Reminiscences of Early Ojai (No. 10)

The following article first appeared in the January 3, 1973 edition of the Ojai Valley News. It is reprinted here with their permission. The article was written by Howard Bald. Bald used the same title for all of his articles.  So, the Ojai Valley Museum has added “No. 10” to the title.  All photos have been added by the Ojai Valley Museum.  

Reminiscences of Early Ojai (No. 10)
by
Howard Bald

It was always quite an occasion for mother, sister and me to drive to Ventura with the horse and buggy. The present highway did not exist then. The 15 mile drive down the Creek road with the numerous creek crossings took from one and a half to two hours, and the return trip from two to two and a half hours.

On the beach west of the Ventura pier we unhitched Charley and tied him to the rear of the buggy with a nose bag of rolled barley while we spread a blanket on the sand and ate our lunch.

The present direct route to Ventura didn’t go through until about 1917, so all travel was via the Creek road. From Nordhoff to Camp Comfort the road was much the same as it is today. But just below Camp Comfort it crossed the creek, then a mile or more beyond it recrossed the creek, finally emerging into the present highway at Arnaz, between the famous old Arnaz adobe and the present cider stand.

Camp Comfort on Creek Road.
Arnaz Adobe

The mail was carried by four horse stage, as was also express and other special items. Of course there was no refrigeration in those days, and ice was brought up by stage. It was said that on a hot day the stage could be trailed all the way from Ventura by the mark left on the dusty road by the melting ice. I think it was about 1907 that Mr. Houk (Fred Houk’s father) put in an ice plant.

“Isis Theater” on the left, probably the market and butcher shop in the center, and Walter E. Houk’s “Ice Plant” on the right.

There would be times in the winter when the stage would be held up for days because of high water. I think it was the winter of 1905-06 that the mail was held up for three weeks. It was that winter that Herb Lamb was the stage driver (Margaret Reimer’s father had the mail franchise then), and on one trip Lamb had his wife and infant among the passengers when the stage turned over in a creek crossing. The infant was swept away and never found.

There were other drownings in the streams in those days. One time (I believe it was 1914) a group of men over in Santa Ana (among them John Selby and Gird Percy) rode on horseback to the Matilija river canyon below Arnaz. One of the group ventured in, was swept away and never found.

I don’t remember what year it was that Bob Clark was living on the far side of the river and was stormed in when a baby was due. He had one saddle horse, “Dick,” that he would take a chance on. Dick got him across the river at what is now Casitas Springs. (We called it Stoney Flat in those days.) He took a team of horses and wagons from there, drove to Ventura and returned with Dr. Homer, as there was no telephone communication in those days. Old Dick carried the two back across the river. I believe Dr. Homer stayed three days before the baby was delivered. Dr. Homer is now retired to the Ojai.

Photo of Dr. Homer taken on August 11, 1951

Tom Clark had quite a reputation in those days for crossing roaring streams when no one else would venture in. There was one famous occasion about 1888 when he took a young lady and her trousseau over Sulphur Mountain with saddle and pack horses to Ventura, where she took a steamer to San Francisco. The young lady was Bessie Thacher, the aunt of Anson and Elizabeth Thacher.

Tom Clark

The valley had its highway tragedies in those days too, only they didn’t involve automobiles, but horses. Captain Gillette (who lived where Dr. Rupp’s office now is) was killed someplace near the present Country Club. Judge Hines went over a precipice near Topa Topa ranch with a team and buggy. Mrs. William McGuire, of the Upper Ojai, was thrown from a horse and killed on Ojai avenue. Chino Lopez, to keep warm, placed a coal lantern under the buggy robe (he was blind), the buggy went off the grade in Matilija Canyon and he burned to death.

A Thacher student boy in 1904 was thrown from his horse and dragged to death. A Gibson boy, whose family were Upper Ojai ranchers, was crushed by a falling horse. Then some time later the father, Mr. Gibson, was thrown from his buggy in a runaway and killed.

Reminiscences of Early Ojai (No. 6)

The following article was written by Howard Bald and appeared in the March 14, 1973 edition of the Ojai Valley News. It is reprinted here with their permission. The photo was added by the Ojai Valley Museum. Bald titled his many articles with the same title. So, this article has “(No. 6)” added by the Ojai Valley Museum.

Reminiscences of Early Ojai (No. 6)
by
Howard Bald

Clark, Thompson and Bracken were the Upper Ojai winery people. All were Irish immigrants. Nick Walnut was an Italian immigrant who cleared the land and planted his vineyard near what is now east Reeves road. Nick dug his own grave in his dooryard and was buried there at about the turn of the century. Now I am amused at rumors that a fortune was buried with him. He had left a family in the old country, but he willed the property to Will Thompson, then a boy of about ten years.

The wine mostly was hauled to the depot, either to Santa Paula or Nordhoff, in fifty gallon barrels with team and wagon and shipped to Los Angeles.

