Grand National Films, the studio that released the picture, was only in business from 1936 to 1939.  The biggest Hollywood name associated with the company was James Cagney, who worked for them as an independent producer.  When the company liquidated, its negatives were acquired by Astor Pictures, a distribution service that operated until 1963.

We are eagerly awaiting our first viewing of the film in its entirety (we sent away for a copy ASAP!).  Staff is excited to see what we might learn about how the site looked in 1936 when it was owned by California Bank.  Between the time that the Temple family lost the property in 1932 and the Brown family acquired it in 1940 (for use as their El Encanto Sanitarium), we know that a military school operated on the grounds under a lease.  Since the Depression still had its grip on the economy, the school did not succeed.  It makes sense that California Bank took advantage of interest from Hollywood since it served as an opportunity to generate income from a fallow land holding.

Above: Ritter serenades a group in the courtyard of La Casa Nueva.

Below: Look for the Homestead’s Water Tower about half-way into this clip.

William M. Godfrey, "7. Los Angeles, from Fort Hill (Bird's-eye)," ca. 1870. From the Homestead Museum Collection.

William Moloch Godfrey (1825-1901), an early photographer of Los Angeles and its environs, took some of the most recognizable images of the developing town starting around 1870. This stereoview, entitled “7. Los Angeles, from Fort Hill (Bird’s-eye),” has appeared in several histories of the town. Today’s blog entry will focus on the location from which the photo was taken.

Godfrey took this photograph from the lower west side of Fort Hill (also called Fort Moore Hill), located west of the Plaza, the historic heart of Los Angeles. The hill’s name came from a fort built there by U.S. forces during the Mexican-American War and named after Captain Benjamin D. Moore. Moore was killed by Californio forces at the Battle of San Pasqual near San Diego in December 1846. The fort, built in early 1847 and formally dedicated on July 4, 1847, was quickly abandoned on the orders of William Tecumseh Sherman, later a renowned Civil War general for the Union Army.

Fort Moore Hill was known for its cemetery (called the Protestant, Fort Moore Hill, Fort Moore, or City cemetery), which existed for about a quarter century from the 1850s to about 1880. Starting in the early 1890s, Los Angeles High School’s second location remained there for about twenty-five years. The headquarters of the Los Angeles Unified School District then operated on the school site until about a decade ago, where a new high school for the visual and performing arts opened in 2009.

The hill was also the home of the Philippi beer garden, completed in the early 1880s. When the location closed, Mary Hollister Banning, widow of influential figure Phineas Banning, converted the location into a mansion. The structure remained there until the mid-twentieth century, when “urban renewal” brought its demolition. The controversial redevelopment program also meant that a sizable chunk of the south side of the hill was removed to construct the Hollywood Freeway (U.S. 101). A bas-relief memorial of Fort Moore was placed on the hill several years later.

Sympathy for Confederates in the South ran high in Civil War-era Los Angeles. Support was such that a pro-slavery “Territory of Colorado” received overwhelming local approval in an 1859 referendum. Some residents were even arrested, confined to Alcatraz Island, and forced to take loyalty oaths. Because of these sentiments, federal troops were moved in 1863 from Fort Tejon (north of Los Angeles) to Camp Drum near the harbor in Wilmington. Their presence in Los Angeles was intended to keep southern sympathy in check.

While stationed at Camp Drum, Pvt. Charles S. Wright of Company B, 4th Regiment of California Volunteers, wrote to a friend in his hometown of Forest Hill, east of Sacramento. In a letter dated July 31, 1864, Wright mentioned nothing about the war or local issues. Instead, he devoted his writing to copper mining along the Colorado River near present-day Needles, California. Specifically, Wright looked forward to being released from service after three years and getting to a claim he had in the Irataba District. He invited the recipient to join him.

Portions of the letter read as follows (with transcriptions below):

Excerpt, letter from Charles S. Wright to Peter Beggett (?), July 31, 1864. From the Homestead Museum Collection.

Your communication of July 3rd has come to hand, and I have defered [sic] answering it until I went to the garrison and seen Oliver, for I am stationed in Los Angeles. […]

Excerpt, letter from Charles S. Wright to Peter Beggett (?), July 31, 1864. From the Homestead Museum Collection.

You state you wish me to let you know where I shall be after my discharge and in reply I will mention that Oliver and myself will be in San Francisco about the 20th of September next and from there will proceed to Fort Mojave for the purpose of opening our Copper Claims. […]

Excerpt, letter from Charles S. Wright to Peter Beggett (?), July 31, 1864. From the Homestead Museum Collection.

The claims in that section of country are all proving good and you see no one from there that does not intend going back.

