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T he Jou r n a l of

Volume 5 4

San Diego History Spring 20 0 8

Number 2



The Journal of San Diego History

Publication of The Journal of San Diego History has been partially funded by generous grants from the Joseph W. Sefton Foundation; Natale A. Carasali Trust; Quest for Truth Foundation of Seattle, Washington, established by the late James G. Scripps; the Dallas and Mary Clark Foundation; Philip M. Klauber; and an anonymous friend and supporter of the Journal. Publication of this issue of The Journal of San Diego History has also been supported by a grant from “The Journal of San Diego History Fund” of the San Diego Foundation. The San Diego Historical Society is able to share the resources of four museums and its extensive collections with the community through the generous support of the following: City of San Diego Commission for Art and Culture; County of San Diego; foundation and government grants; individual and corporate memberships; corporate sponsorship and donation bequests; sales from museum stores and reproduction prints from the Booth Historical Photograph Archives; admissions; and proceeds from fund-raising events. Articles appearing in The Journal of San Diego History are abstracted and indexed in Historical Abstracts and America: History and Life. The paper in the publication meets the minimum requirements of American National Standard for Information Science-Permanence of Paper for Printed Library Materials, ANSI Z39.48-1984.

Front Cover: Postcard, “A Salute from the U.S. Naval Training Station, San Diego, California,” pre-1944. ©SDHS PC #84-95. Back Cover: View in 2008 through the arches at Liberty Station, formerly the U.S. Naval Training Station, San Diego, California. Author’s collection. Cover Design: Allen Wynar

Preserve a San Diego Treasure Your $100 contribution will help to create an endowment for

The Journal of San Diego History

Please make your check payable to The San Diego Foundation. Indicate on the bottom of your check that your donation is for The Journal of San Diego History Fund. The San Diego Foundation accepts contributions of $100 and up. Your contribution is tax-deductible.

The San Diego Foundation 2508 Historic Decatur Road, Suite 200 San Diego, CA 92106

(619) 235-2300 or (858) 385-1595 [email protected]

The Jour nal of

San Diego History Volume 54

Spr ing 2008

Iris H. W. Engstrand Molly McClain

Editors

THEODORE STRATHMAN David miller

Review Editors

Published since 1955 by the SAN DIEGO HISTORICAL SOCIETY 1649 El Prado, Balboa Park, San Diego, California 92101 ISSN 0022-4383

number 2

The Jour na l of

San Diego History Volum e 5 4 spr ing 2 0 0 8

Editorial Consultants MATTHEW BOKOVOY University of Oklahoma DONALD C. CUTTER Albuquerque, New Mexico WILLIAM DEVERELL University of Southern California; Director, Huntington-USC Institute of California and the West VICTOR GERACI University of California, Berkeley PHOEBE KROPP University of Pennsylvania ROGER W. LOTCHIN University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill NEIL MORGAN Journalist DOYCE B. NUNIS, JR University of Southern California JOHN PUTMAN San Diego State University ANDREW ROLLE The Huntington Library RAMON EDUARDO RUIZ University of California, San Diego ABE SHRAGGE University of California, San Diego RAYMOND STARR San Diego State University, emeritus DAVID J. WEBER Southern Methodist University

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n um ber 2

Published quarterly by the San Diego Historical Society at 1649 El Prado, Balboa Park, San Diego, California 92101. A $60.00 annual membership in the San Diego Historical Society includes subscription to The Journal of San Diego History and the SDHS Times. Back issues are available at www.sandiegohistory.org. Articles and book reviews for publication consideration, as well as editorial correspondence, should be addressed to the Editors, The Journal of San Diego History, Department of History, University of San Diego, 5998 Alcalá Park, San Diego, CA 92110 All article submissons should be typed and double-spaced with endnotes, and follow the Chicago Manual of Style. Authors should submit three copies of their manuscript, plus an electronic copy, in MS Word or in rich text format (RTF). The San Diego Historical Society assumes no responsibility for the statements or opinions of the authors or reviewers. ©2007 by the San Diego Historical Society ISSN 0022-4383 Periodicals postage paid at San Diego, CA Publication No. 331-870 (619) 232-6203 www.sandiegohistory.org

CONTENTS Volume 54

Spr ing 2008

number 2

ARTICLES “Liberty Station” and the Naval Training Center in San Diego Molly McClain 73

San Diego’s Sweetheart: Maureen Connolly Joey Seymour 86

Life Beyond Gold: A New Look at the History of Julian, California Kathryn Jordan 101

The Balboa Theatre: A Preservation Project Completed Iris Engstrand 113

The Charity Ball

Mary Clark and Iris Engstrand 117

BOOK REVIEWS 120

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“Liberty Station” and the

Naval Training Center in San Diego Molly McClain The redevelopment of the Naval Training Center (NTC) in San Diego is one of several projects in California aimed at preserving historic military sites and structures and adapting them for public use. Others include the Presidio in San Francisco, the Marine Corps Air Station in El Toro, and the Oakland Army Base. This short history and photo essay recalls the history of the NTC and documents the restoration process that began in 2000. During the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries, the U.S. Navy modernized and expanded its fleet and trained sailors to operate increasingly sophisticated battleships. It also established academic departments at every base in an effort to “make the Navy a great university, with college extensions afloat and ashore,” in the words of Secretary of the Navy Josephus Daniels (term in office 1913-21).1 San Diego’s Naval Training Station, established by Congress in 1919, trained recruits and instructed fleet personnel. Its role in educating young sailors caused it to become known as “The Cradle of the Navy.”2 Congressman William M. Kettner (term in office 1912-21) played a key role in securing an area near San Diego Bay Sailor stationed at the entrance to the Naval Training Station. for the NTC. He convinced ©SDHS, UT #8248-305, Union-Tribune Collection. the government to relocate the existing Goat Island Training Station in San Francisco to San Diego and persuaded local businessmen to finance the purchase of land for the Navy. San Diego’s Chamber of Commerce donated 135 acres of land located north of the Mean High Tide Line and Rosecrans Molly McClain is associate professor and chair of the History Department at the University of San Diego. A ninth-generation San Diegan, she edits The Journal of San Diego History with Iris Engstrand.

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Street while the City of San Diego gave 142 acres of submerged tidelands. Kettner’s work was part of a larger effort to make San Diego the main operating base of the Pacific Fleet.3 Construction at the Loma Portal site began in 1921. The Navy retained Lincoln Rogers, the architect of the New York Water Supply System, and an assistant W. L. Menzies who had worked on the Naval Air Station, North Island, and the San Diego Naval Hospital. According to architect Milford Wayne Donaldson, the two men were inspired by Bertram G. Goodhue who had designed many important structures in San Diego, including the Panama-California Exposition buildings in Balboa Park, and Irving Gill, architect of the Scripps Institution of Oceanography. They also drew on a Beaux Arts tradition that emphasized symmetry and a formal approach to design. As a result, the architects adopted a modified Spanish Colonial Revival style and oriented the buildings along two main axes running from north to south.4 In 1923, the U.S. Naval Training Station, San Diego, was placed in commission under the command of Captain (later Rear Admiral) David F. Sellers, U.S. Navy. Buildings included a mess hall, barracks, dispensary, cubicle building, fire station, information building, guard’s quarters, regimental quartermaster’s building, and regimental office. All were designed to take advantage of San Diego’s mild climate, with loggias, open-air porches, and arcades. Over the next fifteen years, the Navy expanded the size of the campus and the number of buildings to accommodate 1,500 men.5 During World War II, the station trained a population of as many as 25,000 recruits and 8,000 students in forty-one schools that included radio, yeoman, bugle, and electrical. Barracks included Camps Lawrence, Jones, Decatur, Luce, Mahan, and Farragut. One building housed the “Women Accepted for Volunteer Emergency Service,” or WAVES. In 1944, the training station became a group command and was redesignated as the U.S. Naval Training Center, under the command of the Center Commander, with three subordinate commands: Recruit Training Command, Service School Command, and Naval Administration Command. It continued to meet the nation’s defense needs from the 1950s through the end of the Cold War. In 1993, the U.S. Navy announced its intention to close the NTC under terms of the Base Closure and Realignment Act of 1990. At that time, the NTC consisted of over three hundred buildings occupying almost 550 acres of land, plus training buildings at the 32nd Street Naval Station. The City of San Diego, led by Mayor Susan Golding (term in office 1992-2000), responded by entering into a master lease agreement with the Navy in 1995 to ensure that there would continue to be activity on the base. The city subleased buildings to film companies, nonprofit organizations, city departments, and small businesses. It also began negotiating with the Navy for the transfer of the bulk of the base to city ownership.6 On April 30, 1997 all active military use of the base ended, though the Navy retained some land for about 500 units of military housing. On May 13, 1997 the city adopted a redevelopment plan for the NTC that called for, among other things, the development of housing opportunities, the acquisition of park and recreation facilities, the preservation of historically and architecturally significant buildings and landscaped areas, and the conservation of the environmental habitat at the base.7 Faced with the enormous cost of implementing

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“Liberty Station” and the Naval Training Center in San Diego the plan, the San Diego City Council decided to partner with an outside master developer. They held a competition and, in June 1999, selected the Corky McMillin Companies to develop the site. The NTC was transferred from the Navy to the City of San Diego on May 3, 2000. It also was nominated to the National Register of Historic Places as a historic district. Planning began for two hotels, 350 market-rate housing units, educational facilities, office, research, and development buildings, retail shops and restaurants, museums, live/work lofts, nearly 70 acres of parks, open spaces and golf course expanses, and the civic and arts center. Heritage Architecture & Planning, preservation architects, played a leading role in identifying the NTC as “an important landmark in the development of the Spanish Colonial Revival style.”8 The firm also provided the guidelines for the restoration of the many historic buildings and landscape features. In 2000, the Corky McMillin Companies created the NTC Foundation, an independent nonprofit responsible for the rehabilitation and operation of the Civic, Arts, and Cultural Center. It also renamed the base “Liberty Station” in an attempt to attract residents and investors. Over the next seven years, the developer built houses and condominiums, new office buildings, and High Tech High School.9 It leased property to developer C. W. Clark in order to turn former barracks into a retail marketplace anchored by Vons and Trader Joe’s. It also renovated the Sail Ho Golf Course. Future construction includes two hotels and a 46-acre waterfront park, executive golf course, boat channel, and athletic club. The redevelopment of the NTC was controversial from the start. Critics included advocates for the homeless; the Campo Band of Mission Indians and the Kumeyaay Tribal Coalition, who contended that the site was part of their ancestral homeland; Brian Fletcher, whose family gifted 135-acres to the U.S. Navy for exclusive use as a training base; and a local citizens group, Save Our NTC, Inc. In 2007, the San Diego Union-Tribune reported that the city’s deal with McMillin was lopsided in favor of the developer. It also showed that many of the houses and condominiums in Liberty Station had been purchased by wealthy investors rather than the “folks working their way up in the world.” Delays in the construction of the waterfront park suggest that controversy will continue.10 To some, Liberty Station remains a national model for the conversion of military bases throughout the country. Harry H. Kelso, an attorney and executive officer of Base Closure Partners, L.L.C., considers Liberty Station to be an excellent example of how the redevelopment of former military sites “can be done very effectively and done correctly.”11 The Liberty Marketplace won a “Redevelopment Award of Merit” from the California Construction Magazine while the NTC Promenade won an Orchid for Urban Design from the San Diego Architectural Foundation in 2007.12 At the very least, the city’s proactive approach to the development of the former military base has saved a historic site for future generations of San Diegans. The following photographs illustrate the development of the NTC from 1919 to the present:

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The Journal of San Diego History

Postcard showing recruits in military formation in Balboa Park. In 1917, the Navy leased land and buildings in the park, using them as temporary training facilities during World War I. ©SDHS PC #84-107.

Aerial photograph of the Naval Training Station looking southwest, 1928. ©SDHS #79:559.

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“Liberty Station” and the Naval Training Center in San Diego

View looking northeast over the roofs of the newly constructed buildings in the Naval Training Station with the homes on San Diego’s Bankers Hill in the background, ca. 1922. ©SDHS, #99:19920.

Aerial photograph of the Naval Training Station, ca. 1930. ©SDHS OP #12423-1133.

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The Journal of San Diego History

Navy recruits engage in a physical drill under arms in John Paul Jones Court, ca. 1920s. The barracks reflect the influence of the Spanish Colonial Revival style in architecture. ©SDHS #99:19919-2.

Drill in John Paul Jones Court, ND. ©SDHS UT #84:27118-3, Union-Tribune Collection.

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“Liberty Station” and the Naval Training Center in San Diego

Recruits lined up for kit inspection, October 1935. ©SDHS, #89:17149-27.

Military exercises in Preble Field, ca. 1940s. Camp Luce Auditorium can be seen in the distance. ©SDHS UT #84:27118-5, Union-Tribune Collection.

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A former administration building opposite Ingram Plaza, constructed in 1942, serves as the NTC’s Visitor Center. Author’s collection.t

Captain David F. Sellers championed landscaping to make the base more hospitable. He was responsible for the planting of Bunya-Bunya trees, popular in the 1920s, shown here in Sellers Plaza. The flower-filled anchor was created in 1963. Author’s collection.

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“Liberty Station” and the Naval Training Center in San Diego

Shops and offices now occupy the buildings in the South Promenade, formerly Lawrence Court, constructed in 1922. Author’s collection.

Architects preserved the pendant light fixtures in the arcades linking former barracks along the South Promenade. Author’s collection.

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The Journal of San Diego History

These barracks, built in 1923, will be renovated in the next phase of development: the NTC Promenade. Cast concrete units form the entrance arch to the arcade. Author’s collection.

The Sail Ho Golf Course was constructed in 1925 as a four-hole golf course averaging 250 yards per hole. It has undergone several expansions but is still considered a small, short distance course. Author’s collection.

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“Liberty Station” and the Naval Training Center in San Diego

A billboard advertises the opening of new shops and restaurants around Sellers Plaza and touts Liberty Station’s “Redevelopment Award of Merit” from the California Construction Magazine. Author’s collection.

The new homes at Liberty Station conform as much as possible to the historic architectural style of the NTC with similar roofing and color palettes. They also feature off-street garages, allowing for the creation of pedestrian walkways. Author’s collection.

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The Journal of San Diego History

Arcades outside the condominiums at Liberty Station reflect the architectural style of the former NTC barracks. Author’s collection.

The North Chapel at the NTC was built in 1942 as a non-denominational chapel for recruits and officers as well as those aboard military ships stationed at or visiting San Diego. Restoration by developer C. W. Clark preserved stained glass windows, ornate tile, and hand-carved pews. Author’s collection.

