POR MIS HIJOS (For My Children)

The Imagined Memoir of Maria Josefa Grijalva de Yorba (1766 - 1830)

By Anna Smith Yorba

Copyright © 2015 Anna Smith Yorba

All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review or scholarly journal.

ISBN:

Digital version available at: https://mariajosefagrijalva.wordpress.com/por-mis-hijos/

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DEDICATION

This is for my mother Marilyn Jeanne Yorba and all the mothers whose stories have been forgotten.

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

Thanks to Eddie Grijalva, whose account of the Grijalva family origins in California inspired my desire to find out more about my family history. I am grateful to my family, friends, historians, and fellow writers who have consistently offered encouragement for my quest.

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Table of Contents

INTRODUCTION ...... 1

JOSEFA'S STORY ...... 3

THE PIMERÍA ALTA ...... 5

THE TRAIL ...... 13

ALTA CALIFORNIA ...... 31

SAN FRANCISCO ...... 39

JOSÉ ANTONIO YORBA (YORVA) ...... 65

MONTERREY ...... 73

SAN DIEGO ...... 81

RANCHO SANTIAGO DE SANTA ANA ...... 89

LIFE ON THE RANCHO ...... 97

APPENDIX ...... 115

READING LIST ...... 115

LIST OF YORBA GRIJALVA CHILDREN ...... 119

DOCUMENTS ...... 121

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TABLE OF FIGURES

Figure 1. Site of original Grijalva adobe c. 1801 at el Paraje Santiago...... 3 Figure 2. Juan de Grijalva c. 1520 Unknown -...... 5 Figure 3. Los Santos Ángeles de Guevavi Mission's church ruins ...... 7 Figure 4. Analyzing 18th Century Lifeways. A resident's comal...... 11 Figure 5. Analyzing 18th Century Lifeways. Mexican mano and metate...... 11 Figure 6. Fray Orci. Portrait of Juan Bautista de Anza. 1774, NPS ...... 13 Figure 7. Cardero, José. Monterey Soldier 1791 ...... 14 Figure 8. Cleveland National Forest. CA ...... 19 Figure 9. Mule train at Anza Borrego State Park. Anza Borrego Desert State park Magazine .. 20 Figure 10. Metate for grinding chocolate ...... 21 Figure 11. Chocolatera ...... 21 Figure 12. Batidor & molinillos ...... 21 Figure 13. Looking toward Anza trail, Anza Borrego Desert State Park, February 2011...... 26 Figure 14. Cleveland National Forest, CA...... 31 Figure 15. The brutal death of Father Luís Jayme by the hands of angry natives at Mission San Diego de Alcalá, November 4, 1775 (artist unknown)...... 33 Figure 16. A Catalonian Volunteer, Presidio de San Diego, 1769...... 34 Figure 17. Bell Canyon, CA...... 37 Figure 18. Cardero, Jose. Ohlone ceremonial dance at Mission San José. 1816 ...... 42 Figure 19. El Polín Spring, Photo by A.S. Yorba 2013 ...... 44 Figure 20. Tilesius von Tilenau, Whilhelm. Spanish Establishment of San Francisco in New California 1806...... 46 Figure 21. Rowe, Heironymous. Wattle and daub construction with thatch roof. 2005 ...... 48 Figure 22. Zureks. St. Fagans Celtic village palisade wall. Wikipedia ...... 48 Figure 23. Choris,Louis. Vue du Presidio San Francisco. 1816...... 51 Figure 24. Curtis, Edward S., 1868-1952, Construction of a tule shelter--Lake Pom...... 54 Figure 25. Choris, Louis. Jeu des Habitans de Californie. San Francisco. 1822...... 56 Figure 26. Artist rendering of San Francisco interior ...... 57 Figure 27. Vadinska, Alexandra. Sergeant's house in 1792...... 59 Figure 28. Photo Margaret Yorba wearing 200 year old shawl belonging to Josefa Yorba. 1927 ...... 62 Figure 29. Excerpt from Mission San Francisco de Asís (Dolores) California...... 63 Figure 30. Don Pedro Fages ...... 66 Figure 31. Consecration of the Mission San Cárlos Borromeo de Carmelo ...... 70 Figure 32. Indian graveyard at Mission San Carlos Borromeo de Carmel...... 72 Figure 33. Cardero, José. Vista del Presidio de Monterrey, 1791...... 73 Figure 34. Cardero, José. Wife of a Monterey Soldier, 1791. Museo de América, Madrid...... 74 Figure 35. Reception Room, Mission San Carlos Borromeo, ...... 75 Figure 36. Cardero, José. Plaza del Presidio de Monterey c. 1791 ...... 77 Figure 37. Duché de Vancy, Gaspard. La Perouse at Mission Carmel 1786...... 78

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Figure 38. San Diego Presidio Hill. 1872 ...... 82 Figure 39. Tortillas sonorense ...... 86 Figure 40. Grijalva Adobe site ...... 90 Figure 41. California State Park Commission Historical Landmark #204...... 98 Figure 42. Recreation of Tongva (Gabrieleño) Indian hut c. 1790...... 100 Figure 43. Santa Ana Viejo ...... 101 Figure 44. Bubbling tar at La Brea tarpits ...... 101 Figure 45. Stone water filter ...... 102 Figure 46. Kitchen at Mission San Carlos Borromeo...... 103 Figure 47. Padre's room at Mission San Carlos Borroméo de Carmel...... 106 Figure 48. Nebel, Carl. Man with Young Women. 1836 ...... 107 Figure 49. Nebel, Carl. Rancheros. 1834 ...... 108 Figure 50. Deppe, Ferdinand. Mission San Gabriel 1832...... 109 Figure 51. Grave marker at Mission San Juan Capistrano...... 111 Figure 52. Penelon, Henri. Bernardo Antonio Yorba (1801 - 1858) ...... 113

TABLE OF MAPS

Map 1. The Pimería Alta region of Nueva España ...... 6 Map 2. 1767 map of San Felipe de Gracia Real de Terrenate by José de Urrutia. NPS ...... 10 Map 3. Map of the Anza Expedition trail. National Park Service...... 17 Map 4. Peninsula of San Francisco, Map of Explorations. Bancroft v. I, 281...... 39 Map 6. Creek and Watershed Map of San Francisco, South Peninsula...... 40 Map 5. Creek and Watershed Map of San Francisco, North Peninsula ...... 43 Map 7. Moraga Plan 1776 ...... 47 Map 8. Vancouver, George. San Diego Bay 1798 ...... 81 Map 9. Vallejo, Mariano. 1820 ...... 84 Map 10. No. 346 S.D. Bernardo Yorba et al Clmt. "Santiago de Santa Ana" ...... 89 Map 11. Gibson, Wayne Dell. Tomas Yorbas Santa Ana Viejo 1769 - 1847...... 97

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INTRODUCTION Maria Josefa Grijalva de Yorba, my great-great-great-great grandmother, first crossed the waters of the Río de Santa Ana in the year 1775. That river would define the bounds of my homeland, the Rancho Santiago de Santa Ana. The dusty pathways that I walked in childhood were the same that Josefa trod in the last 20 years of her life. Almost two hundred years later the last Yorba of my lineage closed the door of the family home and left for good. As a member of the seventh generation of her family to be nurtured by that soil, I came to feel that Josefa and I were bookends to a significant piece of California history.

I had always been told that our family descended from the great explorer José Antonio Yorba, who accompanied Gaspar de Portolá on the first Spanish explorations of Alta California. But no one ever mentioned Antonio's wife, Maria Josefa. I discovered her in my 60th year, 4 years younger than she was at the time of her death. It is a time of reflection.

My life in the 1950s was little changed from that of Maria Josefa's children except that we had electricity and cars and television. The men farmed and hunted, made wine and herded cattle. The women cooked and gossiped and kept us clean and in good favor with the Catholic Church. I spent almost every Sunday of my childhood on what was left of the Rancho Cañon de Santa Ana with a horde of cousins, aunts, and uncles. It was a clearly defined world.

In the 1960s that world broke apart. The family dispersed. There were stories in the family about people generations back who "went away and were never heard from again". I was almost one of those people. My children grew up far away from our homeland. They had no knowledge of the smells and sounds and textures of the world I knew. My grandchildren only heard the lullabies and stories from their Nani about faraway places and people that used to matter.

My desire to preserve memories of that life moved me to search out the beginnings. So many stories have disappeared with the loss of those who remembered them. I wanted to know Maria Josefa. I hope that this fictional memoir will keep her story alive for generations of the future.

I am not a history scholar. This work is written as a "creative" memoir. Josefa did not read or write so we will never know her actual words or thoughts. I have used the breadcrumbs of historical records to reconstruct her story as she might have told it. This is a fairly accurate recounting of real events, people and places. I have invented some

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relationships that might have occurred. In cases where the historical record is ambiguous I have I have made educated guesses about certain characters' participation in events. I hope this work encourages the reader's curiosity to learn about the people and events who made us what we are.

I have tried to inhabit the mind of Josefa's era. Cultural attitudes toward race and class were often offensive from our point of view. Native americans were usually referred to as "indios" in the spanish archives and so it is in this account. Please forgive any errors of fact. I welcome sharing information that others may have to contribute.

Historical notes are enclosed in borders.

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JOSEFA'S STORY

Figure 1. Site of original Grijalva adobe c. 1801 at el Paraje Santiago. Photo by A. S. Yorba 2013

Santa Ana Viejo 25 Nov. 1829 Ma. Josefa Grijalva de Yorba

I sit in the shade of the veranda of my home at Santa Ana Viejo and look out across the valley. I can see the snow-topped Santa Ana mountains to the north. The sun is reflecting off the ocean to the south like a glittering knife blade. A mist of fresh green is spreading across the hills. The hot dry santa ana winds that howl through the valley on the anniversary of Antonio's death will arrive soon enough.

I watch my children and grandchildren busying themselves around me. I have traveled far to find this place to rest. Now my sons' wives have taken over the work of running the household and I have time for reflection. Con el favor del dios, I will die knowing that my granddaughters will enjoy here the peace of home and family that I could only wish for through most of my life. 3

I never learned the esteemed arts of reading and writing but I made sure that my daughters did. I have asked Ysabel to help me record my memories. She has returned home after her husband José Joaquin Maitorena died in Mexico City while serving in Congress. The only thing I can thank her husband for is that her literacy and accounting skills have improved to cover his inadequacies. I hope that she stays with me for awhile. But she has an independent spirit. She is being ardently courted by several of the most prominent gentlemen of Alta California, not only because of her beauty but also because of the lands she inherited upon the death of her father José Antonio Yorba.

She might have been reduced to reliance upon others to take care of her as poor widow had her inheritance been lost. I vowed that I would never allow my daughters to rely solely on the unpredictable generosity of a father or husband for their well-being and that of their children. She has asked me to tell my story before it is lost like the dust that is forever being swept into the cracks from my adobe hearth.

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THE PIMERÍA ALTA My birthplace in the wilderness fortress of Presidio Terrenate, Nueva España is now an almost-forgotten dream. Sitting in the courtyard of my family home with my mother embroidering altarpieces for the church, I could not have foreseen that I would travel beyond the bounds of the known world to arrive at this life in Alta California.

My father, Juan Pablo Grijalva, a sergeant of the Spanish Royal Army, was of the purest sangre español. His ancestor Juan De Grijalva had come to New Spain in the 1500s to embark on the noble quest to bring the Holy Word of God to the savages of the New World, to send riches back to Spain, and to enrich themselves. If he had faced a less ruthless rival than Hernan Cortes himself, I would be sitting in a big house in the Capitol, dressed in silks and lace, and waited on by softer and whiter hands than my own are now.

Figure 2. Juan de Grijalva c. 1520 Unknown - Historia de Cuéllar, Balbino Velasco Bayón, Segovia, 1996, Sección Gráfica.

In the 18th century King Carlos III of Spain ruled Nueva España which occupied all of the lands west of the Mississipi River as well as Florida, Mexico, Central America, and parts of South America. Terrenate Presidio was one of the fortresses established in the Pimería Alta, the lands of the Pima Indian tribe. It was in the northern regions of in the Sonora district on lands securely governed by Spain after Spaniards had been expelled from Santa Fe in the Pueblo Revolt of 1680. Dominion over native tribes was still not secure by the mid-1700s.

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Map 1. The Pimería Alta region of Nueva España

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I barely remember my Abuelo, Andrés Grijalva [1721-1770]. He was a soldier of the Royal Presidio at Tubac guarding the Mission at Guevavi. He and my Abuelita, Hilaria Leiva [1720-1770] both grew up in the frontier lands of northern Sonora [now southern Arizona], Nueva España. They had six children including Papá. He was born at La Valle de San Luis, Sonora in 1742 and baptized February 2, 1744 at the Mission San Gabriel de Guevavi.

Figure 3. Los Santos Ángeles de Guevavi Mission's church ruins with San Cayetano Mountain and the Santa Rita Mountains in the background. NPS Photo

Our family never slept peacefully in the Pimería. We were constantly cloaked in fear of Indian attack. As a child Papá saw friends, neighbors, and family ruthlessly slaughtered during the revolt of the Pima tribes and later the relentless Apache raids. Following the family tradition of military service, Papá left Guevavi as a young man to join the army at the neighboring Terrenate Presidio.

My young father, having no lands or inheritance, was fortunate to win the hand of Maria Dolores Valencia. Born in San Miguel de Horcasitas, Sonora, in 1744, she was one of the fortunates who survived the smallpox epidemic of 1762. She still draws her rebozo across her face to hide the scars long after they have faded from sight.

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She was in danger of becoming a spinster when he asked for her hand in 1764. At 20 years of age perhaps she finally despaired of waiting for a distinguished officer from Mexico City to carry her away to the Capital.

The customary laws of primogeniture decreed that all of the land passed from one generation to the next by way of the eldest son. Daughters would hope to marry an eldest son. Younger sons would hope to marry into a family without sons or enter the military or the priesthood.

Although Mother's home at San Miguel de Horcasitas was a beseiged outlier of civilization, the Presidio Terrenate to which she went with her new husband, was beyond the pale. She cried for her mother when I was born to her at San Felipe de Gracia Real de Terrenate Presidio on January 4, 1766. She was soothed by the local curandera, who knew the leaves and roots to ease the pain and fear. Each time Papá was sent out on a campaign she feared for his life - and for our lives should he fail to return. But as a daughter of a soldier, she knew that her days would be spent supporting her husband in a perpetual struggle to hold back the savage tribes that threatened to annihilate them. Papá was wounded twice in the 10 years he served at Terrenate during 20 campaigns against the Yaqui, Apache, and Seri Indians.

My mother’s mother also knew the pain of being uprooted from her home. Nana Valencia came to San Miguel de Horcasitas in 1749 with her husband and 4 year old daughter (my mother) from the great city of Culiacán. They ventured north to colonize the new Presidio at San Miguel de Horcasitas. Grandfather fought as a defender of the King against the Comcáac uprising.

My Mother’s Valencia family in Horcasitas maintained fervently the customs and manners of Spain as they remembered or supposed them to be. Nana was fiercely proud of her limpieza de sangre. I remember Grandfather Valencia, who was older than Nana, sitting in the sun to warm his brittle old bones in the morning. The children dared not speak to Grandfather until spoken to. And no one would come or go from the house without first receiving his blessing. How I wish I could go back to receive my grandparent's blessing one more time.

While Abuelo Grijalva was on duty at Tubac, Apaches attacked the nearby Mission at Guevavi in 1768 killing all but 2 soldiers. He eluded the Guevavi massacre only to be killed by Apaches two years later at San Ignacio de Cabórica. My Abuelita Hilaria was with us when the soldiers came to tell her that Abuelo had been murdered. She retreated to her room and refused all food and drink until she was able to rejoin her husband in the next world. After the deaths of mis abuelos Papá sent Mother and I back to San Miguel de Horcasitas to stay with my Valencia grandparents until the danger should subside. My little sister Maria del Carmen was born there in 1772.

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Mission San Ignacio Caborica Entry: "On November 27, 1770, having declared some of his meager goods, and having received the Holy Sacrament of Penance but not the Viaticum or Extreme Unction because of his accelerated death, Don Andres Grijalva, was buried in the church of this Mission of San Ignacio. He was a Spaniard and resident of Terrenate. He was married to Hilaria de Leiva. The enemy shot him with their arrows earlier this month. For this truth, I, the undersigned minister for His Majesty, afixed my signature on the above mentioned day, month, and year. - Fray Diego Martín García"

Because they were not born in Spain, my parents and grandparents could not claim the highest level of casta. That belonged to the peninsulares, those born in Spain. Through their 200 year residency in Mexico our family had retained its sangre azul, the blue blood of Spain, and was proud to be called español. While anyone with more than a few drops of Castillian blood claimed themselves as "spanish", we knew that many of the dark-eyed, olive skinned youth were actually coyotes or mestizos, the children of Indian women who were more often than not taken as wives. The young men who came from Spain to seek their fortune as soldiers far outnumbered the women (decent or not) who were willing to venture so far.

Juan Pablo Grijalva and Maria Dolores Valencia were both identified as 'español' in census rolls. The identification of class and race was an essential feature of Spanish colonial culture. The term "gente de razón" (people of reason) referred to the class (casta) of colonial society who were classified as having some percentage of spanish or european blood. Peninsulares (natives of Spain) were perceived as fundamentally superior to criollos (spaniards born in the americas). The mixture of European, Native, Asian, and African blood produced a multitude of categories of casta, depending on the mix and percentage of each. Social status decreased with darkness of skin. Expedition members were described as español, mestizo, mulato (african and español), indio, coyote (mestizo and indian), or pardo (español, african, and indian).

Bloodlines were carefully monitored, especially by those attempting to maintain their position at the top of the power scale. In seeking a spouse for their children, families were acutely aware that their choice could significantly raise or lower their casta or social status. Likewise, an individual of questionable background who gained land, wealth, or status could also acquire “whiteness” in the eyes of society by an advantageous marriage, especially in less closely monitored frontier regions. By the time of the second Anza expedition in 1776, most of the so-called españoles in the northern frontier towns were criollos or meztisos.

A Mexican criollo could apply for an official decree of legitimidad y limpieza de sangre (legitimacy and purity of blood) for the family name. The decree certified that the family bloodline was untainted by Jewish, African, or any other non-Christian blood.

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Spain's policy in the 1700s was the extermination of the Comcáac tribes of the northern regions of New Spain and seizure of their lands by soldiers and colonists. Colonists increasingly displaced indian communities with agricultural ventures. Wholesale seizure of Comcáac lands along with food shortages finally spurred them to rebellion.

The Presidio of San Miguel de Horcasitas was established to protect the Catholic Missions to the Comcáac Indians and to secure control of the territory from Apache incursions. Over the years of warfare neighboring farmers, ranchers, and miners abandoned their endeavors and retreated back to the safety of the Presidio. Many more farming communities were wiped out by torrential floods of 1770. The result was a shortage of food for the colonists as well as for trading with indians. Horcasitas was spilling over with settlers who dared not stray far from the walls of the Presidio.

Once the Comcáac were eventually subdued, the colonists were besieged by the Apache, who had been stealing and breeding Spanish horses over the years. The mobility and skill of their horsemen extended their range far into settled territories. The soldiers were on a continual high level of alert to protect the citizens of the pueblo.

Map 2. 1767 map of San Felipe de Gracia Real de Terrenate by José de Urrutia. NPS

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When little Carmen was old enough to travel we returned to our adobe house at Presidio Terrenate. It was small but cozy in the winter when the cold dry winds blew down from the north. The surrounding land was a thorny forest. During the torrential downpours of summer the air was hot and thick with moisture and the scent of green. In the fall the leaves dropped, the air became clear and dry, and the insects went back into their nests to await the summer rains. On cold winter days I would find a corner of the plaza to sit with my friends and their mothers, embroidering, shelling beans, and telling stories. The deep verandas kept us dry during the summer downpours and sheltered us from the winter winds.

Our neighbors, while primarily employed as soldados, also had skills as harness and saddle makers, carpenters and scribes. The community shared a communal oven supervised by Doña Chepa, whose nose was tuned to the exact stage of doneness of our daily loaves of sweet wheat bread. My mother was the finest seamstress of the Presidio and was called upon by the other women when extra skill was required.

Figure 4. Analyzing 18 th Century Lifeways. A resident's comal. Figure 5. Analyzing 18 th Century Lifeways. Mexican mano and metate.

When I awoke at dawn the las muchachas (the indian girls who served us) would have already started the kitchen fire, and begun grinding the grain on a stone metate with a hand-held mano. On arising we had a cup of atole [of Nahuatl origine - porridge of toasted ground corn, with brown sugar, cinnamon and vanilla or other flavoings] and a few tortillas. Las muchachas worked in the house; sweeping, washing clothes, carrying water and firewood, and trotting around babies. They preferred to eat their own corn meal tortillas outside under the ramada while we joined father and mother for la comida at mid-day at the dining table. La comida was most often a stew of beef with posole and wheat bread. In later years I often yearned for the comfort of the cup of hot chocolate with a soft round bread roll that we ate before bed.

On clear days we went to the river to wash our precious linens and bits of lace. Las muchachas washed the men's clothes, sheets, and towels. Soap was a rare and precious

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commodity so we used the sap of yucca stalks to wash our clothing. Washing clothes and bathing in the river was a small but delicious pleasure on days that the cool stream flowed around the sun warmed rocks under a blue sky. Because of the danger from Indian attack, soldiers were always on guard when we left the walls of the presidio. Our white undergarments hanging on the thorny bushes along the river bank signaled the boys not to approach.

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THE TRAIL I will never forget the day the great Comandante Juan Bautista de Anza appeared at the Presidio Terrenate. Don Bautista came with a commission from King Charles III himself on behalf of the Empire and the glory of God. He had been to the far northern reaches of Nueva España and had returned to recruit "gente de razon" to protect the King's lands from incursions by infidels. I looked at him in awe. Over the next year my initial awe turned to respect and trust rivaling that of the King himself.

Figure 6. Fray Orci. Portrait of Juan Bautista de Anza. 1774, NPS

English and Russian incursions into northern Spanish territories in the 1700s spurred Spain to strengthen their boundaries. At the time Alta California consisted of the modern U.S. states of California, Nevada, Arizona, Utah, western Colorado and southwestern Wyoming. As of 1770 only minor military forts had been established at Monterrey and San Diego. The Viceroy Antonio María de Bucareli y Ursúa, decreed that the bay of San Francisco should have the highest priority as the next settlement in order to protect Spanish colonial claims from foreign challengers.

Because of the difficulties and delays in ocean voyages at that time it was decided that an overland trail must be established to Alta California. A land route had been delayed because of harsh terrain and unfriendly native inhabitants. Juan Bautista de Anza Sr., father of Juan Bautista de Anza had petitioned the Viceroy to explore an overland trail before he was killed by Apaches in 1739. 13

Don Juan Bautista de Anza cultivated his father's goal to create a safe route to the northern territories. He joined the Spanish militia at the age of 15 and progressed quickly to become Comandante of the Tubac Presidio near Guevavi. He led a trial expedition to the Presidio at Monterrey in Alta California in 1774 and returned with the certainty that a colonial expedition was viable.

The colonization of the northwest would involve conversion of the indians to Catholicism through a system of missions. The missions would be paired with forts to protect a stable population of gente de razón. This system of partnered missions and presidios that had been begun by Padre Junípero Serra at San Diego and Monterrey would become and unbroken string along the coast of Alta California.

Father was proud of being hand-picked by Anza to be one of the leaders of the expedition and of the presidio that would be established in the far north. He had attained the rank of Second Corporal of the Presidio at Terrenate before being appointed by Anza to Sergeant of the Expedition to Alta California. He was pleased that his superior, Don José Joaquin Moraga, whose integrity and judgment he trusted, would be second in command to Anza.

Figure 7. Cardero, José. Monterey Soldier 1791

The Presidio soldiers of Terrenate were called soldados de cuera (leather jacket soldiers) for the thick jackets worn as standard part of their uniform. The cuera was a heavy, sleeveless coat consisting of several layers of buckskin that could repel indian arrows.

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At the age of 33 Papá knew that he had little prospects for a peaceful old age with his wife at his side and his daughters well married. He had already been wounded twice in the indian wars. Every day that passed was a day that his wife and daughters could be raped or kidnapped by a rabid indian attack. My father was inspired by Anza and already imagining the grand life we would have in the new land.

Papá believed in the promises made of title to lands and all of the supplies needed to establish a comfortable home. As an español, he could be assured of promotion to soldado distinguido and the title of "Don". He would not have considered the possibility of being called on to do manual labor. I mourned for his honor later when such labor stood between the survival of our family and starvation.

Anza obtained permission to recruit forty families to colonize San Francisco. He explained to the Viceroy “the people whom I consider best suited for the purpose and most easy to get…. were inhabitants of the alcaldía of Culiacán in Sinaloa and Fuerte in Sonora. Most of their inhabitants I have just seen submerged in the direst poverty and misery, and so I have no doubt they would most willingly and gladly embrace the advantages.” Don Bautista counted very much on their fear and misery as a motivation to migrate. All were poor but not too poor, had some prospects but not very good ones. Many of them had been ruined by the floods in 1770. All were weary to distraction of the Indian wars.

Don Bautista did not pay the soldiers in advance for supplies that would be needed to complete the campaign, knowing that they would gamble cash away on horse races and card games. Each colonist would receive 2 years pay (varying depending on their rank), rations for 5 years to be supplied by periodic supply boat from Mexico, and cattle, as well as clothing and household goods valued at approximately $800 in today's dollars.

We prepared to travel through the wasteland to reach the "Promised Land" described by Don Bautista. Some of the colonists came with us from Terrenate. The greatest numbers were from the Villa Sinaloa de Leyva. Mother was well acquainted with many of them because her father had grown up in nearby Culiacan and counted many primos and compadres among the soldados of the Villa Sinaloa. All of the members of the party had felt the backside of the hand of God, either by his works directly or by way of the malditos indios. We pictured a land of green forests, running streams, and plentiful game - and most of all peace and security.

It would be many years before that hope was realized. I was 9 years old when we set off on the journey. I would not have faced the venture with such excitement had I known of the cold, hunger, and fear for my life that was to come. There were many days when I doubted if I would survive the trip. 15

Two hundred forty people were chosen for the expedition that would travel 1,800 miles from San Miguel de Horcasitas to San Francisco. Without the civilizing effect of women and family, the Viceroy (and Father Serra) believed that single men were unlikely to make permanent homes in Alta California. As a result, women and children represented a large portion of the expedition. There were 34 women, 115 children, and 3 priests in addition to soldiers, mule drivers, vaqueros and servants. Padres Pedro Font, Francisco Garcés, and Thomas Eixarch would minister to the indians in their new home.

