wonderful and magnetic teacher, able to get the best work out of his pupils. In appreciation, students voted to name the rickety, one-room schoolhouse at Fifth and B streets after him.4

But Bowers’ restless nature got the better of him. In 1856, as a side business, he and the school’s sewing teacher opened a millinery store, leading to bankruptcy within a year.5 Two years later, the newly incorporated city of Petaluma imposed a tax for funding construction of a new schoolhouse on the site of the dilapidated Bowers School.

Petaluma’s Brick School at the corner of B and 4th streets, which replaced the Bowers School built in 1859 (photo Sonoma County Library)

Bowers took the opportunity to resign as principal and open an office as a surveyor, topographer, and civil engineer.6

Surveyors were in high demand at the time. The California Land Commission had just completed its ownership assessments of the county’s 24 Mexican land grants, and the land grant owners—most of them American speculators by that time—were busy subdividing their holdings in sales to land-hungry farmers pouring into the county.7

Bowers lacked formal training in engineering, but growing up in Maine he was known as a mechanical savant, able to fix any machine in his father’s mills. By the age of 16 he had designed and constructed his first dam.8 He spent only a few months surveying in the field before becoming obsessed with the idea of creating the first topographical farm map of Sonoma County.9

Ad in Petaluma Argus newspaper, 1859

For funding, Bowers relied upon commissions form land grant owners. The frenzied pace of subdivisions however turned the map project into a time-consuming quagmire, requiring frequent revisions and driving Bowers $15,000 ($435,000 in today’s currency) into debt. Having finally exhausted all his lines of credit, in 1863 he suspended work on the map and asked the county Board of Supervisors for $5,000 as a commission on 20 copies of the map.10

In support of his request, Bowers submitted a petition to the supervisors signed by nearly 900 prominent citizens, as well as endorsements from the county assessors, who were anxious to use the map as a means of accurately assessing farm boundaries for taxes. They expected it would generate many times its commission price in increased tax dollars.11

That prospect troubled some large landowners, who filed a legal challenge, arguing the commissioning of such a map lay with the state, not the county. The challenge came at the height of the Civil War, which split Sonoma County into two political camps—pro-Confederate Democrats in Santa Rosa and pro-Union Republicans in Petaluma. Bowers’ own political leanings as an abolitionist and a member of the Republican state central committee were well known. In 1862, he made an unsuccessful run for state surveyor on the Republican ticket.12

Bowers responded to the legal challenge by lobbying the state legislature to pass the Bowers Map Bill, authorizing the county to commission the map.13 The matter then went to the Sonoma County grand jury, which argued the map bill was a grievous overreach by Union legislators seeking to impose their will upon the county. They urged the Democratic-dominated Board of Supervisors to disregard Bowers’ requests for payment, which they repeatedly did.14

In order to earn the money to finish the map, Bowers took a state position as a Deputy Surveyor General, traveling around the state. He made frequent trips to Petaluma to finish his county map as well as pressing his case with the county for the $5,000 commission.15

In 1866, Bowers released his topographical map of Sonoma County, printing 500 copies and offering them for sale to private landowners. He also donated copies to libraries and schools, and delivered 20 copies to county officials, billing the Board of Supervisors $5,000.16

Bowers’ Map of Sonoma County, Second Edition, 1867 (courtesy of David Rumsey Map Collection)

County assessors were able to immediately generate an additional $8,000 in property taxes by using Bowers’ map to determine that 16,859 acres of Knights Valley were actually located in Sonoma County and not Napa County, as previously assumed. Still, supervisors refused to pay Bowers, the vote coming down to party lines.17

Bowers sued the county for payment in a case that ultimately made its way to the U.S. Supreme Court, who decided in the county’s favor, ruling that the state legislature’s Bowers Map Bill did not impose a mandatory decision upon the county.18

Bowers refused to let the matter drop. In 1867, he published an 80-page booklet, “The History of the A.B. Bowers Map,” detailing the supervisors’ tawdry treatment of him.19 For years afterward he lobbied the state legislature to wage an investigation into the county’s handling of his request, finally succeeding in 1874 in convincing the state senate to pass such a bill, only to see Sonoma County Democrats kill it in the state assembly.20

Although his campaign against the county placed him deeper in debt, the studious Bowers received an education in the legal and legislative system that proved invaluable in his next obsessive pursuit—dredging up muck.

During the years he spent surveying Sonoma County, Bowers became intimately familiar with the Petaluma tidal slough and its adjacent wetlands extending north from San Pablo Bay. Known as the Petaluma Creek until 1959, when Congress formally renamed it the Petaluma River, the slough was Sonoma County’s primary means of transporting goods to and from the docks of San Francisco.21

1860 U.S. Coast Survey of Petaluma Creek (courtesy of Petaluma Historical Hydrology & Ecology Study)

California, which had been granted ownership of unsold federal marshes along the state’s waterways, began selling off wetlands on both sides of the Petaluma slough, on the condition the land be diked, drained, and reclaimed for farming or grazing so as to generate tax revenues.22

The subsequent elimination of wetlands, along with the rechanneling freshwater tributaries feeding into the slough, posed an increasing problem for using the slough as a commercial waterway. During rainy seasons, sediment from farm fields flowed into the slough, trapping ships in its muddy grasp and contributing to flooding at high tide.23 Dredging suddenly became critical to Sonoma County’s main waterway.

Dredging in the 1860s was conducted by a “steam paddies.” These were named for Irish laborers (nicknamed paddies). They, along with Chinese laborers, previously conducted California dredging by hand. The steam paddy used a clamshell or bucket to scoop up the muck and dump it into barges, to be carried away to a spoils site.24

One morning in 1864, over breakfast, Bowers had a vision of a new type of steam dredger, one that operated on hydraulics. He quickly sketched it out on a piece of paper.25 Bowers’ dredger used a rotary blade to cut up the hardened debris at the bottom of a waterway or marsh, then sucked that debris up in a long pipe that floated on the water for thousands of yards to a spoils area, where it could be used for building levees or landfill.

Illustration of Bowers hydraulic dredger published Overland Monthly 44, Dec 1904

Despite being bankrupted by his mapping venture, three years later Bowers quit his job with surveyor general’s office to perfect a model of his dredging machine, moving between San Francisco and Petaluma, where he unveiled his first prototype in 1869. To finance it, he borrowed money and took the odd surveying job, including appointment to a board of engineers charged with remodeling the Mare Island Navy Yard in 1873.26

Drawing of Bowers’ Hydraulic Dredger, 1887 (Sonoma County Library)

The U.S. Patent Office delayed processing of Bowers’ patent applications for several years. As he could not afford an attorney, he began his own study of patent laws, traveling to Washington, D.C. by train to secure his patents. Between 1884 and 1888, he was successful in obtaining 12 invention patents related to the dredger.27

By that time, rich and powerful dredging companies were building and selling hydraulic dredgers based upon Bowers’ model, making small modifications to claim them as their own. After receiving his first patent in 1884, Bowers brought lawsuits against more than a dozen dredging firms across the country.

In 1888, he won a major infringement suit against Colonel A. W. Von Schmidt of Oakland, setting a precedent that would decide his other lawsuits. The wealthy Von Schmidt tied the case up in appeals until 1897, when the district appeals court ruled in Bowers’ favor, awarding him a virtual monopoly of the hydraulic dredging machine business.28

A.W. Von Schmidt’s version of Bowers’ dredging machine, 1884 (courtesy of U.C. Berkeley, Bancroft Library)

By that time, 25 companies were using Bowers’ patented design for dredgers being sold around the world for $40,000 each ($1.4 million in today’s currency). Bowers sued them for royalties retroactive in some cases to the early 1870s. It was speculated Bowers stood to reap between $6 million and $15 million dollars ($200 million to $500 million in today’s currency).29

“The Midas touch of his genius,” wrote the Sonoma Democrat, “at last turns his ideas, wrought out in want and misery, into gold upon his bands.”30

A lifelong bachelor, the 67-year-old Bowers remained based in San Francisco, where he launched his own dredging company. He spent most of the next two decades traveling across the country as well as to Europe, Russia, Japan, China, the Philippines, and Cuba to consult on major dredging projects as one of the most respected civil engineers in the world.

Painting of Alphonzo B. Bowers by Stephen William Shaw, Overland Monthly, Vol. 29, February 1904, p. 116 (public domain)

He also established a reputation as something of a Renaissance man, giving talks and writing for a range of American and European journals on a range of topics, including politics, economics, sociology, religion, and poetry. In his spare time, he used his fortune to design and erect both public and private buildings.31

Bowers last visited Petaluma in 1905. Despite his wealth and fame, he still felt slighted by the county’s refusal to pay him for his Sonoma County map.32 In his eighties, he retired back in New England, where he continued to wage patent infringement battles and write articles for journals until his death in 1926 at the age of 96.33

******

A version of this story appeared the Sonoma Historian, Fall 2022.