Contrary to the letter, Wright was not discharged until October 4 and the copper mines proved lacking. The quality of the copper ore was too low to be commercially viable and most of the mines closed by 1866.

Meanwhile, with the conclusion of the Civil War in the spring of 1865, Wright’s regiment largely disbanded, having seen no action in the war. It was instead deployed to such places as Vancouver, Washington; The Dalles, Oregon; and, for most of the war, at Camp Drum (now the Drum Barracks historic site) in Wilmington.

To see the original letter and hear interesting presentations about the Memorial Day holiday, the Civil War, and World War I, visit the Homestead this Saturday and Sunday, May 28 and 29, at 1, 2, 3, and 4 p.m. for our Memorial Day in the Making living history tours! Reservations can be made now by calling (626) 968-8492.

What you won’t see among the many demonstrators is beef butchering (shown below). This particular scene took place at Rancho La Merced, the home of F. P. F. Temple and Antonia Margarita Workman.

William M. Godfrey, Photograph of beef butchering at Rancho La Merced, circa 1870. Courtesy of Philip Nathanson.

The adobe house, shown in the background, was built in 1851. It was a massive L-shaped structure with one wing said to be 70′ long and other 110′, located at the northeast corner of the 2,363-acre Rancho La Merced. The ranch was granted to Casilda Soto de Lobo by Governor Manuel Micheltorena in 1844 and passed into the hands of William Workman six years later, when he foreclosed on a loan he made to Señora Lobo. (Ironically, Workman would lose most of his massive estate twenty-five years later due to foreclosure.)

Workman then deeded the ranch in equal shares to his daughter and her husband and to his majordomo (ranch foreman), Juan Matías Sanchez. While Sanchez occupied and enlarged the Soto adobe, the Temples built the structure in this image. It stood until about 1907 near today’s Rosemead Boulevard and San Gabriel Boulevard/Durfee Avenue.

The image shows several people, probably employees of the Temples, and at least one of the Temple children, Lucinda, who stands at the right. They are gathered near a zanja (water ditch), which was probably used in the butchering process to clean the carcass. After butchering, some of the meat may have been consumed fresh that day and part of it salted and dried for later. Other interesting features of the image include a line likely used for drying clothes and what appears to be some clothes hanging on the picket fence.  A couple of other people stand in the background to the left.

Provided courtesy of photograph collector Philip Nathanson, this rare image of a working ranch was taken by early Los Angeles photographer William M. Godfrey and dates to about 1870.

The “old” Angels were a durable mainstay in the region, winning eleven league crowns, including in 1916 when they were managed by former Chicago Cubs infielder and Hall of Famer Frank Chance;  the 1926 campaign; and the 1934 season, when the team amassed a league record .733 winning percentage and played a championship series against an all-star lineup from the other league teams instead of the second-place finisher.  There were a few local rivals, including the Vernon Tigers and Hollywood Stars, but the longevity of these franchises was difficult to maintain. (The Stars eventually moved south and became the San Diego Padres.)

The Angels played at three parks over its history: Chutes Park, at Main Street and Washington Boulevard (1903-1911); Washington Park, a few blocks east at Hill Street (1912-1925); and Wrigley Field, at Avalon Boulevard and 42nd Street (1925-1957), built by owner William Wrigley, the chewing gum magnate and owner of the major league’s Chicago Cubs franchise.

With the Brooklyn Dodgers coming to Los Angeles for the 1958 season, the Angels moved out of the area, with stays in Spokane, Washington; Albuquerque, New Mexico; and Portland, Oregon. The franchise, currently located in Tucson, Arizona, is slated to move to Escondido, near San Diego, in 2013.

The artifact shown here is a July 4, 1928, scorecard for an Angels game at Wrigley Field against the Sacramento Senators. The result of the game is unknown because the attendee did not to keep score.  The graphics are striking and there are local business advertisements.  The year was tough for the Angels, who finished sixth out of eight teams and thirty-three games behind the league champion San Francisco Seals.  Meanwhile, fans of today’s Angels hope their team can avoid another losing season in 2011!

Baseball scorecard, 1928. From the Homestead Museum Collection.

Stereoview, "No. 97. Pico House, Los Angeles, Cal." Circa 1880. Alexander C. Varela, republished by Isaiah W. Taber. From the Homestead Museum Collection.

This view of the Pico House hotel is from a stereoscopic photograph (identical dual images pasted onto a paper mount that show a single composite in 3-D when viewed through a stereopticon) published by Isaiah W. Taber of San Francisco, probably around 1880. It was taken from the south side of the historic Los Angeles Plaza on Main Street.