The last of the product was shipped to L.A. as vinegar and brought 15 cents a gallon. People used to quip that it was so strong it would burn a hole in the table cloth if a drop fell on it. We had linen table cloths in those days.

I mentioned the Italians who came to the winery to purchase wine. They mostly were wood choppers from off of Sulphur Mountain, for at that time cutting and shipping firewood to Los Angeles and Santa Barbara was quite an industry, and several fortunes, to my knowledge, were made. One of them was Huero Obioles, an old Spanish family. There are still descendants in Ventura county.

For a short period about that time Tom Clark and John Hobson, uncle of Mr. Fred Smith, had a wood camp where Perls Nursery stood and Clapp’s now is. Their operation extended from Villanova school to beyond the present Gourmet restaurant and over through Mira Monte to Rice road. [The Gourmet restaurant was located at 11432 Ventura. Boarded up now, it’s located between McDonald’s and Subway.] Fortunately, Meiners Oaks was never touched and neither was the arbolada, though Austin Pierpont recently told me that certain interests were negotiating for the wood rights to the Arbolada. He said that J.J. Burke, uncle of Bill Burke, learned of it and persuaded Foster and Hubby to buy the property. They were among builders of the Foothills hotel. They later sold it to Mr. Libbey. I believe they donated the land for Nordhoff high school that was built in 1911.

This piece of property was where "Perl's Nursery", then "Clapp's Nursery" used to be located many years ago. The property is located on the east side of Highway 33 in the commercial area of Mira Monte.
This piece of property was where “Perl’s Nursery”, then “Clapp’s Nursery” used to be located many years ago. The property is located on the east side of Highway 33 in the commercial area of Mira Monte.

Practically all of the oaks in the area from Villanova to the Gourmet restaurant is second growth, as well as all of the north side of Sulphur mountain.

The heavy wagons that transported wood from Sulphur mountain to Nordhoff for shipment to L.A. and the loads of grain played havoc with the grade from the upper to the lower valleys. It was a shorter and steeper grade than the present Dennison grade.

As a great deal of braking was necessary, the brake shoe quickly wore thin and became ineffective. So the teamsters would run one rear wagon wheel onto an iron shoe that was attached to the bed of the wagon. The wheel was rendered immobile as the shoe slid on the rocky dirt road. It, of course, was a very effective brake, but it gouged a deep rut in the dirt road, and the dust was almost intolerable.

In addition to that, the heat generated by the friction could cause sparks to start a fire should one land in the dry grass. Naturally those teamsters were not popular with the ordinary horse and buggy people.

I have in recent years hunted unsuccessfully through the scrap heaps of Upper Ojai farms in quest of one of those “brake shoes.” It would make a real addition to our historical museum. I doubt that there are many today who have ever seen one. The last one that I saw was at the Knott’s Berry Farm Historical Museum.

Friends of Howard Bald gather in his memory

The following article first appeared in the July 12, 1981 edition of the Ojai Valley News. It is reprinted here with their permission.  Photos have been added by the Ojai Valley Museum.  

Friends of Howard Bald Gather in His Memory
by
Bob Bryan

One thing is certain – you can’t be in two places at the same time. Up there in the High Sierras, I couldn’t be part of the coming-together that Otto and Vivika Heino had for Howard Bald, their neighbor, last week.

It was done with the simple high style and sense of joy that Vivika always brings to an occasion. In the breezeway of the house that Beatrice Wood built brick by brick, the friends of Howard Bald gathered to do him honor and celebrate the memory of the man. Perched on the wall were three Western-style hats of Howard’s that the Heinos had inherited, as well as a composition in weeds that Vivika had fashioned. Everybody brought something to the occasion, including memories to be shared. What was to be honored was not only a man but a way of life, now by and large gone.

This photo is suspected to have been taken of Howard Bald at his home located at 917 McAndrew Road in Ojai when he was a middle-aged man. His home overlooked the Ojai Valley from the East End of the valley.
This photo is suspected to have been taken of Howard Bald at his home located at 917 McAndrew Road in Ojai when he was a middle-aged man. His home overlooked the Ojai Valley from the East End of the valley.

Connie Wash spoke of the man and Peggy Thacher brought a letter she had written back in the days of World War I when patriotic girls had been urged to write the doughboys over in France. Howard Bald, who may well have sensed the senselessness of the slaughter of this “war to end all wars,” treasured that letter that Peggy Thacher as an 8-year-old child, had written him. He brought it home with him from overseas and gave it back to the girl who had written it.

After vittles in the breezeway, the friends gathered, in the cool of the evening just about when the “pink moment” settled on the hills, around the pool in the patio. Remember that time, someone said, when there was a fire across McAndrew Road and Howard came rushing out of his house and put it out? And how about that time, late at night, when Beatrice Wood, that eternal virgin of the spirit, thought that a car parked in front of her house was a threat to her purity? It did not move and finally, in her fright, Beato called good neighbor Howard Bald. He came out, brandishing a pistol, much as he might have gone “over the top” from one of the trenches in Flanders. What he found was a young couple engaged in some heavy petting, as it was called in those days, or making out, as it is described in these days.