They took enough supplies for the long journey and to sustain themselves in the new land until provisions could be replenished by spanish ships. This would be their only source of sustenance until they could produce their own food. The colonists could only take horses, cattle and mules. They were not allowed to take sheep or chickens. They would have to wait until animals could be sent by ship in the future. Each man, woman, and child received an identical set of clothing. The utilitarian nature of their uniform ensured that previous racial and class status would be camouflaged.

We had to wait at Terrenate while the rest the expedition gathered in San Miguel de Horcasitas the summer of 1775. My friend Maria Gertrudis Bojorques later told me about the uproar of preparations there. Families arrived from all over the northern territories. The greatest stir was when the contingent arrived from Villa Sinaloa - twenty-eight families of soldiers and farmers, españoles and mestizos. Only soldiers who had a worthy caballo arrived mounted. The rest walked, carrying prized possessions that would mostly be left in the plaza of Horcasitas when they departed.

Supplies for the caravan were brought in and piled up within the walls of the Presidio. The people were not allowed to enter as bags of corn and bales of cloth rose into mountains. The children did manage to sneak peeks while the guards were bringing in the loaded wagons. Hats, stockings, shawls, shoes, ribbon, trousers, and boots - no one had ever seen such a storehouse of goods. On the other side were piled tents, tools, comales, kettles, and food. The loads of wheat, corn, beans, chocolate, and sugar looked like enough to feed a pueblo for years. While everyone was supposed to receive equal allotments, the table of the Comandante and the Padres also included wine, cheese, saffron, olive oil, and spices.

Corrals were built especially for the horses, cattle, and mules that would carry us to our destination. The air was thick with dust and the bawling of cattle as they swirled around the enclosures feeling the terror of the approaching unknown.

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Terrenate Presidio

Map 3. Map of the Anza Expedition trail. National Park Service. http://www.nps.gov/juba

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Meanwhile Papá was organizing those who would join the procession in Tubac. I wondered which girls of my age would be in the company - and even more exciting - which boys. I knew that my friend Trudi Peralta would be by my side as well as her handsome older brother Pedro.

On the morning of September 29, 1775, Padre Pedro Font celebrated mass in the Cathedral at Horcasitas to celebrate the departure. Pr. Font announced that the principal patroness of the expedition was the Most Holy Virgin, our Lady of Guadalupe with St. Miguel de Horcasitas as co-patron. Pr. Font exhorted the group to follow the example of the Jews wandering in the desert and crossing the Red Sea before arriving in the land of milk and honey.

One hundred seventy seven men, women, and children headed for Presidio Tubac, where they would meet with the rest of the colonists, including the Grijalva family. The travelers reached Tubac on October 15, 1775 and departed a week later on October 23. From Tubac, the expedition left with 240 people, 695 horses and mules, and 355 head of cattle.

On his arrival in Tubac Don Bautista sent Papá to bring us there from Terrenate. Even on that first short leg of the journey we had to travel at night concealed by darkness from the hostile Apaches.

Mother and I were astonished when we saw that the clothing assigned to us for the journey was the same as that of the coyotes and mulattas who accompanied their husbands. Because of the strict baggage allotment, we were not permitted to take any of the few precious objects that had been handed down for generations. Mother's rosary of carnelian red beads and a small box of silver buttons were all that she carried to remind her of her distinguished family's past. She knew that she would not see her mother or father again in this life.

List of supplies alloted to Women and Girls:

Wardrobe for a Woman 3 shirts at 4 pesos 3 pairs of white Puebla petticoats at 12 reales 2 pairs of petticoats, some of silk serge, others of thick flannel, and an underskirt 2 varas of linen stuff for two linings at 5 reales 2 pairs of Brussels stockings at 4 1/2 reales 2 pairs of hose at 2 reales 2 pairs of shoes at 6 reales 2 women's shawls at 12 reales 1 hat 6 varas of ribbon

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Clothing for [ninety] Girls

270 varas of linen stuff for shirts at 5 reales 4 pieces of Puebla cloth6 6 for petticoats and linings at 6 pesos 90 cloths for women's shawls of all sizes at 10 reales 2 pieces of thick flannel for little petticoats at 45 pesos 4 pieces of cloth of about 34 varas for undershirts at 12 reales 12 pieces of ribbon for bands 16 ditto of fine rope 8 dozen shoes for girls of various sizes at 4 pesos 120 blankets, single bed size for all at 15 reales 120 shepherds blankets (ponchos) at 5 reales

1 vara = + yard, 1 league = + 3 miles

The procession of horses, mules, and cattle that finally left Tubac stretched out for a mile. Don Bautista led the way, followed by the 3 priests and their attendants, then Don José Joaquin Moraga and Papá, then the soldiers, the wives and children of the soldiers, and the other colonists, finally followed by the mule drivers and cattle herders.

Figure 8. Cleveland National Forest. CA Photo by A. S. Yorba

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There were only 13 tents to shelter all of us. Don Moraga was obliged to leave his wife and son behind in Terrenate so he shared a hearth with us. We also shared a tent with our friends from Terrenate, the Peralta family: Don Gabriel, Doña Francisca (Pancha), and their four children: Juan José (18), Luis Maria (17) Pedro Regalado (11) and Maria Gertrudis (Trudi age 9). The men and older boys slept outside like the vaqueros with only their cloaks and blankets for shelter. Doña Pancha and her daughter Trudi shared our tent at night as well as everything else for the next 15 months. Many nights we comforted each other when it seemed that hope was lost.

Figure 9. Mule train at Anza Borrego State Park. Anza Borrego Desert State park Magazine http://www.parks.ca.gov/pages/638/files/anza-borrego%20desert%20state%20park%20magazine.pdf

Every morning on the trail was the same routine. As we had no carts but only mules, all baggage had to be unloaded every night and reloaded every morning. The morning stars were still visible when the shouts of the mule drivers woke us. Their whistles and shouts mingled with the snorting of horses, braying of mules and bellowing of oxen. The dust kicked up by stirring livestock made it difficult to stay asleep even if one could block out their noise.

At the first hint of dawn Pr. Font began singing "el Alabado" to which we would join in while rising. Fires that had been banked the night before were blown into life and water heated for the morning atole and chocolate to sustain us through the day. To prepare the chocolate we roasted and ground cacao beans the night before. In the morning the chocolate paste was frothed with my favorite molinillo in hot water, sugar, and cinnamon to fill the men's waiting chocolateras. The warm and fragrant drink fueled the morning preparations.

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Figure 10. Metate for grinding chocolate http://janeaustensworld.wordpress.com/2008/08/09/hot-chocolate-18th-19th-century-style/

Figure 11. Chocolatera Figure 12. Batidor & molinillos http://www.marketmanila.com/archives/batidor-batirol-molinillo-chocolatera-atbp

With hours to pack up in the morning and hours to unload and set up camp every evening, we did not travel far in a day. Women, infants, and small children rode horses or mules. It was easy for us older children to keep up with the lumbering caravan on foot. My friends and I often ran ahead to the next hill to see if we could spot the advance scouts, hoping that the stopping place for that day was in view. The older boys ranged only a short distance from the trail to hunt rabbits and other small game. We were protected by soldiers, but the threat of indian attack was always present.

When the order came to stop at the end of the day we made fires for the evening meal. Each tent formed a hearth that welcomed the men traveling without women. The boys

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went out to gather firewood. The younger girls took care of the babies. I helped Mother to put up the tent and prepare the evening meal. Each evening I ground corn and wheat for fresh tortillas and pinole the next morning. Mother would carefully unpack la olla holding the beans that had been soaking since the previous night. The pot was soon bubbling over the fire with a savory stew made from small game the boys had brought in or dried beef from our stores. Once fed and settled we gathered to say the Rosary and fell early to sleep. We were fortunate to sleep safely in our tent while the men took turns patrolling the territory for indians and other predatory animals.

The first night out of Tubac Doña Manuela Pinuelas de Felix fell ill with labor pains. Carmen, Trudi, and I tried to block out her desperate moans. The baby was coming feet first and produced in his mother the most frightening wails. She was attended by Doña Feliciana Arballo, who managed to pull the resisting child from her body alive. But the strain on the mother was too much and she died shortly after. Another nursing mother took the baby, José Antonio Capistrano, to suckle alongside of her own child. Doña Manuela's seven other motherless children were gathered under the wings of the women in the train.

At least eight women were pregnant when the party departed Tubac. Of the eight – three resulted in live births, and five ended with miscarriages. Doña Manuela was the only death of the journey. There were three weddings on the third day of the journey: Ignacio de Higuera and Maria Micaela Bojorques; Tiburcio Vasquez and Maria Antonia Bojorques; Gregorio Antonio Sandoval and Maria Dolores Ontiveros. Maria Feliciana Arballo, a widow who traveled with her 2 daughters was the only family headed by a woman. Pr. Font vehemently opposed the inclusion of this “somewhat discordant” young woman, arguing that she had no male guidance or protection, and should thus be left behind in Tubac. He was overruled by Anza.

Every day one beef was slaughtered and butchered to provide food for the travelers. Trudi and I tried to shove to the front of the line to get the tender parts of those tough vacas. As the weeks went on they became even tougher after traversing miles of harsh desert. I thought of my chickens and goats back in Terrenate and realized how much less pleasant life would be without eggs to make a cake or a tenderly stewed young goat. I trusted that God would provide.

As we traveled north, Pima and Yuma Indians who had previously befriended Don Bautista and the padres began to appear. I was horrified when they arrived carrying the scalps of two Apaches as evidence of their friendship with the españoles. They were grateful to Don Bautista for helping them to establish peace between their tribes in order to unite against their common enemy, the Apache. Their incessant warfare had been resolved through the grace of our Lord Jesus Christ with the intercession of Don Bautista.

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As we approached the indian village of Juturitucan the indios lined up to greet us. They were completely naked, ugly, and dark and smelled bad. Though a horrible spectacle, we were transported by the women's hypnotic singing and dancing that went on throughout the night. They surprised us by the tender kindness they showed in their curiosity toward the women and children. They had only seen men before. The indios only came to believe that the españoles were really human when women and children appeared by their side.

Wherever people gathered to watch and listen, Pr. Font told the natives of the rewards of belief in Jesus Christ and his Holy Mother. The poor indios were deeply affected by the banner he carried showing the Virgin Mary. They offered their full breasts to images of the baby Jesus. They wailed and fell to the ground when he showed them the horrors of hell that would be their destiny if they rejected Holy Mother Church.

We were relieved to reach Las Lagunas de Hospital where there appeared to be abundant water and pasturage. Soon one woman fell ill and then another. Then the animals became ill. Mother warned us to stay close together and take nothing to eat or drink. Don Bautista determined that the water was to blame. But we could not move on until the invalids were well enough to travel. While we waited he had water brought from the Gila River, 3 leagues [3.45 miles] away. After two weeks on the trail I was becoming anxious about the tribulations to come.

As we traveled further from home the nights grew colder. I had never felt such a chill before, even in the harsh north winds of winter. There was a skin of ice on top of the chamber pot when I went to empty it in the morning. I was grateful for the warmth of our broad spreading skirts of heavy cloth with thick petticoats underneath. We were protected in our tent at night and rejoiced that no troubles had befallen any of our family.

A month after leaving Tubac we celebrated the birth of little Diego Pascual Gutierrez and the health of his mother. It was scandalous that she should have to mount a horse and ride on in only a few days without observing 'la cuarentena'. But the herds of livestock had eaten all the pasturage and it was necessary to continue.

La cuarentena is a period of 40 days of rest, isolation, and purification in many latin american cultures. The new mother's body must be allowed to 'close' properly. Traditionally she does not bathe, have sex, or leave the house with the infant for the entire period. She must be protected from cold air, especially her head, back, and feet. Particular foods are required to sustain the woman and child's health.

As the rules of la cuarentena were impossible to observe properly, the women did their best to keep the mother wrapped up and protected from the increasing cold. We tried to

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find for her the herbs and foods that would help her body to close and to nourish the baby. While crossing rivers she was carefully protected from the effects of cold water. And of course her husband would not even consider coming any nearer than to tickle el niñito under the chin.

As we continued west it was evident that Don Bautista was looking forward to meeting again with Chief Salvador Palma. They fell on each others' necks with joy when they met. The warmth of feeling was so evident between them that it lessened the shock of the sight of Don Bautista in the arms of a heathen. Chief Palma was eager to have us stay in his lands and teach his people our beliefs and ways of life. It was clear that our friendship added greatly to Chief Palma's power and prestige among neighboring tribes.

Don Bautista presented Palma with a baton as a symbol of our King's esteem, signifying authority over his tribe. He also gave him a suit worthy of a Spanish official; a blue coat with gold trim and a plumed velvet hat. Dressed in the clothing of a "gente de razon", one could almost believe that he carried a soul that might find grace in the eyes of God.

The feast to celebrate the friendship of the Spanish with the Yuma tribes and their allies was astounding. Dancing went far into the night. We were kept strictly apart from the children of the village. But a few of them did sneak into our camp to satisfy their curiosity about what manner of offspring the soldiers might have. They could not stop touching our long silky hair and the fabric of our garments. As we departed they gave us beans, calabashes, maize, grains and watermelons as a sign of their friendship. Sated with food and optimism that the forces of this wild land were not universally bent on our destruction, we continued.

I was sad to learn that Padres Garcés and Exiarch were staying to minister to the indios. They always had a kind word and a smile, even for a child. Pr. Font was a dour presence who only became more stern as the hardships increased.

Reaching the banks of the Colorado River, I looked toward the far shore. I knew that once I had crossed I would never return. I was thinking of home more fondly than ever. But Don Bautista reassured us that we would indeed be brought safely through the waters to reach our "Promised Land". Although the great river appeared deep and wide to our eyes, the indians assured us that horses would be able to cross without being swept away. The Yuma women were even stronger in the water than the men as they swam back and forth carrying our possessions in baskets on their heads. The children were placed with their mothers on the strongest horses. Ten men surrounded each horse in order to rescue us in the event of being carried downstream by the powerful current. I was terrified when my sister Carmen was almost swept away before being caught by steady hands downstream.

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Our company was joined by members of various tribes as we proceeded. They were quite bothersome as they constantly wanted to press against us and touch everything that was within reach. Although still frightened, I became accustomed to their attentions and learned to appreciate their harmless nature.

We thought that the crossing of the Great River would be the most severe trial for some time to come, but the troubles were only beginning. The night of December 4 was so cold that 2 horses died. Many of the party were ill and we worried for their survival through the night. Carmen and Trudi and I huddled together in the tent with Mother and Doña Pancha. On those long cold nights Trudi and I whispered to each other our dreams for the future to distract from the pain and fear of the moment.

Dawn arrived the next morning with the customary singing of el Alabado and the shouts of the muleteers loading their animals. The Laguna de Santa Olalla was the last clean water and abundant food that we would see for many days. Papá pointed out the mountains to the west and said that our destination lay beyond those mountains. I felt that if I looked hard enough perhaps I could see a little warm casita waiting for us on the other side.

Again the indios came to our aid, bringing grains and fruits and fish from the lake. They brought so many watermelons that we could not carry them with us. Over the following days I often thought of those sweet juicy watermelons, a treasure above gold that we left sitting by the side of the lake.

Don Bautista told us of the perils of the Great Desert [Colorado Desert] that lay before us. Staying alive one more day became the only concern. At this point Don Bautista split the caravan into 3 groups to make the desert crossing. Water holes depleted by the first group would have time to refill overnight before the arrival of the next.

Anza divided the expedition into three groups to start at 24-hour intervals so that they would arrive at wells one day apart: the first group was led by Anza, the second by Grijalva and the third by Moraga. The first group left on December 9, the last group arrived at San Sebastian on December 18, 1775.

Trudi and I cried to be separated for this perilous part of the journey. I wondered if we would ever see each other again and become comadres to each others' children as we had promised.

The relationship between parents and compadres (co-parents) was a fundamental social bond between families of the time. At a child's baptism the padrino and madrina (god-parents) promised to help care for the spiritual and physical needs of the child as if he were their own. Compadrazgo was and still is the basis of a lifetime bond between families.

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For the next seven days we endured extreme cold, finding barely enough water to keep together body and soul. The bitter cold and wind increased our exhaustion. Those of us who could walk did so, in order that the mothers with small children and those who were ill could ride the horses. The second day of the crossing was my first encounter with snow. I had seen the glistening mantilla that lay across the tops of mountains around our valley on the coldest nights of winter. From a distance it seemed clean and pure. Close up it was cruel and piercing - penetrating all protection that I could assemble to hold in the warmth of my body that seemed so small and helpless. There was not enough firewood to keep burning through the night. We burrowed under our blankets soon after dark. Doña Pancha so suffered from the cold that her fingers and toes turned black and we were afraid that she would lose them.

I was alarmed to hear on the morning of the seventh day that many of our horses had disappeared in the night. Papá and four soldados went out to pursue the thieves, leaving us frightened of every noise and foul wind that did not herald their return. The fear that the savages who had taken them would return to kill us in our weakened state was exhausting. The cowardly thieves were still in hiding when our men found the horses being guarded by the women. The joy that I felt when I saw Papá and his men approaching with the stolen horses warmed me even in that frozen wasteland.

Figure 13. Looking toward San Sebastian, Anza Borrego Desert State Park, February 2011. Near San Sebastian, photo by A. S. Yorba

Seven days after beginning the crossing we arrived at place called San Sebastian that marked the end of the waterless wasteland. We rejoiced to meet with the members of Don Bautista's party, who had arrived the previous day. With the arrival of Don Joaquín Moraga and his group we truly celebrated. Although Don Joaquín was suffering severely from a frozen ear and many of his party were afflicted by cold and thirst, all arrived alive. Many horses and cattle froze to death on the passage.

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The observation of the feast of Our Lady of Guadalupe was delayed five days until December 17 when the entire company arrived safely at San Sebastian. The three groups were relieved to be reunited with no loss of life. Don Bautista passed out a ration of brandy to celebrate the end of the treacherous crossing. Feliciana de Arballo joined the celebration with some rather bawdy songs. Pr. Font wrote: “a very bold widow sang some verses that were not at all nice.”

Until the night of the fandango I had no idea what delight could inhabit the body of a woman. I had eagerly watched the dances that were held at the Presidio at Terrenate to celebrate special occasions. But I had never seen a woman move like Doña Feliciana. Even as a young girl I could feel warmth radiate from deep within me. The rest of the women were infected by her joy and jumped up to join her. The suffering of our journey evaporated for a moment as the pleasure of life re-emerged into the world.

Padre Font was furious and demanded that Don Bautista stop the festivities. He believed that we should have been praying rather than engaging in such revelry. He became absolutely livid when Don Bautista defended Doña Feliciana against Pr. Font's disapproval and even prevented her from being beaten by her lover after the fandango. He was a kind father to all of us, even when one was misbehaving.

Doña Maria Feliciana Arballo was different from the rest of the women. We obeyed our priests, fathers, husbands, and finally our sons. She obeyed only herself. The women of my pueblo dared not speak aloud the disparaging thoughts about her that lay beneath the surface. But Don Bautista had many ears throughout the camp and would allow no discord to be cultivated.

Mother told me to stay away from Doña Feliciana. But we older girls found ways to linger near her tent. I would run to collect her little Tomasa and Estaquia in hopes of getting a treat or a sweet smile from their mother. Los muchachos also could not help themselves from sneaking by on their way to collect firewood. Our fathers knew better than to be caught letting their attention wander toward those knowing eyes.

Much later I learned from Doña Feliciana that she had defied her parents for the love of a common soldier with no family connections or rank of casta. God's punishment was to take him away in an Indian attack shortly before the expedition. Many were surprised that Don Bautista allowed her to travel without a husband. Perhaps it was from compassion for some lonely soldado in California for whom she might provide solace as a strong wife.

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I thought that there would be some relief after crossing the Great Desert. It was still is so cold that we shivered together in our tent all night, afraid to sleep lest one of us sink so far into dreams of warm hearthstones that she forget to breathe. I drank as little water as possible so that there will be more for the younger children and nursing mothers. But my belly hurt constantly with the grinding pain of hunger and thirst. We started the day with a warm cup of atole. The mid-day meal was a few tortillas. In the evening we looked forward to a warm bean stew with perhaps a few chunks of meat from whatever the hunters have found - or a horse or cow who could not manage another step.

We knew we were entering a different world by the curious behavior of the indios. We had expected bloodthirsty marauders streaming down from the jagged rocks lining our path. But we found pitiful creatures who were hard to look at without laughing. To speak, they did a comical dance and made strange grumbling noises. Mother warned us not to mock them by imitating their strange behaviour. She was afraid they might try to steal us.

The nights grew longer and colder as we awaited el día de la Navidad. Even though winters in Terrenate were chilled by the bitter wind gusting across the desert from the mountains; even though we lived in fear of los salvajes sweeping over the pueblo walls; even though. . . I remember how warm we were snuggled on the ledge next to the horno. Mother toasting sweet treats on the comal; Papá sitting off to the side, whittling a doll for Carmen. As I rode on top of a swayback mule with an icy wind down my neck, I imagined sitting near a fireplace, anticipating the swirl of butter and honey on top of a warm buñuelo.

Somehow I had hoped that la Navidad would bring a miracle and I would awake to look out upon the land of milk and honey that Don Bautista had promised. Our people were becoming giddy with the prospect. Miraculously, Mother had hidden away enough clean flour and sugar to make a few small buñuelos to celebrate the eve of the birth of the Christ child. Don Bautista distributed a ration of brandy to the adults to celebrate the holiday.

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In the midst of raucous songs and laughter, the cries of Doña Gertrudis Linares penetrated the cold night air as she labored to deliver her child. She had already suffered so on the journey that I feared for her safety. I suppose if she has already delivered her first five children in pain and suffering she can do it again. Doña. Feliciana attended her. It was a great relief to hear the vigorous cries of little Salvador Ygnacio Linares.

We were awakened late the morning of la Navidad by the sounds of men snoring away their drink from the night before. It was strange to arise and walk through the camp without the shouts of the mule drivers and the snorts and wheezing of animals being loaded; the mothers shouting at their children to hurry through the morning chores and prepare to set off. There in the high desert the silent morning air was clear as the spanish crystal goblets hidden in Don Bautista's trunks. Trudi and I wandered through the camp like ghosts committing to memory the sights and sounds of that moment.

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ALTA CALIFORNIA

The next day as we climbed the last mountain pass before entering the lands promised to us by Our Lord and by Carlos el Rey, we were thrown to the ground by a violent trembling of the earth. Boulders crashed down hillsides. Horses stumbled to regain their footing. It seemed to go on forever. I wondered if this was a message from el Dios that we were about to step on holy ground.

Figure 14. Cleveland National Forest, CA. Photo by A. S. Yorba

The rolling of the earth finally subsided and we continued the rigorous climb to the pass that showed in the distance. So many times had I looked ahead to a similar notch hoping that the prospect on the other side would be better than what we had already endured. And this time it was different! A broad valley spread out before us. The mountains ringing the sky to the north were still covered with snow. But the valley floor showed hints of green. A bountiful stream of fresh water beckoned.

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The air became warmer as we proceeded up the broad valley. Even so I shivered at the sight of snow covering the nearby mountains. Don Bautista told us that we were nearing our first destination, Mission San Gabriel Arcángel. This time when the scouts rode ahead to announce our arrival, I had no fear that they would fail to return.

A few days later we crossed a wide, strong, swiftly moving river called El Río de Santa Ana. Don Bautista said that we could camp there near the fresh water for a few days while awaiting the messengers from Mission San Gabriel. It was difficult to keep the horses and cattle from sickening themselves by gorging on fresh green growth. The children were sent out to pick tender greens from the stream banks. I savored the taste of new life. Pr. Font showed us the wild canes of grape and blackberry that bring forth fruit in the summer. He told us that the land was very much like our homeland of España.

El Río de Santa Ana was first called El Rio del Dulcissimo Nombre de Jesus de los Temblores (River of the Sweet Name of Jesus of the Earthquakes) for the violent tremors that shake its banks. The name was later changed to honor the feast day of Santa Ana. Pr. Font described the valley of the Santa Ana, the future home of the Josefa: "In the first and second range of hills and their canyons, which are of moist earth, I saw a great abundance of rosemary and other fragrant plants, and in the second long canyon many sunflowers in bloom, and grapevines and wild grapes of such good stock that it looked like a vineyard; and perhaps with a little cultivation they would yield good grapes. In short, all that country appears to be good, and if the small hills which are in these valleys only had some trees there would be nothing more to desire." The landscape was “entirely distinct from the rest of America which I have seen; and in the grasses and the flowers of the fields, and also in the fact that the rainy season is in winter, it is very similar to Spain.”

As we approached Mission San Gabriel Archángel on January 4, 1776 I pretended that the ringing of mission bells and the cannonade of welcoming shots were in honor of my tenth birthday. It had been 73 days since we set out from Tubac. It felt like 10 years. I remember thinking that Mother should begin to treat me like a señorita instead of one of the chiquillos running around underfoot.

My thrill at our long anticipated arrival at the mission was diminished by the reality. The low stone and mud buildings that housed the padres and the few soldados who protect them were very crude. But the cultivated fields and herds of cattle that surrounded the mission promised a respite from the cold, hunger, and thirst that we felt for so long.

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I believed it was a good sign that the Royal Gobernador of Alta California himself Gov. Fernando Rivera y Moncada, accompanied by the Royal Catalonian Volunteers, was there to welcome us to San Gabriel. But they brought terrifying news. Residents of the San Diego mission had awakened to find themselves engulfed by fire under attack by natives. The mission priest Pr. Jaume, several Spaniards and a number of neofitos had been killed. Gov. Rivera was on the way to reinforce a handful of soldiers who had held off 800 - 1,000 attacking natives. He took Don Bautista, Papá, and a number of our soldiers to San Diego with him to hunt down and punish the rebellious Indians in San Diego. I was filled with dread to see the backs of our protectors: Papá, Don Bautista, Don Peralta, and our best soldiers disappearing into the distance. It appeared that this land was as perilous as that we had left. Our numbers were few and we survived only by the grace of God. If the thousands of natives of this land ever united, they could have killed us every one. we would still be living under the constant danger of annihilation.

Figure 15. The brutal death of Father Luís Jayme by the hands of angry natives at Mission San Diego de Alcalá, November 4, 1775 (artist unknown). The Journal of San Diego History, San Diego Historical Society Quarterly, Winter 1976, Volume 22, Number 1

Eight hundred indigenas (native peoples) from more than 70 rancherías (indian villages) participated in a rebellion that was fueled by the soldiers' rape of native women as reported by Padre Jayme. He himself had predicted that the soldiers' behavior would result in disastrous retaliation. The native people of the region missed their best opportunity to strike a fatal blow to their conquerors. Never again would there be so few spaniards to face so many indios. It was a grand stroke of luck for the spanish colonists that Anza's forces arrived at just the right time to join with those of Rivera and the remains of the San Diego presidio.

