Anaheim’s “Missing” Jewish Cemetery

Anaheim in 1876. (Courtesy Anaheim Heritage Center)

There was almost a real cemetery in what became Disneyland’s backyard. But like some of the Haunted Mansion’s 999 ghosts, it failed to fully materialize.

Anaheim was planned and settled beginning in the late 1850s by the Los Angeles Vineyard Society, which was composed primarily of Germans and other Europeans who’d been living in San Francisco. It’s less well-known that some of Anaheim’s pioneers were Jewish – beginning with vintner, merchant and philanthropist Benjamin Dreyfus, who arrived in 1857. 

Jewish communities often prioritize acquiring land for a cemetery even before establishing a synagogue or school. The cemeteries are generally established by a local Jewish burial society – a tradition that began in Prague in the 16th Century. In keeping with religious law and tradition, these cemeteries are generally established outside of town. 

Gustav Davis, a founder of the Anaheim Hebrew Cemetery Assoc., joined his brother Phil in Anaheim in 1870. They opened a grocery and hardware store in 1878. (Courtesy Anaheim Heritage Center)

Indeed, as Anaheim’s Jewish community grew, the Anaheim Hebrew Cemetery Association was formed around 1876 and filed incorporation papers in January 1877. The first directors were Louis Wartenberg, Gustav Davis, Joseph Fisher, Morris A. Mendelson and H. Cohn. 

Henry Kroeger Building, south side of 100 block of Center St, (now Lincoln Ave.), Anaheim,1895. Early meeting place of the Anaheim Hebrew Cemetery Assoc. (Courtesy Anaheim Heritage Center)

The Association finally selected and purchased (from the Robinson Trust) two and a half acres south of town on July 8, 1882 for $125. 

In modern terms, the land is occupied by both the northbound and southbound lanes of Disneyland Drive, just south of Ball Road. 

Site of cemetery land highlighted in green.

Prior to the development of Disneyland Drive, the parcel was on the southeast corner of Ball and West Streets. (For you surveyor-types: The NE 1/4 of NW 1/4 of NW 1/4 of NW 1/4, of Section 22, Township 4 South, Range 10 West, San Bernardino Base & Meridian.) This spot was well known to locals into the early 1900s.

“However,” writes historian Dalia Taft, in JLife magazine, “no place of burial ended up being created and most Jews were interred in either Los Angeles or San Francisco." 

Site of proposed Anaheim Hebrew Cemetery as it appeared in 2024.

The fact that the land was never consecrated or used as intended was “perhaps because of the greater convenience of using the cemetery of the Hebrew Benevolent Society of Los Angeles located in Chavez Ravine,” writes Norton B. Stern in Western States Jewish History (Vol. 17, 1984). The reason was NOT – as one later history buff suggested – because God kept Anaheim’s Jews too healthy to ever need a cemetery.

Early Los Angeles map (detail) shows the Jewish cemetery on Reservoir St. in Chavez Ravine (Courtesy Huntington Library)

After being delinquent on taxes on their cemetery property since 1903, the Anaheim Hebrew Cemetery Association lost the property to the State of California on July 9, 1909. 

In a curious footnote to history, had Anaheim’s Jewish Cemetery been established it would have meant that Disneyland would have ended up elsewhere. Walt Disney made it clear to those helping him select a site, that he did not want his “Happiest Place on Earth” near a cemetery. 

Thanks to Jane Newell and Cynthia Ward for their help with this article.

Orange County’s Swamps & Marshes: A Historical Thumbnail Sketch

Bolsa Chica Ecological Preserve, 2012 (Photo by author)

You’ll never hear it from the Chamber of Commerce, but much of Orange County – from Irvine to Seal Beach to Westminster – was once covered in swamps and marshes. In a few places, segments of these swamps can still be found. But more often, over a century of elaborate drainage efforts have obliterated most signs of the wetlands. Let’s look at a few lowland highlights:

The area southeast of Garden Grove was known as “the Willows” for the dense swampy thickets that trapped wandering cattle and hid fugitive criminals. Even after the dense tangle of willows was carved away, simply driving a pipe into the ground a short distance would send a geyser of water into the air. Fountain Valley took its name from this phenomenon. 

Marshy willow thickets below the Newland House, Huntington Beach, 2007.

The miles-wide, willow-clogged river delta between the Huntington Beach mesa and Costa Mesa was occasionally described as being part of “the Willows,” but was also known by other names, including Talbert Gap. This swampland providing bait for fishermen, and seclusion for moonshiners and hermits. It included numerous lagoons including the large “Bitter Water Lake.”

The Talbert dredger, dredging a drainage canal near today's Atlanta and Magnolia Streets, in what's now Huntington Beach, 1898.

Westminster and north Huntington Beach were known as “the Peatlands” in the 1890s and early 1900s. Attempts were made to harvest peat from the bogs for fuel, and horses had to wear wide “peat shoes” to keep from sinking into the squishy ground. And the Cypress area was once called “Waterville” for its many artesian wells.

Peat shoes kept horses from sinking into the bog.

Gospel Swamp was the name given to the marshy land south of Santa Ana, below today’s McFadden Avenue and extending down into the northern edge of Costa Mesa. Many of the area’s settlers in the late 1800s were rural, religious folks from the South, who were jokingly called “Swamp Angels” by their city slicker neighbors in Santa Ana. The Greenville Country Church (1877) still stands at Greenville St. and MacArthur, near the heart of Gospel Swamp. A small remnant of the swamp itself can be seen behind the Heritage Museum of Orange County near Centennial Park. Some have surmised that the “Gospel Swamp” name stretched as far west as parts of Fountain Valley, although details about that particular boundary are hazy.

Upper Newport Bay, 2012 (Photo by author)

From the top of Upper Newport Bay to the foothills above Tustin and Irvine, the wetlands were almost impassable during the rainy season. When California was under Spanish and Mexican rule, the place was called la Cienega de las Ranas – the Swamp of the Frogs. Millions of tiny frogs could be heard “singing” for miles around each night, making it a landmark for travelers on El Camino Real. Today’s San Joaquin Marsh was part of the cienega. 

Blue heron at Bolsa Chica, 2013. (Photo by author)

The Bolsa Chica wetlands in Huntington Beach are named for the Mexican rancho they were once part of. It’s still an amazing repository of wildlife and is a critical spot for many species of birds during their migration up and down the coast. But it also has a rich human history. One can still find evidence of its Indian village sites, the exclusive Bolsa Chica Gun Club, the oil boom, the (now missing) Freeman River, World War II shore defenses and the modern battle between environmentalists and developers.

The "last peat bog in Fountain Valley," circa 1950s. Was west of Brookhurst St, on Garfield Ave.

For much of our history, the soggy parts of Orange County were both an annoyance and a boon. While it made the land useless for some purposes, the soil was rich with nutrients and damp enough to create booming industries in sugar beets, celery, lima beans, and other crops that benefit from constant moisture. The wetlands also served as a home for dozens of gun clubs or duck clubs, making Orange County a hunter’s paradise from Bolsa Chica to San Joaquin Marsh.

San Joaquin Marsh, Irvine (Courtesy Andreas Lombana/VvVAmobile)

Today, we recognize the value of wetlands and the many ways they provide a healthier environment for plants, animals and people. Instead of draining and paving them, there are efforts to preserve and even restore the marshlands that survive. 

Swamps: More proof that Orange County is more than Disneyland, and that all our local ducks don’t all wear sailor suits or hockey masks.

Talbert Marsh, near the mouth of the Santa Ana River, 1990.