Howard Bald at Pierpont Cottages in 1916. Notice that Bald has a holstered pistol on his waistband.
Howard Bald at Pierpont Cottages in 1916. Notice that Bald has a holstered pistol on his waistband.

A high point of the festivities was the tale often told about the Pierpont boys, Phil and Austin, those hellraisers of a former time. Turned out they had one of the first of those con-sarn horseless carriages in the valley and they drove lickety-split all about the place. Howard Bald, on horseback, vowed that he would get those Pierpont boys for making such a ruckus, and frightening his horse. But as it turned out he didn’t need to worry. Fate took care of those Pierpont boys and Howard didn’t have to take a bead on them.HOWARD BALD believed, for sure, that citizens should be allowed to carry arms and fire them when the occasion demanded. When the blue jays and other predators of his fruit and vegetable rows got too greedy, Howard would suddenly appear and fire his trusty double-barreled shotgun into the air and, momentarily, scatter those varmints. Howard, as an ex-doughboy, may have, from time to time, fired his piece into the air for the simple joy of it. It certainly used to scare hell out of Ann McGarrity, his neighbor up the hill.

"H Bald at Tom Grays about 1907" is written along the top of this photo.
“H Bald at Tom Grays about 1907” is written along the top of this photo.
Bill Herbert (left) and Howard Bald (right) at the Pine Mountain Lodge in about 1914. Erle Stanley Gardner took the photo while the three were on a deer hunting trip.
Bill Herbert (left) and Howard Bald (right) at the Pine Mountain Lodge in about 1914. Erle Stanley Gardner took the photo while the three were on a deer hunting trip.

After the horror of World War I, Howard settled to a life of the good things and the good neighborliness. Two wives blessed him and he blessed them. And in his neighbors, such as Beato and Vivika and Otto Heino he was especially blessed. During his final days, it had become his custom of an evening to walk over, with his vial of whiskey, which he insisted on bringing, to the Heinos and there share drinks.

Howard Bald (center) at his 89th birthday party which was held at Harriet and John Kennedy's home on June 20, 1978. Bald graduated from Nordhoff High School in 1913. He died in November o 1978. Albert Leslie is at the photo's left side.
Howard Bald (center) at his 89th birthday party which was held at Harriet and John Kennedy’s home on June 20, 1978. Bald graduated from Nordhoff High School in 1913. He died in November of 1978. Albert Leslie is on the photo’s left side.

Reminiscences of Early Ojai (No. 5)

The following article was written by Howard Bald and appeared in the May 2, 1973 edition of the Ojai Valley News. It is reprinted here with their permission.  Bald used the same title for many of his articles, so the Ojai Valley Museum added “(No. 5)” to distinguish this particular article.

Reminiscences of Early Ojai (No. 5)
by
Howard Bald

The back country men and their fall cattle drives were the most picturesque and exciting of all to me. Along in November the cattle for market would be rounded up, and those in the upper Cuyama valley would be driven via trail over Pine Mountain to the upper Sespe, where they would join with the Sespe cattle and those from the upper Santa Ynez.

There being no highways and trucks, the cattle were driven single file from the Sespe through Cherry Canyon over Ortega Hill into the north fork of the Matilija and down to Ortega Ranch – some six miles above the upper edge of Matilija lake. There they camped the second night.

From the Matilija Hot Springs on to Ventura it was easy going, for they had a road to travel. What is now Casitas Springs was known as Stony Flat, and was a large hay field. There the cattle were held overnight and the next day delivered to lima bean fields east of Ventura, where they became the property of the Hobson brothers, Will and Abe, the fathers respectively of Mrs. Edith Hoffman and Mrs. Grace Smith (all deceased).

The Matilija school children were alerted well in advance by the bawling cattle and shouting cowboys, as they forded the stream some 100 yards above the school. School would be dismissed until the last yip of the cowboys died away down the dusty road.

Among the cattlemen on these drives were, of course, various Reyes boy – Rudolpho, Anselmo, Peter and Rafael. Then there were the Wegis brothers, Frand and Gebhard. They were all from Cuyama.

From the Sespe and the upper Santa Ynez were the Eduardo Canet cowboys and various homesteaders, among them Ygnacio Ramos, the Warner brothers (Dave and Jack), Ramon Cota, Manuel Lopez. Perhaps the most colorful of them were the Ortega brothers, grandfather and great uncles of Milito Ortega, Ventura’s ex-postmaster.

There were many legends of their exploits in that rough country. Ramon Ortega in 1914 at the age of 82 went over a bluff, and both he and his horse were killed. He had always said he would die back there, and that he didn’t want to be packed out like a dead deer. Jacinto Reyes (he was always affectionately known as J.D.) packed uncle Ramon out sitting upright on a saddle horse as he had always wished to be brought out.