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Neophyte (neofito) is the term for natives who have accepted baptism and the authority of the Catholic Church. They (usually) lived at the missions under the supervision of the Padres. There they were taught Catholic doctrine, agriculture, and colonial civilization. The initial scheme was that the mission lands cultivated by the indians would be turned over to them once they had become sufficiently 'civilized'. Even so, they would not have the same rights as the gente de razón. Those natives who did not accept the new religion were called gentiles and did not receive material benefits from the missionaries or colonists.

Figure 16. A Catalonian Volunteer, Presidio de San Diego, 1769. Los Angeles County Museum

The Royal Catalonian Volunteers who arrived with Gov. Rivera were recruited from the Spanish district of Catalonia for service in Nueva España. This contingent that included José Antonio Yorba was familiar to Anza and Grijalva from joint military action in the Pimería Alta against the Pima and Seri indians in 1767. In 1768, Lieutenant Pedro Fages and a detachment of 25 Catalonian Volunteers left Sonora to join the expedition of Gaspar de Portolà with Padre Junípero Serra to establish Spanish control of Alta California. Most of the Catalonians were posted at the Presidio of Monterrey with Gov. Rivera.

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I could not have guessed that one of those soldiers who met us at San Gabriel with Gov. Rivera was my future husband, José Antonio Yorba. Antonio later told me that he was astounded to come upon this gathering of spanish women and children. He had seen no españolas since leaving Mexico 5 years earlier. At that moment he sorely regretted his decision to marry a native woman, now that all these beautiful young women de pura sangre had appeared.

Though bedraggled after years on the frontier, the Catalonians' costume was still striking. Antonio wore a blue woolen jacket with a yellow waistcoat and red collar, and blue breeches. In comparison our soldados de cuera appeared lumpy and mud colored. Only Papá and Don Joaquín could compare in their officers' uniforms of blue jackets with red cuffs and collar. Even though the blue jackets had faded to gray, the red collar was still bold.

We enjoyed the hospitality and security of the Mission San Gabriel with Prs. Cambon and Somera and their neofitos while waiting for our men to return from San Diego. It soon became clear that their food supplies were being quickly consumed by our party. The mission had been established only five years previously by Pr. Serra. The priests and soldiers still relied on shipments of grain and supplies from Mexico to keep from starvation. We had arrived at a time when the anticipated arrival of a supply ship was far overdue. Fortunately, we still had a few bags of grain and the indios showed us how to gather acorns and other wild foods to augment our diminishing supplies.

Our stay in San Gabriel was my first experience with mission life in Alta California. As in Sonora, the adobe buildings were formed in the shape of a large square. The outer walls were unbroken other than the entrance gate. The doors to the inner rooms from the courtyard could be locked from the outside. The female converts were allowed to live with their parents to a certain age and then were brought into the monjerío (monastery). They were locked into the girls' quarters at sunset and released in the morning to work. They were allowed to leave only when they were married to a neofito man approved by the padres. I could understand their pain to be separated from their families. The women and children of our party were given adjoining rooms to share as best we could.

For over a month we waited in fear that our men might not return from their venture to put down the uprising at San Diego. I wondered would happen to us if all the indios of the region joined together to repel our occupation of these lands? I had faith that our Lord and Savior could not have brought us so far to abandon us to the howling barbarians. I was thankful for the brave presence of Don Moraga, who stayed at San Gabriel to reassure us of the impossibility of defeat.

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During our stay I worked alongside the indias who labored at the mission. The padres asked us to teach them to sew and other skills appropriate to a spanish housewife. Some of them had learned a few words of spanish. I learned a few words in the Tongva language that helped me later when I came to live on the Río Santa Ana. They also taught us how to milk the half-wild cattle. One girl held the head of the animal, one held the tail, a third held the bucket with one hand and milked with the other.

Papá finally returned from San Diego with Don Bautista after successfully subduing the revolt. Gov. Rivera stayed behind with a contingent of soldiers to make sure that the perpetrators were punished. The fresh supplies that we had expected from San Diego turned out to be a few baskets of wormy corn and beans. Don Bautista announced that he and Don Moraga would go ahead with half of our group toward Monterrey. Papá was left in charge of thirteen families waiting at San Gabriel for the rest of the soldados to return from San Diego.

I was sick to death of that place that beckoned so warmly when we alighted from our passage through the desert. We were in limbo, unable to build for the future, nor enjoy the fruits of past efforts. After four months of living with crowding and hunger at San Gabriel, we were ready to complete our journey. We settled into a pattern of searching for food and firewood, and continuous washing to try to rid ourselves of persistent fleas, lice, and bedbugs.

The news that Don Moraga and our companions had reached Monterrey came from a group of soldiers on their way south to join Gov. Rivera in San Diego. They said our friends arrived safely and were warmly greeted by Pr. Serra. They would wait for us before continuing on to the north. I devoutly hoped that our destination at Monterrey would be more welcoming than San Gabriel.

It was a great surprise the day we saw dear Don Bautista approaching from the north! We greeted him as our adopted father. Before we had a chance to beg Don Bautista for his blessing, he closeted himself with the padres and Papá. I was shocked by the news that Don Bautista was on his way back to Mexico. After the long delays at San Gabriel and Monterrey, he could no longer postpone his return. I was fearful of continuing on without his leadership.

Don Bautista brought Papá orders to depart San Gabriel for Monterrey with the remaining members of our party. It was time to proceed with the establishment of the new Presidio at San Francisco. He told Papá of his explorations with Don Joaquín and Pr. Palóu to determine the locations of the Presidio and the Mission. He felt satisfied that the sites had been well chosen and that we would achieve our purpose without his guiding hand. I cried into Mother's shoulder as Don Bautista with Pr. Font and his group made their way back along the road that brought us here.

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Figure 17. Bell Canyon, CA. Photo by A. S. Yorba

On May 7, 1776 we embarked on the wide trail north as the green hills burst into blooms of orange and purple. Life seemed to hold promise again. We looked forward to reuniting with our friends who were awaiting our arrival in Monterrey.

Two weeks later in Monterrey we were thrilled to greet our compañeros whom we had not seen for over three months. I felt honored to meet Padre Serra at Mission San Cárlos de Borromeo. Pr. Serra's assistant, Pr. Francisco Palóu had accompanied Don Bautista on his explorations of San Francisco. He would escort us to our destination and remain as our spiritual shepherd.

Dissension had developed between Pr. Serra, Gov. Rivera, and Don Bautista. Pr. Serra and Don Bautista had orders from the King to establish a new Presidio at San Francisco. Gov. Rivera was reluctant to commit troops, settlers, and missionaries to an outpost so far to the north. He wanted the colonists to build homes in Monterrey and reinforce the existing community. He believed that the chosen site for the new settlement was too cold and damp. Until a decision was made the travelers had to wait in Monterrey camped in the tents that they had occupied for seven months, still waiting for essential supplies by ship from Mexico.

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There was great celebration when Captain Quirós finally arrived at Monterrey on June 3 with the 'San Carlos' - the supply ship from San Blas. At last our food supplies were replenished. The Captain also brought direct orders from Viceroy Antonio María de Bucareli y Ursúa to proceed with the establishment of the Presidio at San Francisco. The stalemate between Pr. Serra and Gov. Rivera was broken and we prepared to depart. Capt. Quirós took all of our tools, furniture, extra clothing and surplus food stores on the 'San Carlos' to be transported to our destination by sea.

Don Joaquín Moraga was appointed the Commandante of the San Francisco Presidio. But at the last moment he was delayed in Monterrey and asked Papá to lead the tired group of pilgrims on the final leg of the journey to the Promised Land.

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SAN FRANCISCO

Map 4. Peninsula of San Francisco, Map of Explorations. Bancroft v. I, 281.

I was proud of Papá as he led the caravan on the final march toward our destination on June 17, 1776. After eight months of painful travel across 1,800 miles of wilderness we would soon arrive at the home entrusted to us by our Divine Father. He provided a herd of elk when we barely had enough strength to continue after living on corn and beans for too long. We filled ourselves with the meat and thanked Him for bringing us to a country where wild game fed us like manna from heaven.

A week later we saw human shapes silhouetted at the crest of the hill - too far to hail. As another group came out of the forest toward us, the hilltop scouts disappeared. Those who approached us gestured to let us know that they were friendly and had chased away the aggressors. We later learned to call these Indians 'Ssalson'. The hilltop shadows were Lamchin raiders who apparently had been trailing us from the south.

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Map 5. Creek and Watershed Map of San Francisco, South Peninsula. Ramirez-Herrera, Teresa, Janet M. Sowers,Christopher Richard & Robin Grossinger, Oakland Museum of California, 2007

We set up our tents near the Laguna de Nuestra Señora de los Dolores. The banks of the arroyo were covered with chamomile, herbs, and wild violets. The corn and garbanzo beans that Don Bautista planted when he was there in April had grown and thrived. Indeed without irrigation or protection from wild animals and indians, a few plants were almost ready to harvest. The children were charged with keeping the 200 head of cattle from muddying the water near our campsite.

Font described the site: “As for me, I judged that this place was very fine, and the best for establishing on it one of the two missions.... We moved a little, and from a slight elevation I observed that the direction of the bay was toward the east- southeast. Near this hill, in the direction of the bay, there is a good piece of level land, into which the Arroyo de los Dolores enters suddenly like a falls as it emerges from the hills. By means of its water all the land could be irrigated, and at the falls, which is very suitable for the purpose, a mill could be operated.”

Padre Palóu sanctified out new home with a Holy Mass on the feast day of Saints Peter and Paul (June 29). The padres conducted the Sacrament under a ramada of branches just as our Lord Jesus Christ might have. I felt much safer with body and soul protected the sacraments.

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Anza's earlier reconnaissance followed the shore to the southeast along the bay. They followed a tidal inlet extending inland from the Enseñada de los Llorones ("Cove of the Weepers" - now Mission Bay) up the Arroyo de los Dolores (Mission Creek) that drained a lake previously called Laguna de Manantial (Spring Lake).

The Laguna de Manantial was rechristened by the Padres La Laguna de Nuestra Señora de los Dolores because the day of its discovery was the next to last Friday in Lent. As there was irrigable land around it, and as its location was only one league from the Presidio, they established the site of the present Mission San Francisco de Asís. The name is commonly interchanged with "Mission Dolores" because of its location along the Arroyo de los Dolores.

The Laguna de los Dolores was in the area now bounded by Fifteenth, Twentieth, Valencia and South Van Ness Ave. In the 1870s it was known as Lake McCoppin and was filled in during the 1870s. The lagoon was fed by el Arroyo Dolores which flowed down from Twin Peaks and followed the line of Eighteenth Street. The first mission structures built in San Francisco were not at the present site of the Mission, but two blocks east near the intersection of Camp and Albion streets.

I was relieved that the Yelamu [tribe of Ohlone people] natives that welcomed us seemed much more timid than many of the heathen tribes we had met previously. The shellfish and grass seed that they offered us to eat were surprisingly satisfying. They showed us how they ground their food seeds on broad rock outcrops that were pitted with depressions carved out by generations of grinding stones. It is much the same as we do with our mano and metate. Their ground seed was rough and full of bits of stone but it was a welcome addition to the rotting corn that we had been eating on the trail. They were well pleased with Don Joaquín's offering of glass beads.

It wasn't long before the Yelamu were attacked by Ssalson neighbors. They fled to the opposite side of the bay and did not return until they understood that they would be protected at the mission from attack by their enemies.

Comandante Pedro Fages during his exploration of the California coast in 1770 described the natives of the peninsula of San Francisco: "The captains wear their cloaks adorned with feathers, and a great coiffure of false hair folded back upon their own. The common Indians wear a small cloak which reaches to the waist; in their hair they interweave cords or bands with beads, among the folds of which they bestow the trifles which they need to carry with them. . . . The figure and form of these Indians is graceful; both men and women are taller than ordinary. The men have the custom of smearing their heads in the form of a cross with white mud. The women observe in their dress the styles of San Luís Obispo, but with greater neatness and decency;"

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Figure 18. Cardero, Jose. Ohlone ceremonial dance at Mission San José. 1816

A month passed in our tent village at the Laguna Dolores. Still we waited for Capt. Quirós and the 'San Carlos' to arrive with tools and supplies to begin building. In the meantime Don Moraga showed the men the sites that Don Bautista had chosen for construction on his earlier exploration. The boys were allowed to follow along and Pedro later told me what he had seen and heard.

Anza with Moraga, Font, and several soldiers had gone ahead to explore the San Francisco peninsula while the Grijalva contingent was still at San Gabriel. On March 28, 1776 they erected a wooden cross at Cantil Blanco (Fort Point), the site he chose for the Presidio. The group then camped at Mountain Lake (Laguna del Presidio). A creek with enough water to run a mill flowed out of the lake. They named this stream the Arroyo del Puerto (Lobos Creek). As described by Font: "Ascending a small hill, we at once entered upon a very bare mesa of great extent, smooth, and inclining a little toward the port. It must be about half a league wide and somewhat longer, and it keeps getting narrower until it ends right at the white cliff. This mesa affords a delightful view. Indeed, from it one can see a large part of the harbor, its islands, the mouth of the port, and the sea as far as the eye can reach, even beyond the Farallones.". . . "The only thing that is lacking is timber for large buildings, although for cabins and barracks and for the stockade of the Presidio there are plenty of trees in the groves. Six Leagues [15.5 mi.] away there runs a plain called the Llano de Las Robles [Plain of the Oaks],

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thickly grown with oaks of all sizes from which good timber could be obtained."

On their return in June Moraga and his men selected a site for the Presidio to the southeast the point chosen by Anza. It was a flat mesa, somewhat protected from the wind. There was a convenient source of water and it was in plain in sight of the harbor entrance. La Laguna del Presidio (Mountain Lake) was at the upper edge of the mesa. A small arroyo flowing out of the lake down to the sea was a good source of running water for cooking and washing. A spring near the camp called Ojo de Agua del Polín provided fresh drinking water. There was enough water and flat land for gardens. Pequeña Lagoon or Washerwoman’s Lagoon would provide water for garden irrigation.

Moraga: "The place where the fort is situated, although it is not the most level in its entire extent, yet it is one of those most protected from the strong wind which prevails here and one of those nearest to the [harbor]. No arroyo runs close to it, but with a well which I had opened on a slope very close to the Presidio, I discovered a spring sufficient for all necessities [El manantial el Polín] and which would be superabundant even though there were a larger number of families. Firewood is abundant and close by, and not far away there is a lake suitable for washing the clothing."

Presidio site

Map 6. Creek and Watershed Map of San Francisco, North Peninsula Ramirez-Herrera, Teresa, Janet Sowers, Christopher Richard & Robin Grossinger. Oakland Museum of California, 2007

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Figure 19. El Polín Spring, Photo by A.S. Yorba 2013

After stalling for a month, Don Joaquín gave up waiting for Capt. Quirós' arrival to begin construction. He gave the order to begin construction of the Presidio, about three miles to the northwest of the Mission. Most of the soldiers and their families, including ours, and some of the workers moved to the Presidio site. Seven of the families remained with the padres to work on the Mission. We turned and waved as familiar faces that we had come to depend on dissolved into the distance. First for God and then for his people!

While waiting for Capt. Quirós we had time to explore before the real work could begin. The high hill to the east of the mesa we called Alta Loma (Telegraph Hill). Pedro, Trudi, and I would climb to the top of the hill at the end of the day to watch the setting sun illuminate our little world that jutted out into the deep blue ocean. From the top of the hill, we could see the expanse of the great sea that narrowed through the arms of the land into the great bay. I looked with dread across the channel to the wild lands against which we were to fortify a perimeter of civilization.

Every morning the boys ran up to Cantil Blanco to try to be the first to spy the sails of the 'San Carlos' entering the harbor. We began clearing and leveling a site on the mesa for the walls of the presidio. The men rode 15 miles each way to the Llano de las Robles to cut and haul logs. The boys took the mules to the lagoon to chop tule leaves for zacate (roof thatching) . In addition to collecting firewood, preparing meals, and laundering clothing, the women collected piles of brush to reinforce the thin walls of our tents. The smaller girls watched the babies while we older ones were required to work to 44

the limit of our abilities. I cut brush and carried rocks until my fingers bled.

We did not know if we had been forgotten by Mexico. The supply ships were months late. We were running out of food and hunger penetrated every thought. Mother told me to keep saying my prayers and asking the Blessed Virgin to intercede with her Son for our safety.

Moraga: "the bark was now tardy and provisions were getting low, so I ordered the sergeant to prepare four soldiers, two servants, and fifteen mules equipped with pack saddles, so that on the 30th [of July] they might go to Monterrey to request some provisions of Don Fernando Rivera and at the same time ask him to supply me with some goods, for the soldiers are naked and the cold in these days is severe, and it is a pity to see all the people shivering, especially since they were raised in hot climates and this being the first year in which they have experienced the change of temperature. For this reason I am living in fear that such nakedness may bring upon us some disastrous sickness. It was now necessary to reduce the ration for the soldiers until the bark should arrive or the pack train return, and, in order that hunger might not make the people disconsolate, on the same day I detached my sergeant [Grijalva] with three soldiers and six servants with the order that, not sparing any effort whatever, he should see if he could capture some elk, but although he tried hard he was unable to aid us with this succor."

While traveling from San Gabriel, I had pictured myself sitting in the shade of an immense oak tree, living in a paradise of gentle streams running through fields of tall grass. Our destination was much gloomier.

The sun showed itself briefly in the morning before giving way to the rolling mist that dimmed the sky for the rest of the day. At the height of summer the nights were cold. The mesa was a land of damp fog that penetrated the bones. It blew in with the winds that bent the trees and steadily continued from late morning until we collapsed in sleep at night. Carmen and I wrapped ourselves together in blankets and longed for sunshine and hot tortillas.

I welcomed the chore of going early to the spring to bring water or sitting and rocking a baby next to a new adobe-covered wall while the wan sunlight warmed my face.

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Figure 20. Tilesius von Tilenau, Whilhelm. Spanish Establishment of San Francisco in New California 1806. http://content.cdlib.org/ark:/13030/tf5c60101m/?layout=metadata&brand=calisphere

Moraga: "On the 18th [of August], about half past eleven o'clock in the morning, the packet boat of his Majesty, the San Carlos, cast anchor in this port without other incident than that of having spent forty-two days coming from Monterrey[having been blown off course all the way to San Diego], a delay which obliged me to send the pack train three times to Monterrey for provisions. It was my plan to await the bark, in order that in consultation with its captain I might decide on the site for the Presidio and indeed we have had the notice that it has arrived."

One morning Pedro and the boys ran into camp shouting the news that the 'San Carlos' was sailing into the harbor. We had been waiting for nearly 2 months and had almost given up on ever seeing our expected provisions. Capt. Quirós brought not only clothing, food, and building supplies - but a treasure in the boat's pilot José Cañizares. Sr. Cañizares was not only a pilot, but an architect, engineer, and craftsman - skills that had not been considered in the selection of our colonists.

Capt. Quirós, the pilot José Cañizares, and the ship's chaplain concurred with Moraga's chosen site for the Presidio. Cañizares laid out a square measuring ninety-two varas [1 vara = 33.755 inches] each way with divisions for church, royal offices, warehouses, guardhouse, and houses for soldier settlers, a map of the plan being formed and drawn by the first pilot. This ambitious plan was not to be realized for years after several disastrous failures.

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N

Map 7. Moraga Plan 1776 (not completed as drawn)

I watched as the stakes were pounded into the ground, cords drawn taught between them to mark the corners of the fort. I envisioned thick adobe walls that would protect us from the evils of cold and Indian attack. Gracias a Dios, Capt. Quirós also sent us a detail of two carpenters and a company of sailors to help with construction.

Inside the Presidio walls, the structures were made of adobe, rammed earth, jacal (wattle and daub), palisade, stone, and zacate (tule thatch). Window and door openings were unframed and unglazed. Palisade is a wall built of made from wooden stakes or tree trunks driven into the ground. A zacate roof covered the structures. The soldiers and sailors first built a warehouse to hold the supplies brought by ship. Next came the chapel, the house of Comandante Moraga [Map 8. #5] and the Grijalva family quarters [#6]. Meanwhile the rest of soldiers were to build houses for themselves and their families [#9].

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Figure 21. Rowe, Heironymous. Wattle and daub construction with thatch roof. 2005 Wikipedia (native american reconstruction)

The home of Don Joaquín and the warehouse and were begun first so that the ship's cargo could be safely stored. The men tried to make dried adobe bricks but it was not hot and dry enough to make the thousands of bricks needed. In Sonora, an adobe brick could be set to dry on one day to be mortared into a wall the next. Those that were made at the Presidio from inferior adobe crumbled easily and had to be thrown away. Instead, the men cut squares of sod and piled them in layers. The women plastered the sides with adobe mud. The boys brought tule leaves from the marsh for the roof. A stone platform covered with the best of the adobe mud made the floor high enough off the ground to stay dry when the rains came. The rest of us had to make do in our brush huts until the walls around the square were finished. Don Joaquín promised that someday roof tiles would replace the zacate that let in rain when the wind blew and provided a cozy home for rats and spiders.

The outer walls were to be made of palisade. Hundreds of tall oak logs (palos) were brought from el Llano de los Robles and set deep in the ground side by side. The children filled the chinks between the logs with adobe mud then the women plastered the walls inside and out.

Figure 22. Zureks. St. Fagans Celtic village palisade wall. Wikipedia

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When not preparing meals or caring for smaller children, we spent our days mixing costales full of clay soil mixed with sand from the shoreline and dried grasses and cow dung that the boys collected. Once a wall was completed we coated the walls with the best adobe we could find and then plastered the surfaces with a coat of clean white lime. There were no lime deposits like we had along the riverbed back home in Sonora. At San Francisco we had to burn and grind up seashells to make a fine lime paste. My arms ached every night from the hours spent with a mano and metate grinding the shells into powder. My fingers dried and shriveled from mixing and patting the wet adobe. You cannot guess how many buckets of water and adobe mud I have carried in my life.

The soldiers complained about the labor of building the fort and our homes. "We are soldiers, not peons", they said. But they had no choice. Even the carpenters from the 'San Carlos' were often at a loss as to how to build the structures without the materials to which they were accustomed: straight, even lumber, good quality adobe and abundant labor. We were rewarded by God with a few indios that stayed near our settlement and worked for us in exchange for protection from their enemies.

That autumn we were finally allowed to rest from labor was for an important celebration. September 17 was the "Dia de la Llagas de Nuestro Serafico Padre San Francisco, Patron del Puerto del Nuevo Presidio y de la Misión" [Day of the wounds of our holy father St. Francis, patron of the port of the new Presidio and of the Mission]. Everyone, including sailors and indios gathered to hear Padre Palóu sing the first solemn mass at San Francisco. I felt pride as I entered the Presidio chapel accompanied by the ringing of bells, the salvos of cannon, pistols, and muskets, to which the ship in the harbor responded with its guns. This riot of firearms, cannon, and bells terrified the indios. They did not allow themselves to be seen for many days.

Meanwhile work proceeded on the mission chapel and dwelling for the padres. It was a three mile walk from the Presidio to Mission Dolores along a sunlit path winding along the sand hills. If we started early from the Presidio, we could reach the Mission in time for Sunday Mass.

The mission chapel was consecrated on October 3, 1776, the feast day of San Francisco de Asís. Padre Palóu intoned "by orders of the Viceroy of New Spain the Comandante did take possession of this land forevermore for the Crown of Castile and Leon, as belonging to it by virtue of the 'Donation y Bula que el muy Santa Padre Alexandro Sixto Sumo Pontifico Romano, executed to the 'muy altos y Catolicos señores Don Fernandy V y Doña Ysabel su mujer, Reyes de Castilla y Leon, at Rome on the 4th of May 1493."

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Moraga: "The mission of San Francisco, which was founded at the Laguna and Arroyo de los Dolores, a site very beautiful and abundant in water, wood, and stone, is now also completed, and so handsomely built that I can do no less than marvel to see in so brief a time erected in the face of such a shortage of men a Presidio and a mission such as in many years these northern California establishments will not have seen."

As summer turned to fall the sun rose later and set earlier that it did at home. The rains began in the fall and the dry grasses on the hills turned green. With the help of the indios we found tender herbs to flavor our stews of meat and beans. Back home we would be preparing for the harsh winds that whistled down from the mountains. In San Francisco the ever-present mist grew into a steady shower.

We had not seen any indios since the middle of August, when the Ssalson had attacked the Yelamu, burning their huts chasing them away. The Yelamu had been friendly up to then - without guessing that we planned to stay. In December they began to return. It appeared that their earlier goodwill was only a ruse to obtain goods. On their return, finding that we had taken control of their lands, one of the indios shot an arrow at a soldier. Another of the savages accosted Juana Pinto by the spring as she went to draw water in the evening. The brute got no further than an attempted embrace but that was enough to arouse the men to fury.

The next day Papá and his men went out to arrest the attackers from a group of Yelamu camped at the beach. The soldiers demanded that the perpetrators be turned over to them. The two who were accused denied responsibility and ran away. At that point others began firing arrows at our men, wounding a horse. The soldiers shot back - showing the power of their guns for the first time. They killed one man. The rest ran to hide in the rocks and continued to shoot their arrows. Papá fired a shot that went through the leg of one of them and then pierced the rock.

As soon as the indios saw one of their men dead and the other badly wounded, they asked for peace by throwing their bows and arrows on the ground. Two Yelamu men were captured and whipped. Papá told them that he would kill them if they ever tried to attack los españoles again. The indios retreated to the forest and we did not see them again for three months.

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Figure 23. Choris,Louis. Vue du Presidio San Francisco. 1816. Captured indians being escorted to the Presidio

The soldiers routinely seized captives of all ages and sexes. They turned women and children over to missionaries to be converted and confined in a mission. Men were sentenced to manual labor at the military post. Captured natives were sent from the missions to work in the towns or the presidios under contract. They were not paid for the work they did. The Presidio at San Francisco had about 5-20 such native workers during the 1780s.

A high proportion of the native population was affected by syphilis due to rape by spanish soldiers. Using their skill with the lariat, squads of soldiers lassoed native women “to become prey to their unbridled lust.” This disruption of native community and culture, along with Old World pathogens, led to the near disappearance of the native people.

Indigenous peoples were also subject to seizure of their land and resources by spanish colonists for grazing livestock and raising crops. Gentiles (those who had not been baptized) were attracted into the missions by a combination of eternal salvation, goods (food, beads, and cloth), and promises of protection from attack by other tribes.

Once baptized the neofitos were given a spanish name. All aspects of their lives were controlled by the padres. The only exception was when they were given permission to return to their villages for a few weeks’ holiday annually. Running away, along with many minor infractions, was punished by imprisonment, flogging, branding, the use of stocks, hobbles, and other humiliations.

