Petaluma’s Pioneer Black Leader

19th century Black barbershop (photo public domain)

In September of 1855, George Webster Miller took out in advertisement in the Sonoma County Journal, Petaluma’s newspaper at the time, announcing the opening of his new Humboldt Shaving & Hair Dressing Saloon on Main Street, two doors north of today’s Putnam Plaza. Miller had just moved to Petaluma from San Francisco, where he had resided for four years, with his twenty-three year old wife Catherine and their two infant children, Elizabeth and George Frank. Although Miller proclaimed in his ad that he was determined to please his customers “in the tonsorial art,” his intentions extended beyond merely providing a close shave and a good haircut.[1]

Ad for George Miller’s barbershop (Sonoma County Journal, November 17, 1855)

Like a number of free-born, educated Blacks from the Northeast and Midwest, Miller had come to California looking for economic and social opportunities at the height of the Gold Rush. A native of New Jersey, the twenty-five-year old Miller had arrived in California in 1850 via the Steamer Pacific, which meant that he would have sailed from New York to Nicaragua, traveled cross that country by boat on the San Juan River and Lake Nicaragua, then taken a stagecoach to the west coast port of San Juan del Sal, where he would have boarded the sidewheel steamer Pacific bound for San Francisco.

The route, operated by shipping magnate Cornelius Vanderbilt, transported many people to California during the Gold Rush, including both free and enslaved African Americans, most of whom headed straight for the mining towns.[2] Slaves brought to California by their Southern owners to work the mines, where often able to purchase their freedom by working nights in the mines to earn money.[3]

Black miner working a sluice box in Auburn Ravine, 1852 (photo courtesy Getty Images)

As news of Blacks finding success and freedom in California spread among newspapers back east like Frederick Douglass’ North Star, the state’s black population climbed from 962 in 1850 to 4,800 by 1855. Half of the newcomers settled in the mining counties of El Dorado, Yuba, Nevada, and Sacramento; a third in the fast-growing city of San Francisco; and the remainder in towns like Petaluma, then a small but bustling river town supplying San Francisco with agricultural goods.[4]

1855 Map of Petaluma (illustration courtesy of Sonoma County Library)

In California, most free Black men and women were relegated to low skilled and poorly paid jobs. One of the more lucrative occupations for Black men however was barbering. In the South, slave owners had turned a profit by leasing out black barbers to neighboring plantations and local establishments to groom both slaves and affluent white men alike. As a result, many Black men literally “cut” their way to freedom.[5]

Access to an exclusive white clientele provided Black barbers with economic and social advantages that placed them in positions of prestige among Black communities. As customers demanded a high level of gentility from their surroundings, barbers were also expected to excel as interior decorators. The best of these shops were what historian Douglas Walter Bristol, Jr., author of Knights of the Razor, a history of Black barbers, called “first-class.”

Barbers cultivated the personae to match these surroundings. Refined in dress and graceful in movement, they were also expert conversationalists, engaging and entertaining their customers while they worked. They were disseminators of every bit of news, politics, gossip, and anecdote customers shared with each other in the shop. But they also had to watch their step.

A Barber’s Shop at Richmond, Virginia, 1861 (illustration courtesy of The Atlantic)

If their knowledge of politics or business was too extensive, or their jokes too pointed, customers might accuse them of overstepping racial boundaries—with potentially disastrous consequences. Their biggest challenge was the simple intimacy of the shop between the barber and patron. Listening in on the schemes and foibles of the white elite, they were expected to keep their secrets in confidence.[6]

Navigating these situations, a number of 19th-century barbers parlayed their work into economic independence, and in a few cases, investments that brought them extraordinary wealth. In a number of U.S. cities, Black barbers ranked among the richest and most powerful members of the free Black community.[7] 

In turn, they often used their prestige to advance the welfare of those communities, occupied positions of authority in Black organizations and working side-by-side ministers of the African Methodist Episcopal (A.M.E.) Church in California, which persistently advocated for the social improvement, religious autonomy, and political engagement of Blacks.[8]  

Two months after arriving in Petaluma, George Miller traveled to St. Andrew’s A.M.E. Church in Sacramento to attend the first Convention of the Colored Citizens of the State of California. The convention drew forty-nine attendees, representing all of California’s ten counties, with Miller serving as Sonoma County’s sole representative. Its primary focus was to mobilize Blacks to lobby for rescinding the state’s restriction laws on African Americans.

A.M.E. Church in Sacramento, 1920s (photo courtesy of California History Room, California State Library, Sacramento)

Although California had entered the Union in 1850 as a free, non-slave state, the early state legislature enacted a number proscriptions against people of color—specifically, Blacks, Native Americans, and Chinese immigrants—including the right to testify against a white person in court, homestead on public land, attend publicly-funded common schools, and vote.[9]

After its inaugural meeting in 1855, the Colored Citizens Convention held annual meetings again in 1856 and 1857, with George Miller once again representing Sonoma County (along in 1857 with Elisha Banks, also of Petaluma).

An engraving featured in harper’s Weekly of the National Colored Convention in Washington, D.C., 1869 (courtesy of the James Casey Collection/New York Times)

At the 1857 gathering Miller reported that Sonoma County’s Black population—which in 1850 had consisted of just Joseph and Louisa Silver, two free blacks working as servants to Santa Rosa physician Elisha Ely—had grown to seventy-two, thirty-one of whom resided in Petaluma and were living independently.

Of the remanding forty-one, twenty-seven were listed as farmers, with all but one claimed as slaves by their employers from the South, who, like many other southerners in Sonoma County, had settled primarily on the Santa Rosa plain.[10] Petaluma, by contrast, had drawn as much as fifty percent of its early white population from the Northeastern states, and another twenty percent from Europe, Britain, and Ireland.[11]

The differences in the background composition of the two towns became more pronounced and acrimonious during the Civil War and Reconstruction Era, as expressed in the adversarial relationship between their respective newspapers, the Petaluma Argus and the Sonoma Democrat, with Santa Rosa’s paper backing the Confederacy, and Petaluma’s paper supporting the Union. As a result, Petaluma’s small Black community enjoyed a relatively more supportive social, political, and economic environment than was found in Santa Rosa.[12]

Freedom for former slaves in California became tenuous in 1852 after the state passed its own version of the federal Fugitive Slave Law of 1850, allowing whites to keep slaves they had brought into California as long as they eventually transported them back to the South. This placed freed slaves, who often lacked clear legal documentation of their freedom, at risk of being kidnapped and sold back into slavery in the South.[13]

The state of affairs for all Blacks in California became more precarious in the mid-1850s, when many whites, concerned that their economic livelihoods were being threatened by the relatively cheap labor provided by Blacks and Chinese workers, mounted an anti-immigration campaign to drive them from the state.

In 1858, after the state assembly approved a bill banning further Black immigration, some blacks fled the state, a number of them to British Columbia, where a new gold strike was underway. The bill subsequently died in the state senate, overshadowed by passage of the first anti-Chinese immigration law.[14]

Despite the general adversarial climate in California, some of the legal restrictions Blacks faced began to lift in the early 1860s, as Republicans gained control of the governorship and state legislature. In 1863, the Franchise League, a lobbying group formed by members of the Colored Conventions, succeeded in securing Blacks the right to testify in court, placing a check on the immunity violent white racists had benefitted from. In 1862, the Federal Homesteading Act overrode the prohibitions California had placed on Black homesteaders with its Homesteading Acts of 1851 and 1860.[15]

One area however where  Blacks were dealt a setback was access to education. Along with Chinese and Indian students, they had been excluded from California’s common public schools since the state’s admission to the Union in 1850. The California School Law of 1855 strengthened that exclusionary policy by providing school funding based strictly on the number of white students attending a school. The policy was further fortified by an 1860 law that prohibited public schools from admitting “Negroes and Mongolians” under the threat of losing all funding.[16]

Segregated 19th century school (photo courtesy of Everett Historical/Shutterstock.com)

For George Miller and the other members of the Colored Conventions—most of whom had been educated as free men in the North—access to education was vital to Black success in California, not only in terms of becoming financially autonomous, but also in being viewed as educated and respected members of the community, and hopefully extinguishing some of the racist attitudes that whites held toward them. By embargoing Blacks from entering public schools, California was choosing to perpetuate the Southern fallacy that Blacks didn’t have the ability to survive off the plantation because of their illiteracy.

At the 1855 Colored Convention, members made it one of their top priorities to lobby the state legislature to educate all of California’s children. But they also took matters into their own hands, pooling their resources to buy land and create private schools for black children, often in alliance with the A.M.E. Church, which opened its basements for use as school rooms, deployed its ministers and their wives to serve as teachers, and raised money from its congregations to keep the schools operating.[17]

Report of the first California Colored Convention held in 1855

Petaluma at the time lacked both an A.M.E. Church and a school for black children. George Miller set out to change that. By the early 1860s, his Humboldt Shaving & Hairdressing Saloon was thriving. In 1861, he added a bath house, and in 1863 moved into the newly constructed Towne Building on Main Street across from the American Hotel (today a small parking lot extending between Petaluma Boulevard North and Water Street).[18]

That same year, Miller was joined by another Black barber in town, Frank Vandry Miller, who had immigrated to American from Jamaica in 1843. He opened up his barbershop a couple doors down from George Miller’s shop, also in the Towne Building.[19]

While the Chinese residents in Petaluma at the time lived close together in a designated “Chinese colony” on Main Street between Western Avenue and B Street, there was no clearly distinguished pattern of neighborhood groupings among Black residents. They lived in buildings scattered throughout the city. As a result, a challenge George Miller and other local Black leaders faced was bringing the Black community together. The appearance in 1862 of the Pacific Appeal, the west coast’s first major black newspaper, provided them with one means of doing that.

The Pacific Appeal, “A Weekly Journal devoted to the interests of the People of Color,” launched in 1862

Sporting the motto “He who would be free, himself must strike the blow,” the Pacific Appeal was co-founded by Peter Anderson, an early leader of the Colored Conventions, and Philip Alexander Bell, a pioneering Black journalist from New York. Launched in San Francisco shortly after the demise of California’s first black newspaper, Mirror of the Times, the Pacific Appeal provided a voice for California’s Black communities.[20] George Miller immediately signed on as the newspaper’s distribution agent in Petaluma and Santa Rosa, and Frank Miller as their agent in Sonoma.[21]

In an early edition of the Pacific Appeal, George Miller offered a colorful account of his weekly delivery route aboard the horse-drawn mail wagon from Petaluma to Santa Rosa (a five hour ride), describing some of the newspaper’s subscribers he conversed with along the way, including Santa Rosa barber John Richards.[22]

Born into slavery in Kentucky in 1824, Richards had made his way in 1856, after having acquired his freedom, to Santa Rosa, California, where he opened a shaving saloon and bathhouse at the southwest corner of Main (Santa Rosa Avenue) and Second streets.[23] By the early 1860s, Richards had established branches of his barbershop in Ukiah and Lakeport, and had also began to acquire large land holdings, eventually amassing an estate more than $12,000 ($300,000 in early 21st century currency), making him one of the most prosperous men in Sonoma County.[24] He and Miller would become close allies in educational initiatives for Blacks in Sonoma County.

In addition to networking among Sonoma County’s Black community, George Miller kept strong ties to the Black community in San Francisco, making frequent visits to the city, where he stayed in Black boarding houses.[25] In July of 1862, he represented Sonoma County at the Grand Festival of the Colored Citizens of San Francisco commemorating the emancipation of slavery in the British West Isles and the District of Columbia.[26] Six months later, upon President Abraham Lincoln’s signing of the Emancipation Proclamation, he joined in a large celebration held at Platt’s Hall on Montgomery Street in the city.[27]

By 1863, Miller’s wife Catherine had given birth to two more children, bringing the total number of school-age children in their house to four. Miller felt that it was time to establish a school for African American children in town. On December 4th, he organized a gathering of Petaluma’s Black community, presided over by John Richards of Santa Rosa. (Richards would personally fund the opening of Santa Rosa’s “colored school” a year later in January, 1865).[28] After the meeting, the group pooled their resources to rent a small house on Washington Street and furnish it with seats and desks.

They also began recruiting for a teacher in the pages of the Pacific Appeal. A young Black woman from San Francisco named Mrs. Rachel Coursey, responded to the query. Despite having been married just six months before to John G. Coursey, a music teacher at the Bethel A.M.E. Church in San Francisco, Rachel Coursey came to Petaluma and began teaching at the so-called “colored school” on opening day, January 11, 1864.[29]

Two months after the school opened, the California Supreme Court ruled that public school districts were required to provide “separate but equal” schools for Blacks, except in cases where there were fewer than ten such students in the district, in which case they would be integrated into white schools. At the time, there were 831 Black children of school age living in California. After some pushback, two years later, the Revised School Law of 1866 specified that in the event a town had fewer than ten Black children, the school district could integrate those students into its white schools, assuming that a majority of the white parents didn’t object—a clause that would later become a bone of contention in Petaluma.[30]

Although Petaluma’s “colored school” had only eight students, George Miller’s group succeeded in obtaining public funding for their “colored school” after the passage of the new school law, thanks in part to Petaluma’s new Superintendent of Public Schools, Rev. Edward S. Lippitt, a Republican abolitionist minister originally from Connecticut.[31] By the end of 1864, Petaluma was identified as one of six California cities with a public-funded “colored school,” the others being San Francisco, Sacramento, Marysville, San Jose, and Stockton.[32]

Miller’s group also launched plans in 1864 to establish an Black church in Petaluma.[33] For help, they turned to the A.M.E.’s Presiding Elder, Rev. Thomas M.D. Ward of San Francisco’s Bethel A.M.E. Church. Miller knew Ward from the Colored Conventions, where Ward had played a major role. Ward traveled by steamer to Petaluma where, in a makeshift church, he delivered a Sunday sermon entitled “The Importance of Mental and Moral Culture Among the Colored People of America.”[34]

By 1965, Miller’s group had secured the use of a house near the northwest corner of Western Avenue and Howard Street, believed to be the Greek Revival house at 109 Howard Street, to serve as Petaluma’s A.M.E. Church.[35]

A.M.E. Church, 109 Howard Street, in 1871 map (map courtesy of Sonoma County Library and Isabel Fischer)

Rev. Ward assigned seventy-five year-old Peter Killingsworth to serve as pastor.[36] Born into slavery in South Carolina, Killingsworth had immigrated to California in 1857 after purchasing his and his wife’s freedom in Atlanta, Georgia, for $3,000 ($93,000 in early 21st century currency).

Soon after they reached California foothills, Killingsworth’s wife died in El Dorado County. The reverend consoled himself knowing that “her bones lie in the free soil of El Dorado.”[37] Prior to being assigned to Petaluma, Killingsworth had served as a clergy member of the Bethel A.M.E. Church in Sacramento, and as one of their traveling preachers with assignments in Grass Valley, Nevada County, and San Jose.[38]

Petaluma’s A.M.E. Church opened sometime in the summer of 1865, and was formally dedicated in a ceremony presided over by the Rev. Ward on December 10, 1865, an event that also served as a fundraiser to address the $150 debt still looming over the church ($2,400 in early 21st century currency).[39]

109 Howard Street today, site of original African Methodist Episcopal Church (photo courtesy of Scott Hess)

Rev. Killingworth would sometimes feature A.M.E. pastors from other parts of California to deliver Sunday services, as well as invite white men and women from the local Methodist Episcopal Church, where School Superintendent Rev. Edward S. Lippitt served as pastor, to teach at Sunday school classes.[40] In addition to serving as a place of worship and religious education, the church also provided a meeting place for George Miller and other members of the Black community interested in securing their civil rights.[41]

Methodist Episcopal Church at the corner of Keller Street and Western Avenue, 1885 (photo Sonoma County Library)

To that end, in November of 1865, Rev. Killingsworth attended the fourth Colored Convention in Sacramento, where he served as Sonoma County’s sole representative and also the convention’s chaplain. In his report on Sonoma County, Killingsworth noted that the county had seventy Black residents, comprised of fifty-five adults and twenty children.

Twelve of the adults were general laborers, ten farmers, seven barbers, two blacksmiths, and two carpenters. Together, their combined property holdings were estimated to have a total valuation of $25,000 ($400,000 in early 21st century currency). Killingsworth also noted that the county had one Black church and one Black schoolhouse (Santa Rosa’s “colored school” was clearly operating at that time, but it’s not certain that Petaluma’s was still active).[42]

The members of the Colored Convention were generally hopeful that year, seeking to capitalize on California’s changing social and political climate in the wake of the Emancipation Proclamation, the end of the Civil War, and California’s Republican-dominated legislature led by Governor Leland Stanford, which, in 1863, had repealed California’s ban on blacks testifying in court against whites. The convention’s Committee on Education revised their proposal from their earlier conventions, once again calling on the legislature to end segregated public education in California.[43]

Their call went unanswered thanks to the Democrats in the state legislature, who also succeeded in blocking California’s ratification of the Fourteenth Amendment to the U.S. Constitution guaranteeing civil rights to Blacks, and the Fifteenth Amendment granting Black men the right to vote (California, in fact, would not ratify these two amendments until the civil rights movement of the 1950s and 1960s). Ultimately, it was national ratification of the two amendments in 1868 and 1870 respectively that extended these rights to California Blacks.[44]

Miller had a near death experience in August 1866, when the steam engine of the Petaluma & Haystack Railroad he had just boarded at the depot in town, killing four people and injuring many others, including Miller, whose arm was broken.[45]

As the school year began in July 1867, Petaluma had 627 school-age children between the ages of five and fifteen, eight of whom were black.[46] Petaluma’s “colored school” however was clearly shut down by the fall of 1867 when Philip A. Bell, editor of The Elevator, a Black newspaper in San Francisco that Bell spun off from the Pacific Appeal in 1865, came to Petaluma to lecture on the topic of education at the bequest of Rev. Killingsworth.

Drawing of Philip A. Bell, editor of The Elevator (courtesy of blackpast.org)

The day before Bell’s scheduled lecture, the trustees of Petaluma’s A.M.E. Church overruled Rev. Killingsworth, cancelling the talk. Bell, an articulate and outspoken advocate of education for Black children, instead spent the weekend attending Rev. Killingsworth’s Sunday sermon at the church and being introduced around the community by Petaluma’s two Black barbers, George Miller and Frank Miller. [47]

By the time of Bell’s visit, George Miller and Frank Miller were both prospering in their tonsorial businesses, one of the few areas, along with boot black, livery, restaurant, and drayage businesses, that a Black man could reasonably expect sufficient white patronage to be able to work for himself (Black women also worked for themselves, operating hair salons, dressmaking businesses, restaurants, and hiring out as nursemaids and midwives).[48]

Still, Black businesses faced unique risks, as Frank Miller experienced soon after expanding his barbershop to include a bathing salon “for exclusive use of the Ladies” called the Crystal Baths. Late one night his shop windows were smashed out, assumedly by members of the local Ku Klux Klan.[49] Undeterred, Miller repaired the damage and added a new ladies hair salon to his business, featuring “the latest Paris styles” from a Miss Aralena Purnell, “recently arrived from Philadelphia.”[50]

The twenty-six year old Purnell was the daughter of Zedekiah J. Purnell, a barber, literary scholar, and popular orator in Philadelphia, who had recently relocated his family to Petaluma.[51] His daughter Aralena was an educated and trained operatic singer who, prior to coming to California, had undertaken singing tours of Pennsylvania, New York, and New England. In addition to working for Frank Miller as a hairdresser, she and her sister Louisa began performing concerts to rave reviews at Petaluma’s Hinshaw Hall on Main Street just north of Washington Street.[52]

After discovering the Purnell sisters in Petaluma, Philip Bell of The Elevator recruited them to perform at a musical benefit in San Francisco to a white and Black audience of fifteen hundred people. For the Purnell sisters, it became the first of many subsequent performances in the city.[53] In 1870, Zedekiah Purnell and his family left Petaluma for Oakland, where in 1877, Purnell mounted the first Black candidacy for the Oakland city council. He withdrew from the campaign upon the unexpected death of his daughter Aralena at the age of thirty-six.[54]

Philip Bell would make subsequent trips to Petaluma, but he summed up his first visit to town by noting that its Black community was relatively cautious and conservative. “Many of them cannot disengage themselves from their old ideas engendered while in slavery in Virginia and Missouri,” he wrote. “They have no ideas of progress.”

The Elevator newspaper, launched in 1865 by Philip A. Bell

Bell also reported that while George Miller had exerted himself to obtain educational privileges from the local school district with a “colored school,” the effort had not been sustained by a majority of other Black residents, which was why, he contended, the trustees had cancelled his talk on education.[55]

By 1869, things began to change for Petaluma’s A.M.E. Church. In April of that year, Rev. T.M.D. Ward, now a bishop, came to Petaluma to visit Rev. Killingsworth. A few weeks later, Killingsworth, then eighty years old, gave one last sermon before leaving Petaluma for a new A.M.E. parish in Oregon, before returning to preach at the Bethel A.M.E. in Sacramento, where he died in 1872.[56]

Killingsworth was not replaced by a new pastor in Petaluma. Instead, the church appears to have operated under the supervision of the A.M.E. elder for Sonoma and Napa counties, with visiting ministers coming through from time to time. As he departed Petaluma, Killingworth appointed a group trustees —Lewis Barnes, Cooper Smith, Thomas Johnson, and Alex McFarland— to oversee all operations of the church.[57]

Three of the trustees—Barnes, Smith, and McFarland—owned homes on Fifth Street between E and F streets in town. The oldest among them, Alexander McFarland, was born into slavery in Tennessee in 1794 and brought to California by his owner in 1850, where he eventually purchased his freedom. McFarland and his wife Melvina, who was from Florida, married in Sonoma County in 1865 when McFarland was seventy, and adopted a daughter named Eliza.[58]

The next oldest, Lewis Barnes, was born into slavery at Harper’s Ferry, West Virginia, in 1801, sold twice on the auction block, and brought to California in the 1849 as a slave of a Mr. Cassidy, eventually working his way to freedom and settling in Petaluma in 1855 with his wife Peggy, who had originally been brought to Santa Rosa by her owners, the Overton family. “Uncle” or “Father” Barnes, as he was known around town, worked as a general laborer.[59] The two younger trustees were also general laborers.

Irwin Cooper Smith lived next door to McFarland on Fifth Street with his wife Elizabeth. Both were born slaves—he in North Carolina in 1831, and she in Georgia in 1830. Smith came to California during the Gold Rush to work for his owner in the mines. After two years, he was able to purchase his freedom. Thomas Johnson lived on Petaluma Boulevard South (then Third Street) with his wife Julianna and their three small children. Thomas had been born into slavery in Virginia in 1825, and Elizabeth in South Carolina in 1837. They settled in Petaluma in 1863.[60]

Although George Miller was no longer a trustee of the A.M.E. Church, he continued his efforts to advance Petaluma Blacks by serving as a conduit to larger Black organizations in the state. One of the most vital of these was the fraternal order of the Black Masons, whose membership rolls read like a who’s who of California Black leadership.[61] Miller was a member of the Olive Branch Lodge, which like other Black lodges, had descended from the Black Freemasons established for freed slaves in Boston during the War of Independence by a Black man named Prince Hall.

Prince Hall Lodge gathering, circa 1900 (photo courtesy of the Journal of African American History)

While the Prince Hall Lodges had been officially chartered by the Grand Lodge of England, they were still not recognized by the white Mason lodges in America a century later when Miller joined the Olive Branch Lodge, where he served as Deputy District Master for Petaluma.[62]

Miller was also a member of the Brannan Guard, a Black militia organized in San Francisco in 1866 by John Jones, James Riker, and Alexander G. Dennison. Volunteer militias had become popular in the country following the Civil War, serving as something of a national guard. The Brannan Guards were named after California pioneer Sam Brannan, who had helped to pay for their uniforms.[63] Comprised of forty-five members, they maintained an armory on Pacific Street in the city, and marched with white militias in parades on special occasions like Independence Day. They also staged their own an annual celebration of the Emancipation Proclamation at the beginning of each year.

In the summer of 1869, a white militia called the Hewston Guard had been commissioned in Petaluma by California’s governor, Henry Haight. Led by Captain James Armstrong, they were provided with an armory in the Hopper Building on Main Street opposite Penry Park.[64] That fall, George Miller decided to form a black militia he called the Colfax Guard, named for the newly elected U.S. vice-president, Schuyler Colfax.