As I have mentioned, the Matilija school stood on the east bank of the river. Water was carried up in a galvanized bucket. All drank from the one tin cup. One small, battered tin basin served for washing our hands, and naturally there was a minimum of that.

There was a theory this creek water was soon purified in its flow over rocks and through sand and gravel. So there was no concern over contamination by sewage from the several resorts above.

My sister’s attendance at that school was of short duration for when mother discovered some foreign objects crawling in her hair there was something of a scene. There was one boy, Mike, that Margaret was quite fond of, but following this episode, she told him she didn’t wish to play with him anymore, that he was lousy. Mike replied: “No, Maggie, I ain’t had no louses for a month.”

Shortly after that Margaret returned to Nordhoff, while I continued attending Matilija regardless. Our home, Rancho Rinconada, was just midway between both schools. J.D. Reyes and I gave the ranch that name.

Reminiscences of Early Ojai (No. 4)

The following article was written by Howard Bald and appeared in the March 28, 1973 edition of the Ojai Valley News. It is reprinted here with their permission. Photos have been added by the Ojai Valley Museum. Bald used the same title for many of his articles. So the Ojai Valley Museum added “(No. 4)” to distinguish this particular article. 

Reminiscences of Early Ojai (No. 4)
by
Howard Bald

In 1898 the Santa Barbara National Forest (now Los Padres) was created with the headquarters in Nordhoff. Willis M. Slosson was sent out from the east as supervisor. The boundaries extended from Castaic up into San Luis Obispo county and north into Kern county.

This old residence on S. Signal Street was Ojai's original United States Forest Service headquarters when Ojai was still named Nordhoff. At present, S. Signal ends at the City of Ojai's public works yard. But, before the yard was there, S. Signal Street ran down the hill and connected with Creek Road.
This old residence on S. Signal Street might be Ojai’s original United States Forest Service headquarters when Ojai was still named Nordhoff. At present, S. Signal ends at the City of Ojai’s public works yard. Before the yard was there, S. Signal Street ran down the hill and connected with Creek Road.

Men were recruited from all parts of “back country,” and they were largely homesteaders, cowboys, miners and such. Their pay was $60 per month. They had to own at least two horses and maintain them. Generally the ranger (they were all rangers then) had to provide his own quarters. There were no fringe benefits.

With Nordhoff the national forest headquarters, and since the only means of getting about was via saddle and pack horses, there was a great deal of forestry activity in the valley, that is, mountain men coming and going. A more rugged, hardy, self-sufficient, picturesque group of men would be hard to imagine. Though as a whole they were rather short on formal education, they accomplished a prodigious amount in the way of trail building, and maintaining, investigating mines and homesteads, issuing grazing permits and performing fire suppression.

They were deputy and game commissioners.

Of course there were no telephones at first, no lookout stations, no airplanes or helicopters, or radios, and but few trails. Sometimes a ranger would ride a day or more to get to a fire. The nearest ranger to a fire might recruit a few men – homesteaders, cattlemen or miners, and with just a few simple tools attack the fire.

One wonders now how they accomplished so much with so few men and little equipment, when one hears of the hundreds of men, bombers, fire engines and other sophisticated equipment that is employed to suppress the same fires today -–and at a cost of hundreds of thousands of dollars.

Among some of the more colorful men of that period was Jacinto Reyes, who to this day is a legend among people in the back country, not only for his fire fighting but also for his horsemanship, endurance, rescue work and ability to settle sometimes violent disputes among homesteaders, cattlemen or miners. Then there were his brother Geraldo Reyes, Fred Ortega (father of ex-Ventura postmaster Melito Ortega) and Fred de la Riva. There were what we called in that day “California Spanish.” They were great horsemen and very capable.

Forest Rangers at a backcountry camp, circa 1906. Far right, Howard Bald; next to him is Jacinto Reyes, then Bob Clark. Others unidentified.
Forest Rangers at a backcountry camp, circa 1906. Far right, Howard Bald; next to him is Jacinto Reyes, then Bob Clark. Others unidentified.

My father, George Bald, became one of them in 1903 and until the mid-twenties was chief ranger of this area. Trever Isenberg, Jerome Larmer, Bob Clark, Bob Miller, Bill Herbert, the Leiber brothers, Tom Dunsmore, Gene Johnson were among others of that day I remember. They were what one might call, at that time, “real westerners.”

George Bald (center).
George Bald, center. Others unidentified.

Sarah McMullen was a nurse who came to take care of Loring Farnum, a semi-invalid who bought our Rinconada ranch (J.D. Reyes and I gave it that name), later the Orchid Ranch, which is now owned by Camp Ramah. She always began the story with: “The worst fright I ever had was being confronted at Mr. Farnum’s front door by three of the awfullest looking men I ever had laid eyes on!” Then there would be a detailed description of the three. “Two were huge, very dark complexioned men with high cheek bones and dark, piercing eyes. The third man was short with a sandy complexion and legs like a pair of ice tongs….”

