Unraveling some Irvine bunk

James Irvine (1827–1886)

We get letters. And sometimes we get a pip...

Mr. S_____ writes, "James Irvine lied about owning the land outside of his ranch property. Irvine only had grazing rights from the Yorba family and James Irvine tried to burn down the court house to destroy the documents. The Irvine’s never owned a blade of grass even after R.Yorba died. It is still owned by the heirs of Bernardo Yorba. The grants and patents are still under the Yorba’s name to this day as other patents of land. "

...To which, I responded,...

Mr. S_____,

While at least one of your points is accurate, you missed the mark on a couple others.

In 1864, Flint Bixby & Co. (in which James Irvine was a partner) bought the Rancho San Joaquin which had originally been the rancho of Jose Sepulveda. Two years later, they also bought the Rancho Lomas de Santiago, northeast of the San Joaquin, from pioneer trapper and rancher William Wolfskill (who had acquired it from Teodocio Yorba). 

In 1868 Flint Bixby & Co. largely completed their spread by acquiring an adjacent strip of the Yorba family’s Rancho Santiago de Santa Ana. (All these deeds should be on file with the L.A. County Registrar-Recorder/Clerk in Norwalk.) The company then applied the old Rancho San Joaquin name cumulatively to all their adjoining land holdings. Only later would it become known as the Irvine Ranch.

Soon, Flint Bixby & Co. petitioned the court with a claim that the boundaries of the Lomas de Santiago had been misinterpreted. This argument, although mostly bunk, was aided by the vagueness of diseño maps and pre-American-Era property records, combined with the company's large budget for good lawyers. 

The diseño map of Rancho Lomas de Santiago, 1846. (California State Archives)

In any case, the company won their legal battle on this issue and suddenly the ranch included an additional 89 square miles. This new addition conveniently reached the Santa Ana River, thereby ensuring riparian rights. So you're right in thinking that Irvine and his partners laid claim to *some* land that they had no business laying claim to.

In 1876, James Irvine bought out his partners and took sole ownership of the ranch. 

There is no record of, news coverage about, or appearant motive for Irvine attempting "to burn down the court house." And considering how much people like to gossip about the rich and famous (whether or not the gossip is true) it's worth noting that no such stories have been passed down as part of Orange County lore. If you have a solid source for this claim it would indeed be news and we'd be interested to hear about it. 

All the best,

Chris

Historical Preservation, O.C., and the Neutras

I just came across my notes for a panel discussion I participated in on February 12, 2011 in conjunction with "The Amazing Neutras in Orange County" exhibit I helped Dion Neutra create at the Old Orange County Courthouse Museum. The point of the exhibit was to draw attention to the dwindling number of buildings designed by Richard and/or Dion Neutra in Orange County and particularly to shine a light on the deteriorating state of Richard Neutra’s “new” Courthouse – the Central Justice Center (1969) in Santa Ana. 

While the exhibit itself was (of necessity) low-budget, my fellow panelists were as impressive as they come. From left to right, in the photo above (courtesy Les Katow) are architect (and son of Richard Neutra) Dion Neutra, noted architectural historians Barbara Lamprecht and Alan Hess, me, and architectural designer Josh Gorrell. To say it was an honor to be asked to participate with such an impressive group is an understatement. I wish I had recorded all their comments that day, but alas, all I have are my own notes…

Good afternoon.

There are no better people in the world to talk to you about the Neutras’ architecture than the folks up here with me today. It would be foolish for me to take up time telling you things I've read in their respective books. But as a local historian, perhaps I can provide an Orange County perspective.

From Mission San Juan Capistrano forward, Orange County has a track record of great architecture. Our record of preserving it, however, is much spottier.

Historical preservation began here in the 1890s, when Charles Fletcher Lummis' Landmarks Club began trying to preserve the ruins of California missions, including Mission San Juan Capistrano. 

In 1910, Father St. John O'Sullivan was put in charge of the Mission, and he undertook a massive preservation and restoration project that would eventually be copied at the old Franciscan missions up and down the state. 

But with the exception of the missions, California's byword was "PROGRESS." And progress didn't always leave much room for preserving historic architecture.

The birth of the modern preservationist movement in Orange County was introduced, forcefully, by Adeline Cochems Walker, or Mrs. Weston Walker, as she preferred to be known. In 1974, Mrs. Walker gathered a number of like-minded locals and formed a group to save the beautiful Victorian Dr. Howe-Waffle House (just across the street from us now,) from being bulldozed for a parking lot. Already well-respected for her work in civic beautification, Mrs. Walker was a force to be reckoned with. Her well-crafted letters were polite and adamant, and somehow put the fear of God into elected officials.

Walker’s preservation group became the Santa Ana Historical Preservation Society. She and her strike team of preservationists changed the way (at least some) people thought about the destruction of old buildings. Even in her last years, she led the charge to save the very building [Old Orange County Courthouse] in which we’re now sitting. 

Mrs. Walker (center) and historian Jim Sleeper (left) at the dedication of the Old O.C. Courthouse as a State Historical Landmark, 1970.

Today, of course, preservation and restoration projects have taken place all over the county, historical districts are not uncommon, and a number of cities have even adopted tax incentive programs like the Mills Act to encourage preservation. 

But there's still an enormous amount of work to do here. Indeed, compared to most of the country, Southern California - and particularly in Orange County -- is still living in the preservation Dark Ages. Important historical structures are torn down every day without so much as a murmur of dissent.

Now let’s take it a step further, to modern architecture. 

If we have to work hard to educate the public about the need to preserve important older historic architecture, we have to work at least twice as hard to convince them that buildings built during their own lifetimes may have historical value. 

Some of Richard Neutra's work at Orange Coast College, Costa Mesa.

Our long-range goals should be to educate the public and civic leaders, and to strongly encourage local government to adopt preservation-friendly policies. Until we've got that support behind us, our short-term goals should be to choose our battles carefully - saving the best examples of each era and style of architecture as they become threatened.

In the case of the work of the Neutra Office, so little remains intact today that it behooves us to save all of it. 

Neutra's work started appearing here during what was Orange County's most important era: Our astonishing post-war boom. Our population went from 131,000 in 1940; to 219,000 in 1950; to 700,000 in 1960; to a whopping 1.5 million by 1970! We were building housing tracts, apartments, schools, shopping centers, malls and professional buildings at a shocking rate. 

The story of Richard Neutra's Santa Ana Courthouse is a perfect illustration of the times:

Since 1901, County government and the courts had all fit into about four buildings: The Old Courthouse we're sitting in now, the jail, the Courthouse Annex (the former St Anne's Inn), and the Hall of Records (added in the 1920s).

And although we saw the post-war boom coming, we wildly underestimated it.

The County began in the early 1950s with a plan for a new courthouse, just across the street from the original. By the time the plans were ready for approval, population growth had already outstripped those plans. They went back to the drawing board, only to find that growth had again overshot their expectations and yet another major revision and expansion was needed before the ink was dry on the revisions.

And so on, and so forth.

This process continued until finally a plan was hatched to create a towering courthouse that it would theoretically take generations for all its floors to be put into use. They would start by outfitting the lower floors first and gradually furnishing and utilizing each floor above -- one at a time -- as they were needed. This would continue until the whole building was full.

Orange County Central Justice Center, Santa Ana

To design that tower, they hired Richard J. Neutra who was assisted in his vision by the Santa Ana firm of Donald Ramberg and Robert Lowrey. Neutra’s courthouse featured golden louvers that moved throughout the day to block the glare of the California sun.

The empty floors filled more quickly than predicted, of course. But as local government funds dried up in the wake of Prop 13, each floor got progressively cheaper interiors. The building also fell victim to poor maintenance. New utility lines were simply tacked across the carefully designed ceilings and walls, signage went from integrated to haphazard, ceiling panels were not replaced as repairs were needed, and - infamously - the water features were not tended to. 

The water feature in back of the Courthouse was turned off almost immediately. And one night, when it had been raining heavily, the neglected front water feature sprang a leak and dumped water down into the basement where the judges kept their files. Today, that water feature is also dry.

I once told [noted architectural photographer] Julius Schulman, that a good friend of mine had written a history of the Old Orange County Courthouse, and that someday I may have to write a history of the "new" Neutra-designed County Courthouse. He said, "I have your opening line for you: 'It was a dark and stormy night!'"

Indeed, maintaining, preserving and -- when necessary -- restoring buildings of historic and architectural significance is heartaches and pitfalls. The preservationists of today and tomorrow have their work for cut out for them. But with intelligence, heart, and persistence, they can win their share of victories.

By the way,... If I ever do write that book, what do you think of the title, “50 Ways To Love Your Louvers.”

O.C. Q&A: Potpourri Edition

Q:  I've discovered historical plaques in the boonies left by a group called El Viaje de Portola. Who are they?

A:  This equestrian group, formed in 1963, raises money for restoration projects at Mission San Juan Capistrano. Members include big landowners, businessmen, politicos, and even some real cowboys. Their annual three-day, men-only, horseback camping trek follows the still-undeveloped portions of explorer Gaspar de Portola's 1769 path through Orange County. It's about a 30-mile round trip and they often dedicate historic markers along the route. I would crack wise about the fully stocked bar that follows them in a wagon, but I'm still hoping to get invited someday. 

Q:  Is my house historic because it sits on an old Mexican rancho?

A:  Not so much. It actually takes work to find a part of Orange County that isn’t on one of the nearly 20 local Mexican land grants made during the 1830s and ’40s. (Prior to that, land was just “on loan” to rancheros from Spain.)  To find out what rancho your property was part of, borrow the Thomas Brothers Road Atlas (a.k.a. Thomas Guide) out of grandpa’s Buick. You'll find the old rancho boundaries and names printed in red. (Or alternately, check my map, here.) Once you figure out which rancho you’re on, why not embrace the spirit of the land? Invite everyone over for a fandango, build a horno (mud oven) in your yard, or practice lassoing the neighbor’s Rottweiler. Olé! 

Q:  Did Orange County invent orange juice?