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The first niñito to be baptized at the Mission Dolores, was also the first to be buried there. Little Francisco José de los Dolores Soto died at birth on August 10, 1776. The pregnant women had suffered greatly along the journey. They endured hunger, exhaustion, freezing cold, and unremitting fear of what lay ahead. The next weeks brought the deaths of two more infants who never drew a first breath.

Mother carefully supervised the activities of the new mothers during la cuarentena, the 40 days after they gave birth. She secured the right herbs and foods that would balance the heat and cold within the body. She tried to help keep them covered and warm. It was not so difficult to make sure that their men stayed away from them for the proper amount of time as there was little in the way of privacy. Of course they would not consider bathing in the cold spring water.

The wedding of my dear friend Juana Francisca Pinto was the first to be celebrated at the Mission on Nov. 18, 1776. She met her husband Mariano Antonio Cordero during our stop at the Presidio of Monterrey. Juanita was only a few years older than me and had been my companion on the trail. Everyone rejoiced to see them united in holy matrimony. Juanita looked beautiful in her matrimonial gown. Although still camping in canvas and brush huts we did our best to celebrate. We gathered up what finery we had to decorate her - our first bride. All of us had left Sonora with the same collection of clothing a year before. But we managed to make something special of what we had. Mother had hidden away a few silver buttons and beads that she gave to the bride. I decorated my least worn dress with a few coral beads and felt like a princess. The fiesta was spare. The men butchered a steer and we ate well.

Her marriage reminded me that the end of my own childhood was not far in the future.

The raw winds of winter brought the death of our Luz (Maria de la Luz Munoz de Valencia). She never fully recovered from the birth of little Luz 6 months before at Monterrey. She never regained her strength after of the travails of the journey. Don José was left alone with their four children. Fortunately, his daughter Ma. Gertrudis at age 15 was able to care for the little ones. Only 5 days before La Navidad, we were not in a mood to celebrate.

The winter storms raged and our people sickened and died. That first winter we buried eleven of our compañeros; three newborns, one child, five women, and two men. The living were barely strong enough to bury the dead. We kept occupied that winter taking care of the chiquillos whose mothers had passed.

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DEATHS: 1776 August 10 Newborn Francisco José de los Dolores Soto August 25 Newborn Juana Maria Lorenza Sanchez October 29 Newborn María Ygnacia Remigia Vasquez December 21 Maria de la Luz Munoz (30 yr) - wife of Jose Manuel Valencia, leaving 4 children, one born 7 months previously near Monterrey 1777 January 26 Jose Antonio Sotelo (30) - husband of Gertrudis Buelna, leaving 2 sons January 28 Francisca de Lara (19) - wife of Pedro Antonio Bojorquez, leaving 1 daughter February 25 Juana Maria de Guana (31) - wife of Juan Antonio Amezquita, leaving 6 children March 4 Francisca Alvarez (8) - daughter of Joaquin Alvarez and Maria Nicolasa Luque March 11 Domingo de Alviso (36 yr) - husband of Maria Angela Trexo, leaving 4 children March 14 Gertrudis Buelna (16) wife of deceased Jose Antonio Sotelo leaving two sons March 16 Maria Rosalia Zamora (14) - wife of Salvador Manuel Amezquita, leaving one son

The dank cold went on without letup. The brush huts that we were able to construct before winter set in gave little protection. The zacate roof was sodden and leaking. We pressed together to find a spot where the least rain penetrated.

The long winter finally passed. The periods of rain lessened and the days began to lengthen. The sun stayed out long enough to warm our chilled bones. The pain of the losses we carried over the winter was lightened by the joy of births and marriages as they began to outnumber deaths. There were 6 weddings and 5 live births in the year 1777.

The spring of 1777 the whole camp was all in a whirl preparing for the visit of Gobernador Felipe de Neve. We tried to offer hospitality appropriate to our place as 'gente de razon'. However, because of the unremitting rain, only the warehouse and Don Joaquín's house were still standing. Food stores were very low. Our battered huts gave scant shelter. The failed attempt at a perimeter wall offered no protection from an enemy attack.

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Figure 24. Curtis, Edward S., 1868-1952, Construction of a tule shelter--Lake Pom. Chozas (huts) constructed by settlers the winter of 1776-7 were modeled on indian huts.

April 1777: Far from impressing the Governor [de Neve], he reported that the soldiers and colonists were living in shacks (barracas) and huts (chozas) without any protection except the little house of the Comandante and the warehouse, which are of adobe. Provincial Records, MS i. 140-2

Gov. Neve ordered that another pueblo be established on the Río de Guadalupe fifty miles to the southeast. It was clear that supply ships would not be capable of supplying the spaniards' needs so they would have to feed themselves by cultivating the soil. The families most skilled in agriculture were ordered to the new pueblo that would be called San José de Guadalupe.

We welcomed the honorable Padre Serra in October of that year to lead our friends to their new home in San José. He also planned to establish a new mission, Santa Clara de Asís near San José. I was sad to learn that my closest friend Trudi and her brother Pablo would be going to the new pueblo with their father Gabriel Peralta.

We hoped that Pr. Serra would bring news of supply ships bringing desperately needed food and equipment. It had been nearly a year since the 'San Carlos' had brought supplies that were almost gone. The continual damp hastened the rot of what we managed to conserve. The men hunted and fished. We kept from starvation by eating the roots, seeds, and berries that the indios showed us.

November of 1777 came and went and the supply ships did not appear. I began to despair of getting through another year. The last winter had taken many of our friends home to their place in heaven. Many more left in the fall for San José. I didn't think we

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could survive another winter without proper shelter or food. The small gardens that were fenced in from cattle and horses did not nearly provide for our needs.

Finally in December the boys looking out from Cantil Blanco spotted the sails of the 'San Carlos' making for the harbor. Everyone whooped with joy to see the sacks unloaded - corn, beans, lentils, chick peas, lard, brown sugar, and chiles. It was especially thrilling to receive the officers' shipment of white flour and biscuits. Don Joaquín's wife still had not arrived as promised so he ate at our table. We were fortunate to share in the Comandante's portion of the provisions. By the grace of God all of our people survived the second winter. The arrival of the ship 'Santiago' the summer of 1778 brought barely enough supplies to refill our empty jarras.

By the end of 1778 the adobe house for the Comandante (Don Joaquín Moraga) was complete. The walls surrounding the fort had been raised a few feet. A slaughterhouse had been built of stone. A chapel, two warehouses, quarters for our family and for the troops had been made of palisade and adobe. The men rebuilt the adobe walls that had washed away the previous winter with new stone foundations. We plastered the walls of twigs with mud to fortify our shelters. Yet it was not enough to protect us from the worst storms I have seen in this life.

Heavy rains that began in November of 1778, increased as La Navidad grew near. Streams of water poured from the sky without relief. The adobe that we worked so hard to pack in the spaces between the palos of the walls washed away. The zacate roof was not enough to keep out the wind-driven deluge. Rain drove at the walls and forced heavy mist through the cracks. My 12th birthday passed as we huddled in the driest corner of our leaky hut and watched the lashing rain dissolve the walls around us.

Ensign Hermengildo Sal, acting Comandante of Presidio of San Francisco (1781 - 1787): I am eyewitness that this Presidio was begun to be built on July 27th, 1776 and at the end of '78 the house of the Commandant was in adobe; one wall of 4 yards, height; a second 3 yards, the third, 2 1/2 ; and the fourth also 2 1/2. The [illegible] house in stone, stores, church, and habitations for the troops in palisade and earth. During a rain fall in the month of January of 1779, the stores, the slaughter house, the church, the house of the commandant and of the troops and the greatest part of the four pieces of wall fell, in such a way that at the end of the year 80, none of the houses built in the year 78 were standing. The lack of intelligent workers for the construction and direction of the works contributed much to this; and at present they are still lacking." (Sal 1976:47–49)

That spring we emerged blinking into the light of day to find that all of the work we had done over the first two years had turned to puddles of mud and piles of leaning logs. Don Joaquín's house, the chapel, the warehouses, the slaughter house and one side of the soldiers' barracks all slid back into the soil from which they were built. We had less than 55

when we arrived from the long trail.

The only thing to do was to begin again. The soldiers grumbled with the continual building and rebuilding and the necessity to procure their own food. They complained that they were not campesinos and would not tolerate this life much longer.

Just as we were ready to despair of making it through another winter without adequate supplies, the ships 'La Capitana', 'Princesa', and 'La Favoriata' arrived Sept. 13 & 14, 1779 from exploring the northwest. They presented to the Mission a bronze image of Nuestra Señora de los Remedios, which was placed on the altar of the Mission church with proper ceremonies.

The sailors were suffering badly from scurvy and needed to rest and recuperate before they could move on. Unfortunately our food supplies were so depleted that we had little to share with them. During their visit, fire destroyed their hospital tent and gutted one of the houses. At the same time thieves robbed the storehouse of 700 pesos worth of essential supplies. We were shocked to find that it was our men, Marcelo Pinto and Mariano Castro who tried to sell their spoils to the sailors. Everyone breathed a sigh of relief when the ships set sail six weeks later.

Figure 25. Choris, Louis. Jeu des Habitans de Californie. San Francisco. 1822. (Games of the Inhabitants of California), Color lithograph, Santa Barbara Museum of Art.

By the end of 1778, most of the young Yelamu villagers had joined the Mission. Among them were three children of the Yelamu headman Guimas. They sought protection from their enemies more than they sought eternal salvation.

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Eventually, with the help of the neofitos, our family built a two room house made of wooden palos, plastered with adobe and thatched with tule zacate. In the summer we smoothed on a layer of whitewash to contain the dust that constantly drifted off adobe walls. Holes for a door and window were cut in the wall facing the plaza. I hoped that someday Capt. Quirós would bring us a pane of glass that would let in the winter light while holding in the warmth of the fire. Until then we closely covered the window with dried cowhides to keep out the damp chill.

Every summer, as soon as the weather dried up we had to replace the zacate. Over the long rainy season the thatch went from moldy to rotten. The fire smoldering in the sala was not enough to keep it dry. A film of mold grew on everything, including our blankets. In August the summer sun barely warmed the thick adobe walls. The serape that father used to wear in the dry chill of a Sonoran winter became part of his everyday wear.

The floor of hard packed earth in our little casita grew smoother as the years passed and many footsteps polished its surface. It was built up high enough to stay dry even when the plaza grounds filled with water like a mirrored pond. There were low wooden platforms along the walls so that we could sit comfortably to spin or sew without the cold damp of the earth seeping through into our painfully thin nalgas.

Figure 26. Artist rendering of San Francisco interior A. S. Yorba 2014

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In 1792 San Francisco Capt. George Vancouver visited the Presidio. He said:"The only object of human industry which presented itself, was a square area, whose sides were about two hundred yards in length, enclosed by a mud wall, and resembling a pound for cattle. Above this wall, the thatched roofs of their low small houses just made their appearance. On entering the Presidio we found one of its sides still unenclosed by the wall, and very indifferently fenced in by a few bushes here and there, fastened to stakes in the ground. The unfinished state of this part, afforded us an opportunity of seeing the strength of the wall, and the manner in which it was constructed. It is about fourteen feet high, and five feet in breadth, and was first formed by uprights and horizontal rafters or large timber, between which dried sods and moistened earth were pressed as close and as hard as possible; after which the whole was cased with earth made into a sort of mud plaster, which gave it the appearance of durability, and of being sufficiently strong to protect them, with the assistance of their firearms, against all the force which the natives of the country might be able to collect."

"Their [the soldiers'] houses were along the wall, within the square, and their fronts uniformly extended the same distance into the area, which is a clear open space, without buildings or other interruptions. The only entrance into it, is by a large gateway; facing which, and against the centre of the opposite wall or side, is the church; which, though small, was neat in comparison to the rest of the buildings. This projects further into the square than the houses, and is distinguishable from the other edifices, by being white-washed with lime made from seashells; lime-stone or calcareous earth not having yet been discovered in the neighbourhood. On the left of the church, is the commandant's house, consisting, I believe, of two rooms and a closet only, which are divided by massy walls, similar to that which encloses the square and communicating with each other by very small doors. Between these apartments and the outward wall was an excellent poultry house and yard, which seemed pretty well stocked; and between the roof and the ceilings of the room was a kind of lumber garret: those were all the conveniences the habitation seemed calculated to afford. The rest of the houses, though smaller, were fashioned exactly after the same manner; and in the winter, or rainy seasons, must be at the best very uncomfortable dwellings. For though the walls are a sufficient security against the inclemency of the weather, yet the windows, which are cut in the front wall, and look into the square, are destitute of glass, or any other defense that does not at the same time exclude the light."

"the furniture consisted of a very sparing assortment of the most indispensable articles of the rudest fashion, and of the meanest kind; and ill accorded with the ideas we had conceived of the sumptuous manner in which the Spaniards live on this side of the globe."

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Figure 27. Vadinska, Alexandra. Sergeant's house in 1792. Artistic recreation. The Presidio Trust, San Francisco, CA. 2006.

Four years after arriving we still had not re-created the comfort of our home in Sonora - simple as it was. All of our effort went into rebuilding destroyed shelters and scratching for enough to eat. We were grateful for the help of the indios, who learned to clothe themselves and submit to the laws of God. Along with the benefits of christianity they were taught the arts of civilization. Two neofito girls had joined the household as maids. They carried water, cooked, and washed clothes. The men learned to build, plant crops, and care for the animals.

As the light began to warm the eastern sky the muchachas rekindled the fire in the hearth. It was my job to prepare Papá's chocolatera for him in the morning. I enjoyed the warmth on my face as I breathed in the scent of chocolate mixed with panocha. My mouth waters as I recall the first sip of the warm nectar on a cold wet morning. As the time lengthened since the arrival of the last supply ship, the mix of chocolate became thinner but it was still delicious. Sometimes he secretly gave me a cupful to wash down my breakfast of atole.

After the morning meal I preferred to be off sewing or washing clothes, out of the cook house and away from the smoke and chatter of the kitchen. My happiest moments were when I had spread out an armload of clean fresh clothing on the bushes to dry and lie back to enjoy the sun on my face.

The boys kept the cooking fires going from morning to night. When we had no more wheat we ate corn. Las indias learned to grind wheat and corn with the mano and 59

metate and to toast tortillas on the comal. The big clay pots that we brought from Sonora were filled every night to share with the single soldiers, the widowers and their children. We were blessed to always be able to offer a stew of fresh beef, wild deer, or rabbit with whatever beans were not eaten by weevils. It was a meal to warm the body and soul.

There was plenty of seafood so we ate well on Fridays and during the season of Lent. My favorites were the plump mussels that grew thick along the rocky shoreline. The men learned which of the wild deer were most tender and where to catch the fattest fish. They found wild fruits to make into wine while waiting for the grapevines from Mexico to produce. The indios brought us berries from the forest. I yearned for the day that I could bite into a juicy fresh fig.

Our little garden produced both food and medicine for the community. A few of the better milk cows were brought back to the corral every night to give us milk for butter, and cheese. The few bedraggled chickens brought by Capt. Quirós became a fine flock of laying hens that clucked contentedly in their coops behind our quarters. Three or four eggs appeared every morning in the box of straw that I made for them.

The arrival of the next supply ship was never guaranteed. Foul winds and storms could delay them for months. They were in constant danger from enemy warships. It took months for news of foreign alliances or hostilities to reach the Comandante. In the event that the supply ships failed to arrive altogether the colonists had to be able to feed themselves. While the settlers at San José were planting fields that would sustain them in the future, flood or drought was always a threat to a successful harvest.

On cold winter days Mother spent hours going over the list of goods to be ordered from San Blas. Don Joaquín submitted the list every year after the celebration of La Navidad. It could be a year or more until the goods arrived. Even then it was sure that we would not get exactly what had been requested. I learned to be content with little.

Eventually the farmers at the pueblo de San José began to harvest abundant yields of wheat, maize, and beans. Cattle multiplied so vigorously that we could eat as much meat as we wished. At last the anxiety of waiting for nearly spoiled provisions to arrive by ship ended. We had plenty of fresh fine flour for tortillas. I enjoyed the crisp crush of the fresh grain as I ground the roasted corn for the morning atole.

I remember asking Papá for a length of wool to make a new overskirt for winter. I knew the clothing that came with me from Sonora would have to last as long as possible. But by 14 years of age I had grown tall enough that my skirts no longer covered me decently. The next time he returned from Monterrey he brought back a bundle of dark blue woolen cloth. When I unrolled it there was a pair of new shoes with silver buckles hidden inside.

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I walked barefoot to the church every Sunday before proudly putting on those beautiful shoes to walk up the aisle.

During the few clear days of summer, the women sat against the warm adobe walls absorbing the rays of the sun as if they could be stored up for winter. A couple of indian girls were kept occupied grinding grain. The shush shush sound of the mano against the metate was like an underground stream whispering. The men made looms that we carried outside when the weather was clear. It was a pleasure to sit and weave in clear light rather than the dim shadows of the long winter.

The year I turned 15 (1781) news arrived that the trail between Alta California and Sonora was cut off by the Yuma Indians. Comandante Rivera was cruelly murdered in an uprising against los españoles by our former friends. No more of our people would be able to join us - or to go home by that route. Until then, I had to admit a secret fantasy of returning to San Miguel de Horcasitas to find my Abuelo and Nana waiting for me with arms open. But I then realized we were as marooned in Alta California as if it were a desert island.

It was well known that when a girl becomes a woman she must soon marry. At 16, I was already older than many of the soldiers' wives at the Presidio. I had nursed in my secret heart the fantasy that Pedro Regalado Peralta and I would be married someday. Even though he was like a brother to me, I had feelings for him that were not so brotherly. I waited for Papá to call me aside to tell me his wishes.

The day finally came that Papá told me that a soldier from Monterrey, Don José Antonio Yorba, requested my hand in marriage. I prayed "Mother Mary, have you not heard my prayers to be joined with the man of my heart, Pedro Regalado?" I begged mother to intercede but she said that Papá would not be moved. He considered it a great honor for our family to be joined with a Peninsulare, an Español de Pura Sangre. It pained him that I didn't appreciate the importance of this marriage to elevate the status of the family.

I had seen Don Antonio several times over the years. Papá told me that they briefly fought together as soldiers in the Pimería Alta. When we first arrived at San Gabriel, Antonio was with Gov. Rivera on the way to subdue the Indian rebellion at San Diego. Father trusted Antonio as an able soldier and an honorable man. He had come from Cataluña with the Royal Catalan Volunteers under the command of Don Pedro Fages, now the Governor of Alta California, and was under his protection. I never thought to look at him as a potential suitor. When it became known that Don Pedro wished for us to marry, I knew that my future was decided.

Don Antonio was well known in Monterrey for his prior marriage to a neofita. I admit that when we stopped in Monterrey I was horrified to see an india as the wife of a gente

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de razón with 3 half-caste children at her heels. His children were the first California indian mulattos to be blessed by the sacrament of Baptism in Alta California. Many of our soldiers satisfied their needs with depredations forced on the native women. At least Antonio had the honor to marry a neofita rather than use and discard her. Her death and that of her first child may have been ordained by God as a punishment for such miscegenation.

Even thought he was from our mother land of España, Antonio could barely speak spanish through the gurgling Catalan accent. He was 36 years old but looked much older. I would have to care for two little mestizos at the same hearth with the children that I hope to bear. I prayed to Nuesta Señora de Guadelupe to please save me from this fate!

The day came for the wedding two months before my 17th birthday. It was the first wedding ceremony held in the new church at Mission San Francisco de Asís. At times the novelty of preparations for the wedding fiesta eclipsed my fears for what was to come. Mother managed to get a length of rose colored French silk and Belgian lace. She sewed for weeks to create such a dress that her first-born daughter would be a beautiful bride, in spite of the condition of my resentful soul.

Figure 28. Photo Margaret Yorba wearing 200 year old shawl belonging to Josefa Yorba. 1927 Corona Public Library W. D. Addison Heritage Room

Papá surprised me with a lovely embroidered silk shawl from Manila. It carried the delicious perfume of Chinese sandalwood. I could almost smell the sweet scent of the finely stitched flowers of every color.

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Figure 29. Excerpt from Mission San Francisco de Asís (Dolores) California. Matrimonios 1777 - 1850. Compiled by Thomas Workman Temple III

Though we had been struggling to keep our people fed with the small rations we receive by ship, no effort was spared to prepare for our marriage fiesta. The men slaughtered a tender young calf. From San José came fine fresh wheat for cakes and the first harvests of figs, grapes, and walnuts. We left soon after to take up housekeeping at Antonio's post at the garrison of the Mission Carmel at Monterrey.

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JOSÉ ANTONIO YORBA (YORVA)

Little by little I learned Antonio's history.

Antonio José Francisco Jorba y Ferran was born to a simple family in San Sadurni de Noya, Cataluña, Spain in July of 1746. His father Pau Jorba Brugués was a glazier from the pueblo of Jorba. His mother Rosa Ferran Carbó was from San Sadurní de Subirats. Because he was the fifth of seven children, nothing would be left for him of the (very little) patrimony that might be left by his father.

The Spanish government was in need of more soldiers to combat the indian insurgents on the northern borderlands of Nueva España. The men of the backwoods of Cataluña were known as fierce fighters, expert marksman, and unfaltering on the trail. A military draft was established that offered a bounty for every soldier recruited. Antonio's father was quick to offer his son for the glory of the Crown. His father sent him to the army knowing that he would at least be fed and clothed.

After marching 560 miles from Barcelona to Cadíz, Antonio, a soldier of the Compañia Franca de Voluntarios (Free Company of Catalonian Volunteers), departed by ship for Nueva España in May, 1767 under the command of Capt. Agustín de Callis (father of Doña Eulalia Callis de Fages). Lieut. Pedro Fages was second in command.

After a rough 3 month sea voyage they arrived in Veracruz in August, 1767. A month of marching along winding roads at high elevation brought them to Mexico City. Of the 100 men who started the march, 25 were ill, one died, and one deserted by the time they reached the Capital. From there they marched to Tepic to prepare for the indian campaign in the Pimería Alta

Bucareli's predecessor, Viceroy Marqués de Croix ordered the Catalonian Volunteers to "cover the Province of Sonora as quickly as possible with so many troops that conditions for Indian raids would be eliminated". Antonio's contingent with Capt. Callis then marched to San Blas from where they would travel by ship to Guaymas. Another awful sea passage transported the troops from San Blás to the battlegrounds of Sonora. The weary soldiers finally reached their destination after 105 days at sea, a distance of 640 miles. It had been a year since they left Barcelona.

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Figure 30. Don Pedro Fages http://www.scvhistory.com/scvhistory/signal/reynolds/part09.html

Antonio had not anticipated the heat, cold and thirst that came with struggling across the hostile Sonora desert. Even for a warrior from the provinces of Cataluña, the ferocity of Indian warfare was staggering. Antonio shook as he quietly told me about finding one of his captured compañeros hanging upside down from a tree with hands and head cut off.

While the rest of the troop pursued a relentless campaign against the indians of the Pimería Alta, Lieut. Pedro Fages and twenty five of the Catalonians, including Yorba, were diverted to a new task. The company was ordered to accompany Don Gaspar de Portolá on an exploration of the little known territory of Alta California. Their assignment was to explore the lands between San Diego and Monterrey. Two ships and two companies traveling by land planned to meet in San Diego in the spring of 1769. A third ship bringing supplies to meet them at Monterrey was lost at sea.

Yorba, under the command of Don Pedro Fages was assigned to the ship 'San Carlos' bringing men and supplies from San Blas to San Diego. From Guaymas they sailed to La Paz in California Vieja (Baja) and then to San Diego. There they would meet the ship 'San Antonio' and the two companies traveling by land from La Paz. The two land contingents were led by Portolá and Fernando Javier Rivera y Moncada. Portolá, Fages, and Rivera would become the first second and third Governors of Alta California.

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Portolá was also accompanied by Padre Junipero Serra, head of the Franciscan missionary order. His goal was to establish missions to christianize and pacify the California indians. Visitador José de Gálvez (Spanish Inspector General to Nueva España) was on hand to see them off. He exhorted them to "make the utmost effort possible to establish a good relationship with the Indians so that they will be disposed to receive, without repugnance, the establishment of a mission."

Antonio told me he did not expect that the agony of seasickness he suffered on his first ocean crossing could ever be surpassed. He was punished much more harshly by the sea on his journey to Alta California. Small wonder that he never set foot again on a ship during the years that I knew him.

On January 9, 1769 the 'San Carlos' left La Paz with enough supplies to survive for 8 months along with goods needed by the Presidio at San Diego. The San Carlos made slow progress, experiencing contrary winds alternating with calm. Water casks leaked and fresh food stores were exhausted. Their drinking water drained away and the rocky Baja coast offered little opportunity to replenish their water supplies.

Antonio told me of the suffering that he and his compañeros experienced from el escorbuto (scurvy). "Even though suffering the pangs of hunger, I couldn't stand to eat the poor rations that were handed out. As soon as I took in anything by mouth it would run right back out my culo until the flow turned to blood. All the bones of my body ached and fever shook me whenever I tried to move. Chewing a dry biscuit made my gums bleed. See these gaps in my teeth? The teeth fell out so readily that I was afraid to chew the poor food that I had. Even worse, we had to get up and work every day to avoid turning into spirits riding a ghost ship buffeted through eternity by the capricious winds."

The bodies of the men who died on the journey were returned to the sea. Yorba along with half the Catalonians and most of the crew were so sick they could hardly leave their bunks. Only four weak sailors assisted by a few of the strongest of the Catalonians worked the ship. They were too feeble to even launch boats to search for fresh water along the coast. Finally after 110 days of suffering at sea they dropped anchor in the bay of San Diego on April 29, 1769.

The crew of the 'San Antonio' who had arrived two weeks earlier wondered why the 'San Carlos' did not launch a boat to come ashore. They found that everyone on the ship was too weak to move and had to be carried to land. Two thirds of the company died while Yorba and his fellow weakened survivors did their best to nurse those who could not move. Cold winds whistling through the canvas tents on the beach worsened the suffering of the dying. One by one they were buried in the sands of "Punta de los Muertos" (now Seaport Village).

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Years later Antonio pointed out the place to me from our home on hill at the Presidio of San Diego. I said a prayer for all the mothers whose sons were left in those sands so far from home.

Two weeks later Gov. Rivera y Moncada and the first contingent of the land expedition arrived. They helped to nurse the sick and provide protection from the elements and threats by natives. Finally on June 29 Governor Portolá's contingent arrived in San Diego. Portolá was aware that a supply ship was on its way to meet the expedition in Monterrey and if they waited much longer they could be miss the ship and be overtaken by winter. They did not know what kind of terrain they would have to navigate to reach their destination. Portolá: "I gathered the small portion of food which had not been spoiled in the ships, and went on by land to Monterrey with that small company of persons, or rather say skeletons, who had been spared by scurvy, hunger, and thirst”.