The refrain would be: “And that was your father….They wore broad brimmed, low crowned hats and red bandanas, and, of course, were unshaven. They curtly asked to see Mr. Farnum. I was trembling so, ” said Sarah, “I could hardly speak when I went back to Mr. Farnum’s room and said there are three of the most terrible men I ever saw who said they want to see you. Mr. Farnum said, “Well, show them in!”

As I pictured the scene, Jacinto and Gerald Reyes and my dad were returning from a week camping in the mountains. They were tired, dusty and, of course, thirsty, and they knew that Mr. Farnum was always generous with the drinks.

Old postcard showing early United States Forest Service rangers gathered for a barbeque at Matilija Hot Springs which is only a few miles outside of the Ojai Valley in Ventura County, California.
Old postcard showing early United States Forest Service rangers gathered for a barbeque at Matilija Hot Springs which is only a few miles outside of the Ojai Valley in Ventura County, California.

Reminiscences of Early Ojai (No. 3)

The following article was written by Howard Bald and appeared in the April 25, 1973 edition of the Ojai Valley News. It is reprinted here with their permission. Photos have been added by the Ojai Valley Museum. Bald used the same title for his many articles. So the Ojai Valley Museum has added “(No. 3)” to this one. 

Reminiscences of Early Ojai (No. 3)
by
Howard Bald

Presumably El Toro Road in the Arbolada got its name from the slaughter house that once existed in that vicinity just off Foothills Road. When people began to build along Foothills Road, the offensive slaughter house was moved to Del Norte Road across from the cemetery. All meat for the valley was dressed at the slaughter house.

El Toro Road runs through the Arbolada from Foothill Road to Del Norte Road. It was, presumably, named "El Toro Road" because it once led to a slaughterhouse. "El Toro" is Spanish meaning "The Bull".
El Toro Road runs through the Arbolada from Foothill Road to Del Norte Road. It was, presumably, named “El Toro Road” because it once led to a slaughterhouse. “El Toro” is Spanish meaning “The Bull”.

Three times a week the meat wagon, a covered wagon drawn by two horses, made the round of the east end of the valley, stopping at all the homes and ranches in that vicinity. Among them were W.C. Hendrickson, Fred Udhall, Pierpont Cottages, Dr. Hollingsworth, the Lords (parents of Denham Lord), A.L. Dodge, Thacher School, the McAndrews, E.S. Thacher and the Jim Chapmans.

On the alternate day the wagon went to the Upper Ojai, and among those served were the Dennisons, Clarks, Hobarts, Thompsons, Robinsons, MacGuires, Grays, Burnells, Pinkertons and Brackens. There were doubtless others.

Annie Pinkerton always had a nice piece of pie for the meat man. Houk had a very good butcher, but he couldn’t resist Jimmie Braken’s wine at the upper end of his route. Fred Houk tells me that his father used to send him along to drive the team home when he had imbibed too heavily.

What I remember in particular was the butcher letting the wagon tail gate down (it served as a cutting and packaging block) and in the summer the flies swarming in. When the customer was served, the butcher with his flour sack apron would swish the flies away, then hurriedly close the end gate.

All that I remember about the price of meat was that 15 cents worth of round steak was sufficient for a family of four, with a tidbit for the family dog.

As well as I can remember, there was no regular dairy with milk delivery until about 1915-18. But a great many people had a family cow, sometimes two or three, and they would sell to neighbors a quart or so now and then. When there was a surplus of milk, some would make butter and exchange it for groceries. Since the churning and working of the butter was by hand, that is, separating the milk from the butter and molding it, and there was no refrigeration, the product very quickly became rancid. And of course, the milk would sour very readily. Among those that I delivered to were the Pratts, Libbeys and Robertsons.

Certain townspeople were essentially the same as of today. Now as I drive over those confusing roads, my wife wonders how I know where I am going. I reply that considering the dark nights I combed the park for a stray cow, I should know my way about.

And what I remember about sanitation, or lack of sanitation, in the production and handling of milk and butter would fill quite a volume. I am sure much of the same would apply to meat. I was familiar with that business for several years before the Houks came to Nordhoff and installed refrigeration.

The grocer did not dispense eggs in nice, clean cartons as we know them. Generally, the eggs were a week or more in accumulating. And generally they were fertile. There was no candling, so not infrequently an egg on being opened would reveal an embryo — not very appetizing.

One of the town rowdies could crow like a rooster, and in the middle of the night would get the many, many neighborhood roosters started to crowing, thus setting off a general chorus. Naturally he was not popular with the neighbors.