A:  No, but we were certainly involved in making it synonymous with breakfast across America. 

When the citrus industry ruled our local economy, the California Fruit Growers Exchange, a.k.a. Sunkist, marketed the regions’ citrus to the whole country. Among the seven charter members of this coalition of local packing house associations was the Orange County Fruit Exchange. 

In February 1916, Sunkist ran a full-page ad in the Saturday Evening Post launching the national "Drink an Orange" ad campaign. The campaign highlighted its health benefits, flavor, and its association to sunny, romantic California. Many of the ads included promotions for inexpensive orange juicers. In short order America went from being unfamiliar with orange juice to making it a daily breakfast staple. Orange County became wealthier in the process.

Q:  Why does Orange County have so many eucalyptus trees?

A:  These tall, odiferous, Australian immigrants arrived in vast numbers and thrived. The fast-growing eucalyptus first appeared in California during the Gold Rush. In 1895, state forester Abbot Kinney wrote a book extolling the tree’s commercial potential. He claimed, incorrectly, that eucalyptus wood was good for construction, railroad ties and cheap fuel, and that the tree’s oil cured a host of health problems. This, combined with a hardwood shortage, led to a flood of eucalyptus-growing get-rich-quick ventures across California in the early 1900s. One local example was El Toro pioneer Dwight Whiting, who planted 960 acres in eucalyptus, thereby putting the “forest” in today’s “Lake Forest.” 

By the mid-1910s, it was clear that eucalyptus weren’t commercially viable. But they added shade and beauty to a largely treeless region and made fine windbreaks for citrus groves. Many rows of old eucalyptus trees still mark the boundaries of former orange groves.

Remembering Downtown Huntington Beach

Councilmen kick-off demolition of old Downtown Huntington Beach, 1980s.

In the 1980s, Huntington Beach tore out most of its historic downtown, with dreams of turning it into the raucous tourist zone it is today. A few historical preservationists -- with historian Barbara K. Milkovich notable among them -- fought to save the city's historic buildings, to no avail. Visitors from elsewhere seem to like the end result, but local residents still resent having what was once the heart of their town torn away from them. 

A while ago, I stumbled across a little booklet produced in the 1980s by the city’s Public Information Office, entitled, It’s Our Town! Questions and Answers on Modernizing Downtown Huntington Beach. Those who know how things turned out may "enjoy" it. Excerpts follow...

Q:  [One of] the objectives of the [redevelopment] agency [is the] improvement of traffic circulation within the area… [and] making sure the general public has continued access to the beach and water areas for recreation.

A:  Some [property] owners who would like to sell out might prefer use of eminent domain since there are income tax and other financial advantages over just selling the property outright…

Q:  Doesn’t redevelopment mean bulldozing the area clear and then building all new hotels, houses, shops, etc.?

A:  Certainly not. Redevelopment is a means for cleaning up a blighted area, remodeling old, but structurally sound buildings, assembling land where lots are too small for modern construction projects and for financing improvements such as streets sewers and lighting.

Q:  Will the businesses now in the area be allowed to remain?

A: ...Those businesses which depend on a dying neighborhood are likely to be eliminated as the commercial section prospers.

Q:  How about the Golden Bear?

A:  The GB is an institution in Huntington Beach, a historical landmark according to the redevelopment environmental impact report. No one is proposing to eliminate a business which has done so much for the area…

Q:  Is the city going to build a 20-story hotel?

A:  The idea of a high-rise hotel was put forth by a consultant as one of the many possibilities. It does not appear to be an economically feasible project. Such a project is not envisioned by the council…

If you care about the direction of your community, your state, or your country, watch your elected officials like a hawk and vote accordingly. 

View up Main St. from the foot of the Huntington Beach Pier, circa 1932.

Waltsicle: The History of a Myth

The story goes that Walt Disney was cryogenically frozen in 1966, and that his hibernation chamber is hidden inside Disneyland, under either Pirates of the Caribbean, the Matterhorn, or Tomorrowland, awaiting the day when medical science can revive and cure him.

Actually, it’s well documented that Disney died of a heart attack brought on by advanced lung cancer on December 15, 1966, was cremated two days later -- per his wishes -- and was eventually interred in a marked plot near 33 Freedom Way, at Forest Lawn Glendale. The gravity of Disney's illness had largely been kept secret, so his death came as quite a shock to both the press and the general public.

Walt Disney, in life, avoided the subject of death to the point that he wouldn’t even attend the funeral of his brother, Herbert. He specifically asked his family to avoid any kind of public spectacle when he himself eventually died. “When I'm dead I don't want a funeral,” he once told his daughter, Diane. “I want people to remember me alive.” 

However, a small unannounced funeral was held at Forest Lawn’s Little Church of the Flowers the day after Walt's death. Only his immediate family attended, and they never spoke of it to the public. Forest Lawn officials would only say that "Mr. Disney's wishes were very specific and had been spelled out in great detail." The public was not told of Disney’s death until after his cremation and his ashes weren’t even interred for almost a year. 

But how did the “Waltsicle” myth start, and how did it become part of our pop-cultural mythology?

Some say the story began within Disney Studios. Several sources point to an unnamed “Disney publicist” who said story was started by a group of Disney animators who "had a bizarre sense of humor." And unauthorized Disney biographer Neal Gabler writes that Walt's friend “Ward Kimball, a puckish animator at the studio, took some pride in keeping the rumor afloat.” 

Ward Kimball, circa the late 1960s. (Source: The Disney Wiki)

Alternately, Gabler writes that “the source of the rumor may have been a tabloid named National Spotlight, whose correspondent claimed to have sneaked into St. Joseph’s Hospital where Disney had expired, disguised himself as an orderly, picked the lock on a storage room door, and spotted Disney suspended in a metal cylinder.”

In 1969, the story was picked up by celebrity tabloid magazine Ici Paris. From there, it spread to a variety of other American and European scandal sheets and tabloids.

The secretive way in which Walt’s death was handled, combined with his reputation for adopting futuristic technology, provided an environment in which the cryonics myth could thrive. 

Timing also played a role in the “Waltsicle” myth. Articles and books about cryogenics were prevalent in the mid-1960s. The Prospect Of Immortality (1964) by Robert C. W. Ettinger was a bestseller. And the first cryonic suspension of a human -- Dr. James Bedford of Glendale, California -- took place just a month after Disney's death.

Former TV repairman and Cryonics Society of California president Bob Nelson, who was involved in freezing Bedford, discussed the Walt Disney myth with Chris Nichols in a 2013 post on Los Angeles Magazine's "Ask Chris Blog," 

"We got a call from Walt Disney Studios, asking us how many people had been frozen, and what kind of facilities we had, and who the medical staff was,” said Nelson. “He [Walt Disney] was a very brilliant individual and he was checking all the bases.”

In a 1972 Los Angeles Times article entitled, "The New Ice Age: Gone Today, Here Tomorrow," Nelson was even more direct, saying, “Walt Disney wanted to be frozen… Lots of people think he was, and that the body’s in cold storage in his basement. The truth is, Walt missed out. He never specified it in writing, and when he died the family didn’t go for it. They had him cremated. I personally have seen his ashes. They’re in Forest Lawn. Two weeks later we froze the first man. If Disney had been the first it would have made headlines around the world and been a real shot in the arm for cryonics.” 

(For the record, if the Cryonics Society of California had actually held Walt at their Ridgeline, California facility, he wouldn't be frozen anymore. Their customers all defrosted in the 1970s when the organization ran out of money.) 

Responding to that article, Diane Disney Miller wrote a letter to the Times editor: “There is absolutely no truth to the rumor that my father, Walt Disney, wished to be frozen. I doubt that my father had ever heard of cryonics. Cremation was his wish, as was the simple family service we observed for him.”

In the take-it-for-what-it’s worth department, website Snopes.com, (noted as one of the “fact checking” websites that lies whenever it serves their purpose) claims it checked out the Waltsicle story and that “the name, license number, and signature of the embalmer appearing on the death certificate are those of a real embalmer who was employed at the Forest Lawn mortuary at the time." They also point out that a marked burial plot, for Walt Disney (and his son-in-law) can be found at the Forest Lawn Memorial Park... “and court papers indicate that the Disney estate paid $40,000 to Forest Lawn for interment property." 

But the frozen Walt myth persists and has been reinforced by numerous unauthorized Disney biographies which revived the old rumors and added colorful details, but offered no proof nor meaningful footnotes. Among these were Robert Mosley's Disney's World (1986) and Marc Eliot's Walt Disney: Hollywood's Dark Prince (1993). Historians looked askance, but the public ate it up. 

The second part of the myth – that Walt’s cryonic chamber was hidden under Disneyland – seems to have developed later. It was probably bolstered by the secretive nature of Disneyland’s “back lot,” which actually does include underground access tunnels, hidden apartments, a “secret” exclusive restaurant called Club 33, and even a hidden basketball court inside the top of the Matterhorn. Again, it was this semi-secrecy that provided the perfect breeding ground for an urban legend.

The alternate story that the chamber was hidden under Pirates of the Caribbean can probably be attributed to the fact that the attraction was under construction at the time of Disney’s death, and that the ride was mostly built underground. 

The Tomorrowland theory may stem from the fact that the entire area underwent a major transformation shortly after Disney’s death. 

The Matterhorn version of the story probably has the most obvious roots, since a hollow, “ice”-covered mountain seems the perfect place to freeze someone.

The Matterhorn, Disneyland, Anaheim

Specifics aside, the overall myth is astonishingly persistent. Even Michael Eisner, when he was lobbying to become CEO at The Walt Disney Co., thought the cryogenics story might be true. He actually asked Diane Disney Miller about it, point-blank, the first time they met. Author James B. Stewart described the conversation in his book, Disney War:

"Eisner… leaned toward Diane. ‘There's something I've been wanting to ask you,’ Eisner said. ‘Is he...’

"Diane cut him off. ‘I know what you're going to ask, and no. Dad isn't frozen.’ She couldn't believe Eisner would ask her about the rumor… which she considered as credible as reports that Elvis was alive."

