The Palatingua Exiles.
States and nations, even as individuals, are often tempted in diverse
ways to forsake the path of rectitude, and, for material gain,
territorial acquisition, or other supposed good, to do dishonorable
things. To my mind one of the chief blots on the escutcheon of the
United States is its treatment of the Indians, and California, as a
sovereign state, cannot escape its individual responsibility for its
utterly reprehensible treatment of its dusky "original inhabitants."
When the Spaniards seized the land their laws were clean-cut and clear
in regard to the confiscation of the lands of the Indians. It was made
the duty of certain officials, under direct penalties, to see that
they were never, under any excuse, pretense, or even legal process,
deprived of the lands they had held from time immemorial. The
Mexicans, in the main, effectually carried out the same just and
equitable laws. But when the United States took possession of
California and the new state government was formally organized, a new
idea was interjected. The California law proclaimed its intention to
protect the rights of the Indians, but it made it the duty of the
Indians, within a certain specified time, to come before a duly
authorized officer and declare what lands were theirs and that they
intended to claim and use. Now while on the face of it this law seems
reasonable and just, in actual practice it is as cruel, wicked, and
surely confiscating as is the "stand and deliver!" of the highwayman.
How were the Indians to know what was required of them? What did they
know of the white man and his laws? As well pass a law that all the
birds who do not declare their intention of using the branches of
certain trees will be shot if they appear there, as pass laws
requiring Indians, ignorant of our language, our methods of procedure,
to appear and declare that they intend to continue to use lands they
had had uninterrupted possession of for unknown centuries. In other
words, the law fiction was a deliberate and definite scheme of
dishonest men to make legal the dispossession of the Indians, whenever
it was found desirable. Such a case in due time arose at Warner's
Ranch. Other cases innumerable might be cited, but this is the one
that particularly concerns Pala.
Warner's Ranch was named after Jonathan Trumbull Warner, popularly
known to the Mexicans as Juan José Warner, who came from Lyme, Conn.,
by way of St. Louis, Santa Fe and the Gila River, to California, in
1831. In 1834 he settled down in Los Angeles, marrying, in 1837, at
San Luis Rey Mission, Anita Gale, the daughter of Capt. W. A. Gale, of
Boston. The maiden, however, had been in California ever since she was
five years old, her father having placed her in the home of Doña
Eustaquia Pico, the widowed mother of Pio Pico, the last Mexican
Governor of California. In due time he (Warner) was naturalized as a
Mexican citizen and received from the Mexican Governor in 1844 the
grant of an immense tract of land in San Diego County, long known as
El Valle de San José. It was fine pasture land, but it was especially
noted for its hot springs--Agua Caliente--near which the Indians had
had their village from time immemorial. According to Spanish and
Mexican law, it must be remembered, their right to their homes and
adjacent pasture lands was inalienable _without their own consent_.
Hence under Warner's regime they lived content and happy, uninterfered
with, and never worried that a grant--of which they knew nothing--had
been made of their lands without any clause of exemption preserving to
them their time-honored rights.
Then came Fremont, Sloat and Kearny. California became a state of the
United States and among other laws passed the one referring to the
lands of the Indians noted above. As he passed by Palatingua, Genl.
Kearny, according to the oldest man of the village, Owlinguwush, who
acted as his guide, solemnly pledged his government not to remove the
Indians from their lands, provided they would be friends of the new
people.
This the Indians were. The white people soon learned the value of the
hot springs, and flocked thither in great numbers to drink and bathe
in the waters. The Indians charged them a small fee for the use of the
bath-houses and tubs they had prepared. This added to their modest
income, gained from their industries as cattle-men, hunters, farmers,
basket and pottery-makers. They were happy, healthy, fairly prosperous
and contented.
But in time Warner died. His grant was duly confirmed by the United
States Land Courts, _but no one cared enough to see that the rights of
the Indians were guarded_, hence the confirmation and deed of grant
contained no exemption of the Indians' lands.
