Intangible Spirit of The Ojai (No. 1)

The following article first appeared in a newspaper on November 22, 1961 that, eventually, became the “Ojai Valley News”. It is reprinted here with the permission of the “Ojai Valley News”. The author is Ed Wenig. Wenig wrote a series titled “Intangible Spirit of The Ojai”, but failed to title each of his articles in the series. So the “Ojai Valley Museum” has added “(No. 1)” to the title.

Intangible Spirit of The Ojai (No. 1)
by
Ed Wenig

Little six year-old Rudolfo Reyes desperately clung behind his brother Pedro as they rode in a long pack train to their Cuyama home. The year was 1894. Don Rafael Reyes, his wife Maria and their 10 children, all on horseback with a long string of pack animals, were wending their way from Ventura to the Matilija Canyon, up the north fork to Cherry Creek, then over hill and dale to the adobe ranch home. This trail was the only way to reach their destination from Ventura. The present highway was not a reality until the early thirties.

On the large cattle ranch Rudolfo’s older brothers had the exciting job of herding and branding cattle in the spring and fall roundups. Of course, branding in those days consisted of the time-honored method of roping, throwing to the ground, tying, and applying the branding iron to the struggling beast — a far cry from the modern use of the narrowing corral and the chute with the animal locked in fore and aft. Vaqueros from neighboring ranches helped each other. Rudolfo had the original branding iron, in the shape of a wine glass, and also the original registration papers issued to his father, Don Rafael, in 1858.

RUDOLFO REYES — Cuyama Vaquero ready to hang up his saddle after 40 years as a cattleman.

All the hardships of the early California pioneers were part of the isolated Reyes Rancho, even into the early part of this century. With only a trail over the mountains to Ventura, and a rough and tortuous wagon road to Bakersfield, acquiring the necessities of life and the care of the sick were a problem. The round trip to Bakersfield by wagon to bring 40 sacks of flour took three or more days.

As in the case of most of the old early California ranches, the latch string was always out for strangers who often stayed overnight. Good and bad people were welcome, with no questions asked. Says Rudolfo: “Once a man working for my father turned out to be an outlaw who had killed several men. When he heard “the law” was after him, he climbed up into the attic of the old adobe. Here he waited as the officers came in. His guns were at “the ready” as they searched the ranch. The officers went away and the outlaw skipped out!”

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.

THE SPANISH SETTLERS

The following article is from the book “Portrait of a Community –– Ojai: Yesterdays and Todays” by Ellen Malino James.  It is reprinted here with the permission of the publisher, Ojai Valley News.

THE SPANISH SETTLERS
By Ellen Malino James

For services performed in the Buenaventura Mission, Fernando Tico obtained Rancho Ojay in 1837 as a land grant from the Mexican government which had only a few years before secularized the missions and all the lands held by the church. Tico was born in San Francisco where his father, a native Catalonia, had come as a volunteer soldier for the King of Spain. In 1853, shortly after California was admitted to the Union, Tico sold his entire holdings in Ojai, some 18,000 acres, to speculators for a few thousand dollars.

Don Fernando Tico circa 1840, a decade after he settled in Ojai. (photo courtesy of Juanita Rodriguez Callendar, who is a direct descendant of the Tico family, and OVM)
Don Fernando Tico circa 1840, a decade after he settled in Ojai. (photo courtesy of Juanita Rodriguez Callendar, who is a direct descendant of the Tico family, and OVM)

 

One of Don Fernando Tico's sons, Edward. (photo courtesy of Juanita Rodriguez Callendar and OVM)
One of Don Fernando Tico’s sons, Edward. (photo courtesy of Juanita Rodriguez Callendar and OVM)

 

One of Don Fernando Tico's sons, Fernando. (photo courtesy of Juanita Rodriguez Callendar and OVM)
One of Don Fernando Tico’s sons, Fernando. (photo courtesy of Juanita Rodriguez Callendar and OVM)

 

Eldefrida Tico married William Elwell of Ventura. (photo courtesy of Juanita Rodriguez Callendar and OVM)
Eldefrida Tico married William Elwell of Ventura. (photo courtesy of Juanita Rodriguez Callendar and OVM)

 

Jose Ignacio Rodriguez, grandson of Don Fernando Tico. (photo courtesy of Juanita Rodriquez Callendar and OVM)
Jose Ignacio Rodriguez, grandson of Don Fernando Tico. (photo courtesy of Juanita Rodriquez Callendar and OVM)

The Spanish, who first came to this coast in the sixteenth century, discovered in Alta California a climate much like that of the Mediterranean, the land heavy with the grapevine and other fruit, flowers, and honey. Even after Mexico established a separate republic from Spain in the 1820s, the Spanish at Ventura continued to identify with the Californio, not the Mexico, experience. With Tico’s arrival in Ojai, this valley became a Spanish town, part of the California regional expression of rancho life. When the United States acquired California by war with Mexico in 1848, the Spanish character of the region remained unchanged until several years after the American Civil War in the 1860s when the first Anglo-Americans began to arrive in the territory in search of oil, land and other riches. Only then did the peoples who lived here for centuries before, find themselves cast as a minority.