Before becoming U.S. Grant’s running mate in the election of 1868, Colfax had served as Speaker of the House, where he helped guide through the congress both the Thirteenth Amendment abolishing slavery and the Fourteenth Amendment protecting the civil rights of former slaves. (Speaker Colfax made a visit to Petaluma in 1865 to visit his stepfather’s brother from Indiana, Elias Matthews).[65]

U.S. Vice-president Schuyler Colfax (photo courtesy Getty Images)

Although not commissioned by Democratic Governor Haight, an openly white supremacist, Miller’s militia become the third Black unit of the Colfax Guard formed in the country that year, joining units already established in New Orleans and Annapolis, Maryland.[66]

On December 30, 1869, the Colfax Guard, joined by Petaluma’s Hewston Guard, inaugurated their  new armory on Washington Street with a “Flag Presentation” that featured a large brass band and presentations by both Captain Miller and his wife Margaret. The festivities were followed by a dinner and a dance that lasted until dawn, with music provided by Miller’s own quadrille, or square dancing, band.[67]

On April 1, 1870, the day after the Fifteenth Amendment had been ratified and signed by President Ulysses S. Grant, Miller served as Marshal of the Day for the first formal celebration of the amendment held in the state of California. The festivities began with the Colfax Guard staging at noon in Hill Plaza a 30-gun salute—one gun for each state that had ratified the amendment—followed in the evening by what the Petaluma Argus called a “general jollification” by “the colored people of this city,” across the street from the plaza in Hinshaw Hall.

After the Petaluma Brass Band played to a packed hall, Rev. R.W. Johnson of the First Baptist Church offered a prayer that Blacks would use their newly acquired political power “to the glory and advancement of the whole country.” Miller then read aloud the amendment and a declaration of principles, before introducing Rev. Edward S. Lippitt, the former superintendent of schools who had since become the principal of his own private high school on D Street.[68]

In his oration, Lippitt was keen to distinguish between political and social rights, noting that “the mere exercise of the ballot was not a key to society, and no matter how far the freedom of the polls might be extended, yet individuality and social relations were not in the least compromised thereby.”

That had been a Republican theme throughout the battle for the 15th Amendment, with many Republicans denying that extension of the franchise conferred nor advanced social equality. Lippitt furthered the point, made by Rev. Johnson, that “the colored people” should educate their race up to the requirements of their new responsibilities, a theme that was expressed in editorials and speeches elsewhere during the next few weeks.

Postcard map of Petaluma, 1870 (Illustration Sonoma County Library)

Weeks later the Colfax Guard also joined in San Francisco’s Fifteenth Amendment celebration, which featured the singing talents of Petaluma’s Purnell sisters, Aralena and Louisa. When election time rolled around in the fall of 1870, George Miller and thirteen other Black men in Petaluma cast their votes for the first time.[69]

A year later, on May 10, 1871, Miller learned the limitations of his new voting status when Petaluma constable Frank Adel happened upon his barbershop one day during a lull in customers. Adel, who was having trouble finding jurors for a criminal case, decided to give the Fifteenth Amendment a test and summon Miller to jury duty. Miller marched into the courtroom and took his seat to the gasps of other jurors. Someone yelled out, “Nigger in the pit, put him out!” After a few preliminary questions by the deputy district attorney, Miller was issued a peremptory challenge and sent on his way.[70]

Call in The Elevator to 1870 Color Convention of the Pacific Coast, featuring George W. Miller as President of the Executive Committee

Soon after that event, George Miller and other Black parents in Petaluma began to lobby the school district to reopen the “colored school.” The town’s Black population had grown to forty-four, twenty-two of whom were school-age children.[71] George Miller, whose wife Catherine died in the mid-1860s, had remarried in 1868 to a twenty-year old woman from San Francisco named Margaret Nugent.[72] In addition to the four school-age children living in the house from his first wife, Miller and his second wife Margaret had added two infants, Richard Hoddie Miller, born in 1869, and James Harris Miller born on January 1, 1871 (James would die in 1872, one day after his first birthday).[73]

Brooklyn Colored School in Oakland, Mary J. Sanderson teacher, 1870 (photo in the public domain)

There was also a sixth child living in the house, a white boy named Richard Page Jessup, that the Millers had taken in as something of a foster child. Jessup was born in 1866 out of wedlock as the result of an affair in Marysville between a white couple, Gershom Page Jessup, the local manager of the California Stage Company, and Josie Landis, a local nineteen year old woman attending the Mills Seminary boarding school in Santa Cruz. Without the knowledge of Landis’ parents, Jessup took her out of school in her last moth of pregnancy to live at the home of a black woman in San Francisco named Mrs. Abigail Nugent. Nugent, who had arrived in San Francisco from Philadelphia in 1856, was a midwife and nurse to women in the “400 Club,” the city’s social elite.

A few weeks after giving birth to a son, Landis returned to Marysville, where within months she wedded a local dentist. Gershom Jessup, who the year before had inherited a small fortune from his deceased brother Richard, vice-president of the California Steam Navigation company, paid Abigail Nugent to continue raising his son, visiting him frequently at Nugent’s home. Nugent, a prominent member and donor of San Francisco’s Bethel A.M.E. church, had the child baptized in the church by Rev. T. M. D. Ward, and brought him up assisted by her eighteen-year old daughter Margaret, an only child.[74]

Two years later, Margaret Nugent wed the widower George Miller, and joined him living with his children in Petaluma. In 1869, she gave birth to the couple’s first son, Richard “Hoddie” Miller.[75]

Richard “Hoddie” Miller, 1887 (photo courtesy of Sharon mcGriff Payne)

That same year, Margaret’s mother, brought Richard Jessup, a sickly child, to live with the Millers in Petaluma, hoping to improve his health. Mrs. Nugent lived with the Millers as well, working on fundraising for the local A.M.E. Church, before returning to San Francisco in 1871.[76] She left behind Richard Jessup, who had his own separate room in the Miller home, to be raised among the Millers’ children, with Gershom Jessup continuing to provide monthly financial support. [77]

In 1871, George Miller and other African American parents in Petaluma succeeded in convincing J.W. Anderson, who had replaced Rev. Edward S. Lippitt as the town’s school superintendent, to their cause. “The colored citizens,” Anderson said, “are clamoring for a school, and should have one.” The school district rented a dilapidated house on Fifth Street between D and E streets to house the “colored school,” and in January of 1872 hired A.G.W. Davis, a young man just beginning his teaching career, to teach the twelve African American students who had enrolled. That year Petaluma joined nineteen other “colored schools” in California teaching a total of 510 students.[78]

The Millers enrolled their three younger children in the “colored school,” as well their white foster child, Richard Jessup, who attended under the name Richard Miller. The next year Jessup transferred to the white school, but after a week of being taunted by the other students, he withdrew, after which he was homeschooled by his foster mother Margaret Miller.

Margaret Miller, 1886 (photo courtesy of Sharon McGriff Payne)

At the start of the school year in July, 1873, eighteen-year old Miss Rose Haskins was appointed teacher of the “colored school.”[79] Haskin lived just half a block away from the “colored school,” in the house her father, English contractor and stonemason Robert Haskins, had built on the southeast corner of 5th and E streets. Enrollment that year totaled seventeen students, two of whom were Chinese.[80] In July, 1874, the school district, after complaints about the school’s ramshackle condition, moved the “colored school” into a former private school at the northeast corner of Fifth and D streets.[81]

During Rose Haskins’ first semester in the fall of 1873, the Petaluma Argus, a weekly newspaper edited by Henry L. Weston under the motto “equal rights and equal justice to all men,” began a campaign employed by other Republican newspapers in the state of questioning the cost efficiency of maintaining a separate school for such a small number of Black students (the Radical Republican Party, of which Weston was a member, were abolitionists supportive of expanding civil rights, including school integration, while the southern-dominated Democratic Party, for which Santa Rosa’s Sonoma Democrat newspaper served as the county organ, was strongly opposed to granting such rights).

Petluma Argus editor, Henry L. Weston (Photo Sonoma County Library)

Weston pointed out that, given Haskins’ salary and rent for a separate school building, the average annual cost of educating a student in the “colored school” was $35, as opposed to $12 in Petaluma’s white schools ($1,100 and $370, respectively, in early 21st century currency). Denouncing school segregation as an abomination, Weston declared that the “colored school” must soon “fade away before the ceaseless march of progress and civilization.”[82]

George Miller, meanwhile, remained actively engaged in that ceaseless march on a statewide level. In November of 1871, he and other members of the Colored Convention’s Educational Committee met in Stockton to draw up a petition calling for all school children, regardless of color, to be admitted to common public schools.[83]

Although they succeeded in getting two bills passed by Republicans—then the progressive party—in the state assembly, both were defeated by Democrats—then the conservative, proslavery party—in the state senate. In the spring of 1872, Miller again gathered with the Educational Committee in San Francisco, and under the leadership of Elevator newspaper editor Philip Bell, decided to put a test case before the California Supreme Court.[84]

The case was initiated by Mrs. Harriet A. Ward on behalf of her daughter Mary Frances. After the closing of a “colored school” on Broadway Street in San Francisco, Mary Frances was faced with having to walk a long distance to the nearest available “colored school” across town. Instead, Harriet A. Ward applied for admission of her daughter to the nearby white Broadway School. Her application was denied by Principal Noah F. Flood.

The case of Ward v. Flood became the first school segregation case to go before the state Supreme Court. In May, 1874, the court ruled on the case, upholding California’s School Law of “separate but equal” facilities for Blacks and Native American children, but also affirming that, based upon the civil rights extended by the Fourteenth Amendment ratified in 1868, the education of Black and Native American children must be provided for in separate schools upon the written application of parents of at least ten such children. If the trustees of the schools failed to do so, the children had to be admitted into the white schools.[85]

For the members of the Educational Committee, the ruling overall was disappointing, but it also represented an incremental victory in that it clearly mandated the public education of Black children, including admitting them into white schools if need be. With the ruling in hand, committee members turned their efforts to lobbying school districts to abolish “colored schools.” They were helped by the Recession of 1873, during which school districts, strapped for funding, opted to enroll black students rather than fund two separate school systems. By 1875, San Francisco, Sacramento, Oakland, and Vallejo had done so.[86] But not Petaluma.

As the school year began in July, 1875, Rose Haskins was promoted to a teaching position at the Brick School, Petaluma’s main grammar school for white students, at Fifth and B streets. She was replaced at the “colored school” by her cousin, Miss Annie Camm, the daughter of local English contractor William Camm.[87] A few months into Camm’s tenure, Henry Jones, a native of Massachusetts who had recently opened a new barbershop on Washington Street, complained about Camm’s competency in teaching his son at the ungraded “colored school.” He requested that Principal Martin E. Cooke Munday of the Brick School admit his son to the white school.[88]

Petaluma Brick School at the corner of Fifth and B streets, 1900 (Photo Sonoma County Library)

Munday, a young leader of the local Democratic Party, claimed to have examined Jones’ son—a claim Jones subsequently denied—and found him to be unqualified for entry into the Brick school. Privately, he told Jones that “no colored child should be admitted as long as he was principal of the school.” Jones, who pointed out that he paid school taxes just like everyone else in town, told the Petaluma Argus that he was “just looking for some justice.”

Instead of returning his son to the “colored school,” Jones placed him in a private school.[89] (Although this incident occurred in 1875, it was not made public until 1877 when the Argus reported it in an effort to embarrass Principal Munday, who at the time was running for county school superintendent. Munday ended up losing to the race to the Republican candidate, but subsequently went on to be elected to the state assembly and then to mount an unsuccessful campaign for Lieutenant Governor.)[90]

In the fall of 1876, a new weekly newspaper, the Petaluma Courier, was launched by two leading Democrats in town, publisher William F. Shattuck, and editor Edward S. Lippitt, the former school supervisor. Lippitt, who had formerly served as chairman of the Sonoma County Republican Party, was a longtime progressive abolitionist and supporter of the local Black community.

Following ratification of the Fifteenth Amendment in 1870, George Miller and other African Americans had paraded with a band to Lippitt’s house, where they presented him with two silver spoons adorned with Lady Liberty in recognition of his “fearless and able advocacy of their rights, and of universal suffrage.”[91]

Lippitt house at Sixth & D streets, 1959 (photo Sonoma County Library)

In 1876 however, Lippitt, distressed and angered by what he considered the Republican Party’s retribution against the South during the Reconstruction Era, switched his allegiances to the pro-South Democratic Party. He and Shattuck launched the Courier as an advocacy organ for Democratic candidates running in the 1876 election, including presidential candidate Samuel Tilden. They wasted no time attacking the Republican positions held by Henry Weston’s Argus, labeling the paper a “negro-worshipping sheet” for its stand on integrating Black students into the white schools.[92]

(Later in life, Lippitt wrote that although he believed in freeing the slaves, he did not expect Blacks to be granted the vote until they had been properly educated to execute it, which he suspected may take generations; he deplored passage of the Fifteenth Amendment as merely a Republican political maneuver to humiliate the South.)[93]

Edward S. Lippitt, 1910 (photo Sonoma County Library)

One result of the newspaper war waged between the Argus and the Courier in 1876 is that the “colored school” became a polarizing topic. Ezekiel Denman, one of the town’s most prominent and wealthiest men, was defeated in his 1876 re-election bid to the Board of Education after voicing support for eliminating the “colored school.”[94] The Board’s stubborn refusal to abolish the “colored school” went viral in 1877, drawing ridicule from newspapers from as far away as San Francisco (“an ante-rebellion spirit of caste is still alive and dominate in Petaluma”) and Pennsylvania (“a great blotch on the face of human progress”).[95]

The presidential election of 1876 was undermined by voter fraud, resulting in an deal between Republicans and Democrats to allow Republican Rutherford B. Hayes to ascend to the presidency, on the condition that he formally end Reconstruction in the South. The end of Reconstruction reversed whatever gains Blacks had made since the Civil War, ushering in an era of Jim Crow laws, voter suppression, and lynchings.

During this period, many Blacks living in Petaluma were drawn away to more vibrant Black communities in Oakland and in Vallejo, the latter of which offered jobs in the nearby Mare Island shipyards.[96]

Vallejo wharf, 1860s (photo in the public domain)

By the spring of 1877, enrollment in the “colored school” had dropped to four students, which Henry Weston was quick to point out in the Argus raised the annual cost per student to $125, as opposed to $12 for students in the white schools.[97] Still, Petaluma’s Board of Education held its ground.

The following spring, Miss Annie Camm resigned from teaching at the “colored school” in order to get married.[98] She was replaced by Miss Mary C. Waterbury.[99] By 1880, Petaluma’s “colored school” was down to merely one student who was being taught by a Black teacher named Miss Louisa Dickson.[100] The population census year listed only seventeen Blacks living in Petaluma.[101]

In April, 1880, the California state legislature voted to abolish “colored schools,” citing the expense of providing a separate education system for a relatively small number of children. They passed a new law requiring that schools be open “for the admission of all children.”[102] At the beginning of the new school year in July 1880, E.S. Lippitt’s Petaluma Courier, unwilling to acknowledge the new law, spuriously reported that the “colored school” had been discontinued after enrollment had dwindled down to but one student.”[103]

In 1882, there were four Black students enrolled in the newly integrated Petaluma public schools. By 1885, there were none.[104]

As the size of Petaluma’s Black community declined at the end of the Reconstruction Era, the local A.M.E. Church lost what remained of its vibrancy. After the A.M.E.’s final appointment of Rev. Fielding Smithea to the church in 1878, it appears the church stopping offering Sunday services altogether.[105] In 1879, William Zartman, a prominent business leader in town who owned a carriage factory across the street from the church as well as property adjacent to it, filed a city nuisance petition against the “colored folks church,” signed by a dozen neighbors.[106]

William Zartman’s Blacksmith, Wagon, and Carriage Shop, corner of Howard Street and Western Avenue, 1877 (Photo Sonoma County Library)

In 1885, the church’s two surviving trustees, Alexander McFarlane and Irwin Cooper Smith, sold the church building and property to Zartman for $300 ($8,000 in early 21st century currency), distributing the proceeds from the sale to other A.M.E churches in the state.[107]

White men’s fondness for their Black barbers didn’t last. The reasons were varied: The temperance movement and the evangelical religious revivals of the “Second Great Awakening” caused many customers to frown upon the barbershop’s liquor-fueled conviviality. The most important explanation for whites’ anxiety about the shop, however, involved Black barbers’ growing wealth.

For many, the success of leading Black barbers seemed to threaten the social order. As white customers were shaved by men with fortunes worth many thousands of dollars, some must have wondered who was serving whom. Meanwhile, at the other end of the social spectrum, immigrant barbers—many of them Germans—catered to a growing population of working-class customers: men too poor, and in many cases too resentful of Black barbers’ success, to patronize the best Black-owned barbershops. A handful of elite Black barbers continued to prosper, but the days when Blacks dominated the trade were coming to an end.[108]

Frank Miller, who by the 1870s had become Petaluma’s most prosperous Black citizens with property holdings of fifteen hundred dollars and a personal estate worth four hundred dollars ($38,000 and $10,000, respectively, in early 21st century currency), was working in 1878 as a barber in the Union Hotel, located at the southwest corner of Western Avenue and Main Street. By the time the hotel was moved in 1881 to B and Main streets to make way for construction of the new Masonic Lodge building, it appears Miller and his wife Charlotte, who he had married in 1871, relocated to San Francisco where they managed a boarding house together.[110]

George W. Miller did not live to see any of this—the decline of Black barbershops in town, California’s integration of public schools, the end of Reconstruction, nor the closing of the A.M.E. church he had helped to start. In the fall of 1873, after returning from one of his regular trips to San Francisco with his wife Margaret, and preparing for the upcoming Colored Citizens Convention to be held in Sacramento, Miller unexpectedly died on October 20 at the age of forty-eight.

Illustration of a Colored Convention held in 1876 (Frank Leslie’s Illustrated Newspaper)

His funeral, held at St. John’s Episcopal Church in town, was overseen by his fellow barber Frank Miller. The pallbearers included Santa Rosa barber John Richards, Napa Barber Joseph Hatton, and fellow Brannan Guard, Major Alexander Dennison, who had recently moved to Petaluma.[111]

A few weeks after the funeral, Frank Miller and Alexander Dennison traveled to Sacramento to represent Sonoma County at the Colored Citizens of California Convention in place of George Miller.[112]

******


FOOTNOTES:

[1] Advertisement, Sonoma County Journal: August 25, 1855; September 5, 1856. “Deaths: George Miller,” Pacific Appeal, October 25, 1873.

[2] Amy S. Greenberg, Manifest Manhood and the Antebellum American Empire (Cambridge, UK: Cambridge University Press, 2005).

[3] Rudolph Lapp, Blacks in Gold Rush California (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1977), p. 15-19; Delilah Leontium Beasley, The Negro Trail Blazers of California (Los Angeles: Times Mirror Printing,1919) p. 71.

[4] Delilah Leontium Beasley, The Negro Trail Blazers of California (Los Angeles: Times Mirror Printing,1919) p. 42;“Proceedings of the First State Convention of the Colored Citizens of the State of California, Held at Sacramento Nov. 21st and 22nd in the Colored Methodist Church, 1855.” http://coloredconventions.org/items/show/265

[5] Douglas W. Bristol, Knights of the Razor: Black Barbers in Slavery and Freedom (Johns Hopkins University Press, 2015).

[6] Sean Trainor, “The Racially Fraught History of the American Beard,” The Atlantic, January 20, 2014.

[7] Sean Trainor, “The Racially Fraught History of the American Beard,” The Atlantic, January 20, 2014.

[8] Douglas Walter Bristol, Knights of the Razor: Black Barbers on Slavery and Freedom (Baltimore: John Hopkins University Press, 2009). J. Gordon Melton, J. Gordon, A Will to Choose: The Origins of African American Methodism (MD: Rowman & Littlefield, 2007) pp. 8–11.

[9] Herbert G. Ruffin II, “The Conventions of Colored Citizens of the State of California (1855-1865),” February 9, 2009. BlackPast.com; Proceedings of the First State Convention of the Colored Citizens of the State of California, p.16, https://omeka.coloredconventions.org/files/original/e2ddec1776e38c21ee7782d6b4d96eba.pdf

[10] Gaye LeBaron, et. Al., Santa Rosa: A Nineteen Century Town (Santa Rosa, CA: Historia, LTD, 1985), p. 87.“State Convention of the Colored People of California, San Francisco, October, 1857.” Coloredconventions.org. http://coloredconventions.org/items/show/267. ; “State Convention of the Colored People of California, San Francisco, October, 1856,” p.133, Coloredconventions.org.https://omeka.coloredconventions.org/items/show/266.

[11] Adair Heig, History of Petaluma,: A California River Town, (Petaluma, CA: Scottwall Associates, 1982), p. 47.

[12] Sean Carroll, Sonoma County Early African Americans, paper for California State University, Hayward, 2008. Sonoma Country History & Genealogy Library.

[13] Mike McPhate, “California’s Black Slaves and the Myth of Free Soil,” California Sun, January 23, 2019. Californiasun.com.

[14] Journal of the Eighth Session of the Legislature of the State of California, Volume 9, Part 1858, p. 623; Sharon McGriff-Payne, John Grider’s Century: African Americans in Solano, Napa, and Sonoma Counties from 1845 to 1925 (iUniverse, 2009). Pgs. 17-18.

[15] Delilah Leontium Beasley, The Negro Trail Blazers of California (Los Angeles: Times Mirror Printing, 1919) pgs. 59-61.

[16] Charles Wollenberg, All Deliberate Speed: Segregation and Exclusion in California Schools, 1855-1975. (Berkeley, CA: University of California Press, 1976), p. 25.

[17] J. Gordon Melton, J. Gordon, A Will to Choose: The Origins of African American Methodism (MD: Rowman & Littlefield, 2007) pp. 8–11; Philip S. Foner and George E. Walker, editors, The Proceedings of the Black State Conventions, 1840-1865, Volume 2 (Temple University Press, 1979).

[18] Petaluma Argus: Humboldt Shaving Saloon Advertisement, December 15, 1863; “Passing Away,” July 30, 1862.

[19] Advertisement for “Frank Miller’s Hairdressing Saloon,” Petaluma Argus, January 23, 1863.

[20] https://blackvoicenews.com/2008/07/31/mirror-of-the-times-founded-1857/

[21] “Agents,” Pacific Appeal, January 17, 1863.

[22] “Communications,” Pacific Appeal, April 26, 1862.

[23] Advertisement for the Santa Rosa Shaving Saloon, Sonoma Democrat, June 20, 1861.

[24] “Our Principal Taxpayers,” Petaluma Courier, January 31, 1878. “Death of John Richards,” Petaluma Argus, May 2, 1879.

[25] “Arrivals,” The Elevator, September 20, 1873.

[26] “Emancipation Grand Festival,” Pacific Appeal, July 26, 1862.

[27] Celebration of the Emancipation Proclamation of Jan. 1st, 1863, at Platt’s Hall,”  Pacific Appeal, January 17, 1863.

[28] Charles Wollenberg, All Deliberate Speed: Segregation and Exclusion in California Schools, 1855-1975. (Berkeley, CA: University of California Press, 1976), p. 25; Sharon McGriff-Payne, John Grider’s Century: African Americans in Solano, Napa, and Sonoma Counties from 1845 to 1925 (iUniverse, 2009), p. 24. “Correspondence,” Pacific Appeal, December 12, 1863. The Elevator: “Santa Rosa,”, July 4, 1865 (The Santa Rosa “colored school’ was entering its second semester in July, indicating the first started in January of 1865). “School Examination in Santa Rosa,” February 16, 1866.

[29] Petaluma Argus: “School for Colored Children,” December 16, 1863; “Opened,” January 13, 1864; Pacific Appeal: “Correspondence,” December 12, 1863, “Married,” June 27, 1863, “Arrivals from the Interior,” February 13, 1864.

[30] Charles Wollenberg, All Deliberate Speed: Segregation and Exclusion in California Schools, 1855-1975. (Berkeley, CA: University of California Press, 1976), p. 25.

[31] “Trip to Petaluma,” Pacific Appeal, January 30, 1864; Lippitt’s role is speculated given the silver spoons presented to him by Miller and other A.M.E. members in 1870 for his advocacy in helping them attain their civil rights.

[32] Charles Wollenberg, All Deliberate Speed: Segregation and Exclusion in California Schools, 1855-1975. (Berkeley, CA: University of California Press, 1976), p. 25; “Trip to Petaluma,” Pacific Appeal, January 30, 1864. (Eight students is an estimate–it’s unknown exactly how many students were in attendance during the Petaluma’s “colored school’s” first year. George Miller had four school-age children. In 1867 and 1868, Petaluma’s annual school census counted eight black school-age children between the ages of five and fifteen in town, out of a total of 627 children in the city.)