Because Taber’s name appears on the orange mount, one might guess that he was the photographer.  In this case, however, that would be a mistaken assumption. The caption on the bottom right corner of the photograph indicates that the original photographer was Alexander C. Varela, who worked briefly in Los Angeles during the late-1870s (and whose work has previously been discussed on this blog—see the earlier entry). The distinctive script on the caption, as opposed to type-set block letters, is identifiable to Varela.

Detail, stereoview caption. From the Homestead Museum Collection.

Varela’s Los Angeles stereoviews, self-published in the late-1870s, all have the distinctive captioning style found in this Taber-published view of the Pico House. Varela relocated to San José and practiced photography there in 1880 before moving back to the east coast. Meanwhile, Taber bought out the inventory of Carleton Watkins, famed photographer of Yosemite National Park as well as the Los Angeles region. So, an obvious conclusion is that Varela may have sold his negatives and other material to Taber for financial reasons, as Watkins did. The work of a full-time professional photographer was difficult and uncertain, particularly with competition, a fluctuating economy, and the overhead of maintaining equipment and a studio.  It seems likely that Varela decided to leave the profession to return to steady, predictable work as a federal employee, and he found a ready buyer in Taber.

This was for good reason, as Varela took excellent photographs that were well-composed, clear, and balanced in tone and content.  (This example happens to be a little faded and soiled and doesn’t represent his work as well as, for example, the earlier example on this blog.) Although it would have been more fair for Taber to have cited Varela as the original photographer, it was almost certainly accepted at the time that Taber had the right to reissue the images under his own name as the purchaser and owner of the negatives. Taber is believed to have republished hundreds of images in this manner, including those from Watkins’s inventory.

Without proper attribution, it would be extremely difficult to identify the original photographer of a republished image.  In this particular case, it could be said that it is all in the writing.

Pío Pico is a key figure in California history as its last governor during the Mexican era. Pico’s medical history is an amazing story woven around the few existing photographs of him. An 1852 image shows Pico with abnormally large hands and fingers, a broad forehead, very large lips and nose, and a forward-jutting jaw (refer to the journal article for the image). Together, these features present a textbook example of a person with acromegaly, a disease causing excessive release of growth hormone (GH) due to a brain tumor in the pituitary gland. His hairless face, unusual for a man of that era, implies a pituitary sex hormone deficiency likely caused by the GH tumor, which would also prevent the release of hormones that control hair growth and fertility in men.

The GH tumor clearly began growing after Pico underwent puberty. Otherwise, Pico would have grown to be a giant, which he did not. A verbal description suggests that he began to display this abnormal appearance by age forty-three, though the exact age of onset is unknown. His acromegaly seems even more profound in 1858, when the outer edges of his eyebrows appear to be missing, indicating hypothyroidism likely caused by the growing GH tumor’s effect on the thyroid gland. Symptoms of this condition would have included headaches, sweating, joint pain, double vision, and muscle weakness, though no known records connect such effects to Pico.

The medical community first became aware of acromegaly in 1886; the 1852 image of Pico may be the first objective recording of this disease. Acromegaly is a chronic debilitating disease. Nearly 80% of patients die within ten years of diagnosis, though Pico lived another fifty years to the age of ninety-three. One, then, is led to wonder how Pico survived for so long.

Later photos of Pico, taken when he was near the age of ninety, show Pico without acromegalic symptoms! He has normal, slender fingers and hands, and more normal forehead, lips, and nose. Remarkably, he has a beard and full eyebrows. All evidence of the original tumor and its secondary effects have disappeared, indicating that Pico’s GH tumor spontaneously died. This rare condition, called spontaneous selective pituitary tumor apoplexy, was first reported medically in 1898, so Pico was again making medical history decades before the condition was recognized. He was quite fortunate, because 50% of people who experience sudden pituitary tumor apoplexy die, and over 80% require medical treatment for residual pituitary hormone deficiency.

The Homestead Museum has a photograph of Pico, from about 1873, which helps more accurately date when the tumor died. Pico is shown with normal facial hair, eyebrows, and a much less acromegalic appearance. Thus, it can be concluded that the pituitary tumor apoplexy occurred sometime between 1858 and 1873. This lends support to the idea that Alfredo Romero, born in 1871, might actually be one of Pico’s biological children, a source of major controversy in past literature. Further images and recognition of any clinical symptoms will allow us to continually refine this story.

Pío Pico, 1873. Donated by Jeannine Raymond. From the Homestead Museum Collection.

