by Paul R. Spitzzeri
Following last Saturday’s Adobe Day event at the Dominguez Rancho Adobe Museum and especially bearing in mind the heat of recent days, we turn to the second part of this post on the gradual decline of adobe buildings in greater Los Angeles in the 19th century. At the start of the decade of the 1860s, the Los Angeles Star of 12 January 1861 reported that the previous week included levels of rainfall not experienced in the region for years, adding, “a number of brick and adobe houses and walls have fallen, owing to softening of the earth beneath the foundations.”
Flood damage was minor in that winter compared to the astounding deluge, lasting some 40 days (hence the name “Noah’s Flood” that was assigned to it) between Christmas Eve 1861 and late January 1862. An early report from the Los Angeles News of 8 January noted accounts of damage, including that “the walls of several adobe houses have fallen,” while the issue of the 17th (which explained that there wasn’t a twenty-four period without rain since the storms came on 24 December) noted that serious injury was limited to “the melting down of some old adobe houses,” although a new water delivery system was washed out, as were vineyards.
At the end of the month, the paper printed a report from Anaheim that “several adobe buildings which were situated on very low ground were destroyed.” Notably, the News published a table of dollar amounts of damage in the Angel City totaling north of $20,000 at nine different locales, though destruction to houses did not specify the type of material used in the dwellings.
Near San Bernardino, the settlement of Agua Mansa, comprised mostly of New Mexican settlers, some coming with the Workman family in 1841 and almost certainly all residing in adobe edifices, was mostly destroyed and a correspondent wrote, “a great many adobe houses have fallen, and the walls of many others are in a tottering condition.”
The destruction from the 1861-1862 floods might have been worse because some adobe buildings were being razed prior to that. The 5 April 1861 edition of the News noted that future mayor José Mascarel was readying to raze a set of structures at Main and Commercial streets “to give place to a fine, substantial block of brick buildings” and the paper commented, “it is to be hoped that other proprietors will follow the example.”
The 2 August edition reported that “a sort of mania for improvement, seems to have taken hold of our citizens,” including the fact that “quite a number of those dingy old adobe buildings are fast melting away under the application of the ‘pick and shovel,’ while others are being overhauled and are to appear in new dress throughout.”
The Star, just more than two weeks later, commented that the first hotel in town, the Bella Union, built in the 1830s as a house and store for Isaac Williams, was “undergoing a thorough change” as “the old adobe walls are to be taken away and brick substituted.” This new addition was to house a store selling books, cigars and tobacco, stationery and other items and run by the brothers Michael and Joseph Goldwater.
Within a couple of years, however, the siblings moved to Arizona and found much success as Phoenix merchants with Michael’s grandson being the prominent United States Senator and Republican candidate for president in 1964, Barry Goldwater. The paper also observed that “the adobes are rapidly disappearing,” citing Mascarel’s recent replacement of buildings as noted above.
Not all of the Bella Union’s adobe components were taken out in 1861, however, as the Star of 26 June 1870 reported that “as the old adobe walls of the Bella Union building were removed yesterday,” workers and those observing the work were on the lookout for a bag of gold doubloons said to have been hidden in one of the walls by Williams.
It was said that, having made considerable sums in the sea otter trade to hide the money from “revolutions and forced loans by the Mexican officers.” Before his 1856 death, the story continued, Williams was seen drilling holes in a wall and telling bystanders of what he was looking for, though notes he’d taken did not help and the pieces remained hidden ever since.
Speaking of Williams, his adobe house on the Rancho Santa Ana del Chino, where the Boys Republic institution is located now in Chino Hills, was mentioned by the Star of 31 May 1862 as a Union Army soldier, marching from Camp Drum at Wilmington to Camp Wright at Warner Springs northwest of San Diego, described it as “one of the first class adobes, exceedingly plain, but comfortable and furnished with taste and an eye to enjoyment.”
Incidentally, the soldier was complimentary of Williams’ son-in-law Robert Carlisle, who ran the ranch, but was a die-hard Confederate supporter. It should be noted that the adobe houses of the Workman family at Rancho La Puente and daughter and son-in-law Margarita and F.P.F. Temple at Rancho La Merced were cited by visitors as being similarly well-maintained.
Back in the Angel City, the News of 15 August continued to promote “substantial improvements” as more of those “old and dingy adobe walls are fast giving way for a better class of buildings.” The latest instance was the note that “Mr. J[uan] Lanfranco,” a native of Gibraltar and husband of Petra Sepúlveda, having “removed his old building on [the east side of] Main street” so that he could build a two-story brick edifice with “a block of four elegant stores.”
One of these was long occupied by the saddle and harness business of the brothers Elijah and William H. Workman, nephews of Homestead founders William Workman and Nicolasa Urioste, and who soon became among the most prominent of the denizens of Los Angeles, with this enterprise being the basis of their wealth, that expanding into real estate, while they also became politically prominent.
A very interesting reference comes from the 27 March 1863 issue of the Star, which commented on the enclosing of the City Cemetery atop Fort Moore Hill with a wood fence, helping to alleviate what was considered “a public disgrace” as previous efforts to do this work were hindered as “the almighty dollar stood in the way, and hardened men’s hearts and closed their ears to all appeals.” While the burial ground “lay open and unprotected,” the paper observed that “the Catholic Cemetery was enclosed by an adobe wall, and the Jewish [burying ground] by a substantial brick wall,” these both at the base of the Elysian Hills to the north.