[33] “Trip to Petaluma,” Pacific Appeal, January 30, 1864.

[34] “Trip to Petaluma,” Pacific Appeal, January 30, 1864.

[35] City of Petaluma Deed Records, Lot 276, Sonoma Country History & Genealogy Library, Ref. 979.418.732. The church appears on the 1865 Stratton Map of Petaluma, at which time the lot it sat upon was legally owned by a homesteader named Thomas Craine, who owned a number of the subdivided lots in the area known as the Bassett Addition. Craine sold the church lot in 1866 to John Little John, who, in turn, transferred ownership to the A.M.E. Church, as recognized by the city as of January 1, 1867. It’s possible the church rented the building prior to that. (In his book, Petaluma’s Architectural Heritage, Dan Petersen notes that the houses on Howard Street between Western Avenue and Harris Street were typical examples of the western Greek Revival vernacular built for early residents. He dates the house at circa 1870).

[36] California State Convention of Colored Citizens, held in Sacramento on the 25, 26, 27, 28 of October 1865. P. 14., coloredconventions.org.

[37] California State Convention of Colored Citizens, held in Sacramento on the 25, 26, 27, 28 of October 1865. Coloredconventions.org.

[38] Delilah Leontium Beasley, The Negro Trail Blazers of California (Los Angeles: Times Mirror Printing,1919) p. 158. “The Appointments of the A. M. E. Church for the Conference,” Pacific Appeal, November 8, 1862; “The Appointments of the A. M. E. Church for the Conference,” Pacific Appeal, September 12, 1863; 1860 U.S. Census, Sacramento, California; 1861 Sacramento City Directory.

[39] Petaluma Argus: “Notice,” November 30, 1865; “Campbell’s Chapel, November 30, 1865. “Santa Rosa,” The Elevator, July 4, 1865, the first newspaper mention of Rev. Killingsworth at the A.M.E. Church in Petaluma.

[40] An Autobiography of Edward Spaulding Lippitt, edited by Lee Torliatt (Santa Rosa: Sonoma County Historical Society), p.42.

[41] Rudolph Lapp, Afro-Americans in California (San Francisco: Boyd and Fraser Publishing Company, 1987).

[42] “Proceedings of California Convention of Colored Citizens, 1865” http://coloredconventions.org/items/show/268, pgs. 14, 24. (no mention of Santa Rosa’s colored school” in Killingsworth’s report to the convention).

[43] Philip S. Foner and George E. Walker, editors, The Proceedings of the Black State Conventions, 1840-1865, Volume 2 (Temple University Press, 1979); Herbert G. Ruffin II, “The Conventions of Colored Citizens of the State of California (1855-1865),” February 9, 2009. BlackPast.com

[44] Stacey L. Smith, Freedom’s Frontier: California and the Struggle over Unfree Labor, Emancipation, and Reconstruction(The University of North Carolina Press; Reprint edition, 2015)

[45] “Frightful Explosion,” Petaluma Weekly Argus, August 30, 1866.

[46] Petaluma Argus: “School Census,” July 4, 1867, July 2, 1868, July 1, 1869, June 18, 1879.

[47] Delilah Leontium Beasley, The Negro Trail Blazers of California (Los Angeles: Times Mirror Printing,1919) p. 252-253. “Petaluma,” The Elevator, November 1, 1867.

[48] Sharon McGriff-Payne, John Grider’s Century: African Americans in Solano, Napa, and Sonoma Counties from 1845 to 1925 (iUniverse, 2009), p. 29.

[49] “Cowardly,” Petaluma Argus, April 30, 1868.

[50] Advertisement for Miss Purnell from Philadelphia, Petaluma Argus, December 24, 1868.

[51] “Acknowledgments,” The Elevator, January 29. 1869. “Remittances received from . . . Z. F. Purnell, Petaluma.”

[52] “Remember It,” Petaluma Argus, March 25, 1869; Site of Hinshaw Hall: “Ed Mannion’s Rear-View Mirror, Petaluma Argus-Courier, January 7, 1861.

[53] The Elevator: “Personal,” February 26, 1868; “Letter to the Editor, Miss Purnell’s Concert,” December 4, 1868. “Deaths,” Pacific Appeal, November 30, 1877. “A Dramatic Novelty,” San Francisco Examiner, November 22, 1870.

[54] Pacific Appeal: advertisement for concert, August 12, 1871; advertisement for board house, September 2, 1871; “Brilliant Fifteenth Amendment Celebration,” May 2, 1874; “Personal,” December 21, 1872; “Deaths,” November 30, 1877. The Elevator: “Letter to the Editor,” December 4, 1868; “Personal,” February 26, 1869; “Freedom’s Jubilee,” March 18,1870. San Francisco Examiner: “A Dramatic Novelty,” November 22, 1870. The Evening Telegraphy (Philadelphia): “Musicians,” March 30, 1867; “A Political Rumpus,” San Francisco Chronicle, February 18, 1877.

[55] The Elevator: “Petaluma,” November 1, 1867; “Correspondence of the Elevator,” February 19, 1869; California State Convention of Colored Citizens, held in Sacramento on the 25, 26, 27, 28 of October 1865. P. 14. http://coloredconventions.org/items/show/268

[56] “Lecture,” Grass Valley Daily Union, February 15, 1871; “General Dispatches,” Grass Valley Daily Union, December 3, 1871; 1871 California Voter Registration, Nevada County; “Died,” Sacramento Daily Union, September 28, 1872;

[57] Petaluma Argus, “Lecture,” May 20, 1869; “If a Man Die, Shall He Live Again?” October 19, 1872; “Religious Notice,” March 25, 1871; “Bishop Black at A.M.E. Church,” August 14, 1878. Legal Agreement by Killingsworth Assigning Church Trustees, May 18, 1869, Sonoma County Archives; “Zion Conference Appointments, The Elevator, April 7, 1877. (Note: McFarland is not listed in the May 18, 1869 legal agreement, but is listed as a trustee on the city deed records for the church entered January 25, 1869; he also is listed as a church trustee along with Cooper Smith the recorded sale of the church property October 3, 1885—from deed records at the Sonoma County History & Genealogy Library).

[58] “Uncle Aleck Dead,” Petaluma Argus, August 4, 1886. “Melvina & Alexander McFarland,” Sonoma Country History & Genealogy Library archives.

[59] “Death of a Septuagenarian,” Petaluma Argus, January 21, 1871.

[60] Katherine Rinehart research papers, Sonoma County History & Genealogy Library archives. Regarding Cooper Smith: Delilah Leontium Beasley, The Negro Trail Blazers of California (Los Angeles: Times Mirror Printing, 1919) p. 42.

[61] Sharon McGriff-Payne, John Grider’s Century: African Americans in Solano, Napa, and Sonoma Counties from 1845 to 1925 (iUniverse, 2009), p. 42.

[62] The Elevator: “Masonic Notice,” December 21, 1872; “Died,” October 25, 1873. “Prince Hall Freemasonary,” Freemason Information, freemasoniformation.com

[63] Delilah Leontium Beasley, The Negro Trail Blazers of California (Los Angeles: Times Mirror Printing, 1919) p. 146.

[64] “Commissions,” San Francisco Examiner, July 19, 1869; Petaluma Argus: “Target Excursion and Ball,” October 23, 1869. “Target Practice,” October 30, 1869.

[65] Douglas Henry Daniels, Pioneer Urbanites: A Social and Cultural History of Black San Francisco (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1990), p.133. Ovando James Hollister, Life of Schuyler Colfax (Funk & Wagnalls, 1886) p. 257; Schuyler Colfax, 17th Vice President (1869-1873), https://www.senate.gov/about/officers-staff/vice-president/VP_Schuyler_Colfax.htm.

[66] “Processiana,” New Orleans Cresent, September 13, 1868; “The Grand Demonstration,” New Orleans Republic, September 15, 1868; Miscellaneous,” The Daily Standard (Raleigh, NC), October 18, 1869.

[67] Petaluma Argus: “Flag Presentation,” January 1, 1869; “The Picnic,” July 9 1870.

[68] Petaluma Journal & Argus: “Celebration,”, February 25, 1870; “Jubilant,” April 2, 1870; “Celebration of Our Colored Citizens,” April 9, 1870; Ralph E. Shaffer, “California Reluctantly Implements the Fifteenth Amendment: White Californians Respond to Black Suffrage,” Cal Poly Pomona, 2020. https://www.cpp.edu/class/history/faculty/documents/shaffer15thamend.pdf

[69] Petaluma Argus, “They Voted,” April 23, 1870; Registration of the Domicile Inhabitants, County of Sonoma, 1872: George Miller listed as first registering to vote in 1870.

[70] “Nigger in the Pit! Put Him Out!” Petaluma Argus, May 13, 1871.

[71] 1870 Population Census.

[72] “Married,” The Elevator, June 26, 1868.

[73] 1870 census records; “Died,” Petaluma Argus, January 6, 1972.

[74] “Young Jessup Wins,” Napa Register Weekly, July 5, 1889; “Jessup Contest,” Napa Register Weekly, September 19, 1890; “Estate of Gershom P. Jessup, Deceased,”  Reports of Decisions in Probate, Volume 2, by California Superior court (San Francisco Probate dept., James Vincent Coffey, Bancroft-Whitney, 1909). Pp. 476-509.

[75] “Deaths,” San Francisco Chronicle, August 27, 1902.

[76] “Resolutions of Thanks,” Pacific Appeal, September 2, 1871;

[77] The 1870 census doesn’t list Richard Jessup in the Miller house but instead a child born in 1866 named “Richard Robinson,” most likely an alias to hide Jessup’s identity from his birth mother).

[78] Petaluma Argus: “Our Public Schools,” June 3, 1871; “Our Public Schools,” January 6, 1872; “Educational,” March 9, 1872; “The Public Schools,” July 20, 1872.

[79] Petaluma Argus: “Our Public Schools,” July 18, 1873;

[80] Petaluma Argus, “The Colored School,” November 7, 1873.

[81] Petaluma Argus: “Educational Notes,” July 17, 1874; “Colored Schools Elsewhere,” April 27, 1877. (E.S. Lippitt confirms that the “colored school’ was on the northeast corner of Fifth and B streets in An Autobiography of Edward Spaulding Lippitt, edited by Lee Torliatt, p. 42.)

[82] Petaluma Argus: “Our ‘Colored Schools,’” December 8, 1876.

[83] Delilah Leontium Beasley, The Negro Trail Blazers of California (Los Angeles: Times Mirror Printing,1919) pgs. 178-179.

[84] The Elevator: “Educational Public Meeting at Bethel Church,” April 27, 1872; Address of the Educational Committee, May 11, 1872.

[85] Delilah Leontium Beasley, The Negro Trail Blazers of California (Los Angeles: Times Mirror Printing,1919) p. 180-182; “1874 Ward V. Flood, Blackpast.org, https://www.blackpast.org/african-american-history/ward-v-flood-1874/

[86] Delilah Leontium Beasley, The Negro Trail Blazers of California (Los Angeles: Times Mirror Printing,1919) p. 180-182; Jo Ann Williamson, Lori Rhodes, Michael Dunson, “Chapter 7 A Selected History of Social Justice in Education,” Review of Research in Education, November 15, 2016, Vol. 31 (1), pp. 195–224; “1874 Ward V. Flood, Blackpast.org, https://www.blackpast.org/african-american-history/ward-v-flood-1874/

[87] Petaluma Argus, “Educational Notes,” June 25, 1875; “Educational Notes,” July 9, 1875.

[88] The Colored School,” Petaluma Courier, April, 12, 1877. Petaluma Argus: “Cozy Barber Shop,” April 23, 1875; “Died,” September 3, 1879; “Our Colored School,”

[89] Petaluma Courier: “The Colored School,” April, 12, 1877; “Letter from a Citizen,” April 19, 1877. Petaluma Argus: “The Colored School,” April 6, 1877; “The Colored School,” April 20, 1877; “Personalities,” August 31, 1877;  “How is This?” August 24, 1877.

[90] “The Election,” Petaluma Courier, September 6, 1877. “In the Assembly,” San Francisco Examiner, January 28, 1884.

[91] “A Splendid Testimony,” Petaluma Argus, June 25, 1870.

[92] Petaluma Courier, “The Negro School,” April 5, 1877.

[93] An Autobiography of Edward Spaulding Lippitt, edited by Lee Torliatt (Santa Rosa: Sonoma County Historical Society), p. 43.

[94] Petaluma Argus: “The Negro School,” April 5, 1877.

[95] Petaluma Argus: “Our ‘Colored Schools,’” December 22, 1876; “Educational Items,” August 13, 1875; “Our Colored School,” August 11, 1876; “A Pennsylvania Opinion,” May 18, 1877; “A Pennsylvania Opinion,” May 18, 1876.

[96] Sharon McGriff-Payne, John Grider’s Century: African Americans in Solano, Napa, and Sonoma Counties from 1845 to 1925 (iUniverse, 2009), p. 58.

[97] Petaluma Argus: March 30, 1877; “Our Colored School,” March 23, 1877.

[98] “Our Public Schools,” Petaluma Argus, June 14, 1878 (listed her as teaching for two months the spring). “Married,” Petaluma Courier, July 18, 1878.

[99] Petaluma Courier, “Election of Teachers,” June 19, 1878; “Teachers Elected,” January 8, 1879.

[100] Petaluma Courier, “The Public Schools,” June 18, 1879; History Of Sonoma County, Sonoma County, CA (Archives History – Books …..Petaluma Township, Part 3 1880).

[101] 1880 Population Census, Sonoma Country History and Genealogy.

[102] Charles Wollenberg, All Deliberate Speed: Segregation and Exclusion in California Schools, 1855-1975. (Berkeley, CA: University of California Press, 1976), 25.

[103] “Local Dots,” Petaluma Courier, July 21, 1880.

[104] Petaluma Argus: “School Census Report,” June 2, 1882;  “School Census,” June 6, 1885.

[105] “Sixteen Volume: A.M.E. Appointments, Pacific Appeal, August 10, 1878. Per the City of Petaluma Deed Records, Lot 276, Sonoma Country History & Genealogy Library, Ref. 979.418.732: Sold on October 3, 1885 by two trustees of the AME, a religious society not incorporated; includes a small frame structure; states it has been many years since any religious services were held, and that but four or five members of the society remain; remains of the sale to be extended to other A.M.E. churches throughout the state. Last service listed in the Petaluma Argus was August 14, 1878, when Bishop Black of Baltimore preached at the A.M.E. Church.

[106] “Petition of Wm Zartman et al.,” February 24, 1879, Sonoma County History and Genealogy Library archives.

[107] City of Petaluma Deed Records, Lot 276, Sonoma Country History & Genealogy Library, Ref. 979.418.732.

[108] Sean Trainor, “The Racially Fraught History of the American Beard,” The Atlantic, January 20, 2014; Douglas Walter Bristol, Knights of the Razor: Black Barbers on Slavery and Freedom (Baltimore: John Hopkins University Press, 2009).

[109]

[110] “Married,” Petaluma Argus, October 28, 1871. “Peggy’s Pecilings,” Petaluma Courier, May 13, 1891. McKenney’s District Directory for 1878-9 of Yolo, Solano, Napa, Lake, Marin, and Sonoma Counties, p. 274, Sonoma County History & Genealogy Library: Miller as listed as working in the Union Hotel, which at the time had a barbershop operated by Charles Whitehead, called Whitehead Shaving Saloon); it’s possible that Miller was working for Whitehad. “Miller and wife running board house . . .” Katherine Rinehart, biography of Frank V. Miller, Sonoma County History & Genealogy Library.

[111] “Deaths: George Miller,” Pacific Appeal, October 25, 1873. “Grand Ball.” The Elevator, March 28, 1874 (one of many listing for Alexander Dennsion representing Petaluma).

[112] “Call for a State Convention,” Pacific Appeal, November 15, 1873. “Pacific Coast Dispatches,” San Francisco Examiner, November 26, 1873.

[113] “Estate of Gershom P. Jessup, Deceased,”  Reports of Decisions in Probate, Volume 2, by California Superior court (San Francisco Probate dept., James Vincent Coffey, Bancroft-Whitney, 1909). Pp. 476-509.

[114] “Dancing Party,” Napa Register Weekly, November 30, 1883; “Real Estate Transfers,” Napa Register Weekly, March 5, 1885; “Local Brevities, Napa Register Weekly, April 1, 1886; Local Brevities, Napa Register Weekly, August 5, 1887.

[115] “Jessup Jr Wins,” Napa Register Weekly, March 9, 1888; “Richard Jessup’s Money,” San Francisco Chronicle, May 11, 1893;“Death Comes to Senator Mahoney,” San Francisco Examiner, December 24, 1897.

[116] “Local Briefs,” Napa Valley Register, January 17, 1890; “Personal,” Napa Valley Register, August 14, 1891; “Letters,” The Sacramento Record Union, October 11, 1897.

[117] “Death of Edward Hatton,” Napa Register Weekly, May 11, 1897; “Deaths,” San Francisco Chronicle, May 9, 1897; “Deaths,” Napa Valley Register, August 27, 1902; “Deaths,” San Francisco Chronicle, August 27, 1902; “Deaths,” San Francisco Examiner, December 28, 1928.

The Secret Life of a Petaluma Shoeshine Man

Henry Chenault’s Unknown Role in 1917 Houston Race Revolt

Henry Chenault at his shoeshine stand outside the Arcade Barbershop, 18 Western Avenue, 1955 (photo Petaluma Historical Library & Museum)

Rain was falling the night of August 23, 1917, when 150 Black soldiers marched on the city of Houston. They were protesting the inhumane treatment they had received from residents and police, including the brutal beating that day of two soldiers by white policemen. By the end of the evening, 20 people would be dead, 16 of them white, resulting in one of the largest court-martials in American history and, ultimately, the death of 19 Black soldiers by hanging.1

Henry Chenault was among an additional ten soldiers scheduled to be hung. At the last minute, President Woodrow Wilson commuted their sentences to life imprisonment, later reduced to 20 years. Chenault ended up serving 13 years of hard labor at Leavenworth Federal Prison. After his release, he made his way to Petaluma, where he opened a shoeshine stand in the early 1930s.2

Thanks to Chenault’s engaging charm, his sidewalk stand—first on Main Street and then Western Avenue across from Andresen’s Tavern—quickly became a popular local crossroads.

Henry Chenault’s empty shoeshine stand outside the Arcade Barbershop beside Pedroni’s Delicatessen, late 1940s (photo courtesy of Petlauma Historical Library & Museum)

For sports enthusiasts, the stand was a mecca to stop at and check the radio—always tuned to a ball game—for the latest score and Chenault’s play-by-play commentary. Among downtown merchants, it served the city’s “second chamber of commerce.” To newcomers it was an unofficial welcome center, stocked with brochures and Chenault’s recommendations of places to go and things to see. For local politicians, many of whom relied upon Chenault as a trusted advisor, it was a spot to keep their fingers on the pulse of the community.3

Street sign outside Henry Chenault’s shoestand, painted Lew Barber (photo Petaluma Historical Library & Museum)

With his uncanny ability to recall names, dates, and scraps of street conversation, Chenault was said to be on a first-name basis with nine out of ten people who passed by. During Petaluma’s suburban housing boom in the 1950s and 60s, as the city’s population more than tripled to 25,000, that became increasingly important. A personalized greeting from Chenault was reassurance that Petaluma remained a place where people knew your name.4

Longtime Argus-Courier columnist Bill Soberanes attributed his popularity to a personal creed that if one looked for the good in others, the bad points would vanish.5

Henry Chenault and Petaluma Argus-Courier columnist Bill Soberanes at Chenault’s shoeshine stand, 1960s (photo courtesy of Petaluma Argus-Courier)

While that may have been self-fulfilling—Chenault never spoke of his incarceration, telling people he worked on the railroads after being discharged from the army—it didn’t erase Petaluma’s bad points when it came to race, no matter how much good Chenault brought out in the town.6 For most of his years in Petaluma, he was the city’s only Black businessman, as well as its sole Black homeowner.7

That wasn’t by accident. Unlike the blatant and violent Jim Crow racism he faced as a young soldier in Houston, the discrimination he found in Petaluma was largely covert, camouflaged behind a smiling face.

That didn’t stop Henry Chenault from trying.

Born in Lexington, Kentucky, in 1895, Chenault quit school at 16 to apprentice as a teamster and stableman. Upon turning 18 in 1913, he enlisted for a three-year stint in the U.S. Army. Following his discharge, he settled in Oakland, where he met and married Willie Bernice Butler, originally of Red Bluff, adopting her five-year old son Samuel.

On May 24, 1917, almost two months after the United States entered World War I, Chenault was recalled to active duty, and assigned to the all-Black Third Battalion of the 24th Regiment. A unit of the famed Buffalo Soldiers, the 24th had charged up San Juan Ridge with Teddy Roosevelt and fought in the Philippines during the Spanish-American War.8

Soldiers of the Third Battalion, 4th Infantry Regiment at Camp Logan, Texas, August 1917 (photo courtesy of the Houston Chronicle)

In late July, the Third Battalion was dispatched to Fort Logan, three miles outside of Houston, Texas, to guard the construction off a new aviation training facility.

Racial tensions were high across the country that summer. In July, white mobs in East St. Louis, Illinois, staged a labor riot, killing dozens of Blacks who had moved there from the South to work in war factories.

East St. Louis Race Riot headline, St. Louis Globe-Democrat, Friday, July 6, 1917 (image public domain)

Houston officials and business leaders, looking to capitalize financially on the new army base, assured the military that Black soldiers would not pose any problem in their city.9

It proved to be an empty promise. A segregated state, Texas had a reputation for lynchings and racial violence. In Houston, the mere presence of Black men in uniform threatened the social hierarchy. A year before, a member of the 24th stationed in Del Rio, Texas, had been killed for no other reason than he was Black. It angered many white Texans to see Black men in uniform. They feared that if they weren’t kept in check, local Black civilians would begin demanding equal treatment for themselves.10

Soldiers of the 24th Infantry Regiment, Camp Logan, Texas, 1917 (photo public domain)

As a result, soldiers in the 24th endured an onslaught of racial slurs and discrimination from city residents, along with pistol whippings and arrest from police officers for violating such Jim Crow laws as sitting in “white only” sections on the streetcars and drinking from “white only” fountains.

Tensions came to a boil the night of August 23rd, after two white police officers assaulted a Black private for interfering in the arrest of a Black woman. When a Black M.P. patrolling the city asked the officers about the soldier’s whereabouts, he was hit with a pistol, shot at three times, and brutally beaten before being thrown in jail.

News filtered back to the 24th that police had killed the two soldiers and an armed white mob was headed for the camp. Shots rang out, sending the frightened soldiers scrambling for their rifles and shooting into surrounding buildings at suspected snipers. An examination of soldiers inflicted with bullet wounds that evening at the camp, found the bullets came from non-military rifles.

Camp Logan , Texas, 1917 (photo U.S. National Archives)

After forming a skirmish line to secure the camp, 150 soldiers began marching toward the Houston police station to hold the police accountable for their attacks on the two soldiers.

All in all, 20 people died in the soldiers’ uprising that evening, including 11 white residents, five policemen, and four Black soldiers killed by friendly fire. Afterward, 118 soldiers were court martialled for murder and mutiny. All pleaded not guilty. They included Chenault, who claimed to be sick that night, and so remained behind in camp.11

As the night was dark and rainy, identification of individual participants proved impossible. Instead, military investigators persuaded seven frightened soldiers to testify against their battalion mates in exchange for immunity. The resulting testimonies were conflicting.12 In Chenault’s case, an informant posing as a participant in the uprising, was planted in his cell to trick him into allegedly revealing his participation.13

The court martial of members of the 24th Infantry Regiment, 1917 (photo U.S. National Archives)

The men were tried in three groups. Despite inconclusive evidence, 19 black soldiers in the first group sentenced to hang, their executions expedited under the Articles of War, as the U.S was at war with Germany. Another 10 soldiers in the second group, including Chenault, were sentenced to death. After an outcry from the NAACP and high-ranking military officials, President Wilson, an avowed racist, reluctantly commuted their sentences to life in federal prison.

All told, 110 men of the 24th were convicted, 63 men of them received life sentences. Some soldiers served as many as 20 years before their release.14 Chenault was released after serving 13.15

Upon his release, Chenault reunited with his wife Willie, then working as a hotel manager in San Francisco. By 1933, they were renting a house in Petaluma, where he opened a shoeshine stand outside Damon and Oster’s, the town’s largest barbershop and beauty salon, on Main Street across from the town clock.

