In the fall of 1961, I gathered with a group of other kids across the street from Petaluma’s Carnegie Library, to watch a man standing atop a long ladder extending up from a fire truck. He was knocking seed cones the size of pineapples from the Bunya-Bunya tree outside the library. In a normal year the tree generated only a handful of cones. That year it produced 50.[1]
A few months later, Elizabeth Burbank had the 100-foot Bunya-Bunya beside her house cut down. She had grown tired of its cones crashing through the roof, breaking telephone lines and threatening visitors.[2] Her late husband, Santa Rosa horticulturist Luther Burbank, planted the tree in the 1880s, when wealthy estate owners came to his nursery shopping for exotic trees to showcase in their gardens.
A majestic, dome-topped evergreen conifer from Australia, the Bunya-Bunya, or Araucaria bidwillii, fit the bill. The tree was a living fossil, its roots extending back to the Jurassic era. Along with its genetic cousin, the Monkey Puzzle Tree, the Bunya-Bunya became all the rage among Victorian tree connoisseurs, including Addie Atwater, wife of a Petaluma banker.[3]
Atwater planted a Bunya-Bunya in front of her house on the northwest corner of Fourth and E streets, across from Walnut Park, where it still stands today. An early advocate of city beautification, in 1896 she and Petaluma journalist Rena Shattuck co-founded the Petaluma Ladies Improvement Club.
The club’s initial impetus was cleaning up Petaluma’s two public parks—Walnut Park and Hill Plaza Park (today’s Penry Park)—which were being used at the time for trash and livestock grazing. After transforming them into inviting public spaces, the club ventured forth as “municipal housekeepers” in planting trees and installing walking sidewalks throughout town.[4]
In 1904, Atwater, then a wealthy widow, sold a deeply discounted parcel of land at Fourth and B streets to the city for the new Carnegie Library.[5] The Ladies Improvement Club assumed responsibility for landscaping the grounds. In the winter of 1906, they solicited local nurseryman William Stratton, known as California’s “Eucalyptus King” for his early cultivation of the eucalyptus tree from Australia, to donate 11 ornamental trees to their library plantings, one of which is believed to have been the Bunya-Bunya.[6]
The long-term manifestations of the Bunya-Bunya were relatively unknown to the Victorians. Mature trees grow to between 100 and 150 feet tall, with trunks measuring as much as five feet wide. Its timber is highly valued as “tonewood” in making musical stringed instruments such as guitars and ukuleles.
It takes up to 14 years before the trees begin to generate seed cones weighing between 10 and 20 pounds, each of which contains between 50 and 100 edible nuts ranging up to 2 1/2 inches long.[7]Aboriginal peoples relied upon them for sustenance, eating them raw or roasted, or else storing them underground in wet mud, which is believed to have improved the flavor as well as extended their shelf life.
Europeans found their flavor similar to chestnuts. They liked to boil them with their corned beef. Boiling remains a favorite means of preparing them today, for use in stews, salads or stir-fried dishes.[8]
But not everyone is a fan of the Bunya Bunya. That became clear in 1977, when the city of Petaluma opened a new public library on East Washington Street, and converted the former library into the Petaluma Historical Library and Museum.
The architect in charge of the conversion flagged the 80-foot tall Bunya Bunya for removal, noting the severe drought that year had caused it to precariously lean forward. Bunya-Bunya critics agreed, citing not only the inherent danger of its diving bomb cones, but the sharp, serrated leaves of its shedded branches, which made for formidable weapons in the hands of children playing war.
After tree-lovers rallied in protest, the city conducted a thorough arboreal examination of the tree, finding it to be healthier than assumed, and sparing it from the axe.[9]
In 1991, Ross Parkerson, a board member of the Petaluma Historical Museum Association and a former city planner, led a group of fellow tree advocates in convincing the Petaluma city council to protect the city’s oldest trees by passing the Heritage Tree Ordinance. The museum’s Bunya-Bunya was among the first to fall under its protection, along with the large oak and giant Sequoia behind the museum.[10]
The next year, the city created a Tree Advisory Committee, appointing Parkerson as its founding chairman. Thirty years later, it continues to consult with the city on tree management and preservation.[11]
While I could find no record of anyone having ever been clobbered by a falling seed cone from the museum’s Bunya-Bunya, since that day in 1961, when as a young boy I witnessed the tree’s big cones being knocked to the ground, I always look up when I pass the museum. It’s partly out of respect for the 116-year-old heritage tree, and partly out of personal caution.