My Antonio, with bones aching and feverish with the effects of el escorbuto, was one of those skeletons who left for Monterrey with Portolá.

The party set out in the middle of July, 1769 through the trackless country from San Diego to San Francisco. Traveling with Portolá, Rivera, and Fages were the six Catalonians still able to walk, the soldados de cuera from Baja California, a group of Baja Indians and the mule drivers. Pr. Crespi was the chaplain and diarist. With shovels, crowbars, axes, and rifles they built a trail league by league that could accommodate their train of men, horses, and pack mules. Pr. Serra stayed behind in San Diego to begin construction of the first Mission in Alta California.

Antonio first saw the lands that would become Rancho Santiago de Santa Ana in July of 1769. They pitched camp where the Santiago Creek emptied into a larger river. He told me about the terror that struck: "Just after el medio dia the earth began to roll. At first I thought I was having a recurrence of the affliction of fever and vertigo I felt on the maldito ship swaying upon the deep. I lost my footing and fell to the ground in terror. Just as I thought the nightmare was ending the ground shuddered again - 3 more times that seemed to stretch for ages. Pr. Crespi pronounced the name of the place El Río del Dulcissimo Nombre de Jesus de los Temblores (River of the Sweetest Name of Jesus of the Earthquakes) but we soldiers had already named it Santa Ana, having reached it on the feast day of the mother of our blessed Virgin. Fear for my life did not keep me from noticing that the river ran through the most beautiful lands I had seen." He said that the indians who live near the Rio de Santa Ana, were fair, had light hair, and were good looking, unlike the most of the short dark slovenly creatures that inhabited these lands.

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Pedro Fages described the indígenas of the region in 1770: "those who live near the Río de los Temblores (Río de Santa Ana), on its banks and the adjacent beaches . . . are fair, have light hair, and are good looking." "As to dress, those few who use clothes wear them as do those who live between here and San Diego; nearly all the men and women wear their hair cut." "The entire country is overrun with fleas, but the chinch bug and the louse are unknown." "Most of the natives of this region go absolutely naked. The few of them who take pleasure in the use of clothing wear a sleeveless doublet made of undressed strips of rabbit or otter skins twisted and put together with some use of skill. Among the men this garment does not usually fall much below the waist. The women cover themselves with aprons made of the leaves of reeds softened by beating"

Antonio's legs, severely weakened by el escorbuto, began to give out. Each night Pr. Crespi would rub his legs with oil; the next morning he was tied onto the "tijeras" a wooden frame loaded on the back of a mule. As the winter rains began, also came the chorro, the diarrhea, which seemed to relieve the symptoms of scurvy. They ran out of food except for a few tortillas and whatever game they could catch. Antonio laughed when he told me that only Indians and Catalonians were willing to eat the meat of the first mule that they had to butcher.

The men marched for 4 ½ months through untamed lands searching for the port of Monterrey. When they reached the end of the peninsula known as San Francisco they realized they had gone too far. They had not found the supply ship that was supposed to meet them at Monterrey. Their food supplies were gone so they retraced their steps to San Diego. By the time they arrived in January 1770 they found that half of the men that stayed there had died since they left. They traveled a thousand miles without realizing that they had passed Monterrey and continued on to the region that would become known as San Francisco.

How many leagues my Antonio has trod on this earth! No wonder he seemed older and more tired that his years.

After a few months of hard labor constructing the foundations of the Presidio of San Diego, Yorba was called to follow Don Pedro and Gov. Portolá north to meet Pr. Serra, who had sailed to Monterrey on the 'San Antonio'. The journey was easier this time as the trail had been cleared and they had fresh supplies from the 'San Antonio's' stop in San Diego. At Monterrey they attended the consecration by Pr. Serra of the Mission San Cárlos Borromeo de Carmelo on June 3, 1770. Yorba's Commanding Officer Don Pedro Fages was appointed by Portolá as Comandante of the Presidio of Monterrey. Yorba stayed with Fages at Monterrey when Gov. Portolá returned to San Diego. The hard work of building a Presidio and Mission fell to the Catalonian troops.

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Figure 31. Consecration of the Mission San Cárlos Borromeo de Carmelo

A year later the soldiers' cruel conduct toward the Indians caused Pr. Serra to remove the neofitos from the bad influence of the soldiers. He moved the mission to a site on the Carmel River a few miles south of the presidio. With 3 soldiers, 5 sailors, and 40 neofitos, they began construction of the mission. As the palisade walls of the Mission San Carlos Borroméo de Carmelo were begun, the first Indians were instructed and accepted into the Catholic Faith. Antonio Yorba was listed on the 1775 Census of Alta California as being a Catalonian Volunteer soldier assigned to the Mission at Carmel.

In 1772 Cdte. Fages received orders from the Viceroy to explore territories to the north. The Catalan Volunteers accompanied Cdte. Fages and Pr. Crespí up the east side of the San Francisco Bay in a second attempt to reach el Punto de los Reyes. Still blocked by the great Sacramento and San Joaquin Rivers, they found the wide flat valley that became known as California's Central Valley.

By May of 1772, food supplies were almost gone. They had been reduced to eating the seeds and nuts that the Indians showed them. The strain of physical labor, starvation, and helplessness while waiting for the supply ship to appear was beginning to break down the moral order. Cdte. Fages had no choice but to go into the wilds to hunt for food. They were able to kill enough bears to keep body and soul together until supplies arrived. Fages killed so many bears that he was given the nickname 'el Oso'.

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In November of 1772 Rivera and Padre Palóu with soldiers from Monterrey set out on another exploration the San Francisco peninsula. On reaching the cliff they called Cantil Blanco (Fort Point) at the end of the peninsula, they set up a cross that would mark the territory for God and King Carlos as his emissary. Rivera chose this as the future site for the Presidio of San Francisco.

By 1773 Yorba was a strong young man of 27. The Padres had succeeded in curbing most of the excesses of the soldiers who found rape of indian women to be an acceptable christian practice. But something had to be done with these young men who were "condemned to perpetual and involuntary celibacy". No christian women had been brought to the frontier from Mexico. The Anza expedition that would bring a supply of marriageable women from Mexico was still 3 years away and not yet anticipated. California soldiers were encouraged with promises of land and other incentives to marry neophyte women in order to promote spanish cultural values. Padre Serra asked the Viceroy to provide a release from military service, two years' salary and five years' rations to men who married neophyte women

On May 20, 1773 Yorba married Maria Gracia Feliz, a Tucunut Indian woman at Mission San Carlos Borromeo. Nine months later their first child Pedro Antonio was born. Two years after that came a second son, Francisco Xavier. The third son Diego Maria was born 4 years after Francisco. The arrival of Diego Maria was touched by grief with the death of his brother Pedro Antonio(age 6) a month after his birth (12/4/1780).

When Cdte. Fages, Yorba's patron, was removed from his position as Comandante of the military forces in California and returned to Mexico, many of the Catalonians returned with him. Yorba and his fellow soldiers who had married indian women with the intention of building a home were among the few who stayed. Fages was replaced by Comandante Fernando Rivera y Moncada.

When the Viceroy's promises to soldiers who married indian women were not kept, Pr. Serra appealed to Viceroy Bucareli on their behalf. He argued that the life of a soldier was not consistent with family life. Unless the men could be induced to remain in the country as settlers and cultivators of the land, it would be impossible to support the missions and presidios. The families of Yorba and two other soldiers along with 2 sailors, the blacksmith, and the carpenter, all married to Indian women made up a community plaza in front of the church at Monterrey. If the soldiers returned to Spain, Pr. Serra's work to establish a stable community would be severely set back. There was no satisfaction made by the Viceroy on his promises. [Doc. A - Aug. 24, 1775 letter Serra to Bucareli,]

Antonio later told me that had he known that the promises made to him of retirement, land and goods would not be forthcoming, he would not have agreed to marry his indian wife. When he left Spain in his youth, he envisioned the riches to be gained by the

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taming of this new world. So far he had seen only hunger, pain, poverty and death. Yet at the same time the beauty of the country itself promised infinite possibilities.

Figure 32. Indian graveyard at Mission San Carlos Borromeo de Carmel. Photo by A. S. Yorba Nov. 2013

Maria Gracia died in 1782, a year after the death of their first son, Pedro. The two little ones, Francisco (age 5) and Diego (age 1) were left motherless with their soldier father. By then Anza had brought a shipment of eligible young women to the frontier. Yorba held a respected position in the military and, more importantly, he carried a precious gift from the Old World. Even though he was born in poverty, his blue eyes and Peninsulare pedigree were unblemished by intermingling with either the mexican, negro, or indian races. His casta gave him status in a world in which blood was all important. His limpieza de sangre would serve to raise the status of any family united with his. Maria Josefa also carried the casta and military pedigree that would heighten the social value of his family for generations to come. She was submissive to the will of her father, Antonio's fellow soldier. And she was not so beautiful or wealthy that she could refuse an alliance that brought also 2 half-breed stepchildren.

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MONTERREY Antonio and I left San Francisco for Monterrey two days after our wedding. I was pleasantly surprised at the comfortable quarters there. Because Antonio was a Corporal in the Presidio garrison, we had two large rooms on the plaza. The sala was comfortable and furnished with a table and chairs. Antonio's children sleep there near the fire with their nursemaid, an aunt of their indian mother. Our bedroom was small but dry and protected from the elements. Indian girls cooked our food over fires in outdoor shelters.

Figure 33. Cardero, José. Vista del Presidio de Monterrey, 1791.

As I remembered from our stay on the way north, Monterrey was warmer and drier than San Francisco. I was delighted to greet my dear friend, Manuela Tapia and her husband Juan Maria Pinto. Tio Luis Peralta was there with Tia Loreta. Being with people who shared the trail north lessened the heartache of being away from my mother and sister.

Every morning before dawn, Antonio rose and sat in the doorway watching the sky come to light, drinking from his chocolatera. I twisted his hair into a long braid down his back as I had watched my mother braid Papá's hair so many times. I then helped him dress in his cotton shirt, blue vest, a short jacket with a red collar and red stitching along the edges. He wore short trousers with rows of silver buttons up the sides. I helped him put on his boots - shoes and socks with a piece of chamois wrapped around his leg and tied

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with leather bands to protect his legs while on horseback. I embroidered a fringed sash for his waist. Before putting on his hat he carefully arranged his kerchief of black Chinese silk.

I thought that I would soon be pregnant with Antonio's insistent attentions. I confess that the coming of las reglas every month made me sigh with relief. I had seen the pain of women in childbirth and seen death. But I always knew that the God's will was for me to become a vessel for His unborn children. I saw the joy in my friends' eyes as they nuzzled their new babies.

In the meantime I had Antonio's children to care for. I could feel his sadness at the loss of his eldest son and the boy's mother. Five year old Pancho believed himself to be a man already. He was not quite ready to accept a usurper in his mother's place.

Figure 34. Cardero, José. Wife of a Monterey Soldier, 1791. Museo de América, Madrid.

With the return of Don Pedro Fages as Gobernador of Alta California in 1782, Antonio felt sure that his opportunities for advancement would increase under his fellow Catalán. Even more thrilling for me was the news that Don Pedro's wife Doña Eulalia de Callis was coming from Mexico to join him with her little son Pedrito.

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When Doña Eulalia finally arrived in January of 1784 I was awestruck by her beauty and elegance. I could not image how such a delicate flower would survive in that wilderness. I looked down at my worn hands and wanted to hide my face from her delicate gaze. I was told that on her journey through Alta California she was so distraught by the sight of the many naked Indians that she began throwing them her clothing as well as that of Don Pedro. She stopped only when Don Pedro warned her that it may be a year before the next supply ship arrived to replenish her wardrobe. And that ship would certainly not carry the quality of goods to which she was accustomed.

She was kind to me and the other officers' wives. Her father Don Agustín Callis conveyed greetings to Antonio, who had come with him from Spain in 1767. The first time that she invited me to call on her I was paralyzed with fear. I had nothing to wear appropriate to the presence of such a lady. She had come from Spain to the grand halls of Mexico City to the poor outpost of Monterrey. I have only seen the dusty pueblos of this wild frontier. I hoped I could be of service to help her adapt to life in the colonies.

Figure 35. Reception Room, Mission San Carlos Borromeo, photo by A. S. Yorba

She enjoyed telling stories of her home and family that were far grander than anything I could have imagined. I pretended not to see the tears in her eyes as she spoke of the grand balls, her luxurious home with many servants, and the enjoyments of society. She looked much younger than I, even though 8 years older. She was a highborn woman of quality, but she did not scorn those of us from a lower estate. She was even kind to the Indians and was intent on finding ways to make sure that they were fed and clothed and treated fairly. 75

In spite of her displeasure with her situation, Doña Eulalia soon became pregnant again. To add further to her discomfort, she was required to accompany Don Pedro to San Francisco by invitation of Pr. Serra. I sent letters to Mother telling her of Doña Eulalia's kindness and asking that she be attended in her confinement with the love and care that she would give to a daughter. I was pleased to hear that her niñita born in San Francisco in Agosto of 1784 carried the same name as my sister, Maria del Carmen. I met Doña Eulalia when she returned to Monterrey with her month old angelita, Ma. del Carmen. I had never seen a woman so entranced with an infant. Her life was filled with nothing but to caress the child and plan each day a more lovely costume than the day before.

Padre Serra died soon after her return. No man suffered more to bring the comfort of Christ and his blessed Mother to those who are most in need. For many years he gave all of his strength to bring salvation to the heathens. I believe that they were never grateful enough to warrant the gifts they were given. The mission church seemed to blaze with the light of heaven as Padre Serra's soul soared to the side of our heavenly Father.

The fertility of Doña Eulalia must have had a beneficial effect on me. I became pregnant shortly after she did. Though I have seen many women through their pregnancies and birthing, I was terrified of enduring that ordeal myself. Antonio was not sympathetic. He saw how the Indian women delivered their babies with hardly a moan and expected me to do the same. I gave birth to little José Antonio de los Remedios in January of 1785. The indian woman who attended me had brought dozens of babes into the world. She said that little Tonio was the strongest and most beautiful of all of them. He was baptized at the mission church of San Carlos Borromeo de Carmelo. [Appendix - List of Yorba Grijalva children]

I had scarcely completed the final days of la cuarentena when the scandal of Don Pedro and Doña Eulalia erupted into our quiet world. I knew that she was unhappy in Monterrey. Unlike me, she did not accept her circumstances compliantly. I have always done that which was ordained by the Church, the King, my father and my husband. Doña Eulalia had no such fear of authority. The birth of her precious daughter was the final straw that convinced her she could no longer remain in the wasteland of Alta California.

After her begging and tears did not persuade Don Pedro to send her home to Mexico City, she resorted to threats. She closed her bedroom door to her husband with the intention that he would concede defeat and put her on the next ship to San Blas. Don Pedro, who already had an Indian girl at the ranchería, became bolder in his transgressions. He made no secret of spending his nights in the girl's arms; appearing at his post every morning as if all was well. The fact that the girl Indiquela was only 11 years old added to the scandal. 76

The morning of February 3, 1785 the plaza exploded with a blast of a fury. Doña Eulalia stood in the middle of the square, shrieking that her husband was an adulterer and that she must be allowed to divorce. "I will go to Lucifer himself before allowing you back in my bed!" she screamed. Even her confessor Padre Noriega would not take responsibility for turning the wrong way in the storm. He sent the question of divorce on to the Bishop. Meanwhile Doña Eulalia was confined to her apartment and commanded not to repeat her accusations against her husband.

Figure 36. Cardero, José. Plaza del Presidio de Monterey c. 1791

Just at that time Don Pedro was required to travel south on business. While he was gone he demanded that Doña Eulalia be confined to a nun's cell in the mission so that she would not incite the community against him. Since Don Pedro could not delay his journey, he took his son with him so that he would not be subject to further scandalous utterances from his mother's lips. And wise that he did so. Doña Eulalia did not accept her confinement but screamed and threatened and begged until Pr. Noriega threatened her with flogging and chains. I had never before or since heard such pure rage emerge from a mujer de razón. The only time she held her tongue was when her throat became raw from screaming. Pr. Noriega allowed me to bring her meals to her. The confidences that she whispered to me while she ate made me fear for her sanity.

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When Don Pedro returned 4 months later, he persuaded her to accept some sort of compromise because she was soon back in her apartments in apparent reconciliation. I had the honor of attending Doña Eulalia at the birth of her second daughter in May of 1786 and nursed her through her anguish at the death of newborn Agustina Rosa eight days later.

Without Don Pedro's knowledge Doña Eulalia begged her powerful relatives in the Capital to have her husband returned to Mexico "for reasons of health". Her petition slowly made its way through the chain of authorities. It was beyond my understanding how she could summon the courage to defy her husband as well as her Lord and Saviour. I kept waiting for a bolt of God's wrath to strike her. It never did.

Three years after I married and left San Francisco the news came that my sister Carmen and Pedro Regalado Peralta were to be married. My sweet little sister would be loved and cared for in his strong arms. When their engagement was announced I let everyone believe that my face was wet from tears of joy.

Figure 37. Duché de Vancy, Gaspard. La Perouse at Mission Carmel 1786.

One morning in the fall of 1786 I was awakened by a crier shouting the news that a foreign vessel was approaching the port. We rarely received outside visitors because the King had banned foreign traders from coming into spanish ports. The few ships that approached were quickly sent on their way before they had a chance to cause any mischief. Only because this was an expedition of scientific inquiry rather than conquest

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were they allowed to land. Our supply ships the 'Princesa' and the 'Favorita' were already in the harbor. Don Pedro ordered the captains to take boats out to welcome the visitors while soldiers on land fired a seven gun salute. The scouts return to announce the arrival of a French explorer, Jean-François Lapérouse.

Don Pedro generously supplied the travelers with meat, milk, poultry, vegetables, grain and water. It was said that Señor Lapérouse had to be compelled to accept the generosity of the Spanish government and insisted on paying for supplies. In return he brought us seed grain, fruit tree seedlings, potatoes from Chile, cloth, blankets, beads, and tools, along with a hand mill for grinding grain. The botanists, geologists and other specialists were exceedingly curious about our land, of which they had heard tales but was forbidden to outsiders.

That winter, February of 1787 I received the news that Papá was appointed by Don Pedro to the position of Alferez of the San Diego Presidio. I feared for his safety, knowing that was the site of at least two indian rebellions. After the years of struggle to build a home at San Francisco, Mother was obliged to leave her home to begin again. She left my sister Carmen and her grandchild Juan Pablo Peralta, barely one year old. My little Tonio was 2 years old and I was pregnant a second time when Mother and Papá stopped at Monterrey on their way to the distant Presidio. It was the first time I had seen mother since my marriage four years before. The few possessions that she had acquired over the ten years since she last traversed this 'Camino Real' did not even fill a cart. As she held her little grandson we wept at the thought that we might not meet again.

Soon after our second son Tomás was born in December 1787, Antonio received orders to a new posting as Corporal of the San Diego Presidio. Our transfer was ordered by Don Pedro Fages on the request of Papá, who had been appointed Alferez (second lieutenant) of the San Diego Company. I was pleased to be nearer to Mother and Papá. But after five years I had settled my nest in Monterrey and felt a pang of loss at leaving. Such is the life of a soldier's wife.

It was hard for Antonio's older boys to leave Monterrey where they were equally comfortable at the indian rancherías as in the spaniard's presidio. They had the dusky skin of their mother. Their jade green eyes reflected their father's blue through their native darkness. Antonio was pleased with their accomplishments as caballeros. In spite of my earlier doubts, they showed themselves to be fine young men, respectful and obedient. I almost forgot that they carried the blood of their pagan forebears.

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SAN DIEGO

Because the Presidio at San Diego had been built long before any of the others, I had hoped that we would find agreeable quarters there. But I was disappointed to find that we would be starting from almost nothing. So many beginnings. I was despairing of making a home to sustain my family through the years. It was fortunate that Mother and Papá were willing to share their home with us while ours was being prepared.

Map 8. Vancouver, George. San Diego Bay 1798

Our new home at the Presidio was on a hillside with a long view out to sea. The morning fog chilled the air well past la madrugada but it was much warmer than San Francisco or Monterrey. Including our family there were about one hundred and twenty-five people living there. I was grateful for Mother's company as both Papá and Antonio were often away on duty at one of the three missions of the district, San Diego, San Juan Capistrano, or San Gabriel. She was with me when my first daughter Ysabel Maria was born in the

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winter of 1789. I needed her help, having an infant at the breast and two little ones to care for. Little Tonio ran around the compound with the niñitos looking for treats from neighboring kitchens. Tomasíto was soon ready to quit going pantless and join the others. Shortly after the birth of Ysabel, I heard that another daughter, Luisa, was born to Carmen and Pedro. I longed to see the children of my dear sister playing in the dusty plaza with my children.

Figure 38. San Diego Presidio Hill. 1872 sandiegohistory.org

Every summer we began the anxious wait for the supply ship which might not arrive until autumn. The site where the year's supplies were dropped off was several miles down the bay from the Presidio hill. When the ship was spotted, we all ran down to the embarcadero to greet the Captain and receive mail and news from other ports. The piles of bags and boxes of supplies were brought up by mules. Other than the infrequent supply ships, our isolation was broken only when small parties of soldiers from Baja California or Monterrey arrived with official dispatches and welcome gossip.

While at home the soldiers' duties were to defend the fort, care for the horses and cattle, and carry the mail. Antonio's older boys at the ages of 15 and 13 were eager to ride out with the vaqueros to care for the livestock. When the eldest, Francisco Xavier, was ready to join the military he had the honor of being one of the first Alta California born soldiers in service to our King. We began to hear the word 'Californio' used instead of the multitude of castas from español to mestizo to coyote to mulatto to negro and all of the variations in between. The boys' indian heritage did not seem to hold them back as it would have in the old country. The laxity in the values of casta was distressing to me because our family had so carefully guarded the purity our lineage.

Since leaving Monterrey I often thought of Doña Eulalia and anxiously sought news of her and Don Pedro. I saw her one more time in the winter of 1790 in San Diego. She was 82

traveling with our old friend Capt. Quirós of the 'San Carlos' on her final return to Mexico City. She greeted me most amiably. One could see on her face the relief that she felt in deliverance from this country that for her had been a living hell. I was happy to show off my little ones and she was proud to show me my namesake, María Josefa Fages y Callis who was already two years old. After Doña Eulalia stepped on board ship to sail for Mexico, I expected that I would not again meet a lady of such audacity and refinement.

A second daughter, Maria de la Presentacion Y Cecilia, was born at San Diego in 1791. The next year we received the painful news that Antonio's eldest son Francisco Xavier drowned near Mission San Miguel in Baja California. It was his first military assignment away from home. I was surprised at the sadness in my heart when I heard he was gone. Though I had not welcomed him wholly at the time of our marriage, he grew to be a good son to me.

Our third daughter Ma. Raimunda Fermina Nepomucena was born in born in July of 1793. She was only a few months old when Capt. George Vancouver's ship arrived in the bay of San Diego. Because prohibitions against foreign visitors were still in force, he was tolerated but not warmly welcomed.

Vancouver: "The actual condition of the people ill accorded with the ideas we had conceived of the sumptuous manner in which the Spaniards live on this side of the globe. Instead of finding a country tolerably well inhabited and far advanced in cultivation, if we except its natural pastures, flocks of sheep, and herds of cattle, there is not an object to indicate the most remote connection with any European or other civilized nation.

The Presidio of St. Diego seemed to be the least of the Spanish establishments. It is irregularly built, on very uneven ground, which makes it liable to some inconveniences, without the obvious appearance of any object for selecting such a spot. With little difficulty it might be rendered a place of considerable strength, by establishing a small force at the entrance of the port; where at this time there were neither works, guns, houses, or other habitations nearer than the Presidio, five miles from the port, and where they have only three small pieces of brass cannon."

No wonder he was so ill impressed. Shortly after Raimunda was born the corner of the officers' quarters collapsed because of the poor timbers used to construct the roof. It was only because we spent most of our days outside hauling water and doing laundry that we were not crushed to death. There were few trees worthy of use for construction so timbers were shipped all the way from Monterrey to replace the worthless sticks that were supposed to shelter us.

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Map 9. Vallejo, Mariano. 1820 http://www.sandiegohistory.org/journal/86summer/vallejo.htm

I was grateful for improvements in our poor living conditions. The vineyards began to produce. Fruit trees brought here as twigs thrived as long as they receive enough water and protection from livestock. The cattle were multiplying and threatened to overrun us if we did not keep them under control.

Our fourth son José Domingo was born in the spring of 1795. Only 15 months later, barely able to walk, he was taken back to heaven. Doubtless the wretched state of our crumbling walls and poor water supply hastened his death. After 20 years in this god- forsaken land we still did not have a solid roof over our heads.

Don Manuel de Vargas, a retired Sergeant, opened the first school in Alta California at San Diego in 1795. My nephew Juan Pablo Peralta, son of Carmen and Pedro, came to San Diego to live with Mother and Papá at 9 years of age to attend school. They had raised two married daughters and were thrilled to finally have a boy. They indulged his every whim. He always had the finest, horse, saddle and attire.

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Juan Pablo, Tonio and Tomás were inseparable, whether studying or trying to follow the men out to work with the cattle. At 10 to 12 years of age the boys were more at ease on horseback than on foot. They trailed after the vaqueros and came home only to eat and sleep. They all aspired to one day be called "Caballero". It was a struggle to keep them at their lessons. But I was determined that they must learn to read, write and calculate. Businessmen and shrewd foreign traders were coming into our lands and I would not allow my children to ignore education to their detriment.

The gente de razón came to Alta California to save the indios from their godless destiny with hell. But too many of them refused to accept the benefits of christian civilization. In 1795 at the age of 53 Papá was returning to the Presidio with three natives arrested on a charge of murder. He and his troop were attacked by a horde of indios. His horse was killed but he survived with injuries that would plague him for the rest of his life. I prayed that his life would not end at the point of an arrow as did his father.

By the age of 54 Papá had suffered enough in service to our King. After 33 years, having been promoted to Lieutenant, he asked for retirement because of his injuries. He had dealt out punishment to the indios and had been injured by them. He said that he could not "continue to lend my services with the vigor of the past". He asked for permission to stay at San Diego. His request was granted by Gov. Diego de Borica in 1796. Antonio was promoted to Company Sergeant of the Presidio of San Diego. With this promotion we were able to move into larger quarters which we sorely needed with five little ones at home. [Doc. B - Grijalva Retirement Letter]

Papá had seen the best lands of Alta California. He said that he did not want to be left with nothing but scars and aching bones after all that he had sacrificed to secure these lands for Christendom. We knew that grants of land were being awarded to those who had earned the regard of his Royal Highness, through his intermediaries. Papá petitioned Gobernador Diego de Borica for a grant of the 130,000 acre Rancho Las Flores [later known as Camp Pendleton Marine Corps Base]. His request was denied.