Damon & Oster’s Barbershop and Beauty Salon across from the town clock, in 1935 (photo Sonoma County Library )

Chenault soon became a Petaluma fixture with a signature technique of taking a deck of cards and placing individual cards in a customer’s shoe to keep the polish from rubbing off on the man’s socks.17 Behind his happy demeanor however, he struggled.

In 1937, he and his wife divorced, after which he became engaged to Cecily Clapp, a 30-year old Black woman working as a domestic for the Herold family of Herold Drug Store in town. In May 1938, Chenault purchased a house at 32 West Street. Three months later, Clapp died from an illness apparently brought on by sunstroke. Chenault accompanied her body by train to her hometown in Virginia.18

When World War II broke out, disrupting his shoeshine business, he took a job on Mare Island, where thousands of Blacks had immigrated from the South to work in the shipyards. In 1944, he married Bessie Thompson, a Kansas native who had moved to Petaluma from Eureka in 1939 with her young daughter Nancy Lou.19

After the war, Chenault opened a new shoeshine stand outside the Arcade Barbershop at 18 Western Avenue, where he would remain for the next twenty-one years.20

Henry Chenault at 18 Western Avenue stand, 1949 (photo courtesy of Santa Rosa Press Democrat)

He and his wife became actively engaged in politics, serving as officers of the Petaluma Democratic Club, and founding members of the Sonoma County NAACP. Established in Santa Rosa in 1955, the chapter elected Bessie Chenault as its first treasurer.21

While the county chapter supported the national civil rights movement—for example, picketing and boycotting the F.W. Woolworth’s Department Stores in Petaluma and Santa Rosa over the chain store’s refusal to serve Blacks at lunch counters in the South—their primary focus was securing equal treatment in jobs and housing for Sonoma County’s estimated 1,000 Black residents, most of whom lived either in rural areas or Santa Rosa’s South Park neighborhood.22

F.W. Woolworth Co. department store in Phoenix Building on Main Street in the mid-1950s (photo Sonoma County Library)

That included lobbying for the controversial California Fair Employment Practice Act, which barred businesses and labor unions from discriminating against job applicants because of race, color, or creed. After many legislative defeats, it was signed into law in 1959.23

They also pressed for the California Fair Housing Act of 1963, which made it unlawful to discriminate against home buyers and renters.

In 1960, a federal commission on civil rights found Petaluma had only one home owned by a Black family—that of Henry and Bessie Chenault at 32 West Street.24

The Chenault home, 32 West Street, purchased in 1938 (2021 photo by John Sheehy)

The Chenaults’ daughter, Mary Lou, was Petaluma High School’s only Black student when she graduated in 1950. Santa Rosa Junior College, which she went on to attend, was only marginally better in terms of student diversity.25

The commission determined Petaluma’s lack of Black residents was due to exclusionary housing practices. They pointed to a cabal of Sonoma County bankers, real estate agents, developers and neighborhood groups who blackballed and financially threatened anyone attempting to sell or rent property to Blacks.26

Such exclusionary practices were reinforced by formal housing policies. In 1927, the National Association of Real Estate Boards championed racial covenants, creating a model clause that was inserted into countless deeds: “No part of said premises shall be sold, given, conveyed or leased to any negro or negroes.” The Federal Housing Administration, created in the 1930s to insure home mortgages, also required racial covenants to guarantee loans—better known as “redlining.”27

In Petaluma, the suburban tract housing boom on the city’s east side following World War II was accompanied by restrictive covenants that preventing the sale or resale of homes to Blacks.

Covenant in deed for Madison Square Subdivision development by Goheen Construction on Petaluma’s east side in 1946 (courtesy of Connie Williams)

Although the U.S. Supreme Court ruled in 1948 that such covenants were not legally enforceable, they did not rule that they couldn’t be used.28 Stifling Black homeownership in suburbs like Petaluma pushed Black Americans, many who had migrated to California during the war to work in shipyards and factories, into zones of concentrated urban poverty in the East Bay and San Francisco.29

Henry Chenault near his shoeshine stand outside the Arcade Barbershop, late 1960s (photo Sonoma County Library)

According to the 1960 civil rights commission report, Black families showing an interest in buying in Sonoma County were often told the property had “just been sold,” even though the house remained on the market. Blacks who did manage to purchase property in Sonoma County had to contend with the possibility of racially motivated violence and vandalism.

In the 1950s, the Santa Rosa weekend home of Jack Beavers, a leader of the San Francisco NAACP chapter, was burned. Black and white neighbors alike agreed that the fire was likely a deliberate act of discrimination.30

The California Fair Housing Act, championed by the Chenaults and other members of the Sonoma County NAACP, was met with opposition after being adopted in 1963. The next year, the California Real Estate Association put forth a ballot measure to nullify the act, and explicitly allow discrimination in the housing market. It passed with 65% of the vote, but was overruled in 1967 by the U.S Supreme Court.31

Chenault was still shining shoes on Western Avenue and fighting the good fight in 1969 when he died unexpectedly at age 74.

Henry Chenault, 1895-1969 (photo courtesy of Petaluma Historical Library & Museum)

In 2023, the Army formally overturned the convictions of Chennault and the other 109 soldiers charged with crimes association with the 1917 riot, acknowledging that the military trials had been unjust, tainted by racial discrimination.32

*****

A version of this story appeared in the Petaluma Argus-Courier, the Santa Rosa Press Democrat, and in the 2022 Buffalo Soldiers Exhibit at the California African American Museum in Los Angeles.

*****

Sidebar: In 2020, a motion picture based upon the 1917 Houston Race Revolt was released. It is currently streaming on Apple TV and Starz.

Footnotes:

[1] C. Calvin Smith, “The Houston Riot of 1917, Revisited,” The Houston Review, Spring 1991, vol. 13, no. 2, pp. 85-102.

[2] “Houston Mutiny and Riot Records: Henry Chenault,” South Texas College of Law Digital Collection, https://cdm16035.contentdm.oclc.org/digital/collection/p15568coll1/id/1707

[3] Petaluma Argus-Courier: Bill Soberanes, “So They Tell Me” column, June 19, 1952; Bob Wells, “Everybody Here Knows Henry L. Chenault,” June 24, 1954; “A Paragraph for Mr. Chenault,” October 29, 1954; Bill Soberanes, “Henry Chenault Was a Petaluma Institution,” January 20, 1993.

[4]“Shoe Shine Operator is C. of C.,” Santa Rosa Press Democrat, November 8, 1949.

[5] Bill Soberanes, “Henry Was a Friend to All,” Petaluma Argus-Courier, January 15, 1969.

[6] “Henry Chenault is Dead,” Petaluma Argus-Courier, January 14, 1969.

[7] Soberanes, January 20, 1993; “United States Commission on Civil Rights, Hearings before the United States Commission on Civil Rights. Hearings held in Los Angeles, California, January 25, 1960; San Francisco California, January 27, 1960, January 28, 1960,” (Washington, D.C.: Government Printing Office, 1960), p. 588.

[8] “Houston Mutiny and Riot Records: Henry Chenault”; “Who Are the Buffalo Soldiers,” https://www.buffalosoldiermuseum.com/

[9] Allison Keyes, “The East St. Louis Race Riot Left Dozens Dead, Devastating a Community on the Rise,” Smithsonian Magazine, June 30, 2017. https://www.smithsonianmag.com/smithsonian-institution/east-st-louis-race-riot-left-dozens-dead-devastating-community-on-the-rise-180963885/; Smith, pp. 86-89.

[10] Smith, pp. 86-89.

[11] “Houston Mutiny and Riot Records: Henry Chenault”; Christian, Garna L. (2009). “The Houston Mutiny of 1917,” Trotter Review: Volume 18, Issue 1, Article 14. https://scholarworks.umb.edu/trotter_review/vol18/iss1/14

[12] Outline of events from Smith, pp. 85-102.

[13] Robert V. Haynes, A Night of Violence: The Houston Riot of 1917 (Baton Rouge: Louisiana State University Press, 1976), digital edition, p. 286; “Houston Mutiny and Riot Records: Henry Chenault.”

[14] Smith, p. 97; Haynes, p. 301; “Houston Mutiny and Riot Records: Henry Chenault”; “5 Surprising Facts About Woodrow Wilson and Racism,” Christian Science Monitor, December 14, 2015,.

[15] “Houston Mutiny and Riot Records: Henry Chenault”; The 1917 Houston Riots/Camp Logan Mutiny. Prairie View A&M University. 

[16] Burroughs Miller is Bride of Julio Coehlo,” Petaluma Argus Courier, August 7, 1933;

[17] Bill Soberanes, So They Tell Me Column, Petaluma Argus-Courier, August 3, 1966.

[18] “Final Divorce Decrees Granted,” San Francisco Examiner, November 10, 1937; “H. Chenault’s Fiancee is Called,” Petaluma Argus-Courier, August 17, 1938; “Henry Chenault Home from East,” Petaluma Argus-Courier, September 9, 1938; Sonoma County Deeds, Sonoma County Clerk: May 19, 1938: Grantee- Henry Chenault; Grantor – Central Bank, etc., Deed, Book 455, page 138; 1940 U.S. Census, Petaluma, lists Henry Chenault, single, white, living at 32 West Street.

[19] “Henry Chenault is Dead,” Petaluma Argus-Courier, January 14, 1969.

[20] Bob Wells, June 24, 1954.

[21] Bill Soberanes, So They Tell Me Column, Petaluma Argus-Courier, September 24, 1960; June 27, 1966; December 19, 1966; “Santa Rosa Unit of NAACP to Receive Charter,” Santa Rosa Press Democrat, June 2, 1955.

[22] “Picketing by NAACP Continues in County,” Santa Rosa Press Democrat, March 20, 1960; “Negro ‘Test’ Stores Open—Part of the Way,” Petaluma Argus-Courier, February 9, 1960.

[23] Bill Soberanes, So They Tell Me Column, Petaluma Argus-Courier, May 20, 1955; Michael C. Tobriner, “California FEPC,” Hastings Law Journal, 1965, Vol. 16, issue 3.

[24] Hearings before the United States Commission on Civil Rights, p. 588. https://www.google.com/books/edition/Hearings_Before_the_United_States_Commis/fUXVAAAAMAAJ?hl=en&gbpv=1

[25] “Petaluma High School Will Hold Graduation Exercises on Durst Field Friday Night,” Petaluma Argus-Courier, June 8, 1950; “Ex-Petaluman Honors King: As a Girl, She Was the Only Black Student,” Petaluma Argus-Courier, January 19, 1993.

[26] Hearings before the United States Commission on Civil Rights, p. 590. https://www.google.com/books/edition/Hearings_Before_the_United_States_Commis/fUXVAAAAMAAJ?hl=en&gbpv=1

[27] “Is There Racism in the Deed to Your Home?” New York Times, August 17, 2021.

[28] Moore, Montojo, Mauri, “Roots, Race, and Place,” Haas Institute for a Fair and Inclusive Society, University of California, Berkeley, October 2019, pgs. 7, 13; Richard Rothstein, The Color of Law (New York: Liveright Publishing Corporation,2017), 6.

[29] Rothstein, p. 6.

[30] Hearings before the United States Commission on Civil Rights, p. 590.

[31] Moore, Motojo, Mauri, p. 54.

[32] Jaime Salazar, Mutiny of Rage: The 1917 Camp Logan Riots and Buffalo Soldiers in Houston (Prometheus eBooks, 2021), p. 51; “Army Overturns Convictions of 110 Black Soldiers Charged in 1917 Riot,” New York Times, November 14, 2023.

The Judge Who Fought the Law . . . and Won

The Colorful Trial of Judge Rollie Webb

Judge Rollie Webb in 1954, striking a Japanese temple bell in his chambers (photo Sonoma County Library)

Early in the evening of May 6, 1953, Judge Rollie Webb entered The Bend cocktail lounge, for what he claimed was business with Max Oncina, the proprietor. Oncina served Webb “more than one but less than four” highballs, before turning the bar over to Albert Curry at 6 p.m., for the evening shift.

Curry and Webb had history—some months earlier, Curry refused Webb service because he was intoxicated.

While Curry poured Webb two more highballs of vodka and 7-Up, Webb struck up a conversation with a young private from Two Rock Ranch Army base named Gerald Jones. After learning Jones shared a common Welsh ancestry, Webb insisted they sing a “Welsh” song together. Standing up, he launched into a rendition of “When Irish Eyes Are Smiling.”

The Bend in the Gross Building on Main Street, 1952 (photo Sonoma County Library)

When Curry asked him to keep it down, Webb turned to Jones and suggested they “clean up the bar” in proper Welsh fashion. Instead, Jones bolted for the door.

Webb continued stumbling about the bar, singing Irish ballads. He responded to Curry’s repeated requests to sit down with profanity, demanding that he “buy him a drink.” Finally, Curry called the police to complain that the judge was drunk and raising Cain. After the call, Webb left The Bend and crossed the street to the 101 Club.

When patrolman George Wagner entered the 101, Webb ordered him to remove his hat in his presence. “I am the law in Petaluma,” he told Wagner, “and I can do what I want.”

The 101 Club on Main Street to the right of Western Auto, across from the town clock, 1956 (photo Sonoma County Library)

Placing Webb under arrest, Wagner helped Webb into his patrol car and drove him to the police station two blocks away in City Hall on Fourth Street. At the station he was booked for being drunk in a public place, and released on his own recognizance. His physician drove down to give him a ride home to his house on Galland Street.

The county district attorney refused to prosecute the case, as did Petaluma’s city attorney, Karl Brooks, who cited an ordinance that a person could not be arrested for being drunk inside a bar.

That surprised Police Chief Melvin “Noonie” Del Maestro, who took Brooks’ interpretation of the ordinance to mean his department had arrested hundreds of people without authority since that particular ordinance went into effect in 1942.

Left-to-right: Officer George Wagner, who arrested Webb, Police Chief Noonie Del Maestro, and Officer Dale Moore, 1952 (photo Sonoma County Library)

Once news of the dropped charges went viral in newspapers across the country—“Petaluma Judge Freed in Drunk Case,” casting a pall of corruption over the town, Brooks reversed himself, instructing Del Maestro to charge Webb with being intoxicated on a city street while crossing from The Bend to the 101 Club.

Announcing his plea of not guilty, and demanding a jury trial, Webb had just one thing to say about the circus-like atmosphere of the case: “I’d like to have the TV rights to this.”2

Born in Oakland in 1911, Rolland Clyde Webb was two months old when his parents moved to Petaluma. After graduating from Petaluma High School in 1928, he married Le Tier Beck and took a job as a mortician in town with the John C. Mount Funeral Parlor, while also serving as a deputy county coroner.

In 1935, Webb was stricken with tuberculosis, spending most of the next two years undergoing surgeries at Stanford Hospital and recuperating at a sanitarium in St. Helena. Upon his recovery, he returned to Petaluma with new-found determination, throwing his hat in the ring as a candidate for justice of the peace, a position that didn’t require a law degree.

Only 28 years old, he cited his work as a mortician as good experience in working with the public. Surprisingly, he won.3

Rollie Webb and Melvin “Dutch”Flor at Petaluma High School, 1928; Dutch Flor served as Santa Rosa’s chief of police, 1940-1974 (photo courtesy of Torliatt Family Collection)

“Rollie,” as he was widely known, quickly became a colorful fixture among Petaluma’s 8,000 residents. Diminutive in stature, he was a popular track star and debater in high school, and retained a competitive and argumentative spirit, both on and off the bench. Active in various fraternal orders and non-profit organizations, he took joy in writing poetry and singing light opera and Irish ballads.

After being reelected to two more terms as justice of the peace, he set his sights on higher office, making an unsuccessful run in 1948 for Congress, and a second unsuccessful run in 1950 for county supervisor.4

Judge Rollie Webb, meting out a 3,000-word essay on driving safety in lieu of a traffic fine, 1949 (photo courtesy of the Santa Rosa Press Democrat)

Shortly thereafter, a change in state law required that Petaluma’s two lower courts—the justice of the peace and the city police court, which handled police arrests—be merged into one so-called justice court.

The new court remained limited to minor duties—criminal misdemeanors, small dollar civil cases, administering oaths, and performing marriage ceremonies—but with a higher jurisdiction in terms of the fines and jail time it was able to impose. As had been the case for justices of the peace like Webb, there were no special qualifications for being a judge.5

In November 1952, Webb won election to the new justice court, beating out Petaluma’s former city police court judge. His election marked the beginning of a long-running feud with Del Maestro.

Like Webb, Del Maestro grew up in Petaluma. After graduating from Petaluma High in 1924, he married his high school sweetheart, went away to barber school, and then opened up his own barbershop in town.

The onset of the Depression hurt his business, leading him to join the police force in 1933. He was recruited largely because of his skills as a former Golden Gloves boxing champion. With Prohibition ending, a new era of barroom brawls was born. Known for being able to hold his own in a fight, Del Maestro’s talents came in handy during the 1940s as well, when soldiers stationed at nearby Two Rock Ranch and Hamilton Field made Petaluma their favorite drinking spot.

Del Maestro was also known for operating by a code of street justice. One telling example occurred in the mid-1940s when he went to question a transient in the railroad yard. After the man took off running, Del Maestro, an excellent marksman who trained at the FBI Academy, drew his revolver and felled him with a flesh wound to his right leg. Fastening a bandana around the bleeding wound, he took the man home to his wife Gladys for treatment.6

Police Chief Noonie Del Maestro training in 1950 at the FBI National Academy in Virginia, where he placed first in marksmanship (photo courtesy of the Santa Rosa Press Democrat)

After 17 years on the force, Del Maestro was appointed chief of police in 1950, overseeing an eight-man department.7

While Webb shared Del Maestro’s disposition for not operating strictly by the book—he liked to point out that if the book worked in every case, there wouldn’t be a need for judges—he tended to lean in the opposite direction of De Maestro, tempering justice with mercy, so much mercy in some cases that officers of the law often left his court in despair.

In one of his classic cases involving a young man convicted of assault, Webb asked Del Maestro if he would agree to delaying the start of the man’s jail sentence, so as to allow him to continue operating his family business in Tomales. Del Maestro said no. “Every consideration is for the defendant when we get to court,” he added. “No thought is given to the poor people he abused. He should know that if he breaks the law, he will have to go to jail.”

As a compromise, Webb sentenced the man to 10 two-day weekends in jail.

It was no secret Webb was a drinker. He often found before him on the bench suspects he had shared drinks with the night before at a bar in town. “You only had three beers?” the common joke about Webb went. “I bought you four myself!”

Webb’s new role as judge of the justice court presiding over police arrests, went into effect in January 1953. Five months later Webb was arrested at the 101 Club.

City Hall and police headquarters at Fourth and A streets, early 1950s (photo Sonoma County Library)

His jury trial was held in the city council chambers at City Hall. The case drew an estimated 100 spectators, many of whom stood in the hall throughout the trial. The proceedings were retried in the evenings at every bar in town.

For legal counsel, Webb hired LeRoy Lounibos, Sr., one of Petaluma’s most prominent attorneys. Unleashing an aggressive, theatrical defense, Lounibos raised the tension in the courtroom, overwhelming City Attorney Brooks, a relatively inexperienced prosecutor.

Lounibos zeroed in on the weakness in the city’s case, which was finding a witness who had actually seen Webb cross Main Street in an inebriated state. He called to the stand the 101 Club’s owner and bartender, Joe Monteno, who testified that he watched Webb walk into his bar angry but completely sober.

Willie Brown, a legless man who operated a shoeshine stand adjacent to the 101 Club, testified Webb walked across the street from The Bend “very correctly.” Webb’s physician said he examined him that night after driving him home, and found him to be “perfectly sober.”

Defense attorney LeRoy Lounibos, Sr. and Judge Rollie Webb, on recess during first day of trial (photo courtesy of Petaluma Argus-Courier)

In his caustic cross-examination of the prosecution’s witness Private Jones, who testified watching a drunk Webb causing trouble in The Bend, Lounibos got him to admit that he was only 19 and drinking in the bar. Lounibos asked the judge to strike Jones’ testimony and have him taken into custody for violating the state liquor control law.

Private Jones passed out in the hallway after leaving the courtroom, and had to be taken to the hospital in an ambulance.

Testifying on his own behalf, Webb attributed his boisterous actions that evening to a “big slug” of the medicine he took just before going into The Bend. His doctor explained that he had prescribed dexadrine for him to use as a stimulant when he was feeling emotionally upset, mentally fatigued, or physically exhausted, all three of which Webb said he was experiencing that evening.8

The trial lasted two days. The jury of 11 men and one woman took only eight minutes to reach a verdict of not guilty. Acquitted, Webb left the courtroom announcing he had “malice toward none.”9 Four days later, he filed a claim against the city and several individuals for $100,000 in damages for false arrest, and inflicting “severe and unusual mental anguish, pain, and humiliation.”

Among those named in the claim were Del Maestro and Wagner. “It looks like I’m Petaluma’s political pawn,” Webb told the press. “And a small group of people are our to get me.”10

Two weeks later, Brooks found the claim to be without merit. The city council agreed. Webb had a year in which to respond with a lawsuit against the city.11 He did not. The claim had achieved its purpose of smearing Del Maestro and the police department.

In late January 1954, Webb failed to show up in court one morning. It turned out the county sheriff had issued a temporary holding charge of inebriation against him, placing him in the Sonoma County Hospital to sober up.12 In the court of Petaluma it didn’t matter. Webb was reelected to two more six-year terms as justice of the judicial court.

Police Chief De; Maestro examining seized evidence, mid-1960s (photo Sonoma County Library)

The feud between Webb and Del Maestro continued unabated until the late 1960s, as both law enforcement and the courts nationwide found themselves under increasing scrutiny due in large part to Civil Rights and anti-Vietnam protests.

“The negative, resentful attitude many people have toward the police,” officer George Wagner later observed, “is due to an unfortunate attitude that has become too prevalent in out society.”

He noted that when he walked the beat alone in the early 1950s, he could always count on assistance from citizens if he needed it. “Now it’s a whole new ball game. The majority of people seldom cooperate when a crime is committed. As the city grew larger and more people moved here, there seemed to be less compassion.”13

His boss, Del Maestro, retired from the force in 1968, replaced by a Petaluma Police Sergeant Larry Higgins, a native of Idaho.

That same year, a new state law converted Petaluma’s justice court to a municipal court, one that now required a sitting judge with a law degree. Alexander J. McMahon, a judge in Sonoma and a native of San Francisco, was appointed the new district judge for south Sonoma County. Forced to resign from the bench, Webb was appointed a municipal clerk in McMahon’s new court.14

So ended Petaluma’s era of homegrown justice.

Clerk Rollie Webb, seated at right, and Judge Alexander McMahon seat behind the bench in the new Southern Sonoma County Municipal Court on its first day in session, January 22, 1968 (photo courtesy of the Santa Rosa Press Democrat)

*****

Footnotes

  1. “Webb is Arrested on Drunk Charge,” Petaluma Argus-Courier, May 7, 1953; “Judge Webb’s Case May Go To Jury Today,” Santa Rosa Press Democrat, July 9, 1953; “Verdict on Webb is ‘Not Guilty,’” Santa Rosa Press Democrat, July 10, 1953; “Doctor Says Webb Was Sober May 6th,” Petaluma Argus-Courier, July 9, 1953.
  2. “Petaluma’s Only Judge Charged as Drunk, City Without Court,” Napa Register, May 7, 1953; “Petaluma Judge Freed in Drunk Case,” Sacramento Bee, May 14, 1953; “City Attorney Opinion Holds Up Webb Case,” Santa Rosa Press Democrat, May 14, 1953.
  3. “Rolly Webb in Justice Race,” Petaluma Argus-Courier, May 3, 1938; “Rolland Webb’s Election Seems Sure,” Petaluma Argus-Courier, September 1, 1938.
  4. “Death Takes Rolland Webb,” Petaluma Argus-Courier, April 10, 1972.
  5. Oral History Interview with Judge Monty Hellam, 1970, Mayo Hayes O’Donnell Library, Monterey, California. https://www.mayohayeslibrary.org/transcription-of-an-oral-history-of-the-monterey-police-court.html
  6. “No One’s Afraid of Cops Anymore,” Santa Rosa Press Democrat, September 26, 1993.
  7. “Del Maestro, ex-Police Chief, Dies,” Santa Rosa Press Democrat, September 21, 1993; “George Wagner,” Petaluma Argus Courier, April 23, 1977.
  8. “Doctor Says Webb Was Sober May 6th,” Petaluma Argus-Courier, July 9, 1953.
  9. “No Malice, Webb Admits,” Petaluma Argus-Courier, July 10, 1953; “Verdict on Webb is ‘Not Guilty,’” Santa Rosa Press Democrat, July 10, 1953.
  10. “Long Range City, Court Fight Seen,” Petaluma Argus-Courier, July 15, 1953.
  11. “Webb’s Big Claim is Denied by the City,” Petaluma Argus-Courier, August 4, 1953.
  12. “Judge Webb Held for Inebriacy,” Petaluma Argus-Courier, January 25, 1954; “Judge Webb Out of Hospital,” Petaluma Argus-Courier, January 27, 1954.
  13. Chris Samson, “George Wagner,” Petaluma Argus-Courier, March 23, 1977.
  14. “Del Maestro, ex-Police Chief, Dies,” Santa Rosa Press Democrat, September 21, 1993; “Rolland Webb Dies at Age 63,” Santa Rosa Press Democrat, April 10, 1972; “Petaluma Police Chief Resigning,” Petaluma Argus-Courier, November 7, 1967; “Gov. Reagan Signs Bill on New Municipal Court,” Petaluma Argus-Courier, August 26, 1967; Judge McMahon, 53, Dies in His Sleep Wednesday,” Petaluma Argus Courier, September 23, 1976.