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A version of this article appears in the Fall/Winter 2022 newsletter of the Petaluma Museum Association.
FOOTNOTES:
[1] “Real Monkey Would Have Helped,” Petaluma Argus-Courier, September 23, 1961.
[2] “Burbank ‘Monkey’ Tree Coming Down,” Santa Rosa Press Democrat, November 6, 1961.
[3] “The Trees in California’s Cityscapes,” California Garden and Landscape History Society, Vol. 16, No. 2, Spring 2013; “August Tree of the Month: Bunya Bunya,” edhat, Santa Barbara.
[4] “The Splendid Work of the Ladies Improvement Club,” Petaluma Argus, June 11, 1907.
[5] “Carnegie Library Cornerstone Laid,” Petaluma Argus, June 10, 1904.
[6] “Ladies Improvement Club,” Petaluma Courier, December 30, 1905; “Improvement Club Meeting,” Petaluma Courier, October 3, 1906; “Made Donation of Trees,” Petaluma Courier, March 16, 1907; “W.A.T. Stratton’s Book on the Eucalyptus,” Petaluma Argus, November 15, 1907.
[7] Alistair Watt, “Tree of the Year: Araucaria bidwillii,” International Dendrology Society, 2018.
[8] The Bunya-Bunya Pine (Araucaria bidwillii),” Permaculture News, November 27, 2013; Ian Wright, “Bunya Pines are Ancient, Delicious, and Possibly Deadly,” The Conversation, https://theconversation.com/bunya-pines-are-ancient-delicious-and-possibly-deadly-96003
[9] “Monkey Puzzle Tree Wins Life,” Petaluma Argus-Courier, September 7, 1978.
[10] “Three Trees Look to be First Protected Under Heritage Law,” Petaluma Argus-Courier, September 25, 1991; “E. Ross Parkerson: Artist, Planner,” Petaluma Argus-Courier, December 18, 1991; “City Tree Panel in Full Bloom,” Petaluma Argus-Courier, February 7, 1992; “The Group Offers Neighborhoods Re-Leaf,” Petaluma Argus-Courier, August 24, 1993.
[11] “City Tree Panel in Full Bloom,” Petaluma Argus-Courier, February 7, 1992; “The Group Offers Neighborhoods Re-Leaf,” Petaluma Argus-Courier, August 24, 1993.
One June day in 1887, while delivering a wagonload of fresh strawberries to merchants along Petaluma’s Main Street, Frank Roberts ran into a neighbor from Sonoma Mountain, “French Louie” Marion, who was also delivering strawberries. The two got into a heated argument that ended when Roberts grabbed a handheld plowshare and whacked French Louie across the head with it, inflicting a large, bloody gash.
Arrested for assault and battery, Roberts was tried in court twice, with both cases ending in a hung jury. Although Petaluma had grown by the 1880s to a town of more than 3,000, a spirit of frontier justice still prevailed, with people often left to settle scores on their own.
And settle them they did, especially on Sonoma Mountain, where, in addition to physically accosting each other, neighbors were often in court, battling each other over deeds, property boundaries, water rights, livestock, and trespassing. But strawberries?
First introduced to Sonoma County in the 1850s, strawberry cultivation thrived in Petaluma’s Mediterranean climate. Farmers looking to get a premium price for their berries—25 cents per pound in 1887 ($7 in today’s currency)—relied upon branding, especially in June, when a number of local churches and temperance organizations held annual strawberry festivals, serving up berries and ice cream.
The town’s main influencers were the two newspapers, the Argus and the Courier, whose editors were plied with free baskets of berries by growers looking to have theirs declared the largest, reddest, and most delicious of the season.
The honor, previously held by Roberts, was bestowed upon French Louie in June 1887.
