by Paul R. Spitzzeri
Today the Homestead participated in the third annual Adobe Days event at the Andrés Pico Adobe Park in Mission Hills, being one nearly 20 historic sites sharing their adobe structures and histories. As with the previous two years, held at the Dominguez Rancho Adobe Museum in Compton, we displayed photographs from the Museum’s collection of adobe dwellings throughout our region, including a 1920s view of this year’s host site, the ruins of the Campo de Cahuenga in Studio City, and several others, along with, of course, our own Workman House and La Casa Nueva.
Over the last couple of days, this post has explored some of the history of the Gainsborough Heath subdivision in the San Gabriel Valley city of San Marino, including that land formerly being the Dew Drop Ranch of Luther H. Titus and then owned by Louis L. Bradbury, his wife Simona Martínez and their children. It was the Bradbury Estate which sold nearly 300 acres to the Bradbury Syndicate as the J.B. Ransom Corporation prepared to develop the tract. We’ll get to more of the Gainsborough Heath subdivision subsequently, but this third part looks at a publication issued for the project.
The Story of Gainsborough Heath and the old Adobe is a 23-page pamphlet with a foreword by O. Nicholas Gabriel, who played a key role in the tract’s development and whose forward stated that “it is rich in history and mellow with a cultural atmosphere which began more than one hundred and fifty years ago” as well as “it has, for parts of three centuries, represented the very essence of that beauty and charm which is—Southern California!” To lend an air of authority and authenticity, Gabriel insisted that the contents of the publication were derived from “historical records and word of mouth by direct descendants of its early owners,” while “dedicated to home lovers everywhere.”
The “old adobe house” was, it was asserted, “built of adobe bricks several feet thick and with giant beams brought down from the Sierra Madre [San Gabriel] Mountains” and “was rugged and plain,” lacking in “what the early mission fathers” at Mission San Gabriel “remembered of the architecture of Spain,” even as it was claimed that “it was an example of the famous eighteenth century California architecture.” Moreover, the text averred that “from about the period of 1770 this house was a milestone and a haven for travelers on the only trail,” El Camino Real, “through Alta California” and that,
The old house was one of the few fine buildings on the Pacific Coast in that early day. It sheltered the gay life and color of Old Spain in America, when Mexican Governors and army officers were the social leaders of their time. It outlived the reclamation of the mission lands by the Mexican Government and the coming of the American pioneers, when the chivalrous life of Spanish America quietly disappeared.
For about 50 years, the document obliquely remarked, “the old adobe and its surrounding acres became the property of a succession of owners” until it was acquired by Titus, who, inaccurately, was said to have left his native New York state to go to Pennsylvania’s western oil country and “had the first oil refinery in the vicinity of Titusville, Pennsylvania.” If this came from “word of mouth by direct descendants,” it was not in his lengthy biographical sketch published not long after his death, nor in an obituary.
When Dew Drop was established, it was remarked that “the staunch old house” was remodeled with a second story of wood “and a balcony of delicate lines and beauty of design was built around it.” During this renovation, “it was found that the adobe bricks had become so hard, through all the years of their existence, that it was necessary to blast them were changes were to be made.” Another tidbit of note was that an artesian well provided the water for a fountain that remained in 1928.
The publication mentioned Titus’ practicing of agriculture, chiefly oranges, as well as his raising of fine horses, while it added this remarkable passage:
A tradition of long life has always been preserved on the ranch. Three women have lived there until they were over one hundred years old; one of them, a lady of the early Spanish regime, having been registered in two missions, so that it was proved that her age was one hundred and forty years.
This last was Eulalia Pérez de Guillen, mentioned earlier in this post and featured in a prior one here that featured a photo from the Homestead with her seated in a chair in a garden in front of a residence that looks like a small single-story adobe with a wood second floor and gabled roof and a balcony not unlike that described above in the publication, though an 1885 photo of the Titus Adobe shows that they are not the same. The likely possibility is the Doña Eulalia was at one of the houses owned by a descendant, perhaps of the White family, with the Michael White Adobe (definitely not the one in the photo) just about a half-mile west and still with us on the grounds of San Marino High School.