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“Liberty Station” and the Naval Training Center in San Diego

NOTES 1. William J. Williams, “Josephus Daniels and the U.S. Navy’s Shipbuilding Program During World War I,” The Journal of Military History 60, no. 1 (1996), 8. 2. Donald Raymond Craig, “Annotated Bibliography of the History of the United States Naval Training Center, San Diego, California,” masters thesis, University of San Diego College for Men, 1969, 2. 3. Abraham J. Shragge, “‘I Like the Cut of Your Jib’: Cultures of Accommodation Between the U.S. Navy and Citizens of San Diego, California, 1900-1951,” The Journal of San Diego History (hereafter JSDH) 48, no. 3 (2002): 230-255. See also Lucille Clark Duvall, “William Kettner: San Diego’s Dynamic Congressman,” JSDH 25, no. 3 (1979): 191-207. 4. Milford Wayne Donaldson, Guidelines for the Treatment of Historic Properties: Naval Training Center San Diego (San Diego: Prepared for McMillin NTC, LLC, and the City of San Diego, 2000), 1B-5-7. 5. Donaldson, Guidelines for the Treatment of Historic Properties, passim. 6. Duncan Hunter, a Republican member of the House of Representatives from California’s 52nd congressional district and chairman of the military procurement subcommittee, supported the Base Closure Community Redevelopment and Homeless Assistant Act of 1994 (Pub. L. 103-421) that amended the Stewart B. McKinney Homeless Assistance Act (Pub. L. 100-77). The Act of 1994 allowed local governments to obtain surplus military land for free if it was used to create new jobs and fill an economic gap caused by a base closure. It eliminated the provision in the McKinney Act that gave priority to community groups interested in providing shelter to homeless persons when it came to the disbursement of unused federal property. Brooke Williams, Augustin Armendariz, and Maureen Magee, “Boom for McMillin, Bust for City / The Old Naval Training Center Has Been Transformed into a Gleaming New Community, But the Developer’s Financial Pact with San Diego Proved Lopsided,” The San Diego Union-Tribune, March 3, 2007, A1, 7. Redevelopment Agency of the City of San Diego, “Redevelopment Plan for the Naval Training Center Redevelopment Project,” adopted May 13, 1997, Ordinance Number 0-18405. 8. Donaldson, Guidelines for the Treatment of Historic Properties, 3A-5. 9. According to its website, High Tech High School “began in 2000 as a single charter high school launched by a coalition of San Diego business leaders and educators. It has evolved into a school development organization with a growing portfolio of innovative charter schools spanning grades K-12.” http://www.hightechhigh.org/about/ (accessed February 21, 2008). 10. Ronald W. Powell, “NTC Should Be Used to House Homeless, Protesters Declare,” The San Diego Union-Tribune, February 5, 2000, B.4.7.B; Ronald W. Powell, “U.S. Halts Shift of NTC Land to City / Ancestral-home Suit by Tribes to be Heard First,” The San Diego Union-Tribune, May 12, 2000, B.1; Neil Morgan, “NTC is History: Its Land Barons Flashed Spirit to Build San Diego,” The San Diego UnionTribune, February 15, 2001, A.3; Williams, et. al., “Boom for McMillin, Bust for City”; Corky McMillan told reporters in late 1999, “I could build a lot more expensive homes. But the vision I have is Middle America, for folks working their way up in the world.” Brooke Williams, Augustin Armendariz, and Maureen Magee, “Million-Dollar America? Corky McMillin Envisioned the Old Navy Boot Camp Filled with Homes for ‘Folks Working Their Way Up,’ But It Became a Hotbed for Real Estate Investment,” The San Diego Union-Tribune, March 4, 2007, A1. 11. Pat Broderick, “Revamp of NTC Hailed as Model Base Closure,” San Diego Business Journal, June 27, 2005. 12. “Best of 2007, Southern California: Liberty Station Marketplace, Redevelopment Award of Merit” California Construction Magazine (December 2007), 39; Roger Showley, “Orchids & Onions Entwines High Roads with Low Roads,” The San Diego Union-Tribune, December 2, 2007.

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San Diego’s Sweetheart: Maureen Connolly Joey Seymour “I’ve got everything I want. Everything I’ve had, I got through tennis. It gave me a terribly exciting life. I met so many people in exalted positions. It opened so many doors and it’s still opening them. I’ve had a wonderful life. If I should leave tomorrow, I’ve had the experience of 20 people.”1 – Maureen Connolly Maureen Connolly was nationally recognized as a tennis star from San Diego in the 1950s. At age eleven, she was dubbed “Little Mo” by San Diego sports writer Nelson Fisher who claimed that her power forehand and backhand had the same firepower as the big guns of the USS Missouri, known as the “Big Mo.”2 The Associated Press named her Female Athlete of the Year for three consecutive years (1952, 1953, and 1954), an honor she achieved by developing a particularly aggressive style of play. After her career came to a crashing halt on July 20, 1954, when she was thrown from her horse, “Little Mo” continued to pack a great deal into her life. She frequently told people, “I’ve lived ten lives.” She was a tennis champion, newspaper reporter and author, wife, mother, restaurateur, sportinggoods spokeswoman, television and radio color commentator, philanthropist, and cancer victim, before dying at age thirty-four. The following article provides a retrospective look at the many lives of Maureen Connolly. Sixteen year-old Maureen Connolly practices at a public tennis court in San Diego, 1951. ©SDHS, UT#84:32877-1, Union-Tribune Collection.

Joey Seymour, a candidate for the Master of Arts degree in history at the University of San Diego, plans to continue writing about extraordinary San Diego athletes. He wishes to thank Billie Jean King for her contribution to this article and her friendship. In 2004, Joey published Tangled a thriller novel.

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San Diego’s Sweetheart: Maureen Connolly

Early Life in San Diego and the Making of a Champion On September 17, 1934, Jessamine and Martin Connolly awaited the birth of their first child at Mercy Hospital in San Diego. Martin, a lieutenant commander in the Navy, served as an athletic trainer. According to Arthur Voss, “Connolly had been a boxer and played baseball, football, and hockey, but not tennis.”3 Jessamine, who originally had hailed from Helena, Montana, danced and sang. Based on the baby’s “lusty heart-beat,” the obstetrician had assumed the newborn would be a boy. To everyone’s surprise, a little girl—Maureen Catherine Connolly—was born. The new parents brought their baby girl home to their red brick bungalow on Idaho Street in the North Park district of San Diego. The Connollys divorced when Maureen was only four. “My last memory of my father came when I was ill. He looked down at me, smiled and told me he would buy me a chocolate sundae, topped with nuts, when I recovered. We never heard from him, never knew where he might have gone.”4 Young Maureen was later told that he had died in an accident, a story that turned out to be false. Maureen’s mother, Jessamine, wanted her daughter to become the great musician and dancer that she herself never had the chance to become. According to Beverly Beyette, she was “the antithesis of the stage mother—a vacillating, indecisive woman, a frustrated would-be concert pianist who wound up playing for weddings and found vicarious pleasure in her daughter’s triumphs.”5 Maureen attempted ballet, singing, and piano lessons but, “on her way to more tom-boy pursuits on the University Heights Playground,” she stumbled across a tennis match being played by two local professionals, Gene Garrett and Arnie Saul. Enthralled by the sport, she soon learned that all she needed was “a racket in my hand to vanquish any little boy or girl in the neighborhood.”6 Maureen served as a ball girl for the local tennis professional, Wilbur Folsom, who later began instructing the motivated ten year-old. “Folsom taught Maureen the rudiments – how to serve, how to hit the forehand and backhand drives, and how to execute proper footwork.”7 She had an inexpensive tennis racket that cost her mother $1.50. Unlike most top tennis competitors who trained at private tennis clubs, Maureen played on public courts owned and operated by the City of San Diego. Her home court, the University Heights Playground at 4044 Idaho Street, was renamed the North Park Recreation Center in 1969. Her tournament career began in 1945 at the La Jolla Playground’s annual tennis tournament. Maureen, playing in the thirteen-and-under category, made it to the finals but lost to an older girl named Ann Bissell. With this loss came the development of an angry, competitive streak rarely discussed in articles or remembrances written about “Little Mo.” She wrote about it in Forehand Drive, an autobiography that she completed shortly after her career-ending accident: “I was no ordinary little girl, and tennis to me, even then, was much more than just a game. Defeat was unendurable; it could not be talked away by the sympathy of an understanding parent. It must be avenged! Beating Ann Bissell became my single goal in life.”8 Maureen did not love tennis but she hated losing. At ten years old, she feared that if she lost a match, no one would love her. Along with fear came anger. She would build up hatred for her opponent on the court in order to win. It is possible that both the abandonment of her father and the ambition of her mother helped

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A young Maureen Connolly prepares for a match. Courtesy of San Diego Hall of Champions.

to create this fierce attitude. According to one reporter, “She was like the other girls—small, slender, giggly, bands on the teeth, saying “sir” and “ma’am” when addressed by adults, but on the court, that was something else.”9 Maureen’s next tournament took place on her home court at University Heights Playground. Her first tournament victory was soured by the fact that Ann Bissell had not played. It was not until the 1946 Harper Ink Tournament that Maureen got a chance to face Bissell. The two girls competed in the final game of the tournament. The first set was a back-and-forth competition that Connolly eventually won 8-6. Seeking to embarrass her opponent, Little Mo bested Bissell in the next set, winning 6-2.10 Maureen won six more tournaments in 1946, competing in both the thirteenand-under and the fifteen-and-under divisions. In 1947 she captured five more titles to find herself ranked number two among Southern California’s girls under

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San Diego’s Sweetheart: Maureen Connolly fifteen-years-old. Wilbur Folsom had tutored Maureen to the best of his ability. She practiced with boys, hitting just as hard and running just as fast as they did. But in order for Maureen’s career to soar, she needed a new coach. Eleanor “Teach” Tennant was known throughout Southern California as one of the best, if not the best, tennis instructors in the region. She had coached champions such as Alice Marble, winner of five Grand Slam events between 1936 and 1940, and Bobby Riggs, best known for his Battle of the Sexes exhibition match versus Billie Jean King on September 20, 1973.11 Born in San Francisco in 1895, Tennant played tennis at the famous Golden Gate Park courts. She later became the resident professional at the upscale Beverly Hills Hotel, teaching some of the biggest names in Hollywood at the time. Carole Lombard gave her the nickname, “Teach.”12 Tennant met Maureen in 1948 and knew instantly that she had a potential star on her hands. Maureen, eager to learn, demonstrated her talent and dedication. Every weekend, she took the bus from San Diego to Beverly Hills to work with Tennant. However, she occasionally disagreed with, and disobeyed, her demanding teacher. One weekend, after she had received strict orders to practice, she was caught “rallying with actor Gilbert Roland, a friend who once took Maureen to the Tijuana bullfights and found himself with an almost inconsolable child on his hand when a horse was injured.” Scolded and sent home to San Diego, Maureen wrote a letter of apology and was immediately forgiven.13 Teach became a second mother to Maureen, teaching her about life, dress, and most importantly, tennis. She worked diligently to improve Maureen’s game. In 1948, Maureen won an impressive eighteen titles and was ranked as the number one girls singles player in Southern California. Tennant also encouraged the antagonism that Maureen felt for her opponents. She believed that tennis was not a game, but a fight. She would scout and analyze Maureen’s opponents. “Eleanor Tennant contributed to my hate complex,” she later wrote, “but there was fertile soil for the seed. She believed one should not make friends with opponents, one should remain aloof. I translated this into hating my foes. Miss Tennant, I am positive, had no idea a seed of hatred would flower in my breast with such a dark bloom.”14 For Maureen, the year 1949 was stellar on the court but difficult at home. She won nine titles, became the youngest girl ever to win the junior national title at the age of fourteen, and played in her first women’s tournament. However, her mother remarried a man whom she disliked. Her new stepfather, Auguste Berste, was a local musician who did not appreciate tennis. According to a journalist, “Her mother’s second husband opposed her obsession with the game, and the two clashed frequently.”15 Sports writers loved Maureen, describing her as a “killer in pigtails.” Her infectious smile and dazzling action pictures appeared in the local papers through 1950, when she won the national junior girls singles title and the doubles title with her partner and good friend Patsy Zellmer. She was ranked number nineteen among women players in the United States. The following year, 1951, her career took off.

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Tennis star Maureen Connelly, or “Little Mo,” in action. Courtesy of San Diego Hall of Champions.

The Championship Years Maureen Connolly became a national celebrity in the summer of 1951 at Forest Hills, New York, home of the U.S. Open.16 It was there that Eleanor Tennant concocted a devious ploy to further fuel Maureen’s anger at her opponents. Maureen was facing Doris Hart, her idol and one of the great tennis legends, in the semi-finals. Tennant feared that Maureen did not have a chance, so she told her that she had overheard Doris call her “a spoiled brat” and say that she was “gunning for her.” It was a lie, but it did the trick.17 It was an overcast New York day with a light drizzle. When the match on Center Court began, Maureen looked nothing like a champion. She later wrote, “I never hated anyone more in my life! I turned on her like a tiger, but despite my fury–I tried to knock the cover off the ball–I managed to lose the first four games.”18 But Little Mo’s rage and desire to destroy her opponent led to an epic comeback. Maureen won the next six games in a row, taking the set 6-4. In an exciting second set which saw Maureen take a 5-1 and seemingly insurmountable lead, Hart came roaring back to make it 5-4. Still, this was Little Mo’s moment and no one was going to stop her. She won the next game and the match. Sixteen-year-old Maureen made it to the finals of the U.S. Open where she

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San Diego’s Sweetheart: Maureen Connolly faced Shirley Fry, Hart’s best friend on the tour and a formidable opponent in her own right. Shirley wanted to avenge the loss of her friend and take the title. Connolly wanted it just a bit more—and so did Tennant. The opening two sets went smoothly. In the first set, Maureen dominated Shirley 6-3. Shirley returned to defeat Maureen 6-1. During the ten-minute break between sets, Tennant looked sternly into Maureen’s eyes. “You will have to control your hitting. To do that you’ll have to move faster and you’ll have to do it even if it kills you to win this set. Forget you’re tired. You’re in the big leagues now. You can’t submit to fatigue. Concentrate on your game…you must win!”19 And win she did. Maureen battled Fry and, at match point, rejoiced as Fry’s backhand return sailed out. Maureen was now the youngest U.S. Open Champion in history. Associated Press voted her Female Athlete of the Year and she was ranked as the number one women’s tennis player in the United States.20 On September 17, 1951, Time Magazine noted that even though “women’s tennis had been in the doldrums since 1941, when Alice Marble left the scene, a Forest Hills gallery last week stood up and cheered with new hope for a sturdy, rosy-cheeked girl who will not turn 17 until next week. Maureen Connolly clearly was a good notch above her tournament competition.”21 The year 1952 brought joy as well as sadness as “Little Mo” became an international star. She defeated archrival Doris Hart for her second consecutive U.S. Open title before venturing to London to play in the Wimbledon Championships. However, before she took her first step on the famous grass courts at the All England Lawn Tennis Club, she parted ways with Tennant over a medical diagnosis. After feeling a slight pain in her shoulder, Maureen visited a local trainer who had said she had a bit of bursitis and that a simple ointment would help. Tennant wanted another opinion. The two visited a chiropractor who claimed that Maureen had a torn muscle. Teach, not wanting her star pupil to risk further damage, told the press that Maureen would default the tournament. Maureen disagreed and, in an unprecedented move, called a press conference and told journalists, “Miss Tennant no longer represents my views.”22 Her daughter, Cindy Brinker Simmons, later wrote that this was a “first” in Wimbledon history: “No player had ever done this before. The press adored Mom, so when ‘Little Mo’ spoke, everybody came running.”23 She played brilliantly and disposed of her early round opponents only to find herself pitted against three-time Wimbledon champion, Louise Brough. She wrote, “I was nervous against Louise. I had beaten her at La Jolla, but before coming to Wimbledon she had trimmed me 5-8, 6-2, and 6-2, at the Southern California Tennis Championships in Los Angeles.”24 Little Mo had nothing to be nervous about for, after a spirited effort in the first set, Brough’s nerves got the best of her. Connolly became the world’s champion with a 7-5, 6-3 victory. However, by dismissing Tennant, she had lost an important and valuable figure in her life. She wrote, “Our quarrel on the eve of Wimbledon left me emotionally torn. It was difficult for a young girl to draw charity’s veil over bitterness, to rationalize, compensate and reconcile.”25 Maureen apologized to Teach in her autobiography but, according to Brinker, “they never spoke again. Still, all her life, Mom regretted the incident and its outcome.”26 Maureen met her next coach, Henry “Harry” Hopman, after her victory at Wimbledon. Captain-coach of twenty-two Australian Davis Cup teams between

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1939 and 1967, he would guide her through the next two years of her career. He and his wife helped her to change her attitude towards her opponents. Nell Hopman sat her down before an exhibition match in Australia and explained that her “tennis would not suffer if she cast off hate and fear.” Maureen disagreed since “this would be throwing away my two most potent weapons.”27 However, when matched against friend Julie Sampson, she found that she could no longer hate her opponent across the net. Instead, she focused only on her instincts and reflexes. For the first time in her career, Maureen Connolly enjoyed herself while competing on the tennis court. “Little Mo” arrives home victorious from her third Wimbledon, 1954. Maureen’s success in ©SDHS, UT #84:3219-1, Union-Tribune Collection. 1952 was impressive. She won two of the four major tournaments, Wimbledon and the U.S. Open, and the Associated Press once again voted her Female Athlete of the Year.28 San Diego, proud of its native daughter, welcomed her home with a parade, an honor, and a gift. An estimated fifteen thousand people lined Broadway in downtown San Diego to see the tennis star. Maureen, wearing a white dress, rode in the back of a white convertible. Mayor John D. Butler declared September 9, 1952 to be “Maureen Connolly Day” in San Diego. Supporters organized a Maureen Connolly Appreciation Fund with five hundred and sixty four contributors. She received a horse as a token of appreciation for “what she had done for the town, for the way she has made it a big name in the world.”29 Maureen selected a majestic Tennessee walking horse named Colonel Merryboy. In 1953, Maureen became engaged to Norman Brinker who, at that time, served in the U.S. Navy. According to one journalist, “The courtship was marked by partings and reunions—when he came home from the Western Pacific during the Korean War, when she came back from the European tournament circuit. There was a religious conflict; she was Roman Catholic, he a Methodist. But when she returned, triumphant, from her 1953 victory at Wimbledon, they drove to Balboa Park one night and he slipped a diamond ring on her finger.”30 The couple decided