In a February 2012 interview with the Huffington Post, Miller cited a number of ugly myths about her father -- including his apocryphal freezing as reasons she founded the Walt Disney Family Museum at the Presidio in San Francisco. She also cited a number of "really terrible books written about him," one of which "was a total invention." Miller said she couldn't let such lies stand.

Setting aside half-baked biographies and the speculation often generated by the Walt Disney Company's reputation for secrets, it's still easy to see how the Waltsicle myth caught on and survived. On one hand, Disney was a well-known innovator, introducing us to new technologies like monorails, audio-animatronics, the Plastics Home of the Future, and his plans for a super-futuristic "community of tomorrow" called EPCOT.  And on the other hand, Disney seemed something of a magician: Hanging out with Tinkerbell and bringing fairy tales and history to life both on the silver screen and in his breath-taking master-work, Disneyland. Via either science or pixie-dust, if anyone could figure out the trick of immortality, wouldn't it have been Walt Disney?  

But most of all, the enduring myth of a not-quite-completely-dead Walt Disney shows just how unwilling the world is to let go of him.

[Note: This article was originally published in the Dino-mite newsletter in 2013.]

The "League of St. Christopher" Scam

Occasionally, these odd little medals show up for sale online or are donated to museum at Mission San Juan Capistrano. The unusual part isn't the obverse (front), which is a typical "St. Christopher medal" of the kind often worn or carried by Roman Catholics for protection while traveling. The mystery begins on the reverse, which includes the text, "Postage Guaranteed / Drop in any mailbox / The League of St. Christopher / San Juan Capistrano / California." So what was that all about? No one in San Juan Capistrano seems to know.

The League of St. Christopher was launched in the early 1950s, nominally as a private operation to raise funds for historical restoration work at Mission San Juan Capistrano. However, the League had absolutely no affiliation with the Mission. 

Former radio announcer and one-time movie producer ("Adam Had Four Sons") Robert C. Sherwood of Van Nuys was the founder, president, and seemingly only member of the League. He sent out at least 300,000 requests for donations by mail -- primarily to addresses in New York, Chicago, Detroit and Philadelphia. The League's letterhead featured an image of the Mission and gave the impression of a connection to that historic site.  

Sherwood had started manufacturing "religious items" by 1951. Presumably, these items were the "League of St. Christopher/Mission San Juan Capistrano" medals that were likely included with the requests for donations. (Many can be found on eBay today.) 

Hollywood's youngest producer (age 29), Robert C. Sherwood, in 1940. (AP Photo)

In July 1958, when Sherwood was forty-seven years old, he was prosecuted by the Feds for tax evasion and nineteen counts of mail fraud. More than forty witnesses, including his own parents, testified against him. It seems the League was a scam in which Sherwood kept all the money for himself -- buying a home, a new Cadillac, etc. Moreover, he never claimed any of this income on his taxes. 

Sherwood also replicated the scam with another group he invented called the National Child Safety Council.

In 1950, he was indicted by a Federal Grand Jury on nineteen counts of mail fraud. He lucked out when the prosecutor couldn't gather enough evidence before the statute of limitations ran out. But that wasn't where it ended.

On August 30, 1958, Sherwood was given a one-year suspended sentence and put on five years' probation for tax evasion and was ordered to pay taxes on $23,000 -- a fraction of the more than $150,000 he'd taken in from the League scam. 

In January 1961, Sherwood committed suicide by shooting himself in the head at his Sunset Strip apartment in Hollywood after an argument with his wife.

"Wait. Back up. What about the 'Postage Guaranteed / Drop in any mailbox' part of the medallion?" I hear someone ask. 

The League offered members a lifetime key return service for $1. If the medal was lost, the idea was that it could be dropped in any mailbox and thus returned to the League, which would match the stamped serial number on the medallion to their membership records and then return the medallion (presumably attached to the owner's ring of keys) to the owner. 

However, if anyone ever found a ring of keys with this medallion attached and dropped it in a mailbox, they didn't accomplish much. No one in San Juan Capistrano had ever heard of the League of St. Christopher.

Phil Brigandi on the Pacific Electric Railway

A Pacific Electric "Big Red Car" makes its way from Huntington Beach to Newport Beach.

I recently stumbled across some short articles from a project my mentor -- the late great historian Phil Brigandi -- and I both worked on. Many of these documents have been reused, reworked, or republished in the years since. But here's one of Phil's contributions that seems to have entirely disappeared from public view. (I've added photos because, well, my blog readers seem to like photos.) Enjoy.

The Pacific Electric Railway in Orange County
by Phil Brigandi

For more than 40 years, the Pacific Electric Railway played an important role in the development of Orange County. Henry E. Huntington began acquiring Southern California streetcar lines in the 1890s, and in 1901 he and his partners formed the Pacific Electric Railway Company. In 1902 the PE built its first line from Los Angeles to Long Beach. The company continued to grow, buying and building more lines. By the mid-1920s, the PE operated more than 1,000 miles of track throughout Southern California.

But by the late 1920s, the PE was already beginning to abandon passenger service on some of its lines. The company sold the last of its passenger lines in 1953, and the “Big Red Cars” made their last run in 1961. 

Three main lines and several branches served Orange County, providing passenger and freight service.

The Santa Ana Line left the Long Beach Line at Watts and angled across the center of the county to Fourth Street in Santa Ana. Service began in 1905. Cypress and Benedict (later Stanton) were founded beside the tracks that same year, and the Garden Grove area also got a boost from the new line. Passenger service continued until 1950.

Pacific Electric Triangle Trolly Tour riders pose at Santa Ana City Hall, 1910s.

A branch line served Orange via Main Street, La Veta Avenue, and Glassell Street (then Lemon Street after 1914). Passenger service to Orange ended in 1930.

Another branch line went south and then west to serve the farming communities at Greenville, Talbert, then south again to connect with the PE’s Huntington Beach branch. Completed in 1907, the Santa Ana-Huntington Beach line carried more freight than passengers, and passenger service was abandoned in 1922.

The Newport-Balboa Line was the first Pacific Electric line into Orange County. It ran down the coast from Long Beach. The trains reached Huntington Beach via Seal Beach in 1904, and the tracks were extended to Newport Beach in 1905, and finally to Balboa in 1906. The PE considered continuing on down the coast, but those tracks were never built. They began reducing service on this line in the 1940s, and the last passenger run was in 1950. 

In 1903, while the Newport-Balboa Line was still in the planning stages, Henry Huntington and his partners bought the Pacific City tract along the proposed route and renamed it Huntington Beach. Sunset Beach was laid out along the tracks in 1905, and even Corona del Mar hoped to take advantage of the proposed extension down the coast.

The PE also took over the Southern Pacific’s Smeltzer branch, running inland from Huntington Beach, and converted it to electric service in 1911. Though largely a freight line, passenger service was offered until 1928.

The La Habra-Yorba Linda Line began in Whittier. It was built in stages, first to La Habra in 1908, then Brea in 1910, and finally to Yorba Linda in 1911. Plans were made to extend the line out the Santa Ana Canyon to connect with the PE’s inland routes, but they were never carried out. 

A branch line was built south across the Bastanchury Ranch to serve Fullerton in 1917. Passenger service on both these routes continued until 1938.

Fullerton, 1937

The Real Perry Mason of Orange County

E. E. Keech, Esq.

E. E. Keech was one of the first great legal minds of Orange County, California and a highly respected citizen. He helped develop some of the county’s longest-lived institutions, and likely served as one of the models for popular culture’s most enduring fictional attorneys. His tragic sudden death would come as a shock to the community.

Elwin Eugene Keech was born in Wisconsin in April 1856. His father, Jonathan Keech, a Wisconsin pioneer, was born in Pennsylvania around 1830. His mother, Martha, was born in New York around 1833.

In 1870, Elwin was living on the family farm in Greenleaf, Meeker County, Minnesota, with his parents and his brothers: William L. Keech, born in Wisconsin around 1854; and Edward, born in Minnesota around 1861. Clearly, the farm was doing well, as they employed a domestic servant. 

A young E. E. Keech.

His other brothers (or perhaps half-brothers) were Mirlon Keech, born about 1874; and H. M. Keech, born about 1879. In the 1880 Census, Elwin’s father, Jonathan, is shown married to a woman named Isabelle. Isabelle was born about 1841 in Ohio. 

Elwin attended Holbrook's Normal School, Lebanon, Ohio, in the 1880s and was employed as an instructor in the school immediately after his graduation. Later, he taught at the Glasgow Normal School in Kentucky. The last four years of his teaching career were spent as a Professor of Mathematics. 

He also graduated from Oberlin College, Ohio with a degree in Civil Engineering.

Keech married Amelia Boyle on August 12, 1884, in Hopkins County, Kentucky.  Amelia was born November 5, 1866, in Nabo, Kentucky. Most likely she met Keech when he attended Holbrook's Normal School. 

Amelia Boyle

He then moved to Orange County around 1886 and worked as a surveyor while he studied the law. He was admitted to legal practice around 1889. For many years, his law office was in the First National Bank Building at 4th St. and Main in Santa Ana (later remodeled as the Otis Building). 

In 1888, Keech was secretary of the Prohibition Club of Santa Ana and was a candidate for Los Angeles County Clerk on the Prohibition ticket. In some respects, his political views echoed those of Southern Democrats. He claimed, however, that he was once a Republican. Either way, he was – in the words of newspaperman Dan M. Baker – “the only consistent prohibitionist in the county.”

When Orange County broke off from Los Angeles County in 1889, the Santa Ana Standard suggested that Keech would be an excellent choice to fill the new county’s single judgeship. He never did serve as a judge, but at one point he did serve as City Attorney for Santa Ana.

Keech was an early member of Santa Ana’s first Unitarian Church and of their Unity Club, which discussed a wide range of social, moral, and intellectual topics. He was a member of the Santa Ana Wheelmen (a bicycle club) in 1893, was president of the Santa Ana School Board in 1894, and was a notary public for many years.