The ownership changed until it came into the hands of a well-known
California capitalist. He was not interested in Indians, had no
particular sympathy with or for them, and did not see why they should
remain on _his_ land. Several times he vigorously intimated that he
wanted them to "clear off," he needed the land, and especially he
needed the hot springs. There was a strongly expressed desire that a
health and pleasure resort be established at this charming place, but,
of course, it was impossible so long as the Indians were there. Each
time removal was intimated to the Indians they laughed--as children
laugh if you tell them you are going to buy them from their parents.
Had they not lived here long before a white man had ever set foot on
the continent? Were they not born here, raised, married, had their
children, died and were buried here for centuries? Had not Spaniards,
Mexicans, and even General Kearny assured them they were secure in
their possession? Of course they laughed! Who wouldn't?
But the _owner_ of the land grew tired of their smiles. He wanted the
place, so his lawyers ordered the Indians to vacate, and the papers
were served in such manner that even the childlike aborigines were
compelled to realize that something serious was going to happen. But
that they should be compelled to leave! Ah, impossible! No one
possibly could be so cruel and wicked as that.
The courts were appealed to, and finally the State Supreme Court
decided against the Indians, by a vote of four to three--a decision so
contrary to the spirit of honor and justice that it aids in making
anarchists and revolutionists of good and law-abiding men. Confident
in the right of the Indians' cause their faithful friends took the
case up to the United States Supreme Court, and again, this time
purely on the plea of precedent--that it was contrary to rule for the
United States Supreme Court to interfere in any case that was purely
domestic to one State--the judgment ousting the Indians was confirmed.
Things now began to look serious. Some of the Indians were crushed by
the decision, others were ugly and wanted to fight. Various people of
various temperaments interfered, and each one denounced the others as
trouble-makers and brewers of mischief. Council after council was
held, and at each one the Indians stedfastly refused to leave their
homes.
In the meantime, realizing that the suit for eviction most probably
would go against the Indians, certain societies and individuals,
prompted by their interest in them and by their inherent sense of
justice, appealed to Congress to find a new home for these people if
they were dispossessed.
For the first time in its history, Congress voted $100,000 to give to
these Indians a better home than the one they were to be evicted from.
A special inspector was sent out to determine where this new home
should be. He reported favorably upon a site, which, however, better
informed people in the state, considered altogether unsuitable.
Protests immediately were lodged with the Indian Department and as the
result a Commission was appointed to investigate conditions, and find
the most suitable place to which the Palatinguas could be transferred.
This Commission was composed of Charles F. Lummis, Russell C. Allen,
and Chas. L. Partridge.
After weeks of careful and patient investigation, criticized on every
hand by those who were anxious to sell any kind of an acreage to the
Indians, it was finally decided to recommend the purchase of the Pala
Valley. Few seemed to see the irony of this decision. The land once
had belonged to the Pala Indians. Less than a century before a
thousand of them were regular attendants at the little Mission Chapel
and devoted friends of Padre Antonio Peyri. Whence had these and their
descendants gone? How had they been deprived of their lands? In
another chapter I have quoted from Frank J. Polley, how our California
laws aided and abetted the spoliators and how Pala unjustly came into
the possession of a white man.
Now it must be bought back again. There were 3,500 acres, with a large
amount of hilly government land that would be of use for pasturage and
that could be added to the full purchased land as a reservation. The
Commission claimed, and doubtless believed, there was plenty of water,
but it was not long before the supply was found to be so inadequate
that something had to be done to add to it. This has been done, as is
elsewhere related.
Congress passed the appropriation bill, made the purchase, May 27,
1902, setting the land aside as a permanent reservation. The Indian
Department, therefore, ordered the immediate transfer of the Indians
from Palatingua, as well as small bands from Puerta de la Cruz, Puerta
Chiquita, San José, San Felipe and Mataguaya--tiny settlements on the
fringe of Warner's Ranch and who were made parties to the ejectment
suit--to Pala.