FOOTNOTES:

[1] William Walsh, “The Story of an Inventor,” Overland Monthly, January-June, 1897, pp. 166-179.

https://www.google.com/books/edition/The_Overland_Monthly/XA9IAQAAMAAJ?hl=en&gbpv=1&dq=history+of+hydraulic+dredging+machine+bowers&pg=PA172&printsec=frontcover

[2] “A Pioneers Visit,” Petaluma Courier, March 4, 1905; “A Bit of Local History,” Sonoma Democrat, January 16, 1897; “Great Future for San Pedro,” Los Angeles Times, September 25, 1908; Modern San Francisco 1907-1908 (Western Press Association, University of California, 1908).

[3] Walsh, pp. 166-179; “Petaluma Library Association,” Sonoma County Journal, December 1, 1855.

[4] “Bowers School,” Sonoma County Journal, October 6, 1855 “To the Public,” Sonoma County Journal, October 30, 1857; “Early History of Our Schools,” Argus, April 13, 1922.

[5] Ad, Sonoma County Journal, April 19, 1856; “Notice,” Sonoma County Journal, February 6, 1857.

[6] Ad, Sonoma County Journal, December 24, 1858; Ad, Petaluma Argus, February 12, 1861.

[7] James Gerber, “The Gold Rush Origins of California’s Wheat Economy,” http://www.scielo.org.mx/scielo.php?script=sci_arttext&pid=S1405-225320100002000; Petaluma Valley Historical Hydrology and Ecology Study.” SFEI Contribution No. 861, 2018. https://www.sfei.org/documents/petaluma-valley-historical-hydrology-andecology-study.

[8] Walsh, pp. 166-179.

[9] “A Valuable Map,” Sonoma County Journal, April 8, 1859.

[10] “Bowers Map Bill,” Petaluma Argus, May 20, 1863; Walsh, pp. 166-179.

[11] “The Other Side,” Sonoma Democrat, May 16, 1863.

[12] Republican State Convention,” Sacramento Daily Bee, June 20, 1861; “Proceedings of the Republican County Convention, Petaluma Argus, June 11, 1861.

[13] “To the Supervisors and People of Sonoma County,” Petaluma Argus, May 23, 1863.

[14] “Lacked the Power,” Petaluma Argus, February 11, 1863; “The Other Side,” Sonoma Democrat, May 16, 1863 “Grand Jury Report,” Sonoma Democrat, May 16, 1863; “Bowers Map Bill,” Petaluma Argus, May 20, 1863; “Constitution Answered,” Sonoma Democrat, December 8, 1866; “Rare Logic,” Petaluma Argus, February 14, 1867.

[15] Strategy, My Boy,” The Placer Herald, June 11, 1863; “Personal,” Petaluma Argus, November 3, 1864; “Alphonzo B. Bowers,” New York Times, January 25, 1926.

[16] “County Map,” Petaluma Argus, November 15, 1866; “Constitution Answered,” Sonoma Democrat, December 8, 1866; “Among Us Again,” Sonoma Democrat, April 19, 1873.

[17] “Bowers Map of Sonoma County,” Petaluma Argus, December 13, 1866; “County Map,” Petaluma Argus, November 15, 1866; Ad, Petaluma Argus, August 23, 1866; “Bowers Map,” Sonoma Democrat, November 17, 1866; No headline, Argus, February 7, 1867; “Reply to Jess O. Squires,” Petaluma Argus, December 27, 1866; “Rare Logic,” Petaluma Argus, February 14, 1867.

[18] “Our Santa Rosa Correspondence,” Petaluma Argus, December 20, 1866; “Bowers Map,” Sonoma Democrat, February 2, 1867; “Bowers Map Bill,” Sonoma Democrat, March 25, 1876.

[19] Alphonzo B. Bowers papers, 1657-1926, San Francisco Maritime National Historical Park, Online Archive of California.

[20] “Local Brevities,” Petaluma Argus, April 3, 1874; “Bowers Map Bill,” Sonoma Democrat, March 25, 1876.

[21] “Petaluma Creek,” Petaluma Argus, December 5, 1879; Gerber.

[22] “Wetlands in the North Bay Planning Area,” San Francisco Bay Conservation and Development Commission, February, 1997, pgs. 7, 28. http://www.bcdc.ca.gov/planning/reports/WetlandsInTheNorthBayPlanningArea_Feb1997.pdf

[23] Petaluma Valley Historical Hydrology and Ecology Study.” SFEI Contribution No. 861, 2018. https://www.sfei.org/documents/petaluma-valley-historical-hydrology-andecology-study.

[24] Steam Paddy used on Petaluma Creek: “Straightening the Creek,” Petaluma Argus, February 11, 1862; David D. Schmidt, “David Hewes and His Steam Paddy Work,”www.foundSF.com. https://www.foundsf.org/index.php?title=David_Hewes_and_His_Steam_Paddy_Works

[25] “Bowers School,” Sonoma County Journal: November 3, 1855 (article notes that Bowers School was beginning its fourth term, implying the school opened in 1854, there being four terms a year then); “Our Common Schools,” Sonoma County Journal, December 18, 1857; “Our Public Schools,” Sonoma County Journal, December 28, 1860; Walsh, pp. 166-179.

[26] Walsh, pp. 166-179; Ad “Lost,” Petaluma Argus, December 4, 1869; Personal,” Petaluma Argus, June 13, 1879.

[27] A.B. Bowers Dredging Machine, patented August 21, 1888. https://patents.google.com/patent/US388253; Federal Reporter, Vol. 91: Bowers applied for patent in 1885; first patent issued on December 26, 1886; “Pacific Coast Patents,” Petaluma Argus, June 18, 1887, September 8, 1888; A Guide to the Alphonzo B. Bowers Papers, San Francisco Maritime National Historical Park, National Park Service, Online Archive of California

https://oac.cdlib.org/findaid/ark:/13030/kt1m3nf2t3/entire_text/

[28] A Guide to the Alphonzo B. Bowers Papers; “Agricultural Items,” Petaluma Argus, September 22, 1876; Washington Davis, “Hydraulic Dredger: A peculiar Story,” Overland Monthly, Volume 44, December 1904, pp. 587-592.

[29] “Millions for an Ex-Petaluman,” Petaluma Argus, January 5, 1897; “The Bowers Dredger,” Petaluma Courier, April 6, 1897; “Bowers Brings Suit,” Petaluma Courier, November 27, 1908.

[30] “A Bit of Local History,” Sonoma Democrat, January 16, 1897.

[31] “A Pioneer’s Visit,” Petaluma Courier, March 4, 1905; “Great Future for San Pedro,” Los Angeles Times, September 25, 1908; Modern San Francisco 1907-1908 (Western Press Association, University of California, 1908).

[32] “Visit Here After Years,” Petaluma Argus, March 4, 1905.

[33] A Guide to the Alphonzo B. Bowers Papers; “Agricultural Items,” Petaluma Argus, September 22, 1876; “Alphonzo B. Bowers,” New York Times, January 25, 1926.

Petaluma’s Birth in a Devil’s Playground

Heman Bassett, 1870s (photo Philadelphia Studios, courtesy of Kay Bassett)

Heman Bassett arrived in Petaluma in the fall of 1852 in search of redemption. An excommunicated Mormon elder cast “into the buffeting hands of Satan,” Bassett and his family set out across the county in an ox-drawn wagon to settle among some of the people who had earlier persecuted him for his beliefs, among them Petaluma’s founder, George H. Keller.[1]

A failed gold miner from Missouri, Keller had created Petaluma just months before, making an illegal squatter’s claim to 158 acres of a 13,000-acre Mexican land grant called Rancho Arroyo de San Antonio. After platting out the town on 40 acres, he began selling off lots from a makeshift general store he erected beside the Petaluma River on Washington Street.[2]

By the time Bassett arrived with his wife and five children, the new town was bustling with activity. Sailing scows laden with potatoes, meat, and grains plied the river to San Francisco. New settlers had erected fifty new homes of rough-hewn redwood. Main Street, laid out by Keller along a former Coast Miwok trading route, hosted a general store, a blacksmith, and three hotels.[3]

Petlauma House (from 1857 map of Petlauma, Petaluma Historical Library & Museum)

One of the hotels, the Petaluma House, located at the site of today’s Odd Fellows Lodge, was for sale. Bassett decided to put a stake down and buy it.