In 1896, it appears Keech took a temporary position on the East Coast. The Abingdon Male Academy listed Professor E. E. Keech of Santa Ana, California in their 1896-97 circular. The Academy was located in the town of Abingdon, in the mountains of southwestern Virginia. It was a prep school that also provided “practical business education to the young man who finds it impossible to pursue a complete college course.”

In any case, Keech didn’t stay away from California for very long. In 1899, he hired L.A. architect G. S. Garrett to design a three-story, 19-room house at 201 E. Washington, at Bush St. in Santa Ana. It was completed in 1901. Prior to this, the Keech family lived at 714 N. Parton. 

Keech-Klatt House (1899), 201 E. Washington St., Santa Ana (Photo by author)

Meanwhile, E. E. Keech’s professional reputation continued to grow. In 1901, he was one of the ten attorneys who founded the Orange County Bar Association. Fellow attorney Horatio J. Forgy remembered, “At the time of the organization of the Orange County Bar Association, Mr. Keech was one of the most active members in organizing the association; and he did it with the sole idea and purpose of strengthening the integrity of the ethics of the profession."

Keech, whose extensive personal law library was locally renown, also served on the first board of trustees for the Orange County Law Library, from 1891 to 1895. 

Keech was a stern authoritarian as a parent.  His children were…

• Helen J. Keech: Born in Kentucky Nov. 27, 1885. She was on the Santa Ana High School debate team in early 1905 and was manager of the Whittier College track team in 1906-1907. She became a teacher, married a man named McCarthy, and moved to Santa Barbara. Helen died in Eureka, California on Dec. 6, 1980. 
• Madelaine V. Keech: Born in California around 1903. She was still living with mother in 1920. She committed suicide.  
• Cara M. Keech: Born in California in April 1891. She served as a nurse during WWI. Her first assignment, in 1918, was at Letterman General Hospital in San Francisco. However, she was soon sent overseas to serve as a dietitian. Cara contracted the flu aboard ship and was taken to the hospital upon arrival in Portsmouth, England. She died there on Oct. 17, 1918.  The 1919 Santa Ana High School Ariel included a tribute: “In the call of Democracy the need for those angels of mercy – the Red Cross nurses – was very great, and from our midst the following went forth to answer the call: Cara Keech, 1909, who made the “supreme sacrifice;” Edith Cole, 1907; Florence Crozier; Anna Laird.
• Dana Eugene Keech: Born in Santa Ana on Dec. 11, 1894. Served in the Casual Detachment, Company L during WWI (was on duty in Arcadia, CA at time of father's death.). Dana’s childhood friend, historian Charles D. Swanner wrote, “Dana was enthusiastic about aircraft and we watched him make a glider in his father’s barn. He tried it out at Red Hill, northeast of Tustin, and although it was wrecked on its first flight, it did glide for a short distance. Glenn Martin made his first aeroplane and we followed his efforts to fly with great interest.” Dana Keech first married Carlotta Elizabeth Loner Kilgo, and later married Jewel Dorothy Hickox. He died in San Bernardino on June 10, 1983. Carlotta died in 1992 in San Bernardino. Jewel died in Los Angeles in 1988.
• Hugh Boyle Keech: Born in California on Apil 29, 1889. He was working in an ax factory in 1910. He later served as an Army aviator, stationed out of San Diego, in WWI. Hugh died in Long Beach on April 19, 1978.  
• Douglas William Keech: Born in California on June 2, 1901. He married Carmencita K. Gardom (a native of Canada) in Orange County on July 1, 1932. In 1976 he was an apartment building manager in San Francisco. He died on April 27, 1991 in San Francisco.

E. E. and Amelia with two of their children.

Keech’s sister-in-law, Lucie V. Boyle also lived with the family for many years.

In 1909, a young man named Erle Stanley Gardner came to “read law” under the tutelage of E. E. Keech. Gardner spent fifty hours a week as a clerk Keech’s office and lived in the Keech home. He spent his free time studying and boxing. 

Historian and attorney Charles Swanner remembered, “Dana Keech had purchased a pair of boxing gloves and Gardner, who was quite proficient as an amateur boxer, was teaching Dana some of the fundamentals of boxing. On one occasion I was watching the boxing lesson with my brother and Ray McTaggart, who thought he was pretty clever with his ‘mitts.’ He told my brother John and me, ‘I’m going to put on the gloves with Gardner and give him a hay-maker!’ We watched with anticipation as he started to spar around the barn with Gardner, but after he missed a couple wild swings, Erle floored him with an uppercut to the chin, and that ended the boxing exhibition for that evening.” 

Swanner also remembered that Gardner, “enjoyed the outdoors and took Dana with him to the foothills on numerous occasions.” It’s quite possible he may have even tagged along on some of Dana’s excursions to watch aviation pioneer Glenn L. Martin test his aircraft.

Dana Keech in his hand-built aeroplane. Probably on the bluffs near the Newland House in Huntington Beach.

Gardner also dated Elwin’s daughter, Cara Keech, who was crushed when the relationship didn’t work out.

In 1911, with both eyes blackened from an amateur boxing match, Gardner passed the California bar exam. That same year, at age twenty-one, Gardner opened his own one-room law office in Merced. He practiced law for a time, but found his true calling as a fiction writer. He is most noted for his Perry Mason novels.

In the teens, Keech served as Counsel to Orange County Savings and Trust Co.  But he was better known in the field of water law, serving as counsel for the Santa Ana Valley Irrigation Company (SAVI) and the Anaheim Union Water Company. As the attorney for the Newbert Protection District he drafted the State law governing the formation of flood control districts. 

Cara Keech and Earle Stanley Gardner, Santa Ana.

In 1915, E.E. Keech was elected president of the Orange County Bar Association. He was the third to serve in that office.

On July 30, 1917, E.E. Keech died when the car he was driving was struck by a train at Northam Station, near Buena Park. There was speculation regarding the circumstances – It happened on a clear day on a flat stretch of road, and Keech was known as an extremely cautious driver. This prompted some to think his death was suicide. 

His pallbearers included some of the most prominent legal minds in Orange County. They were Superior Court Judge William H. Thomas; Keech’s former partner, Samuel M. Davis; attorneys Horatio J. Forgy, Roger Y. Williams and Richard Melrose; and SAVI trustee Edward M. Nealley.

Another memorial service was held as an official session of the Orange County Superior Court on August 10, 1917, in conjunction with the Orange County Bar Association. In his letter, inviting all local attorneys to attend the service, Judge Thomas wrote the following description of Keech:

“E. E. Keech, an affectionate husband, a kind father, a lawyer of rare attainments and splendid ability, a man of unimpeachable character and a high-grade citizen, is dead… He ever preached and practiced the highest ideals, and insisted on the maintenance of the best traditions of our profession…

“For nearly a third of a century he has practiced his profession at this Bar. His home was with us. He raised his family here. He was in truth one of us. He was not claimed by our profession only. He belonged to the entire community during his life. We have tried cased both with him and against him. None is there who can truthfully say he was not always a painstaking and able associate, or a worthy opponent, as well as a dangerous adversary, but one who always ‘played the game square.’…We all admired him as a lawyer and loved him as a man.”

Amelia Boyle Keech died in Orange County on May 9, 1946.

Orange County Registered Voters, 1920-2024

Senator Tom Kuchel voting in Orange County, June 8, 1954.

Here's a breakdown of voter registrations by party affiliation, beginning in 1920, compiled by the late historian Phil Brigandi. I think I'm the only one who still had a copy of this list, and it seemed too useful to waste, so I'm sharing it. 

To Phil's list -- which ended with 1980 -- I've added data for various years from 1990 to 2024. It's also worth mentioning that 2013 was the first time since the early 1960s that Orange County had more registered Democrats (547,458) than Republicans (547,369).

1920:
Republican: 9,145
Democrat: 3,202
Decline to State: 1,275
Prohibition: 658
Socialist: 147
All Other: 112

1926:
Republican: 29,243
Democrat: 9,194
All Other: 3,289

1928:
Republican: 36,036
Democrat: 11,487
Decline to State: 2,106
Prohibition: 709
Socialist: 199
All Other: 560

1930:
Republican: 37,154
Democrat: 10,692
Decline to state: 1,802
Prohibition: 475
Socialist: 181

1932:
Republican:  37,921
Democratic: 21,712
Decline to state: 1,738
Prohibition: 473
Socialist: 388
All Other: 74

1936:
Republican: 28,805
Democrat: 35,222
Decline to state: 1,499
Prohibition: 307
Socialist: 102
All Other: 19

1938:
Democrat: 39,473
Republican: 31,356
Townsend: 1,985
Decline to State: 1,629
Prohibition: 261
All Other: 137

1940:
Democrat: 42,890
Republican: 35,811
Decline to State: 1,851
Townsend: 988
Prohibition: 248
All Other: 163

1944:
Republican: 37,996
Democrat: 37,478
Decline to State: 2,056
Prohibition: 289
Townsend: 205
All Other: 72

1948:
Republican: 48,813
Democrat: 46,555
Decline to State: 3,998
Prohibition: 310
Independent-Progressive: 118
All Other: 219

1952:
Republican: 66,147
Democrat: 56,216
Decline to State: 4,293
Prohibition: 266
Independent: 191
All Other: 134

1956:
Republican: 98,808
Democrat: 86,996
Decline to State: 6,289
Independent: 605
Prohibition: 183
All Other: 56

1960:
Democrat: 154,373
Republican: 153,915
Decline to State: 12,433
Independent: 1,701
Constitution: 260
Prohibition: 156
All Other: 42

1964:
Republican: 229,943
Democrat: 215,749
Decline to State: 14,090
Independent: 2,951
Conservative: 121
All Other: 149

1968:
Republican: 306,696
Democrat: 243,469
All Other: 30,721

1972:
Republican: 394,935
Democrat: 337,279
All Other: 61,960

1976:
Republican: 362,990
Democrat: 335,330
Decline to State: 47,451
American Independent: 3,029
Peace and Freedom: 1,097
All Other: 713

1980:
Republican: 465,792
Democrat: 422,303
Non-Partisan: 92,363
Libertarian: 19,066
American Independent: 11,401
Peace and Freedom: 2,412

[ADDENDUM:]

1990:
Republican: 609,492
Democrat: 371,394
Decline to State: 93,894
American Independent: 11,214
Libertarian: 5,525
Peace and Freedom: 2,948
All Others: 1,239

2000:
Republican: 577,016
Democrat: 373,190
Decline to State: 160,892
American Independent: 22,705
Reform: 8,858
Libertarian: 8,184
New Law: 4,576
Green: 4,315
All Others: 5,796

2010:
Republican: 689,737
Democrat: 514,519
Decline to State: 325,474
American Independent: 36,349
Libertarian: 10,616
Green: 7,302
Peace and Freedom: 4,367
All Others: 6,436

2020:
Democrat: 648,537
Republican: 606,174
No Party Preference: 431,435
American Independent: 50,404
Libertarian: 17,899
Peace and Freedom: 5,961
Green: 5,078
All Other: 7,212

2024:
Democrat: 676,458
Republican: 618,872
American Independent: 68,956
No Party Preference: 412,816
Libertarian: 21,979
Peace and Freedom: 9,274
Green: 6,688
All Other: 5,435

O.C. Q&A: Place Names Edition

An artist's depiction of St. James.