The booklet informed its readers that
The ranch and the old house again became the center of the finest social life of the San Gabriel Valley—regained their prestige of a century gone by, with a world of importance added thereto. Distinguished travelers from eastern states and from Europe were entertained at the Titus ranch. It drew, as a magnet, the fashion of the gay ‘nineties—a period which has never been surpassed in excellent of style and perfection of appointment.
Famous Americans and titled folk frequent remained for long visits, enjoying the beauty of the surroundings and the culture and hospitality of the Titus home.
No evidence or examples were provided to buttress much of this statement, though we cited an 1874 visit from a Chicago journalist and there were, undoubtedly, more published examples. It should be noted that the reference to the “gay ‘nineties” was after Titus sold Dew Drop, which then went to Bradbury. In any case, the text turned to the Twentieth Century and remarked that the adobe “has been restored, and made comfortable for its present day requirements.” As we saw in part three, Louis L. Bradbury was reported to have been working on a residence that, after the sale to the syndicate, was to become the administration building for Ransom in its development of Gainsborough Heath.
To that end, the pamphlet breathlessly burst forth in some of the furthest reaches of romanticism:
The old Spanish acres, the Titus ranch, have sprung again into far-reaching activity, as—Gainsborough Heath! The very essence of Alta California days—the high standard of living—and the later American period of true gentility, have been preserved through parts of three centuries! They have blossomed into maturity, as it were, in Gainsborough Heath! . . .
The rich acres of the historic old ranch—now Gainsborough Heath— are ready to be occupied by many smaller estates, each of which shall express, in its own way, the beauty and dignity of its surroundings, the old adobe modernized!
The old adobe mansion, splendidly in accord with the spirit of today, is now the center around which other successful American homes are gathering. The pure beauty of its architecture constitutes a standard which will be repeated—perpetuated.
The name “La Ramada Inn” was bestowed on it and “where its old atmosphere, and its hospitality, always revered, continues to this day,” with it claimed that it “is now a social center of the Southland, which invites the culture of the world to share its hospitality, its history and its romance!” Mentioned, too, were the fireplaces, but in context of “gay umbrellas” in the patio, while oak trees added ambiance and “grandeur.”
Readers were informed that La Ramada “has been discovered by the social leaders who create the ‘know,'” so reservations were highly recommended for banquets, dinners, bridge parties and more events, while lunch, afternoon tea and dinner were served daily. Another profusion of purple prose ensued with, despite the adobe’s centrality as a real estate development sales office:
La Ramada at night! White in the moonlight; shadows of great oaks; fountain musically splashing; lanterns in the trees; a young voice singing “Carmena,” to the strains of a Spanish guitar; La Ramada mellows into the ages. The spur of commercialism seems afar off. California is again a land of Romance—languorous, fragrant—at La Ramada!
As for the development, Gainsborough Heath was simply stated as “culturally situated,” particularly with its namesake reference to the “world-famous Huntington Library, Art Gallery and [Botanical] Gardens [as] near neighbors.” The famed “Blue Boy” by Gainsborough, a centerpiece of the art collection exhibited in the Huntington mansion, was “said to have been purchased . . . at a cost of $750,000,” the price actually being just a bit less at $728,000, a then-record for a painting (now it is $450 million for a Da Vinci of somewhat questionable authenticity).
Mentioned, too, was the Pasadena Community Playhouse, a “famous Little Theatre, which attracts players of international reputation,” while the Mission San Gabriel, “the purple shadows of Mount Lowe and Mount Wilson—their grandeur and beauty;” the “old Indian mill,” meaning the Mission mill, once co-owned by William Workman, founder of the Homestead; and “of course, Pasadena hotels, the focusing-points of well known travelers from all over the world” were added to the “expression of the cultured life of the valley,” that is, its west end.
San Gabriel Country Club, of which Walter P. Temple, then-owner of the Homestead and builder of the recently completed La Casa Nueva (replete with romanticism in its Spanish Colonial Revival exuberance) was highlighted in terms of sports—at least, for the well-to-do. Along these lines, a “Gainsborough Saddle and Boot Club” was mentioned with its riding ring and bridle paths, something resonant of the development of Flintridge in today’s Flintridge-La Cañada, another high-end residential city in the area.