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San Diego’s Sweetheart: Maureen Connolly to make a formal announcement after she returned from Europe. Maureen’s games at the Australian Championship, where she defeated Julie Sampson 6-3, 6-2, and French Open revealed her to be an accomplished player and a mature woman. In Paris, she faced Doris Hart, her former foe and now friend, whom she defeated 6-2, 6-4. She then traveled to London to defend the Wimbledon title. On January 6, 1953, she again played Hart in the finals match. The two competed in what the press described as an emotional war. Doris was determined not to allow Maureen to defeat her this time. Maureen recalled that they both “went for broke.” She took the first set 8-6 with only one point, set point, separating their point total. The second set would be the same. Maureen won the set 7-5, once again with only one point, championship point, being the difference. As the two champions walked off the court, Doris leaned over to Maureen and said, “this is the first time in my life I have lost a match and still felt as though I had won it.”31 The Connolly-Hart match was described as one of the greatest women’s finals ever played at Wimbledon. Neville Deed writing for The Racquet, stated: “The allAmerican final will go down in history as one of the best women’s matches ever played anywhere. In any experience, which goes back to the 1910 Wimbledon, I do not remember there to have been a better one. It was the perfect pattern of how the game should be played.”32 English footballer David Jack told the Empire News: “It was a privilege to be a spectator…it must have been one of the greatest women’s matches ever played.”33 Unfortunately, Maureen’s joy did not last long. She received a telephone call from her good friend, San Diego Union sportswriter Nelson Fisher, who informed her that her fiancé Norman Brinker was being shipped-out to Korea. She broke down and wept. Maureen returned to San Diego to prepare for the U.S. Open. She found, to her surprise that Norman had not yet shipped out. They had only a few hours but their time together gave her renewed confidence. At the U.S. Open, Maureen faced a newcomer on the circuit, Althea Gibson, the first African American woman to play at the tournament. Maureen wrote, “It is my conviction that any championship tournament would become a travesty if a great player were barred for reasons of color or race. I liked Althea and our relationship had been friendly.”34 In the final, she faced a familiar rival, Doris Hart, to capture the title 6-2, 6-4. She became the first woman to win the Calendar Year Grand Slam of Tennis after taking the title at the Australian Championships, French Open, Wimbledon, and the U.S. Open and the only one to do it without losing a single set.35 She captured fourteen titles in 1953 while still just eighteen-years-old. On learning that the Associated Press, once again, voted her Female Athlete of the Year, Maureen said, “I am very, very grateful to those who voted for me and I shall try to deserve it by playing my best in 1954.”36 The year started out well. She won all ten tournaments in which she played, including the 1954 Wimbledon Championship defeating Louise Brough 6-2, 7-5. It was her third consecutive Wimbledon title. Jack Murphy, writing for the San Diego Union, noted: “Little Mo gave another fine exhibition of controlled tennis, almost mechanical in its efficiency, to overcome her 31-year old opponent.”37 Maureen was ranked number one in the world and nothing would bring her down—nothing except a horse and a cement truck driver.

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The Accident Sports writer Nelson Fisher reported on July 21, 1954: Little Mo, a columnist for the San Diego Union, had returned home Monday morning after winning her second National Clay Court title and her third Wimbledon crown. Almost the first thing she did was to ride her horse, Colonel Merryboy, which was given to her two years ago after she won her first Wimbledon title. In an interview before she went into surgery, Little Mo said: ‘We were riding along the road (on Friars Road in Mission Valley). We stopped our horses as the truck approached. Colonel Merryboy shied and whirled into the truck. My leg was caught between my horse and the truck.38

Connolly testifies during her trial vs. the Cement Mixing company whose truck driver caused her career-ending accident. Pictured with Maureen is her attorney, Melvin H. Belli. Courtesy of San Diego Hall of Champions.

Maureen broke her fibula and tore some muscles in the accident, which took place at 1:30 p.m. on July 20. A nurse, Kathryn Walker, who happened to be on her way to work, watched the scene unfold and rushed to aid the fallen tennis star.

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San Diego’s Sweetheart: Maureen Connolly Maureen was taken to Mercy Hospital and was operated on by Dr. Bruce Kimball. After the surgery, Kimball told reporters that Maureen would not be able to play for a month. However, he did not feel the injury would cost her career.39 Among all the well-wishers who visited the hospital was her father. She recalled, “A well-set-up man, with short grey hair, wearing a neat brown suit, came into my room. We looked at each other for a moment, then I was in my father’s arms. Only because of my accident had he stepped across the chasm of years. It was a joyous reunion, the beginning of a new and wonderful relationship.”40 She did not hear from her fiancé, Norman Brinker, who was overseas and had not yet learned of the accident. Although Maureen had all the ambition and willpower necessary to rehabilitate herself, she could not overcome her injuries. She took ballet lessons to help regain her strength and agility. She also returned to the tennis court in order to preserve her powerful back and forehand, though she avoided running. She thought that she might return to competition until, in an exhibition match with Les Stoefen in January 1955, she attempted to reach a tricky drop shot and felt shooting pains through her right leg. She knew the result. Soon afterward, she announced with sadness that her career was over. Billie Jean King noted, “It was sad she had to retire so early because we don’t know how many more major titles she could have won. It would have been great to see her compete against Tracy Austin or Chris Evert, or even at the other end of the spectrum against Martina Navratilova.”41 Instead, she found a new life as a wife, mother, sportswriter, and entrepreneur.

Maureen Connolly married Norman Brinker on June 11, 1955. ©SDHS UT #84:3222-1, Union-Tribune Collection.

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Life After Tennis Maureen’s fiancé, Norman Brinker, also suffered a serious accident while horseback riding. After his discharge from the service, he had traveled to Hungary with the United States Modern Pentathlon team. While he had been chosen for his horsemanship, he also proved to be a strong runner, swimmer, shooter, and fencer. During the competition, Norman was on his horse preparing for the first jump. “I was low, but as we approached the jump, my horse flattened out a bit, and when he leaped he miscalculated, making his jump too soon. He hit the top of the logs, fell and slid…as we slid along the horse’s head hit my shoulder and shattered it.”42 Norman, then twenty-three years old, was laid up in bed. He became a minor celebrity in Hungary. When Maureen heard the news of Norman’s accident while at her desk at the San Diego Union, she wrote to him at once and professed her love. When he returned home, they renewed their faltering romance and married on June 11, 1955. Teddy Tinling, who had created most of her tennis outfits, designed her wedding gown. Maureen recalled, “The bishop deviated from the usual marriage ceremony by giving a short talk about Norman and me as an ideal young couple – both accomplished athletes, each a credit to the world of sport. It was not planned; it flowed from his heart.”43 Their honeymoon took them to Europe where Maureen was beginning her career as a reporter. She wrote about the 1955 Wimbledon championship for the London Daily Mail. She felt strange not to be playing, but she described herself as happy with her new life. Maureen’s accident did not defeat her. She believed that her post-tennis career and family life gave her the satisfaction of a life lived by “ten people.” Soon after her marriage, Little Mo became “Little Mom” with two daughters, Cindy and Brenda. She also wrote sports columns and served on the board of Wilson Sporting Goods Company. Her husband, meanwhile, operated several successful “Jack-inthe-Box” restaurants.44 Although her injuries did not allow her to play competitive tennis, she was able to play in one-set exhibition matches. Crowds turned out to get a glimpse of Little Mo. According to one writer, “Even after her retirement, when hobbled by injury, Maureen fascinated San Diego’s Community Concourse. She made believers out of persons to whom she was only a legend. In the concourse, she routed Nancy Kiner, 8-2, on a slick wood surface, which was expected to favor Nancy, who had won three indoor titles on that type of footing years previously. Nancy was more impressed than anybody. ‘Once you’ve got it, you never lose it,’ Nancy gasped.”45 Maureen also served as a radio and television commentator. Billie Jean King remembered her “as being such a winner” and “also very smart. I liked the fact that she came from a public park background. As a player she was extremely tenacious and a great striker of the ball. Years later I learned that the first year I won Wimbledon in singles (1966) she was the commentator for BBC. That was a great moment for me when I heard her voice on tape as we were going through video for the HBO documentary Portrait of a Pioneer.”46 In 1958, Maureen won a settlement against the company that operated the cement-mixer truck, which prematurely ended her career. The case went through several appeals before the California Supreme Court finally awarded Maureen $110,734, the largest personal injury award ever granted, up to that time, in San

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“Little Mo” becomes “Little Mom.” Pictured are Maureen Connolly-Brinker, Norman Brinker, and newborn Cindy Brinker, 1957. ©SDHS, UT #84:1584-5, Union Tribune Collection.

Diego. Unfortunately, the result was a great deal of negative publicity for Maureen. The citizens who had given her the horse now attacked her for riding it. She wrote, “Many people could not understand why I should have won an award in court. I had not been crippled. On the surface, at least, I appeared quite normal. ‘What was she doing on a horse?’ was the comment of some.”47 She was devastated by the popular reaction, particularly since she had done so much to promote the image of the city. Soon afterward, the Brinker family moved to Dallas, Texas, where Maureen turned her attention to education. She became an undergraduate at Southern Methodist University in 1964. Her husband recalled, “Maureen was not able to get a college degree because of her tennis career. So when she finally went, she was a student par excellence. She managed to complete about two years worth of courses at SMU, going mainly at night, before her health deteriorated too far. She attacked college with the same concentration she displayed on the tennis courts.”48 She also helped her husband with his new business, Brinks Coffee Shop in Dallas. A journalist noted, “Now Maureen is lending a helping hand in the opening of a fancy coffee shop, the family’s first venture into business for themselves and one they hope to make the first of a chain of moderate priced restaurants in and out of Dallas.”49 Later, Norman created the Steak & Ale Restaurant and Bennigan’s Grill & Tavern, both of which became successful chains. During this time, Maureen gave tennis lessons to youngsters. She enjoyed teaching and worked with her daughter, Cindy, who would later become a ranked collegiate player.

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The Brinker family visited Sea World prior to one of Maureen’s final exhibition matches, 1968. Pictured are Maureen Connolly-Brinker, Norman Brinker, Cindy Brinker, and Brenda Brinker. ©SDHS, UT #85:H689-1, Union-Tribune Collection.

In 1968, she co-founded the Maureen Connolly Brinker Tennis Foundation to provide funds for tennis clinics and to aid juniors who could not afford to compete nationally. Her good friend, Nancy Jeffett, became her partner in this venture and continues to serve as co-founder and chairman emeritus.50 Every year, the foundation sponsors six junior tournaments and three tournaments for women. Billie Jean King said of the foundation, “Her legacy continues through the Maureen Connolly Brinker Foundation. Nancy Jeffett and everyone at the foundation have done a great job to ensure that girls have an opportunity to compete in our sport at the highest levels. The foundation is definitely one of a kind and a great reflection on Maureen’s contribution to tennis.”51 Unfortunately, Little Mo did not live to see her foundation thrive. On May 21, 1969, Maureen Connolly lost her battle with cancer. She was thirty-four years old. At her funeral service, Reverend Robert N. Watkin, Jr. remarked, “It takes courage to come back from an 0-5 set on the tennis courts. It takes courage to come back from a terrible horseback riding accident to lead a full life. And it takes courage to face almost certain death with her chin held high. She had the courage.”52 A year before she died, knowing that her cancer was inoperable, she went to the bedside of her childhood friend and former doubles partner, Patsy Zellmer, who also was

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San Diego’s Sweetheart: Maureen Connolly dying of cancer. According to one author, “She had the guts to go and try to cheer her up. That was the only experience that unnerved her a little.”53 Maureen’s tombstone reads, “Wife, Mother, Champion,” but she was much more than that. She was a complicated and hurt girl who used her inner rage to propel her to greatness in the tennis world; a mature champion who was able to let go of the pain, anger, hatred, and fear; a wife who helped her husband to create successful businesses; a mother who nurtured and educated her young daughters; a businesswoman; a respected television and radio personality; an author who published two books and wrote numerous articles, and the co-founder of a foundation that continues to help young players today. This was San Diego’s sweetheart. This was Maureen Connolly.

NOTES 1. Dave Gallup, “Tennis Great ‘Mo’ Connolly Dies in Dallas,” San Diego Union, May 22, 1969. 2. Jerry Magee, “Connolly’s feel for the game made her huge on the tennis court.” San Diego UnionTribune, December 21, 1999. 3. Arthur Voss, “Give ‘Em Hell, Mo!” San Diego Union, November 10, 1988. 4. Maureen Connolly, Forehand Drive (London: MacGibbon and Kee, 1957), 10. 5. Beverly Beyette, “The Legend of ‘Little Mo’,” Los Angeles Times, September 5, 1978. 6. Gallup, “Tennis Great ‘Mo’ Connolly Dies in Dallas”; Connolly, Forehand Drive, 12. 7. Voss, “Give ‘Em Hell, Mo!” 8. Connolly, Forehand Drive, 14. 9. Joe Brooks, “Little Mo’s Tennis Game was Simply Devastating,” San Diego Union, June 13, 1974. 10. Roy Edwards, “This is Maureen…” Tournament Program for Maureen Connolly Brinker Mixed Doubles Charity Tournament at the Dallas Country Club, May 24–25, 1968. This piece on Maureen includes her statistical record of wins, losses, and opponents from 1945 to 1954. Each score represented in this essay can be found here. 11. Beyette, “The Legend of Little Mo.” 12. Ibid. 13. Ibid. 14. Connolly, Forehand Drive, 27. 15. Alec Morrison, “The Magnificent Little Mo,” Sports Illustrated, August 27, 2001. The article can be accessed through Sports Illustrated archives online: http://sportsillustrated.cnn.com/features/ cover/01/0827/ 16. The tournament moved to Flushing Meadows in Queens, New York in 1978. 17. Morrison, “The Magnificent Little Mo.” 18. Connolly, Forehand Drive, 50. 19. Ibid., 52. 20. Norman Bell, “Li’l Mo Wins Third Female Athlete of the Year, Flo 2nd Again,” San Diego Union, January 9, 1954. 21. “Young Queen,” Time Magazine, September 17, 1951, 52. Vol. LVIII No. 12.

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The Journal of San Diego History 22. Voss, “Give ‘Em Hell, Mo!” 23. Cindy Brinker-Simmons, Little Mo’s Legacy: A Mother’s Lessons. A Daughter’s Story (Irving, Texas: Tapestry Press, 2001), 100. 24. Connolly, Forehand Drive, 61. 25. Ibid., 17. 26. Brinker-Simmons, Little Mo’s Legacy: A Mother’s Lessons. A Daughter’s Story, 100. 27. Connolly, Forehand Drive, 78. 28. A History of Women in Sports Timeline giving all Associated Press women athletes of the year beginning in 1931 can be accessed at: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Associated_Press_Athlete_of_the_Year 29. Voss, “Give ‘Em Hell, Mo!” 30. Beyette, “The Legend of Little Mo.” 31. Connolly, Forehand Drive, 84. 32. Ibid. 33. Ibid. 34. Connolly, Forehand Drive, 88. 35. Margaret Smith Court won the calendar year grand slam in 1970, but lost a set to Rosemary Casals at the U.S. Open and Stefi Graf accomplish the slam in 1988, but lost a set to Martina Navratilova at Wimbledon and another to Gabriela Sabatini at the U.S. Open. However, Graf is the only player to win the Golden Slam, by adding a Gold Medal from the 1988 Olympics in Seoul, Korea. 36. Bell, “Li’l Mo Wins Third Female Athlete of the Year, Flo 2nd Again,” San Diego Union, January 9, 1954. 37. Jack Murphy, “Maureen Annexes 3rd Wimbledon Net Crown,” San Diego Union, July 4, 1954. 38. Nelson Fisher, “Maureen Connolly Injured on Horse,” San Diego Union, July 21, 1954. 39. Ibid. 40. Connolly, Forehand Drive, 101. 41. Billie Jean King, interviewed by author, Newport Beach, CA, October 10, 2007. Billie Jean King, a legend in the world of tennis, won twelve Grand Slam titles during her reign on the tennis courts from 1966 to 1975. She defeated Bobby Riggs in the famous “Battle of the Sexes” match on September 20, 1973. Today she runs the World Team Tennis league and participates in many philanthropic endeavors. 42. Connolly, Forehand Drive, 104. 43. Ibid., 110. 44. Beyette, “Legend of Little Mo.” 45. Gallup, “Tennis Great ‘Mo’ Connolly Dies in Dallas.” 46. Billie Jean King, interviewed by author, Newport Beach, CA, October 10, 2007. 47. Connolly, Forehand Drive, 113. 48. Brinker-Simmons, Little Mo’s Legacy: A Mother’s Lesson’s. A Daughter’s Story, 57. 49. “Little Mo Goes to College,” San Diego Union, May 28, 1964. 50. Maureen Connolly Brinker Tennis Foundation, http://www.mcbtennis.org/ (accessed February 21, 2008). 51. Billie Jean King, interviewed by author, Newport Beach, CA, October 10, 2007. 52. “Funeral Rites Salute ‘Little Mo,’” San Diego Union, May 22 1969. 53. Beyette, “Legend of Little Mo.”