Gov. Diego de Borica said of land near Las Flores in 1794: "This is a great country; climate healthful, between cold and temperate; good bread, excellent meat, tolerable fish; and bon humeur which is worth all the rest. Plenty to eat, but the most astounding is the general fecundity, both of rationals and irrationals. The climate is so good that all are getting to look like Englishmen. This is the most peaceful and quiet country in the world; one lives better here than in the most cultured court of Europe."

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A fourth daughter, Francisca Dominga, was born to us in 1797. By then I had a girl from the ranchería near San Diego to help with the housekeeping. My fifth daughter, my angelita María de los Nieves passed away only 4 days after her birth in August of 1798 during an epidemic of diarrhea. I was also ill and barely strong enough to nurse her. She never had a chance to see the sky.

Antonio, only a few years younger than Papá, retired in 1798 at age 52 after over 30 years of service. He still suffered the effects of the scurvy he endured on board the 'San Carlos' in his youth. His retirement meant that we had to leave the officers' quarters in the Presidio. Again we built a house adjoined to that of my parents on a sandy plain below the Presidio. It was much easier to make adobe bricks in San Diego than it had been in San Francisco and the neofitos had become quite competent in construction.

Shortly after we completed our new quarters outside of the Presidio a violent shaking sent the poorly made walls of the Presidio crumbling to the ground. I said an extra rosary to the Blessed Virgin to thank her for saving us from the great earthquake of 1800.

Because he was receiving only half-pay for retirement (and often not even that) Antonio had to find another way to support our growing family. He and Papá had decided that their destiny was cattle. Papá was very disappointed when his request for the Rancho Las Flores was turned down. But they resolved to try again for a grant of land.

Food crops were finally thriving in Alta California. There was enough wheat to make our large soft tortillas sonorenses for every meal. There was plenty of corn, preferred by los indios and the horses. The supply ships brought us white sugar, panocha, rice, peas, peanuts, tamarinds, honey, and brandy. The girls made little beds for their dolls from the baskets lined with cloth that brought the panocha.

Figure 39. Tortillas sonorense

The next year we had a visit from a ship carrying eighteen orphans from Mexico City on their way to Monterrey. We were told that the children were brought to help populate

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the country with gente de razón. I later heard that they were distributed to families 'like puppies' for adoption. I could not have foreseen that the real treasure on that ship was Doña Apolinaria Lorenzana. After a few years in Santa Bárbara with Capt. Carrillo and his wife Doña Tomasa Lugo, Apolinaria was brought to San Diego to stay with Doña Josefa Sal.

The treasure that she brought with her was the knowledge of reading and writing. Unlike Don Manuel de Vargas, who passed his skills only to young men, she was determined to teach the girls to read and write. The older girls went to Doña Apolinaria every afternoon to learn their catechism, reading, writing, and sewing. They learned the fine embroidery work that she had been taught as a child at the orphanage in the Capitol. Their embroidered sashes, vests and decorated silk garters were coveted by all of the local gentlemen. Her specialty was making the men's headcloths with tips worked to resemble lace.

There was no relief from the heat through the long summer of 1801 when Little Bernardo was born in the treeless pueblo of San Diego. He was a special gift from God. It had been 15 years since my last son was born. By then all of the boys were out working with the men. I had four girls at home between the ages of 4 and 13 and they treated him like their own little prince.

Having daughters and sons of marriageable age meant that fiesta days were never ignored in the households of the gente de razón. We especially looked forward to the celebration of Carnaval before the beginning of Lent. Following that would be a long season of abstention until the celebration of Easter. Young soldiers from as far away as Santa Bárbara would come to a fiesta when it was known that the Yorba girls would attend.

I remember music and dancing and the bursting of cascarones! The many eggs that were emptied in the making of flan for the feast were filled with shimmering bits of colored paper or perfumed water. The girls would hide them in their bodice until a gentleman's attention was diverted. Then he would be surprised by a crack on the head followed by a glittering cascade. Occasionally a man turned the tables on the object of his interest. But he ran a severe risk of receiving a stern look instead of a welcoming giggle if his attentions were not desired by the señorita.

There would usually be a couple of guitars and a violin. If we were lucky old Prieto would come up from Loreto with his trumpet. The musicians took their places at one end of the plaza. The men did not mix with the women as they do today. We women sat on one side of the plaza, men on the other. My comadres and I stayed in the shadows to gossip where we would have a good view of the señoritas seated close by. We made sure that all behaved properly, yet not so properly that potential matches could not be arranged.

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RANCHO SANTIAGO DE SANTA ANA After he retired and was denied the grant of the Rancho Las Flores, Papá was determined to secure a place that would nurture our family for the future. He had never forgotten the first sight of the Río de Santa Ana running through its green valley after our crossing of the deserts and mountains from Sonora. Perhaps the temblores that shook the ground when we approached were a divine message.

Papá and Antonio had acquired a decent herd of cattle and the grasslands around San Diego were becoming severely depleted by the rapidly multiplying livestock. They needed to find new pasturage. They agreed that the valley of the Santa Ana was favorable for raising cattle and crops. So they took their herds to graze along the south side of el Río de Santa Ana, ranging from the playa [Newport Beach] to la sierra Santiago [Santa Ana Mountains]. Papá called the place el Arroye de Santiago (Santiago Stream).

Map 10. No. 346 S.D. Bernardo Yorba et al Clmt. "Santiago de Santa Ana" Los Angeles County D-1395

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On Dec. 8, 1801 Grijalva asked Comandante Rodriguez of San Diego Presidio to petition Governor José Joaquín de Arrillaga for grant of the Rancho Santiago de Santa Ana on his behalf. He asked for the tract called "Arroyo de Santiago" for the purpose of keeping his cattle and horses. He described the area as along the banks of the Santa Ana River, from the mountains to the sea. Apparently this was one of several petitions by Grijalva for a place to put his cattle and build a house. Rodriguez recommended to Gov. Arrillaga that the request be approved. The place was far enough away from both Missions San Gabriel and San Juan Capistrano and there was no indian village there. His occupation of the place would be useful. He said Grijalva needed a place for his great number of cattle that would not encroach on grazing lands of Manuel Nieto or the Presidio of San Diego. [Doc. C - Grijalva request for grant of "Arroyo de Santiago]

Though he did not receive clear title to the land, Papá was granted grazing rights and built a small adobe house on a bluff a few miles upriver from the joining of the Arroyo de Santiago with the Río de Santa Ana. Antonio also spent most of his time up at the rancho after he retired from military service. Juan Pablo Peralta, Tonio, and Tomás, felt that they were men enough to stay on the rancho but Antonio demanded that they return to San Diego to attend Don Manuel's school during the short days of winter. On the advice of their grandfather, the boys were the first men in the family not to go into military service. Perhaps he foresaw the changes coming in this country long before the rest of us.

Figure 40. Grijalva Adobe site photo by A. S. Yorba 2013 Orange County Historical Commission Site No. 45

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The land was fertile and could be irrigated from the river. Efforts at farming began to bear fruit. The indios learned to plow fields for planting of row crops. They also planted whatever fruit trees they could barter from the padres at San Juan Capistrano and San Gabriel. Before long there were enough indian vaqueros to care for the growing herds of cattle, horses, and sheep.

The hostile Gabrielino indians that Padre Serra encountered in 1771 when he first attempted to establish a mission on the banks of the Río de Santa Ana had been dispersed by disease, loss of hunting grounds, or retreat to the mountains beyond the reach of los españoles. Fortunately for Grijalva and Yorba, Serra moved the site of the Mission San Gabriel Arcángel twenty miles to the northwest. The surviving indios were willing to work in exchange for the food and shelter that was provided by the rancho once their traditional ways were lost.

We began to harvest wheat, corn, beans and barley. We no longer had to wait for the half rotten bags of grain to be unloaded from the ships coming from Mexico. But I still looked forward to the sugar, brandy, and fine goods that came with the supply ships.

Mother and I would take the rest of the children up to the rancho to help with butchering and harvesting in the fall and again during the spring roundup. But she refused to permanently leave her home in San Diego. She swore that she refused to live in a cattle pen and if Papá wanted her to come, he would have to build a home worthy of her. She made sure that Antonio understood the same.

Those years in San Diego Mother always seemed to be on the verge of aggravation with me. I don't know why. Our time together while the men were on the rancho did not diminish her annoyance. I think she could not accept the idea that I had grown into the mistress of my own household and did not always accept her advice.

Eulalia Perez de Guillén, who was to become a lifelong friend, came to San Diego with her husband in 1802 from the Presidio at Loreto in Baja California. She was about the same age as I was and we enjoyed each other's company as did our children. She had already suffered the loss of 2 sons. Her daughter Petra became great friends with my girls Raimunda and Presentación. I found support and understanding with her that I have seldom experienced in this life of troubles. I thanked the blessed Virgin that Doña Lalia had the gift of bringing children into the light. She assisted at the births of Juan Pablo (1803), Teodosio (1805), Andrea Ygnacio (1807), and Martin (1810). All of them were born strong and healthy. Even though I had already given birth to 9 children, I welcomed her help. She also was there with me to bury little Juan Pablo at one year of age. Her strength and love helped me survive his loss.

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The whole Presidio celebrated the marriage of Pedro and Carmen's son Juan Pablo Peralta to Gertrudis Arce in 1804. More marriages followed.

In 1805 three of the children left the home hearth to begin their own families. Cecelia and Ysabel had a double wedding on May 26 at San Diego. My Ysabel married José Joaquín Maitorena. Cecelia was wed to José Leandro Serrano. It was the biggest celebration ever seen at the Presidio. The night before the wedding the two couples joined hands in the presence of their padrinos. The next morning all attended the wedding mass at the chapel, where the bride and groom and their padrinos kneeled together in the sanctuary holding lit candles. After mass, we returned home to have breakfast followed by a dance. The dancing went on until la comida was served under the olive trees in the afternoon. After a siesta Cdte. José de la Guerra y Noriega and the officers of the Presidio led the dancing that continued all night.

Jose Carmen Lugo: "When a señorita displayed special skill in La Jota or El Jarabe, the men placed their hats on her head, one on top of the other; and when she could carry no more on her head she took them in her hands; and when she could take no more they threw them at her feet. Then they threw their mangas, or wraps, on the floor for her to honor them by dancing on them. When she retired to her seat, each man had to ransom his hat or other property with money, giving the lady what he could afford or wished to give. Here entered pride and the desire to shine; and as a result no one gave her less than a peso, and some gave as much as ten, fifteen, or twenty pesos."

Unfortunately, I was so far embarazada with Teodosio that I could not join in the festivities. Surely the excitement contributed to his birth one week later. The music and vibration of the ground as our friends and neighbors danced the night away must have influenced his later character, for he was always eager for a fiesta.

My girls seemed too young to leave my side. I was sad when Cecelia and Leandro left for Pala where Leandro served as mayordomo of the mission. Ysabel went off with Maitorena to his post in Santa Bárbara.

The Maitorena Yorba match proved to be an unfortunate one. He was prey to drunkenness and kept his place in the Santa Bárbara Company only because he had skills as an accountant. In spite of his alcoholism (or perhaps because of it) he was elected to the Mexican congress and sent to serve in Mexico City. While in Mexico, he was the object of much ridicule for his antics. He was not in a condition to take his seat as diputado, and he died there about the time his term of office expired in 1830. Ysabel had no children with Joaquín and never married again. She did adopt four children after his death. Her abilities became apparent when she later succeeded in obtaining a land grant of her own, Rancho Guadalasca near Ventura.

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Four months later Tonio (José Antonio de los Remedios Yorba II) married María Antonia Verdugo at Mission San Gabriel. Tonio brought his bride to live with us in San Diego until he could build her a suitable house on the rancho.

The year of 1806 was a difficult time for our family. Antonio's last surviving son from his first marriage, Diego Maria, died in San Diego at the age of 26. I was heartbroken when dear Papá died on June 21 of the same year. He did not live to see the realization of his dream, our family securely ensconced on the Rancho Santiago de Santa Ana. He and Diego were both laid to rest near our three little angels, José Domingo, Maria de la Nieves and Juan Pablo, at the graveyard of Mission San Diego de Alcalá. In the midst of sadness we celebrated the birth of our first grandchild, a girl born to Tonio and Maria.

At the time of Papá's death he had 700 head of cattle, 25 horses, 60 mares, and 54 mules. He was still owed back pay from his military service. He willed all of his property to Mother, his grandchildren, Antonio, and Juan Pablo Peralta. It puzzled me that he specifically said that he left nothing to Carmen and me, his daughters. He had promised me that I would be taken care of. Cdte. Rodriguez in San Diego later told me that he urged Papá to remember his daughters in his will, since it was feared he could not legally omit us. But he refused, saying that we had been fully provided for in marriage. [Doc. D - Will of Juan Pablo Grijalva]

Two months after Papá's burial, we rode in a black draped carreta to the consecration of the new church at San Juan Capistrano. It was the finest structure ever built in Alta California. To pass through the enormous carved wooden doors into the grand arched vault was like entering the kingdom of heaven itself. It was hard to believe that such a grand temple to our faith was built by indian workmen from stone and mortar. Ysabel and Joaquín Maitorena came from Santa Barbara. All of the padres and military men who could be spared from their posts were in attendance for the grand tribute to our Lord and Savior. Even Gov. Arrillaga was present. The ceremonies and celebrations went on for three days.

After Papá's death Juan Pablo took Gertrudis to live in the adobe that his grandfather Grijalva had built as a cattlemen's field shelter. Antonio had asked him to come to help care for the growing herds of livestock, orchards, and field crops. In 1807 their son Genaro Estaquio Peralta was the first child of the family born on the rancho. Unfortunately the bad habits that Juan Pablo had acquired carousing with the young soldiers of the Presidio were not put away with marriage. Poor Gertrudis found it impossible to tolerate his drunkenness and the primitive conditions at Santiago. She soon returned to San Diego to stay with Mother, who was forever making excuses for Juan Pablo, the darling of her later years.

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The family continued to expand. In 1809 Ma. Raimunda Fermina married Juan Bautista Alvarado from Santa Bárbara. I was pleased that he was transferred to a post in San Diego and she would not have to leave my side for awhile.

The men carried out a furious campaign to ensure that Papá's land grant was officially recognized while they still had influence with high officials in government. The result of their efforts was the concession of the 62,000 acre Rancho Santiago de Santa Ana by Gov. Arrillaga in July of 1810. The confirmation renewed Antonio's faith that it was God's will that we dwell in these lands.

In 1809 Tomás Yorba drafted a petition to Gov. Arrillaga on behalf of Antonio Yorba to secure the grant of the lands along the banks of the Río de Santa Ana. He wrote that, while Grijalva's petition for the lands known as Paraje de Santiago did not mention Yorba, he and Grijalva had a partnership that should be honored after Grijalva's death. Antonio Yorba and Juan Pablo Peralta had agreed to settle the lands together with Yorba's sons. In view of his advanced years he wanted to make sure his family was well provided for. Arrillaga referred the matter to San Diego Cmdte. Francisco María Ruiz. [Doc. E - Petition of Antonio Yorba]

Ruiz responded that the records documenting the original grant to Don Pablo Grijalva could not be found. His widow Doña Dolores Valencia said that she had given the papers to Don Raimundo Carrillo (Comandante of Presidio San Diego from 1807 - 1809, died in 1809). She did not know what had happened to the papers after his death. Grijalva had told her that he made the grant request in his own name alone, but she was willing that Antonio Yorba and his family and Juan Pablo Peralta should be permitted to remain upon the land. [Doc. F - Report of Lieut. Francisco Maria Ruiz]

Again in 1810 Tomás Yorba petitioned Arrillaga on behalf of J. A. Yorba to grant the concession on the basis of a favorable recommendation by Cdte. Ruiz. The Governor responded that he had no objection to granting Yorba and Peralta possession of the requested lands. The grant was confirmed by the Mexican government at Monterrey March 13, 1840. [Doc. G - Request by Antonio Yorba for Paraje de Santiago, decree by Gov. Arrillaga]

I was worried for my health when I became pregnant again at the age of forty-four. I knew I needed to pay attention to my coming niñito rather than to the men's intrigues. In the winter of 1810, a darling son Martin arrived. Shortly after his birth my comadre Doña Eulalia Perez y Guillen left San Diego for the Mission San Gabriel. She was not there to comfort me when little Martin died at the age of two. He was laid next to the 3 other niños sleeping with Papá at the San Diego Mission graveyard. By the age of 46, so many small pieces of my heart have been buried in that graveyard that I did not have enough left to bring another child into this world.

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In the spring of 1811 my Francisca Dominga married Francisco Ortega at San Diego. She went to live with her husband and his family in Santa Bárbara. His father José Francisco Ortega was a compañero of Antonio on the Portolá expedition. He was well established in Santa Barbara and a personal friend of Governor Arrillaga. She was only 14 years old at the time of her marriage. I was pleased that Francisca would be near her sister Ysabel who could be a little mother to her.

The phantom voices of my four little ones that had gone to their final rest echoed off the walls of the house in San Diego. Only Maria Andrea (5) and Teodosio (7) were left with me. At 11 years of age Bernardo spent most of his time at the rancho with Antonio, Tonio, and Tomás. He handled a horse almost as well as his father. Tonio's wife, Ma. Antonia, had 3 children by then and she asked me to stay with her in San Diego until her husband finished building a house for them at Santiago. Antonio was pressuring me to come to the rancho. But I couldn't bear to be so far away from the graves of my little ones who would stay behind.

How many times can a heart be broken? In 1814 my sweet Francisca Dominga, only 17 years old and married 3 years to Francisco Ortega, died 10 days after the birth of her first son, Francisco Manuel. I had not seen her since she moved to Santa Barbara after her wedding and I didn't know when I would see my little grandson. Gracias a la Virgen I have lived to see the eyes of my sweet Francisca in the face of her Panchito. I wondered did she cry out for her Mamá as she felt her soul slipping away. I wish I could have been there to hold her niñito in my arms to make certain that he felt the love of a mother in his first days of life.

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LIFE ON THE RANCHO

Santa Ana Viejo - home of Antonio I, 1801 home of Juan Pablo Grijalva Tomás, Teodocio, and Bernardo (as youth) up Santiago Creek

Map 11. Gibson, Wayne Dell. Tomas Yorbas Santa Ana Viejo 1769 - 1847. Santa Ana College Foundation Press. 1976. Santa Ana Abajo - home of JAY II 1.5 mi. west of Orange "alternate el Camino Real"

This house where we now sit overlooking the Río de Santa was built around the first casita that Antonio built, with the help of Tonio, Tomás and Bernardo. They now call it "Santa Ana Viejo". By 1815 little 10 year-old Teo was begging to stay with his father and brothers at the rancho. Tonio was building his own house a few miles downstream where the old road from San Juan Capistrano used to cross the river. You know it as "Santa Ana Abajo". My nephew Juan Pablo planned to improve the house that Papá had built up the Santiago Creek.

Andrea and I stayed in San Diego with Antonia and her four little ones until Tonio completed a house that would accommodate their growing family. Gertrudis Peralta and their three children were still at Mother's house waiting for Juan Pablo to provide them a decent home on the rancho.

But problems between Antonio and Juan Pablo were festering. Although they had been granted equal shares in the Rancho Santiago de Santa Ana, Antonio felt that Juan Pablo should show him the proper respect due an uncle, rather than an equal. Juan Pablo refused to bow to Antonio's authority. He had never accepted any form of discipline and

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would not change for Antonio. He continued to drink excessively and even drew his sword against Antonio while demanding money to fuel his bad habits. Antonio made a complaint to Gov. Argüello of Juan Pablo's scandalous behavior asking that Peralta be brought under control.

Argüello passed Yorba's petition on to Francisco Ruiz, the Cdte. of San Diego Presidio with the instruction that Peralta be brought to task and counseled "to moderate his conduct or he would be punished and removed from the place of Santa Ana". Ruiz replied to Argüello that, while Peralta had been disrespectful of Yorba, Yorba had treated Peralta with little patience. He said of Yorba "it is also well known that he [Yorba] gets angry on the slightest occasion . . . and this want of patience in the Uncle is the cause of much trouble. . . " . Ruiz concluded his recommendation that they should be watched without interference unless absolutely necessary. [Doc. H. - Letters]

You should have heard Antonio roar when he received his old friend Ruiz' response to Gov. Argüello. I made sure to stay out of his way when the subject of young Juan Pablo came up. His temper was like the hot dry santa ana winds that blew up from nowhere and scoured the valley with a ferocity that would flatten anything in its path. It is curious that the name of our Río de Santa Ana has given its name to those savage desert winds.

Figure 41. California State Park Commission Historical Landmark #204. photo by A. S. Yorba 2013

Juan Pablo finally convinced Mother (his grandmother) and his wife Gertrudis to bring their five children to live on the rancho after his son Rafael's birth in 1816. With their 98

departure I knew that the time would soon come to join the rest of the family on the Río de Santa Ana. By 1817 all of the boys were spending most of their time at the Rancho. I argued that they needed to continue their studies in San Diego. But life on the rancho with their father and the lure of horses, and cattle were no match for my opinion.

The arrival of essential goods from Mexico became even more unpredictable as foreign pirates grew bolder in their attacks on the supply ships from San Blas. The drop that finally made the cup overflow was the terror caused by the pirate Bouchard in 1818. His ship attacked Monterrey and attempted to seize the Presidio and burn what he could not take. Couriers rushed to warn the rest of the coastal outposts before he should arrive. Tonio's wife Maria was with child and the horrifying tales of approaching pirates were enough to send us away from the coast to the security of the rancho.

Juan Pablo and Antonio's bickering got worse after Antonio's complaint to the Governor. It finally drove them to retreat to separate parts of the rancho and break off their common enterprises. By the time I arrived at Santa Ana Viejo Juan Pablo and Gertrudis had moved up the river to "Santa Ana Arriba". Mother went with them. I wished she did not blame my husband for the dispute. She thought Antonio was trying to coerce Juan Pablo out of his fair share of the land. My heart hurt that she took Pablo's side against us. I don't really know how it came about that I was estranged from my Mother and the child of Carmen and Pedro Regalado. I hoped that distance and time would diminish our differences

Tonio's son José Miguel Yorba Verdugo was the first Yorba born at the rancho in 1818. Tonio's house at Santa Ana Abajo was a six-room adobe in the shape of an “L”, with wide outdoor verandas and flat topped brea (tar) roof. There was a smaller adobe cookhouse surrounded by out-buildings. The women worked at their grinding and weaving in the cool shade of the ramadas surrounding the courtyard. The indian workers live in brush jacales (huts) on the outskirts of the compound.

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Figure 42. Recreation of Tongva (Gabrieleño) Indian hut c. 1790. San Gabriel Archángel Mission. Photo by A. S. Yorba

Once I accepted the move to Rancho Santiago, life settled into a comfortable pattern. My daughter Andrea was a great comfort to me being that all the other girls were married and far away. The boys had taken on the responsibility of men in running the ranch. There were indian girls to cook and clean, and do the milking. They had learned to card, spin, and weave wool. Their men took care of the crops, the cattle, and the sheep. The bits of the Tongva language that I had learned as a girl at San Gabriel served me well in relations with the indios. Antonio worked well with them also and found capable managers to support his efforts.

At first our house was one room of adobe roofed with tule thatch. Antonio added one wing and then another until we had a large sala and three bedrooms, one for Antonio and I, another for the girls, and a third for visitors. By the time our own children were grown we needed room for their young families as well as traveling guests. Every night I made sure that the señoritas were securely tucked into their beds before retiring myself. The men and boys usually slept outside on the wide veranda.

The girls and their husbands, Cecelia and Leandro Serrano, Raimunda and Juan Alvarado, came often with their children to spend time with us and to replenish the provisions that were difficult to obtain in Pala and San Diego. By that time we were harvesting enough grain, vegetables and fruits to supply our large family.

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Figure 43. Santa Ana Viejo Photo by A. S. Yorba 2013

The olive trees planted to shade the house called to travelers passing from San Diego to Los Angeles on the Camino Real. They knew that they would always receive a warm welcome at the home of José Antonio Yorba. In those days our doors had no lock or key because there was no one who would enter to steal. Anyone passing along the road was welcome to food and shelter. He would be given a fresh horse that would either be brought back or left with a compeñero to be returned later. He would be supplied with provisions if the trip was to be long. Of course we wouldn't think of taking a cent for anything.

With our sons' growing families there was continuous new construction. Tomás and Bernardo built casas near ours. A work crew of indios went from house to house, mixing and stacking adobe brick, spreading plaster and thatching roofs. They brought tar to waterproof the roofs from ponds of the strange black substance that bubbled up from the ground.

Figure 44. Bubbling tar at La Brea tarpits

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La brea (raw tar) used to waterproof roofs came from a naturally occurring seepage near the rancho. The Yorba family retained gathering rights to the brea long after the land where it occurred was sold - and may retain those rights to this day.

In 1820 Tonio's wife Maria Antonia was taken by God leaving seven motherless children. I was glad I was close by to help care for them. An indian woman stayed at Tonio's house to manage the household. But the children were often underfoot in my home - to my great pleasure.

Dust motes danced in the rays of light coming through our new glass windows. There was always dust to be swept up in an adobe home. It drifted down from the thatch of the roof and off the walls as children ran in and out. The packed earth floor was sprinkled with water every morning and was buffed it to a dull glow by the many footsteps that passed across it.

Figure 45. Stone water filter

One precious object that have I kept with me all the way from Monterrey is the heavy stone drinking water filter that still sits in a shady nook in the kitchen and has always kept our water cool and clear.

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Juanito, the chief craftsman on the rancho, built an adobe cookstove so I wouldn't have to bend over a fire in my elder days. It had holes in the top to place pots over the firebox underneath. I even had an oven where I made bread for the whole family twice a week.

Figure 46. Kitchen at Mission San Carlos Borromeo. Photo by A. S. Yorba 2013

Before the sun began to light the mountains to the east, Antonio would rise and call the family to prayers. After attending to the good graces of our Blessed Virgin we set about the things of man. The indias bent to grind wheat for the morning tortillas and light a fire in the hearth. Other girls were out behind the kitchen grinding corn for the workers' morning atole.

Antonio went out before his morning meal to direct the men in their labor. But not before the first sip from his steaming chocolatera. Misfortune came to anyone who might have misplaced his special cup. Other than his chocolate, Antonio would not breakfast until the day was fully awakened and chores had been assigned. He then returned for a breakfast of meat, frijoles, and bread or tortillas. After he left the house in the morning I could savor the quiet for a moment before the burning sun and harsh noises of ranch life intruded.