One of only a handful of French immigrants on the west slope of Sonoma Mountain—most early French immigrants settled in either Sonoma Valley or Healdsburg, many of them operating hotels and resorts—French Louie left his native Normandy while still a teenager in the early 1870s, fleeing like many other French immigrants the outbreak of the Franco-Prussian War. Working on a ship bound for America, he befriended a young shipmate named Peter Torliatt who was either escaping the French military draft or running away from his village near the Italian border after being caught throwing rocks at a priest.
Once their steamer docked in San Francisco, the two young men jumped ship, and eventually made their way to Penngrove, where they were hired by Ned McDermott to work on his ranch along Lichau Road atop Sonoma Mountain. Like many of the mountain’s early settlers, McDermott was Irish, Sonoma County’s first large immigrant group.
Evart Produce Company on Penngrove’s Main Street, 1902 (photo courtesy of Sonoma County Library)
The Irish were drawn to the mountain by its springs, which provided year-round irrigation, as well as the notion that wheat—California’s first major boom crop in the mid-1800s—would grow better on the mountain’s rolling slopes than on the valley floor below.
In 1882, French Louie married McDermott’s only child, 20-year-old Minnie McDermott. Four years later, not long before French Louie’s brutal encounter with Frank Roberts, Minnie died in childbirth. By that time, both French Louie and Torliatt were leasing their own ranches along Lichau Road on the mountain. With the wheat boom having gone bust by the 1880s, the two men, like most Petaluma ranchers, turned to dairy ranching, supplementing their income with eggs from pastoral chickens and market vegetables and fruits, including strawberries.
1890s dairy ranch outside of Petaluma (photo courtesy of Sonoma County Library)
The attraction of cultivating strawberries was that, unlike grain crops, which were planted and harvested only once a year, strawberries reproduced steadily through spring and summer, providing the highest income per acre of any crop in the area. In 1887, an acre of strawberry plants yielded $400 in annual income ($11,500 in today’s currency).
For growers on Sonoma Mountain the yields were even better. Thanks to the mountain’s year-round springs and freedom from the frosts that plagued the valley floor, they were able to reap a second season, harvesting strawberries in time for Thanksgiving and Christmas.
Losing his crown as the mountain’s strawberry wizard, was no small thing apparently for a wealthy rancher like Frank Roberts. Born to early Santa Rosa settlers, Roberts married Mary Hopper, the youngest daughter of one of Sonoma Mountain’s largest landowners, Tom Hopper.
Tom Hopper (photo courtesy of Sonoma County Library)
Having come to California from Missouri in 1847, Hopper found success in the mines during the gold rush before settling in 1852 on Sonoma Mountain, where he eventually expanded his ranch to 2,360 acres.
In September of 1853, a neighbor of Hopper, looking to keep Hopper’s cattle out of his potato fields, touched off a fire to burn the grasslands on his ranch. The wild oats in the field, which stood six feet tall and were dry as timber in early fall, blazed furiously. By evening time, the fire had burned over the top of Sonoma Mountain, inflicting heavy losses on several neighbors.
Thanks to further real estate investments, Hopper went on to become one of the wealthiest men in the county. After becoming president of the Santa Rosa Bank in 1878, he moved to Santa Rosa, dividing his Sonoma Mountain ranch between his daughters Eliza and Mary.
Eliza married Isaac Fountain “Fount” Cook, who came to the area from Indiana as a child with his parents in 1854. The Cook Ranch sat halfway up the mountain along Lichau Road. Mary married Frank Roberts. Their Roberts Ranch, which included a lucrative rock quarry as well as a strawberry patch, extended from Petaluma Hill at Roberts Road up the mountainside to the Cook Ranch.
View of the former Cook Ranch along Lichau Road atop Sonoma Mountain (photo public domain)
After French Louie recovered from Roberts’ head bashing, he sent for his sister Pauline back in France. To his surprise, Adrienne, his other sister, showed up, having intercepted the money he sent Pauline for ship passage. After being in the country for only two months, she married Peter Torliatt, French Louie’s neighbor. It would be a troubled relationship.
Peter Torliatt (photo courtesy of Lee Torliatt)
In 1889, French Louie married the daughter of another of his Irish neighbors, 19-year-old Nellie Crilly. Nellie’s parents, Ellen and Nicholas Crilly, had established a ranch near the top of Lichau Road in the late 1860s. Like other settlers, they endured a number of bitter disputes with neighbors on the mountain. In 1872, while involved in a lawsuit filed by their neighbor James O’Phelan, the Crillys took a family trip to San Francisco. While they were away, someone burned down their house.