Q:  Why are so many things named "Santiago" in Orange County?

A:  Thank homesick Spaniards. On July 27, 1769, the Portola Expedition camped near a creek in what's now Orange while on their way toward Monterey. It was two days after the feast day of St. James (Santiago), the patron saint of Spain, and they named the creek for him. The name was later applied to the canyon the creek flowed through and the mountain peak near its source. 

Over time, Santiago also found its way into the names of land grants (e.g. Rancho Lomas de Santiago), mining camps, schools, roads, railway stops, parks and more. And what evokes the romance of Old California more than Santa Ana's own Santiago Food Mart, Auto Wash & Wireless? 

Q:  My Spanish isn't too good. What's a Placentia?

A:  For starters, it's not Spanish. The late historian Virginia Carpenter, traced the word to England's Henry IV, who named one of his castles Placentia in 1445. Locally, Placentia first appeared in the 1870s, when teacher Sara McFadden suggested it as a name for a school district. A town followed the district and became a city in 1926. 

Note also that Placentia rhymes with Valencia, suggesting sunny Spain, and thus echoing popular real estate sales motifs of the era. Historian Don Meadows called Placentia "Realtor Spanish" for "a pleasant place."

Q:  There’s an ad on the radio that pronounces the name of my town COST-ah MESS-ah. There’s no chance the announcer is right and I’ve been saying it wrong, is there? 

A:  No, the people pronouncing it that way on the radio are just idiots.

But there’s a rich tradition of mispronouncing the names of our communities. Long ago, people commonly referred to some of our local towns as Santy Ann, Bree-ah, and B'yoonah (rhymes with "tuna") Park. Today, we still hear misguided souls saying Pla-sen-see-uh, Vee-ya Park, Westminister (with an extra “i”), and Portola Hills (with the emphasis on the second instead of third syllable). 

It could be worse. We could live in Los Angeles – which almost no one pronounces correctly.

Carol H. Jordan (1928-2023)

Carol Jordan, circa 1996.

Another great longtime Orange County local historian, Carol Jordan, passed away on November 22, 2023 at the age of 95.  She was the author of several books, was a founder of the Tustin Museum and the Tustin Area Historical Society, was Tustin’s Woman of the Year in 1979, and wrote frequent historical articles for The Tustin News from the early 1980s through at least 2000. Major newspapers, including the Los Angeles Times, still quoted her as an authority on Tustin history as recently as 2005. And her fellow historians were going to her for her expertise (and friendship) right up until the end.

Here’s an obituary from her family and the Tustin Area Historical Society Museum:  

Carol Emily Hough was born to Frederic and Emily (White) Hough on June 6, 1928, in Los Angeles, California. She grew up in Pasadena and attended South Pasadena-San Marino High School, graduating with the Class of 1946. She first became interested in history in high school while researching the memoirs of her grandfather, Alonzo Davis, as he described his experiences in the U.S. Army, mining and practicing law and later being elected to the Los Angeles County Board of Supervisors.

She graduated from Occidental College and married William C. Jordan on December 17, 1951. Her love of history and Tustin heightened after they moved here in 1955, when her husband opened his law practice in Santa Ana. Carol had a brief teaching career until retiring to raise their three children.

Carol’s interest in writing history started in 1972 when she was asked by Tustin Unified School District Superintendent to write about the demise of 101-year-old Tustin Elementary School District since it was changing into TUSD. She researched it to write her first piece, a play entitled “Ghosts of Tustin’s Past”.

In 1975, along with Vivian Owen and Mary Etzold, she founded the Tustin Area Museum as part of Tustin’s Bicentennial celebration. She served as the Museum Historian until 2006, was a consultant for the City of Tustin’s Historic Resources Survey, served for 25 years on the County of Orange Historical Commission and was Tustin’s 1979 Woman of the Year. She was the author of many books about Tustin, including Tustin Is My Hometown, Tustin: City of Trees, Tustin Heritage Walk, and Tustin: An Illustrated History.

Guy Ball, local historian and author of Images of America: Tustin, and The City Walk: All About Tustin in 1895, writes, 

Many local cities have people that jump to mind when you think about home-town historians.  For Tustin, Carol Jordan rings clear. Her definitive history of the city, Tustin: An Illustrated History, continues to be my go-to book and has bookmarks and highlighted sections throughout. 

In 1975, along with Vivian Owen and Mary Etzold, Carol founded the Tustin Area Museum (and resulting Tustin Area Historical Society) as part of the city's Bicentennial celebration. She was the Museum Historian until 2006, but was always available to help people searching for Tustin area information.

But my best memory was when I was working on my Tustin book and she helped with some background research on some photos I had. She was so gracious and generous with her knowledge and expertise.

Only a couple months before her passing, I gave Carol a ride to a small lunch gathering at Ruby’s with fellow local historians. Carol was in excellent spirits and happily engaged in talking shop with everyone. 

Afterward, I drove her back to her apartment, and along the way I mentioned a house I was researching in Tustin that week. Once home, she said, “Hold on a minute,” and then fetched a small box from which she extracted a document that included a history of that same house, which she’d written almost forty years earlier. 

Aside from being pleasantly surprised and very appreciative of the unexpected assist, I was also struck by this thought: “I only hope I’ll still be that sharp and helpful to others when I’m 95!” Of course, the odds of that -- for any of us -- are low.

Carol was extraordinary to the end . She is missed.

[Author's note: Mea culpa! I'd intended to post this back in December, when I learned of Carol's passing. But for a variety of reasons, this winter was extremely difficult for me. So this post -- already in rough draft form -- was put on the back burner. Its late arrival is in no way an indication of anything other than way too many distractions.]

The Cokers: Huntington Beach Pioneers

Plowing celery fields in Orange County’s peatlands, circa 1903.

Although forgotten today, George C. and Catherine Coker were pioneers in the Wintersburg/Liberty Park area of what’s now Huntington Beach. By the time they arrived in 1905, they had already significantly improved their lot in life through hard work and determination. And like many Huntington Beach-area farm families, after many years of wresting a living from the soil, they profited unexpectedly and dramatically from the 1920 oil boom. Their son, George Jr., grew up with more education and opportunities than his parents ever had, and he experienced even greater success. Most of Orange County’s pioneers were in the business of farming, oil, or real estate, and the Cokers became involved in all three. What differentiated the Coker family from other local pioneer families with similar stories was the fact that the Cokers were Black. The 1910 and 1920 U.S. Census listed them as "mullato," and other documents describe them as "negro/black" with a “light complexion.” 

Huntington Beach’s attitude toward Black people during its first few decades was often contradictory, at best. On one hand, the few Black residents in the town’s early years – including laborer and city lifeguard Henry M. Brooks – were accepted and, in some cases, particularly well-liked. On the other hand, an attempt at opening a home for Black orphans downtown was scuttled by public outcry; community leaders strongly opposed the building the Black-only Pacific Beach Club (which was burned by arsonists, days before opening); and in the 1920s the city would become a significant hub for Ku Klux Klan activity. Even as of 2023, only 1.2% of the city’s population was Black (1) and the City Council actively voted specifically not to acknowledge Black History Month.

The view up Main St. in Downtown Huntington Beach, 1905.

With this history in mind, it is interesting to see how well the Cokers fared while living here and to consider how changing attitudes may have eventually encouraged them to leave.

Depending on which Census records you believe, George Cicero Coker was born either in Mississippi or in Tuscumbia, Alabama. In any case, he was born on Nov. 26, 1865 -- just six months after the end of the Civil War – to parents who were native to Alabama. 

He was born with the name “George Tubb,” but was raised by white foster parents Joseph and Jane Coker in Colbert County, Alabama (where Tuscumbia is located) and eventually took their name. Both Joseph and Jane were natives of Georgia. Joseph was born around 1825 and was a farm laborer. Jane was about five years younger than Joseph. (2)

Main St., Tuscumbia, Alabama, late 1800s.

Considering only a little more than 6% of Black people in Alabama were free prior to the war, there’s a strong possibility that at least one of his biological parents was a slave. 

Little is known about George’s early life, except that he was self-educated and could read and write. 

As a young man, he worked for several railroads and was a member of the surveying crew what became oil tycoon Henry M. Flagler’s Florida East Coast Railway Company in Florida. 

Florida East Coast Railway tracks between Blue Springs and Orange City, Florida, circa 1897.

In February and March of 1891 there was widespread news coverage throughout the South of the accidental shooting of thirteen-year-old Bertha Belgart of Hayneville, Alabama by "George Coker." (Miss Belgart had been the lass who, just months earlier, had cut the ribbon to unveil the town’s large Confederate monument.) Unfortunately, only a couple newspapers bothered to run a correction which explained that the man whose pistol went off was actually Will Coker, not George Coker. If that wasn't enough to make a Black man named George Coker want to leave the lynching-prone South, it's hard to imagine what would.