Situated across from the river docks where boatloads of aspiring settlers disembarked, the Petaluma House welcomed overnight guests, many looking to catch the morning stage bound for Bloomfield or Santa Rosa’s Green Valley to cash in on the potato boom, and those seeking temporary living quarters until they got established as tradesmen or merchants in town.[4]

A number hailed, like Keller, from Missouri, in fact, 20% of the 560 settlers counted in the 1850 Sonoma County census. They were most likely drawn by word of the area’s rich farmlands and mild climate from Lilburn Boggs, Missouri’s former governor.

Lilburn Boggs (photo courtesy of Missouri Historical Society)

Boggs emigrated to California with his family in 1846, after losing his merchant business in an economic depression, and also surviving a shot in the head from an alleged Mormon assassin.[5] Initially taken in by General Vallejo at the Petaluma Adobe, he settled in the town of Sonoma, where he opened up a dry goods store and became alcalde, or judicial and administrative officer, for Mexico’s Northern California territory. After the Mexican-American War, he dealt in real estate before being elected to the state assembly.[6]

Bassett knew Boggs from his own time in Missouri. He had moved to Jackson County, Missouri in the early 1830s with Joseph Smith, Jr., founder of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, after Smith received a revelation it was the New Jerusalem where the Second Coming of Christ would soon occur.

Just a teenager when he first met Smith, Bassett was living in a Christian socialist commune called “The Family” outside Kirtland, Ohio. Smith was accompanied by a group of missionaries on their way to proselytize among American Indians, who they believed to be descendants of the Israelites.[7]

Etching of “The Family” commune outside Kirtland, Ohio (illustration Brigham Young University)

Soon after being baptized in Smith’s new church, Bassett had a vision of being called into the world to preach. Ordained a Mormon elder at 17, he worked the circuit of Mormon revival meetings dressed as a Native American speaking in tongues. His zealous, enraptured style was described as “that of a baboon.”[8] While preparing to accompany Smith to Missouri, Bassett was called out as “a false spirit.”[9]

“Heman Bassett,” Smith told him, “you sit still. The devil wants to sift you.”[10]

Joseph Smith, Jr. (photo courtesy of Dan Larsen, Desert News)

Part of that sifting may have been the watch Bassett took from a Mormon brother and sold. When confronted, Bassett cited the code of community property practiced in the commune. “Oh,” he said, “I thought it was all in The Family.”[11]

Bassett was denied missionary status, but still accompanied Smith to Jackson County in western Missouri, home to Boggs, then a state senator. The influx of Mormons quickly upset the social hierarchy of older settlers in the area, including Keller, who lived in nearby Platte County. They took issue with the Mormons’ abolitionism (Missouri was a slave state), their ecstatic performances dressed as American Indians and speaking in tongues, and their fervent belief they were to inherit the land of their enemies in Jackson County.[12]

Within a short time, Smith and his followers were driven from the county to parts of northwest Missouri, where tensions with locals continued to mount, finally culminating in the Missouri Mormon War of 1838. At the height of the war, Governor Lilburn Boggs sent 2,500 militiamen to eject all Mormons from the state,signing an executive order calling for their extermination should they refuse to leave.[13]

Missouri Mormon War of 1838 (photo Mormon Musings)

Forcibly driven from their homes, which were then plundered and destroyed, along with their crops and livestock, a number of Mormons died violently or from the hardship of the exodus.[14]

Bassett, along with 10,000 others, fled to Illinois, where Smith set up his new headquarters in the town of Nauvoo. After a new Mormon majority elected him mayor, the local newspaper accused Smith of polygamy. He responded by having the newspaper shut down, for which he was arrested and incarcerated. While awaiting trial, a mob stormed the jail and killed him.[15]

After Smith’s death, the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints split into two camps, one headed by Brigham Young, the other by James Strang. Bassett sided with the Strangites, joining them at their headquarters in Racine, Wisconsin, where he served as an elder until 1850, when he was excommunicated for his rebellious ways.

Bassett, his wife Mary and their four children set out across the plains for California, stopping in Washoe County for Mary’s birthing of their fifth child. When they arrived in Petaluma, they found Keller and others engaged in California’s new gold rush: land speculation.[16] There was just one hitch—the land wasn’t for sale.

Squatting had become common in the American West thanks to the Preemption Act of 1841, which entitled a squatter to purchase 160 acres in the public domain, after inhabiting the land for 14 months or making improvements to it for five years.[17] But in California, aspiring settlers discovered that most of the land coveted for farming or ranching was privately held in Mexican land grants, protected by the Treaty of Hidalgo that ended the Mexican-American War in 1848.

Due to the laissez-faire legal system on the Mexican frontier, many grants were sketchy, incomplete or, in some cases, fraudulent.[18] In 1851, squatter advocates pushed through Congress the California Land Act, subjecting all Mexican land grant claims to legal review by an appointed Land Commission. Ostensibly created to bring clarity to the legal morass, the act effectively put the grants into play, opening the door to a host of American swindlers and land sharks.[19]

That included Keller, who, with the support of frustrated settlers, made his squatter’s claim to the town of Petaluma.[20] Despite the fact the claim had no legal bearing, his property sales were recorded by Sonoma County’s first recorder of deeds, William Boggs, son of State Assemblyman Lilburn Boggs.[21] 

William Boggs, 1870s (photo Sonoma County Library)

So began the Petaluma land scam, giving birth to one of California’s longest and most contested land grant disputes. Fueled by greed, exploitation, bribery, and fraud, it was a devil’s playground, one that placed Petaluma landowners in legal jeopardy for the next two decades.

Keller’s initial plat extended from the river west to Liberty Street, and from Oak Street south to A Street. In 1853, he sold off a large portion of his remaining claim to Columbus Tustin, an ambitious 26-year old from Illinois, who undertook the first extension of Keller’s development, creating a subdivision called Tustin’s Addition that ran from First to Eighth streets, and A to F streets.[22]

Stricken with money fever, Bassett purchased 40 undeveloped acres from Keller just before he departed town with his spoils for Missouri. Bassett’s Addition extended from Howard Street west to Fair Street, and from Stanley Street south to A Street, with Bassett Street laid out down the middle, adjacent to a large plaza (today’s city hall). Bassett began selling lots from his hotel on Main Street.[23]

Map of Petlauma, Thomas H. Thompson, 1877, Bassett’s Addition at lower left (public domain)
Bassett’s Addition, Map of Petaluma, Thos. Thompson, 1877 (public domain)

In June 1855, the party ended when the Land Commission confirmed the claim of James Stuart, a San Francisco speculator, to the 13,000-acre Rancho Arroyo de San Antonio. Another speculator, Thomas Valentine, had filed a counterclaim which he agreed to drop in exchange for Stuart splitting his profits from rancho land sales. Two years later, Valentine sued to reopen the case, setting off 15 years of legal drama in the courts.[24]

Stuart opened a real estate office in Petaluma for residents to repurchase their property from him, regardless of whatever bogus deeds they had been issued by Keller, Tustin, or Bassett.[25]

Map of Petaluma, 1855 (photo Petaluma Historical Library & Museum)

Shortly after the Land Commission ruling, Bassett’s wife Mary sued him for divorce, settling for $5,000 ($170,000 in today’s currency). Cash strapped, Bassett forfeited his unsold sections of Bassett’s Addition and leased out the Petaluma House. A year later, he opened the Petaluma Family Grocery on Main Street.[26] It didn’t last. In 1860, he declared bankruptcy, and left Petaluma for Sacramento, to join his youngest daughter and her husband.[27]

Over the next decade, he returned to his migratory ways, settling briefly in Half Moon Bay and San Jose, where he again filed for bankruptcy, before heading to Nevada with his two younger sons to work the mines. In 1872, he reunited in Utah with a childhood companion from The Family, Lucy Celesta Stanton, who had once been married to his brother, before becoming a notorious figure in her own right.[28]

After divorcing Bassett’s brother, Stanton married a former Black slave named William McCary and started a fringe Mormon movement with him that embraced not only polygamy, but also sexual threesomes. The two traveled the countryside posing as American Indians, performing at Mormon revivals and temperance meetings in native dress, until they were excommunicated and McCary disappeared. Stanton then opened a native healing clinic in Buffalo, New York.