A Bend in the Road: the Legacy of Columbus Tustin

1870 map of Petaluma (image in the public domain)

Petaluma’s first death was by potatoes. In the fall of 1851, a farmer named Shirley was thrown from the wagon load of potatoes he was driving to the potato warehouse near today’s Washington Street Bridge, and crushed beneath its wheels.1

At the time, Petaluma was just coming into existence. The year before, meat hunter Tom Lockwood set up camp at an abandoned Miwok trading village called Lekituit (today’s Cedar Grove) for shipping game to gold rush San Francisco. By the time of Shirley’s death, the encampment had expanded to include a couple of trading posts, a handful of rustic cabins, the potato warehouse, and a combination general store, dining hall, and hostel operated by a disappointed miner from Missouri named George H. Keller.2

Shirley’s death occurred just north of the camp, at what is today the intersection of Petaluma Boulevard North and Skillman Lane. Keller and Lockwood, along with a young man named Columbus Tustin, dug a grave on the hillside of what would become Penry Park, where Keller read the service while the other men laid Shirley to rest in a rough coffin they fashioned out of redwood.3

A few months later, in January 1852, Keller set out to turn the camp into a real town. Staking an illegal squatter’s claim to 158 acres of the Rancho Arroyo de San Antonio, a 13,000-acre, privately-owned Mexican land grant, he hired John A. Brewster to survey and plat a town of 40 acres, extending west from the creek to Liberty Street, north to Oak Street, and south to A Street. Keller called it Petaluma.4

After selling off the lots to a growing influx of new settlers, most of them failed gold miners like himself, Keller returned with the proceeds to his farm in Missouri (where, two years later, he became one of the founders of Leavenworth, the first town in Kansas Territory).5

1855 map of Petaluma (Sonoma County Library)

Back in Petaluma, the potato boom went bust and much of the wild game was bagged within a year of Keller’s departure. But thanks to the continued growth of hungry San Francisco and to the steady stream of farmers settling in the area, Petaluma quickly became Sonoma County’s primary shipping port for an ever-expanding variety of agricultural goods.6

Soon after Keller’s departure, 26-year old Columbus Tustin decided to embark upon one of the first extensions of the downtown development, surveying and platting a subdivision he called Tustin’s Addition, that extended from First to Eighth streets, and A to F streets. He followed Keller’s example of positioning his street grid parallel to the Petaluma Creek (renamed the Petaluma River in 1959).7

However, Tustin aligned his grid with a different stretch of the creek, one just south of today’s Turning Basin, placing it at roughly a 45-degree angle to Keller’s grid. Then, instead of extending the street names designated by Keller, he adopted his own sequence of numbers and letters for street names, creating a disjunction where the streets of the two developments met.

1877 Map featuring Tustin’s Addition, extending from A to F streets, and First to Eighth streets (Thos. H. Thompson, Map of Sonoma County, 1877; Sonoma County Library)

Keller’s Kentucky Street (which he named for his native state, a common street naming strategy at the time) turned into Tustin’s Fourth Street; Keller Street (which Keller named for himself) into Fifth; Liberty Street into Sixth; and Main Street into Third (the two streets were combined in 1958 under the name Petaluma Boulevard, with a north and south designation).8

Just as Keller had centered his development around Main Street Plaza (today’s Penry Park)—marking the spot where Shirley was buried—Tustin did the same with the creation of D Street Plaza (renamed Walnut Park in 1896).9

Postcard of Walnut Park, circa early 1900s (postcard photo in public domain)

Tustin also deeded the northeast corner of Fifth and B streets to the town for its first public educational institution, the Bowers School, which was replaced in 1860 by the Brick School, and in 1911 by Lincoln School (converted later to an office building).10

Petaluma’s Brick School at the northeast corner of B and Fourth Streets (Sonoma County Library)

Unlike Keller, Tustin chose to stay in Petaluma, partly because he had come to town with his extended family. He built a home in the heart of Tustin’s Addition, at the southwest corner of Fourth and C streets (no longer standing).11

Born in Philadelphia and raised in Illinois, Tustin came west across the plains in 1847 with his parents and eight siblings. The family went first to Oregon, and then to the gold rush town of Sacramento, before settling in 1851 in the Two Rock Valley. By that time, the hardships of the frontier had taken the lives of Tustin’s mother and two of his siblings.12 Following the creation of Tustin’s Addition, the Tustin family members moved into town.

In 1855, Tustin’s father Samuel opened a lumber supply business in a fireproof stone warehouse, later known as “Steamboat Warehouse,” at the southeast corner B and Second streets, adjacent to the creek.13 Across the street from warehouse, Tustin’s sister Barbara Ann and her husband Joshua Lewis owned and operated the railroad depot for Charles Minturn’s Petaluma & Haystack Landing Railroad.

Despite being the third rail line in the state at the time, the tracks extended only two-and-a-half miles south of town to the deeper waters of Haystack Landing, where Minturn’s larger passenger steamboat could dock (Joshua Lewis was killed in an infamous explosion of Minturn’s steam locomotive at the depot in 1866, along with three other people, after which Minturn used draft horses to drawn the railcars along the track).14

Two of Tustin’s brothers, John and William, became successful inventors of farm machinery, including a self-regulating windmill, a grain reaper, and a gang plow that turned multiple furrows at a time. Their inventions proved popular during the California wheat boom that began in the mid-1850s, spurred by wheat demand first in Australia and New Zealand, and Europe during the Civil War. The boom continued into the 1870s, serving as the main driver of Petaluma’s river town prosperity, thanks to local industrious grain merchants like John A. McNear and his brother George Washington McNear, who was anointed in the 1880s as California’s “Wheat King.” 15

Columbus Tustin, 1870s (photo courtesy of the Tustin Area Historical Society)

Columbus however proved the most successful of the enterprising Tustin clan. In addition to Tustin’s Addition, in the 1850s he developed one of Petaluma’s first large-scale nurseries, initially comprising 80 acres west of town at today’s Western Avenue and Chapman Lane. Comprising 75,000 grafted fruit trees, Tustin’s Orchard won the prize for best nursery at the 1860 Sonoma County Agricultural and Mechanical Fair.16

By that time, the restless Tustin was already looking for new opportunities. Sales in Tustin’s Addition were slow. Property buyers appeared to prefer the north side of town, its hills less prone to winter flooding. Then there was the uncertainty of clear property titles given the legal battle over ownership of the Rancho Arroyo de San Antonio. It hung over Petaluma like a dark cloud.

In 1851, Congress passed the California Land Act, subjecting all Mexican land grant claims to the review of a Land Commission. By then, nearly half of California’s 813 land grants, comprising the best farming and ranching land in the state, had fallen into the hands of either American speculators or else American settlers who married into Mexican families.17

1860 U.S. survey map of Mexican Land Grants within 40 miles of San Francisco (map by Lander Ransom, Bancroft Library)

Ownership of the Rancho Arroyo de San Antonio was, like a number of the grants, cloudy. Originally awarded in 1838 to Antonio Ortega, General Mariano Vallejo’s major-domo in secularizing the Sonoma mission, the rancho had competing claim that read like a potboiler novel.

The same year he received the grant, Ortega entered into what appears to have been an arranged marriage with a woman 40 years his junior, Francisca Miranda, the 18-year old daughter of Juan Miranda, who had preceded Ortega as major-domo of the Sonoma mission before it was secularized in 1834.

By Mexican law, grantees were required to make the rancho their primary, actively improved the land with livestock grazing or crop cultivation, and not move out of Alta California. Ortega broke all three conditions.18

Leaving the occupation and running of the ranch to his father-in-law, Ortega, a notorious sexual predator, remained for the most part in Sonoma, where he operated a liquor store of the square. In 1843, soon after discovering his young pregnant wife had been having an affair, Ortega departed for Oregon on a cattle drive to make some money. He was gone for four years.

During that time, his father-in-law made his own claim to the land grant, asserting that Ortega had abandoned the property. Miranda died however before his claim was signed by the Mexican governor.19

Excerpt of 1860 U.S. Survey land grant map with Rancho Arroyo de San Antonio listed as “Miranda Rancho” (map by Lander Ransom, Bancroft Library)

When Ortega returned from Oregon in 1847, he turned over his claim to a Jesuit priest in exchange for educating his children at a school the priest was looking to build. The priest subsequently sold the claim to an American speculator, who died soon after filing his claim with the Land Commission. In 1853, the man’s wife sold the claim to James Stuart of San Francisco.20

Stuart soon discovered the competing claim, which had been filed by Thomas B. Valentine, a 22-year old speculator who purchased Miranda’s unsigned claim from his family in 1850, what many believe was a private rather than a public auction, as it was never advertised. That belief was supported by the fact that Valentine sold off portions of the rancho to his attorney, the court administrator, and the probate judge who approved the sale.21

Valentine ad in the July 23, 1852 edition of the Daily Alta California

After comparing notes, Stuart and Valentine became concerned that the weaknesses of their respective claims might cancel each other out before the Land Commission. They decided to cut a deal. Valentine agreed to withdraw his claim in exchange for a percentage of the subdivision sales Stuart made from the land grant.22

In 1855, the Land Commission approved Stuart’s claim to the rancho.23 He immediately opened a real estate office in Petaluma and began placing notices in the local newspaper, alerting residents of their need to purchase a bonafide deed from Stuart, regardless of whatever bogus deeds they held from Keller, Tustin, or any of the other squatter developers in town.24

Illustration of James Stuart (San Francisco Call, November 18, 1893)

Stuart’s claim applied only to the west side of town. The land east of the creek was part of the 66,000-acre Rancho Petaluma land grant awarded to Mariano Vallejo. In 1853, Vallejo sold 327 acres of what became early East Petaluma to a settler named Tom Hopper, who would go on to become a prominent banker and one the largest landowners in the county.25

More than 200 Petaluma residents paid Stuart an average of $350 ($10,000 in today’s currency) for their lots, resulting in a total take of $70,000 ($2 million in today’s currency).26 Tustin, it appears, partnered in purchasing unsold lots in Tustin’s Addition with Isaac Wickersham, a Pennsylvania lawyer who settled in Petaluma in 1853. Wickersham would go on to become a major land developer and banker, establishing Petaluma’s first bank in 1865.27

Illustration of Thomas B. Valentine (San Francisco Examiner, October 28, 1898)

Although Stuart split his Petaluma earnings down the middle with Valentine, the division of spoils wasn’t to Valentine’s liking. When Stuart’s claim went before the U.S District Court on appeal—a standard procedure for most Land Commission decisions—Valentine refiled his original claim, including depositions that spotlighted the weaknesses of Stuart’s claim, including that the Mexican governor’s signature on Ortega’s grant was postdated when the claim was submitted to the Land Commission.

Drawing of Petaluma’s Main Street looking south from Washington Street, 1882 (Sonoma County Library)

In 1857, the District Court upheld Stuart’s claim, after which Valentine filed an appeal to the U.S. Supreme Court.28 Meanwhile, the town of Petaluma, having grown to a population of 1,300, decided in 1858 to officially incorporate as a city, accepting Stuart’s assurances that his ownership of the rancho would withstand Valentine’s appeals.29

Tustin’s father, an active participant in early civic affairs, was elected to Petaluma’s founding Board of Trustees (city council).30

In 1861, Tustin set off to seek his fortunes in the newly discovered Comstock silver mines of Nevada. Accompanying him were three partners of a wagon-making business in Petaluma—William Zartman, John Fritsch, and Nelson Stafford. The men settled among 4,000 prospectors in the boomtown of Washoe City, just south of Reno, where they invested in mining operations and also constructed a mill for extracting silver ore from quartz they called the Petaluma Quartz Mill.31

Mining boomtown of Washoe City, Nevada, circa 1860s (photo in public domain)

After corporate bankers began assuming control of the Comstock mines and shifting milling operations to company-owned plants, the men sold their interests in 1864 and returned to Petaluma.32

While they were away, Valentine’s persistent court appeals resulted in an 1864 Supreme Court ruling that invalidated both his and Stuart’s claims to the Rancho Arroyo de San Antonio, releasing the land into the public domain.33 Under the Preemption Act of 1841, that meant Petaluma residents were granted first right of refusal in purchasing their property from the government at a nominal fee of $1.25 per acre ($21 in today’s currency).34

The large number of claims however presented an bureaucratic bottleneck. Prompted by Petaluma’s predicament, Congress in 1865 passed the General Townsite Bill, which provided for the government to survey and plat a city (for a fee), after which land patents could be easily obtained by citizens for their property.35

A committee of five men, including Tustin, appointed by Petaluma’s Board of Trustees, raised $3,000 ($50,000 in today’s currency) for a government survey of the city.36 Within a year of the survey’s completion, roughly 2,500 people had purchased pre-emptive claims on the 13,000-acre Rancho Arroyo de San Antonio.37

1871 bird’s eye view map of Petaluma (Sonoma County Library)

In 1867, Congress strengthened Petaluma’s position by passing a bill ceding to the city all government-owned land within city limits.38 Valentine however persisted in lobbying Congress for a court review of his claim. Finally, in 1872, he succeeded. Two years later, after favorable review in the Ninth District Court, the case went to the U.S. Supreme Court, who surprisingly approved Valentines’s claim of the rancho.

In lieu of the actual Rancho Arroyo de San Antonio however, Congress stipulated as a condition of the review, that should he be successful, Valentine would be compensated with land scrip that he could be applied toward the purchase of property in the public domain anywhere else in the country. With that, the cloud that had hung over Petaluma since its founding by Keller in 1852, was lifted for good.39

Tustin, meanwhile, had moved on from Petaluma. In 1868, he and his former mining partner, Nelson Stafford, purchased 1,360 acres of the 63,000-acre Rancho Santiago de Santa Ana in Orange County, splitting the property between them.40 Tustin surveyed and platted 100 acres of his half into a new town he called Tustin City.

Tustin City, California, circa 1890s (photo in public domain)

As he had done in Petaluma, Tustin laid out the street grid using numbers and letters as street names. True to his arborist roots, he planted trees throughout the city, leading to its distinction as Southern California’s “City of Trees.”41

Before leaving Petaluma, Tustin sold his residence at Fourth and C streets, along with the rest of the block it sat on, to grain merchant John A. McNear, who constructed an elaborate estate on the site in 1867.42

John A. McNear residence, Fourth and D streets (Petaluma Historical Library & Museum)

Tustin Orchards was split between W.W. Chapman and Ezra Cleveland, who named their respective roads to the property Chapman Lane and Cleveland Lane.

The Tustin Stone Warehouse at B and 2nd streets, which Tustin inherited after his father died in 1863, was purchased by Charles Minturn, owner of the Petaluma & Haystack Landing Railroad, along with the adjacent railroad depot. Following Minturn’s death in 1873, W.D. Bliss purchased the property, renaming it the Bliss Warehouse (site today of Ayawaska Restobar, 101 2nd Street, across from the Great Petaluma Mill).43

Tustin City found soon itself in the middle of the emerging orange belt of Southern California. Tustin’s grand vision for the city however was undermined when Southern Pacific Railroad rejected the city as the site of its southern terminus, choosing nearby Santa Ana instead.

The city of Tustin beside Santa Ana in 1900 Orange County map (public domain)

Consequently, Santa Ana grew into a large city, while Tustin (the “City” was dropped from the name in 1892) remained a relatively small agricultural town. Tustin died in 1883 at the age of 57, reportedly a disappointed man.

Much like in Petaluma, Tustin found itself transformed following World War II into a suburban bedroom community, growing to a current population of 80,000.44

In 1876, the coffin of the potato farmer named Shirley, who Tustin and Keller buried in 1851, was discovered during preparations in Main Street Plaza (Penry Park) for the city’s celebration of America’s centennial. They were respectfully moved to the John McNear’s new cemetery at Cypress Hill.45

Main Street Plaza, 1895, later renamed Hill Plaza Park, and then Penry Park (Sonoma County Library)

*****

Footnotes:

1“Centennial Resurrection,” Petaluma Weekly Argus, March 31, 1876.
2J.P. Munro-Fraser, History of Sonoma County (San Francisco: Alley, Bowen & Co., 1880), pp. 258-259; John Sheehy, “History Mystery Solved,” Petaluma Argus Courier, February 11, 2021.
3“Centennial Resurrection,” Petaluma Weekly Argus, March 31, 1876; Letter regarding Theodore Skillman’s Magnolia Hotel, Petaluma Courier, May 7, 1879.
4Munro-Fraser, pp. 259-260.
5Robert Allan Thompson, Historical and Descriptive Sketch of Sonoma County, California (Philadelphia: L.H. Everts & Co., 1877), p. 55; Adair Heig, History of Petaluma: A California River Town (Petaluma, CA: Scottwall Associates, 1982), pgs. 21, 29; Henry Miles Moore, “Sketches of the Early Settlement of the City and County of Leavenworth,” Western Life (Leavenworth, KS), August 3, 1900.
5Heig, pgs. 69-70; Munro-Fraser, p. 263; “Early Hunters,” Petaluma Argus-Courier, August 17, 1855; David Wharff letter to A.P. Behrens, dated April 26, 1918, page 18, from personal collection of Lee Torliatt.
7Sonoma 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.
8“Goodbye Main Street; It’s Petaluma Boulevard Now,” Petaluma Argus-Courier, August 26, 1958.
9The plaza appears in maps of Petaluma from 1865 and 1871. It was apparently under private ownership until 1873, when I.G. Wickersham sold it to the city of Petaluma; “Miscellaneous,” Petaluma Argus, December 26, 1873. It was renamed apparently by the newly formed Ladies Improvement Club. First newspaper listing under the new name Walnut Park: “Courierlets,” Petaluma Courier, September 22, 1896.
10“Former Resident Here,” Petaluma Courier, May 25, 1904
11“Courierlets,” Petaluma Courier, November 23, 1898.
12Munro-Fraser, p. 350; “Tustin’s Family Traced,” The Tustin News, March 25, 1982.
13Ads for Tustin’s Lumber Yard with the start date of December 18, 1855, first appeared in the Sonoma County Journal December 19, 1856; This was on lot 157, sold in 1870 to Charles Minturn by Columbus Tustin, after Samuel Tustin died in 1873. “Changed Hands,” Petaluma Argus, July 16, 1870; Sonoma County Deeds: Columbus Tustin grantor to Minturn, grantee, June 14, 1870; liber 20, p. 147.
14Heig, p 76.; “Married,” Sacramento Transcript, April 18, 1850; “Mrs. Lewis Called,” Petaluma Argus, February 15, 1900; “Petaluma Old Landmarks Going,” Petaluma Courier, August 2, 1912; “Ed Mannion’s Rear View Mirror” column, Petaluma Argus-Courier, September 14, 1963; Ed Mannion, “Historian Recalls Earlier Incident,” Petaluma Argus-Courier, July 5, 1967.
15“Sixth Annual Fair of the State Agricultural Society,” Sacramento Daily Union, September 22, 1859; “Tustin’s Newly Invented Self-raking and Double-acting reaper and Mower,” California Farmer and Journal of Useful Sciences, September 7, 1860; “Railroad Accident,” Petaluma Weekly Argus, October 30, 1869.
16“Sonoma Co. A&M Society,” Sonoma County Journal, April 22, 1859; “Sonoma County Agricultural Fair,” Daily Alta California, September 3, 1860; “Nursery for Sale,” Sonoma County Journal, October 26, 1860; “Sonoma County Fair,” Petaluma Weekly Argus,” October 3, 1867; “Courierlets,” Petaluma Courier, August 1, 1883.
17Paul W. Gates, “California’s Embattled Settlers,” California Historical Society Quarterly, June, 1962, Vol. 41, No. 2, p. 104.
18Transcript of the legal appeal in the District Court for the Northern District of California of “White vs. The United States,” December Term, 1863; George Tays, “Mariano Guadalupe Vallejo and Sonoma: A Biography and History,” California Historical Society Quarterly, Vol. 16, No. 3 (Sep., 1937), p. 237.
19“White vs. The United States” transcript; George, Tays, pp. 240-241.
20“White vs. The United States” transcript.
21Robert Lee, “Valentine Scrip,” South Dakota State Historical Society, 1972, pp. 263-264; “Report in the Matter of Juan Miranda,” Petaluma Weekly Argus, February 2, 1865.
22“After the Rogues,” Sonoma County Journal, January 30, 1863; “Supreme Court Decisions, Sacramento Daily Union, April 4, 1860.
23“After the Rogues,” Sonoma County Journal, January 30, 1863.
24Ad for “Office Rancho Arroyo de San Antonio,” Sonoma County Journal, October 27, 1855.
25“Ancient Land History,” Petaluma Courier, November 30, 1912; Tom Gregory, History of Sonoma County, California (Los Angeles: Historic Record Company, 1911), pgs. 433-437.
26“The First Fight of the Lobby,” Petaluma Weekly Argus, February 25, 1863.
27Ad for “Desirable Property for Sale,” Sonoma County Journal, December 24, 1858; Gregory, pgs. 271-272.
28“After the Rogues,” Sonoma County Journal, January 30, 1863.
29Thos. Thompson, p.20.
30Munro-Fraser, p. 284.
31Munro-Fraser, p. 551; “Things at Washoe,” Petaluma Weekly Argus, May 14, 1861; Ad, Sonoma County Journal, April 18, 1862: Stephen Madler and Kelly Tighe lease the carriage firm of Fritsch, Zartman & Co.; “Petaluma Mill,” Gold Hill Daily News, January 4, 1864; Ad, Sonoma County Journal, September 25, 1863: Fritsch & Stafford open wagon shop at old stand on Keller and English, having bought out Zartman; “Thanks,” Petaluma Weekly Argus, August 12, 1863; “Consolidated Gold and Silver Mining Company,” Gold Hill Daily News, November 27, 1863.
32“Washoe City Fades from View,” Northern Nevada Business Weekly, September 10, 2019; “John Fritsch,” Petaluma Courier, June 2, 1902.
33Robert Lee, p. 266; Transcript of the legal appeal in the District Court for the Northern District of California of “White vs. The United States,” December Term, 1863. https://law.resource.org/pub/us/case/reporter/US/68/68.US.660
34“Citizens Lookout,” Petaluma Weekly Argus, December 7, 1865;
The Preemption Act of 1841, 27th Congress, Ch. 16, 5 Stat. 453 (1841) Text of the law, accessed from www.minnesotalegalhistoryproject.org
35“Legislation for California,” Petaluma Weekly Argus, February 16, 1865; “The Miranda Case Defeated,” Petaluma Weekly Argus, April 3, 1865.
36“Settler’s Meeting, Petaluma Weekly Argus, June 23, 1864; Citizens Lookout,” Petaluma Weekly Argus, December 7, 1865.
37“Cause for Rejoicing,” Petaluma Weekly Argus, May 17, 1866; “Opposed to Miranda,” Petaluma Weekly Argus, April 26, 1866.
38Thirty-Ninth Congress Records, Session 2, 1867, page 418. www.loc.gov/law.
39Robert Lee, p. 272.
40“About to Leave Us,” Petaluma Weekly Argus, December 25, 1869.
41“Traces of Tustin’s Founding Family Still Visible in Town,” Orange County Register, August 30, 2012. 42“Former Resident Here,” Petaluma Courier, May 25, 1904.
43“For Sale at Great Bargain,” Petaluma Weekly Argus, May 14, 1868; “Changed Hands,” Petaluma Argus, July 16, 1870; “Local Brevities,” Petaluma Argus, June 7, 1878; “Tustin’s Family Traced,” The Tustin News, March 25, 1982.
44“Tustin History,” Tustin Area Historical Society, https://www.tustinhistory.com/tustin-history.htm; “Bill Soberanes Column,” Petaluma Argus-Courier, June 29, 1974.
45“Centennial Resurrection,” Petaluma Weekly Argus, March 31, 1876.