Six months later, Ellen Crilly took out her revenge on O’Phelan in an encounter recounted in the Petaluma Argus:
“There was considerable excitement created on the Sonoma Mountains one day last week, growing out of a dispute on boundaries of the lands of James O’Phelan and Nicholas Crilly. Crilly, it seems, ran a fence through the premises of the neighbor O’Phelan, who after taking counsel in the matter, determined to tear [the] same down.
He was in the act of removing the fence, assisted by a hired man, when Mrs. Crilly appeared from a buckeye bush and with a handful of rocks and the “sprig of shelalah,” commenced a vigorous warfare. One rock struck the hired man on the head, inflicting an ugly scalp wound, which rendered him “hors de combat.” She then directed her attack against O’Phelan, and administered a severe blow upon his “cronk” with her stick. This let [sent] him out and left the woman in possession of the field.
A warrant was sworn out for her arrest, and Deputy Sheriff Hedges was two days scouring the hills in search of the combative Amazon. It appears that after her splendid feat at arms she became frightened and took to the brush, and up to date the place of her retreat remains a mystery.”
In 1881, Nicholas Crilly died unexpectedly, leaving Ellen a widow with ten children to run the dairy. Shortly after French Louie married her daughter Nellie, Ellen was pulled into a new violent dispute on the mountain with a neighbor named Puckett.
An unidentified rancher and his wife heading into Penngrove by buckboard, circa 1900 (photo courtesy of Sonoma County Library)
A teetotaler with strongly held opinions, Edward Puckett settled on the mountain in 1854 after coming across the plains from Missouri. In addition to operating a 186-acre dairy, he was known for growing some of the best apples and Picholine olives for making olive oil in the area. In 1867, he married Mary Meany, a Petaluma schoolteacher and poet, originally from Ireland. The couple had one son, Alfred, an inspiring writer, who, under his mother’s tutelage, became known at a young age as the “poet of Sonoma Mountain.”
In 1872, Puckett had provided an easement across his property for Lichau Road, named after one of the mountain’s earliest settlers. Puckett however reserved the right to maintain two gates on the road in order to keep his cows from wandering off the ranch. Neighbors living further up the road—the Crillys, Todds, Jordans, and Duersons—complained to the county for years about the nuisance of Puckett’s gates on a public thoroughfare. Puckett, in turn, offered to take them down if the neighbors would build a wooden fence on his property along both sides of the road.
1898 map of Todd and Puckett ranches (circled) along Lichau Road (map courtesy of Sonoma County Library)
The dispute was still going on in 1890, when James M. Todd, who owned an adjacent ranch, entered Puckett’s farm one evening to retrieve a stray calf that had wandered through a break in the fence. Todd claimed the break had been created by Puckett’s hogs. He brought with him three young stepsons—Willy, Melvin, and Adelbert Cook—and one of Ellen Crilly’s sons, 16-year-old John.
They were met on the property by Puckett and his 21-year-old poet son Alfred. After exchange of some “rough language,” Todd and Puckett began to brawl.
Willy Cook, 19, pulled out a revolver and fired a shot at Puckett, barely missing his head. Puckett’s son Alfred attempted to wrestle the gun away from Willy, while Todd and the other young men ganged up on the elder Puckett. During the tussle with Alfred, Willy fired the gun three times, hitting Alfred in the shoulder and abdomen. While he lay bleeding, John Crilly egged on Willy to shoot Puckett as well. Fortunately for Puckett, Willy’s gun was out of bullets.
Charged with attempted murder, Willy Cook pleaded self-defense and was acquitted in a jury trial. Alfred Puckett eventually recovered from his wounds and went on to become a noted local historian.
In 1894, Frank Roberts made a small fortune when the Southern Pacific Railroad announced they were purchasing the entire inventory of his rock quarry, along with the quarries of four of his neighbors, amounting to 350,000 basalt blocks, to pave the streets of San Francisco’s Potrero District.