The indios morning meal was roasted or dried meat with chili, onions, tomatoes, and beans. The workers sometimes preferred a meal of champurrado (chocolate mixed with atole from corn). The children were always eager to share the indios' champurrado mixed with cinnamon, and sugar.

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The vaqueros were off early to hunt or herd cattle and horses. While Antonio and his adult sons rode with saddle, bridle, spurs, and boots, the young boys and indios often rode bareback. The privilege of riding horses was strictly limited to trusted indian vaqueros. In the early days the natives were prohibited from learning to ride horses for fear of giving them power that might lead to revolt. But the cattle increased at such a rate that rancheros could not manage without their service as vaqueros.

The seasons revolved around working with the cattle. The main exports of the rancho were dried hides and tallow. In the fall the animals selected for slaughter were brought in, killed, and skinned. Most of the meat, after being distributed to whoever wanted it for food, was left to rot on the ground. The fatty parts were thrown into huge cauldrons to be rendered into tallow. The tallow was then poured into barrels for shipment to distant ports to be made into candles and soap. Hides were stretched and dried.

Bulls were castrated in the cool month of January when farming work was light. The vaqueros brought the young bulls down from the hills and herded them into the corral. They enjoyed a barbeque of huevos de toros roasted on a fire outside the corral. Later the empty scrotum was clapped on the faces of young Yorba men "to grow hair on your chin".

José Antonio II served as juez del campo (field judge) for the big rodeo that came in the spring. The unbranded cattle that had wandered off with neighboring herds were gathered together, often at the corrals of Santa Ana Abajo. The vaqueros drove the cattle believed to belong to each rancho into separate corrals. After the juez del campo approved the divisions, each ranchero drove his stock home to be marked with his own brand.

Truly the way that the indios took to horses shows the animal in them that carried down from their heathen forefathers. The vaqueros on Rancho Santiago de Santa Ana were the best in the land. They were known and feared at horse races and corridas all over Alta California.

The milk cows stood in their corral bawling while waiting for the milking girls. Doña China had charge of the milking. Woe to the muchacha who had not properly cleaned and strained her pail of milk. Under her direction the girls made cheese and butter. Once the milking was done, they busied themselves with cooking, sewing, and washing.

At mid-day the muchachas took a meal of meat and vegetables out to the farm workers. The vaqueros working in the hills skinned and roasted whatever they were able to hunt down in the course of their day's work. If Antonio and the boys were near the house they came in for a meal of meat stew, vegetables, tortillas, and sometimes a sweet dessert with a glass or two of wine. I treasured the set of dinnerware that Antonio traded from a Yankee ship captain. All of the children were taught to eat properly with a knife, fork, 104

and spoon. The indios used cow horns for cups and scoops.

Out in the fields the older men prepared the ground and sowed the seed to take advantage of the winter and spring rains. The men built ditches to bring water from the Santiago Creek to irrigate the rich river bottom fields. Old Pablo, who had been born and raised on this land was the only one permitted to use the iron tipped plow. It was a precious tool not easily replaced but easily broken by the sharp rocks throughout the floodplain. We planted as much as could be used by our families who were numerous by that time: corn, beans, barley, and other grains, squash, watermelons, and cantaloupes.

The other big annual event on the rancho was the harvesting of field crops. At harvest time Yorba sent to Mission San Gabriel for extra workers. The Alcalde would send a number of unmarried indian youths to work on the ranchos. Here they were fed and sheltered and returned to the mission when the work was complete. The mission was paid a small fee for their care. With sickles they cut the wheat stalks and took them to the threshing ground. The wheat was piled in a corral where a herd of unbroken mares were turned loose to trample it. Any grain that was left unthreshed was beaten with clubs - as was the corn, beans, peas, and lentils. The threshed grain was pushed to one side of the corral. Then, they took it up with large wooden shovels and threw it against the wind, which blew the chaff and straw away. The heavier grain fell down on the clean ground and was collected into large horsehide sacks and sealed as well as possible to keep out weevils or other pests.

We had fruit trees bearing pears, apples, pomegranates, olives, peaches, nectarines, and walnuts. The Criolla or "Mission grape," given to us by the padres at San Juan Capistrano thrived. Our family was fortunate that the padres shared seedlings of grapes, oranges and lemons. I looked forward to springtime when the scent of citrus blossoms would drift in to wake me in the morning.

I still enjoyed going down to the streambed with las muchachas to do laundry just as I did as a girl. Even when I had enough help to be excused from the chore I used the excuse that the girls needed to be supervised to do the job correctly. I looked forward to the scent of the rich wet streambed. The pungent scent of the shrubs shading the scrubbing stones calmed my nerves while the clear sunlight sifting through the trees overhead soothed my soul.

Two boys had the full time job of cutting and hauling firewood. At first it was plentiful. Before long they had to ride all day to get to where the large trees still grew. Carpenters often had to go even further to find the quality of wood to be used in house rafters and furniture. Most of what we have in the house was made here: a table, a few stools and

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benches. Only the guest room and our bedroom had a wood frame bedstead with stretched cowhide. The children slept on piles of hides cushioned with layers of straw.

Evenings came soft and cool, a relief from the searing days. After a small evening meal of pinole with meat stew Antonio called the household to prayer. Sometimes there were just a handful of relatives with los indios as we prayed together the rosary. Other times the collection of family and friends filled the patio and the indios had to listen from outside.

Figure 47. Padre's room at Mission San Carlos Borroméo de Carmel. Photo by A. S. Yorba

Sleep was a welcome release on my bed of tightly stretched strips of hide covered with softened calf skins. Antonio bought me smooth cotton sheets from Mexico. For the rare nights when the cool breeze sent a chill through the bones, we had warm blankets made of wool from the sheep that grazed the upper valleys. The family of the india Maria Feliciana excelled in weaving. Her husband sheared the sheep when they were brought down by the shepherds in the spring. She carefully supervised the cleaning and carding of the wool and could spin a thread as fine as the best spanish linen. From her former life in the rancherías she brought the knowledge of dying many colors with flowers, roots, bark, and leaves.

Once the little girls starting turning into señoritas, the attention to attire rose above all other considerations. They would have turned up their noses at the serviceable uniform that I was allowed as a girl on the long trail north. The appropriate dress for a young lady was of a short sleeved blouse tucked into a skirt with several layers of petticoats 106

beneath. As we could afford better, the undermost skirt became finer cotton and finally silk for young brides. You have seen the piece of blue silk that I embroidered to give to my eldest granddaughter. It was made to be worn over the shoulders with the points crossed over her breast and fastened at each side of her belt. Even when we could afford better, my favorite rebozo was a dark blue soft cotton from Puebla. I still have one bit of cloth from my childhood in Sonora. It is a piece of a silk rebozo given to me by my grandmother Luisa Maria de Leiva that I sneaked into the bottom of my pack. I have managed to keep that scrap of smooth silk that still seems to carry her fragrance.

Figure 48. Nebel, Carl. Man with Young Women. 1836

The first grand fiesta that we celebrated here at the Rancho Santiago was the wedding of our youngest daughter Maria Andrea Ygnacio (age 15) to José Maria Avila. The wedding mass took place at the Mission San Juan Capistrano on January 23, 1823. José Maria's father was a compañero of Antonio in the army. People said that José was a hard worker and would do well in the world. Avila became alcalde (mayor) of Los Angeles in 1825.

After the mass, the celebration moved to the rancho. The gente de razón from San Diego to Santa Barbara came and stayed for a week. Antonio wore short pants of velvet held at the knee by a band of silver lace. I wrapped his fringed chamois leggings with colorful ribbons to protect his legs above calfskin boots that were embroidered with white thread of the maguey plant. He was very proud of his black silk handkerchief made by Doña Apolinaria in San Diego. She had stitched a geometric design of silver thread with red roses at the corners. I helped him tie it on his head before putting on his hat of finely woven vicuña wool. The costume was finished off with large handkerchief of pure white silk around his neck.

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Figure 49. Nebel, Carl. Rancheros. 1834 Hand colored lithograph.

We gave the ladies all of the rooms available at the rancho. Tents were put up for the men and boys. Many cattle were butchered to feed all of the guests - both gente de razón and los indios. Every evening after the medio-dia siesta the musicians picked up their instruments and the young people dept on dancing. The dancing didn't stop until the light of dawn approached.

In the spring of 1823 Bernardo married Maria de Jesus Dolores Alvarado, the sister of Raimunda's husband Juan Bautista. The marriage mass was held at the Mission San Gabriel Arcángel. Everyone from the rancho piled into carts to arrive at the Alvarado hacienda in Los Angeles for the wedding party. What a pleasure it was to enjoy the music and dancing as a guest of honor!

At the Mission San Gabriel I was pleased meet again my old friend Eulalia Perez. Through the years in San Diego Eulalia and I had tended each other at our birthing beds and at the funerals of our little lost angels. Padre Zalvidea invited her to live at the mission as the Llavera (keeper of the keys) and help teach the neofitos. She was kept very busy distributing daily rations of food to the indians and cloth for making women's dresses. She supervised making of men's clothing, soap, wine, and olive oil. She disbursed leather for making shoes, furniture, saddles, and riata. She was charged with watching over the unmarried young women who lived in the mission monjerío (cloister). Every night the doors were locked and the keys given to Eulalia, who then gave them to padres. Neofitos who received permission from the padre to marry lived at their rancherías with their wives and young children.

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Figure 50. Deppe, Ferdinand. Mission San Gabriel 1832. Santa Bárbara Archive-Library

I enjoyed my visits to San Gabriel with the boys when it was time to take the olives and grapes to the presses to make wine and olive oil. Occasionally Lalia would come with Father Zalvidea to the rancho on his many visits to the indian rancherías. He was always well received because he preached in the native language. He made sure that the mission indios had enough food and even planted fruit trees in the mountains so the wild Indians would have more to eat.

Antonio insisted that all of the children born on the Rancho be baptized at the Mission at San Juan Capistrano. But privately my loyalty lay with Pr. Boscano, my confessor at San Gabriel.

After the gente de razón came to the valley the indios adopted many decent habits. They learned to hide their nakedness. They are excellent vaqueros and sheep herders. Many of the women became proficient weavers. We tried to protect our indios from the dangers of unrepentant sin. It is whispered that, even thought Christianized, they still occasionally buried their dead in the traditional manner in secret burial grounds. We knew when they returned from an absence with hair shorn and black demeanor that they had performed a heathen burial. For their protection we kept our indios confined to the rancho. At the mission venereal diseases were common as was consumption and dysentery. The number of deaths was double that of births. Only the most trusted overseers were allowed to venture out alone to the missions on errands.

In the winter when the indios were not needed for planting and harvesting they would go up to the mountains and collect pine nuts, acorns, and foods that they were accustomed to from their life before we had brought the gift of civilization. They tell stories of those 109

before them but we don't know if they are recounting fantasy or real memories. The field workers often turn up strangely formed stone objects that even the indios have no familiarity with.

I had little use for their curious health practices. They believed that any illness could be cured by the sun and fire. They used sweat houses for enjoyment and for healing. Another of their barbarous customs was the practice of bloodletting by cutting the body with a sharp stone. They were convinced that a mixture of water with a great proportion of salt would purge illness from their bodies. They used a wide variety of herbs whose names we do not know for purgatives. One thing that I did learn from them was to use the bark of the oak to treat wounds. It's too bad that the healing knowledge of their elders was not preserved but their knowledge of roots and herbs was so intimately mixed with their devilish sorcery that one could not survive without the other.

The Yankee traders paid a good price for as many hides as we could send them. Although there were laws against selling to them, I was not going to turn down the few luxuries I could enjoy in my old age. The men traded with the foreign ships away from the harbors in the dark of night along our carelessly guarded coastline. In spite of the restrictions we managed to obtain imported tools, tableware, and fine cloth for the christenings and weddings that seemed to follow toe on heel. I wondered if the fine American ladies' shoes I coveted were made from leather from our own cattle. Eventually the indios learned to work fine leather so that we could produce our own saddles, shoes, hats, and belts instead of trading our hides for expensive foreign goods.

The decree from Governor Arrillaga making it unlawful to trade with foreign ships was largely ignored. The revolution taking place in Mexico against Spain entirely disrupted the activities of spanish trading ships. The colonists had to trade where they could when shipments from Mexico were so far between, excessively expensive, and with limited offerings. A portion of the hides and tallow were loaded onto carretas pulled by oxen and taken to the government depot at San Pedro. There the tariffs were paid to the government tax collector before being loaded onto sanctioned trading ships. A percentage of the hides and tallow were kept behind for those traders who were willing to ignore the regulations and pick up hides at an isolated location along the barren coast, thus evading the exorbitant taxes

Antonio was worried about the revolt against the Spanish Crown that was gaining ground in Mexico. He and his compañeros declared themselves loyal to our Rey Fernando VII of Spain. Although loathe to betray our king, Antonio was finally forced to submit to the new Republic of Mexico. The sad day came when he and the older sons were required to take an oath of loyalty to the new government of the Republic of Mexico. In 1822 when the Mexican flag was raised over Alta California the soldiers were ordered to cut off the long braid that they had worn proudly marking them as gente de razón. Antonio, no

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longer being subject to military discipline, refused to cut his gray braid that hung down past his waist, tied with a silk knot at the bottom. There was mourning in the homes of families whose fathers came home with that braid of honor in their hand. The overthrow of our consecrated king added weight to the many hurts that Antonio carried.

The year of 1824 brought another wound to my heart. My daughter Maria Andrea Ygnacio Yorba de Avila died in birthing her first child, only 16 years old and one year married. She had yet to know the joy of being a mother. Her husband José Maria Avila grieved over the loss of his beautiful young bride and mother of little José Maria Avila II. I went to Los Angeles to care for little José until a proper nursemaid could be found. I sorely wanted to bring him home with me to the rancho but his father would not allow it.

Antonio had endured years of torment from the scurvy and exhaustion during his years in the military. The limp that he had when I met him 49 years before had progressed to the point that he had not been able to mount a horse for a year. Only a few teeth remained in his jaw. He was ready to pass to the arms of our Blessed Mother after enduring 78 years on this earth. I sat at his side for days as children and grandchildren, compadres and servants, came to pay their respects. He died at the rancho on January 16, 1825. According to the terms of his will he was buried at Mission San Juan Capistrano wearing the garb of a Franciscan monk. The night before the funeral I lay sleepless in my room at the mission waiting to hear the years of Antonio's life counted out by las matracas, the wooden clappers that were usually reserved for the mourning of holy week. They struck once for every year of his life. It seemed to go on endlessly.

Figure 51. Grave marker at Mission San Juan Capistrano.

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At the time of Antonio's death we had 4 surviving sons and 3 daughters. Two grandchildren survived two of our two deceased daughters. You can understand my dismay when his will was read: "the heirs at law shall be my wife and the four sons, assigning to each according to my wish". It was said that his intent was to exclude his daughters. I was furious when I learned that he had broken his promise that our daughters should share equally in their birthright. I had given my life as a dutiful mother, wife, and daughter - following my father and then my husband from post to post without question! I gave all I had to protect mis hijos. After rebuilding a life for my family over and over again, I wished a different fate for my daughters. I was determined that they be provided for beyond the abilities or whims of a husband. [Doc. I - Will of José Antonio Yorba]

From "Saddleback Ancestors - Rancho Families of Orange County, California": "Following his [Antonio's] death Doña Josefa promptly appealed to the courts to break the will and succeeded in having the inheritance equally divided." A "Table of Descendents" document attached to the 1866 Stearns v. Cota land partition lawsuit read "It has been said that he [Antonio] willed this ranch to his four sons; José Antonio II, Tomás, Bernardo and Teodocio, but that the widow broke the will to make it include the five daughters; Presentacion, Andrea, Raymunda, Francisca and Isabel."

Author's note: I have not been able to find any evidence of an appeal to a court by Josefa. There was in fact an equal sharing of the inheritance by sons, daughters, and children of deceased daughters as evidenced by later land divisions. The lands of the rancho were held in common by heirs until the 1866 partition that resulted from the Stearns v. Cota litigation. The only evidence I found for an appeal to the terms of Antonio's will is a series of letters discussing the inheritance (Documents I, J). The Yorbas and the widowers of the deceased daughters were well-connected members of the ruling class and had the Governor's ear in achieving their objectives.

I never wished to undermine the authority of the men to whom God has given dominion on this earth. I begged my sons to follow traditional law and share the interest in the Rancho Santiago with their sisters as legal heirs of my father Juan Pablo Grijalva, to whom the land was lawfully granted. My father designated his grandchildren as beneficiaries of his estate. I was determined that his intention should be carried out. Bernardo consented to support me in this righteous cause. I also had the support of Don Francisco Ortega and Don José María Avila (Alcalde of Los Angeles), the widowers of Francisca and Andrea.

Ortega and Avila appealed to Gov. Argüello to guarantee the inheritance due to the children of their deceased wives. Gov. Argüello then asked Don Francisco Maria Ruiz, Comandante of the San Diego Presidio, to sort out the distribution of the inheritance based on information received from Ortega and Avila. [Doc. J - (2 letters) Argüello to Ruiz c. Aug. and October 1825] 112

Figure 52. Penelon, Henri. Bernardo Antonio Yorba (1801 - 1858) Son of Ma. Josefa and José Antonio Yorba. Bowers Museum. Santa Ana, CA

I was advised by Capt. Ruiz of San Diego that he was in possession of documents that indicate that the lands of the Rancho Santiago de Santa Ana may legally be required to be shared by all of his heirs, including the daughters. He has sent these documents with Francisco Ortega to Capt. de la Guerra y Noriega in Santa Barbara for a decision.

According to Ruiz, Bernardo, on behalf of himself and his mother Maria Josefa Grijalva de Yorba, had presented evidence to Capt. de la Guerra of the rights of Ortega to inherit on behalf of his deceased wife. Capt. Ruiz asked the Governor for a final resolution to the matter after having advised the Governor that Capt. de la Guerra approved the petition by the widower Ortega. [Doc. K - Ruiz to Argüello, Dec. 5, 1825]

I prayed that the matter would be settled without dissension in the family. And so it is, thanks to Bernardo, Cdte. Ruiz, Don Francisco Ortega, and Don Avila. My daughters, living and deceased, are now guaranteed of an equal share with their brothers in ownership of the rancho. The Peraltas who have taken care of Mother all of these years will receive their fair share. Con el favor del Dios and the intercession of the good men of the family that my daughters have received a birthright that will stand their families in good stead for generations to come.

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Dicen "una viuda rica llora con un ojo y se rie con el otro" (A rich wido cries out of one eye and laughs out of the other). I am not rich but I confess a surprising degree of satisfaction in these last few years. I have no care for myself - only that my children should be provided for. As long as the women of the family and their children are nurtured by this land, the family will thrive.

I know tongues will wag when they discover that I have asked to be buried at Mission San Gabriel alongside my daughter Andrea. As a vieja of 63 years, I have learned to heed my own counsel before that of others. Promise me that I will be buried in the churchyard at Mission San Gabriel Arcángel where I have always found sustenance in my faith in the things of this world and of the next. I will not lie for all eternity beside the man who betrayed my trust.

Maria Josefa Grijalva died at the Rancho the day before her 64th birthday on January 3, 1830. She was buried at Mission San Gabriel. [Doc. L - San Gabriel Mission records]

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APPENDIX

READING LIST PIMERÍA ALTA

Archives of the Diocese of Tucson. Guevavi, Tubac y Otros, fragmentary baptismal, marriage and burial records 1737-1767.

Moorhead, Max L. The Soldado de Cuera: Stalwart of the Spanish Borderlands". Journal of the West, 8:1 (January, 1969).

National Park Service, Mission 2000 Database. http://www.nps.gov/tuma/historyculture/mission- 2000.htm

National Park Service, Tumacácori National Historical Park. http://www.nps.gov/tuma/index.htm

Sanchez, Joseph Patrick. Spanish Bluecoats; the Catalonian Volunteers in NW New Spain 1767- 1810. University of New Mexico Press. 1990.

Stoffle, Richard W., et al. Analyzing 18th Century Lifeways of Anza Expedition Members in Northwestern Sinaloa & Southwestern Sonora Mexico. National Park Service. University of Arizona Bureau of Applied Research in Anthropology. 2011.

THE TRAIL

Anza, Juan Bautista de. Diary of Juan Bautista de Anza October 23, 1775 - June 1, 1776. http://anza.uoregon.edu/anza76.html

Anza Trail Foundation. Explore the Anza Trail. http://www.anzahistorictrail.org/

Font, Pedro. Diary of Pedro Font September 28, 1775 - June 2, 1776. http://anza.uoregon.edu/font76.html

Guerrero, Vladimir. The Anza Trail and the Settling of California. Berkeley, California: Heyday Books. 2006

Gough, Peter L. Women on the Anza Expedition. Las Vegas Noticias, Number 46 - October 2010. University of Nevada,

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ALTA CALIFORNIA

Bancroft, Herbert H., History of California 1530 - 1890 Vols I - VII, The Works of Hubert H. Bancroft. San Francisco. 1889

Beebe, Rose Marie & Robert Senkewicz. Testimonios: Early CA from the Eyes of Women, 1815- 1848. Heyday Books, University of California Berkeley. 2006.

Bolton, Herbert Eugene. Anza’s California Expeditions. Berkeley: The University of California Press. 1930.

Bouvier, Virginia Marie. Women and the Conquest of California, 1542-1840. Tucson: The University of Arizona Press, 2001.

Fages, Pedro. A historical Political and Natural Description of California. Translated by Herbert I. Priestley. Ballena Press. 1972

Font, Pedro. Font's complete diary : a chronicle of the founding of San Francisco. Translated from the original Spanish manuscript and edited by Herbert Eugene Bolton.

LaPerouse, Jean-Francois de. Life in a California mission: the journals of Jean-Francois de La Perouse.

Mason, William M. Adobe Interios in Spanish California. Santa Barbara Mission Archive-Library. 1988.

Palou, Francisco. Historical Memoirs of New California, Volumes 1,2,3, Translated by Herbert E. Bolton.

Serra to Bucareli, Mexico City, 24 Aug. 1775 in Tibesar, the Writings of Junipero Serra, vol. 2, 149. (Yorba spelled as 'Torba').

Smith, Donald E. and Frederick J. Teggart, Eds. Diary of Gaspar de Portola during the California Expedition of 1769-1770. University of California, Berkeley. 1911.

SAN FRANCISCO

Presidio Trust and the National Park Service. El Presidio de San Francisco: Spanish Colonial Documentation Translation Project. Manuscript. Golden Gate National Recreation Area, San Francisco. 2004

Chamisso, Adelberto von. A Voyage around the World with the Romanzov Exploring Expedition in the years 1815-1818. Honolulu. UH Press. 1986.

Eldredge, Zoeth Skinner. The March of Portolá and the Discovery of the Bay of San Francisco. The

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log of the San Carlos and original documents tr. and annotated, by E. J. Molera. San Francisco. The California Promotion Committee. 1909.

Langelier, John Phillip and Rosen, Daniel B. Historic Resource Study - El Presidio de San Francisco - A History under Spain and Mexico, 1776-1846. National Park Service. 1992.

Mahr, August Carl The Visit of the "Rurik" to San Francisco. Stanford University : Stanford University Press. 1932.

Milliken, Randall, Laurence Shoup, and Beverly R. Ortiz, Ohlone/Costanoan Indians of the San Francisco Peninsula and their Neighbors, Yesterday and Today. National Park Service. 2009.

Moraga, José Joaquin, Letter of March 20, 1777 to Viceroy Antonio Bucareli y Ursa. Published at Web De Anza, http://anza.uoregon.edu/moraga

Moraga, José. Reports, San Francisco, February 1, 1784, May 1, 1784, and July 1, 1784, Archives of California, Provincial State Papers, Sacramento, LIV, 38, 189, and 211-12.

Moraga, José Joaquín. Moraga's Account of the Founding of San Francisco. http://anza.uoregon.edu/moraga.html

Sal to Romeu, San Francisco, March 4, 1792. Provincial state papers, XI, 52. http://archive.org/details/168036075_79_8

Temple, Thomas Workman III (editor). Mission San Francisco de Asís (Dolores) California, Bautismos, Matrimonios, y Difuntos 1776-1850.

Voss, Barbara. Poor People in Silk shirts - Dress and ethnogenesis in Spanish-colonial San Francisco. Journal of Social Archaeology. Stanford University. 2008

SAN DIEGO

Lugo, Jose Carmen. Life of a Rancher. 1950 Historical Society of Southern California Quarterly, 1950 Vol. 32(3) pp. 185-236.

Wilbur, Marguerite Eyer, ed. Vancouver in California 1792-1794: The Original Account of George Vancouver vol. I (Los Angeles, Calif.: Glen Dawson, 1954.

State Papers Sacramento Series Vol. I, Military and Pollitical 1780 - 1821, i. p. 106 https://archive.org/stream/bancarchca_81_16#page/n106/mode/1up

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SANTIAGO DE SANTA ANA

Blair, Montgomery, 1813-1883. Survey of the Rancho Santiago De Santa Ana: Brief of Montgomery Blair for Bolsas Claimants. http://babel.hathitrust.org/cgi/pt?id=mdp.39015049641304;view=1up;seq=7

Boscana, Fr. Geronimo. CHINIGCHINICH - A Historical Account of the Origin Customs, and Traditions of the Indians at the Missionary Establishment of San Juan Capistrano, Alta California. Translated by Alfred Robinson. New York. 1846.

Dominguez, Arnold. José Antonio Yorba I. Orange County Historical Society. 1967.

Elliott, John F. and Brock, James, Historical and Archaeological Assessment of Old Santa Ana: The Packing House Site, Olive, Unincorporated Orange County. Silverado, CA: Elliott Research Associates, 1992.

Gibson, Wayne Dell. Olive, A Hundred Years of Yesterdays: A Centennial History of the People of Orange County and Their Communities, Cramer, Esther R.; Dixon, Keith A.; Marsh, Diann; Brigandi, Phil; Blamer, Clarice A., eds. Santa Ana, CA: The Orange County Register, 1988.

Gibson, Wayne Dell. Tomas Yorba's Santa Ana Viejo 1769 - 1847. Santa Ana College Foundation Press. 1976.

Gould, Janet Williams. Early California Collection. Corona Public Library Heritage Room.

Land Case 346 SD Santiago de Santa Ana (also called " Santiago," "Arroyo de Santa Ana ," "Parage Santiago," or " Santa Ana ") [Orange County]. Claimants: Bernardo, Teodoro and Ramón Yorba et al Microfilm Reel 346SD, BANC MSS Land Case Files 346 SD. Bancroft Library. University of California, Berkeley.

Orange County Geneological Society. Saddleback Ancestors - Rancho Families of Orange County California. 1969.

Stephenson, Terry. Don Bernardo Yorba. Los Angeles. 1941

UCI, Works Progress Administration Collection on Orange County, California, Collection number: MS-R010. Date (inclusive): 1935-1939. University of California, Irvine.