Lucy Celesta Stanton Bassett (photo in public domain)

Just prior to reuniting with Bassett, Stanton was released from Sing Sing prison after serving nine years for an abortion she performed on a woman who died.[29]

Stanton and Bassett married and lived together in Utah until 1876, when Bassett died while on a transcontinental trip to Philadelphia for the nation’s centennial. He was 67. After his death, Stanton repented her ways and was rebaptized in the Church of Latter-day Saints. Having failed to repent his rebellious ways, Bassett was presumably cast after death into what the church calls “spirit prison.”[30]

For more on George H. Keller’s Founding of Petlauma:

The Land Scam that Created Petaluma
The Search for Petaluma’s Real Founder

For more on Columbus Tustin:

A Bend in the Road: the Legacy of Columbus Tustin

FOOTNOTES:

[1] “Notice,” Gospel Herald (Goree, WI), March 21, 1850; Bassett’s arrival in 1852 is confirmed by the marriage license issued on November 18, 1852, for his son Madison H. Bassett to Emily Woodward, by the California Marriage Licenses, 1850-1852, Sonoma County, and by the autobiography of his son Ralph Lowe Bassett, http://www.bassett.net/gendata-o/p15044.htm.

[2] John Sheehy, “History Mystery Solved,” Petaluma-Argus Courier, February 11, 2021; “Centennial Resurrection,” Petaluma Weekly Argus, March 31, 1876; Robert A. Thompson, Historical and Descriptive Sketch of Sonoma County, California (Philadelphia: L.H. Everts & Co., 1877), p. 55.

[3] J.P. Munro-Fraser, History of Sonoma County (San Francisco: Alley, Bowen & Co., 1880), pp. 263; “Historical: Petaluma’s Birth and Growth,” Petaluma Courier, October 19, 1892; Munro-Fraser, p. 263.

[4] Munro-Fraser, p. 263; Ad for Petaluma House, Sonoma County Journal, September 1, 1855.

[5] “Donald Edwards, pp. 15-18; “Gaye LeBaron’s Notebook,” Santa Rosa Press Democrat, April 1, 1990; William Boggs, “Lilburn Boggs,” F.A. Sampson, ed., Missouri Historical Review, Vol. IV (October 1909-July 1910), pp. 109; Donald Edwards, “Lilburn Boggs,” Portraits of Early Sonoma County Settlers (Sonoma County Genealogical Society, 2016), pp. 15-16.

[6] William Boggs, pp. 109; Donald Edwards, pp. 15-16.

[7] Stephen C. LeSueur, The 1838 Mormon War in Missouri (University of Missouri Press, 1990), pp. 10. 17-21.

[8] Christopher C. Smith, “Playing Lamanite: Ecstatic Performance of American Indian Roles In Early Mormon Ohio,” Journal of Mormon History, Vol. 41, No. 3, July 2015, pp. 131-166;  Susan Easton Black, “Heman Bassett,” Doctrine and Covenants Central. https://doctrineandcovenantscentral.org/people-of-the-dc/heman-a-bassett/

Smith, pgs. 131, 151; “Isaac Morley Farm and School House,” Brigham Young University, Idaho. https://emp.byui.edu/satterfieldb/rel341/Isaac%20Morley%20Farm.htm

[9] Black.

[10] Black.

[11] Black.

[12] Doctrine and Covenants of the Church of the Latter Day Saints: Carefully Selected from the Revelations of God, 52:42; Norman F. Furniss,The Mormon Conflict(New Haven, CT: Yale University Press, 2011), p. 2.

[13] LeSueur, pp. 229-230.

[14] LeSueur, p. 19; “The Mormon Difficulties,” Niles National Register, October 6, 1838, October 13, 1838; Smith, pp. 159-160; “The Bloody History of Mormonism in Jackson County,” NPR Kansas City, February 12, 2015. https://www.kcur.org/show/central-standard/2015-02-12/the-bloody-history-of-mormonism-in-jackson-county

[15] LeSueur, p. 180-181.

[16] 1850 U.S. Census, Racine, WI; “Notice,” Gospel Herald (Goree, WI), March 21, 1850; Autobiography of Bassett’s son Ralph Lowe Bassett, http://www.bassett.net/gendata-o/p15044.htm.

[17] The Preemption Act of 1841, 27th Congress, Ch. 16, 5 Stat. 453 (1841), accessed from www.minnesotalegalhistoryproject.org; Paul W. Gates, The California Land Act of 1851, California Historical Society, Vol. 50, No. 4 (Dec., 1971), pp. 395–430.

[18] David Hornbeck, “The Patenting of California’s Private Land Claims, 1851-1885,” Geographical Review, Vol. 69, No. 4 (October., 1979), p. 437.

[19] Pisani, pp. 291-292.

[20] Adair Heig, History of Petaluma: A California River Town (Petaluma, CA: Scottwall Associates, 1982), pgs. 21, 29; “Centennial Resurrection,” Petaluma Weekly Argus, March 31, 1876; Robert A. Thompson, p. 55.

[21] Donald Edwards, “Lilburn Boggs,” Portraits of Early Sonoma County Settlers (Sonoma County Genealogical Society, 2016), pp. 15-16; “Deeds of Sonoma County, 1847-1901,” film #008117705, LDS FamilySearch database. familysearch.org.

[22] Munro-Fraser, pp. 259-260; Sonoma County Deed Records, show two grants in 1853 from Columbus Tustin, one to Edward S, Jones, May 16, 1853, and the other to Fred Starkey, August 12, 1853, indicating that he was selling lots; the boundaries of Tustin’s Addition defined in Thos. H. Thompson, Map of Sonoma County, 1877. 

[23] “Delinquent Tax List,” Sonoma County Journal, November 25, 1859; the boundaries of Bassett’s Addition defined in Thos. H. Thompson, Map of Sonoma County, 1877.

[24] Robert Lee, p. 266.

[25] Ad for Office Rancho Arroyo de San Antonio, Sonoma County Journal, October 27, 1855.

[26] Ad for Petaluma House, Sonoma County Journal, September 1, 1855; “Legal Notice,” Sonoma County Journal, December 29, 1855; Ad, Sonoma County Journal, May 1, 1857.

[27] “A Card,” Sonoma County Journal, January 28, 1859; “Married,” Sonoma County Journal, January 6, 1860; 1860 U.S. Census, Sacramento; “Legal Notice,” Sacramento Bee, January 5, 1861.

[28] Ralph Low Bassett Autobiography; “Insolvent Notice,” Times Gazette (San Mateo County), October 6, 1866.

[29] Angela Pulley Hudson, Real Native Genius: How and Ex-Slave and a White Mormon Became Famous Indians (University of North Carolina Press, 2015), pp. 1-16.

[30] Ralph Low Bassett Autobiography; “Died,” Petaluma Argus, July 28, 1876; Hudson, pp. 166-169.

Penry Park

A snapshot history of Petaluma’s first park

Penry Park (Hill Plaza Park), 1900 (photo courtesy of Sonoma County Library)

Penry Park was established as Main Street Plaza in January 1852, when Petaluma’s founder George H. Keller first laid out the town.

Early settlers weren’t pleased however with leaving a fallow piece of land at the heart of town, deriding it as “a waste and a nuisance.” Elected officials left the park barren for decades, with no paths, benches, trees, or water. Overrun by wild chickens, it was sarcastically called “Chicken Hill.”

The city made numerous attempts to convert it into something “useful,” including homes, businesses, a city hall, a courthouse, a high school, and a jail. In 1886, they constructed a stone wall along its eastern edge to end complaints of winter mudslides clogging up Main Street (Petaluma Boulevard North).

Egg Day Parade float outside Penry Park (Hill Plaza Park), 1920 (photo courtesy of Sonoma County Library)

In 1896, the Ladies Improvement Club took it upon themselves to landscape the park with trees and paths, renaming it Hill Plaza. They maintained the park until 1911, when the city created  a parks commission.

In 1929, a memorial with a cannon was erected in tribute to Petalumans lost in WWI, leading to the nickname “Cannonball Park.” The cannon was melted down for metal during WWII, and replaced by two anti-aircraft guns.

Penry Park (Hill Plaza Park) with WWI memorial, 1958 (photo courtesy of Sonoma County Library)

The city council persisted in their efforts to convert the park into something useful, mounting unsuccessful efforts in 1948 and 1960 to turn it into a parking lot.

In 2001, Hill Plaza Park was renamed Penry Park in honor of hometown Medal of Honor winner Richard Penry.