Redlands, California, 1890s.

George Coker arrived in California in 1892. Newspaper accounts in 1896 place him in Redlands.

In 1897 George homesteaded 160 acres just west of downtown Coachella, California. According to Riverside County Historian Steve Lech, this property was at the southwest corner of Avenue 51 and Harrison Street. This area was often referred to as part of Indio at the time (3). Here, Coker became known as leader in the local branch of the Salvation Army. 

But in August 1900 he became truly notable among his neighbors for being the first to dig a successful well in Coachella. (Previous water sources had been artesian and to the southeast.) George still owned a small house in Redlands (4) which he traded to J. Lincoln Casebeer in exchange for digging a 2-inch, 540-foot-deep water well on his desert homestead. The gamble paid off in a big way, not just for him but for everyone in the area -- especially the farmers. Within a year, on the strength of Coker’s successful experiment, at least sixty more wells were dug in the area and local agriculture began to flourish. 

Irrigation in Coachella, 1903.

George sunk some of his newfound money back into Redlands real estate, and he would continue to buy and sell lots there through at least 1907.

Coker lived by himself in Riverside County until November 29, 1901, when he married Catherine E. Simmons (1866–1948) in Brogden, North Carolina and brought her back with him to California.

Catherine was born April 11, 1866, in Dudley, North Carolina, the daughter of Greene H. and Elizabeth “Betsey” Jane (Thornton) Simmons. Greene was a farmer who sometimes worked as a cooper and a mechanic. Like most farmers he had many children. In fact, he had at least eleven children. The 1840 U.S. Census shows that Greene Simmons and at least some of his family were “free colored people.” Some documents refer to them as “mulatto.”

George and Catherine Coker stayed on their Coachella property for the requisite five years to receive their land patent on September 2, 1902. After the patent was granted, they stayed for a few more years before selling and moving back to Redlands.

211 High St., Redlands: The Cokers home just before moving to Orange County. (Now demolished.) The neighborhood features large lots, many of which included orange groves.

On September 23, 1905, George and Catherine purchased twenty marshy acres just south of Wintersburg in Orange County for $3,050 from three prominent Santa Ana businessmen: Brother-in-laws Leopold Goepper and Addison Crockett “A. C.” Bowers and their friend from Odd Fellows, prominent builder Chris McNeill. McNeill’s projects included the Orange County Courthouse, Balboa Pavilion, Holly Sugar Factory (on Dyer Rd.), and the County Hospital. Bowers was on the board of several local banks and ran what would become the Barr Lumber Co.  

Within a year, the Cokers moved onto their new Orange County property (5). During this era – from the 1890s through about 1910 – this area was one of the country’s top producers of celery. And with cool, salty, sea breezes, prodigious artesian wells, and rich soil, it must have been a stark contrast to the Cokers’ years in the desert.

Celery fields near Smeltzer and Wintersburg, circa 1900.

The nearby small town of Wintersburg was centered at what’s now the corner of Gothard St. and Warner Ave. and was named for local celery industry pioneer Henry Winters, who’d given the Southern Pacific Railroad a right-of-way across his property as well as land for a depot. The celery industry attracted many Japanese farmers and laborers to the area. The Wintersburg Japanese Presbyterian Church was founded there in 1904. 

Little more than a stone’s throw to the east of the Cokers was the little agricultural community of Ocean View which began with the founding of the Ocean View School District in 1875. The town had grown up with the Ocean View School at its center at what’s now the intersection of Beach Blvd and Warner Ave. 

A train sinks into peat beds near Smeltzer packing house, Jan 13, 1905.

To the northwest, near the corner of Gothard St. and today’s Edinger Ave., the small town of Smeltzer existed to support celery packing houses. Specifically, this crossroads built up around the packing sheds of David E. Smeltzer, who in 1891 had helped introduce celery to Orange County as a viable crop. 

All three of these small communities would, after World War II, be absorbed into the City of Huntington Beach.

Within a few years of their arrival, the Cokers purchased an additional twenty adjacent acres (6). Now their combined forty acres made a square, bordered (in modern terms) by Gothard St. on the west, Slater Ave on the north, Belva Dr. on the south, and the line of Nichols Lane (if it continued south) on the east. The tracks of the Southern Pacific Railroad's Stanton line bisected their forty acres from north to south. The land would be incorporated into the City of Huntington Beach in 1957 and is now zoned for industrial use.

The Coker house (highlighted in red) and the railroad tracks still appear on this 1960 aerial view.

This was their home and their farm. But following the pattern George established in Riverside County, they would also buy and sell investment properties throughout the Huntington Beach area as their fortunes allowed. 

The Cokers’ home was located approximately at what’s now the southwest corner of Slater Ave. and Griffin Lane. It was accessed from a driveway or dirt road off (Huntington) Beach Boulevard (7). This access road later became part of Slater Avenue. 

On Dec. 16, 1906, the Cokers’ son, George Cicero Coker, Jr. was born.  He was delivered by Dr. C. D. Ball, perhaps the best regarded physician in Orange County. George Jr. attended the Ocean View School.  Whether or not George, Sr. had any formal schooling, he impressed the value of education on his son, who proved an excellent student.

George Coker, Jr. appears (upper left) among classmates in this detail from an Ocean View Grammar School class photo, circa 1919.

Their second son, Orvid (or perhaps Arvid or Orrid) Jean Coker, was born on Nov. 22, 1910. Little is known about Orvid, and by the 1920 U.S. Census he is not shown living with his family. He died at an early age. But curiously, he does not appear in the County death records between 1910 and 1920. 

Like most of their neighbors, the Cokers grew celery. A newspaper article in March 1909 mentions their ranch shipping an entire boxcar of the “green top” variety to market. But farming is seasonal, and George, Sr. sometimes supplemented the family’s income by taking additional jobs. For instance, a 1916 newspaper article states that George was “bitten by a dog while delivering milk the other evening.”

A celery blight hit Orange County beginning around 1905-1908, and the crop became less lucrative. In the years that followed, George Coker would experiment with a variety of other crops.

Wintersburg Methodist Church (now Warner Avenue Baptist Church).

The Cokers joined the Wintersburg Methodist [Episcopal] Church in 1910 – just a few years after it was dedicated – and would remain active members as long as they lived in the area. Other members included such key pioneer families as the Huffs, the Gothards, the Murdys, and the Winters.

By 1910, the Cokers’ taxable personal property included a cow, four dozen poultry, two horses, two colts (apparently taxed differently than older horses), two harnesses, farm implements, two wagons, furniture, and a sewing machine. And in February 1918 they made the local newspapers with their purchase of a used Maxwell automobile.

Detail from Westminster Road District plat map, circa 1912, shows “G. Coker’s” property on both sides of the tracks.

George Coker was liked and respected by his neighbors. In July 1918 – with the area’s once-booming celery industry largely supplanted by sugar beets and other crops – he was elected to the first board of directors of the non-profit co-operative Huntington Beach Produce Association, along with such notable pioneers as Joseph J. Courreges, Sam Gisler, and chairman of the Orange County Board of Supervisors Thomas B. Talbert. 

One of the early goals of the association was to explore the commercial possibilities of winter cabbage. George had agreed to plant at least five acres of his ranch in winter cabbage that season. Ultimately, the new crop failed to make a splash in Orange County, but George Coker’s election to the board of this optimistic endeavor was an indication of his position in the community.

Coker was also a member of the Celery Growers’ Association and the Lima Bean Growers Association.

In 1919, Standard Oil drilled their first successful well in Huntington Beach. Further drilling then showed that the whole area sat on an enormous field of oil. With shocking rapidity, the isolated little beach getaway was transformed into a bustling hub of dirty, smelly industry. Derricks were put up all around and by the end of 1920, Huntington Beach’s oil fields produced as much as 20,000 barrels a day. Additional productive fields were soon found nearby, and speculators were keen to explore all outlying areas. 

Some oil fields near Huntington Beach, circa the early 1930s.

Although not at the heart of the oil fields, the Wintersburg area was significantly impacted. The Coker’s early oil boom fortunes were mentioned specifically in a Feb. 3, 1920 Santa Ana Register article: "There have been many offers for [oil] leases, but the only ones reported as having been closed are the forty acres owned by L. T. Wells, southwest of Talbert, and forty acres held by Geo. C. Coker, south of Wintersburg. Wells received $200 per month and Coker $90 per month, according to the terms of the lease."  

Beginning in 1922, the Cokers sold at least 200 small pieces of land. Many of the buyers acquired the mineral rights to their parcels as well, along with any standing oil leases. The largest number of these parcels were sold during the thick of the oil boom in the 1920s, but the Cokers made many more sales in the 1930s and even a few in the 1940s.

George, Jr. (center) with fellow members of the HBHS Debate & Forensics team, 1922.

George Coker, Jr. spent his first two years of high school – 1921-22 and 1922-23 -- at Huntington Beach High School. He was at the top of his class in forensics both years, representing the school in regional competitions and tying with a Garden Grove High School student for first place as a freshman. As a sophomore he was an honor student, a member of the football team, a continuing star on the forensics team, and was elected the student council. But by the time the 1923-24 HBHS Cauldron yearbook was assembled, the Coker family had moved on.

The year 1923 was a time of numerous big changes for the Cokers, beginning with arrangements to sell half their farm property. The February 26, 1923 edition of the Los Angeles Times announced that "George C. Coker… sold twenty acres of land to C. O. Jaggers at $2000 an acre. It could not be ascertained whether it will be used for drilling for oil or for subdivision purposes."

Curiously, no such deed was ever filed with the County. More likely, the transaction was not a sale but rather the designation of Charles O. Jaggers – a big-time real estate wheeler-dealer and the president of Oil State Petroleum Co. – as the Cokers’ agent for the future sale or lease of those twenty acres to oil speculators. 