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Life Beyond Gold: A New Look at the History of Julian, California Kathryn A. Jordan In the mid-nineteenth century, mining towns appeared throughout California only to become ghost towns as miners hurried to new deposits elsewhere, leaving abandoned buildings in their wake. The town of Julian, founded during a gold strike in 1869, did not disappear but, instead, became a community. Men and women chose to stay in Julian because of the close relationships that developed among families and the viability of agriculture, particularly apples, in the region. This article describes the founding of Julian and examines the factors that allowed the town to survive beyond the Gold Rush years.1 According to local folklore, Native Americans living in the Cuyamaca Mountains knew about gold deposits in the surrounding hills but kept it a secret until they could use it to their advantage. Eventually, they began trading gold dust for trinkets from padres at Santa Ysabel Mission and, later, showed them where gold could be mined.2 A more credible tradition suggests that A. E. (Fred) Coleman, a former slave, first discovered gold near present day Julian in January 1869. Coleman, who previously mined in northern California, lived with an Indian family near Wynola, about four miles southwest of the Santa Ysabel ranch. While watering his horse in a creek, he noticed a reflective material in the creek bed. He panned through water, stone and soil, and exposed a few small nuggets of gold. He quickly formed the Coleman mining district and nearby Emily City mining town. Word quickly spread to the surrounding hills and San Diego.3 Later that year, four cousins, Drury and James Bailey and Mike and Webb Julian, arrived in Temecula from their home state of Georgia. On their way from Nevada to the Southern California coast, the men learned of proposed plans for a Pacific Railroad line from Yuma, Arizona, to San Diego. Short on supplies, they sent James to San Diego to obtain both rations and information about the railroad. On his return, James met Mr. Harrall, a resident of the Cuyamacas, who was headed to San Diego to trade bacon for supplies. Harrall told him that the land in the Cuyamacas had abundant wild hogs and unpanned streams. The cousins figured that there would not be work in San Diego until the railroad was completed so they headed back to Arizona. While crossing the Cuyamacas in November 1869, Drury Bailey decided to homestead there. The others also stayed and, the following spring, planted barley on land that would become the town of Julian.4 Kathryn Jordan, a candidate for the Master of Arts degree in history at the University of San Diego, plans to compare the histories of Julian, Big Bear and Calico to show why Julian and Big Bear survived after the mining declined. She thanks Dr. Iris Engstrand, the San Diego Historical Society, and the San Diego County Library, Julian branch, for their assistance.

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In February 1870 two separate gold deposits were discovered near the Baileys’ camp. Drury Bailey uncovered a quartz ledge, “Warrior’s Rest,” a few days before H. C. Bickers discovered what would become the Washington Mine.5 Together the men formed the Julian Mining District on February 15, 1870, in order to protect the interests of the growing number of miners in the area. The district appointed Mike Julian as its first district recorder. Around this time, Drury Bailey titled the town “Julian” after his cousin, Mike, because he was the most handsome man in town, and it sounded better than “Bailey” for a town name. By March, twenty claims had been filed and the San Diego Union began running reports of gold, encouraging the migration of prospectors to Julian and the surrounding Cuyamaca towns like Branson City, Eastwood, and Coleman City (formerly Emily City).6 Quickly, landowners moved to try to control the goldmines. Robert Allison, John Treat, Juan Manual Luco and Isaac Hartman had bought land south of Julian from Don Agustin Olvera in 1869, intending to use it for lumber and grazing.7 News of gold caused them to reevaluate their plan. Two months after the formation of the Julian Mining District, Luco and the other men began legal proceedings to alter the boundaries of the Cuyamaca Grant in order to include the gold fields within their property lines. Sherman Day, U.S. Surveyor-General for California, directed Deputy Surveyor James Pascoe to conduct a government survey but it soon became apparent that Luco and Treat influenced Pascoe to alter the grant boundaries. On May 25, 1870, the grant owners met with the Julian miners and offered a compromise: mining could continue so long as royalties were paid to the grant owners for any gold extracted. The miners quickly rejected this idea, knowing some mines would be taxed up to fifty percent of their earnings.8 Within that week, Julian and San Diego residents met at Horton Hall in San Diego to discuss action against the grant owners. Julian residents initiated what would become a long legal battle for access to the goldmines. They formed a committee known as the Defense League and began fundraising for the payment of legal fees to attorney George Yale. Soon afterward, Judge Benjamin I. Hayes began working independently on the miners’ behalf. By January 1, 1871, Hayes assumed full legal responsibility for the case from Yale. Throughout the summer of 1870 he conducted a field survey of the area, visited and interviewed Indians and settlers in the region, and documented his findings. Around the same time, the Defense League hired engineer Charles J. Fox to conduct a survey of the Cuyamaca Grant. Fox discovered, as expected, the grant boundaries ended roughly six miles south of the Julian mines. In order to pay for legal fees accumulated by the efforts, miners contributed a dollar each month and held fundraisers like dances and cake sales for the cause. The entire town celebrated when the new U.S. Surveyor General for California, J. R. Hardenbergh, closed the case on April 5, 1871, without changing the boundaries of the grant. However, the grant owners managed to have the case reopened in November 1872 on a technicality. In the end, however, the miners prevailed and the matter was closed indefinitely on April 25, 1873. President Ulysses S. Grant approved the official land grant boundaries on December 19, 1874.9 Julian survived beyond the mining boom due to the large number of women and families, not just single men, who migrated to the region. One local historian suggested that Julian did not became a “ghost town” like other California mining camps largely because “the women of the families, and the men not actively

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Life Beyond Gold: A New Look at the History of Julian, California

Children and their teachers gather in front of the Julian schoolhouse, ca. 1890. ©SDHS #80:7545.

engaged in mining, had found that the soil was miraculously productive. Many of the families chose to stay in the district.”10 Several women in town managed their own hotels or boarding houses for miners. Jennie Garrett Lane, who was known as “Grandma Lane” throughout the town, ran a boarding house and worked as a midwife. Margaret Tull Robinson ran the Hotel Robinson with her husband, Albert. After Albert’s death, Margaret continued to run the hotel herself until the Jacobs family purchased it around 1919.11 As a teenager Helen Jacobs helped do “everything” around the hotel. She waited tables, cooked in the bakery and café, and washed dishes. When the hotel was busy, Annie Grosskopf, a Canadian Indian known in town as Cris Cross Annie, also helped do odd jobs around the hotel. While men worked predominantly in the mines, women kept stores and hotels open for business.12 A school for the children lent an aura of permanence to the town. James Jasper noted “people always flock to a new gold camp; not men alone, but women as well, and where there are women there are children; schools must be provided, and you can trust the miners for that.”13 Julian’s first school opened its doors in 1870; a school in neighboring Banner followed in 1872. At the time, students used outhouses and a wood-burning stove. In a letter from Julian to northern California, one new resident noted “the place is assuming an apparent permanence, since the discovery of the mines. There is a large and commodious school-house and an organized school district, numbering over 100 children of school age, with school in operation, and every Sunday, as Mrs. Partington says, we hear the ‘gospel dispensed with.’”14 The first school year began May 15, 1870, and closed June 30, 1870. For seven weeks of teaching, the teacher earned $450, nearly as much as she would make in the following school year. An average of twenty-seven students attended in this month and a half. Many men and women met their future partners in Julian. Teachers, often

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America Newton, a former slave from Independence, Missouri, owned an 80-acre homestead near Julian and provided laundry services to the town. She is pictured here, ca. 1910. ©SDHS #11109.

young, unmarried women, were sought after by single miners. The first Banner teacher, Edith Shaw, married Isaac Ijams shortly after her tenure. Her successor Elizabeth Kelly married Chester Gunn. Susan Stormes, Julian’s first teacher, married Charles Leonard Evans in 1874. According to Jasper, “the last wedding caused the trustees of both districts to declare a boycott of school marms,” but after the bachelor miners threatened the trustees, “the trustees realizing their danger, revoked the boycott and a feast and dancing followed putting an end to the rebellion.”15 Many of the couples who met in Julian remained and raised their families in the area. Julian’s melting pot of ethnicities contributed to a vital business community that included a cabinetmaker, painter, farmer, hatter, druggist, brick mason, cooper, blacksmith, and baker. Census records indicate that English, Polish, Welsh, Jewish, Italian, and African American residents called Julian home in the town’s earliest days. “Count” Dwarskowski, who claimed descent from Polish nobility, owned one of the town’s general stores. Joseph Swycaffer ran the town’s only butcher shop.16 America Newton, a former slave from Independence, Missouri, was also well known around town. She made her living washing clothes, and she was often seen riding in her buggy with clean laundry to be delivered. Albert and Margaret Robinson, an African American couple who met in Julian, owned and operated the Hotel Robinson. Employees remembered Mrs. Robinson as “very prim and energetic” but “quiet-spoken.” According to one local, they were considered to be “fine colored people.”17 Native Americans and Chinese did not fare as well as other ethnic groups

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Life Beyond Gold: A New Look at the History of Julian, California

The Wilcox store in Julian served as a general store, post office, and stage coach stop, ca. 1885. ©SDHS #3593-G.

in Julian. Indians sold fruits and vegetables to miners and worked as laborers on road building projects. White residents could be intolerant of their behavior, particularly when they violated social norms. In August 1890 James Jasper wrote the Sentinel that “the mob of drunken Indians of last Sunday…was a disgrace to the town.”18 There were few Chinese residents due to prejudice against them. The 1870 census reported only one “domestic servant” of Asian descent. Some restaurants and hotels, even twenty years after the discovery of gold, advertised that they did not employ Chinese cooks. The Chinese who lived in Julian in the late nineteenth century eventually moved to more tolerant communities in San Diego and Los Angeles.19 Julian hosted a small but stable number of downtown businesses. A San Diego Union article noted “Julian is what may be called a ‘rising town,’ not only with reference to its altitude, but as to its rapid settlement and building up.”20 Six hundred people populated the town soon after the discovery of gold and more arrived over the next few years. Between 1870 and 1880, Julian boasted two hotels, five stores, two cafes, two blacksmith shops, two livery stables and several saloons. The town did not, however, have a bank until September 1870. In their absence, general stores served as banks. Markets in San Diego and Los Angeles gave credit to the stores in Julian for the gold deliveries they received and the stores, in turn, gave credit to the miners to use for groceries or, the most widely purchased good, alcohol. Historian Helen Ellsberg noted, “Aside from the difficulty of bringing in such store-bought supplies as coffee, sugar, and flour, living was easy in the mountains.”21 Boarding houses and hotels catered to Julian’s growing population. Before that, people slept in tents. Emily City, for example, was considered a “tent city” prior to the creation of boarding houses in the area. The Pioneer Hotel, run by Mrs. M. A. Clough, “could accommodate forty guests, who, the year before, would have been sleeping outdoors.”22 George and Katherine Hoskings built and ran the Julian Hotel (not to be confused with the Hotel Robinson). After George’s death in 1874,

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The Julian Hotel, built in 1872, was operated by George and Katherine Hoskings. The hotel burned down around 1900 and its name was later adopted by the owners of the Hotel Robinson. ©SDHS #3592-G.

Katherine remarried and continued running the hotel until her death in 1885. As a young teenager, Suzie Taylor McPherson waited tables for Mrs. Hoskings at her hotel. By the age of sixteen, she had taken management of the Pioneer Hotel, renamed it the Mountain View Hotel, and ran it for George Keener, the property owner.23 Restaurants served as working kitchens for everyday meals as well as places of entertainment. The Hotel Robinson had a number of “regulars” who relied on Mrs. Margaret Robinson’s cooking for their sustenance. Joe Marks, Dr. Hildreth, the stagecoach driver, a salesman named Drummers, and a number of teachers visited the restaurant on almost a daily basis. Similarly, “Mother Lane” ran a miners’ boarding house where “she…cooked for more miners and fed more hungry people free than any woman in California.”24 While she may not have profited from her generosity, word of her cooking spread and contributed to her reputation for good, hearty meals. Police Captain Francis Marion Hopkins served dual roles as saloon owner and policeman. He even held court in his bar and managed to “dispense justice and whiskey in the same room without mixing results.” A newspaper correspondent writing under a fictitious name, Nil Desperandum, described Julian in this way: “Though the town is not very extensive, when we come to think that it has been settled but little over two years, its size and the completeness of its amusement resources, is surprising.”25 Transportation to and from San Diego also helped business in the mountain town. Joseph Yancey originally moved his family to Julian from Georgia in 1870, not for gold, but to raise horses. He used his horses to transport ore between the mines and stamp mills, and merchandise between Julian and San Diego. Before consistent mail delivery, Chester Gunn operated a pony express mail service from Julian to San Diego beginning in April 1871. Because he traveled alone, he could take trails and short cuts that wagons could not, thus cutting down delivery time. Gunn charged “ten cents a letter and carried letters and small packages,” and

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Life Beyond Gold: A New Look at the History of Julian, California

James Madison’s orchard and home, 1890. Madison and Thomas Brady are credited with bringing the first apple seedlings to Julian in the 1870s. ©SDHS #3593.

received a fair amount of business because people wanted reliable mail service, even for a small fee. Demand for a pony express service eventually disappeared as stages began to make the trek from San Diego to Julian in a single day. Regardless of the method, speed of delivery improved, thus benefiting both personal and business communications.26 Eventually, news of new gold discoveries in Arizona and Nevada drew miners away from Julian and the population dropped to around one hundred by the mid- to late 1870s. Nevertheless, the town survived. In 1881, the Julian and Banner mining districts combined to form the new Julian district. The discovery of the Gold King and Gold Queen mines in 1888 gave new life to mining and a boost to the town’s businesses.27 Julian’s continued prosperity had a good deal to do with its apple, and later pear, orchards. James Madison migrated to San Diego from the east coast in 1867 looking for land suitable for raising horses. He recognized the soil and climate would be suitable for growing apples. Madison Certificate awarding W. L. Detrick of Julian a gold medal for his and Thomas Brady planted apples at the Louisiana Purchase Exposition in St. Louis, 1904. ©SDHS #91:18564-1230. the first apple trees in Julian

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The Julian Chamber of Commerce celebrated the continuing prosperity of the town by sponsoring a float in the Julian Apple Days Parade, October 4, 1959. ©SDHS UT #85:a5063, Union-Tribune Collection.

in the 1870s. The San Diego Union reported the news of Madison’s apple harvest on November 11, 1880. One former resident remembered, “everybody went to agriculture” after mining production halted in the late 1890s. The Baileys, Wellingtons, and Horace Wilcox all planted large orchards around that time. Productive harvests helped Julian apples win eight gold medals in 1907 at the Jamestown Virginia Exposition.28 Close-knit friendships and an active social life kept people from leaving Julian. With what appears to have been a light-hearted, pioneer spirit, residents seemed to genuinely enjoy one another’s company. According to one early historian, “Julian was never the ‘hell roarin’ town that is commonly associated with mining camps.” Horace Fenton Wilcox remembered “during the gold rush Julian and Banner was pretty tough places, but I reckon they wasn’t any tougher’n most minin’ camps of that time. Every other place of business was a saloon, a gamblin’ joint, or a dance hall; but on the whole things was pretty orderly…respectable women was perfectly safe.”29 One visitor from San Diego returned to the city and noted, “the mountain people understand life. When they have a ‘time,’ they have a good time.”30 Practical jokes occurred with regularity. Tom Daley, the town butcher, allowed a German couple, Waldemar and Maggie Wilson, to live in the back of his shop. Waldemar mined for a living and Maggie raised and sold chickens in town. Daley thought it funny to take Maggie’s chickens without her knowledge in an attempt to fluster her. Before Daley could have a good laugh, he noticed the eggs from his own chicken coops were gone. Maggie had gotten the best of him. Drury Bailey, notorious for his sense of humor, left a town dance early one evening and snuck back into the room where all the babies belonging to party goers slept. Thinking it funny to move the children from crib to crib, he switched them around and hopped on the last stage out of town to the county seat in San Diego. When the

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Life Beyond Gold: A New Look at the History of Julian, California dance ended, the mothers picked up their babies and headed home, not knowing that they had taken another woman’s child. It was not until Drury returned three days later to explain his mischief that they mothers were able to sort out the confusion. Engaged couples like Lucy Wilcox and George Dannals even tried to keep their romance a secret because they did not want to be victims of a prank.31 The most popular and frequent social gatherings in Julian revolved around dancing. The Wilcox family usually provided the music. Horace Fenton Wilcox played the bass viol, his father the fiddle, and the Wilcox daughters played the piano. Mr. Wilcox used this as a supplemental source of income when his mine was not producing. Some dances were thrown for the simple purpose of dancing. Other times, dances were held as fundraisers for a new town hall or road construction. James Jasper recalled, “In pioneer days everyone danced in Julian… there were more than the usual number of matrons with young babies. The dance hall was fully equipped with a ladies dressing room in which the babies were put to bed, while the mothers ‘tripped the light fantastic toe.’”32 Often, the Julian Sentinel announced the details of an upcoming dance, and followed up with a report on the dance’s success in fundraising along with details about what was served for dinner. The St. Patrick’s Day dance in 1891, for instance, began around 9:30 p.m., and continued until 12:00 midnight, at which time the thirty couples present ate supper at Mrs. Williamson’s restaurant. Following their fest, “dancing was again resumed and continued till 4:30 in the morning.” The dance, held as a fundraiser for a new floor, raised about $15.33 Church attendance provided another form of fellowship among townspeople.