Penry Park, 2022 (photo courtesy of Scott Hess)

The Petaluma Incubator Company

A snapshot history of 230-242 Petaluma Blvd. North

Petlauma Incubator Company factory, 230-242 Main Street, 1912 (Sonoma County Library)

Few sites are etched into Petaluma history deeper than the Petaluma Incubator Company, the engine behind the city’s reign as the World’s Egg Basket. Yet, thanks to urban renewal efforts in the 1960s, nothing remains of the building today other than a rock wall lining Brewster’s Beer Garden.

The incubator company had its genesis in 1881, when Isaac Dias, a young Jewish dentist originally from New Orleans, and T.R. Jacobs, a Wells Fargo agent, invented an incubator capable of maintaining a steady temperature of 103 degrees, the same as a brooding hen’s body. By accelerating the hatching of newly laid eggs, the incubator freed the hen from her maternal nesting duties, allowing her to lay more.[1]

Dias and Jacobs original 1881 Petaluma incubator (Pacific Rural Press)

Dias and Jacobs first exhibited their invention at the 1881 Sonoma and Marin Agricultural District Fair, where they were awarded a ribbon. Following the fair Jacobs left their partnership. Dias filed for a patent, and launched I.L. Dias & Co. to manufacture the incubator.[2]

Ad in Pacific Rural Press, December 3, 1881

In 1882, he hired one of dental patients, Lyman Byce, as a sales agent. Byce operated a local poultry yard and served as a sales agent for a competing incubator company based in Chicago. He originally came to Petaluma in 1878 to visit a sister living there. Burned out from medical student in Canada, he was seeking the health benefits of the area’s Mediterranean sea breezes.[3]

Lyman C. Byce, circa 1870s (Petaluma Historical Library & Museum)

That same mild climate, along with the valley’s rich, alluvial soil, would set the stage for the chicken mania that followed.

In 1883, Byce—the Steve Jobs to Dias’ Steve Wozniak—became a full partner in the company, which Dias renamed  the Petaluma Incubator Company, setting up a factory in a former armory near the Washington Street Bridge.[4]

After Dias’s mysterious death in an 1884 duck hunting accident, Byce employed his marketing talents in taking the Petaluma Incubator Company to new heights. Positioning himself as the “father of chickendom,” he wrote Dias out of the story.[5]

Petaluma Incubator factory, established 1889, on Main Street across from Penry Park, beside G.P.McNear’s Oriental Mill (Sonoma County Library)
1902 fire that destroyed G.P. McNear’s Oriental Mill next door (Sonoma County Library)

In 1889, Byce moved the incubator factory to the Hopper Building at 230-236 Main Street, beside George P. McNear’s Oriental Mills & Feed Store. After a fire burned down McNear’s building in 1902, Byce purchased the lot at 238-242 Main, and constructed a modern new factory in its place.[6]

New Petaluma Incubator factory, 1913 (Sonoma County Library)

Overexpansion and distressed sales during World War I forced Byce to declare bankruptcy in 1919, and move to a smaller factory on East Washington Street. His former building was converted into a poultry packing plant by the Petaluma Poultry Company.[7]

In 1938, the poultry company sold the building to Petaluma Milling Company, a feed and mill store. It operated until 1967, when the city, championing urban renewal, condemned both buildings that had once housed the Petaluma Incubator Company, 230-236 and 238-242, giving the owners the choice of either rehabilitating them or tearing them down. They buildings were demolished in 1968.[8]

2022 view of Brewster’s Beer Garden (photo courtesy of Scott Hess)

The lots remained vacant until 2016, when Brewster’s Beer Garden created an open air facility on their ground floor facing Water Street, leaving a hole in the street landscape of Petaluma Boulevard North, a reminder of good intentions gone bad.[9]

FOOTNOTES:

[1] “Courierlets,” Petaluma Courier, July 13, 1881; “New Incubator,” Petaluma Argus, September 2, 1881; “Pavilion Notes,” Petaluma Argus, September 9, 1881; “The Incubator,” Petaluma Argus, September 16, 1881.

[2] “Jacobs & Dias’s Incubator,” Petaluma Argus, September 21, 1881.Note: Prior to becoming a contractor and architect, in 1883, Jacobs left Wells Fargo to purchase a grocery in town. He designed, among other things, the Pepper Free Kindergarten Building at Liberty and Washington streets, and his own stylish home at 419 D Street. “Petaluma Pickings,” Petaluma Argus, May 5, 1883; “Local Brevities,” Petaluma Argus, December 8, 1883; Ad, Petaluma Courier, December 12, 1883; “About Completed: The William Pepper Kinder-School Building,” Petaluma Courier, August 23, 1894; “County Hospital Suicide Was a Well-known Former Local Man,” Petaluma Argus, December 26 1917; https://www.findagrave.com/memorial/242042606/thomas-robert-jacobs.

[3] Lowry, pp. 33-34; Ads for “I.L. Dias & Co.” began appearing in the spring of 1882 (Petaluma Courier, March 1, 1882); Ad for L.C. Byce, Petaluma Argus, November 4, 1881; “Byce’s Poultry Yards,” Petaluma Courier, March 8, 1882. Note: by March 1882, Byce had moved his poultry yard to Hopper Street in East Petaluma, “Byce’s Poultry Yards,” Petaluma Courier, March 8, 1882.

[4] Lowry, p. 33; First ad for Petaluma Incubator Company, Pacific Rural Press, August 30, 1884; “A Gold Medal,” Petaluma Argus, November 22, 1884; McKenney’s Sonoma, Napa, Lake, Mendocino, Humboldt, Yolo, Solano, and Marin Counties, 1884-1885, p. 265, Sonoma County Library: I.L. Dias & Company lists Isaac L. Dias and Lyman C. Byce as manufacturers at the corner of Main and Washington streets. “Jacobs & Dias’ Incubator,” Petaluma Argus, July 13, 1881; “Poultry and Incubators,” Petaluma Courier, February 7, 1883; “Courierlets,” Petaluma Courier, April 25, 1883; “Petaluma Incubator,” Petaluma Argus, October 3, 1883; A Gold Medal,” Petaluma Argus, November 22, 1884.

[5] Lowry, pp. 33-37; “Another Contest,” Petaluma Courier, September 2, 1896; “Petaluma Incubator Banquets,” Petaluma Courier, November 22, 1904; “How It All Came About,” Petaluma Incubator Company brochure, 1909, Lorraine Skoog Collection, Petaluma Historical Library & Museum

[6] Ad, Petaluma Courier, August 25, 1888; “A Happy New Year,” Petaluma Argus, December 28, 1888; “Petaluma Industries,” Petaluma Courier, May 29, 1889; “A Midnight Blaze,” Petaluma Courier, June 11, 1902; “A Business Deal,” Petaluma Courier, August 29, 1902

[7] “Petition in Solvency,” Petaluma Argus, September 23, 1919; “Big Auction Sale Today,” Petaluma Argus, February 3, 1920; “Will Open a Monster Plant,” Petaluma Argus, March 25, 1920.

[8] “Milani Bldg. Bought by L. Hozz,” Petaluma Argus-Courier, October 20, 1938; “Petaluma Milling Company Closes,” Petaluma Argus-Courier, June 2, 1967; “Council Orders Action,” Petaluma Argus-Courier, November 2, 1967; “City Budget,” Petaluma Argus-Courier, May 7, 1968.

[9] “Water Street Rising,” Petaluma Argus-Courier, May 5, 2016.Few sites are etched into Petaluma history deeper than the Petaluma Incubator Company, the engine behind the city’s reign as the World’s Egg Basket. Yet, thanks to urban renewal efforts in the 1960s, nothing remains of the building today other than a rock wall lining Brewster’s Beer Garden.

Petaluma’s Carriage & Car Heritage Site

A snapshot history of 217 Petaluma Blvd North

1901 photo of Robinson & Farrell Blacksmiths & Wagonmakers, 271 Petaluma Blvd. North (photo Petaluma Historical Library & Museum)

In Petaluma’s history of moving vehicles, 271 Petaluma Boulevard North is a local heritage site. Located between Martha and Prospect streets just north of Penry Park, people have been making, selling, and repairing wagons, buggies, and automobiles here since 1859, when Simon Conrad opened his blacksmith and carriage maker shop.

