by Paul R. Spitzzeri
Following up on yesterday’s post concerning a loan made to William Workman by Juan Matias Sánchez, formerly Workman’s foreman at the Rancho La Puente and co-owner of Rancho La Merced (courtesy of Workman’s gift of the property) with Workman’s son-in-law, F.P.F. Temple, we turn to a fascinating 1958 compilation of recollections by Hortescia Rendon de Aguirre (1865-1963), who provided these in writing to Temple’s grandson, Thomas, long a genealogist and historian of note in greater Los Angeles.
Thomas put together this document as part of his biography of Sánchez and wrote “we are indeed fortunate to have an information on the subject,” adding that he responses were sent to him over a half-year period upon which, he continued, “her letters are so informative of those times and customs, I have thought it best to transcribe and translate them almost verbatim.” Temple observed that Doña Hortencia “was a school mate of both my aunt, Margarita Temple and [Sánchez’ daughter] Maria de la Luz Sanchez in Los Angeles in 1880.

The reminiscences began with “I also knew Don Juan Matias, he was a man of substance. I don’t know whether he had had any formal education, but I can vouch that his sons did. I used to see them almost every day at the father’s merchandise store and billirad [sic] parlor.” Señora Aguirre’s father was Alejo Rendon (1832-1905), who appears to have come to Los Angeles from México in the 1850s, was naturalized at the end of the decade and worked as a barber.
This remained his occupation for much of his life, though, in June 1873, he sold his “Alex Hair Dressing Saloon” and took over the Barnum Restaurant on Main Street just off the northwest corner of the Plaza. After a short time, however, Rendon resumed his barbering business in an adjacent room after a short time and operated both businesses for about a year.

After an early June 1874 incident at the mill of William Workman at the southwestern corner of Rancho La Puente, in which miller William Turner and his wife Rebecca were attacked and after which suspect Jesús Romo was apprehended and lynched by Workman’s foreman, Frederick Lambourn, along with Walter Drown, who was Workman’s ward and was raised by the Temples, and El Monte merchant Jacob Schlessinger, Rendon formed a partnership with Lambourn to take over the store.
As an obvious indication of his birthplace, Rendon took out an ad in the Spanish-language newspaper, La Crónica (later operated by Thomas Temple’s namesake uncle), and proclaimed “¡Viva Jalisco!” for his Tienda del Molino de la Puente (Puente Mill Store) and informed readers,
Being in charge of this business, I inform my countrymen and the general public that I have a complete assortment of groceries, provisions and ready-made clothing and an innumerable variety of effects that I will sell at extremely low prices.
At the time, greater Los Angeles was at the peak of its first boom, but that abruptly went bust in late August 1875 and subsequently when a financial panic included the failure of the Temple and Workman bank. Rendon remained at the Workman Mill location through the end of the decade and then returned to Los Angeles briefly. Though most of the 1880s and subsequent decade, he operated a store and saloon near the El Ranchito of Don Pío Pico and may have been retired for several years before his death.

Returning to Doña Hortensia’s recollections of Sánchez, she remarked that “like all rich men of the period, Don Juan Matias did not believe in banks,” though his compadres Temple and Workman were involved in the industry for about eight years. She went on that “he was not alone in these sentiments for all rich men had coffers at home, chests or strong-boxes of stout metal in which they kept their valuables, money, jewels and the like.”
Moreover, “when these were full, they would bury them in their garden or orchard” and kept the location to themselves and she speculated that Sánchez did the same—this was in reply to Thomas’ question about whether she knew anything of rumors of buried treasure at the Soto-Sánchez Adobe in Montebello, which he occupied for nearly thirty-five years before his 1885 death.

As noted in yesterday’s post, Sánchez, despite advice to the contrary, agreed to put up his half of Rancho La Merced as collateral for a loan from “Lucky” Baldwin to the Temple and Workman bank. When the institution failed just weeks later and then Baldwin foreclosed after some three years, he made an arrangement for Don Juan Matias to keep 200 acres around his house, though Señora Aguirre commented, “after the debacle and loss of his properties, Don Juan Matias never let on that he had lost everything.” When he married his second wife, Matilda Bojorquez, it was remarked that “they always gave the impression of being rich and opulent.”
Notably, after stating that her father and Sánchez were close, Doña Hortensia added that “most of the rich men of that day, including your grandfather Templito and your great-grandfather Don Julian Workman, along with Don Juan Matias were close-mouthed, introspective and uncommunicative.” Next was another remarkable anecdote about Workman, in which she told Thomas “I also believe that your great-grandfather Mr. Workman left some buried treasure” and then she added,
Only papa knew Mr. Workman’s secrets for they had known each other well from my father’s younger days. Mr. Workman would send a sent every Saturday into the Pueblo to pick up papa, who was a barber, to take him out the Puente Rancho. They were also doubly intimate, for they were both Masons like Señor Sanchez.
There were times when I would accompany my papa to the Puente. They would shut themselves up in a room, leaving me outside the big house to admire the fine birds Don Julian kept in an aviary there [like in the courtyard to the south]. A servant would then bring me out a table with my lunch, they remaining “holed-up” within the adobe.
The close relationship, of the compadre type that Workman had with Sánchez and Pico, extended to the Rendons move to La Puente, as Señora Aguirre recorded that “Mr. Workman had a house built for my papa at El Molino de La Puente, near the Workman Mill, where he lived, just to have him close to him, for every Saturday come rain or come shine, my paper had to to the Puente to bathe, shave and cut Señor Workman’s hair . . . Mr. Workman even bought my father a horse and buddy so that he could make his weekly rounds.”