Alice Genevieve Barnes (Mrs. Franklin), pictured by an apple tree in April 15, 1959, grew up in early twentiethcentury Julian. Her reminiscences about everyday life, social relationships, and local businesses, made a significant contribution to the town’s historical record. ©SDHS UT #85:a1838-4, Union-Tribune Collection.

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The first group of miners to arrive in Julian included three Baptist ministers. Rev. Thomas Jackson Wood, a missionary from England, began services at the Julian Community Baptist Church in 1885. Services were originally held in the oneroom Julian schoolhouse until Drury Bailey donated land to be used for a new church building. The new building held its first church service in December 1891 and, shortly thereafter, Rev. Frank L. Blanc was hired as the church’s full-time pastor. The Sentinel advertised for volunteers to assist in the organization of a church Sunday school and called on families to contribute to the effort. Aside from Sunday morning services, “song services” were held in the evenings to give “the young couples a chance to get together.”34 Small town gatherings continued into the early twentieth century, long after the gold mines had ceased production. The first Apple Day celebration was held in 1909 to celebrate the year’s harvest and a new stage in the life of Julian. The day was overcome with windy conditions so men and boys held the tents in place for food serving while “the women and girls had to tote the food across the street to the Julian Hotel.” Julian and other rural towns like Escondido, Ramona and Poway, formed a town baseball league, which provided recreation for the men in town. Fourth of July celebrations were elaborate affairs. People from miles around gathered in Julian for a barbeque, horse racing, relay races, and dancing.35 Today Julian is famous for apples and apple pie. Orchards produce several varieties, including Pippins, Arkansas Black, Lady, and Granny Smith. Tourists and locals enjoy Julian’s apples in pies, ciders, and jellies available throughout the county.36 Many of the town’s original buildings remain standing and are used for shops, restaurants, and other small businesses. While most California mining towns gained fame for their boom years, Julian boasts of a history beyond the Gold Rush.

NOTES 1. This paper draws on sources held at the San Diego County Public Library, Julian branch, and San Diego Historical Society. These archives provide adequate but limited evidence about life in early Julian. The Julian Historical Society, however, promises to make available previously unread letters, diaries, and other materials related to the history of the town. The Society’s archives, in storage for a number of years, are presently in the process of being archived, indexed, and preserved, in order to make them available to the public. They should be available at the Society’s new home, the old Witch Creek School, most recently used as the town library, in the not-too-distant future. 2. Dan Forest Taylor, “Julian Gold,” Federal Writer’s Project, February 8, 1939, 2. Mission Santa Ysabel was founded in 1818 as a branch, or “asistencia,” of the Mission San Diego. Thanks to Dr. Iris Engstrand for this information. 3. Richard F. Pourade, The Glory Years, (San Diego: Union-Tribune Publishing Comopany, 1964), 53-54; Helen Ellsberg, Mines of Julian, (Glendale, CA: La Siesta Press, 1972), 13; Gale W. Sheldon, “Julian Gold Mining Days,” masters thesis, San Diego State College, 1959, 17. At the time of Coleman’s discovery, three known families lived in the area: the Harrall, Brady, and Webb families. Horace Fenton Wilcox, “How Julian Mines Were Discovered,” [n.d.], San Diego Historical Society Archives (hereafter SDHS), Subject File “Julian, CA,” 2. There is little, if any, additional information about Emily City, other than the fact that the “city” consisted primarily of tents. 4. Myrtle Botts, History of Julian (Julian, CA: Julian Historical Society, 1969), 1-5. The Baileys and Julians made an agreement to meet in New York City on a given day in 1867 and travel together to San

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Life Beyond Gold: A New Look at the History of Julian, California Francisco by way of Panama. Frank Bailey, Drury and James Bailey’s brother, also traveled with them from New York to the West Coast. At some point in the travels around Nevada, Frank separated from the group but rejoined them in Julian in 1870. Drury (“Drue”) Bailey failed to arrive in New York by the chosen day, and as a result traveled west independently through Missouri. He stopped to prospect in Montana, Idaho, Utah and Arizona before arriving in Nevada where, by chance, he was reunited with his family. 5. Charles LeMenager, Julian City and Cuyamaca Country, (Ramona, CA: Eagle Peak Publishing Company, 1992), 42. The Baileys set claim to their gold deposit, “Warrior’s Rest,” a few days earlier than Bickers’s discovery on February 20, 1870. Considered a ‘pocket claim,’ Warrior’s Rest was deserted, whereas the Washington Mine continued production for years. Taylor, “Julian Gold,” 4-7. 6. Botts, History of Julian, 5; Ellsberg, Mines of Julian, 17. 7. Robert Allison later founded La Mesa, a suburb of San Diego. Allison Avenue was named in his honor. See Liz Neely, “On Allison, Council Says Its Aim is True,” San Diego Union-Tribune, April 5, 2007. 8. LeMenager, 59-62. 9. Ibid., 62-66, 72-75. Hayes, Samuel Ames, former resident of the Cuyamacas, and their Indian guide, Chono, set out in July 1870; James A. Jasper, “Trail-Breakers and History-Makers,” [n.d.], SDHS, 22. 10. Ray Redding, interview by Jeanette Washburn, KGB Radio transcript, October 19, [n.y.], SDHS Subject Files “Julian, CA.” 11. Sources are unclear as to the exact year that the Margaret Tull Robinson sold the Hotel Robinson to Martin Jacobs. They also are unclear about when the Jacobs family changed the hotel name to the Julian Hotel. Some sources, including Alice Barnes, recall that Martin Jacobs bought the hotel in 1919. See Barnes, “Alice Genevieve Barnes: Gold Mines and Apple Pie,” 70. Others believe it occurred earlier, in 1918. See LeMenager, Julian City and Cuyamaca Country, 149, 190. The Julian Gold Rush Hotel, which now occupies the original Hotel Robinson, states the transfer of ownership happened in 1921, and that the name change from Hotel Robinson to Julian Hotel took place sometime during the fortyseven years the Jacobs family ran the hotel. See http://www.julianhotel.com/history.html (accessed March 5, 2008). 12. Alice Genevieve Barnes, interviewed by Scott Theodore Barnes, n. d., San Diego County Library, Julian Branch. Barnes published a limited edition of these transcripts: Barnes, “Alice Genevieve Barnes: Gold Mines and Apple Pie,” (n.p: private printing, 1999), 18-19, 91. 13. James A. Jasper, “Julian and Round-About,” [1928], 7-8, SDHS. 14. “Letter from San Diego,” Sacramento Daily Union, November 16, 1870. Local Indian children did not attend school in Julian, but were certainly visible and active in the town. The Indian children typically attended an Indian boarding school on the reservation in Volcan. See Barnes, “Alice Genevieve Barnes: Gold Mines and Apple Pie,” 73. 15. Jasper, “Trail-Breakers,” 66. 16. Jo Ann Cornelius, ed., 1870 Census of San Diego County California (San Diego Genealogical Society, 2nd ed., 1995), 99; Taylor, “Julian Gold,” 11; Jasper, “Trail-Breakers,” 10; Martin Jacobs ran a butcher shop from 1915-1920. At the time the Jacobs’s butcher shop was the only place in Julian to get ice cream. See Barnes, “Alice Genevieve Barnes: Gold Mines and Apple Pie,” 91, 98. 17. Botts, History of Julian, 24-25; Jimmy Thornton, “Native Remembers a Different Julian,” San Diego Tribune, January 4, 1988, SDHS Subject Files “Julian, CA.” One author described them as “hard working, thrifty and resourceful, traits which helped them prosper and break down barriers of discrimination.” Paula Parker, “Heyday of Julian Hotel,” Los Angeles Times, February 3, 1980, II:CC:1, SDHS Subject Files “Julian, CA.” 18. Ellsberg, Mines of Julian, 65; James A. Jasper, ed., Julian Sentinel, August 29, 1890. After a man was killed in front of the newspaper office and the murder failed to make the headlines, James A. Jasper decided a change was necessary. He purchased the newspaper from A. J. Jenkins in 1887 and began “telling the news as it happened.” See Ellsberg, Mines of Julian, 25; LeMenager, Julian City and Cuyamaca Country, 124. 19. Cornelius, 1870 Census of San Diego County California, 100; Julian Sentinel, May 30, 1890, SDHS Subject Files “Julian, CA”; Ellsberg, 67.

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The Journal of San Diego History 20. Leland Fetzer, Good Camp: Gold Mines of Julian and the Cuyamacas (San Diego: Sunbelt Publications, 2002), 16. 21. Ellsberg, Mines of Julian, 17, 22; Taylor, “Julian Gold,” 11; San Diego Union, September 1, 1870, col. 2, 4. 22. Cited in Sheldon, “Julian Gold Mining Days,” 68. 23. Jasper, “Trail-Breakers,” 109; Suzie Taylor McPherson, interviewed by Edgar F. Hastings, April 1, 1959, transcript, SDHS. 24. Barnes, “Alice Genevieve Barnes: Gold Mines and Apple Pie,” 98; Jasper, “Trail-Breakers,” 148. 25. Ellsberg, Mines of Julian, 23; Sheldon, “Julian Gold Mining Days,” 74. 26. Virginia Bruett Wyatt, The History of Camp Virginia (n.d., private printing, 1983), San Diego County Library, Julian Branch; LeMenager, Julian City and Cuyamaca Country, 94, 96. 27. Ellsberg, Mines of Julian, 25. 28. LeMenager, Julian City and Cuyamaca Country, 165; Rufus Collor, interview by Robert Wright, transcript, December 29, 1974, SDHS; “A Short History of Julian, California,” KGB Radio transcript, San Diego, February 10, 1963, SDHS Subject Files “Julian, CA.” 29. Taylor, “Julian Gold,” 33; Horace Fenton Wilcox, “Memories of the Gold Stampede to Julian,” Touring Topics, February 1932, 17. The interesting thing about Wilcox’s recollection, is it is one of the few, albeit brief, mentions of gambling, dance halls, or the notion of non-respectable women in Julian. On the contrary, Dan Forest Taylor goes so far as to say gambling halls and dance hall girls were intolerable in Julian, especially compared to other gold mining regions like the Yukon and Klondike. See Taylor, 34. Helen Ellsberg alludes to the notion that Jasper’s manuscript has been tampered with over the years, by families who did not want their personal affairs aired to the public. As a result, “all reference to shady ladies and a red light district [are] missing.” Ellsberg, Mines of Julian, 25. 30. Sheldon, “Julian Gold Mining Days,” 151. 31. Herbert Lockwood, “The Skeleton’s Closet,” [publication not noted], July 7, 1968, SDHS Subject Files “Julian, CA”; Botts, History of Julian, 22; Winifred Davidson, “Tales of the Old Southwest,” San Diego Union, September 3, 1939. 32. Wilcox, “Memories,” 17; Suzie Taylor McPherson, interviewed by Edgar F. Hastings, April 1, 1959, transcript, SDHS.7; Jasper, “Trail-Breakers,” 29; Julian Sentinel, March 20, 1891, SDHS Subject Files “Julian, CA.” 33. Residents also rallied around student performances held by the Julian school. Talent show performances included a number of songs, recitations, and readings. The money earned from the event was “used in procuring portraits of Washington, Grant, Longfellow and Beethoven for the new school house.” Julian Sentinel, August 8, 1890, SDHS Subject Files “Julian, CA.” 34. Taylor, “Julian Gold,” 4; LeMenager, Julian City and Cuyamaca Country, 148, 150; Julian Sentinel, July 11, 1890; Donald A. Moore, interview by San Diego Historical Society, ND, SDHS. 35. “A Short History of Julian, California,” KGB Radio transcript, San Diego, February 10, 1963, SDHS Subject Files “Julian, CA”; LeMenager, Julian City and Cuyamaca Country, 143; Charles Kelly, interviewed by Edgar R. Hastings, transcript, July 15, 1957, SDHS. 36. Ernie Grimm, “Julian’s Apple Survivors,” San Diego Reader, November 8, 2001.

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The Balboa Theatre:

A Preservation Project Completed Iris Engstrand “The seats are in. The season is set. The decades of hand-wringing and footdragging are done, and a new era for downtown’s Balboa Theatre is almost begun,” exclaimed James Hebert, Arts Writer for the San Diego Union-Tribune, as the historic Balboa Theatre prepared to open its doors for the first time in 22 years.1 The historic Spanish Colonial Revival theater designed by architect William H. Wheeler (1873-1956) and completed in 1924 has welcomed the public for the first time since 1986. Mayor Jerry Sanders used the new facility to deliver his State of the City address on January 10, 2008, and public performances began on January 11. Wheeler, who continued the Mediterranean style of Balboa Park, served for three years as an architectural atelier in his native Australia before emigrating to Vancouver, BC, at age 20. He moved to San Francisco in 1900 to study engineering at the University of California Berkeley and from there to Arizona to work on the San Diego and Arizona Eastern Railway. An association with John D. Spreckels and a visit to San Diego kept him in the southern city to design such well-known

Original theater stage with a replica of the Nuñez de Balboa family’s Coat of Arms and a sketch of a Spanish sixteenth-century caravel featured on the curtain. ©SDHS Sensor #2363-A.

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According to former employee Dan Whitehead, “The waterfalls would turn on when the title curtain closed at the end of the show and turn off when the show started. Some time in the early ‘80s the water supply to them was cut. After that, I used to take a tall A-frame ladder and fill them with a hose about once a week (twice in the summer).” ©SDHS Sensor #2363-G.

buildings as The Eagle’s Hall, Temple Beth Israel at 3rd Avenue and Laurel, Immaculate Conception Church in Old Town, San Diego Athletic Club, the Four Square Gospel Angelus Temple in Los Angeles,2 and homes for Madame Ernestine Schumann-Heink and Thomas Sefton.3 The downtown property was part of Alonzo Horton’s Addition and faced his Horton House Hotel and plaza. Several lots in the area had been purchased by Dr. Hiram Gould, a Maine immigrant who settled in San Diego in mid-1883 after spending time in San Francisco and the Cerro Gordo mining area in the Inyo Mountains. His property in downtown San Diego included the corner of Fourth and E, upon which he built the Gould Hotel.4 It was torn down in 1923 to make room for the Balboa Theatre, named in honor of Vasco Nuñez de Balboa, first European to discover the Pacific Ocean in 1513. It failed to be renovated when the new Horton Plaza Shopping Center took shape in 1985. The Balboa Theatre, first built in the 1920s when vaudeville and silent movies were popular, survived the Great Depression by offering the latest Hollywood films, World War II as a haven for sailors, and the post-war period as a movie palace with some live performances. But by 1986, the theatre, even though well preserved, seemed to have outlived its usefulness and was closed without ceremony. The city condemned the property but could not decide on its future use; no plans for its use as an art gallery, retail shop or restaurant were

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The Balboa Theater: A Preservation Project Completed approved. Finally, when demolition threatened, the Balboa Theatre Foundation came into being to fight for preservation. Others joined in but the money raised was not enough. Fortunately, the Centre City Development Corporation (CCDC), San Diego’s The décor along the sides represented Spanish Colonial Revival in a rather bold motif with bright colors. ©SDHS Sensor #2363-F. nonprofit organized to redevelop the downtown area, took on the job of saving the theater. Still, according to James Hebert’s interview with CCDC’s Project Manager Gary Bossé, “that was just the start of a long, painstaking process of design, planning, construction and seismic retrofitting.”5 Kay Porter, President of the Board of Directors of the Balboa Theatre Foundation, noted that the foundation had played a significant role in placing the theatre on the National Register of Historic Places in 1996: “Twenty years of

The outside of the Balboa Theater at Fourth and E has been faithfully restored with a marquee that gives light to the whole corner. ©SDHS Sensor #2363-E.