A native of Pennsylvania, Conrad not only gained a reputation as one of the finest carriage makers in the state, he also became a city leader, elected to the city’s Board of Trustees (city council), and serving as board president, or mayor. [1]

Upon his death in 1873, a former employee, John Loranger, took over the shop. Loranger’s buggies and blacksmithing won him top prizes at the Sonoma-Marin Fair. In 1879, he rented out to Isaac Dias a second story room in the shop, where he invented and patented a new egg incubator, partnering in 1882 with Lyman Byce to market it, kicking off Petaluma’s egg boom.[2]

After being elected to the city’s Board of Trustees in 1880, Loranger sold his shop to one of his blacksmiths, William F. Farrell and William Robinson. They secured an exclusive franchise to sell Studebaker buggies. Farrell bought out in 1901. Four years later, he replaced Simon Conrad’s original building with building that stands on the site today.[3]

1906 photo of Farrell Carriages, Buggies & Wagons, 271 Petaluma Blvd. North (photo Petaluma Historical Library & Museum)

After automobile sales came to Petaluma in 1903, Farrell expanded to selling and repairing them. Like his predecessors, he was a prominent civic leader, serving as fire chief and a member of the board of education. After his death in 1916, his sons Hamilton and William J. Farrell took over the business.[4]

In 1920, they became a dealership for Dodge cars, moving their showroom and auto repair shop next door to the north side of Prospect Street. Will Farrell became a city councilman in 1922, and was elected mayor in 1929. He resigned in 1934 after being accused of covertly profiting from servicing city vehicles at his shop.[5]

1944 photo of Inwood Auto Parts, 271 Petaluma Blvd. North (photo Sonoma County Library)

The building at 271 Main was occupied by a rotation of auto-related businesses until 1933, when William Inwood established his tire and auto repair business there. Upon his death in 1948, Jack Dunaway, who joined the firm in high school, assumed management of the shop, purchasing it from Inwood’s widow in 1952.[6]

His son Mike joined him in managing Dunaway Auto Parts in the 1970s, eventually taking over the business. In 1996, the company transitioned to Dunaway Auto Paints, which it remains today.[7]

2022 photo of Dunaway Auto Parts/ Auto Paint, est. 1952, 271 Petaluma Blvd. North (photo courtesy of Scott Hess)

SOURCES:

[1] Sonoma County Journal, July 18, 1862; “Death of Simon Conrad,” Petaluma Argus, April 25, 1873.

[2] “Wagon Making,” Petaluma Argus, May 8, 1873; “John Loranger’s Manufactory,” Petaluma Argus, February 27, 1874; Petaluma Argus, October 15, 1875; Petaluma Argus, October 3, 1879; Ed Mannion’s Rear View Mirror, Petaluma Argus-Courier, October 22, 1960.

[3] “New Firm,” Petaluma Argus, December 9, 1881; “Notice of Dissolution, “Petaluma Courier, November 14, 1901; Carriage Repository,” Petaluma Courier, March 3, 1905; “Briefs,” Petaluma Courier, April 26, 1905.

[4] “W.F. Farrell Dies at His Old Home,” Petaluma Courier, December 19, 1916; “The Whole City Mourns the Death of W.F. Farrell, Petaluma Argus, December 18, 1916; “Notice,” Petaluma Courier, December 24, 1916.

[5] “Farrell Bros. Now Agents for Dodge,” Petaluma Courier, Mary 26, 1920; Moved into New Building,” Petaluma Courier, July 17, 1920; “Certificate of Partnership,” Petaluma Argus, July 30, 1924; “Beautiful New Home of Farrell Bros.,” Petaluma Argus, July 28, 1928; “W. Farrell Councilman,” Petaluma Courier, May 6, 1922; “Mayor Farrell, Four Aides, Quit Office,” Santa Rosa Press Democrat, January 27, 1934.

[6] Ads, Petaluma Argus, September 7, 1920, June 16, 1921, 1922 “J.A. Cline, Dealer” selling used cars there; Ad listing, Petaluma Argus, April 24, 1926, June 14, 1927: Inwood & Greene auto repair at  267-271 Main; Ad for Inwood & Flohr, Petaluma Argus-Courier, May 14, 1932: listed at 304 Main Street; “Inwood & Flohr Have Fine New Store,” Petaluma Argus-Courier, April 20, 1933; “Wim. A. Inwood, Businessman, Dies From Heart Ailment,” Petaluma Argus-Courier, October 25, 1948; “Jack Dunaway Buys Inwood Auto Parts,” Petaluma Argus-Courier, April 1, 1952.

[7] Ad, Petaluma Argus-Courier, April 27, 1974; “Petaluma Access,” Petaluma Argus-Courier, March 8, 1996.

Tribute to a Mentor—Ardie Fortier

Ardie Fortier, 1924-2029 (photo courtesy of Brigham Denison)

Today marks what would have been the 93rd birthday of my mentor Ardie Fortier, who died last fall.

When we’re young, some of us have the good fortune of finding a mentor—someone who sees a potential in us others don’t, and who is willing to provide us with a guiding light toward helping us realize it.

The word “mentor” comes from the name of a character in Homer’s book The Odyssey. Mentor was the person entrusted with the education of Odysseus’ son while Odysseus went off to fight the Trojan War, and then spent 10 years wandering the world before making it back home.

In my case, the roles were somewhat reversed—I left home shortly after graduating from high school, and set off for Europe with a backpack for four years. Along the way, I took as my mentor an incarnation of Odysseus in the lovely form of a woman named Ardie Fortier.

I had a passing acquaintance with Ardie growing up in my hometown of Petaluma, as she was the mother of one of my classmates, Carrie Steere. But when I first encountered her and her husband Joe during my travels in their little cottage overlooking the Shannon River in West County Clare, our connection as kindred souls was instantaneous.

View of the Shannon River from Joe and Ardie’s cottage in Knock, Ireland, 1974 (photo courtesy of Brigham Denison)

We spent hours in the kitchen—the only warm room in an Irish cottage—talking about everything under the sun—history, literature, philosophy, religion, politics, and psychology—all infused with Ardie’s contagious enthusiasm, curiosity, and good humor.

For an aspiring autodidact like myself, out to study the world first hand and not on some college assembly line, it was pure heaven.

Not long after that visit, Ardie and Joe moved to Munich, where Joe took a teaching position at an extension of the University of Maryland, and Ardie took a job at the nearby headquarters of the company that ran the PXs on American military bases in Europe.

Their Munich apartment became my refuge from the road, where I could recharge and reengage with Ardie and Joe in far-reaching discussions around the kitchen table. Some evenings, Joe’s faculty colleagues—an eclectic group of intellectuals from around the globe—would join us, and we’d have a literary salon of sorts with Ardie as host, employing her gracious humor and infectious laughter to keep things from going off the rails.

Ardie (right) with friend at Bavarian farmhouse, 1977 (photo John Sheehy)

After a couple years of hitchhiking around Europe, working odd jobs, studying history, literature, and culture, I hit a wall, both broke and burned out. I made my way back to Munich, where Ardie helped me find a place to live and a clerical job at the PX headquarters where she worked. In a weird twist of fate, some months later, I was made an office supervisor, managing a group of people twice my age, including Ardie.

Now, for most people, having to report to a scruffy 21-year old road bum you’ve just helped scrape off the streets, would be awkward, to say the least. But not Ardie.

She stepped in as a mentor, sharing her incredible wealth of emotional intelligence in coaching me on how to manage the crazy bunch of Germans and American expatriates in the office. Because she had a master’s degree in psychology and Joe was a psychology professor, that included a deep dive into the study the Myers-Briggs typology to understand how to work with others.

Ardie’s type was INFP—introverted, intuitive, feeling, perceptive. Mine type was similar—except I was typed as a thinker instead of a feeler, meaning that, while Ardie relied upon feelings to sort out the value of what she was intuitively taking in, I turned to analysis.

Joe and Ardie walking in Munich’s Englischer Garten , 1976 (photo John Sheehy)

Joe also conducted tests to determine which professions Ardie and I were best suited for. In Ardie’s case, I believe it was nursing, which she eventually gravitated to later in life. For me, it was writing and reporting. My least suitable occupation was business management.

When I finally did get around to pursuing a career, it was indeed as an editor at a literary magazine in New York City. But within a couple of years, I gravitated to the least of my talents in becoming the magazine’s publisher. I went on to spend the next 35 years running media companies, with no business management training whatsoever aside from those tutorials with Joe and Ardie, and Ardie’s on-the-job coaching at the office in Munich.

The author riding the rails in Europe, 1974 (photo courtesy of Brigham Denison)

It was same with education. I hated the idea of going to college, but as an aspiring autodidact, I was a complete failure, overwhelmed with information. Ardie and Joe helped me to see that the “T” for thinker in my Myers-Briggs profile meant I needed some formal training in critical thinking to make sense what I was taking in.

Once again, Ardie was there as a mentor. She had attended Pomona College for two years before marrying her first husband, Jim Steere, a big animal veterinarian. After the first two of her six children were born, the family moved to Oregon, where Ardie enrolled at Reed College in Portland to complete her undergraduate degree. There she found her intellectual home, and absolutely thrived. She thought I would too.