The former Roberts Ranch along Petaluma Hill and Roberts roads (photo courtesy of Scott Hess)
The deal made Roberts one of the wealthiest men in the county. That however didn’t stop him from battling with a neighbor over a $57 bill for a broken water pipe.
Water rights on them mountain were even more precious than land. In the early 1870s, three of the mountain’s large landowners—Tom Hopper, William Hill, and Henry Hardin—secured water rights to the springs that fed Copeland and Lynch creeks. Forming the Sonoma County Water Company, they piped the water, along with water from Adobe Creek, into Petaluma, serving as the town’s main water source. In exchange for running their pipes across the ranches on the mountain, they provided ranchers with access to the water as well as stock in the company.
The water pipe running across Robert Forsyth’s ranch developed a leak that spilled out onto the adjacent Roberts Ranch. Roberts had the leak repaired, sending the $57 bill to Forsyth, who refused to pay it. Roberts responded by suing Forsyth, making it clear that the money was immaterial, it was the principle that mattered.
Frustrated with the slow pace the lawsuit was taking in the courts, Roberts resorted to fisticuffs, not once but twice. In the first encounter, he wielded a cane at Forsyth, who fought him off with a knife. In the second showdown, Roberts wielded an axe, while Forsyth fought him off with a club. Each man filed charges of assault and battery against the other, all of which were eventually dropped, along with Roberts’ lawsuit for the $57.
Contemporary strawberry farm on Stony Point Road (photo courtesy of Stony Point Strawberry Farm)
By the 1890s, the strawberry competition between Roberts and French Louie had been put to rest by Peter Torliatt, who had ascended to being the area’s strawberry wizard. Torliatt was leasing the 518 acres that remained of the Cook Ranch after Eliza Cook and her husband moved to Santa Rosa. In addition to operating a dairy on the ranch, he maintained a 2-acre strawberry patch.
But Torliatt had domestic problems. In 1898, Adrienne filed for divorce and custody of their four children, before reconciling with her husband.
Peter and Adrienne Torliatt with two of their four children, Marie and Teresa, 1890s (photo courtesy of Lee Torliatt)
A year later however, the couple fell into a raging fight. Two of their children, fearing for their mother’s safety, ran to the adjacent ranch of David Horne for help. Horne, a Scotsman who had been feuding with Torliatt over water rights, went to the Torliatt house with another neighbor, William Duerson.
As they approached the house, a shot rang out. They loudly announced their presence, after which another shot whizzed by their heads. Retreating, they contacted the sheriff, who traveled up tp the mountain to arrest Torliatt for assault with a deadly weapon.
At his court trial, Torliatt maintained that he had been shooting at an owl in a tree that had been disturbing his chickens, and that he wasn’t aware of the presence of Horne and Duerson by the ranch house. As evidence, he introduced a dead owl to the court, the body still suspiciously warm a week after the incident. The case was eventually dropped.
In August of 1900, Adrienne Torliatt once again filed for divorce. That same month, Torliatt received an eviction notice from Eliza Cook, exercising a clause in the lease that allowed her to sell the ranch at any time, assuming it was after the annual harvest. Cook sold the ranch that month to L.L. Cannon, a breeder of champion racehorses, but Torliatt refused to vacate, maintaining that his second strawberry harvest wouldn’t be over until after Christmas.
Cook took Torliatt to court, where a number of experts were called in, including horticulturalist Luther Burbank, to testify on the nature of strawberry cultivation, particularly in regard to the second season on Sonoma Mountain. The judged ultimately ruled in Torliatt’s favor.
Horticulturalist Luther Burbank, 1901 (photo courtesy of book “The World’s Work,” archive.com)
The next spring, Torliatt purchased a 30-acre ranch on Ely Road east of Petaluma, where he relocated his famed strawberry plants. By the early 1900s, he was earning $5,000 a year ($144,000 today) from three acres of what many considered the finest strawberry patch in the county.
Adrienne, who had dropped her second divorce suit, would file for divorce three more times, citing cruelty as the reason. She eventually separated from her husband and moved into Petaluma with her two daughters, while the couple’s two sons remained with their father on the ranch. The courts denied her divorce suit each time, noting that both parties were in acting in bad faith as the fight was really over dividing up their community property. They remained in a standoff until Torliatt’s death in 1916.