Early Stories of Ojai, Part VII (Downtown Nordhoff)

Early Stories of Ojai, Part VII (Downtown Nordhoff) by Howard Bald
Written in 1972 by longtime Ojai resident Howard Bald.

Main Street of Nordhoff

Nordhoff (now Ojai) has generally been described as a quiet, peaceful little place, and generally it was. Several oak trees strung along Main Street from Tom Clark’s livery stable [Ojai Village Pharmacy] to Schroff’s harness shop [Ojai Cleaners] furnished the only shade, for there was no arcade until 1917.

There were three gaps in the row of buildings on the north side of Main Street. One was between Lagomarsino’s saloon and Archie McDonald’s blacksmith shop at the east end of the business block [the Hub], and Barrow’s hardware store stood alone. There was an alley on both the east and west side of that building, which I think was the site of the present hardware store [Rains].

Corner of Montgomery and Main looking west.

The east alley was used by pedestrians. I think the board sidewalk prevented vehicles going through. But the sidewalk ended at the west corner of Barrow’s hardware, so that alley was quite generally used by horsemen as well as pedestrians.

West of that alley was Bray’s plumbing shop, and from there on to Signal street was the livery stable with its buggy sheds, corrals, and hay sheds. West of Signal on the site of the Oaks Hotel stood a small, whitewashed, clapboard building where Chet Cagnacci was born at the turn of the century and later, I believe, Tommie Clark.

Corner of Signal and Main, looking east.

Across the street about the site of Van Dyke’s Travel Agency [Library Book Store] stood Dave Raddick’s residence, then easterly a break then the meat market [The Jester]. On the southwest corner of Signal and Main was The Ojai newspaper printing office where the theater now stands and easterly across the street, where the present post office is located, was Charley Gibson’s blacksmith shop. There was a gap between the blacksmith shop and Lauch Orton’s plumbing shop, the barber shop and post office. Through that gap could be seen the Berry Villa, which is now the Post office employee parking place.

A little distance east of the post office, briefly, stood C.B. Stevens little grocery store, then the entrance and exit to the Ojai Inn, which is now our city park. A leaky, redwood horse trough and a hitch rail extended onto the barranca. It was always shady, and teams of horses and buggies were customarily tied there while the out of town folks did their shopping.

The Ojai Inn.

I once had a Plymouth Rock hen who would bring her brood through the alley between the saloon and blacksmith shop to scratch around where the horses were tied. Sometimes she would miscalculate and be overtaken by darkness, so hen and chicks would simply fly up on a vacant spot on the hitch rail and settle down for the night. Our stable and chicken coop was just back of Dr. Hirsch’s office [Dr. Phelps], and more than once at about bedtime, I would carry them back to their own nest.

Schroff’s harness shop east of the barranca stood high enough from the ground that one could step from a saddle horse onto the porch, which was convenient for ladies riding sidesaddle to dismount and mount.

The corner of South Montgomery and Main was open and was used mainly by Thacher boys to tie their

Presbyterian Church on southeast corner of Main & Montgomery.

horses while attending services at the Presbyterian church, which then stood where [Jersey Mike’s] parking lot now is. That building is now the Nazarene Church [Byron Katie’s headquarters] on N. Montgomery and Aliso.

I could go on and on and on with details of the village of Nordhoff at the turn of the century, but I fear that would become too boring, so I will get on with some of my memories of the activities of the time.

Early Stories of Ojai, Part VI (More on the Ojai Train)

Early Ojai Stories, Part VI (More on Ojai Train) by Howard Bald
Howard Bald describes life in turn-of-the-century Ojai in these articles from 1972.

The Ojai-Ventura Train.

There were other incidents in connection with the “Ojai Flier” or”The Cannon Ball” that might be worth mentioning. One of the train crew lived with his family on Signal Street, the old two-story house now occupied by a masseur [Inn Harmony]. His daughters in the evening would hitch the old white mare to the buggy and park them near the side door. When they heard the train whistle in the distance, one or all three daughters would jump in the buggy and dash off to meet their daddy.

One evening a daughter went out, and finding no horse and buggy waiting, decided that one of the other sisters had gone alone and thought nothing of it. When father checked out from his “run”, he found the horse and buggy in the customary place. After looking around and finding no daughters, he drove home alone. Later it was revealed that the old white mare was seen jogging down Signal, up Main Street to Fox, and down to the depot on her own.

A few years later my young sister decided to make Peggy, our two year old colt, acquainted with the train. Margaret was riding bareback with only a hackamore. Peggy took a pretty dim view of the hissing monster, putting on quite a scene, and at one time was in the middle of someone’s buggy. But through it all, Margaret stayed astride her.

A horse and buggy in downtown Nordhoff.

One time I was sent from the livery stable with a horse and buggy to meet a domestic of the Edward Thachers on Topa Topa Ranch coming in on the train. It was winter and, of course, dark when the train came in. We soon had the old gal and her belongings loaded and were off up Ojai Avenue. By the time we turned off onto Reeves Road (it wasn’t much more than a narrow, winding, rocky trail then and I don’t believe it had a name) the poor old Scandinavian was having some misgivings as to the reliability of her escort. She couldn’t understand why I didn’t drive faster.