Ardie, second from left, as a student at Reed College, 1955 (photo Reed Griffin yearbook)

As fate would have it, Reed had only one study-abroad program, and it was at the University of Munich. After hanging out with the Reed students there, I realized Ardie was right—I had found my people.

With Ardie’s help, I applied to Reed—it was the only college I ever applied to—and was surprisingly accepted. While Reed accepted me, they would not provide me with any financial aid, as they considered me a “spice student,” there to add a different life experience to the student body, but not expected to last long. I continued working in Munich for another year to save up the money for my first year of tuition.

Today, thanks to Ardie, I am not only a Reed graduate, but a long-serving member of the college’s board of trustees.

Ardie and Joe eventually returned to the states. After Joe passed away, Ardie joined the Peace Corps in Costa Rica at age 60. Upon her return, we found ourselves near neighbors in San Francisco.

Ardie in Costa Rica with the Peace Corps, 1990 (photo Steere family)

Ardie and I started volunteering together at a local food bank, making monthly food deliveries to people in need, mostly in the projects. I carried in the food, while Ardie greeted everyone with her generous smile and upbeat manner, mentoring me once again in the characteristics that opened doors wherever she went—courage, curiosity, and compassion.

“On the path laid out before you,” wrote the poet Gary Snyder, another Reed alum, “others have already been that way and picked all the berries. In order to get your own berries, you need to leave the path and make your own trail.”

On her personal odyssey in this life, Ardie not only carved out her own trail, and got her own berries, she inspired me, and I’m sure countless others, to do the same, for which I am eternally grateful.

******

A link to Ardie’s obituary in Reed College alumni magazine:

https://www.reed.edu/reed-magazine/in-memoriam/obituaries/2022/ardeth-owen-steere-fortier-1955.html

Petaluma’s Days as a Roadside Attraction

Petaluma’s Main Street looking north from Western Avenue, 1930 (photo courtesy of Dan Brown)

On September 3, 1925, an auto caravan of 40 “cavemen” clad in the skins of mountain lions, panthers and wildcats, set off from Grants Pass, Oregon, to take possession of Petaluma, California. Before departing, they made sure to book 26 rooms at the Hotel Petaluma, requesting permission to set up a cave in the lobby.1

The cavemen were bound for a convention promoting the Redwood Highway, a new auto route extending from the Oregon Caves Monument outside Grants Pass to the docks of Sausalito. The name “Redwood Highway” was coined in 1921 by A.D. Lee, a Crescent City hotelier, who believed the new scenic thoroughfare too lucrative to be designated by merely a number.2 Regardless, in 1926 it would officially become part of U.S. Highway 101.

Lee’s inspiration for the name came from a conservationist group called Save the Redwoods League, who in 1918 mounted a campaign to preserve what remained of California’s old growth redwood groves by making them state parks.3

Members of the Save the Redwoods League, 1920s (photo Humboldt County Historical Society)

The conservationists’ call of the wild spoke to a new wave of automobility sweeping the country. No longer hampered by wretched roads, the limited speed and endurance of the horses pulling wagons and stages, or the inflexible timetable of steam locomotives, motor-savvy Americans were setting out aboard their gas-powered “vacation agents” for road trips to the wildest and most natural places on the continent.4

Auto tourists on the Redwood Highway, 1920s (photo public domain)
Petaluma’s Bungalow Auto Camp, 711 Petlauma Boulevard North at Cherry Street, 1928-1975 (photo Sonoma County Library)

To capitalize on the craze, Lee and a group of fellow entrepreneurs in Del Norte, Humboldt, and Mendocino counties launched the Redwood Highway Association.5 For help in convincing other counties to get on the bandwagon, Lee reached out to fellow “booster extraordinaire” Bert Kerrigan, secretary of Petaluma’s Chamber of Commerce.6

Known for putting Petaluma on the map as “The World’s Egg Basket,” Kerrigan specialized in the sort of razzle dazzle stunts that attracted filmmakers screening newsreels in movie houses across the country.

His National Egg Day was full of eye-catching visuals like the Egg Parade, Egg Queen, Egg Ball, Egg Day Rodeo of hens and horses, and a “chicken chase” down San Francisco’s Market Street accompanied by a biplane dropping chicken feathers affixed with coupons for free Petaluma eggs.7

Bert Kerrigan, Secretary of Petaluma’s Chamber of Commerce and local egg booster, 1920 (photo Petaluma Historical Library & Museum)

The opportunity to position Petaluma as one of the last civilized outposts before driving off into the woods captivated Kerrigan. He went to work convincing Petaluma merchants to be among the first to adopt the use of “Redwood Highway” in their advertising, followed by the Sonoma County Board of Trade and the mayor of San Francisco.8

By the time Lee and 150 other members of Redwood Highway Association gathered at the Hotel Petaluma in 1925, Kerrigan had been shown the door as Petaluma’s ringmaster, having bled the Chamber of Commerce dry with his flamboyant stunts.9

His Redwood Highway legacy however lived on in the steady stream of autos and “auto stages” passing through town on summer weekends, bound for what travel brochures described as “the world’s most scenic Paradise Wonderland, 100 miles of giant redwood trees, primeval, primitive, and untrammeled, with streams full of fish and woods full of game.”10

1921 map of the new Redwood Empire route (illustration courtesy of the San Francisco Examiner)

The majority of the auto tourists were from Southern California. That led the Redwood Highway Association to believe they had a shot at displacing Highway 99—the future Interstate 5 running up the Sacramento Valley—as the main trunk between San Francisco and Oregon, and raking in some of the estimated $2 million ($32 million in today’s dollars) spent at roadside attractions along the way.11

Turning to tourist conquest, they changed their name to the Redwood Empire Association.12

Brochure for Auto Stage Tour of Redwood Empire, 1928 (photo public domain)

The keynote speaker at their 1925 convention was Harvey Toy, California’s commissioner of state highways. Thanks to a recent two cent per gallon gasoline tax imposed by the state, Toy informed the group he had the funds to iron out the kinks in the Redwood Highway, making it a safe and efficient thoroughfare.13

The association’s treasurer, Santa Rosa banker Frank Doyle, who was part of a group advocating construction of a bridge across the Golden Gate, updated the group on the impact the bridge would have on tourist traffic north. To avoid becoming a bottleneck, Petaluma would need to widen its Main Street from two to four lanes.

Frank Doyle, president of The Exchange Bank (photo public domain)

The prospect gave local merchants pause. Main Street was not only the town’s main artery of commerce, but the heart of its social connections and celebrations, with ample 12 foot wide sidewalks and convenient diagonal parking lanes.

Petaluma’s Lower Main Street late 1920s, where Center Park replaced carriage hitching posts (photo courtesy of Petaluma Historical Library & Museum)

The city had bent over backwards to assimilate the automobile since its arrival in 1903, paving Main Street’s bumpy cobblestones with asphalt, converting hitching posts to parking lanes, replacing liveries and stables with garages and filling stations. But reducing the width of the sidewalks and imposing parallel parking so as to accommodate four lanes of through traffic, struck many as a death knell for Main Street.

In 1935, with construction of the Golden Gate Bridge finally underway, the chief engineer of the state highway commission, Col. John Skeggs, paid Petaluma merchants a visit. Either widen Main Street to four lanes, Skeggs told them, or else the state would reroute Redwood Highway to the flats east of town.14

The Golden Gate under construction, 1935 (photo public domain)

Merchants proposed a compromise. They were willing to reduce the sidewalk widths from 12 to 9 feet to create a center third lane for making left turns, while retaining diagonal parking.

The matter remained at a standstill until May 1937, when the new bridge opened.

Cars lining up for the Sausalito ferry at Hyde Pier, San Francisco, 1937 (photo public domain)

The flood of through traffic the first two weekends convinced merchants they had no choice but to surrender to the motoring hordes of the Redwood Empire, converting Main Street to four narrow lanes and parallel parking.15

Main Street looking south from Washington Street, 1950 (photo Petaluma Historical Library & Museum)

Twenty years later, Kerrigan’s two lingering Petaluma legacies came to an abrupt end. The advent of poultry-raising factory farms throughout the country emptied the Egg Basket of the World, and the Redwood Highway abandoned Petaluma’s sluggish Main Street for the breezy new U.S. 101 freeway constructed east of town in 1957.