Petaluma Ranching (Petaluma Ganadería)

(Spanish translation provided by the Petaluma Historical Library & Museum)

The settlers arriving in Petaluma in the 1850s were gamblers, speculators, and adventurers. Restless and ambitious, they saw themselves as pioneers starting anew. A small number of them had struck it rich in the gold fields, either from mining ore or “mining the miners” through selling them goods and services, but most came away from the Gold Rush empty-handed. Still itching with gold fever, a number of them turned to working the land, and soon discovered that gold was the smallest part of California’s abundant storehouse.

Los colonos que llegaron a Petaluma en la década de 1850 eran jugadores, especuladores y aventureros. Inquietos y ambiciosos, se vieron a sí mismos como pioneros que comenzaban de nuevo. Un pequeño número de ellos se había hecho rico en los campos de oro, ya sea por la extracción de minerales o por “la extracción de los mineros” a través de vendiéndoles bienes y servicios, pero la mayoría salió de la fiebre del oro con las manos vacías. Todavía picazón con fiebre del oro, algunos de ellos se dedicaron a trabajar la tierra, y pronto descubrieron que el oro era la parte más pequeña del abundante almacén de California.

The Petaluma Valley appeared to them a beautiful, uninhabited wilderness, its marshes and creeks thick with waterfowl and fish, its coastal prairie tall with wild oats, its woodlands abounding with elk, quail, grizzly bears, deer, and antelope. The indigenous natives were decimated by a smallpox epidemic in 1838, the herds of longhorn cattle and sheep, introduced by Mexican colonists in the 1830s for the export trade with Europe and New England of hides, tallow, and wool, had been rounded up during the Gold Rush and fed to miners.

El valle de Petaluma les pareció un hermoso desierto deshabitado, sus marismas y arroyos llenos de aves acuáticas y peces, su pradera costera llena de avena silvestre, sus bosques abundando en alces, codornices, osos pardos, ciervos y antílopes. Los nativos indígenas fueron diezmados por una epidemia de viruela en 1838, los rebaños de ganado bovino y ovino de cuernos largos, introducidos por Colonos mexicanos en la década de 1830 para el comercio de exportación con Europa y Nueva Inglaterra de cueros, el sebo y la lana habían sido reunidos durante la Fiebre del Oro y alimentados a los mineros.

Within two years of gold’s discovery in 1848, California’s nonindigenous population exploded from 10,000 to 200,000. San Francisco, the new state’s main port of entry, became one of the busiest commercial centers in America. Feeding its burgeoning masses became paramount. The Petaluma River, a saltwater tidal slough meandering north into the Petaluma Valley from San Pablo Bay, found itself transformed into one of the city’s main supply channels.

Dos años después del descubrimiento del oro en 1848, la población no indígena de California se disparó de 10.000 a 200.000. San Francisco, el principal puerto de entrada del nuevo estado, se convirtió en uno de los centros comerciales más concurridos de América. Alimentar a sus crecientes masas se convirtió en algo primordial. La Río Petaluma, un pantano de agua salada que serpentea hacia el norte en el valle de Petaluma desde San Pablo Bay, se transformó en uno de los principales canales de abastecimiento de la ciudad.

The profusion of wild game and fowl in the valley was the first to go. Meat hunters established a trading post at an abandoned Miwok village along the river that became the genesis of Petaluma. The new settlers then set about reordering the valley to their ranching needs, rechanneling the creeks, reclaiming the wetlands, plowing the fields, and planting extensive crop systems of imported vegetables, fruit, and grain. They brought in new herds of cattle and sheep, turning them loose on the meadows and hills where they devoured the native perennial grasses, allowing settlers to reseed the entire valley with Mediterranean annual grasses better suited to heavy grazing.

La profusión de animales de caza y aves de corral en el valle fue la primera en desaparecer. Los cazadores de carne establecieron una puesto comercial en una aldea Miwok abandonada a lo largo del río que se convirtió en la génesis de Petaluma. Luego, los nuevos colonos se dispusieron a reordenar el valle según sus necesidades ganaderas, reorientando el arroyos, recuperando los humedales, arando los campos y plantando extensos sistemas de cultivos de hortalizas, frutas y cereales importados. Trajeron nuevos rebaños de ganado y ovejas, convirtiendo soltaron en los prados y colinas donde devoraron las hierbas perennes nativas, permitiendo colonos para resembrar todo el valle con pastos anuales mediterráneos más adecuados para pasto.

By the mid-1850s, the Petaluma River was filled with scow schooners, sloops, and steamers transporting cargo and passengers to and from San Francisco. Easy access to the city’s international ports set off a wave of volatile boom-and-bust cycles in Petaluma, beginning with a potato boom in 1850, during which fortunes were made and quickly lost due to soil erosion and overproduction—a common agricultural theme, despite every rancher’s effort to diversify.

A mediados de la década de 1850, el río Petaluma estaba lleno de goletas, balandras y vapores. transporte de carga y pasajeros hacia y desde San Francisco. Fácil acceso a la ciudad los puertos internacionales desencadenaron una ola de ciclos volátiles de auge y caída en Petaluma, comenzando con un auge de la papa en 1850, durante el cual se hicieron fortunas y se perdieron rápidamente debido a la erosión del suelo y sobreproducción, un tema agrícola común, a pesar del esfuerzo de cada ganadero por diversificarse.

The monocrop phenomenon continued with California’s wheat boom in the late 1850s, beginning with exports to Australia and New Zealand, and then, when the Civil War disrupted Midwest wheat production, with exports to Europe, transforming Petaluma into a bustling international river port. Sonoma County’s non-native population, which stood at 560 in 1850, grew to almost 12,000 by 1860, cultivating 750 ranches of more than 200,000 consolidated acres. Almost a quarter of the population resided in the Petaluma Valley.

El fenómeno de los monocultivos continuó con el auge del trigo de California a fines de la década de 1850, comenzando con las exportaciones a Australia y Nueva Zelanda, y luego, cuando la Guerra Civil interrumpió la producción de trigo del Medio Oeste, con exportaciones a Europa, transforma a Petaluma en un bullicioso puerto fluvial internacional. La población no nativa del condado de Sonoma, que era de 560 en 1850, creció a casi 12.000 en 1860, cultivando 750 ranchos de más de 200.000 acres consolidados. Casi una cuarta parte de la población residía en el Valle de Petaluma.

The town’s pioneer days officially ended in 1870 with the introduction of the San Francisco & Northern Pacific Railroad, which bypassed Petaluma in favor of a new river terminus near Lakeville called Donahue, putting an end to the town’s shipping monopoly and making Santa Rosa the county’s new agricultural hub. As a result, Petaluma’s economy began to stagnate. In the 1870s and ’80s, a declining wheat market, undermined by a recession, international competition, and local soil depletion, forced farmers to convert their land to cattle, sheep, and dairy ranches.

Los días pioneros de la ciudad terminaron oficialmente en 1870 con la introducción del San Francisco & Northern Pacific Railroad, que pasó por alto Petaluma en favor de una nueva terminal fluvial cerca Lakeville llamó a Donahue, poniendo fin al monopolio de envío de la ciudad y haciendo que Santa Rosa el nuevo centro agrícola del condado. Como resultado, la economía de Petaluma comenzó a estancarse. En las décadas de 1870 y 80, un mercado de trigo en declive, socavado por una recesión, competencia y el agotamiento del suelo local, obligaron a los agricultores a convertir sus tierras en ganado vacuno, ovino y ranchos lecheros.

Beginning in the 1890s, Petaluma embraced an egg boom spawned by the local inventions of both an efficient egg incubator and an industrialized method of chicken ranching. Along with the valley’s growing dairy industry, the boom elevated Petaluma to unprecedented heights of prosperity in the 1910s and 1920s. The Great Depression of the 1930s, followed by a shift to large factory farms in the Central Valley following World War II, dealt a lethal blow to Petaluma’s chicken and dairy ranches.

A partir de la década de 1890, Petaluma abrazó un boom de huevos generado por las invenciones locales de tanto una incubadora de huevos eficiente como un método industrializado de cría de pollos. Junto con creciente industria láctea del valle, el auge elevó a Petaluma a alturas sin precedentes de prosperidad en las décadas de 1910 y 1920. La Gran Depresión de la década de 1930, seguida de un cambio a grandes granjas industriales en el Valle Central después de la Segunda Guerra Mundial, asestó un golpe letal a los ranchos de pollo y lácteos de Petaluma.

In the 1970s, as a boom in suburban tract housing began encroaching on ranches, Petaluma imposed growth limits and a greenbelt around the city to help preserve local agriculture. Equestrian ranches and Sonoma County’s new monocrop, grape vineyards, gradually began replacing many dairy ranches. In 1998, Petaluma voters passed a 20-year urban growth boundary to further protect the ranchlands.

En la década de 1970, cuando un boom de viviendas en zonas suburbanas comenzó a invadir los ranchos, Petaluma impuso límites de crecimiento y un cinturón verde alrededor de la ciudad para ayudar a preservar la agricultura local. Los ranchos ecuestres y el nuevo monocultivo del condado de Sonoma, viñedos de uva, comenzaron gradualmente reemplazando muchos ranchos lecheros. En 1998, los votantes de Petaluma aprobaron un crecimiento urbano de 20 años límite para proteger aún más los ranchos.

In the early 21st century, the remaining ranches, many operated by descendants of earlier settlers, began diversifying with niche products that commanded premium prices in the market, including organic milk, artisan cheeses, organic vegetables, pasture-raised beef and lamb, and cannabis.

A principios del siglo XXI, los ranchos restantes, muchos operados por descendientes de colonos anteriores, comenzaron a diversificarse con productos de nicho que tenían precios superiores en el mercado, que incluían leche orgánica, quesos artesanales, vegetales orgánicos, carne de res y cordero criados en pastos y cannabis.

Petaluma Homesteading (Petaluma Granjas)

(Spanish translation provided by Petaluma Historical Library & Museum)

By the time of Petaluma’s founding in 1851, homesteading had become quite common in the American West, thanks to the Preemption Act of 1841. Under the act, a squatter was permitted to purchase up to 160 acres of any land he found in the public domain, assuming he had either resided on the land for at least 14 months or made agricultural improvements to it for five years.

En el momento de la fundación de Petaluma en 1851, las granjas se habían vuelto bastante comunes en el Oeste americano, gracias a la Ley de Prevención de Derechos de 1841. En virtud de esa ley, un ocupante ilegal fue se le permitió comprar hasta 160 acres de cualquier terreno que encontrara en el dominio público, asumiendo que había residido en la tierra durante al menos 14 meses o había hecho agricultura mejoras a la misma durante cinco años.

But early settlers in California, most of them failed gold miners, discovered that the land most coveted for farming and ranching was not available in the public domain, but privately held in Mexican land grants. That included Sonoma County, which was made up of 26 land grants. Thanks to the Treaty of Guadalupe Hidalgo of 1848, which brought an end to the Mexican-American War, those grants were legally protected under U.S. law. At least they appeared to be.

Pero los primeros colonos en California, la mayoría de ellos mineros de oro fracasados, descubrieron que la tierra más codiciado para la agricultura y la ganadería no estaba disponible en el dominio público, pero propiedad privada en mercedes de tierras mexicanas. Eso incluyó el condado de Sonoma, que se hizo hasta 26 mercedes de tierras. Gracias al Tratado de Guadalupe Hidalgo de 1848, que trajo con el fin de la guerra entre México y Estados Unidos, esas subvenciones estaban legalmente protegidas por los ley. Al menos parecían estarlo.

In 1851, Congress passed the California Land Act, which subjected all Mexican land grant claims, some of which were sketchy, incomplete, or outright fraudulent, to a legal review by the California Land Commission. Two-thirds of their decisions were then challenged in a court of appeals.

En 1851, el Congreso aprobó la Ley de Tierras de California, que sometió a todas las tierras mexicanas otorgar reclamaciones, algunas de las cuales eran incompletas, incompletas o rotundamente fraudulentas, a un revisión por la Comisión de Tierras de California. Dos tercios de sus decisiones fueron entonces impugnado en un tribunal de apelaciones.

The original grant holders, many of them land rich but cash poor, found themselves subjected to a laborious and costly legal process that, on average, lasted 17 years. They also faced the added burden of California’s property taxes, which became an incentive to either intensively cultivate the land or subdivide it. As a result, many grant holders were forced to sell out to their Yankee lawyers or American speculators.

Los titulares de subvenciones originales, muchos de ellos ricos en tierras pero pobres en efectivo, se encontraron sometidos a un laborioso y costoso proceso legal que, en promedio, duró 17 años. Ellos también enfrentó la carga adicional de los impuestos a la propiedad de California, que se convirtió en un incentivo para cultivar intensamente la tierra o subdividirla. Como resultado, muchos becarios fueron obligados a venderse a sus abogados yanquis o especuladores estadounidenses.

The land grant battles were intensified by a huge influx of American settlers following the Gold Rush. In 1850, the U.S. census for Sonoma County counted only 500 people. By 1860 that number had grown to almost 12,000 and, by 1870, 20,000.

Las batallas de concesión de tierras se intensificaron por una gran afluencia de colonos estadounidenses que siguieron la fiebre del oro. En 1850, el censo de Estados Unidos. Para el condado de Sonoma contaba solo a 500 personas. Por en 1860 ese número había aumentado a casi 12.000 y, en 1870, a 20.000.

The new settlers were faced with two choices: either buy land from a Mexican grant holder, risking that his title might be assigned to another claimant in years to come, or squat on the land without permission in hopes the claim would be thrown out and land placed in the public domain, allowing them to establish preemptive rights to the property.

Los nuevos colonos se enfrentaron a dos opciones: comprar tierras de una subvención Mexicana titular, arriesgándose a que su título pueda ser asignado a otro reclamante en los próximos años, o ponerse en cuclillas en la tierra sin permiso con la esperanza de que el reclamo sea descartado y aterrice colocados en el dominio público, lo que les permite establecer derechos de preferencia sobre la propiedad.

The latter strategy was used to establish the town of Petaluma, which sat at the northern tip of a 13,000-acre land grant known as the Rancho Arroyo de San Antonio. In 1851, a brazen gold miner from Missouri, George H. Keller, made his own claim to 158 acres of the grant. With the help of two surveyors, he laid out the streets and lot lines for a new town he called Petaluma. Opening up a real estate office by the river, Keller sold the lots to unsuspecting new settlers before returning home to Missouri with his ill-gotten gains.

Esta última estrategia se utilizó para establecer la ciudad de Petaluma, que se encontraba en el norte punta de una concesión de tierra de 13,000 acres conocida como el Rancho Arroyo de San Antonio. En 1851, un el descarado minero de oro de Missouri, George H. Keller, hizo su propio reclamo de 158 acres de la subvención. Con la ayuda de dos topógrafos, trazó las calles y las líneas de lote para un nuevo pueblo que llamó Petaluma. Al abrir una oficina de bienes raíces junto al río, Keller vendió los lotes a nuevos colonos desprevenidos antes de regresar a casa en Missouri con sus ganancias mal habidas.

It would take the courts 20 years to sort out the town’s tangled legal ownership, as the land grant got caught up in a marathon legal battle between competing claimants.

Los tribunales tardarían 20 años en resolver la propiedad legal enredada de la ciudad, ya que la concesión de tierras quedó atrapada en una batalla legal maratónica entre demandantes en competencia.

In the spring of 1859, Petaluma settlers formed a chapter of the Settlers’ League to ferret out crooked land sharks. As a group, they pledged not to purchase property held in any of the county’s land grants until the titles of those grants were legally “settled and reliable.”

En la primavera de 1859, los colonos de Petaluma formaron un capítulo de la Liga de Colonos para hurgar tiburones terrestres torcidos. Como grupo, se comprometieron a no comprar propiedades en ninguno de los concesiones de tierras del condado hasta que los títulos de esas concesiones fueran legalmente “establecidos y confiables.”

Their efforts came to a head later that summer with the “Bodega War,” when 80 armed league members were dispatched to the town of Bodega to defend 48 settlers being evicted by a land grant claimant and 40 armed hirelings from San Francisco. The claimant backed down.

Sus esfuerzos llegaron a un punto crítico más tarde ese verano, cuando 80 miembros de la liga armada fueron enviado al pueblo de Bodega para defender a 48 colonos desalojados por una merced de tierra reclamante y 40 mercenarios armados de San Francisco. El reclamante se echó atrás.

Tensions escalated again in the summer of 1862, when Sheriff J.M. Bowles of Petaluma was dispatched to the Healdsburg area to serve eviction notices on squatters. Anticipating trouble, he brought with him a posse comitatus of 300 largely unarmed men. They were met in Healdsburg by 50 armed and determined members of the Settlers’ League, who shot and killed a member of the sheriff’s posse. Two months later, the governor ordered Sheriff Bowles to return to Healdsburg with the Emmet Rifles and Petaluma Guard, Petaluma’s Union militias, who succeeded in peacefully evicting the squatters.

Las tensiones aumentaron de nuevo en el verano de 1862, cuando el sheriff J.M. Bowles de Petaluma fue enviado al área de Healdsburg para entregar avisos de desalojo a ocupantes ilegales. Anticipando problemas, trajo consigo una pandilla comitatus de 300 hombres en gran parte desarmados. Ellos eran reunido en Healdsburg por 50 miembros armados y decididos de la Liga de Colonos, que disparó y mató a un miembro de la pandilla del sheriff. Dos meses después, el gobernador ordenó el sheriff Bowles regresará a Healdsburg con los rifles Emmet y Petaluma Guard, la milicia de la Unión de Petaluma, que logró desalojar pacíficamente a los ocupantes ilegales.

It wasn’t until the 1870s that the legal status of all land grant claims, including Petaluma’s, were finally settled.

No fue hasta la década de 1870 que el estado legal de todas las reclamaciones de concesión de tierras, incluso de Petaluma, finalmente se resolvió.

*****

SOURCES (FUENTES)

Books

Samuel Cassiday, An Illustrated History of Sonoma County, California (Chicago: Lewis Publishing Company, 1889).
LeBaron, Blackman, Mitchell, Hansen, Santa Rosa: A Nineteenth Century Town
(Historia, Ltd., 1985).
Adair Heig, History of Petaluma: A California River Town (Petaluma, CA: Scottwall
Associates, 1982).
Harvey J. Hansen and Jeanne Thurlow Miller, Wild Oats in Eden (Santa Rosa, CA,
1962).

Newspapers
Petaluma Argus: “Letter from the Seat of War,” July 16, 1862; “The Settlers’ Troubles Happily Terminated,” October 1, 1862.
Sacramento Daily Bee: “Land Difficulties in Sonoma,” July 19, 1862.
Sonoma County Journal: “The Bodega Difficulty,” June 3, 1859; “The Healdsburg War,” July 18, 1862.

How Petaluma’s Founder Saved Abraham Lincoln

The north front of the White House, 1861 (photo White House Historical Association)

On April 12, 1861, five weeks after moving into the White House, Abraham Lincoln found himself stranded in the nation’s capital. Railroad tracks leading into the city had been torn up, bridges burned, telegraph lines severed. Across the Potomac River, a seditious mob gathered to either kidnap him or hang him from a tree on the South Lawn.

Army units protecting the capital had been dispatched to the western frontier by the previous administration, just before Lincoln’s arrival. What military remained consisted of clerks, ceremonial guards, and a military band, none of whom had fighting experience.

When news reached the capital that day that Confederates had fired upon Fort Sumter in South Carolina, the Union residents of D.C., surrounded by the slave states of Virginia and Maryland and anticipating an imminent siege, began fleeing the city.

In desperation, Lincoln turned to a group of battle-experienced office seekers staying at the Willard Hotel a block from the White House. Among them was Petaluma’s founder, George Horine Keller.  

Keller and Lincoln had met the previous year, when Keller helped escort Lincoln during his five-day visit to Leavenworth, Kansas, the city Keller co-founded shortly after establishing Petaluma.

Like Lincoln, Keller was born in Kentucky. At age 12, he enlisted to fight in the War of 1812, but was rejected because of his youth. After operating an inn in Indiana, he settled down for 15 years with his family on a farm in Weston, Missouri, before catching gold rush fever and setting off in 1850 for California.

Striking out in the gold mines, Keller found his way to a meat hunters’ encampment at the headwaters of the Petaluma Creek, where he opened a makeshift store and overnight lodge for disappointed miners like himself. Many came searching for land to homestead, only to be thwarted by California’s Mexican land grants.

In the fall of 1851, a group of frustrated settlers encouraged Keller to illegally claim 158 acres at the northern tip of a 13,000-acre land grant known as the Rancho Arroyo de San Antonio. Hiring a surveyor, he platted and subdivided 40 acres of his claim into a town he called Petaluma, selling off the lots to land-hungry settlers.

1855 map of Petaluma (photo Sonoma County Library)

In 1853, Keller returned to Weston, Missouri, leaving behind a town built on fraudulent land deeds, which, along with a protracted court battle over the Rancho Arroyo de San Antonio land grant, would leave Petaluma on shaky legal ground for the next 20 years.

When Kansas Territory opened for settlement in 1854, Keller and a handful of partners from Weston formed a development company to create Leavenworth, the territory’s first town, along the Missouri River.

As was the case in Petaluma, Keller and company squatted on land they didn’t own—in this case, land held by the Delaware Indian tribe—with plans to subdivide it, reap the rewards, and address the legal consequences down the road (which they eventually did, settling with the Delawares).

Two days before the Leavenworth Town Company began auctioning off town lots, Keller and his son-in-law A.T. Kyle opened the town’s first hotel, The Leavenworth House, to a full house of land buyers.

Ad for Keller’s Leavenworth House in the Leavenworth Herald, October 13, 1854

Or so they thought. It quickly became clear most of their guests were activists from Missouri, more interested in establishing residency for voting purposes in Leavenworth than actually living there.

The seeds of the influx were planted in the Kansas-Nebraska Act of 1854, which left it to territory residents to determine whether to eventually become a free or a slave territory.

Authored by Stephen Douglas, a Democratic senator from Illinois looking to boost his presidential prospects, the act overturned the Missouri Compromise of 1820 which banned slavery above the latitude of Missouri’s southern border.

Enraged by the act, abolitionists formed the Republican Party to stop the further spread of slavery. Lincoln, who had returned to legal practice after serving a term in the U.S. House of Representatives, was so incensed he decided to reenter politics to run against Douglas in the next senate election.

Leavenworth rapidly turned into a hotbed of electoral fraud, assaults, and murders, in a violent struggle between pro- and anti-slavery factions known as “Bleeding Kansas.”

Kansas Territory abolitionist militia (Jayhawkers), 1858 (Photo Kansas Historical Society)

An abolitionist, Keller turned his hotel into a popular gathering place for militant “Free-Staters” known as “Jayhawkers,” as well as part of the network providing refuge to escaped slaves on the Underground Railroad, making him a target of the “Border Ruffians,” a pro-slave militia openly assaulting Free-Staters on the streets, in their homes, and at public meetings.

Shortly after fending off 20 armed Border Ruffians one night at his hotel, Keller was taken prisoner and confined to a blockhouse in Weston, before eventually escaping to safety in Nebraska Territory.

In 1856, after most of the partisan violence had been quelled, Keller returned to Leavenworth to find Border Ruffians had taken over his hotel. He quickly built a new hotel, the Mansion House. Dubbed “Abolition Hill” by pro-slavers, it soon became the local Free-Staters headquarters.

Leavenworth, Kansas, 1867 (photo courtesy of Legends of America)

Among his allies in town, the amiable Keller acquired the fond moniker “Uncle George” for resourcefulness and generosity—“the husband of all the widows and the father of all the orphans.” In 1857, he was elected to the first Kansas Territorial Legislature, which created a constitution establishing Kansas as a free territory.

Their request for statehood was blocked by Southern legislators in Congress until January 1861, when enough Southern states seceded from the Union to override the blockage. On April 4, 1861, Kansans elected James H. Lane as one of their first U.S. senators.

James Henry Lane, U.S. Senator from Kansas, 1861 (photo Library of Congress)

A lawyer known for electrifying oration, the daring and flamboyant Lane was a close colleague of Keller. He was also a Mexican War hero, and had commanded the Free State militia during “Bleeding Kansas,” ruthlessly and cunningly out maneuvering much larger pro-slaver forces.