Serious trouble was feared. Mr. Lummis wired for troops to aid in the
removal, although his duties as head of the Commission to choose a
home for the Indians gave him no authority to act in the matter. He
was thereupon ordered from the ranch, and the work of removal
committed to the care of a special agent, as Dr. L. A. Wright, the
regular Indian Agent, confessed his inability to cope with the
situation. Mrs. Babbitt, for many years the teacher at Warner's Ranch,
and other friends of the Indians counselled acquiescence to the law's
demand. I was invited both by the Indians and the Indian Commissioner
to be present at the removal, but I knew that it would be too much for
my equanimity, so I kept away. My friend Grant Wallace, however, was
present, and in _Out West_ magazine, for July, 1903, gave the
following pathetic account:
Night after night, sounds of wailing came from the adobe
homes of the Indians. When Tuesday (May 12) came, many of
them went to the little adobe chapel to pray, and then
gathered for the last time among the unpainted wooden crosses
within the rude stockade of their ancient burying ground, a
pathetic and forlorn group, to wail out their grief over the
graves of their fathers. Then hastily loading a little food
and a few valuables into such light wagons and surreys as
they owned, about twenty-five families drove away for Pala,
ahead of the wagon-train. The great four and six-horse wagons
were quickly loaded with the home-made furniture, bedding and
clothing, spotlessly clean from recent washing in the boiling
springs; stoves, ollas, stone mortars, window sashes, boxes,
baskets, bags of dried fruit and acorns, and coops of
chickens and ducks.
While I helped Lay-reader Ambrosio's mother to round up and
encoop a wary brood of chickens, I observed the wife of her
other son, Jesus, throwing an armful of books--spellers,
arithmetics, poems--into the bonfire, along with bows and
arrows, and superannuated aboriginal bric-a-brac. In reply to
a surprised query, she explained that now they hated the
white people and their religion and their books. Dogged and
dejected, Captain Cibemoat, with his wife Ramona, and little
girl, was the last to go. While I helped him hitch a bony
mustang to his top buggy, a tear or two coursed down his
knife-scarred face; and as the teamsters tore down his little
board cabin wherein he had kept a restaurant, he muttered,
"May they eat sand!"...
At their first stop for dinner they lingered long on the last
acre of Warner's Ranch, as though loath to go through the
gates. At night, at Oak Grove, they drew the first rations
ever issued to the Cupenos by the government--some at first
refused to accept them, saying they were not objects of
charity....
Although devout church members--scarcely a name among them
being unwashed by baptism--they refused the first Sunday to
hold services in the restored Pala Mission, or anywhere else,
asking surlily of the visiting priest, "What kind of a God is
this you ask us to worship, who deserts us when we need him
most?" Instead, thirty of them joined some swart friends from
Pauma in a "sooish amokat" or rabbit hunt, killing their game
with peeled clubs thrown unerringly while galloping at full
speed.
Monday, however, the principal men, better pleased after an
inspection of the fertile and beautiful valley of Pala, had a
flag-raising at the little school-house--the only building
now on the site of the projected village. An Indian girl
played the organ, and a score of dusky children--who will
compare favorably in intelligence with average white
youngsters--joined in singing the praises of "America--sweet
land of liberty." School was opened, and later a
policeman--young Antonio Chaves--was elected by popular vote.
[Illustration: The Pala Chapel and Campanile After Restoration by
the Landmarks Club.]
[Illustration: The Interior of Pala Chapel as it Appears Today.]
[Illustration: The Pala Bell Tower After Rebuilding.]
Thus came about the transfer of the Palatinguas to Pala. Though they
often longed for their old home it could not be denied, even by them,
that the location of Pala is ideal. It is literally surrounded by
mountains that seem to rise in huge overlapping rings, each circling
the diminutive valley. The Pala River flows through the settlement.