I did my best to reassure her, pointing out that the road was rocky and narrow. When we turned up McAndrew road and the horse travelled even slower, she was really convinced that I was lost. There was nothing, though, that she could do, for it was pitch dark and I don’t suppose she even ha a pair of reins in her hands. It probably wasn’t eight o’clock when we drove into Topa Topa yard, and Mr. and Mrs. Thacher appeared with coal oil lanterns. But that lady, I guess, considered it a harrowing experience.

It was wintertime when once my mother, my sister and I were going someplace by train. As we groped our way on foot from Signal to Fox Street in the dim dawn, we heard the locomotive give some sharp whistles, but we sauntered along until we discovered the train was at the Fox Street crossing. Mr. Spence, the engineer, knew we were no aboard and was waiting there for us.

Another time most of Nordhoff went to Santa Barbara to a circus. We arrived via train in Ventura at 7 a.m. and had quite a wait there for another train, but were in Santa Barbara in time for the parade, saw the afternoon performance, then took a southbound train back to Ventura, arriving in time to catch the Ojai Flier home. I am not sure but what it had to wait for us in Ventura.

Mr. Spence, the engineer, was a kindly old gentleman, and once he took me with him on the locomotive, a cod burner, to Los Angeles and back, a two-day trip with 24 hours of travel. It was one of the events of my young life (I was probably 10 then), but alas it was somewhat marred by my introduction to indoor plumbing. I had never seen or heard of anything of the kind, and the whole thing was too embarrassing for words. No one knew how I suffered. Mr. Spence doubtless thought me a very unresponsive and unappreciative youngster. It was my first experience with electric lights, too. In the center of each room a cord hung from the fixture in the ceiling.

Well, so much for railroading. We will next dwell on the village of Nordhoff.

Early Stories of Ojai, Part V (The Ojai Train)

Waiting for the train to arrive.

Early Stories of Ojai, Part V (The Ojai Train) by Howard Bald
Howard Bald recounted life at turn-of-the-century Ojai in these articles from 1972.

Much has been written over the years about leading citizens of the Ojai Valley and their contributions to the community. What I propose to do is to try and present a picture of the everyday citizen, something of what life was like at the turn of the century and the decade that followed, of some of the industry and activities that have long been forgotten.

Unfortunately, there are not many left to help me on points that have become dim in my memory. I trust, though, that there will be no more inaccuracies in my statements than there have been in statements made by people who are better qualified to be historians than I am.

For instance, at the dedication of the new post office a few years ago it was stated that the new building stands on the same spot the post office stood at the turn of the century. Another person in her memoirs stated that Ojai (Nordhoff) never had a saloon. Also the Ojai newspaper wrote an account of Mr. Gridley murdering a Basque sheepherder in the Sespe. All of which I know to be absolutely inaccurate. But more on those subjects later.

Now it is not my purpose to start right in criticizing others, but to show how easy it is to make misstatements. I will doubtless make my share of them.

Arriving in the village of Nordhoff (Ojai was Nordhoff until the time of the first World War) in the spring of 1900, I was a scrawny, squint-eyed eight yar old with a supposedly short time to live because of TB. The long severe winters of northern Washington and Idaho kept me wrapped up in bed a good part of the year, so a mild climate with plenty of freedom was recommended by the doctors.

Well, I took full advantage of the freedom and in that way gained a wider knowledge of what was going on than the average boy of that time.

One of the things that stands out in my memory was the Nordhoff train. It was not until I had grown up that I realized that the train had arrived only two years before my arrival in the Ojai Valley.

Two trains plied between Los Angeles and Nordhoff. As the train left Nordhoff at 6 am, its sister train left Los Angeles. They crossed at Moorpark, where the crews had their lunches, then continued on to their respective destinations. So each train took 12 hours to make the one way journey.

On long summer evenings one popular source of entertainment for certain men, boys and dogs was to sit on the board sidewalk, where the arcade is now, and at the sound of the train whistle down near Grants Station [where Rotary Park is now], all would take off on a trot for the [Nordhoff] Depot.

Near Schroff’s Harness Shop (where the Ojai Cleaners now is) we cut down Montgomery Street and below the lumber yard, now Wachters, we went across to Fox Street.

At the same time the Matilija Hot Spring’s big lumbering overland stage, driven by either John Oretega, Bill Olivas (father of the Billy Olivas who is currently making headlines at Matilija Hot Springs) or Bob Clark would wheel in a cloud of dust, followed by Wheeler Blumberg with his four white horses hitched to a four-seated buckboard. Nordhoff’s taxi, which comprised a team of horses attached to a buckboard, would be there along with an assortment of country folk with a horse and buggy to meet incoming friends or family.