Lane befriended Lincoln during Lincoln’s visit to Leavenworth in 1859, a year after his senate race against Douglas. Despite Lincoln’s defeat, his debates with Douglas—in which Lincoln argued that the fundamental rights to life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness triumphed over Douglas’ advocacy of states’ rights for institutions like slavery—elevated him to the national stage.

Postage stamp commemorating the 1858 debates between Abraham Lincoln and Stephen Douglas durung the U.S. Senate race (image in public domain)

By the time of Lincoln’s visit, Leavenworth had grown to 10,000 residents, making it the largest city between St. Louis and San Francisco. Lincoln used the city as a focus group for a speech he was planning to deliver two months later at the Cooper Union in New York City, an event that would launch his campaign for the presidency.

After Lane’s election to the senate, Keller accompanied him and dozens of former Free State militia veterans to Washington to lobby President Lincoln for commissions in the Union army or federal appointments back home. Most of them checked into the Willard Hotel, just down the street from the White House.

On April 17, 1861, five days after the attack on Fort Sumter, Lincoln received reliable intelligence that Confederates across the Potomac River in Virginia were preparing to march on Washington. He immediately summoned Senator Lane to the Oval Office, and asked him to assemble an armed militia of his Kansas colleagues to defend the White House.

Lincoln in his White House office (photo White House Historical Association)

Back at the Willard, Lane formed the Frontier Guard of Kansas, ultimately comprising of 115 members of his former militia, including Keller. They marched in formation down the street to the White House, where they set up camp in the East Room, arming themselves with crates of pistols, rifles, bayonets, and ammunition.

Mounting a propaganda campaign, Lane spread rumors throughout D.C. that the Frontier Guard was more than 1,000-men strong and planning a counter attack on the Confederate stronghold across the river. For ten tenuous days, the Frontier Guard defended Lincoln in the White House until Union troops were able to break through the Confederate blockade.  

Frontier Guard of Kansas on South Lawn of the White House, April 1861 (photo Library of Congress)

Lincoln thanked each of the guard members personally for having saved the government from overthrow. The guard returned to Kansas, where they formed the nucleus of two Union companies during the Civil War.

Keller assumed command of Leavenworth’s “Old Guard,” protecting the city from Confederate forces. A year after the war ended, the Kansas governor rewarded him for his service by appointing him the first warden of the Kansas State Penitentiary.

Keller died on his farm outside Leavenworth in 1876, two years after the legal battle over the Rancho Arroyo de San Antonio land grant, on which he had founded Petaluma, was finally settled.

*****

A version of this story appeared in the Petaluma Argus-Courier

SOURCES:

Books, Magazines, Journals

Samuel Cassiday, Pen Pictures From the Garden of the World, An Illustrated History of Sonoma County (The Lewis Publishing Co., Chicago, 1889), pp. 109-114.

William Connelley, editor, A Standard History of Kansas and Kansans, Volume 14 (Chicago: Lewis, 1918), pp. 1209-1210; Frank M. Gable, “The Kansas Penitentiary,” p. 379.

Jelani Cobb, “How Parties Die,” New Yorker, March 15, 2020.

William G. Cutler, History of the State of Kansas (Chicago: A.T. Andreas, 1883).

Adair Heig, History of Petaluma: A California River Town (Petaluma, CA: Scottwall Associates, 1982), p. 29.

David Hornbeck, “The Patenting of California’s Private Land Claims, 1851-1885,” Geographical Review, Vol. 69, No. 4 (Oct., 1979), pp. 434-448.

Jesse A. Hall and Leroy T. Hand, History of Leavenworth County, Kansas (Topeka, Kansas: Historical Publishing Company,1921), pp. 116-123.

George W. Martin, editor, “Territorial Legislature of 1857-58: George Horine Keller,” Kansas Historical Society Collection, Vol. 10, 1907-1908, p. 211.

James McClure, editor, Abraham Lincoln’s Stories and Speeches (Chicago: Rhodes & McClure Publishing Company, 1908), p. 111.

Henry Miles Moore, “Sketches of the Early Settlement of the City and County of Leavenworth,” Western Life (Leavenworth, KS), August 3, 1900.

Henry Miles Moore, Early History of Leavenworth, City and County (Samuel Dodsworth Book Co., Leavenworth, KS, 1906), pgs. 21, 24, 56, 86, 103, 123-127, 147, 161, 171.

James P. Muehlberger, The 116: The True Story of Abraham Lincoln’s Lost Guard (Ankerwycke, 2015). 

J.P. Munro-Fraser, History of Sonoma County (San Francisco: Alley, Bowen & Co., 1880), p. 131, pp. 259-262.

Donald J. Pisani, “Squatter Law in California, 1850-1858,” Western Historical Quarterly, Autumn, 1994, Vol. 25, No. 3, pp. 277-310.

Robert Allan Thompson, Historical and Descriptive Sketch of Sonoma County, California (Philadelphia: L.H. Everts & Co., 1877), pp. 53-54.

Websites

“Guarding the White House,” The White House Historical Association, whitehousehistory.org
https://www.whitehousehistory.org/press-room/press-timelines/guarding-the-white-house

“1851, March 3 – 09 Stat. 631, Act to Settle Private Land Claims in California,” US Government Legislation and Statutes. https://digitalcommons.csumb.edu/hornbeck_usa_2_d/7

Newspapers

Leavenworth Bulletin: “The Flag Still Waves (Election results),” November 4, 1863; “Lane Pays His Own Expenses,” August 3, 1864.

Leavenworth Times: “The Old Guard,” July 31, 1861; “Official Vote of Leavenworth County,” November 10, 1861;”Kyle’s Reminiscence of Early Border Life,” January 11, 1902; “The Planters House Is a Monument to Exciting Past,” February 25, 1940; “Lincoln’s Visit to the First City of Kansas,” February 14, 2018.

National Republican (D.C): “The Military Movements Yesterday,” April 20, 1861; “Gen. James H. Lane’s Company,” April 24, 1861; “The Frontier Guard,” April 27, 1861; “Visit to the Capital,” April 29, 1861.

Petaluma’s Night Club Row

Bar at Gilardi’s Corner, 1940s (photo Sonoma County Library)

The swanky Lanai Lounge opened in the Hotel Petaluma on August 16, 1938. Taking up the hotel’s entire front corner, it was adorned with South Seas murals, bananas hanging from the ceiling, a koi pond, and a horseshoe-shaped bar that served exotic rum cocktails, transporting its customers to a romantic and languorous tropical paradise of rattan furniture, flower leis, and live Hawaiian music.

To the delight of hotel operator Vernon Peck, the lounge was an overnight sensation. The Golden Gate Bridge had opened the year before, and waves of tourists were passing through town on the Redwood Highway, headed for resorts along the Russian River, where they danced the night away to the big bands of Harry James, Buddy Rogers, and Glenn Miller.

Hotel Petaluma, with lanai Lounge sign, 1938 (photo Sonoma County Library)

Meanwhile, Tiki culture was sweeping the Bay Area, having made a big splash in 1937 with the opening of Trader Vic’s restaurant in Oakland. As word spread of Peck’s exotic roadside attraction, members of the Bohemian Grove, an exclusive Monte Rio men’s club, made ritual stopovers at the lounge on their way from San Francisco to their annual summer gathering on the Russian River. Their chauffeured limousines lined up outside the hotel caused a sensation in town.

Ad announcing Lanai Lounge opening, 1938 (Petaluma Argus-Courier

That cachet helped draw in Peck’s other target clientele, Petaluma’s “smart set.” While a number of bars and grocery taverns sprang up around town following Prohibition’s repeal in 1933, there was a crowd of young men and women more attracted to the lure of night clubs. That was largely a hangover from the speakeasies of Prohibition, which ushered in both the cocktail culture and mixed sexes drinking together in a semi-public establishment.

Mike Gilardi, owner of a cigar store across the street from the hotel, had converted his store into a popular cocktail lounge in 1937, offering jazz, dancing, and an exciting mixology of new slings and fizzes.

Gilardi’s Corner at Washington & Kentucky streets, c. 1949 (photo Sonoma County Library)

Piggybacking on the success of Gilardi’s Corner, the Lanai Lounge quickly became the second anchor of Petaluma’s “night club row.”

Peck needed the business. The Great Depression had sent many hotel properties into receivership, or else turned them entirely into single-room occupancy hotels (SROs). Traveling businessmen and salesmen were starting to take rooms in the inexpensive new motels being built  along the highways, which, in addition to convenient parking, also relieved them from running a gauntlet of hotel staff with their hands out for tips.

Lanai Lounge matchbook cover (image in public domain)

In 1940, after successfully guiding the Hotel Petaluma through the Great Depression, Vernon Peck departed for a hotel in Los Angeles, selling his lease to Harold Eckart, a hotelier from Olympia, Washington. Eckart undertook a major renovation of the hotel in 1945, including a complete makeover of the Lanai Lounge, which he rechristened the Redwood Room. Newly decorated with large photo murals of the redwoods, the cocktail lounge quickly became a favorite hangout of Petaluma’s postwar café society, known as “the 400.”

Postcard of mural in the Redwood Room (image public domain)

They were serenaded most evenings by Earle Bond, a locally renowned organ player. Eckart also created a studio in the hotel for the local arm of the Santa Rosa radio station KSRO, and on the roof a Civil Air Patrol spotting station that continued to operate during the Cold War.

Redwood Room at corner of Hotel Petaluma, 1954 (photo Sonoma County Library)

The opening of Highway 101 to the east of town in 1956 put an end to travelers passing through the downtown on the Redwood Highway. As inexpensive motels were available just off the freeway, the Hotel Petaluma converted to being primarily an SRO.

In 1959, the local Elks Club, seeking more space for their club gatherings, purchased the hotel from the original Petaluma Hotel Company trust for $91,160, far short of the $285,000 local citizens had invested in 1924, when the hotel was built in a GoFundMe fashion. The Elks closed off the Redwood Room, carving it up into retail shops, blocked out the lobby for meeting spaces, and roofed over the open courtyard entrance, turning it into an exclusive barroom for club members.

Ed Mannion and Bill Soberanes of the Argus-Courier standing outside Gilardi’s Corner on the eve of its demolition in 1967 (photo Sonoma County Library)

In 1967, Gilardi’s Corner fell to the wrecking ball when Washington Street was widened into four lanes. A parking lot for the corner bank was eventually built in its place, erasing the last of Petaluma’s night club row.

*****

SOURCES:

Petaluma Argus-Courier: “Lanai Cocktail Lounge Opens at Hotel,” August 17, 1938; “KSRO to Close Local Station,” February 16, 1951; “Through the New Hotel Petaluma This City Offers Accommodations to Local People, Travelers-Unexcelled,” November 29, 1953; “Elks Hotel Project Will Cost $50,000,” January 22, 1960; “Colorful Fifties in Petaluma,” January 22, 1969.

Bill Soberanes column, Petaluma Argus-Courier: July 3, 1959, August 17, 1971, October 29, 1974, July 7, 1978, October 24, 1980, February 2, 2000.

Santa Rosa Press Democrat: “$35,000 to be Invested in ‘Motels,’” March 20, 1938.

A Wronged Woman’s Rights

The Groundbreaking Trial of Penngrove’s Mary Ann Kenney

By John Patrick Sheehy & Jack Withington

Penngrove Rail Station, circa 1900 (photo Sonoma County Library)

To Sarah Looney, it looked like cold-blooded murder. 

On the afternoon of July 18, 1872, Looney was standing outside her Penngrove ranch house watching  William Cummings, a 20-year-old Irish laborer, leave the ranch with a wagonload of wood pulled by a team of horses. The wagon’s bed creaked as the wagon turned onto Adobe Road, heading for the Lavin Ranch half a mile to the south, where Cummings was regularly employed. 

As the wagon passed Bannon Lane, Looney spotted John Bannon’s daughter, Mary Ann Kenney, walking across her family’s ranch toward Adobe Road. She was carrying a double-barreled shotgun in her hands. After jumping over the picket fence next to the road, the 17-year-old Kenney approached Cummings’ wagon from behind and leveled the shotgun at his back. 

Looney couldn’t make out any conversation between the two, only the first shotgun blast, which missed Cummings. As Cummings turned in his seat, Kenney again leveled the gun and pulled the trigger. The second shot took off the top of Cummings’ head. The horses bolted, throwing Cummings back onto the wagon’s load of wood as they raced down the road.

Penngrove’s Main Street, circa 1900 (photo Sonoma County Library)

Upon hearing the gunshots, Looney’s husband Robert came running out of the house in time to see the petite, five-foot Kenney walking back to the picket fence, where she carefully placed the shotgun on the top rail, took hold of two pickets, and vaulted over the four-foot high fence in a single bound. Picking up the gun, she calmly walked toward her parents’ house. 

When the horses pulling Cummings’ wagon arrived at the Lavin Ranch, they found the gate closed. As they swerved to avoid it, the wagon lurched to one side, throwing Cummings onto the road. Ranch owner Tim Lavin found him there, breathing his last gasps, the top of his skull blown off. 

1877 Map of Penngrove, with the Bannon, Looney, and Lavin ranches (courtesy of Thompson’s 1877 Sonoma County Atlas)

By that time, John Bannon was driving his daughter in a carriage to Petaluma, where she surrendered to James Knowles, the town marshal. She explained to Knowles that Cummings left her no choice. Despite her warnings, he persisted in spreading lies and slander about her virtue, leading her to painfully separate from her newlywed husband Thomas.

Knowles placed her under arrest at his home until an inquest hearing could be held two days later. 

At the inquest, Kenney appeared, her face hidden by a veiled Shaker bonnet. On the advice of her lawyer, she refused to testify. After listening to the testimony of Sarah Looney and a few character witnesses, the grand jury, with Robert Looney as its foreman, charged Kenney with first degree murder. 

Penngrove rancher and county supervisor John O’Hara served as a jury member at Mary Ann Kenney’s inquest hearing (photo Sonoma County Library)

In terms of the law, the case was cut-and-dried. The only justification for homicide was either self-defense or the defense of one’s home. Neither seduction nor slander qualified. However, small town society at the time was merciless to young women whose reputations had been blemished by sexual scandal. Once disgraced, their options for marriage or honorable work often became severely limited.

As a result, in the court of popular opinion, or “highway law” as it was called, deadly retribution was viewed as justifiable in cases where a young woman had been seduced, sexually assaulted, or had her virtue slandered, assuming such retribution was carried out by one of the woman’s male relatives. Likewise, in cases where a husband discovered another man making love to his wife, or else boasting about making love to her, he was viewed as justified in killing the man. What made Kenney’s case unusual was that she had meted out the deadly vengeance herself.

The case attracted a flock of reporters from San Francisco. Their stories were carried on the wires around the country, setting off a national debate as to whether women had rights equal to men when it came to exercising highway law.

Article in the Brooklyn Daily Eagle, August 2, 1872

To add some celebrity sparkle, Kenney was identified in news reports as the niece of the famous Irish prizefighter and New York congressman, John Morrissey.

Mary Ann Kenney’s uncle, legendary prizefighter and congressman John Morrissey (photo Library of Congress)

Kenney’s bail was set at $20,000 ($450,000 in today’s currency). It was posted by her father and 16 of his friends, including Petaluma coroner Kelly Tighe who had performed the autopsy on Cummings’ body. A barrel-chested, loquacious man with a booming Irish accent, Tighe operated the Brooklyn Hotel at the corner of Kentucky and Washington streets, site of today’s Hotel Petaluma. The hotel’s saloon, The Reading Room, was a popular gathering place for Irish immigrants.

On the Fourth of July, two weeks before Cummings’ murder, Kenney and her husband Thomas ventured into town to celebrate with friends. It was their first trip off the Bannon Ranch since their wedding five months earlier. Kenney’s parents had surreptitiously worked to keep the newlyweds secluded in Penngrove in an effort to protect them from Cummings’ vicious rumors.

Four of July parade on Main Street, Petaluma, circa 1880s (photo Sonoma County Library)

Once in town, the couple split up, with Mary Ann going off to visit her girlfriends, and Thomas joining a group of fellow farmhands at The Reading Room. No sooner had he ordered a beer, than an inebriated Cummings sauntered up to the bar and began making salacious remarks about Mary Ann. Thomas threw his beer in Cummings’ face, and the two began to fight.

Thomas’s friends quickly separated them, hurrying Thomas out to the street, where they told him about the slanderous stories Cummings had been spreading—that his wife was a common prostitute with whom he, and other men he could name, had engaged in sex with since she was 12 years old.

On their carriage ride home that night, Thomas told Mary Ann what he had heard and asked if any of it was true. Bursting into tears, she denied it all as lies. Once they reached the ranch, Mary Ann’s parents encouraged the couple not to pay any attention to the foul slanders, that they would die out with time. 

Main Street leading into Penngrove, circa 1890 (photo Sonoma County Library)

A week passed. During that time, Thomas brought the matter up with Mary Ann a couple of times, leading to fights between the couple. Finally, concerned that her husband did not believe her assertions of innocence, Mary Ann insisted they separate and not reunite until her name was cleared. Thomas reluctantly left the ranch to take a job working for the railroad in Sonoma Valley.

Kenney’s murder trial was held at the county courthouse in Santa Rosa. A number of her Penngrove neighbors who had known her since she was a child, testified to her modest chastity, describing her as intelligent, quiet and retiring, with a good-natured disposition. A bold horsewoman, she was known for her physical prowess, taking charge of plowing the fields of her family’s 140-acre ranch while still a teen.

Sonoma County Courthouse, Santa Rosa, circa 1875 (photo Sonoma County Library)

William Cummings had come to live on the ranch five years before, when Mary Ann’s father hired him as a young ranch hand. He quickly became enamored with Mary Ann, asking her parents repeatedly for her hand in marriage, which they refused. Instead, another Irish laborer on the ranch, 30-year-old Thomas Kenney, won her heart.

After Mary Ann’s parents accepted his proposal to marry their daughter, Cummings left the ranch to work on the Lavin Ranch down the road. Following the wedding of Mary Ann and Thomas on Feb. 4, 1872, Cummings announced to friends he would dedicate himself to separating the couple before the year was out. 

It took the jury only 50 minutes of deliberation to return with a verdict of not guilty in the case. Public opinion also sided with the verdict, extending their approval of a wronged woman’s right to deadly revenge. Wrote one local newspaper: “The tongue of her slanderer is silent forever. Not only she, but everybody else is safe from his malice.”

Three months after Mary Ann’s acquittal, Thomas filed a legal notice that his wife had abandoned him. “She left me,” he told reporters, “because she was conscience-struck.”

Unidentified couple at their Penngrove ranch, circa 1900 (photo Sonoma County Library)

Mary Ann continued to live and work on the family ranch in Penngrove for the rest of her life. In 1899, at the age of 43, she married Jens Thomsen, a Danish chicken rancher, who joined her on the ranch until his unexpected death in 1906. She herself died in 1932 at the age of 76. 

*****

A version of this story appeared in the Petaluma Argus-Courier, December 15, 2023, as well as in Jack Withington’s book, Looking Back at Penngrove, published in 2023.

SOURCES:

Newspapers

Cloverdale Bee: “Our Petaluma Letter,” August 3, 1872.

Daily Alta California: “Mrs. Kinney’s Case,” July 27, 1872.

Petaluma Argus: “Terrible Tragedy,” July 20, 1872; “The Cummings Murder,” July 27, 1872; “Examination of Mrs. Kinney,” July 27, 1872; “The Petaluma Tragedy,” July 27, 1872 (reprinted in the Weekly Butte Record); “Notice (of abandonment),” February 26, 1873; “Nonagenarian Passes Away,” January 22, 1917.

Petaluma Argus-Courier: “Loved Pioneer Woman Called,” January 28, 1932.

Petaluma Courier: “Local News: Bannon Estate,” December 31, 1891.

Petaluma Crescent: “The Petaluma Tragedy,” July 19, 1872 (reprinted in the Cloverdale Bee, July 27, 1872); “Verdict in the Petaluma Case,” July 20, 1872 (reprinted in the Daily Alta California, July 21, 1872); “Why the Woman Shot Her Slanderer,” July 27, 1872 (reprinted in the Weekly Colusa Sun).

Sacramento Bee: “Slander and Killing,” July 23, 1872.

San Francisco Chronicle: “The Petaluma Tragedy,” July 21, 1872; “Not Guilty,” October 27, 1872.

San Jose Mercury News: “Pacific Coast Items,” July 25, 1872.

Santa Rosa Press Democrat: “Sonoma Ranches Change Hands,” August 29, 1900.

Books & Documents

Thea Lowry, Empty Shells (Novato, CA: Manifold Press, 2000) p. 33.

U.S. Sonoma County Census: 1860, 1870, 1880, 1900, 1920, 1930.

Penngrove’s Harum Scarum Argonaut

David Wharff’s Gold Rush Odyssey

Illustration of the David Wharff Ranch, Penngrove, current site of the Green Mill (from Thos. Thompson’s Historical Atlas of Sonoma County, 1877)

In August 1849, shortly after arriving in Sacramento from a six-month voyage around Cape Horn, David Wharff watched as a man in a gambling hall walked up to a faro table and casually placed $10,000 in gold nuggets ($315,000 in today’s currency) on the queen of spades. A game of chance, faro was more popular than poker in gold country because the odds were better.

As a crowd of awed onlookers gathered around the table, the faro dealer made nine consecutive draws from a deck of cards, with each draw turning one card over for himself and another for the gambler. On the tenth draw, as a matching queen card fell to the gambler’s side of the table, the crowd erupted with a roar. The gambler, a local merchant named Sam Brannan, pocketed his winnings, bought drinks for the house, and strolled out into the night.

Sam Brannan (photo courtesy of Utah Historical Society)

For Brannan, the wager may have seemed like small change, but to Wharff and the other Forty-niners in the hall it captured the high stakes gamble they had undertaken, deserting their families, jobs, and farms to sail around the world or trek across the country to California with hopes of hitting the jackpot. Brannan was among those who made a fortune enabling their California dream.

In 1848, while working in his dry goods store in Sacramento, then called Sutter’s Fort, Brannan sold some goods to a group of men who paid in gold nuggets. They had discovered the nuggets while constructing a sawmill for John Sutter along the South Fork of the American River.

With foresight, Brannan quickly converted his store into a mining supply center, the only one between San Francisco and the Sierra foothills. By 1849, 50,000 gold seekers had descended upon the area, and Brannan’s store was generating $150,000 a month in sales (almost $4.7 million in today’s currency), making him California’s first millionaire.

Illustration of Sam Brannan’s store at Sutter’s Fort, 1848 (photo Gutenberg Project)

But while Brannan and others made fortunes selling goods and services—one prostitute claimed to have made $50,000 ($1.5 million in today’s currency) after a year’s work—the majority of the Forty-n­iners came away from the gold fields empty handed, left to retreat back to the lives they discarded or, like David Wharff, redirect their California dream to a new wager with better odds, like farming.

Born into a colonial family in Gloucester, Massachusetts, Wharff inherited the stern demeanor of his Protestant ancestors, as well as a close attention to the value of a dollar. After finishing grammar school, he moved to Boston at age 14 to apprentice as a carpenter. By the time he turned 20, he was earning a journeyman’s wage of $1.25 a day ($40 in today’s currency), not enough to marry and settle down with the girl of his dreams, Olive Densmore from Nova Scotia. When word reached Boston of a gold strike in California, it resounded like a shot across the bow for frustrated men like Wharff.

Ad for Clipper Ship to Gold Rush (photo in the public domain)

Unable to afford a ticket on a first class clipper ship, Wharff and six of his friends pooled their money to book passage on a small, battered brig, the Christiana, departing Boston on February 15, 1849, among a flotilla of more than 500 vessels leaving eastern ports, packed with “Argonauts”—named for the band of heroes in Greek mythology who accompanied Jason on a sea quest for the golden fleece—undertaking the 15,000-mile voyage around Cape Horn to San Francisco and the golden state.

Wharff and the other nine passengers on the Christiana passed their time gambling, playing checkers, smoking, drinking, telling stories, and daydreaming of how to spend their gold. After subsiding for two months on salted meat that went bad, butter and lard that turned rancid, hard bread that became laced with bugs, and cheese nibbled on by rats, they put in for ten days just south of Rio de Janeiro for fresh water, provisions, and new sails.

“We could buy oranges, $1 a thousand; wine, 10 cents a gallon,” Wharff wrote.

Then came the most perilous leg of the journey, rounding Cape Horn. After 55 days braving monstrous waves, terrifying winds, and frigid temperatures, the ship docked at Valparaiso, Chile, where Wharff and his friends spent five days ashore watching Spaniards bet stacks of gold doubloons on horse races, further fueling their desire to reach California.