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advocacy of our Foundation and many others in the community gave purpose to CCDC’s magnificent restoration of the Balboa Theatre.” She added that said that the foundation encouraged the theatre’s use by both local non-profit performing arts groups and traveling theatrical productions. “The downtown theatre district is significantly enriched by this elegant historic venue,” she concluded.6 Renovation architect Paul Westlake of the firm Westlake Reed Leskosky had worked on about seventy-five pre-1930 movie palaces nationwide but was still amazed at the sound quality of the Balboa and its potential for becoming a firstclass venue. Wheeler’s ornate design scheme, based on Spanish and Moorish revival styles, incorporated some spectacular elements: twin 28-foot recirculating waterfalls that flanked the stage, a color scheme with striking hues (lavender, orange, aqua) and bold bronze accents, 1,513 seats to keep in mind Balboa’s discovery date,7 and soaring 90-foot ceilings. It featured large painted murals on the lobby walls and a ramp to the second floor balcony seating.8 The tiled dome influenced the architectural designs for Horton Plaza.9 Renovation architect Westlake and the City of San Diego are to be congratulated for preserving this historic monument to the city’s past which Don Telford, president and COO of San Diego Theatres, has called a “beautiful, beautiful venue.”10

NOTES 1. “A Classic Revival: Balboa Theatre Returns to its Former Splendor,” San Diego Union-Tribune, January 6, 2008. 2. Hired by evangelist Aimee Semple McPherson in 1922. 3. Francine Bryson-Mortenson, “William Wheeler,” typescript, San Diego Historical Society Research Archives, 1986. 4. Also known as the Gould House, it was managed by Charles W. McAllister. Hiram Gould’s grandchildren Elwyn B. (“Jay”) Gould, Leslie Gould, and Grace Gould Klauber all became prominent members of the San Diego Community. See Iris H. W. Engstrand, “The Gould Family of San Diego,” Journal of San Diego History 51, nos. 3 and 4 (2005): 97-122. 5. Gary Bossé, CCDC’s senior project manager for the restoration. Quoted by Hebert in “A Classic Revival,” San Diego Union-Tribune, January 6, 2008. 6. Kay Porter, interviewed by Iris H. W. Engstrand, March 7, 2008. 7. The number of seats is apparently in dispute, but no matter since people are larger now and there are fewer seats (1,350) than there were in 1924. 8. The original organ is in San Diego’s Copley Symphony Hall. 9. Matt Perry, “A Classic Revival,” San Diego Union-Tribune, January 6, 2008. 10. Quoted by Hebert in “A Classic Revival,” San Diego Union-Tribune, January 6, 2008.

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The Charity Ball by Mary Clark and Iris Engstrand Lena Sefton Wakefield Clark, mother of the late Dallas Clark, chaired the first Charity Ball on November 30, 1909, at the Hotel Robinson on Fir Street between Third and Fourth Avenues. The ball started late in the evening, featured a midnight supper, and continued well into the night. Couples danced, played cards, and engaged in other diversions. Originally given to benefit the infirmary at the Children’s Home, it provided seed money for the internationally recognized Children’s Hospital founded in 1954 on twenty-five acres of land located by Dallas Clark on Kearny Mesa. It was renamed Rady Children’s Hospital in recognition of a major gift made to the facility by Ernest and Evelyn Rady in 2006. While most balls in San Diego have become simple dinner-dances, the Charity Ball retains certain distinctive features, including elite “box” seats arranged every year in the ballroom of the Hotel del Coronado. On February 9, 2008, long-established San Diego families along with newcomers attended the 99th anniversary Charity Ball that included an optional pre-ball dinner in the Crown Room, a grand procession through the lobby, and an evening of dancing. Mary Clark, charity box holder since 1947, attended the ball with many of the former chairs featured in the 1982 photograph. The silver and gray dresses worn by the Charity Ball Chairpersons in 1982 were made from fabrics provided by Burl Stiff, society columnist for the San Diego UnionTribune, who had collected the material during trips to London, Paris, and New York. He enlisted the help of Janet Moore who, in turn, recruited volunteers to sew the dresses into three different patterns. Each person added accessories and individualized the dresses. Chair of the 1982 Ball, Letitia Hunte Swortwood, whose mother Emily Fenton Hunte had been chair in 1967, worked behind the scenes to assist the women with Lena Sefton Wakefield Clark with her son, Dallas, and their new gowns and to get them daughter-in-law, Mary, at the 1960 Charity Ball. Mary is ready for the photo on the following wearing a dress originally made for her mother-in-law from page. her own Spanish shawl and worn for a ball at West Point in 1902. It was worn again by Lena Sefton Clark at the 1912 Charity Ball.

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*Formerly Mrs. Fred Rohr, Jr. **later Mrs. Walter Deming ***later Mrs. Arthur Jessop

Betty Matthews Wohlford (Mrs. Burnet), 1972; Alice Klauber Miller (Mrs. David M.), 1963; Anne Ledford Evans (Mrs. William), 1974; Marian Freshour Jessop (Mrs. Arthur), 1955; Elinor Savage Oatman (Mrs. Jack), 1959; Mary Belcher Farrell (Mrs. Walter), 1956; Frances Hodenpyle Golden (Mrs. Kenneth), 1981; Betty Marshall Hubbard (Mrs. Leon), 1980; Karon Turnbow Luce (Mrs. Gordon C.), 1979.

Top Row (left to right)

Rosemary Bertois McInnis (Mrs. Wesley), 1949; Elzie Dauler Alison (Mrs. Jefferson), 1934; Carma Coppard Luce (Mrs. Edgar A., Jr.), 1947; Winifred Sullivan Broderick (Mrs. Walter**), 1958; Elizabeth McDonald Hogan (Mrs. John***), 1968; Marjorie Forward Lutes (Mrs. Fielder), 1970; Mary Hollis Clark (Mrs. J. Dallas), 1971; Sally Stevens Jones (Mrs. Evan), 1973; Alison Frost Gildred (Mrs. George), 1976; Gwendolyn Walsh Stephens (Mrs. William T.), 1969.

Middle Row (left to right)

Georgia Coddington Borthwick (Mrs. Anderson), 1954; Norma McNeill James (Mrs. Oliver), 1975; Ruth Whitney Robinson (Mrs. James), 1965; Gerry Smith Wheeler (Mrs. Richard), 1978; Abbie Johnson Giddings (Mrs. Donald), 1966; Margaret Wood Bancroft (Mrs. Griffing), 1925; Emily Fenton Hunte (Mrs. Louis), 1967; Augusta Witherow Starkey (Mrs. Harold B.), 1948; Patricia Moore Carter (Mrs. Hugh C.*), 1977.

Bottom Row (left to right)

The Journal of San Diego History

BOOK REVIEWS Mesoamerica´s Classic Heritage: From Teotihuacán to the Aztecs. Edited by Davíd Carrasco, Lindsay Jones, and Scott Sessions. Boulder, CO: University Press of Colorado, 2002. Photographs, Illustrations, Maps, Tables, Index. 584 pp. $29.95 paper. Reviewed by Paula De Vos, Assistant Professor, Department of History, San Diego State University. This volume on the history of Teotihuacán and its influence on Mesoamerica’s development brings together a unique collection of essays written by scholars from a variety of disciplines. It is the result of the Proyecto Teotihuacán, which has yielded a wealth of new archeological evidence and the organization of two conferences focused on Teotihuacán and its role in Mesoamerica’s development during the Classic period. This volume consists of revised essays that were presented at the second of these conferences, held at Princeton University in 1996. The contributors to the volume are scholars from both Mexico and the United States who bring together an impressive range of disciplines, including anthropology, archaeology, archaeoastronomy, art history, ethnohistory, and the history of religions. The main purpose of the volume is to incorporate new findings into a revisionist history of Teotihuacán that addresses two main conceptual debates. The first involves a reinterpretation of the time periods into which Mesoamerican history has been divided. Traditional scholars posited a radical break between the “golden age” of the Classic period and the “chaos” of the Postclassic, but more recent scholars have begun to question the validity of this interpretation, emphasizing instead gradual transition between the two periods and the fact that so-called Classic elements can be found in the Postclassic period and vice versa. The second issue concerns the degree to which the different societies of Mesoamerica – the Maya and central Mexican societies in particular – had a shared cultural tradition, or whether they developed largely in isolation from one another. Parts I and II of the book largely address the issue of chronology and periodization, and generally emphasize the idea of a gradual transition between the Classic and Post-Classic, identifying an “epiclassic” period of change. Part I consists entirely of a major essay by notable scholars Alfredo López Austin and Leonardo López Luján that discusses the politico-religious aspects of change in the epiclassic period. They posit that Mesoamerican leaders were able to counter the breakdown of older centers of authority and thus integrate peoples of varied religious practices by employing the concept and imagery of a mythical place of origin, “Zuyuá,” for all Mesoamericans. Essays in Part II (and some in Part IV as well) also corroborate the idea that classical influences are to be found throughout Mesoamerica in the Post-Classic. Several authors highlight the impact that Teotihuacán had on Aztec culture in the way that Aztec leaders consciously imitated its artistic and architectural styles and adopted its religious symbols in order to establish legitimacy. A second main purpose of this volume is to emphasize the importance of

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Book Reviews Teotihuacán in shaping Mesoamerican culture. The authors argue collectively but in varied ways that Teotihuacán in fact had enormous influence on shaping the societies, beliefs, and practices of other Mesoamerican peoples, to a degree that has hitherto eluded recognition. Indeed, without diminishing the rich variety within Mesoamerican society, the editors argue that “Teotihuacán, more than any other pre-Columbian center, was a paradigmatic source…for, if not all, certainly a very large portion of the ancient Mesoamerican world. The exceptionally wide influence of Teotihuacán was, so it seems, both a principal cause for and among the most seminal consequences of the essential unity of Mesoamerica” (p.5). Along these lines, essays throughout the volume, but particularly those located in Parts III and IV of the book, draw on a variety of evidence – from textual sources to artifacts to archaoastronomical measurement – to support claims of the seminal influence of Teotihuacán in shaping religion, cosmology, art and architecture, warfare, and social practice in the larger Mesoamerican world, and of Teotihuacán’s influence on the Classic Maya in particular. Mesoamerica’s Classic Heritage constitutes a major addition to the study of Mesoamerica, and this work has significance for colonial Latin Americanists as well, as it serves to clarify the role played by Teotihuacán in legitimizing Aztec rule, the relationship between the Maya and the people of central Mexico, and the character of Mesoamerican development in general. The collection of essays, written by prominent scholars in a variety of fields, is generally excellent – wellwritten, carefully argued, and geared toward the specialist as well as the nonspecialist. Not only do the essays bring new evidence to light, but they explain the significance of the evidence and place it in a historical context. Thus the volume is impressive and ground-breaking, yet accessible as well.

Bárbaros: Spaniards and their Savages in the Age of Enlightenment. David J. Weber. New Haven: Yale University Press, 2005. Illustrations, maps, bibliography, notes. xviii + 466 pp. $22.00 paper. Reviewed by Michael J. Gonzalez, Associate Professor of History, University of San Diego. On occasion there arrives a book whose real worth may escape notice, even amongst its most ardent admirers. Such is the case with David Weber’s Bárbaros: Spaniards and their Savages in the Age of Enlightenment. Weber examines the period between 1759 and 1810, a span of time that begins with the reign of Carlos III, the third Bourbon king to ascend the Spanish throne, and ends with the revolt of Spain’s American colonies. In this era, Weber explains, the Bourbon kings and their colonial administrators, as creatures of the European Enlightenment, wished to treat the Indians, especially the independent Indians who lived beyond royal control on the fringes of empire, as humanely as possible. The Bourbons, while respecting the Indians’ dignity, wanted their tolerant policies to make “the savages” subjects of the realm. Weber’s attempt to examine Spanish America from its northern edges to the most southerly reaches has earned high praise. The book jacket alone features

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glowing testimonials. “A key to Latin American history,” says one enthusiast. “Pathbreaking,” declares another. “Stunning,” adds one more admirer. Is the book really all these things? Indeed it is. Weber’s effort deserves every accolade. Student and scholar will welcome Weber’s lucid prose and tight organization. Still, as far as this reviewer is concerned, few commentators have noticed that the book works best, and provides the most benefit, when it presents the Indian’s voice. Oddly, Weber makes no pretense, as he says in the opening pages, to “illuminate Indian societies from within nor [to] confidently explain events or processes from the manifold cultural and material perspectives of a great variety of Native peoples” (p. 17). Yet illuminate he does. (Was Weber too modest to claim in the introduction what is so evident in the text? Or did Weber hope to silence critics who might grouse that he, as a Euro-American, could not appreciate the Indians’ perspective? Let the reader decide.) In Chapter Two, “Natives Transformed,” Chapter Five, “Trading, Gifting, and Treating,” and several other spots, Weber seems quite comfortable analyzing Indian societies “from within.” True enough, the evidence for the Indian perspective usually relies on the words of unsympathetic Spanish witnesses. But even allowing for distortions in the record, Weber explains that the independent Indians frequently knew how to get the better of the “Spaniards,” who, as the text makes clear, included people born in Spain, or, if from the Americas, individuals who professed to be Roman Catholics and followed Spanish custom. We have Indians who capture Spaniards, dress like Spaniards – and Spaniards who dress like Indians – marry Spaniards, trade with Spaniards, turn Spaniard against Spaniard, and terrify Spaniards. However they appear, the Indians often seem to be in control. They, not the Spaniards, dictate matters. Of course, Indian audacity does not stave off disaster. By the end of the nineteenth century, well after the Spanish crown had lost most of its American possessions, war, disease, and perhaps too much aguardiente (literally, firewater), so weakened Indians they were in no position to dictate anything. Despite the grim ending, at least for the Natives, the thought of Indians as active participants in the formation of Latin American society emerges as an insight the modern reader will treasure most. Be that as it may, a work’s value often depends on how well it will contribute to the learning of future generations. The scholar looking for a new field of study, or—who knows?—the college freshman seeking some direction about what to do in life, will find that Weber has raised topics that require more examination. The Indians’ approach to religion, the environment, war, and the trading of captives, while certainly broached by other scholars, have yet to receive the treatment proposed by Weber who looks at Spanish America from north to south. Thus, in its potential to inspire more study, Bárbaros shows its worth and deserves the highest praise indeed.