Yorba, Alfonso. Santa Ana Abajo, Old Adobe Pueblo at Orange, Now Entirely Vanished. Santa Ana Journal, May 15, 1936 http://www.orangecountyhistory.org/history/yorba-orange-pueblo.html

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LIST OF YORBA GRIJALVA CHILDREN

Children of Maria Gracia Felíz and José Antonio Yorba (all died with no known descendants)

Pedro Antonio Yorba (1774 - 1780) (bap. 2/4/1774 - bur. 12/4/1780 (age 5) M. San Carlos Borromeo Francisco Xavier Yorba (1776 -1792) (drowned age 16) baptized 11/10/1776 M. San Carlos Borromeo, buried Mission San Miguel, Baja California Diego Maria Yorba (1780 - 1806) (age 26) baptized 11/14/1780 at M. San Carlos de Mont Rey, buried 2/28/1806 M. San Diego

Children of Ma. Josefa Grijalva and José Antonio Yorba

José Antonio de los Remedios Yorba (1785 - 1844) (age 59) http://missions.huntington.org/BaptismalData.aspx?ID=25419 baptized 1/23/1785 M. San Carlos Borromeo - bur. 1/20/1844 M. San Gabriel married Maria Antonia Verdugo 9/12/1805 at M. San Gabriel married Maria Catalina Verdugo 2/10/1834 at M. San Juan Capistrano

Tomás Antonio Yorba (1787 – 1845) (age 58) baptized 12/22/1787 M. San Carlos Borromeo - buried 2/1/1845 M. San Gabriel http://missions.huntington.org/BaptismalData.aspx?ID=25664 married Maria Vicenta Sepulveda Sept. 1834 at M. San Gabriel

Ysabel Maria (1789 - 1871) (age 84) born 11/19/1789 San Diego, godfather: Juan Pablo Grijalva May 26, 1805 married to Don José Joaquin Maitorena (died 1830) Church of the Royal Presidio of San Diego died ______, 1871

Maria de la Presentacion y Cecilia (1791 – 1835) (age 44) Baptized 11/20/1791 San Diego godparents: Sgt. Raymundo Carrillo & Tomasa Carrillo y Lugo married José Leandro Serrano 5/26/1805 San Diego

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Maria Raimunda Fermina Nepomucena (1793 - 1851) (age 57) baptized 7/1/1793 M. San Diego - buried 2/4/1851 M. San Diego godparents: JP Grijalva & Maria Dolores Grijalva y Valencia married Juan Bautista Alvarado 9/19/1809 San Diego Presidio

José Domingo Yorba (24 May 1795 - 1796)* (age 15 mo.) baptized 5/27/1795 - buried 8/24/1796 M. San Diego godparents: Manuel Nieto & Maria Guadalupe Briones

Francisca y Dominga (1797 - 1814)* (17 yr.) baptized 3/12/1797 M. San Diego - buried 4/9/1814 M.Santa Barbara godmother Maria Dolores Valencia y Grijalva married Francisco Ortega 4/22/1811 M. San Diego (age 14) children: Francisco Manuel b. 3/31/1814 (she died 10 days later)

Maria De Las Nieves (8/4/1798 - 1798)* (3 days) baptized 8/7/1798 - buried 8/7/1798 San Diego - San Diego godfather: Antonio Gajera, comandante of presidio

Bernardo (Fernando) Antonio (1801 - 1858) (57 yr) baptized 8/4/1801 M. San Diego – buried 11/20/1858 Yorba Cemetery godfather Juan Peralta bachelor San Pedro Regalado) married Felipa Dominquez (1833 - 1851) (18 yr) married Maria Jesus Dolores Alvarado (1796 - 1828) (32yr) married Maria Andrea Elisalde Davila (1830 - 1909) (79 yr)

Juan Pablo (10/23/1803 – 1804) (1 yr.) San Diego godparents: JP Grijalva & Maria Gorgonia

Teodosio Juan (5/31/1805-1863) (58 yr) San Diego - San Gabriel Godparents: JP Peralta and Anna Gertrudis Arce

Maria Andrea Ygnacio (11/30/1807- 1/22/1824) (17 yr.) baptized 12/3/1807 M. San Diego - buried 1/24/1824 M. San Gabriel godparents: Raymundo Carrillo and Tomasa Lugo married José Maria Avila 1/23/1823 M. San Juan Capistrano son José Maria Avila born 1/22/1824

Martin Yorba (11/15/1810-1812) (2 yr.) San Diego - San Diego godparents: Pedro Ramos (boatswain of 'Princesa') and Francisca Yorba (sister)

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DOCUMENTS

Document A - Aug. 24, 1775 Serra to Bucareli...... 122 Document B - Grijalva Retirement Letter ...... 125 Document C - Grijalva request for grant of "Arroyo de Santiago" ...... 126 Document D. - Will of Juan Pablo Grijalva ...... 128 Document E. - Petition of Antonio Yorba to Arrillaga ...... 129 Document F. - Report of Lieut. Francisco Maria Ruiz to Arrillaga ...... 130 Document G. - 1810 Request by Antonio Yorba for Paraje de Santiago and Decree by Gov. Arrillaga ...... 131 Document H. Letters: Yorba - Argüello, 1814 - 1815 ...... 133 Document I. - Will of José Antonio Yorba ...... 135 Document J. - 2 letters Argüello to Ruiz 1825 ...... 138 Document K. - Ruiz to Argüello Dec. 5, 1825 ...... 140 Document L. Transcript of Mission San Gabriel records dated Dec. 17, 1922 ...... 142

121

Document A - Aug. 24, 1775 Serra to Bucareli [Author's note: Torba is misspelling of Yorba]

122

123

Tibesar, Antonine, Ed. Writings of Junípero Serra, Vol. 2. Academy of American Franciscan History. Washington D.C. 1955.

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Document B - Grijalva Retirement Letter

State Papers Sacramento Series Vol. I, Military and Pollitical 1780 - 1821, i. p. 106 https://archive.org/stream/bancarchca_81_16#page/n106/mode/1up

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translation: 1796 March 1st San Diego Juan Pablo Grijalva, Alferez de la Compania to the Viceroy - requesting his retirement.

I declare that I have completed 33 years of service, at the Presidio of Terrenate (Sonora) and in the Presidios of San Francisco and San Diego in California - that in the 1st of those presidios I carried out 9 campaigns against the Apaches and Seris (in which I was wounded twice), and 11 occasions in California I have carried out 10 forays, with two that I initiated, "of those eight as commander to punish treacherous indians, and in searching for fugitives". I am 51 Years of age and my strength has diminished, and I cannot continue to lend my services with the vigor of the past, and that you "can provide sustenance and rest before all powers have been lost", I entreat you to permit me to stay at the Presidio of San Diego. (In the margin can be seen the initials of Gov. Diego de Borica) Esteemed Señor - it is evident to me how many have expressed interest in this request, waiting to be released from salary because of the impossibility of carrying out the functions of employment, and the zeal, the precision and bravery with which he has always managed, I consider him deserving that which is granted a retiree with the rank of Alferez with the grade of Lieutenant. S. E. would serve to determine the best. Monterrey ___ of May, 1796. Esteemed Señor Diego de Borica." pp. 480

Document C - Grijalva request for grant of "Arroyo de Santiago" and Rogriguez Response "San Diego, December 8, 1801 Commandante Don Manuel Rodriquez:

Don Pablo Grijalva, retired Ensign of Cavalry, and resident of this Royal Garrison of San Diego presents himself before you soliciting the tract of "Arroyo de Santiago" for the purpose of keeping my cattle and horses

"The distance I ask is from the banks of the Santa Ana River toward Santiago, that portion which is along the high road embracing an extension of a little more than a league. The stream being above, from the highway to the house will be about a league and a half; from there to the mountains about three leagues; and toward the sought I ask as far as Ranas (Cerritos de las Ranas) which will be about a league and a half, a grace which I hope to receive.

Your obedient servant who kisses your hand, JUAN PABLO GRIJALVA"

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REPORT OF CDTE. RODRIGUEZ:

In consideration of the repeated petitions which through me the promoted lieutenant Don Pablo Grijalva has addressed to you, soliciting for a place whereon to put his cattle, build a house and corral, and in consideration of the power which the benevolence of your Excellency has deigned to confer upon me of decreeing upon said petitions, I have pointed out to him the (sitio) place "del Arroyo de Santiago," (sitio) place in the contiguous bounds of the Missions of San Juan Capistrano and San Gabriel, the distance from the one to the other being estimated at 18 leagues, it is therefore the distance of nine leagues from the mentioned place to each of said Missions.

There is not within a great distance of the place of Santiago any "Ranchería" whatever of natives, wherefore I deem that instead of doing injury to said place he will be useful, and that neither of the mentioned Missions claim a right to it in conformity to the laws which assign to the Missions or villages of Christian Indians two leagues in their environs.

Should the benevolence of your Excellency approve of my decision, considering the justice which should attend Grijalva in having conceded to him a place wherein he might place the great number of cattle which he has in the immediate neighborhood of the rancho of Manuel Nieto, for the reason that there has been some etiquette between the two, and for that which he has also had in the immediate neighborhood of this Presidio, to the injury of the pasture grounds for the horses of the service, I hope that you will deign order the issuing to him of the corresponding title of possession of the place "del Arroyo de Santiago," with the distances on the north as far as the Sierra range of mountains; on the east as far as the beach, its cross-roads with the plains of the River of Santa Ana, which is distant from the "Arroyo de Santiago" a little less than a league and a half; and on the south as far as the place called "de las Ranas," which is also distant about another league and a half, or that you will decide that which your superior Excellency will deem proper.

May God preserve your Excellency many years. San Diego, 11th September, 1801 (Signed) MANUEL RODRIGUEZ To Sr. Governor, Don Joseph Joaquin de Arrillaga [Endorsed:]

Exhibit C. [Petition of Grijalba] No. 470. Heirs and legal representatives of Yorba and Peralta. Santiago. Report about Grijalva's petition. Translation filed in office Dec. 17th, 1853. Geo. Fisher, Secy. Record of Evidence, vol. 19, page 181.

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Document D. - Will of Juan Pablo Grijalva

Provincial State Papers, Tomo XIX, 1805 - 1815, p. 132

128

Translation:

1806 June 21, San Diego Pablo Grijalva - His Testament

Executed by Alfarez with rank of Second Lieutenant, Pablo Grijalva, on his behalf, before the Commander Manuel Rodriguez and witnesses Ignacio Martinez, Felipe Romero, Luciano Valdez, José Antonio Yorba and Maria Dolores Valencia.

He bequeaths all of his worldly possessions to his wife and grandchildren, and José Antonio Yorba and Juan Pablo Peralta. He leaves nothing to his daughters, Maria Josefa and Maria del Carmen, married, because at the time of their marriages he gave them their dowry as requested. pp. 341_5

1806 July 26, San Diego Rodriguez to Arrillaga - death of an official This is to inform of the death of Alfarez Y Teniente graduado Pablo Grijalva, and explain the principle clauses of his will - that he did not want to declare his jewelry and money, that he had refused to leave anything to his daughters In spite of having made it known that he would not put them at risk. pp 346_8

Document E. - Petition of Antonio Yorba to Arrillaga

"Señor Governor, Antonio Yorba, retired sergeant of the Presidial Company of San Diego appears before your Excellency with the greatest submission and represents that while your Excellency was Governor ad interim of Lower California the deceased Ensign Don Pablo Grijalva through Don Manuel Rodriguez presented a petition soliciting the place called "Santiago", for the purpose of building a house thereon in company with your petitioner, and uniting our animals, and cultivating it, both of us for the common enjoyment of all the above mentioned benefits which the said place may afford. I am aware and understand that the deceased has not mentioned me in the said petition but nevertheless inasmuch as I had so agreed to the contract of co-partnership with the said deceased, we have continued together until the present.

In consequence of the death of the deceased Ensign various persons have been placed in charge of the Place and now I and Juan Peralta have jointly agreed to settle the said

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place called Santiago. I for my part placing thereon one of my sons, both being married, for the purpose of taking care of the number of three hundred head of cattle, the corresponding number of horses which is the stock that will now be upon the said tract of land, besides the seed we contemplate sowing for our maintenance.

In view of all the foregoing, reminding the goodness of your Excellency that I have a large family - my continued personal labor unobstructed by my advanced Sexagenarian age, are not to me sufficient to support.

Wherefore I pray and supplicate your Excellency, be pleased to issue the Grant of the said place of "Santiago" in favor of your petitioner, in order that in company with the said Juan Peralta his labors may prove favorable and profitable to both petitioners, a benefit and favor for which he will be grateful and obliged to you. Santa Barbara, November 24, 1809 At the request of my father (signed) Tomás Yorba DECREE Monterrey, March 26, 1810. Let it be referred to Lieutenant Don Francisco Maria Ruiz to report whatever he may know and understand in relation to the annexed petition and the inconveniences that may result. (signed) Arrillaga Source: Exhibit. U. S. Land Commission Case No. 470. Heirs and legal representatives of Yorba and Peralta. Santiago. Translation filed in office Dec. 17th, 1853. Geo. Fisher, Secy. Record of Evidence, vol. 19, page 181. . Document F. - Report of Lieut. Francisco Maria Ruiz to Arrillaga

San Diego, 20th April, 1810 In obedience to the foregoing superior decree I inform his Excellency the Governor that I have examined the Archives of the Presidio and have not found the document presented to the government by the deceased Ensign Don Pablo Grijalva for the occupation of Santiago with his stock. Citizen Juan Peralta not being here and Doña Dolores Valencia, widow of the said deceased being the principal person, I commanded her to appear before me to ascertain whether she retained in her possession the said document, and to declare to me the circumstances of its execution to which she answered that she understood from Capt. Don Raymundo Carillo deceased, that he had it in his possession, that he did not deliver it to her. That she heard her deceased husband say that he had presented it in his own name alone and notwithstanding this she says she is willing that Antonio Yorba the retired Sergeant remain upon the said Rancho in company with his children and of her grandson Juan Pablo Peralta, in order that all of them in company may take care of their stock and cultivate the lands they may sow for the support of their large families. And I am of the

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opinion that it should be so, if it should meet your superior approbation, being pleased to grant him your superior permission in case there is no objection. (signed) Francisco Maria Ruiz

Source: Exhibit. U. S. Land Commission Case No. 470. Heirs and legal representatives of Yorba and Peralta. Santiago. Translation filed in office Dec. 17th, 1853. Geo. Fisher, Secy. Record of Evidence, vol. 19, page 181.

Document G. - 1810 Request by Antonio Yorba for Paraje de Santiago and Decree by Gov. Arrillaga

Register of Brands and Marks (1828 - 34) Savage https://archive.org/stream/bancarchca_82_04#page/n106/mode/1up

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Translation:

1810 July 1, Monterrey Gov. Arrillaga Paraje de Santiago

Antonio Yorva, by way of his son Tomás, from Santa Barbara 24 November 1809, declared to Gov. Arrillaga, that he was a retired Sergeant of the Presidial Compania of San Diego: that he and Juan Peralta had agreed to have their cattle at the camp and had planted some crops, asks that the Governor concede to them that camp. In view of a favorable report from Lieutenant Francisco María Ruiz, Commander of the Presidio, today the Governor decreed his approval in these previous requests.

DECREE OF THE GOVERNOR Monterrey, July 1st, 1810. On my part there is no objection to granting to the petitioner the place which he solicits, and upon the terms which he proposed, for which purpose, the Commander of the Presidio of San Diego will take the proper proceedings, ascertaining whether or not it will result to the injury of the colonists and there being none he will put him in possession thereof. (signed) Arrellaga

A true and correct translation witness my hand this 26th Oct. A.D. 1853. Geo. Fisher, Sec'y. Filed in the Office Oct. 26", 1853. Geo. Fisher, Sec'y.

Source: Exhibit. U. S. Land Commission Case No. 470. Heirs and legal representatives of Yorba and Peralta. Santiago. Translation filed in office Dec. 17th, 1853. Geo. Fisher, Secy.

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Document H. Letters: Yorba - Argüello, 1814 - 1815

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Document I. - Will of José Antonio Yorba

Hail Jesus, Mary, and Joseph! In the name of Almighty God and His holy Mother, the Virgin Mary, conceived in grace without original sin, be it known and made notorious by this, my last written will and testament, how I, Antonio Yorba, retired sergeant of the Presidio of San Diego, native of the Principality of Catalonia of Old Spain, in the village of San Saturnino, and a resident of this, my rancho of Santa Ana, of the married state, with the full use of my judgment, memory and understanding, and, as such, considering that man has to die, and this case may come to pass any moment, and will come without knowing when, and as an Apostolic Roman Catholic Christian that I am, through the Merits of our Lord Jesus Christ, I believe firmly in the Mystery of the Blessed Trinity - Father, Son, and Holy Ghost - three distinct persons and one only true God, and in all that our Holy mother, the Apostolic Roman Catholic Church believes and confesses, the Holy Mary being my intercessor and mediator, as well as with the intercession of my patrons and mediators, the Archangel Saint Michael, Saint Anthony of Padua, and the Patriarch Saint Francis, I order and make my testament in the following form: First Item - I commend my soul to God who created it and by the merits of the precious blood of our Lord Jesus Christ, who redeemed it - I beg and ask a general pardon of our Lord Jesus Christ for the offenses that I have committed against Him, in order that when it leaves this miserable body it may go to praise Him with the blessed in Heaven; and it is my will that my body be given up to the earth from which it came, remaining in deposit for the day of judgment, and that it be shrouded in the holy habit of the sacred religion of the Seraphic Patriarch Saint Francis and be buried in the Church of the Mission San Juan Capistrano, under the baptismal font, that in this way I may be trod upon by every one. Second Item - It is my will that a High Mass of Requiem be sung with its responses (confore presenti) and wherefore I assign the amount of sixty dollars as alms to the Mission San Juan Capistrano, so that out of this sum, after paying funeral expenses, burial, habit, high Mass and responses - of whatever is left there may be celebrated for my benefit low masses and whatever my executors may order at my burial. Third Item - I leave alms to the amount of twenty dollars to the Mission of San Luis Rey for twenty low masses, and twenty dollars more to the Mission of San Diego for twenty masses, so that in all - funeral, burial, and masses for the good of my soul - will amount to one hundred dollars; which sum of one hundred dollars I desire and it is my wish that they be paid in cash to the mentioned missions. Fourth Item - It is my will that there be celebrated to me the anniversary of my death every year, having high mass and response, for which purpose I assign the amount of eight dollars which will be paid annually by my heirs in equal proportions at the Mission San Juan Capistrano. Fifth Item - I order that there be given as alms ten dollars for the Holy places of Jerusalem. Sixth Item - I desire and order that there be given to the orphan, Maria Catarina

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Verdugo, twenty large cows, her saddle and the horse which she rides, for the services which she has rendered me, for which I am thankful. Seventh Item - I declare not to have any debts whatever with any person, but if after my death there should result some debt, be it of the nature that it may, it is my will that my executors investigate as to the genuineness of the same, and in case it results to be true and effective, the same shall be paid to whom it is owing. Eighth Item - I name as my executors the retired corporal José Maria Berdugo and Bernardo Yorba, my son, and it is my will that these as such, administer my testament to whom and each one, in solidum, I give the power and authority that may be required for them to dispose of my property in the manner they may deem most proper, collect and give receipts in full, and releases, pay my legacies and bequests of this my will, the fees of the church, suffrages, funeral expenses and burial, complying in every particular with my last will, for which I beg them to exonerate my conscience, at the same time that I remind them of theirs, and everything that they may do in virtue thereof shall be valid and secure as if I would do it or execute the same. Ninth Item - I bequeath to my executors the sum of five dollars each for the trouble they will have in administering my estate, and in case one acts, it is my will that he be paid the five dollars and the other shall be considered as not included in the legacy. Tenth Item - I declare that I was married according to the requirements of our Holy Mother the Church, to Doña Maria Josefa Grijalva, legitimate daughter of the deceased Don Pablo Grijalva, a promoted lieutenant of the Presidio of San Diego, from which marriage we begot thirteen children, seven boys and six girls, there being of these now living, José Antonio, Tomás Antonio, Bernardo, Teodosio, Doña Ysabel, Maria Presentación, and Raimunda. Eleventh Item - It is my wish that after paying all that I have ordered in this my testament, of the remainder of my estate, rights, and claims, that may belong to me, the heirs at law shall be my wife and the four sons, assigning to each according to my wish. Twelfth Item - I declare that my own property is composed of one house situated in the outskirts of the Presidio of San Diego and the one of my residence on the rancho where I live, together with all the furniture, utensils, jewelry and house implements and working tools, with orchard and vineyard. Thirteenth Item - I declare that I have on the rancho about eight hundred head of large neat cattle, sixteen yokes of tame oxen, about two hundred and fifty head of sheep, nineteen pack mules with their respective pack saddles with complete outfit, with a lot of leather bags for each. Fourteenth Item - I declare that there is owing to me the salary since my discharge for about thirteen years from the Presidio of San Diego, and also the amounts due me at the said Presidio for provisions that I have delivered to it. Fifteenth Item - I declare that I leave to my wife the two houses above mentioned during her life time, and she may at the time of her death dispose of the one that is at the Presidio, leaving it to the son or daughter that she may choose; but the one on the rancho shall be for the four heirs, although she may dispose as she pleases of the utensils, jewelry, bed, 136

tables, and everything else belonging to the inside of the house, without being opposed or molested by anyone. Seventeenth Item - I declare that of the vineyard there shall be made a division among my heirs in the following manner (as is shown by its four divisions): at the entrance of the gate to the left, in a southerly course, it is for my wife with the trees that appertain to that portion of land; the second part of the same direction is for my son Tomás, the third portion to the right toward the north, is for my son José Antonio, and the fourth, in the same direction is for Bernardo and Teodosio in equal parts. Eighteenth Item - Of the cattle and sheep and yokes of oxen, it is my will that three parts be made, and one-third is for my wife and the remaining two-thirds to be distributed among all my children, boys and girls; of the pack mules it is my desire that five with complete outfit be delivered to my wife, and the remaining ones be distributed among my sons. Nineteenth Item - I declare that of the salary and the amounts due to me at the Presidio of San Diego and of all that is owing to me there be made three equal parts, one for my wife and the remaining two for all my sons and daughters in equal portions. Twentieth Item - It is my will that only this last will and testament be held as valid, by which I hereby revoke and annul all those I may have heretofore made in any manner whatsoever, whether they be verbal or in writing, so that they may not be valid at any time, nor have force nor effect, either in whole or in part. Twenty-first Item - It is my will that this be my last disposition and testament, and the faith which it deserves be given to it, in order that it may be valid in the most proper form of law, and that it may not lack that force and stability that some clause that is wanting might give it, in that faith and belief so desire it, and thus I have executed this instrument, as it is set forth, and on account of not knowing how to write, I make the sign of the cross. X Antonio Yorba In the Mission of San Juan Capistrano, on the 24th day of July, 1824. 1st Witness: José Ma. Verdugo; 2nd Witness: José Alvarez; 3rd Witness: Juan Maria Osuna.

Note - Of the horses which I have on my ranch it is my will that the same be distributed among my sons by equal shares.

San Diego, 23rd of January, 1825. On the sixteenth inst., the retired Sergeant Antonio Yorba died at his Rancho of Santa Ana at midnight. He was buried in the Mission of San Juan Capistrano; and in testimony thereof I sign this. Francisco Maria Ruiz.

I certify that what the Captain of San Diego says is true. Pueblo of Los Angeles, 22nd April, 1825. José Maria Avila.

Source: Exhibit. U. S. Land Commission Case No. 470. Heirs and legal representatives of Yorba and Peralta. Santiago. Translation filed in office Dec. 17th, 1853. Geo. Fisher, Secy.

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Document J. - 2 letters Argüello to Ruiz 1825

Departmental Records, 1822-1845, Tomo I, p. 263 http://archive.org/details/168036065_81_8_regular translation: Without date nor place [c. Aug. 1825] Argüello to Ruiz

The knowledge of the last will of the deceased retired sergeant Antonio Yorba, to whom this applies because of his being in your Company and residing in your jurisdiction and not in that of the Comandante of the Presidio of Santa Barbara, nor to the Alcalde of the Pueblo; as I told Capt. Don José [de la Guerra y] Noriega, because of having sent me some documents which I will forward to you in which the fathers of two grandchildren of the deceased request their portion of the inheritance which will affect his two deceased daughters, their wives, and in the meantime this matter is not deemed to be resolved in any way more than a general inventory without any division. p. 193

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Departmental Records, 1822-1845, Tomo I, p. 267/268

Translation: 1825 - Oct. 14 - Monterrey Argüello to Ruiz

I decree that that the citizens, Francisco Ortega and José Ma. Abila [Avila], having presented to you their memorial decrees, declared to me regarding the petition that they make on behalf of the inheritance that his daughters expect to have in the goods left by their grandfather, the deceased retired sergeant Antonio Yorba, and that you will have produced in accordance with the attained and order, [log] and I say to you in answer to your [letter] of last 20 Sept. p. 196

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Document K. - Ruiz to Argüello Dec. 5, 1825

Departmental State Papers Tomo I, p. 69/70

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Translation: 1825 Diciembre 5 San Diego. Francisco Ma. Ruiz á Don Luís Antonio Argüello Regarding the death of Sgt. Antonio Yorva and completion of his Will

This is to let you know that as soon as the Sgt. died, the primary executor Jose Ma. Verdugo appeared with his testimony, which authorized him, as belonging to the Comandancia and jurisdiction of this Presidio, wanting the aforementioned executor to complete the referenced Will because of his advanced age, having asked Don Bernardo Yorba, son of the deceased, the division of his goods, because of differences with the Alcalde of Los Angeles; this happened because the referenced son Bernardo on his own, and in the name of his Mother, showed that Don Francisco Ortega, widower of Doña Francesca Yorva, having presented to the Comandante of Santa Barbara the inheritance that should have been had by his wife of the rancho de Santa Ana, and that the Comandante decided in favor of Ortega as heir of the deceased, having presented to you that he leaves this matter to your resolution.

pp. 262 to 268

[Francisca Dominga Yorba married Francisco Ortega April 22, 1811, she died April 9, 1814]

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Document L. Transcript of Mission San Gabriel records dated Dec. 17, 1922 Sherman Library, Corona del Mar, CA

Translation: On January 4, 1830 in the Cemetery of the Church of the Mission of San Gabriel Arcángel in a consecrated grave was buried the body of Doña Josefa Grijalva, widow of retired Sergeant Antonio Yorba , she died yesterday having received the Holy Sacraments of Extreme Unction, Confession, and Holy Communion, and for the record I sign, Fr. José Sánchez, Rev. J. M. Preciado, Pastor C. M. F.

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