Almost every available foot of space is now under cultivation in that
part of the valley near by, and further down, along the river, where
the fields broaden out, many acres are yielding their rich and
valuable crops.
To the south may be seen the hospitable ranch-house--Agua Tibia--of
Lewis Utt, an attorney of San Diego, who divides his time between his
city office and his farm. Five thousand feet above cluster the pine
trees, the live oaks and other rich arboreal growths of Palomar, the
Mountain of the Dove. Nearby the rich olive orchards of John Fry
stretch out like silken flags of green. To the north, on the top of
the Pala grade, the Happy Valley ranch of A. M. Lobaugh is a
stopping-place for camper and tourist. To the west is the extensive
ranch of Monserrate.
There are few more beautiful inland locations in the world, and
climatically it is as perfect as it is scenically. For from the one
side come the breezes of the warm South Pacific ocean, laden with the
ozone and bromine of kelp-beds and with the refreshing tang of the
salt air, while from the other come the aseptic breezes of the desert,
God's great purifying laboratory, where, after being completely
purified, they are sent over the mountains, there to gather their
unseen but never-the-less beneficent and healthful burden of sweet
balsams and odors from the trees, shrubs and blossoms that glorify
their slopes and summits.
For awhile after their arrival at Pala they dwelt in tents, and then
occurred one of those inexplainable and inexcusable pieces of folly
that fills the heart of an intelligent man with contempt and almost
with despair. Cold weather was coming on. The Indians must be housed
erelong. One would have thought the sensible and obvious thing to do
would have been to engage the unoccupied Indians--for, of course, none
of them as yet had a thing to do--either to make adobe brick and build
their houses of them, or to buy lumber for the purpose from the
nearest place of supply. Instead of that what was done by the
dunder-headed officials at Washington? Even as I write it seems so
incredible that I can scarce believe it. These incompetent men
purchased, in New York, fifty flimsy, rickety, insecure, wretched
"portable" houses, sent them by freight, and ordered them put up as
the permanent homes of these unfortunate exiles. The amount of money
expended in these contemptible pretences for houses, and the freight
paid on them from the East, would have erected permanent buildings and
at the same time have provided paying occupation for the Indians
during their erection. Official stupidity seldom manifested itself
more clearly than in this instance.
Commenting upon the matter the government's own special agent
reported:
It was nearly six months before the Indians got into the
houses. The expense was double what wooden cabins built on
the spot would have been, and about four times the cost of
adobes.... The houses are neither dust-proof, wind-proof, nor
water-proof, and are far inferior to the despised adobes.
But the Indians made the best of them, and have gradually improved, or
replaced them with something better. Then the water question arose.
There was not enough for their needs. Eighteen thousand dollars was
first expended, and then more was called for. At last, in May, 1913,
the new irrigation system was completed, and a grand fiesta was held
to celebrate the opening.
The first teacher of the Palatinguas when they were removed to Pala
was Mrs. Josephine H. Babbitt, who for many years had been their
trusted friend at Warner's Ranch. But in those trying early days when
nerves were frayed, dispositions frazzled, and passions easily
aroused, her earnest and determined efforts to secure for her wards as
great a meed of justice as possible rendered her _persona non grata_
to some whose influence was powerful enough to secure her removal.
But it was not long before even this misfortune was made to work out
for the good of the Indians. Miss Ora Salmons, who was a teacher of
one of the near-by Indian schools, was appointed, and this year of our
Lord, sees her close her twenty-eighth year of faithful and happy
service among her dusky wards, many of which have been spent here at
Pala. With heart, mind and body attuned to her work she has truthfully
and poetically been termed "the little mother of the Indians."
Radiating brightness, sunshine, sympathy and love for her pupils, old
and young, she is strengthened in her daily task by the assurance that
she is making their life easier and happier, removing some of the
obstacles to their progress, and adding factors of strength and
self-reliance to their characters.