French Louie continued to grow strawberries on Sonoma Mountain until 1911, when he and Nellie decided to move into town due to his declining health. French Louie had just finished moving their furniture into their newly rented house at 23 Post Street, when he died. He was 57.
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Full disclosure: the author John Sheehy’s Irish great-grandparents settled on Sonoma Mountain in 1863, although thankfully not along Lichau Road, but instead at the bottom of the range outside Lakeville.
SOURCES:
Newspapers
Petaluma Argus: “Strawberries and Cream,” May 17, 1866; “Dwelling Burned,” January 27, 1872; “War on the Sonoma Mountains,” June 1, 1872; “The Festival Last Evening,” May 2, 1873 “Died: Nicholas Crilly,” May 27, 1881; “Notice: Frank G. Roberts to Mary E. Roberts,” August 12, 1881; “That Mountain Nuisance,” October 4, 1884; “Fine Apples,” December 5, 1885; “Strawberries,” April 16, 1887; “Strawberries for Christmas,” December 10, 1887; “Brevities,” April 11, 1899; “Roberts Brings Suit Against Forsyth,” February 20, 1905; “Delicious Strawberries for Easter,” April 14, 1906; “First of the Season,” February 27, 1908; “Denied Divorce,” November 20, 1908; “Third Case is Dismissed,” October 10, 1911; “Strawberries in the Market,” April 13, 1912; “Finest Strawberries on Christmas Day,” December 8, 1912; “Sudden Death of A.J. Puckett,” March 9, 1926.
Petaluma Argus-Courier: Emily H. Kelsey, “Pioneers Bought Vallejo’s Land,” August 17, 1955.
Petaluma Courier: “A Mountain Nuisance,” October 1, 1884; “Courierlets: Roberts and Marion,” July 27, 1887; “Courierlets: Marion,” February 1, 1888; “Petaluma Entire Paving Block Supply Purchased,” September 26, 1894; “Strawberry Culture,” May 27, 1896; “Courierlets: Puckett,” December 7, 1898; “A Penngrove Suit: Horne,” March 30, 1900; “A Letter from Penngrove Way,” August 8, 1900; “Petaluma Case Tried Wednesday,” November 16, 1900; “Peter Torliatt Gets the Decision,” November 22, 1900; “Mary Catherine Puckett,” Courier, July 2, 1901; “Frank Roberts Assaulted,” December 17, 1904; “Another Pioneer Passes: Puckett,” September 11, 1907; “Pioneer of Olden Days Called: McDermott,” October 13, 1909; “Pioneer of Petaluma Dead: Ellen Crilly,” March 29, 1911; “I.F. Cook is Summoned at Santa Rosa,” February 11, 1917; “Contested to Be Filed in Cook Will,” February 28, 1917.
Sacramento Bee: “From Sedate Boston to the Wild Gold Country of California (Wharff profile),” September 12, 1942.
Santa Rosa Press Democrat: “Torliatt Held to Answer,” February 10, 1899; “He Shot at an Owl,” February 11, 1899; Gaye LeBaron, “French Among the Important Early Immigrants,” November 7, 1993.
Sonoma County Journal: Ad for strawberry vines, January 19, 1856; “Strawberries,” May 27, 1859.
Sonoma Democrat: “Another Tragedy: Alfred Puckett is Shot on Sonoma Mountain,” December 13, 1890; “Cook Acquitted,” October 31, 1891; “Same Couple Figure Four Times in Divorce Court,” April 28, 1911.
Books, Journals, Websites, Documents
Thomas Jefferson Gregory, History of Sonoma County, California, With Biographical Sketches of Leading Men and Women (Historical Record Company, Los Angeles, 1911), p. 433.
Scott Hess and John Sheehy, “Sonoma Mountain,” On a River Winding Home (Ensatina Press, 2018), pp. 60-64.
Lee Torliatt, Golden Memories of the Redwood Empire (Chicago: Arcadia Publishing, 2001), pp. 22-27.
1881 Copeland Creek Easement between Thomas Hopper and M.J. Miller. Courtesy of Michael Healy personal collection.
Letter from David Wharff to A.P. Behrens, April 26, 1918. Sonoma County History & Genealogy Library.