Speaking of demographics, it is notable to see a reference to “The Magnet for Old and New World Aristocracy” for Gainsborough Heath, though it was carefully observed that north of Huntington Drive were lots for “those who desire to build estates or homes of the larger type,” while “south of the Drive has been divided into choice building lots, the price of which is well within the means of those seeking a permanent home, in an exclusive, restricted section.” Restricted was code for racially exclusive, a feature near-universal in greater Los Angeles, including in Temple’s more modest Town of Temple, soon to be renamed Temple City, and located near the San Marino subdivision.
The text included the remark that “wise architectural guidance—not merely restriction—is the chief principle of home-building at Gainsborough Heath,” though the follow-up remark is also of note: “while acceptance of a standard—an ideal—will be suggested to builders of homes, this will always be found to be an advantage—a courteous and sincere desire to help.” This looked to be a gentle admonition about styles considered to be acceptable for such a development.
Naturally, though, it was the economic return that was important in the publication’s text, as it was commented that,
Gainsborough Heath offers substantial returns to the investor in a business or residence lot. In San Marino we have a community on which the eyes of the nation are directed. We invite home-lovers to build in Gainsborough Heath. We invite the careful investor [i.e., speculator of distinction] to inspect the most advantageously situated community property in the United States today.
Included in the pamphlet was an ornate tract map, showing the main streets, many of them gracefully curved, with “La Ramada Inn” at its northeastern section, as well as one of the tract and the surrounding area from the “Los Angeles Business District to the southwest up to San Marino, along with Pasadena, San Gabriel, Alhambra and South Pasadena, though no further east.
Interestingly, about the only mention of the type of people anticipated to build and live in Gainsborough Heath came with the remark that “children reared with a background of such beauty” as was found in the San Gabriel Valley, with some of the old orange orchards still in evidence, “the best that art and schools and high social living can give, should constitute a noble type of youth.” There is almost a ring of eugenics here, if not a direct reference to that “New World Aristocracy.”
Towards the end of the text is “Ideal Environment,” returning to the young ones, including the statement that “the children who live in the San Gabriel Valley have a rich blessing indeed” with the very common remarks on climate, clean air, “the sturdy influence of the great mountains and trees,” the local scenery, “which even little children are acutely aware of,” as “benefits experienced by comparatively few growing children.” This, of course, can be viewed through the lens of class distinctions, especially with this remark calibrated for the elite advertised to with this publication:
Gainsborough Heath has to offer to the children the priceless gift of growing up out of doors, with carefully chosen [!] companions, in a locality known the world over for its evenness of temperature, its loveliness of scene, as well as for the high standard of people who have established their homes there.
In this haven for young folk there will be playgrounds, with fascinating facilities for sports and for little children’s play, planned to satisfy the real [!] boys and girls who are coming to make life—even in this glorious Valley—worth while.
With respect to schools, it was asserted that “educators the world over are aware of the high standard of the schools of Southern California,” so the San Marino examples were considered “models of equipment and enduring beauty.” Added was the proximity to the California Institute of Technology (which the Homestead’s Thomas W. Temple attended for a semester in 1922), described as “a school which has began at the very top and is maintaining an unparalleled reputation among young colleges.” Other institutions, including girls’ schools, boys’ military academies, prep schools, the Los Angeles campus of the University of California and “of course, the kindergartens, which are a subject in themselves” were mentioned.
Being almost exclusively a high-end residential city, San Marino had, and still has, a very small commercial element, though, as noted with early advertising and media reports, “Gainsborough Heath will have shops” but “such shops!” because these were to be “exclusive” and, naturally, “will represent the cultured preferences of its residents in art and in setting.”
Amid directions for prospective buyers to reach the subdivision, as well as contact information such the main corporate address (in the National City Bank Building, of which Walter P. Temple was part of the syndicate to construct it in downtown Los Angeles) and phone numbers, the booklet ended with the statement that:
The J.B. Ransom Corporation, which sponsors [an interesting word] Gainsborough Heath, is composed of staunch and successful men of Southern California. Individually and corporately they stand back of the splendid project which is Gainsborough Heath. Their belief in this fascinating section of San Gabriel Valley is founded upon reality. Their every promise to investors is an assurance, in itself, of a literal fulfillment.
With this rather effusive, ornate and carefully curated sales device, the Ransom firm was readied to promote the tract in 1928 and we’ll return with a concluding fourth part to discuss more of Gainsborough Heath’s early history (as well as the fate of the “old adobe,” which was the heavily remodeled edifice partially depicted in the featured postcard for this post), so check back for that!