Jaggers had been on trial the year before for selling oil land around Huntington Beach without the appropriate state permits, but by early 1923 he seemed to be operating under a full head of steam again. (8)

Ruins of old house (not the Cokers’ home) still standing on the western portion of the old Coker Ranch, at 7412 E. Slater Ave. at Metzler Lane. This house is highlighted in green on the 1960 aerial photo, above.

In June 1923, the new Oil Rectifying & Marketing Company had completed construction of an oil refinery “north of the La Bolsa Tile Factory on the Southern Pacific tracks, on a tract of land commonly known as the George Coker ranch,” reported the Long Beach Press (June 3, 1923). The new plant was intended to “handle all oil which is not in the proper condition to run through the pipeline. It will be hauled to the plant by trucks. The company was financed by Dr. Harry B. Breckwedel and Barney Sorenson of Los Angeles and when completed will have a capacity of 3,000 barrels of crude daily. More than a mile of three-inch pipe was used in the building of this plant."

The year 1923 also saw the birth of the little community of Liberty Park, between the Cokers’ property and (Huntington) Beach Boulevard. This “highway town” was mainly composed of small, inexpensive homes intended for oil workers. 

Looking north up Beach Blvd toward Liberty Park from 300 feet south of Talbert Ave., 1931

By 1924, George Coker was well-established as a savvy local businessman. Ads for other available oil leases bragged that Coker – along with other noted real estate mavens like Tom Talbert and J. A. Armitage – was “interested in drilling” on their land. Whether true or not, the use of Cokers’ name as bragging rights indicates that he was a local opinion leader.

But with a new oil refinery on one side of them and a new village of oil workers on the other, the Cokers’ neighborhood was changing rapidly. In fact, the whole area was changing dramatically – from a small community where families settled in for the long haul and everyone knew everyone, to a transient place where thousands of oilfield roughnecks (many of them from Texas and Oklahoma) came and went as needed by the oil companies. 

One of numerous older, no-frills homes still standing in Liberty Park.

Worse, the presence and influence of the Ku Klux Klan was growing rapidly in nearby Huntington Beach, as it was in many Southern California communities. It’s unknown if this was a reason the Cokers began thinking of moving to an ethnically diverse neighborhood in Los Angeles, but it certainly seems possible.

The Klan in Orange County was at its peak in the first part of 1924, with at least 1,200 members. They took over Anaheim’s city government and insinuated themselves into positions of authority in numerous other cities. They burned a cross at the Sisters of St. Joseph in Orange, terrorizing nuns and children. They harassed people in the streets. Klan lecturer Rev. Horace Lackey gave a well-attended lecture on a downtown Santa Ana street corner, using a flaming cross and an American flag as his backdrop. They held what was purportedly Southern California’s largest Klan rally ever, with 20,000 attendees and another cross burning, in Anaheim’s City Park (now Pearson Park), where they inducted many new members. 

Ku Klux Klan rally at Anaheim City Park, July 29, 1924.

And Huntington Beach was no stranger to the Klan either. They had attempted to take over the city government as they had in Anaheim. So comfortable were the Klansmen in Huntington Beach that several thousand of them would hold a "spectacular" rally and picnic at 17th Street Park on Labor Day, 1924. The day included a large parade along Ocean Ave. (PCH), two bands, a baseball game, and numerous speakers. 

Perhaps the most remarkable "entertainment" was provided by three airplanes which flew circles around the park that evening: One unfurled a giant "KKK" banner, another carried a large flaming cross, and a third featured a Klansman in full white robe regalia -- hanging below the plane and swooping over the city like a demonic Mary Poppins.

A handful of the thousands of Klan members holding a rally and parade in Huntington Beach pose with the municipal band, 1924.

The Cokers now had more than enough money to move if they wanted to. And they wanted to. In the spring of 1924 they left the rustic marshlands near Huntington Beach and moved into a new home at 3420 S. Budlong Ave., in the Jefferson Park area of South Los Angeles. 

If the rise of the Klan was indeed a factor in their move, their timing was ironic. The Klan in Orange County began its rapid decline later that year. On Sept. 29th, the Orange County District Attorney Alexander P. Nelson kicked off a major campaign against the Klan. Soon, the Klan was banned from various community events, Anaheim began the process of recalling their Klan-dominated city council, the Santa Ana Police Department banned Klan activities for its officers, accusations of Klan membership crippled politicians’ election campaigns, and there was generally a growing understanding that the Klan was a problem to be routed out.

“Strong opposition from Dr. James Geissinger (Anaheim Methodist minister), the Kiwanis Clubs, and Anaheim newspapers… finally exposed the bigoted nature of the organization,” wrote historian Esther Cramer, “and the Klan leadership in the county was decisively defeated at the polls in 1925. Most of the membership sheepishly withdrew their support of the Klan…”

Originally among the wealthiest of the "trolley car suburbs” the Cokers’ new neighborhood of Jefferson Park had been developed in the very early 1900s and is still recognized for its many beautiful Arts & Crafts-style homes. It was already one of Los Angeles’ more ethnically diverse neighborhoods, including (like Wintersburg) a sizable Japanese American community.

3420 S Budlong Ave, Los Angeles

Even so, the Cokers were among the earliest Black families to call the neighborhood home. Generally, the 1930s is considered the decade when upper-middle to upper-class Black people began moving to Jefferson Park in significant numbers. This trend only accelerated after racial covenants were banned in 1948. The post-WWII years also saw many Creole families moving to Jefferson Park and the area was given the nickname "Little New Orleans." Among its many claims to fame, Jefferson Park would become the home of the first Fatburger, of Academy Award-winning actress Hattie McDaniel, and of the Mills Brothers. 

Long after their move, the Cokers continued to own land in the Huntington Beach area. Rather than “farmer” or “rancher,” George Coker now listed his occupation as “real estate.” They sold off several downtown Huntington Beach lots in 1925. And by the end of 1926 they had sold over 150 small pieces of the agricultural land in Section 26 (Wintersburg) that they’d purchased in 1905 through 1907. But they continued to hang onto part of their old ranch.

George, Jr. graduated from Los Angeles Polytechnic High School in January 1926.

George Cicero Coker, Jr. at Los Angeles Polytechnic High School, 1926.

George Coker, Sr. died in his Los Angeles home on October 17, 1926. His passing made the front page of the Huntington Beach News, which referred to him as a “pioneer resident of Huntington Beach.” 

Old Wintersburg friends and neighbors, including respected pioneer farmer George Gothard and Elizabeth M. Fox (wife of rancher Ernest M. Fox) made the trip up to Los Angeles to attend the funeral. George Coker, Sr. was buried at Evergreen Cemetery, which was remarkable in its day for never having banned Black people. Other notable Southern Californians buried there include California Eagle publisher/editor and civil rights activist Charlotta Bass, and land baron and "father of Long Beach" Jotham Bixby.

Wintersburg Southern Pacific Railway Depot, on Wintersberg Ave (now Warner Ave) just west of (Huntington) Beach Blvd.

An October 18, 1928 article in the Santa Ana Register reported that Mrs. Coker and her son, George, Jr. were visiting Wintersburg, “seeing after their [remaining] ranch property. They have recently returned from a vacation trip south, where they visited in Mrs. Coker's old home in Mississippi, and also in Georgia, the Carolinas and Washington, D. C. . . . George Coker has been attending U.C.L.A., where he has one more year." Additional articles in the California Eagle indicate that their trip also included stops in Chicago and Baltimore and that they stayed with family in North Carolina. 

Like so many others, the Cokers were hit hard by the economic crash of 1929 and the resulting Great Depression. As early as 1930 and continuing through at least 1945, the tax collector gradually took more and more of the Coker's remaining Orange County land for unpaid taxes.

“George C. Coker, Jr, MBA, USC.” Circa 1930 photo found among the papers of W. E. B. Du Bois.

George, Jr. stuck with his studies. But if he was indeed attending the University of California Los Angeles (UCLA), he must have switched at some point to the University of Southern California which was located a few blocks from the Coker home. In 1930, he graduated with a Bachelors of Science in Business Administration from USC, and he remained there to earn his MBA. The pithy title of his thesis was "A study of the proposed consolidations of the Pennsylvania railroad under the 1929 plan of the Interstate Commerce Commission." Interestingly, a photo of this promising young MBA grad student and Orange County native appears among the papers of noted sociologist, civil rights activist and author W. E. B. DuBois. Coker was also mentioned in the NAACP’s Crisis magazine (Vol. 38, 1931), edited by Du Bois.

Sometime before or shortly after receiving his MBA, George married Zelda Catherine Summers, a politically active young native of Oakland, California. They lived in South Los Angeles until 1933 when they moved to San Antonio, Texas, where George found a job working as a salesman for the Atlanta Life Insurance Co. Their daughter, Zelda Catherine Coker, was born in San Antonio on Nov. 12, 1933.

Zelda Summers as an Oakland High School sophomore, December 1926.

George and Zelda’s marriage was brief. Divorce papers were filed in 1935. Zelda returned to her hometown of Oakland with their daughter and took a job as secretary for the 17th Assembly District Fisher for Congress Club. The two Zeldas would return to live in San Antonio a few years later.

Meanwhile, George returned to South Los Angeles where he moved back in with his mother on Budlong Ave. and began a ten-year run of working for the Golden State Mutual Life Insurance Co. Launched in 1925, at a time when few companies would insure Black customers, Golden State had grown rapidly to become the largest Black-owned insurance company in the western United States. Their Los Angeles office was a centerpiece of the South Central neighborhood, and George became one of the company’s most successful salesmen.

Golden State Mutual Life Insurance home office, 4261 Central Ave, Los Angeles, 1947.

George and Zelda’s divorce was finally granted in June of 1938. George immediately married Ethel Jane West and moved into her home at 1339 E. 33rd St., in South Central Los Angeles. Ethel went by Jane, was about three years younger than George, and was a native of Arkansas. Living with them were cousins Clyde and Georgiana Malone, both Kansas natives. 