To promote the mild winter climate of the San Gabriel Valley, members of the exclusive Valley Hunt Club created a “Tournament of Roses.” The inaugural event was held on January 1, 1890, at what became Tournament Park (now part of the California Institute of Technology or Caltech) and featured races and athletic events, as well as a parade of rose-decorated carriages and buggies—extremely modest in comparison to their massive descendants of today. The use of the word “tournament” was influenced by the medieval aspect of some of the activities organized by the Club.

By 1895, the Club was no longer able to handle the growing event and the Tournament of Roses Association was formed. Three years later, East Coast newspapers picked up on the event, giving it significant public relations benefit.

The Association decided to add to its program by sponsoring its first football game in 1902. The University of Michigan squared off against Stanford University, but the 1,000-person field capacity was not nearly enough for the 8,500 spectators who appeared. A stampede broke out; fortunately, injuries were few and not serious. A trampling of a different sort occurred during the game, as Michigan (ecstatic to be away from the bitter winter cold of Ann Arbor, perhaps?) steamrolled their opponents, 49-0. The lopsided score and the uncontrollable crowd led organizers to put off another football contest until 1916.

In 1905, the first Rose Queen was crowned (there was actually a Rose King in 1913-14!) and, three years later, the tradition of building large, elaborate floats was introduced. Crowds continued to grow dramatically and, in 1918 when the temperature hit a hot 86 degrees, a quarter of a million people crowded along the route to watch the parade.

The Twenties brought many advancements and improvements.  In 1920, horse-drawn vehicles were completely replaced by motor transport. Three years later, the Rose Bowl hosted its first football game, in which USC defeated Penn State, 14-3.  In 1926, the first local radio broadcast of the parade was held, with coverage going national the following year. The final year of the 1920s brought even more excitement to the event, when flowers were glued onto the floats for the first time. The football game that year featured a famous (or infamous) play when University of California center Roy Riegels inadvertently ran the wrong direction with the ball, scoring a touchdown for the opponent and allowing Georgia Tech to prevail, 8-7.

The first four decades of the Tournament of Roses went from modest beginnings to a national pastime still beloved today.

Included here are some artifacts and photographs from the Homestead Museum Collection related to the Tournament of Roses from the 1890s through the 1920s.

Technology developed rapidly in the first few decades of the 1900s and various new inventions could be seen in card designs. One might have found artistic renderings of Santa talking on the telephone, broadcasting on the radio, or even giving his reindeer a break by delivering gifts on his biplane!

As to themes, images of sunny southern California with its orange groves and warm weather essentially mocked those in the East who were usually buried in snow during this time of year.  There was also, however, the unfortunate continuation of racial stereotypes in Christmas cards that carried over from the previous century and remained common through the 1920s.

Another important change after 1900 was the popularity of Christmas postcards. These proved to be convenient and economical since envelopes were not needed and postage was cheaper for postcards at just one cent, versus cards with envelopes, which required an extra penny! At any rate, the postcard was the dominant way to send holiday greetings between 1900 and 1920.

The traditional Christmas card made a comeback during the 1920s. This may have been because of the decade’s economic boom or because Americans simply liked the “classier” card over the postcard. While Christmas card production continued to climb in later decades, especially after World War II, the sending of paper Christmas cards has dropped steadily in recent years. More people are sending e-cards that incorporate video, audio, photos, or other “action” technologies. There is also a growing environmental concern about the use of paper for cards (as well as for wrapping paper). One wonders if the Christmas card is slowly moving, like the dodo, towards extinction!

The cards shown in this slide show are examples dating from 1900 to 1930 and come from the Homestead Museum Collection.

Before the first commercially-produced cards, Americans created home-made greetings and delivered them by hand.  Distributing cards became even easier with improved mail service and enterprising printers.  The history of the published card dates  to 1843 when the first card was created and sold in an edition of 1,000 in England by John Callcott Horsley.

Though some Americans obtained imported cards from Great Britain, German native Louis Prang, a lithographer in Boston,  produced the first published examples in the United States in 1875.  His products grew in popularity over succeeding decades.  By the early 1880s, Prang was producing five million cards per year.  It was very popular for people to keep some of their cards and paste them on souvenir albums, not unlike modern scrapbooks.

Early cards generally did not feature holiday elements like Santa Claus.  Instead, floral designs and those with birds were very popular, as were landscapes of forests, meadows, and areas around homes.  Cards featuring angels and other religious symbols, and those with children, were also favorites.  Unfortunately, there were also some that employed racist stereotypes that were widespread at the time.

In the late-nineteenth century, Santa became an increasingly dominant presence on cards, and their formats and styles changed.  But, more on that in the next post.

The cards shown here are from the 1880s and now part of the Homestead Museum Collection.