Doña Hortensia further informed Thomas that she went twice with her father to the Workman House, both occurring during school vacations, and she added that it was dark by the time she and Alejo Rendon returned home from those visits. Then came another extraordinary revelation concerning what transpired after, in great despair following the failure of the bank, Workman committed suicide in his house on 17 May 1876.
Señora Aguirre told Thomas that,
When Mr. Workman died, Don Pancho [Francis W.] Temple, your uncle, who was a compadre of papa’s, (he and your aunt Lucinda having stood sponsor at baptism for two of my sisters) entrusted my father with preparing the body for burial. Papa did all this but found that the eyes of the deceased would not close. Don Pancho then brought two twenty dollar gold pieces with which papa attempted to close them, but these were not large enough. Then your uncle produced two fifty dollar gold slugs, called “esquinadas,” that is, cornered for they were eight sides, and with these they were able to finish dressing the remains for proper burial.
When the body was ready to place in the casket, the eyelids having remained closed, Don Pancho made a gift of the “esquinadas” to my father. These he treasured for as long a time as he could, what with the increasingly hard times that followed. I know of this because as a child I overheard the conversation of my parents and my father used to show me the gold slugs.
Doña Hortensia returned to the topic of the Soto-Sánchez Adobe, stating that she went twice on visits with Don Juan Matias. She noted that “it was a spacious house, a grand old house, very clean and tidy within. He had fine furniture, marble topped walnut and rosewood pieces in the ‘sala’ or living room . . . like at the Puente and at your grandfather, Templito’s.” The remainder of the residence, however, was comprised of “more rustic or primitive type of furniture.”

As the owner, he was described as “a large man, of florid complextion, a great favorite of the ladies, and with the men as well. He was serious and not much given to conversation on the outside, but very amiable, treating everyone with the utmost kindness, and loyal to his friends.” From his residence, “he could see across the river [Río Hondo, the original San Gabriel River] bed and his vineyard to his compadre Templito’s adobe, the palm tree in the patio [of the latter] becoming a local landmark in the valley, much like the Sanchez House on the hill.”
Señora Aguirre also referred to the fact that bandits, such as the notorious Tiburcio Vásquez (who, she related, her father took her to visit with gifts while he was jailed following arrest locally and pending the trial at San Jose that led to his execution by hanging in spring 1875) patronized her father’s store and that Rendon “would carry them on his books . . . but they were always quick to pay up.” Moreover, she averred, “they never attempted to do any harm . . . to any people of their race” as “their grievance and even vengeance was aimed only at the “Gringos”!”

Another interesting recollection was that,
They also held horse races an other sports on horseback at La Mision Vieja [the community situated around the Sánchez and Temple properties]. Among the games was “Sacar el Gallo”—the game on horseback where a live rooster was buried up to his neck in the ground and the boys would come dashing past, reach down and try to pluck the moving head of the dodging bird. Usually there was a gold piece tied to the rooster’s leg, and this made for some real sport among the braver horsemen [these including members of the local Alvitre, Bermudez and Manriquez families].
Doña Hortensia added her remembrance of the Workman Mill, noting that flour, corn, and pinole were ground there and that the first miller was William Turner’s father, John, and, in discussing the lynching of Romo, known as “El Gordo,” for his portly build, she commented that “justice, that is, frontier justice so-called, was fast and sure!” Later, she added, “they shut down the Mill, and the roof fell in. Only the round mill wheels remained, and when we were children we used to play there amid the ruins.”

Upon the death of Don Juan Matias in November 1885, “everything seemed to fall apart, I mean by this that the family disbanded—the older ones married” and after discussing some of the children, she concluded “this is about all that I have to report on the Sanchez family, as I knew it in the good old days.” Fortunately, she provided some notable diversions, perhaps with gentle prodding by Thomas, who was undoubtedly eager to hear these about his ancestors and he ended the narrative by commenting, “our 95 year-old informant and devoted friend of the Temple, Workman and Sanchez Families [sic], still signs her name, Hortensia Rendon de Aguirre with steady hand.”
Five years later, in November 1963, Señora Aguirre died just four days before her 98th birthday (so Thomas’ declaration of her age was a couple of years off!) and we can be thankful that he took the initiative to ask her about her remembrances and that she, in writing, provided these to Thomas to translate and transcribe.
These blog posts from the 1800’s are fascinating, and important to keep alive the history of our area. Keep up the great work!
Hi Kevin, thanks for the comment and we’re glad that you enjoy the blog. We’ll definitely keep those posts relating to the 19th century going!
In her reminiscences noted in the post, Hortensia Rendon spoke often of Juan Matias Sanchez, which brought to mind a visit I made many years ago to his old adobe in Montebello. That weekend afternoon, I had the pleasure of meeting his grandson, a gentleman in his 70s, who personally led me on a tour of the adobe museum and eagerly shared stories with me. I remember asking him one question: “With 150 years having passed, why do most families have great-great-grandchildren by now, yet you are only representing the third generation?” He explained that both his father and grandfather had children in their 70s. (After his first wife passed away, Juan M. Sanchez remarried in his 70s to a young woman and had three more children.) I then joked with him, saying, “Isn’t it about time for you to produce more offspring?”
Hi Larry, that was Bud Sánchez, who was a great steward of his family’s history for many years. That’s great that you had the interaction with him.
Thank you! I have Alvitre and Bermudez ancestors.
Hi Edgar, of course, we’re glad that you found this post!