From 1935 through at least 1941, George appeared annually in the pages of the California Eagle for being among the Golden State Mutual Life Insurance Co. agents to qualify for membership in the National Black Cat Club (sponsored by Accident & Health Review magazine) by "writing thirteen or more accident and health insurance applications on National Hoodoo Day, Friday the 13th." 

Detail of advertisement for Golden State Mutual Life Insurance Co. depicting “Black Cat Club” initiates, including George Coker. ( California Eagle, June 19, 1941)

He was still with Golden State at the start of World War II, but he took a job supporting the war effort working in a shipyard in Oakland. Jane and George separated around 1943 and were divorced in September 1945. 

After the war, in 1946, George took a new job with the United States Employment Service. As the remnants of the New Deal faded away and the Employment Service transferred back under state control, George became a state employee. He worked in the Service’s Industrial and Maritime offices in San Francisco until he transferred to the Interstate Unit in Sacramento in 1953.

When Catherine E. Coker died in Los Angeles in July 1948, she still owned land near Huntington Beach. Her estate administrator sought and received authorization to lease some of the estate’s last remaining land in Section 26 near Wintersburg to oil developers Keans, Springmann & Stipek, Inc. 

Annie Virginia Stephens’ law school graduation photo, 1929.

In May of 1954, when George Coker, Jr. was 47, he married for the third time. This time, the bride was Annie Virginia Stephens Pendleton, 51 of Sacramento. Virginia was the first Black graduate from University of California Berkeley's Boalt Hall School of Law. She passed the California Bar that same year (1929), becoming the state’s first Black female attorney. She had her own practice for ten years before being appointed as Attorney for the State Office of the Legislature Council in Sacramento in May, 1939. She helped draft and amend countless legislative bills. She would become the head of the Indexing Section at the State Office of Legislative Counsel by the time of her retirement in 1966.

By the time George married Virginia, he had already earned his own law degree (9). They both tutored Black students for California State bar exams.

Virginia "Coker was variously described by those who knew her as a 'spoiled brat who was loved by all,' 'bright,' 'reserved,' 'every inch a lady' and someone with class,” wrote Nancy McCarthy in the February 2008 California Bar Journal. “She liked to travel, loved music, hated to cook (even though her father was a chef) and loved to shop. She once told a friend, …'If God ever told me, ‘Virginia, you have one more day to live,’ I’d like to do it shopping.' ... A legal indexer who worked for Coker from 1959 until her retirement in 1966 described her as ‘a good supervisor, a good friend, someone you could take personal problems to.’ 

Others said Virginia Coker was conscientious and worked tirelessly, often until late at night. She admitted to a co-worker that she was not confident she could pass the bar exam because she’d been told she was ‘too brief’ in her writing style. Her brevity served as a virtue, the co-worker said, as she had ‘the uncanny faculty for stating things in one sentence, stripping away unnecessary verbiage and getting straight to the point.’”

A later newspaper photo of Virginia Stephens Coker.

George retired from the California Department of Human Resources Development on December 28, 1969. A couple months later, he and Virginia went on a vacation to Africa. While there, George suffered a massive “heart stroke” and was initially hospitalized in Nairobi. Once considered stable, he was flown back to Sacramento where he remained hospitalized. He died in Sacramento on March 28, 1970 at age 63. His obituary showed that he was the father of Mrs. Zelda Mosley of Houston, Texas and was also survived by one grandson. 

Virginia Coker died in Sacramento in 1986 at the age of 82. Her obituary listed her as the stepmother of Mrs. Zelda Jefferson.

Although noteworthy in the early history of the Huntington Beach area, the Coker family moved to Los Angeles before local government began enshrining pioneers in public memory by naming streets, parks and schools after them. Moreover, the history of areas outside the early city limits has long been given short shrift. As such, the Coker family has generally been forgotten in Orange County.

Site of the Coker home near Wintersburg. Now part of the Central Park Business Centre industrial park at Slater Ave and Griffin St, in Huntington Beach.

Knowing the stories of our local pioneers provides historical context and is critical to understanding the roots and character of our communities. A town’s history is, to a large degree, what makes it unique and interesting instead of a bland clone of every other town on the map.

Today, efforts to remove historic names from the map are disturbingly common. In 2016 there was an attempt to rename several Huntington Beach parks long named for the pioneer Lamb, Wardlow and Arevalos families. In 2021, there was an effort to strip the name from Spurgeon Street Station: Santa Ana’s main downtown post office, named for city founder William H. Spurgeon. By removing these pioneer names, we further separate current residents from a sense of place and from their community heritage. The stories of our pioneers are easily lost.

Conversely, preserving reminders of our pioneer history – and, in the case of the Cokers, rediscovering that history – is important to understanding and shaping community identity today and in the future. Certainly, it’s worth rediscovering (and then remembering) that a successful and respected Black family was among the pioneers who shaped the early years of what became the middle of Huntington Beach. If nothing else, the story of the Cokers helps paint a slightly different – and hopefully slightly clearer – picture of the community’s early development.

[Thanks to Kalyn McCall of “The Happiest Place on Earth” blog, the library staff at Huntington Beach High School, Stephanie George of the Orange County Historical Society, Huntington Beach City Archivist Kathie Schey, Riverside County Historian Steve Lech, Julie Andrews of Community United Methodist Church of Huntington Beach, Dave Furuta, Patrick Jenning, Jim Mcdougall, Rachel Culmer of the Tuscaloosa County Preservation Society, and Rich Cooper of the Coker Alabama Town Council for their assistance.]

Endnotes:

1. Compared to 2.3% of Orange County’s overall population.
2. Per the 1870 U.S. Census. Tuscumbia was prosperous before being repeatedly decimated by both sides during the war. It was later also the birthplace of Helen Keller.
3. The actual place name at the time, technically, was Woodspur – a mequite-choked railroad siding. (Again, per Lech.)
4. On the west side of Silveria St., and south of Colton Ave.
5. East 1/2 of the northeast 1/4 of the southwest 1/4 of Section 26, Township 5 South, Range 11 West, San Bernardino Base & Meridian. (See Orange County Deeds 122/14 & 142/385)
6. West 1/2 of the northwest 1/4 of the southeast 1/4 of Section 26, Township 5 South, Range 11 West, San Bernardino Base & Meridian. (Deed of Trust filed Dec. 19, 1924)
7. Per the 1920 U.S. Census.
8. Jaggers would later be arrested again in San Diego County for selling subdivided lots where no subdivision existed.
9. According to the African American Museum and Library at Oakland, California.

Partial Bibliography:

• Brigandi, Phil. Orange County Place Names A to Z, Sunbelt Publications Inc, 2006. 
• Brigandi, Phil. Old Orange County Courthouse: A Centennial History, Historical Publishing Network, 2001.
• Brown, William Garrett. Northern Alabama Historical & Biographical Illustrated, Vol. II, Smith & Deland, Birmingham [AL], 1888.
• Christopher Cocoltchos, Christopher. “The Invisible Government and the Viable Community: The Ku Klux Klan in Orange County, California During the 1920s,” University of California Los Angeles, 1979.
• "City and Vicinity," Redlands Daily Facts, Mar. 13, 1896, pg. 3
• Coachella Valley Water District, Coachaella Valley's Golden Years, Desert Printing Co. Indio, 1968.
• County of Orange, Official Records (1846/274)
• Cramer, Esther R. La Habra: The Pass Through the Hills, Sultana Press, Fullerton, 1969.
• "Crowds Flock to Beach Here," Huntington Beach News, Sept. 2, 1924
• Detwiler, Justice B. Who's Who in California, a Biographical Directory, 1928-1929, Who's Who Publishing Co, San Francisco, 1929.
• Du Bois Papers (W. E. B.), Special Collections & University Archives, University of Massachusetts Amherst Libraries.
• “George Coker Passes Away in Los Angeles,” Huntington Beach News, Oct. 29, 1926.
• HRD News, California Dept of Human Resources Development, 1970.
• Jeffrey, J. W. "The Land," Los Angeles Times, Aug. 9, 1901, pg 12
• Jepsen, Chris. "Pioneer Andres R. Arevalos," O.C. History Roundup (blog), May 18, 2016.
• Jepsen, Chris. "Pioneer William D. Lamb," O.C. History Roundup, March 22, 2016.
• Jepsen, Chris. “The Rise and Firey Fall of the Pacific Beach Club,” Orange Countiana, Vol. VII, Orange County Historical Society, 2011.
• Jepsen, Chris. "Santa Ana Federal Building & Post Office (1931)," O.C. History Roundup, Aug. 7, 2009.
• Marsh, Diann, Huntington Beach: Gem of the South Coast, Heritage Media Corp, Carlsbad, 1999.
• Miscellaneous Records, County of Orange, (18/154, 20/393, 22/25 & 72)
• “Odd Bits Here & There,” Pomona Progress, Aug. 30, 1901
• "Produce Association Articles Are Filed," Santa Ana Register, July 22, 1918.
• "Real Estate Transfers," The Citrograph (Redlands), Sep. 1, 1900, pg. 2
• "Real Estate Transfers," The Citrograph, Nov. 9, 1907, pg. 10
• "Realty Transfers," The Citrograph, Apr. 1, 1905, pg. 8
• "Reclaiming the Desert," The Citrograph, July 14, 1900, pg 6
• "Redlands Home Telephone and Telegraph Company" [directory], The Citrograph, Mar. 3, 1906, pg. 3
• Rothman, Joshua D. "When Bigotry Paraded Through the Streets," The Atlantic, Dec. 4, 2016.
• "Transfers of Real Estate," Santa Ana Register, Aug. 13, 1907, pg. 4
• "Transfers of Realty," The Hour (Redlands), Aug. 25, 1900, pg. 8
• Urashima, Mary Adams. “Prohibition and booze under the cornerstone,” Historic Huntington Beach (blog), Jan. 8, 2018
• Urashima, Mary Adams. “Recalls 1912-2022: building piers, paving roads, the battle of the tidelands, and the Klan,” Historic Huntington Beach, February 13, 2022
• Westminster Road District (map), Plat of Orange County, 1912-1913