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Book Reviews Native Americans of Riverside County: Images of America. By Clifford E. Trafzer and Jeffrey A. Smith. Charleston, SC; Chicago, IL; Portsmouth, NH; San Francisco, CA: Arcadia Publishing, 2006. Bibliography. 127 pp. $19.99 paper. Reviewed by Christian Gonzales, Ph.D. Candidate, Department of History, University of California San Diego. Native Americans of Riverside County develops the simple yet important argument that the indigenous peoples of Riverside County have continuously maintained vibrant and distinct cultures despite the profound effects EuroAmericans have had on their communities since the late eighteenth century. The authors use annotated photographs to provide a brief introduction to the cultures and historical experiences of Native American peoples of Riverside County, California, such as the Chemehuevi, Cahuilla, Luiseño, and Mojave. A series of captioned photographs comprise each of the book’s six chapters. Each chapter develops the authors’ argument by exploring cultural persistence and change in a specific arena of Native American life. The book’s second chapter, “Native American Homes,” and its third, “Native Americans at Work,” for example, both assert that during the nineteenth and twentieth centuries Native Americans incorporated western manufactured goods into their lives, while they simultaneously continued to rely upon indigenous material culture. One photo shows an Indian home with a “traditional thatched roof” that rests on a modern wood frame (p. 42). In another photo, a woman preparing to make a meal sits garbed in western clothing but surrounded by native handcrafted storage baskets and a stone mortar and pestle (p. 54). The penultimate chapter focuses on tribal sovereignty within the context of Native coexistence with the United States and white Americans. It examines the Mission Indian Federation, and explains that the Federation augmented tribal sovereignty by trying to diminish the control and power of the Bureau of Indian Affairs. At the same time, the Federation was careful to demonstrate patriotism for the United States. It placed the patriotic hymn, “The American’s Creed,” in its magazine, The Indian, (p. 99) and flew American flags at its meetings (p. 103). Through such displays of patriotism, Indians sought support and protection for their tribal identities by showing that those identities posed no threat to the United States. The final chapter explains that individuals, museums, and social gatherings such as conferences and powwows have all worked to preserve Native cultures. In several images, adults pass down traditions and knowledge to the young. Elders teach children to dance at powwows and to sing Bird Songs, while the caption to a photo of the Noli Indian School explains that contemporary Indian schools teach Indian history and culture in conjunction with a western curriculum (p. 116). The book’s unconventional format supports its stated purpose of providing “a voice for the first people of the county” (p. 6). The Native subjects depicted in the photographs “speak” through images that reveal their daily lives. Readers see them working, learning, playing, and socializing. While the authors use the photographs and captions to interpret the stories they are telling, their methodology also gives readers an enhanced capacity to hear the book’s Native protagonists. By allowing readers to see rather than to only imagine Native Americans and Native lives, the photographs strengthen the reader’s connection to

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the people captured in their images. Indians become more than simply historical subjects or contemporary peoples who live separate from the larger society. The format of the book is also advantageous because it prompts readers to ask questions about issues significant to Native American history. For instance, many photographs show Jonathan Tibbet, a mid-twentieth century philanthropist who provided instrumental aid to the Mission Indian Federation. Readers might wonder what motivated him and other white “friends of the Indian” to support Indian interests. Likewise, the book asserts that education was and is critical to Native Americans. However, it also characterizes Indian schools as institutions of assimilation that primed Indians for menial labor jobs. How did the goals of white-run Indians schools, readers might ask, comport with Indian perceptions of the purpose of education? Did assimilation policies always simply force Indians to attend school, or did Natives have reasons of their own that led them to school voluntarily? Because the authors do not present an original thesis, scholars of Native America will learn little new from this volume. For non-professionals, the book’s bibliography is limited as it lists only works, some of which are obscure, on the history of California Indians. A suggested readings list that would identify seminal works on issues raised in the book (like assimilation, Indian boarding schools, gaming, and white philanthropy) would have been a valuable addition for curious lay readers. Still, the book’s use of annotated photographs to showcase Native American cultural persistence and change provides for the non-specialist an easily accessible and useful overview of the historical and contemporary experience of Riverside County’s Native American people.

Domesticating the West: The Re-creation of the Nineteenth-Century American Middle Class. By Brenda K. Jackson. Lincoln, NE: University of Nebraska Press, 2005. Bibliography, index, map, notes, and photos. xiii + 180 pp. $50.00 cloth. Reviewed by Benjamin R. Jordan, Visiting Instructor of History, Kenyon College. Brenda Jackson examines the efforts of middle class, northeastern Americans to maintain their status during and after the Civil War through the lives of Thomas and Elizabeth Tannatt. The war disrupted the economies of Union as well as Confederate cities, leaving even victorious army officers like Thomas struggling to hold onto middle class positions. Thomas, disappointed with army bureaucracy and the denial of his request to resume command of his unit after being wounded in battle, resigned his commission soon after the war ended. He failed to recover economic stability for his family as an engineer in a Colorado mining boom town and as a real estate and immigration agent in McMinnville, Tennessee. Thomas finally succeeded as a promoter of eastern American and European immigration to the emerging Pacific Northwest for Henry Villard’s Northern Pacific Railroad. His wife Elizabeth shifted from the role of efficient, gracious hostess expected of an army officer’s wife to broader women’s club reform work for temperance, charity, and civic and patriotic boosterism. Jackson’s research reinforces previous

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Book Reviews historians’ characterization of the frontier as an area to which eastern migrants transplanted middle class manners and mores in an attempt to maintain a status that their region of origin had lost some of its capacity to support. The book’s title and expressed goal of articulating a representative account of late nineteenth century middle class formation are grand and somewhat misleading. The author’s claim that “Thomas and Elizabeth provided the perfect representation of members of the nineteenth-century middle class” is questionable, especially since she later notes that the Tannatts were part of a select group of privileged eastern middle class migrants who served as western “community builders” (p. xi and 128). The book would have benefited from a more thorough examination of this professional, entrepreneurial elite relative to other segments of the nineteenth century middle class. Jackson’s discussion of middle class identity formation seems to this reader to be secondary to her tracing of the Tannatt family’s story and post-bellum civic boosterism in the Pacific Northwest, two more confined tasks at which the author excels. One of the book’s strengths is the balance it achieves between women’s and men’s narratives. By focusing equally on Elizabeth and Thomas Tannatt, the author illustrates how both women and men achieved select middle class status in the second half of the nineteenth century. Jackson appears more versed in women’s than men’s history. Some background in men’s history, such as the works of Anthony Rotundo and Michael Kimmel, would have helped her illuminate the overlap and differences between Thomas and Elizabeth’s efforts to reconfirm their class position. For example, Jackson might have drawn on this literature to further explore the notion of domesticity. Domestication is a term one expects to hear in regard to middle class women’s culture and reform, but can it also be applied to Thomas’s community leadership and boosterism? The book traces a family’s history, but it primarily emphasizes Thomas and Elizabeth’s work outside the domestic home sphere. Perhaps it was public rather than private activities that distinguished the upper middle class from the bulk of the middle class in this period. Jackson’s account suggests that the status of upper middle class men and women could be pursued independently, in conflict, or in complement. Upper middle class men’s identity, expressly tied to their work or military success, was susceptible to business failure or incapacitation by injury. Even when Thomas experienced temporary career setbacks, Elizabeth helped maintain the family’s position through her reform and benevolent work with women’s clubs. Men’s and women’s efforts to achieve upper middle class respectability and community leadership were occasionally at odds. When Thomas soft-peddled the prohibition issue as Walla Walla mayor because some of the town’s elite were involved in the liquor business, Elizabeth seemed compelled to resign from the local Woman’s Christian Temperance Union. Often, though, the work of select middle class men and women such as the Tannatts in new western towns went hand-in-hand. Leading men like Thomas helped attract investment, business, and settlers to a new town and ran its formal political machinery. Leading middle class women like Elizabeth tried to ensure moral and civic order for area residents through reform and benevolent club work. Jackson’s tracing of Thomas and Elizabeth’s entire lives provides a sense of how the status markers and roles of an upper middle class man and woman changed

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over the course of their lives. The book also illustrates the mobility and insecurity of Americans in the post-Civil War period – particularly those of the professional or entrepreneurial middle class whose lives one might assume to have been more stable. Readers interested in frontier, social, or gender history should enjoy the book. It also seems suitable for an undergraduate course in western or social history because it is concise, clearly written, and appealing.

Mestizo in America: Generations of Mexican Ethnicity in the Suburban Southwest. By Thomas Macias. Tucson: The University of Arizona Press, 2006. Bibliography, figures, tables, index, and notes. 175 pp. $55.00 cloth. $19.95 paper. Reviewed by Arnoldo De León, Professor, Department of History, Angelo State University. This study sets out to determine the persistence, among third-generation Mexican Americans, of a social phenomenon that in Latin America is known as mestizaje. Throughout Mexico and the South American continent, mestizaje is a term applied to the racial mixing of Spanish and indigenous populations as well as to the amalgamation of the two races. In the United States, the author finds, the pattern of cultural blending (mestizaje) continues as part of an Americanizing process. To find answers to the question of the mestizo or mestizaje in America, the author used the cities of Phoenix, Arizona, and San Jose, California. There, he sampled the degree of Hispanic Americanization by conducting a series of interviews among third-generation Mexican Americans between the ages of 25 and 45. The federal censuses provided the demographic foundation. His findings are not necessarily surprising, but they do provide persuasive data that the route taken by Mexican Americans towards acculturation resembles the path of European groups in that both become less ethnic. But major differences distinguish the two heritages, the author finds, as Mexican Americans retain their connections to their Mexican past longer, and thus mestizaje persists. They do so in the form of a “mediated culture,” for religion, the mother tongue, the Spanish-language media and other forces, including a conscious willingness to remain ethnic, play a part in perpetuating the ways of their upbringing. Indeed, Macias notes, third-generation Mexican Americans engage in activism, joining ethnic clubs and groups. These organizations, however, tend to be professional-oriented, that is, the membership consists of accountants, lawyers, educators, and the like. Further acting to continue this “mediated culture” is perpetual prejudice, whether Anglos manifest it subtly or express it blatantly. In the estimation of many Anglo Americans, a Mexican is a Mexican no matter the level of Americanization. Thus, Mexican Americans remain “Mexican,” whether they wish to be so or not. According to the author’s findings, then, mestizaje lingers even after Mexican Americans have experienced full acculturation. But it is an ambiguous formation to be sure, as variations of mestizaje exist, depending on a person’s class, intermarriage with Anglos, command of the Spanish language, political

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Book Reviews orientation, and other variables. Nonetheless, mestizaje in some form or fashion hardly dissipates. Although a work of sociology, Mestizo in America is an important study with a clear connection to the field of history. It confirms, through the use of the sociologist’s tools – such as the interviews utilized in this work – what historians have discovered in the primary documents: namely that the Mexican American experience has always been one of compromises between the Mexican and American way of life.

Bohemian Los Angeles and the Making of Modern Politics. By Daniel Hurewitz. Berkeley and Los Angeles: University of California Press, 2007. Illustrations, notes, and index. 377 pp. $29.95 cloth. Reviewed by Julian B. Carter, Assistant Professor of Critical Studies, California College of the Arts. This book both explores and exemplifies a series of intriguing connections. On a purely topical level, Daniel Hurewitz has written a fascinating account of the overlapping Bohemian communities that flourished in Edendale (now the neighborhoods of Silver Lake and Echo Park) in the first half of the twentieth century. Edendale was home to vibrant circles of visual artists, homosexually active men, and members of the Communist Party. Combining sound research with clear, evocative writing and an excellent ear for a telling quotation, Hurewitz brings these social and political worlds to life. Its content alone will make Bohemian Los Angeles compelling reading for people interested in the history of the left, of (homo)sexuality, and of the arts, as well as for those who seek a richer understanding of the unique culture of Los Angeles and of Southern California more generally. Further, the sweeping scope of Hurewitz’s argument will make this book interesting to many scholars. Hurewitz contends that Edendale was the crucible in which modern identity politics was forged. He suggests that the identity-political movements of the 1960s and 70s drew their basic form from the first “homophile” (gay rights) organization, the Mattachine Society, which was founded by Edendale resident Harry Hay in 1950. In turn, Hurewitz claims that Mattachine’s expressive politicization of the inner self reflects the convergence of the unique cultural concerns and practices developed by Edendale’s communities of visual artists and Communist Party members. Hurewitz’s discussion of Edendale’s artists demonstrates their active engagement with questions of the importance of creative self-expression in relation to the larger social and political order. He then argues that these artists’ culture of engagement “forged a template for building a community around a shared passion and shared identity,” a template that would prove immensely consequential in the building of a gay rights movement (p. 80). Similarly, Hurewitz describes Edendale’s Communists as actively engaged in the “politicization of emotion” – that is, their communism “entailed much more than a cry for economic and political change . . . [It] was a deeply lived and experienced way of life” (p. 153). In Bohemian Edendale,

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it made cultural sense to take one’s inner self seriously as material both for public expression and as the foundation for a politics. And so, Hurewitz tells us, the modern gay rights movement emerged there, and from it the identity politics “which so marked late-twentieth-century United States political life” (p. 5). The boldness of this claim is typical, and it seems emblematic of the book’s weaknesses as well as its strengths. Hurewitz is to be commended for the originality of his approach; his fundamental insight, that urban communities overlapped and influenced each other in unpredictable ways, is important and should have considerable impact in gay studies and elsewhere. Yet one might wish for a less impressionistic depiction of the nature of the influences neighboring cultural groups exercised on one another and the mode of their transmission. Hurewitz comes close to implying that the “politicization of emotion” was in the air in Edendale. More precise analysis of specific points of contact among the neighborhood’s Bohemian subcommunities would have helped to anchor these relations in social space. In addition, Hurewitz is not always as careful about defining his terms as one might wish. At times this looseness makes his basic argumentative claim seem undertheorized. Is the politicization of emotion the same thing as the politicization of identity? Are all communities indeed expressions of a common essential self? Finally, this reviewer was not convinced that white Communists in Los Angeles originated the notion of racial identity as a foundation for political action, as Hurewitz suggests in Chapter 5. The weakest part of the book is its comparatively shallow engagement with issues of racial identity and racial politics—issues that several historians have shown to be influential in shaping modern sexual identity categories, and that, by Hurewitz’s own analysis, were central to the emerging understanding of the personal as the political. Despite these significant flaws, Bohemian Los Angeles is a strikingly original, informative, and engaging work that will offer many readers nourishing food for thought and discussion.

Beyond Chinatown: The Metropolitan Water District, Growth, and the Environment in Southern California. By Steven P. Erie. Stanford, CA: Stanford University Press, 2006. Charts, index, and notes. xvii + 364 pp. $55.00 cloth. $21.95 paper. Reviewed by Donald J. Pisani, Merrick Professor of Western American History, Department of History, University of Oklahoma. When historians of the environment and the American West write about water, they tend to be pessimistic, if not apocalyptic. Most historians see economic and population growth as determinate. After all, one of the central assumptions of environmental history is that nature always imposes limits on growth. Between 1928 and 2003, Southern California’s population increased by 1000%. If the same rate of growth continues for the next 70 years, which, of course, is highly unlikely, in 2070 the region’s population will reach 200,000,000. Little wonder that most historians have looked at the Metropolitan Water District (MWD) not just as the agent of rampant and haphazard growth, but as an institution that exhibits little or no concern for the environment or for quality of life. This reviewer can only

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Book Reviews cringe at the author’s conclusion that “MWD has done a remarkable job to date,” yet Beyond Chinatown has much to teach students of water policy, the environment, and politics (p. 260). While focused on the MWD, the book also addresses the recent history of water management in the state, the nation, and the world, not just Southern California. Steven P. Erie is a professor of political science at the University of California, San Diego. This book is part of his project to study Southern California’s public bureaucracies and infrastructure, including the Los Angeles Aqueduct, Colorado River Aqueduct, State Water Project, San Pedro Bay ports, and Los Angeles International Airport. Professor Erie promises that this study of the MWD will be followed by a monograph on the Los Angeles Department of Water and Power. The book begins with a history of the MWD, framed against the distortions of Los Angeles water history presented in Roman Polanski’s famous film, Chinatown. However, more than seventy percent of the book focuses on the period since 1990. The major water issues are presented with clarity and freshness: the relationship of Los Angeles and San Diego in the organization of the MWD, the controversy surrounding water transfers from Northern California, water markets in Southern California, and many other significant policy issues. Despite its sympathetic tone, both the scope of the book and the research are impressive. Beyond Chinatown argues, as have many historians, notably Norris Hundley in The Great Thirst, that the water policies of Los Angeles were not foisted on the city through deceit or duplicity. By overwhelming margins of eight or ten to one, Los Angeles voters voted to build an aqueduct from the Colorado River into the city. The public was no less enthusiastic at the prospect of growth than city officials and real estate developers. Nor does Erie accept the idea that the MWD is a secretive or deceptive “monolithic shadow government.” The mayor, city council, and Department of Water and Power do not always agree on MWD policies. The book is filled with interesting interpretations. Far from being the spearhead of “imperial Los Angeles,” Erie argues, the MWD “heavily underwrote suburban sprawl and development of [its] regional periphery, particularly San Diego and Orange counties” (p. 80). San Diego could have built its own aqueduct had it chosen to do so. That it did not is evidence that the MWD has met regional needs, not just those of Los Angeles. Furthermore, the MWD has won the support of many environmental organizations by promoting water recycling and other conservation measures. The amount of water used within its service area in 1998 was about the same as in 1983 – despite a significant increase in population (p. 245). Professor Erie is not simply a cheerleader for the MWD. He understands that water policy is complicated, and his book captures the complexity of policies. And he is skeptical of both the growing power of private water companies in California, which have tried “to gain a foothold in the state by purchasing water or water rights and then selling them to buyers for a profit,” as he raises serious questions about water transfers from rural to urban California (p. 170). Professor Erie has written an intelligent, well-informed, and provocative book that will promote debate among those residents of Southern California who want not just to prepare for future residents, but to preserve a vestige of what the region once was.