The Star bemoaned desecration of the City Cemetery excoriating vandals and hoping that “the fiery torments of hell await such monsters,” if not imprisonment for violating the law. In its 22 August edition, the paper informed readers that the festival of the Ladies of the Church of Mary was to be held in Stearns’ Hall on Arcadia Street between Main and Los Angeles streets, with the event being held “for the purpose of raising funds for the enclosure of the Catholic cemetery, the old adobe fence having fallen down.” The paper concluded, “we hope our citizens will be present en masse, and contribute towards aiding the ladies in their benevolent undertaking.”
The 10 October edition of the Star reported that
Not withstanding the “tightness” of the money market, and the discouraging condition of our great “staple,” cattle [William Workman slaughtered some 2,000 starving animals during a punishing drought following those floods], together with the successive failures of our cereal crops, improvements are being effected in our quiet city. The old adobe is gradually disappearing, and handsome brick buildings are taking their place.
Featured was the Lanfranco Block, deemed to be “decidedly ornamental to its locality,” while Jean-Louis Sainsevaine, a prominent vineyardist and winemaker, was lauded for his two-story United States Hotel, which, when completed, “will be a great improvement to the city.” Other areas of the municipality were similarly being enhanced and the account ended, “we hope to see our streets adorned with continuous rows of brick buildings, shaded by the evergreens which grow so luxuriously in our soil and climate.”
The 24 July edition of the News briefly noted that Jonathan Temple’s 1848 two-story adobe building at the triple intersection of Main, Spring and Temple streets was leased to unnamed persons planning to operate a hotel there, but the paper wished the “old adobe building razed to the ground” for “a fine edifice” of brick, as the site “is a most eligible location for a hotel.” As we’ll subsequently see, the adobe stood for nearly another decade.
After the Star closed, as its proprietor, Confederate sympathizer Henry Hamilton, was briefly imprisoned at Alcatraz Island and then was in financial straits, a new paper, the Wilmington Journal was launched using the old paper’s press and equipment. The 8 April 1865 edition of that paper featured a visitor’s comment that “a stranger unaccustomed to Spanish towns would not consider Los Angeles a pretty place” adding that “many of its houses are built of adobe, one-story high.” While a visitor might confuse these for stores, they would be surprised to “find upon entering these uncouth buildings that they are inhabited by some of the best citizens,” such as Stearns, owner of El Palacio next to Stearns Hall, with the adobes “well-furnished, and make comfortable dwellings.”
Despite the statement that a climb to Fort Moore Hill (where the graves of the City Cemetery were obscured by weeds) showed that “the liking for the low flat houses does not increase,” the guest was impressed by a visit to the William Wolfskill adobe, located on an estate between Alameda and San Pedro streets one direction and from Second to Seventh the other, with the escort being Wolfskill’s son-in-law Henry D. Barrows. The account continued,
While seated under the piazza, eating oranges just gathered from the trees [Wolfskill’s was the first commercial orange grove in California when established in 1841] and cracking nuts that were raised on the farm, we discovered why it is that the inhabitants like these adobe houses: they are nice and cool in the hottest weather, and we were informed that they are warmer in winter—so there is no inducement to exchange them for more showy dwellings.
While Jonathan Temple did not demolish his adobe structure as recommended by the News, the terrible effects of the floods and drought did lead him to sell off or offer for sale his Los Angeles-area holdings and decamp, with his wife Rafaela Cota, for San Francisco, the major and more cosmopolitan metropolis of the Golden State and the Pacific Coast.
In March 1866, Ignacio Garcia, his agent and former manager of the Temple store, the first in the Angel City, took out ads, listing a half-dozen properties for sale, including the 1857 brick portion of the Temple Block; the aforementioned two-story adobe structure to the north; an “adobe house in front of the Catholic Church,” this being the still-standing Plaza Church; a two-story residence with an adobe first floor and brick second level [not unlike part of the Workman House at the Homestead] on Alameda Street; a brick dwelling at the southwest corner of Spring and Temple streets; and “a lot enclosed with [an] adobe wall on New High street. Also on offer were empty lots in three large city blocks, though Temple, who sold the 27,000-acre Rancho Los Cerritos to the Bixby family for just $14,000, died two months later and his widow was left to deal with these extensive holdings.
The News of 1 May commented that Wolfskill “has commenced grading a lot on Main street, adjoining the Lafayette Hotel, for the erection of a new store, to be occupied by Messrs. S[olomon] Lazard & Co., as a dry goods store.” The 50 x 96 foot, two-story edifice, of what was considered fire-proof brick construction was touted as being “one of the largest and most substantial structures south of San Francisco.” The paper rejoiced that
One by one the old adobe buildings, the relics of a former and more incomplete age of civilization, are giving way to a more useful and ornamental class of buildings.
The 23 November edition of the News celebrated more improvements, reminding readers of its past accounts of changes and adding “there is scarcely a day that we do not observe some new feature of improvement in our growing city.” Lauding those who contributed to this, the paper expressed “regret that others who are the possessors of ample means, are not sufficiently public spirited to invest their surplus capital” in projects that would not only benefit them financially but “add greatly to the wealth and beauty of the city.”
Moreover, the paper pointed out that, in recent years, “comfortable houses could not be procured, even at very high rates of rent” because those who held lots suitable for excellent buildings did not want to sell them “or pull down the old adobe rookeries and build decent houses in their stead.” Consequently, families were burdened with paying excessive rents “for inferior houses” instead of “handsome and convenient cottages.” The News bitterly concluded that “the owners of the land are in a great measure, responsible for the backward state of our city.”
In fact, to whatever degree this was true and while it appears Temple, for one, gave up on the Angel City after the ravages of the first half of the decade, which included smallpox epidemics and grasshopper infestations as well as climactic disaster, there was, in the years following the Civil War, a new era for greater Los Angeles. Its first boom was afoot and would last through the mid-1870s, so we’ll stop here and pick up with part three dealing with the last four years of the Sixties. Check back with us then!