The Matilija Stage

As the train crossed S. Ventura, S. Montgomery and Fox streets huffing and puffing, with steam jetting from both sides and the bell clanging, there was general pandemonium, for many of the country horses were terrified of such a monster and resorted to lunging, bucking and rearing. Not infrequently would be heard snap of a buggy shaft or a wagon tongue amid the barking of dogs and shouting of women and children on the ground greeting incoming family.

When the Matilija and Wheeler Hot Springs guests were all loaded there would be a popping of four horse whips, as the stages departed through town on a dead run. In later years I have wondered just when the horses settled down to a jog trot, for certainly they couldn’t endure such breakneck speed for long.

The Taxi

Finally as broken harness and buggy shafts were mended and the more terrified horses were led out across the bridge and all the passengers had departed, the boys and dogs would straggle off to their respective homes and the men back to their visiting along the boardwalk or to Dave Raddick’s pool room. I don’t believe the patron’s of John Lagomarsinoa’s card house were ever diverted from their evenings carousel by the arrival of a train.

Early Stories of Ojai, Part IV (Nordhoff Rangers)

Early Stories of Ojai, Part IV (Nordhoff Rangers) by Howard Bald

Note: Howard Bald was an early Ojai resident. His reminiscences were written in the early 1970s.

In 1898 the Santa Barbara National Forest (now Los Padres) was created with headquarters in Nordhoff. Willis M. Slosson was sent out from the east as supervisor. The boundaries extended from Castaic up into San Luis Obispo County and north into Kern County.

Men were recruited from all parts of the back country, and they were largely homesteaders, cowboys, miners, and such. Their pay was $60 per month. They had to own at least two horses and maintain them. Generally the ranger (they were all rangers then) had to provide his own quarters. There were no fringe benefits.

With Nordhoff the national forest headquarters, and since the only means of getting around was via saddle and pack horses, there was a great deal of forestry activity in the valley, that is, mountain men coming and going. A more rugged, hardy, self-sufficient, picturesque group of men would be hard to imagine. Though as a whole they were rather short on formal education, they accomplished a prodigious amount in the way of trail building, and maintaining, investigating mines and homesteads, issuing grazing permits and performing fire suppression.

They were also deputy and game commissioners.

Of course thee were no telephones at first, no lookout stations, no airplanes or helicopters, or radios, and but few trails. Sometimes a ranger would ride a day or more to get to a fire. The nearest ranger to a fire might recruit a few men—homesteaders, cattlemen or miners, and with just a few simple tools attack the fire.

One wonders now how they accomplished so much with so few men and little equipment, when one hears of the hundreds of men, bombers, fire engines and other sophisticated equipment that is employed to suppress the same fires today and at a cost of hundreds of thousands of dollars.

Among some of the more colorful men of that period was Jacinto Reyes, who to this day is a legend among people in the back country, not only for his fire fighting but also for his horsemanship, endurance, rescue work, and ability to settle sometimes violent disputes among homesteaders, cattlemen, or miners. Then there were his brother Geraldo Reyes, Frank Ortega (father of ex-Ventura postmaster Melito Ortega) and Fred de la Riva. They were what we called in that day “California Spanish.” They were great horsemen and very capable.

My father, George Bald, became one of them in 1903 and until the mid-twenties was chief ranger of this area. Trever Isenberg, Jerome Larmer, Bob Clark, Bob Miller, Bill Herbert, the Leiber brothers, Tom Dunsmore, Gene Johnson were among others of that day I remember. They were what one might call, at that time, “real Westerners.”

There is, to me, an amusing story that might give an idea of how that breed of men could impress the uninitiated easterner. In later years it was recounted to me many times.

Sarah McMullen was a nurse who came to take care of Loring Farnum, a semi-invalid who bought our Rinconada Ranch (J.D. Reyes and I gave it that name), later the Orchid Ranch, which is now owned by Camp Ramah. She always began the story with: “The worst fright I ever had was being confronted at Mr. Farnum’s front door by three of the awfullest looking men I ever laid eyes on!” Then there would be a detailed description of the three. “Two were huge, very dark complexioned men with high cheek bones and dark, piercing eyes. The third man was short with a sandy complexion and legs like a pair of ice tongs.” The refrain would be: “And that was your father!”

They wore broad-brimmed, low-crowned hats and red bandanas, and, of course, were unshaven. They curtly asked to see Mr. Farnum. I was trembling so,” said Sarah, “I could hardly speak when I went back to Mr. Farnum’s room and said there are three of the most terrible men I ever saw who said they want to see you. Mr. Farnum said, ‘Well, show them in!'”

As I pictured the scene, Jacinto and Geraldo Reyes and my dad were returning from a week camping in the mountains. They were tired, dusty and, of course, thirsty, and they knew that Mr. Farnum was always generous with the drinks.

“Reminiscences of Early Ojai” by Howard Bald, 1973