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Strange Future: Pessimism and the 1992 Los Angeles Riots. By Min Hyoung Song. Durham, NC: Duke University Press, 2005. Bibliography, illustrations, index, and notes. 304 pp. $79.95 cloth. $22.95 paper. Reviewed by Kevin Allen Leonard, Associate Professor, Department of History, Western Washington University. The Los Angeles riots of April 1992 had a deep impact on many residents of the United States, particularly Korean Americans and African Americans. In Strange Future, Min Hyoung Song, a professor of English at Boston College, analyzes a novel, a play, and two films, all of which examine the rioting in Los Angeles. All of these cultural productions are profoundly pessimistic. They draw upon the riots to imagine a troubling future for American society. These pessimistic works, however, do not foreclose the possibility of a future characterized by social and economic justice, Song insists. Song uses his analysis of these artistic works to challenge what he identifies as the “neoconservative” response to the riots, which demanded more restrictive immigration policies and the growth of police power to protect white people from black and Latino criminals. According to Song, the riots have helped neoconservatives to dominate American political discourse since the early 1990s. Neoconservatives have expressed unwavering support for free-market capitalism and “managed diversity” – the effort to depict the United States as a multicultural nation in which racial differences are superficial and easily ignored – and unremitting hostility toward affirmative action and civil rights efforts. These themes in neoconservative discourse have worked to obscure the results of their policies: an ever-increasing redistribution of wealth to the wealthy. After an introductory chapter that relies in part upon the work of historians Mike Davis and Greg Hise to examine the racial geography of southern California, Strange Future includes chapters that carefully analyze the 1995 feature film Strange Days, directed by Kathryn Bigelow; Anna Deavere Smith’s 1994 play, Twilight: Los Angeles, 1992; the 1993 documentary film Sa-I-Gu: From Korean Women’s Perspective, directed by Dai Sil Kim-Gibson; and Chang-rae Lee’s 1995 novel, Native Speaker. In analyzing these cultural productions, Song rejects postmodernism’s emphasis on signs and instead relies upon metaphors that emphasize the materiality of the body. He dwells on five metaphors that recur in these post-riot writings, performances, and films: pain, trauma, wounding, injury, and haunting. Song’s readings of these works are always insightful and provocative. In his discussion of Strange Days, for example, he argues that the film’s ending, in which a deputy police commissioner intervenes to stop the beating of an African American, suggests the need for a strong police state in which the “only way to appeal for justice…is in the spectacle of our bodies’ pain; the only outcome for which we can hope is that someone in power will care enough not to remain a spectator” (p. 97). In his discussion of Sa-I-Gu, Song challenges scholars in American Studies who have criticized the emergence of a “trauma culture” in the United States. He insists that we must listen to individuals’ stories of traumatic experiences, such as those told by the subjects of the film, in order to understand the social conditions that have allowed these traumatic experiences to occur. The stories told by the Korean women in Sa-I-Gu show that the United States is not a “post-racial” society, as

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Book Reviews neoconservatives have argued. The final chapter in Strange Future does not seem to fit clearly with the previous chapters. Although Native Speaker refers to the Los Angeles riots, it does not focus clearly on rioting in Los Angeles, as Strange Days, Twilight, and Sa-I-Gu do. Moreover, in analyzing Lee’s novel, Song focuses more on how we should understand the writings of Korean American authors than on the pessimism associated with the riots. People who are interested in reading a traditional historical narrative should avoid Strange Future. Many historians may find the book difficult to read. It engages a body of theoretical literature with which many historians are unfamiliar. Moreover, some chapters are difficult to follow because they are written in ways intended to reflect the cultural productions they dissect. Although this book may not appeal to many historians, it will be valuable for those with an interest in recent American culture. Although Song’s provocative arguments will not persuade every reader, his insightful analysis will encourage every reader to think more critically about race, culture, and politics in recent United States history.

DOCUMENTARY California’s “Lost” Tribes. Produced and Directed by N. Jed Riffe. Beyond the Dream, LLC, 2005. 55 minutes. $24.95. Reviewed by Michelle M. Jacob (Yakama), PhD, Assistant Professor of Ethnic Studies, University of San Diego. “Why do Indians have casinos?” “Are all Indians rich from casino profits?” “What do Indians do with all their casino money, anyway?” These are common questions I hear at the grocery store, at ball games, and inside university corridors. Across the nation, but especially in Southern California, there is a palpable curiosity towards Indians in general, and specifically towards the “new” phenomenon of Indian casinos and the imagined wealth that accompanies those enterprises. Jed Riffe’s film, California’s “Lost” Tribes (part of the nationally-broadcast PBS “California and the American Dream” Series), makes a significant contribution to help fill a gap in the public’s knowledge about Indian gaming. Most importantly, Riffe privileges Indian voices and perspectives – so that California Indians themselves can tell the story of gaming’s history and impact within their communities. Throughout the film, the audience is taken on a journey – back to the roots of the social and historical forces that have shaped tribes’ contemporary experiences. Riffe’s film provides a primer on native issues in California history: the Spanish missionaries and enslavement of the native peoples, the discovery of gold and resulting “wholesale genocide” of indigenous peoples, the reservation era of isolation and poverty when California Indians were shut out of the economy (a trend that some argue continues to this day), and finally the legal battle resulting

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in the Cabazon decision of 1987 which opened up the possibility of Indian gaming. By taking a “case study” approach to the film, Riffe focuses on a handful of California tribes and their gaming history and experiences. This method allows the audience to understand the gaming issues within a specific context. For example, the Viejas band of Kumeyaay (in San Diego County) is one tribe that Riffe highlights. Former Viejas Tribal Chairman Anthony Pico explains the pain that genocide, racism, and isolation caused the people of the Viejas Reservation – and the resulting social disorder that struck the tribe. Within this context, Pico explains how gaming has provided opportunity and hope for his people. Through the narratives tribal members provide throughout the film, the audience can understand that the goals of tribal gaming have never been about amassing wealth – but instead have been about providing for the people. In narrative after narrative, the film shows how tribes have overcome brutal poverty conditions and have tirelessly sought a way into the California economy. With casino gaming, tribes such as Viejas are now able to provide college scholarships to tribal members, offer water, sewer, and garbage services on the reservation, and provide a reservation fire department. The benefits, however, do not extend solely to tribal members: Riffe’s film relates that 90% of Indian gaming jobs in the United States are held by non-native people. The film, true to the complexity of the issue it engages, goes beyond a simplistic and positive presentation of gaming. In a major part of the film’s focus on tribes in Northern California, Riffe examines the struggles between non-Indian populations and two tribes: the Rumsey Band of Winton Indians and the Indians of Grayton Rancheria. In highlighting these tribes’ experiences, Riffe demonstrates the power that non-Indians still have in determining the limits of tribal sovereignty, a power not unique to that part of the state. Riffe’s film is a valuable educational tool for introducing an audience to some aspects of the complexities of tribal sovereignty, and the resulting gaming-related compromises tribes sometimes make, such as entering into compacts with Sacramento. However, some audience members may be left with more questions about certain aspects of the issue. For instance, some viewers may wish for more detail about the trust relationship between the tribes and the federal government, or perhaps more information about the tribes that have chosen not to pursue gaming as an enterprise. Riffe’s film tells us that roughly half of all California tribes do not have casinos. California’s “Lost” Tribes, while not able to cover all aspects of the gaming issue, does provide viewers with a brilliant introduction into the complexities that Indian communities face on a daily basis. Perhaps the greatest contribution Riffe’s film makes is that it provides the opportunity for audience members to begin to understand the historical basis for gaming and the ways in which gaming is but one piece of the larger puzzle surrounding California tribes’ struggle for selfdetermination. Many audiences would benefit from this film, especially those interested in American Indian studies, California history, gaming studies, and cultural anthropology.

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BOOK NOTES Before Internment: Essays in Prewar Japanese American History. By Yuji Ichioka. Edited by Gordon H. Chang and Eiichiro Azuma. Stanford: Stanford University Press, 2006. Bibliography, notes, index, and photographs. xxviii + 360 pp. $53.00 cloth. This volume brings together a dozen essays by the late Yuji Ichioka, a leading authority on Japanese American history. Eiichiro Azuma and Gordon Chang provide an introduction and epilogue that discuss the life of Ichioka and the place of his work in Japanese American historiography. Corridos in Migrant Memory. By Martha I. Chew Sánchez. Albuquerque: University of New Mexico Press, 2006. Photographs, appendix, notes, references, and index. xvii + 228 pp. $29.95 paper. Martha Chew Sánchez investigates corridos—Mexican ballads that recount events of political or cultural significance. The author examines how these songs have helped transnational laborers maintain their humanity and create identities in the face of migration and political, social, and economic marginalization. Gender and Generation on the Far Western Frontier. By Cynthia Culver Prescott. Tucson, AZ: University of Arizona Press, 2007. Illustrations, photographs, bibliography, notes, and index. x + 219 pp. $49.95 cloth. In this monograph, Cynthia Prescott of the University of North Dakota examines transformations in gender roles and ideology among Anglo American settlers in the Willamette Valley from 1845 to 1900. The book also explores changing conceptions of middle-class identity as children of pioneer families increasingly engaged with a national culture of leisure and consumption. Gringo Revolutionary: The Amazing Adventures of Caryl ap Rhys Pryce. By John Humphries. Bro Morgannwg, Wales: Glyndŵr Publishing, 2005. Map, photographs, notes, bibliography, and index. 271 pp. £9.99 paper. Caryl ap Rhys Pryce was a son of the British Raj who had served as a soldier and policeman in British Africa before leading a group of socialist revolutionaries who captured Tijuana in 1911. John Humphries investigates the possibility that Pryce was a British secret agent. Latina Legacies: Identity, Biography, and Community. Edited by Vicki L. Ruiz and Virginia Sánchez Korrol. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2005. Notes and bibliography. xi + 260 pp. $99.00 cloth. The fifteen essays in this volume explore the lives and careers of notable Latinas. Several discuss familiar figures such as labor activists Luisa Moreno and Dolores Huerta, while others focus on authors, artists, and community leaders of varying political and cultural orientations.

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Letter to the Editors Dear Editors, Joel Levanetz’s article, “A Compromised Country: Redefining the U.S.-Mexico Border,” The Journal of San Diego History 54, no. 1 (2008): 39-42, contains the following errors: William H. Emory did not lead the U.S. group in a bi-national surveying team. Emory was in charge of the U.S. Topographical Engineers assigned to the commission and served as the commanding officer of the boundary escort. In the summer of 1849 the U.S. Commission was headed by Col. John B. Weller and Andrew B. Gray acted as the surveyor. The first meeting of the joint commission was held on July 6, 1849 – not 1848. The 1782 Pantoja map proved to be inadequate not because of “flaws in the map” but because the shape of the San Diego Bay changed between 1782 and 1849. The southernmost point of the port as depicted by Pantoja was 3,500 feet further south (not north) of where it had existed in 1849. It was necessary to evaluate the physical changes that had occurred and the location of the southernmost point as it had existed in 1782. The joint commission took the findings of the surveyors, Gray and José Salazar Ylarregui, the Mexican surveyor, and established the boundary line in accordance with the language of the treaty. No matter how one reads the map, the treaty did not give the commission the option of using the southernmost point of the port as it existed in 1849. The most serious errors are contained in the last paragraph of Levanetz’s article. The boundary line between the two countries is 1,952 miles long (not 2,000) with 1,254 miles on the Rio Grande River. The 1849-57 boundary commission marked the 698 miles from the Rio Grande to the Pacific Oceans with fifty-three monuments, seven of which were placed on California’s border. It is incorrect to write that “San Diego fortified its segment of the international boundary by building a fourteen-mile fence between the United States and Mexico.” Treaties between the United States and Mexico in 1889, 1944 and 1970 gave jurisdiction to boundary matters to the International Boundary and Water Commission, a joint agency appointed and staffed by the two countries. In other words, the United States Federal Government was, and is, responsible for the construction of border fences. In 1990-91 (not 1993), U.S. Representative Duncan Hunter secured $1.2 million from the Pentagon’s budget to fund the construction by military personnel of an expanded border security system that included new roads and a ten-foot-high metal fence from Otay Mesa to the Pacific Coast. Finally, Levanetz stated that “the barrier along the world’s busiest border crossing was completed” and “its three layers of fencing follow the line negotiated in 1849.” The metal fence has been built for almost fifteen years but, at this point, the construction of the triple fence is only getting underway, leaving a completion date at present undetermined. Several community groups are still endeavoring to have their concerns addressed. Charles W. Hughes

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SAN DIEGO HISTORICAL SOCIETY 40th Annual Institute of History Closing date: September 15, 2008 Details to be announced

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SAN DIEGO HISTORICAL SOCIETY BOARD OF TRUSTEES AND STAFF Interim Executive Director Linda A. Canada Officers Robert F. Adelizzi, President Arthur G. Peinado, Vice President Donna Long Knierim, Vice President Helen Kinnaird, Secretary Michael P. Morgan, Treasurer Harold G. Sadler, Past President & Chairman, Board of Governance BOARD OF TRUSTEES Thomas Anglewicz Diane G. Canedo James R. Dawe August J. Felando Kenneth Golden Ann Hill David M. Klauber Robert A. McNeely Virginia Morrison Linda Mosel Marc Tarasuck John Vaughan Nell Waltz MUSEUM OF SAN DIEGO HISTORY, RESEARCH LIBRARY, JUNIPERO SERRA MUSEUM, VILLA MONTEZUMA, AND MARSTON HOUSE STAFF Jane Anderson, Administrative Assistant Micheal Austin, Director of Education Itzel Baeza, Site Interpreter Jeff Boaz, Exhibit Preparator Trina Brewer, Museum Store Manager Reggie Cabanilla, Facilities Supervisor Julia K. Cagle, Assistant Archivist Rachel Carpenter, Site Interpreter Tori Cranner, Director of Collections Karie Dzenkowski-Castillo, Senior Exhibits Preparator Nyabthok Goldet, Assistant Museum Custodian Jamie Henderson, Collections Assistant Alex Jackson, Exhibit Preparator Johnna Jalot, Outreach Coordinator Margaret Johnson, Museum Educator

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Tam Joslin, Museum Store Associate Lauren Kasak, Site Interpreter Jane Kenealy, Archivist Elizabeth Klueck, Donor Services Coordinator Cindy Krimmel, Assistant Photo Archivist David Krimmel, Associate Director/Director of Exhibits Thomas Ladwig, Exhibits Preparator Joel Levanetz, Assistant Curator Kevin McManus, Site Interpreter Carol Myers, Photo Archivist Rosa Petroulias, Store Associate Ginger Raaka, Director of Retail Brianna Rendon, Site Interpreter Aurora Sandoval, Human Resources & Office Manager Gabe Selak, Public Programs Manager Montay Shine, Museum Custodian Judy Shragge, Development Director Angee Sieckman, Public Relations & Events Coordinator Michelle Stokke, Assitant Registrar Susan Stocker, Accounting Chris Travers, Director of the Booth Historical Photograph Archives/Photographer Donna Van Ert, Membership Director Nicholas Vega, Senior Curator Kate Vogel, Exhibition & Graphic Designer Johann Wahnon, Site Interpreter CREDITS Design and Layout Allen Wynar Printing Crest Offset Printing EDITORIAL ASSISTANTS Travis Degheri Cynthia van Stralen Arjun Wilkins

Publication of The Journal of San Diego History has been partially funded by generous grants from the Joseph W. Sefton Foundation; Natale A. Carasali Trust; Quest for Truth Foundation of Seattle, Washington, established by the late James G. Scripps; the Dallas and Mary Clark Foundation; Philip M. Klauber; and an anonymous friend and supporter of the Journal. Publication of this issue of The Journal of San Diego History has also been supported by a grant from “The Journal of San Diego History Fund” of the San Diego Foundation. The San Diego Historical Society is able to share the resources of four museums and its extensive collections with the community through the generous support of the following: City of San Diego Commission for Art and Culture; County of San Diego; foundation and government grants; individual and corporate memberships; corporate sponsorship and donation bequests; sales from museum stores and reproduction prints from the Booth Historical Photograph Archives; admissions; and proceeds from fund-raising events. Articles appearing in The Journal of San Diego History are abstracted and indexed in Historical Abstracts and America: History and Life. The paper in the publication meets the minimum requirements of American National Standard for Information Science-Permanence of Paper for Printed Library Materials, ANSI Z39.48-1984.

Front Cover: Postcard, “A Salute from the U.S. Naval Training Station, San Diego, California,” pre-1944. ©SDHS PC #84-95. Back Cover: View in 2008 through the arches at Liberty Station, formerly the U.S. Naval Training Station, San Diego, California. Author’s collection. Cover Design: Allen Wynar

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