Valparaiso, Chile, 1850 (photo in public domain)

Finally, on the morning of August 16, 1849, six months after leaving Boston, the Christiana sailed through the Golden Gate alongside twenty other windjammers. The crew deserted the moment the ship docked. During the two days it took the captain to find replacements, Wharff and his friends took in the night life of the mushrooming metropolis, more than 500 bars and 1,000 gambling dens.

San Francisco, 1851 (photo Library of Congress)

At establishments like the Parker House or the El Dorado, women dealt the cards, brass bands or banjo musicians performed, and gold nuggets sat piled high on the gambling tables. They could eat at places like the Fly Trap or Monkey Warner’s Cobweb Palace, which was decorated with whales’ teeth. After six months of boredom cooped up in close quarters at sea, it was like entering a carnival.

From San Francisco, a pilot boat guided the Christiana up the river to their final destination, Sacramento. By the time Wharff stepped off the boat, he was down to his last 25 cents. Spotting a house under construction near the wharf, he approached the foreman, who, after learning he was a carpenter, hired him on the spot for $20 a day.

Sacramento waterfront, 1850s (photo courtesy of Bancroft Library Collection)

Wharff and his Boston friends formed a company to share in the collective spoils of their gold diggings, purchasing an empty lot in Sacramento for $10 upon which to erect a small, prefabricated house they had brought with them on the Christina, to serve as company headquarters. However, within a couple of weeks of watching Forty-niners return to town with $3,000-$4,000 in gold dust ($95,000 to $125,000 in today’s currency), the collective fell apart, as each man set off on his own for the foothills.

After Wharff earned $300 ($9,500 in today’s currency) working 15 days as a carpenter, he paid a driver with an ox team $80 ($2,500 in today’s currency) to haul him, his equipment and provisions up to Weaver Creek in El Dorado County, where he quickly learned squeezing gold out of rocks was harder work than he imagined. Not only were living conditions primitive and costs high, the work itself—digging, pickaxing, shoveling, clawing, scraping, shifting, and panning—was tedious, with little success. The first piece of gold he found was the size of a pin head.

Prospectors working gold placer, 1850 (photo in public domain)

Teaming up with three other men, Wharff moved on to the South Fork of the American River, where they built a cofferdam of sandbags to divert the water around a small stretch of river bottom. For two days they risked their lives in ice cold water from the snow pack, blocked by a sandbag wall teetering on the verge of collapse, to extract $800 of gold nuggets ($25,000 in today’s currency), which they divided up and then went their separate ways. Wharff traveled to Marysville to pan for gold, and then to Shasta County, where he joined 16 other men on a mining crew.

Finally, after more than two years working the riverbeds and mines, Wharff decided to call it quits. He had witnessed his fair share of casualties, men broken by exhaustion and fatigue, as well as those whose lives were taken by disease, murders, fights, and mining accidents. He returned to San Francisco with a full belt of gold dust strapped to his waist, not enough to make him a wealthy man, but enough to stake a claim in starting a new life. For Wharff, that meant returning to Boston to claim the hand of his sweetheart.

On December 15, 1851, he purchased a $200 ticket ($6,200 in today’s currency) aboard a steamer of 650 passengers departing San Francisco for New York via Nicaragua. The overland route across Nicaragua, similar to the route across the Isthmus of Panama, trimmed 8,000 miles and five months of travel time off the voyage around Cape Horn. The tradeoff was a risk of contracting a deadly tropical disease, such as malaria, yellow fever, or cholera.

1849 ad for Nicaragua route on California Steam Navigation Company (photo in public domain)

After sailing to the port of San Juan del Sur on Nicaragua’s west coast, Wharff and the other passengers were greeted by a long line of mules waiting to take them on an 11-mile trail to Lake Nicaragua. At night they slept on elevated wooden benches to protect them from poisonous centipedes on the ground.

Nicaragua route of the California Steam Navigation Company (map in the public domain)

In the morning, they rode a ferry across the lake, disembarking to walk around a set of rapids down to the San Juan River, where they boarded steamers on a 100-mile river journey through dense forests of mangrove trees, dazzling tropical flowers, and exotic animals such as crocodiles, parrots, and jaguars. At the port of Greytown on the Caribbean coast, they transferred to a steamer bound for New York, arriving on January 15, 1852, only one month after leaving San Francisco.

Wharff, bewhiskered and in rough miner’s garb, was unrecognizable to his family when he showed up in Boston. Only his voice was familiar. After shaving and donning a new suit of clothes, he called on the girl he’d left behind.

Illustration of David Wharff, 1852 (courtesy of Sacramento Bee)

But after two and half years in California, Boston felt tired and slow. Carpenters were still working for $1.25 a day compared to the $20 he was able to earn in Sacramento. Within a few days, he was ready to return to the gold fields. His older sister Mary Jane stepped in, agreeing to go with him, but only on the condition he marry Olive and bring her with them.

Court Street in Boston, 1850 (photo in public domain)

The couple wed on February 19, 1852 and, along with Mary Jane, departed for California on March 1st. The steamers using the Nicaragua and Isthmus of Panama routes were booked through mid-summer, so Wharff paid $900 ($28,500 in today’s currency) for three tickets aboard the Sam Appleton, a large windjammer sailing around the Horn.

A windjammer sailing to San Francisco, 1850s (photo in the public domain)

The ship made only one stop in Valparaiso and arrived in San Francisco on July 22nd. Sailing on to Sacramento, Wharff took the two women to the company house he and his Boston friends built. Only one of the of men was there, the rest were working in the mines.

“My wife and sister,” wrote Wharff, “thought it was a hard-looking place. I had never seen a broom in the house since we put it up in ’49, so you can judge how clean it was.”

Sacramento was experiencing a heat wave so hot the women refused to accompany Wharff to the diggings. Instead, he had to content himself with carpentry work around town, even though the day rate had dropped to $12. That may have been for the best.

By 1852, an estimated 250,000 people had flooded into California, making for the largest migration in U.S. history. With most surface deposits exhausted, the days of the miner with a pick, shovel, and wash pan were ending, replaced by well-capitalized mining companies operating with deep power drills and hydraulic water jets that blasted away mountainsides.

California hydraulic mining, 1850s (photo miningartifacts.org)

Mary Jane and Olive prevailed on Wharff to move them out of the company house into a nearby rental, while he built a new house on the same lot. No sooner had he finished than a fire (later known as the Great Conflagration) swept through Sacramento on November 2, 1852, burning down more than 80 percent of the city’s structures.

A wind-blown ember set fire to the floor joists of the new house, but two men passing by— Sacramento merchants Leland Stanford and Collis P. Huntington, who a decade later would team up with Mark Hopkins and Charles Crocker to form the Central Pacific Railroad as “the Big Four”—extinguished the blaze, saving the house.

Collis P. Huntington, 1860 (photo courtesy of Huntington Library), and Leland Stanford, 184 ( photo courtesy of Stanford Archives)

The following morning, a merchant approached Wharff with an offer to buy his house and move it down the street. Having spent $300 to construct it, he sold the house and some furniture in it for $2,200 ($70,000 in today’s currency). He and Olive, who was four months pregnant with their first child, promptly boarded a steamer for San Francisco, where they rented a small house on Washington Street. Mary Jane, who was making a good living as a dressmaker, stayed behind in Sacramento, where she soon married Frank Green, a Forty-niner from Boston.

After four months in San Francisco, Wharff ran into a Boston man who had returned from the east coast with three large bundles of fruit trees. Having earlier purchased land in Sonoma County, he asked Wharff to accompany him there to help construct the floor and doors of a wall tent he was planning to install as temporary living quarters. Ever adventurous, Wharff boarded a small schooner with the man and sailed up a winding creek to Petaluma.

Established as a trading post two years earlier by meat hunters shipping game down to San Francisco, by early 1853 Petaluma consisted of two hotels, roughly 50 houses, a dry goods store, and a potato warehouse. As Sonoma County’s main shipping port, it found itself at the center of the area’s first agricultural boom—potatoes.

First introduced by an Irish immigrant named John Keyes out at Bodega Head in 1850, potato farming was well-suited to the area’s coastal climate. Quick to grow, easy to transport and store without refrigeration, potatoes became a staple for the burgeoning population of San Francisco.

The Cash Store in Bloomfield, 1850s (photo Sonoma County Library)

Farmers hauled wagonloads of their spuds into Petaluma via Potato Street (renamed Prospect Street in the 1860s), storing them at the warehouse until they could be loaded onto “potato boats” bound for the city. Each planted acre of potatoes generated $1,200 annually ($37,000 in today’s currency). For disappointed Argonauts like Wharff, those seemed like better odds than panning for gold.

After disembarking in Petaluma, Wharff and his friend stayed overnight at the American Hotel on Main Street (site of today’s Putnam Plaza). The hotel’s proprietor, George Williams, a Forty-Niner from Maine and the father-in-law of future Petaluma grain merchant John McNear, also operated a freight service with a wagon and three oxen. In the morning, for $10 ($300 in today’s currency), he hauled the wall tent and lumber out to the new farm six miles north of town.

Illustration of the American Hotel and Wells Fargo Express office, Main Street, Petaluma, 1850s (photo Sonoma County Library)

At the time, there were only two other settlers on the 16-mile stretch between Petaluma and Santa Rosa, Tom Hopper and Almer Clark. Hopper would go on to become one of the wealthiest landowners in the county, and Clark would soon open a popular stagecoach stop, the Valley House along Petaluma Hill Road. Along the way, Williams pointed out to Wharff 160 acres of land for sale in what is today downtown Penngrove.

“I thought I had hit a gold mine,” Wharff wrote.

After helping his friend construct the wall tent, Wharff hurried back to Petaluma to purchase his new farm before sailing back to San Francisco to share the news with Olive, who, during his absence, had given birth on March 31st to a baby daughter, Mary.

David and Olive Wharff (photos courtesy of Lee Torliatt)

Anxious to get his potato crop in, Wharff sailed back to Petaluma with lumber and a wall tent, as well as six dozen laying hens he purchased from a Frenchman in the Presidio for $225 ($7,100 in today’s currency).

George Williams hauled everything out to the new farm, where Wharff built a chicken coop directly onto the tent, to protect his valuable hens from preying coyotes. Returning to San Francisco for Olive and Mary, he once again hired Williams to transport them and their worldly possessions to the farm. As the made their way through the deserted valley, Olive nervously asked where exactly they were going.

“Home,” Wharff said.

After setting up Olive and the baby in the tent, Wharff traveled to Tomales, then a booming shipping port, where he purchased two tons of seed potatoes from Henry McCleave for $400 ($12,000 in today’s currency). That summer, while waiting for the potato crop to come in, the Wharffs made money by selling their eggs in town for $1.50 a dozen ($47 in today’s currency), becoming the first poultry producers in the area.

Illustration of Tomales, 1850s, by Richard Shell (photo Sonoma County Library)

What Olive made of life on the farm, her husband didn’t say, except to note there were only three other women living in Petaluma at the time, and that Olive went for six months without seeing the face of another white woman.

In September 1853, a month before the fall potato harvest, one of Wharff’s neighbors, upset his potato patch was being trampled by grazing cattle from the nearby ranch of Tom Hopper, set fire to the dry grasses on his property. As the wind came up, the fire quickly extended across the valley, and by evening had burned over to the top of Sonoma Mountain. Having earlier cleared the grasses and wild oats from around his tent home and potato patch, Wharff was spared any damage.

The following month, he harvested his potatoes, bagging them in sacks he purchased for $16 per 100, and hauled them to Petaluma’s potato warehouse, to eventually be loaded aboard “potato boats” bound for San Francisco. Unfortunately, the potato buyer at the warehouse had bad news—the market had crashed due to an overabundance of spuds that fall. He advised him to store his 20 tons of potatoes at the warehouse for $200 ($6,300 in today’s currency) until early spring, when prices would hopefully rebound.

By February, as it became clear that the boom was over, a victim of overplanting, soil erosion, and increased competition, the manager of the warehouse asked Wharff to remove his potatoes which were beginning to sprout. Wharff told him to move them himself, which he did, dumping them in the Petaluma Creek.

Disappointed, Wharff sold his ranch for $200 to a man named Brad Baily, and sailed with his family back to San Francisco, where he built a new house on the corner of Pacific and Leavenworth streets.

San Francisco’s Montgomery Street, 1850 (photo in the public domain)

After less than a year in the city however, Wharff was lured back to Sonoma County by the idea of starting a cattle ranch with his new brother-in-law Frank Green. A former neighbor told him 160 acres were for sale adjacent to Wharff’s former potato farm. Wharff paid the owner, Tet Carpenter, $200 for the property, which came with a small two-room house.

Back in San Francisco, he purchased twelve head of cattle from a rancher near the Mission Dolores for $480 ($14,000 in today’s currency), herding them aboard a new steamer Charles Minturn, the Ferryboat King of San Francisco Bay, had recently installed on the Petaluma Creek to Haystack Landing just south of Petaluma.

Ferryboat King Charles Minturn standing in front of his paddle steamer, E.Corning, on San Francisco docks, early 1850s (photo Sonoma County Library)

Wharff wrote he thought the ranch land was in the public domain, allowing him and Green to purchase it without a deed. That belief was rooted in the Preemption Act of 1841, which allowed settlers to purchase from the federal government up to 160 acres of any land in the public domain, assuming they had either lived on it for at least 14 months or made improvements to it for five years. In either case, it wasn’t necessary for a settler to hold actual title to the land while establishing homesteading rights.

California, however, presented a problem for aspiring homesteaders, as most of the desirable farming land was held in Mexican land grants, ownership of which was legally protected by the Treaty of Guadalupe Hidalgo of 1848 that ended the Mexican-American War. For squatters like Wharff and Green, that would soon become a rude awakening.

The average Mexican land grant measured 17,000 acres. Owners with clear title, like General Mariano Vallejo, whose 66,000-acre grant extended from the east side of the Petaluma Creek all the way to the town of Sonoma, spent the 1850s selling off parcels of their land holdings to newly arriving American settlers. But a number of the land grant had changed hands so many times since the Mexican-American war that their legal trails were cloudy, with competing or even fraudulent claims.

Map of Marin and Southern Sonoma Land Grants, 1860 (excerpted from Map of the Country 40 Miles Around San Francisco by Lelander Ransom, courtesy of BLR Antique Maps)

In response, California created a land commission to review the legal status of the state’s 813 land grants. The reviews, which ran from 1852 until 1856, ultimately confirmed 514 of the 813 claims filed. Almost all of land commission’s decisions were appealed in the courts, creating a bureaucratic quagmire that added to the uncertainty and confusion of grant ownership, opening the door to speculators and land sharks.

Prospective settlers were faced with two choices: either purchase land from a claimant whose claim might be challenged and reversed by the land commission or courts in years to come, or else squat on the land illegally, hoping the land commission would eventually void the claim, placing the land in the public domain for purchase under the Preemption Act.

The extent to which Wharff and Green made this “pre-empt” squatter’s gamble is unknown. Although their land purchase was not recorded with the county, tax records indicate that in 1855 they paid state and county property taxes. By that time, the land commission had already ruled on the claim of the Rancho Cotate land grant they were squatting on.

Totaling 17,000 acres, Rancho Cotate had been originally granted in 1844 to Captain Juan Castenada, a secretary of Mariano Vallejo. At the outbreak of the Mexican-American War in 1846, Castenada sold the grant to Thomas Larkin, the U.S. Consul to Mexico’s Alta California. In 1849, Larkin sold it to an American trader, Joseph S. Ruckle, who held it for only two months before selling it to Dr. Thomas S. Page, an expatriate American physician practicing in Valparaiso, Chile.

Map of Rancho Cotate and adjacent land grants, 1877 (from Thos. Thompson’s Historical Atlas of Sonoma County)

Page remained in Chile after the purchase, making him an absentee landlord and subjecting his land grant, which would one day encompass Cotati, Rohnert Park and Penngrove, to illegal squatters, including Wharff and Green. In 1852, he filed his claim with the new land commission. The claim was approved in August 1854, around the same time Wharff and Green purchased their land from the squatter Carpenter. As with most land grants, the land commission’s ruling was immediately appealed, leaving the land in legal limbo until the courts dismissed the appeal in March, 1857.

As one last formality, a survey of the land was scheduled to be undertaken in August 1857 before Dr. Page could assert his claim. What happened next illustrates the gambling mentality of former gold miners at the time.

Before the surveyors arrived, Wharff and Green sold their 160 acres to a man for $500 ($14,000 in today’s currency) and squatted on an adjacent 161-acre parcel. Whether or not they were looking to make a quick profit is unknown.

Dr. Thomas S. Page, Cotati, 1870 (photo Sonoma County Library)

In February 1858, after a patent was issued to Dr. Page, giving him clear and legal title to Rancho Cotate, he began immediately selling off 160-acre parcels to settlers, beginning with the squatters already in place. The settler who purchased the Wharff and Green ranch the year before for $500 paid Page $1,800 ($50,000 in today’s currency) to obtain legal deed to the property, bringing his total outlay for the land to $2,300 ($70,000 in today’s currency).

Wharff and Green purchased the 161 acres they had recently squatted on from Page for $1,610 ($45,000 in today’s currency). A short while later, they also bought back their former ranch from the man they sold it to, paying him $2,500 ($75,000 in today’s currency).

1858 Land Sale by Thomas S. Page to David Wharff (Sonoma County Deed Records, LDS Family Search Database)

The escalating land values had to do with a flood of new settlers to the area in the late 1850s. By 1860, Sonoma County had 12,000 residents, most of them farmers, living on 756 farms, with more than 200,000 acres under cultivation. The primary driver of that expansion was the California wheat boom.

Wheat schooner sailing down the Petlauma River (photo Sonoma County Library)

After the Crimean War cut off Russian wheat exports in the 1850s, Australia and New Zealand turned to California for wheat supplies, setting off a minor boom. The boom went into overdrive in the 1860s, following the disruption of Midwest wheat exports to Europe during the Civil War. By 1867, 80 percent of the wheat grown in Sonoma County was being shipped around the Horn to Europe’s central grain market in Liverpool, England, making Petaluma not only a thriving river town, but also an international shipping port.

In addition to riding the wheat boom, on their two ranches Wharf and Green also raised barley and oats, and annually produced 600 pounds of butter, 100 tons of hay, 400 pounds of honey, along with poultry and cattle. A tobacco chewer, Wharff was known for nailing the lids of his Star Tobacco tins to his barn, which was covered in them.

In 1871, Mary Jane and Frank Green decided to move to San Francisco. Wharff and Green sold the 161-acre ranch they had been living on, the one they purchased together directly from Page, to James and Lydia Goodwin, owners of a furniture store in San Francisco, who operated it as a second residence. They retained their original ranch, which was located along Old Redwood Highway near where the Green Mill Inn was erected in 1932.

1877 map of Penn’s Grove, Wharff and Goodwin ranches upper left (map from Thos. Thompson’s Historical Atlas of Sonoma County)

In the mid-1870s, the California wheat market began to decline due to an international recession and increasing competition from the Midwest. Like many of his neighbors, Wharff shifted to planting apples and grapes as part of a new fruit boom.

Olive and David Wharff, circa 1910 (photos courtesy of Penngrove Proud)

After the restless Argonaut odyssey of his twenties, Wharff ultimately found his golden fleece in Penngrove, settling with Olive for 55 years on the same ranch, where they raised seven children. Only three of whom survived beyond childhood, the others falling victim to diphtheria and scarlet fever. They were surrounded by family, as two of Olive’s brothers, George and John Densmore from Nova Scotia, joined them to settle in the area, and Mary and Frank Green eventually moved back to Penngrove in 1893, as the area began to experience a new egg boom, filling the countryside with chicken houses.

Wharff house built circa 1858 on ranch sold to the Goodwins in 1871. The house was moved in 1902 from where it had resided at 2368 Goodwin Avenue, to 1291 Elysian Road in Penngrove, where it sits today (photo courtesy of Chuck Lucas)

In 1905, the Wharffs leased their ranch and farmhouse to a neighbor, Antone Ronsheimer, who with his half-brother John Formschlag had purchased in 1865 the farm in downtown Penngrove where Wharff first grew potatoes in 1853. The Wharffs built a small cottage on the ranch for themselves and lived there until 1909, when they left Penngrove to live with their daughter Belinda Hoadley in San Francisco’s Mission District. Olive died there in 1913 at age 85, and David in 1918 at age 89.

By that time, swaggering, opportunistic Argonauts like Wharff had been recast in local lore as Pioneers, a little flamboyant perhaps, but always purposeful in channeling the wild exploitations of the Gold Rush into building California. Wharff’s daughter Belinda maintained that her father was not the adventurous, “harum scarum” type of Argonaut, but a quiet family man of tenacious courage, whose feet, like thousands of others who tilled the land, were firmly placed on the soil.

She clearly hadn’t seen him in his youth.

*****

Thanks to Lee Torliatt, Chuck Lucas, Katherine Rinehart, and Rich Wharff for their research assistance.

SOURCES:

Newspapers & Magazines

Petaluma Argus: “Personal and Social,” May 5, 1883; “A Bit of Penngrove History,” November 28, 1901; “Has Read the Argus for Over Fifty Years,” March 31, 1906; “The Death of Mrs. F. B. Green,” February 5, 1909; “Celebrated 57th Wedding Anniversary,” February 20, 1909; “Celebrate Sixtieth Anniversary of Their Marriage Tuesday,” February 20, 1912; “David Wharff Passes Away,” September 16, 1918.

Petaluma Courier: “Their Golden Anniversary,” February 20, 1902; “Celebrate Anniversary,” February 18, 1909; “Ancient Land History,” November 30, 1912; “Mrs. O. Wharff Enters Rest,” April 20, 1913; “Frank B. Green, Penngrove Pioneer, Found Dead in Kitchen at Country Home,” November 9, 1913.

Sacramento Bee: Harry P. Bagley, “From Sedate Boston to the Wild Gold Country of California,” September 12, 1942.

Sacramento Daily Union: “From the South (Page’s deed),” October 4, 1852.

Santa Rosa Press Democrat: “A Pioneer Woman of Petaluma Dead,” April 20, 1913.

Scientific American, “Agriculture in California,” November 27, 1852 (price of potatoes). https://www.scientificamerican.com/article/agriculture-in-california/

Sonoma Democrat: “Patents Received in Sonoma (Page grant),” April 1, 1858.

Books, Journals, Websites, Other

Paul Bailey, Sam Brannan and the California Mormons (Los Angeles: Westernlore Press, 1943), p. 124.

Christopher Warren Haskins, The Argonauts of California, Being the Reminiscences of Scenes and Incidents that Occurred in California in Early Mining Days (New York: Fords, Howard & Hulbert, 1890) p. 462.

Adair Heig, History of Petaluma: A California River Town (Petaluma, CA: Scottwall Associates, 1982).

Katherine Johnson, “West Penngrove Historical Resources Survey,” Master of Arts Thesis, Sonoma State University, 1994. https://scholarworks.calstate.edu/downloads/g445cg87h?locale=en

John Haskell Kemble, “The Gold Rush by Panama, 1848-1851,” Pacific Historical Review, Vol. 18, No. 1, Rushing for Gold (University of California Press, February, 1949), pp. 45-56.

“Central America: Nicaragua,” The Maritime Heritage Project. https://www.maritimeheritage.org/ports/centralAmericaNicaragua.html

J.P. Munro-Fraser, “George B. Williams,” History of Sonoma County (Alley, Bowen & Co., 1880), pp. 604-605.

Thor Severson, Sacramento: An Illustrated History, 1839 to 1874 (California Historical Society, 1973).

Kevin Starr, Americans and the California Dream 1850-1913 (Oxford University Press USA, 1973), pp. 49-68.

Robert A. Thompson, Historical and Descriptive Sketch Of Sonoma County, California (Philadelphia: L.H. Everts & Co., 1877), pgs. 18, 24, 55.

Lee Torliatt, Golden Memories of the Redwood Empire (Chicago: Arcadia Publishing, 2002) pp. 18-20.

David Wharff letter to William Farrell, dated April 10, 1914. From personal collection of Richard Wharff.

David Wharff letter to A.P. Behrens, dated April 26, 1918. From personal collection of Lee Torliatt.

Rich Warff, “David Wharff,” Portraits of Early Sonoma County Settlers (Sonoma County Genealogical Society, 2016) pp. 115-122.

Luzena Stanley Wilson, 49er: Her Memoirs as Taken Down by Her Daughter in 1881 (Mills College, Calif., Eucalyptus Press, 1937). www.digitalhistory.uh.edu.