Into the vacuum poured thousands of auto commuters, who, thanks to the new freeway and Golden Gate Bridge, found San Francisco within easy driving distance from Petaluma. As the ranchlands east of town began filling up with suburban tract homes, Petaluma found itself transformed into a bedroom community.

While the new freeway alleviated through traffic on Main Street, it also dealt a blow to the hotels, restaurants, bars, and gas stations that catered to it. In an effort to attract freeway travelers, in 1958 the city changed the name of Main Street to Petaluma Boulevard North. Third Street, which extended from B Street to the new freeway entrance south of town, was renamed Petaluma Boulevard South.16

It wasn’t enough. New shopping malls on the eastside drained the downtown of foot traffic. By the 1960s, Petaluma Boulevard was pockmarked with empty shops and old, dilapidated buildings, forcing the city to impose an ordinance requiring owners to bring them up to code or else tear them down.17 Many chose the latter.

Boards on the windows of Wickersham Building on Petaluma Boulevard North, 1970s (photo Sonoma County Library)

In 1969, the city put before voters an urban renewal proposal calling for the demolition of all the buildings on the east side of Petaluma Boulevard from B to Oak streets, for the installation of a six-lane thoroughfare. Voters rejected it.18

In the mid-1970s, the city turned to historic restoration as a means of reviving the downtown, beginning with the Great Petaluma Mill, an abandoned grain mill downtown converted by Skip Sommer into a gallery of boutique shops and restaurants.

Great Petaluma Mill’s B Street entrance, 1978 (photo Sonoma County Library)

In a town besieged by homogenous housing developments, garden-variety business parks, and uniform chain stores, the unique character of Petaluma’s historic downtown proved the catalyst of its rebirth as a trendy nightlife and shopping district.19 That brought with it increased traffic and accidents, most of them sideswipes of parked cars due to Petaluma Boulevard’s inherently narrow travel and parking lanes.20

In 2003, city planners proposed a traffic calming measure known as the “road diet.” Much like the city’s 1935 compromise proposal, it called for reducing the number of travel lanes from four to two, with a center third lane for making left turns.21

But unlike in 1935, many merchants opposed it, worried it would reduce downtown traffic. Like a gradual approach to healthy eating, the city administered the road diet in three stages, beginning in 2007 and 2013, with the final stage along Petaluma Boulevard South scheduled for completion in fall 2022.22

Studies show the road diet has reduced collisions while maintaining the same level of pre-diet traffic, meaning that, a century after Kerrigan surrendered Main Street to the traffic of the Redwood Highway, Petaluma has finally recaptured the pedestrian-friendly heart of its downtown.23

Petaluma Boulevard today with road diet (photo courtesy of Scott Hess)

******

A version of this story appeared in the Petaluma Argus-Courier, July 22, 2022

FOOTNOTES

[1] “Men to Boost Highway Here,” Petaluma Courier, August 29, 1925; “Oregon Cavemen Coming, Bringing Their Own Cave,’” Petaluma Argus, September 2, 1925; “Will Stop at Hotel Petaluma,” Petaluma Argus, September 2, 1925.

[2] The basic routing for what became “Legislated Route Number 1” was defined in the 1909 First Bond Act, as part of a route from San Francisco to Crescent City. It was extended to the Oregon border by the 1919 Third Bond Act. Ground was broken for the route in August 1912. LRN 1 corresponds to present-day US 101 and US 199, which were assigned in 1926, between the Golden Gate and the Oregon border. https://www.cahighways.org/ROUTE001.html#LR001; “Redwood Highway Suggested for Hiway,” Petaluma Courier, July 11, 1921; A.D. Lee referred to as the “Father of the Redwood Highway”: “Officers are Elected by Highway Assn.,” Petaluma Courier, October 25, 1925; “Wanted—A Dozen More, The Del Norte Triplicate, March 26, 1920.

[3]“Redwood Highway Opens Vast Scenic World to Autoist,” San Francisco Examiner, July 21, 1921; Save the Redwoods League website, https://www.savetheredwoods.org/about-us/mission -history/

[4] Peter J. Blodgett, “How Americans Fell in Love With Taking Road Trips,” Time magazine, August 15, 2015. https://time.com/3998949/road-trip-history/

[5] The seven counties officially formed the North of Bay Counties Association to promote the highway, of which the Redwood Highway Association appears to have been a subsidiary, referenced as early as February 1922; “Great North of Bay Development Program Outlined at S.R. Session,” Santa Rosa Press Democrat, November 6, 1921; “North of Bay Association is Formed,” Weekly Calistogan, November 18, 1921; “Redwood Highway to Traverse Scenic Wonderland,” Cloverdale Reveille, January 27, 1922; “Petaluma C. of C. Urge Highway Completion,” Petaluma Courier, February 19, 1922.

[6] “C.C. Endorses Naming of State Highway and Boulevard Road District,” Petaluma Courier, September 9, 1921; “Redwood Highway Booster is Here,” Petaluma Argus, October 21, 1922.

[7] John Benanti, “The Man Who Invented Petaluma,” Petaluma Museum Association Newsletter, Spring 2013, pp. 9-10.

[8] “C.C. Endorses Naming of State Highway and Boulevard Road District,” Petaluma Courier, September 9, 1921; “Pamphlets Advertising Sonoma County and Redwood Highway,” Petaluma Courier, June 22, 1922; San Francisco Press to Boost  Petaluma Egg Day and Sonoma County Fair,” Petaluma Courier, July 9, 1922.

[9] “Kerrigan Resigns as Secretary of the C.C.,” Petaluma Argus, June 4, 1924; Benanti, p. 10.

[10] “Transit Company Plans Tours on Redwood Highway,” Petaluma Courier, November 7, 1924.

[11] “North of Bay Association is Formed,” Weekly Calistogan, November 18, 1921; “Big Increase in Redwood Highway Use,” Petaluma Courier, October 20, 1925; “Redwood Highway Association Ends in Meeting with a Banquet,” Petaluma Courier, October 26, 1925;

[12] “’Redwood Empire’” is New Assn Name,” Petaluma Courier, October 3, 1926.

[13] “Officers are Elected by Highway Assn.,” Petaluma Courier, October 25, 1925; https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/California_Department_of_Transportation;

[14] “Parking Bar to Petaluma Projects,” Petaluma Argus-Courier, January 25, 1935.

[15] “Improved Highway Facilities,” Petaluma Argus-Courier, June 15, 1937; “Petaluma Bottlenecks Doomed,” Petaluma Argus-Courier, May 11, 1938; “Traffic Lanes are Painted,” Petaluma Argus-Courier, June 8, 1938; “Active Council Works for Petaluma Progress,” Petaluma Argus-Courier, October 15, 1938.

[16] “Old Redwood Highway Renaming,” Petaluma Argus-Courier, June 23, 1958. “Supervisors Vote to Change Name of Old U.S. 101,” Petaluma Argus-Courier, July 9, 1958.

[17] “Dangerous Building Code Action by Council,” Petaluma Argus-Courier, November 21, 1967.

[18] “Measure D is Most Vital,” Petaluma Argus-Courier, June 5, 1969; “Only One Bond Issue Survives Election,” Petaluma Argus-Courier, June 11, 1969.

[19] “Mill Played a Key Role in Downtown Revitalization,” Petaluma Argus-Courier, January 9, 1980; “Bill Murray and Mayor Putnam,” Petaluma Post, February, 2014.

[20] “Boulevard ‘Road Diet’ to Begin in September,” Petaluma Argus-Courier, August 8, 2007; “Downtown Road Diet Nixed,” Petaluma Argus-Courier, October 8, 2009.

[21] “Boost in Economy, Increase in Traffic Downtown Anticipated,” Petaluma Argus-Courier, October 8, 2003; “Boulevard ‘Road Diet’ to Begin in September,” Petaluma Argus-Courier, August 8, 2007; “Downtown ‘Road Diet’ Narrowly Approved,” Petaluma Argus-Courier, October 7, 2010.

[22] Petaluma Boulevard Road Diet Funded,” Petaluma Argus-Courier, May 18, 2017; Petaluma Boulevard Road Diet, https://cityofpetaluma.org/pet-blvd-s-road-diet/

[23] “Have No Fear For Road Diets,” Petaluma Argus-Courier, July 14, 2016; “Petaluma Boulevard Road Diet Funded,” Petaluma Argus-Courier, May 18, 2017; “Petaluma Road Diet Nearly Finished,” Petaluma Argus-Courier, December 12, 2007; “Downtown ‘Road Diet’ Narrowly Approved,” Petaluma Argus-Courier, October 7, 2010; “Road Diet Begins Again,” Petaluma Argus-Courier, May 2, 2013.