Rancho Ojay took its name from a Chumash village which, if it can be translated into English at all, probably means month or lunar cycle, according to Ojai Art Center Director Cary Sterling who has studied Indian lore. Berkeley scholar James D. Hart, in A Companion to California (1978) accepts the view of virtually all experts that Ojai to the Chumash meant “moon.” Arthur E. Woolman in The Ojai Valley: Gateway to Health and Happiness (1956) calls Ojai the “Valley of the Moon,” but then suggests that Ojai means “nest.” Travel writers, boosters, and the town’s newspaper continued to use the words “moon” and “nest” interchangeably but, as time went on, preferred the metaphor of the nest. Commenting on this controversy, which never fails to arouse the interest of old-timers, departing school superintendent Albert Marley and his wife Jacque said recently: “Regardless of what the historians and other scholars may say about the meaning of the word ‘Ojai,’ we still like the notion that it means ‘Nest.’ We feel safe in ‘the nest’.”

Spanish settlers reported a pink glow lighting the surrounding mountains to the east. This “pink moment” is a reflection of the setting sun and remains one of the valley’s prime attractions.

The Reyes family circa 1897. (Howard Bald collection, courtesy of OVM). Jacinto Damien Reyes, (third row, second from left) retired in Ojai in the 1930s after three decades as a forest ranger, explorer, and trail-maker in the Sespe wilderness. Reyes Peak, rising 8400 feet in the Cuyama, is named fro him. A hero in the great Matilija-Wheeler Canyon fire of 1917, Reyes also did much to redeem the reputation of the "badlands" along the old Maricopa road from the legendary bandido gangs. The son of Don Rafael Reyes and Dona Maria Ortega (pictured here, second row) Jacinto Reyes grew up on a ranch in Cuyama, now part of the Los Padres National Forest. Presidents William McKinley and Theodore Roosevelt visited the Reyes Ranch in 1901 and 1905. The family is descended from Francisco Reyes, original holder of the San Fernando Valley land grant in the 1780s, and the equally illustrious Ortegas of Ventura County.
The Reyes family circa 1897. (Howard Bald collection, courtesy of OVM). Jacinto Damien Reyes, (third row, second from left) retired in Ojai in the 1930s after three decades as a forest ranger, explorer, and trail-maker in the Sespe wilderness. Reyes Peak, rising 8400 feet in the Cuyama, is named for him. A hero in the great Matilija-Wheeler Canyon fire of 1917, Reyes also did much to redeem the reputation of the “badlands” along the old Maricopa road from the legendary bandido gangs. The son of Don Rafael Reyes and Dona Maria Ortega (pictured here, second row) Jacinto Reyes grew up on a ranch in Cuyama, now part of the Los Padres National Forest. Presidents William McKinley and Theodore Roosevelt visited the Reyes Ranch in 1901 and 1905. The family is descended from Francisco Reyes, original holder of the San Fernando Valley land grant in the 1780s, and the equally illustrious Ortegas of Ventura County.

 

Jose Jesus (Chino) Lopez and Ramona Esquivel Lopez, 1890s. (photo courtesy of OVM) The Lopez family owned land stretching from Foothill Road to Matilija Canyon Road. The old adobe at the mouth of Matilija Canyon was once part of the original Ayala land grant from the King of Spain to Francisco Lopez. The son of Chino and Ramona, Francisco, and his wife Matilda raised a family in Ojai. Many Lopez descendants still live here.
Jose Jesus (Chino) Lopez and Ramona Esquivel Lopez, 1890s.  The Lopez family owned land stretching from Foothill Road to Matilija Canyon Road. The old adobe at the mouth of Matilija Canyon was once part of the original Ayala land grant from the King of Spain to Francisco Lopez. The son of Chino and Ramona, Francisco and his wife Matilda raised a family in Ojai. Many Lopez descendants still live here. (photo courtesy of OVM)

 

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