PIPELINES

TO
THE PAST
An Oral History of
Olinda, California
Compiled by Ken Beko. et. al.
PIPELINES
TO
THE PAST
An Oral History of
Olinda, California
Compiled bY Ken Beko. et. al.
Early Olinda
Ted Craig 1896-1879
In 1900, when Ted Craig was four years old, the Craig family moved to Olinda
so his father could work building rigs for the Santa Fe Oil Company. Ted Craig lived
on the Santa Fe Lease until 1912, four houses down from the future baseball
immortal Walter Johnson. Thereupon his father became superintendent of the
Graham Loftus Oil Company, and Ted moved with his family to nearby Brea
Canyon. As he came of age, Ted Craig worked in the oil fields, but after 1928, when
he was elected to the Brea city council, his own bid for immortality commenced. His
subsequent half-century political odyssey saw him serving successively--and
successfully--as Mayor of Brea, State Assemblyman, Speaker of the Assembly, and
chief lobbyist in Sacramento for Orange County. Ted Craig, though eight-two years
old, still held this latter position when, on August 3, 1979, the shocking news spread
through the county that "Mr. Speaker" had passed away. In 1972 the Orange
County Board of Supervisors paid tribute to this then living legend by naming Craig
Regional Park in Brea in his honor.
His recent death makes it only fitt ing that we bestow an additional. though
certainly more modest, honor upon him by dedicating this volume to his memory.
In talking with one of the interviewees for this book, Lois Muzzall Smith, she related
to us that she recalled many public addresses at which Ted Craig put forth the claim
that
11
if there had been no Olinda, there would have been no Brea." What she had in
mind was the fact that Brea grew up in response to the Olinda oil workers' need for
equipment and supplies. As time passed, the connection between and Olinda
became so intimate that most ne\lloComers to Orange County assu":'ed
that Brea-Oiinda was and had always been an entity unto Certamly unron
between the two areas has encompassed the fields of economrcs and
its most vital nexus has been people like Ted Craig. Even more than bemg Mr.
Speaker," Ted Craig was "Mr. Brea-Oiinda." He will be sorely missed by area people,
Preface
As soon as it was agreed in the late spring of 1979 that we would teach jointly
the "History of Orange County" class at California State University, Fullerton
during the impending summer session, we reached the further accord that (1) the
course would be conducted within a workshop format; (2) the focus and capstone
for this workshop would be a publication treating the history of a selected
community in North Orange County; and (3) the primary methodology employed
for this volume would be that of oral history.
Naturally, a rationale informed each of these determinations. First, our
preference for proceeding in workshop fashion as against following a more
traditional classroom approach of lectures and discussion derived from our shared
conviction that the former strategy permitted a greater utilization of human
resources and that a participatory mode of education was more conducive to real (as
against rote) learning. We felt, too, that this rationale applied with special force to a
summer school situation, since such classes customarily attract to their ranks a
considerable number of classroom teachers and mature students of all stripes.
Secondly, we fastened upon producing a finished manuscript because of our bel.ief
that the state of historical consciousness and scholarship relative to Orange County
was sufficiently woeful to warrant supplementary published sources, however
modest in scope. As to our reason for riveting publication attention upon a
community in North Orange County, this decision flowed from our recognition that
most students enrolled in the class would be drawn from this area and that this
portion of the county had heretofore been most neglected by local historians.
Finally, we elected to employ oral history as our central research tool both because
of our backgrounds in this field (the first writer of this preface served as director of
the CSU F Oral History Program from 1975 to 1979; the second was affiliated to the
same program from 1976 to 1979 as a member of its Southeastern Utah Project and
as an editor of the program newsletter, OHProflle) and our alertness to oral history's
especial applicability in opening up and elucidating new areas of research.
Our next concern was to determine precisely which North Orange County
community our class could most profitably expend its time and effort upon in
producing an oral history publ ication. Our initial two choices were Brea and Yorba
Linda. The first seemed an apt selection for several reasons. On the one hand,
county officials had been recently forcasting that by the turn of the century it
would be the population center of North Orange County; on the other hand, it
- . . 1 1 ! ~ - - - .L ___ - -* - -
. . . .
published study of its history nor a suitable supply of taped reminiscences about its
past. As for Yorba Linda, it invited investigation because of its cohesive communal
origins as a Quaker settlement and its associations with the two notable descendants
of the Milhous family-Richard Nixon and the novelist Jessamyn West. Then, too,
both Brea and Yorba Linda begged treatment because their origins were sufficiently
recent to be amenable to an oral history approach. In the end, however, we
abandoned each of them as research prospects for the same reason-both
eommunitiec were too large in scope for a mere undertaking such as we
envisioned.
And so we tumed our scholarly spotlight on Olinda. all, it was
geographically ensconced between Brea and Yorba Linda, with historical
connections to both; it was a tight-knit community built around one industry-oil; it
was in terms of. population quite small, claiming but two to three thousand people at
its peak in the 1920s; it was the subject of some, though not extensive, historical
scrutiny; it was at onetime home for at least one famous national figure, the major
league pitching star Walter "Big !rain" Johnson, and one eminent California
politician, Ted "Mr. Speaker" Craig; it was ideally suited to being studied through
taped interviews since many of the community's pioneers not only still survived but
continued to reside in surrounding towns; and, perhaps most compelling of all, it
was a community that both abounded in rich historical resources and possessed the
fortuitous advantage of having a definablE! beginning, middle, end.
By way of preparation for our class project, we read a short paper on Olinda
written by a CSUF student, Linda Brown, for Professsor Jack Elenbaas during the
spring semester of 1979. This paper led us to the original site of the 01 inda
community in Carbon Canyon, part of which had been converted into Carbon
Canyon Regional Park. While talking to the ranger on duty at the parksite, we were
a. about the Olinda area which had been prepared for publication and
1975 as a guide for park visitors. We also noted that one of
Ac
ecowda. s ol the ranger_ stataon was covered with historical photographs of Olinda
r mg Y, we exammed these ph h
purchasing a suitable number of th ot:, Interest, and made provision for
members. On this same occasion st e o ets as background reading for class
School, located in Olinda Viii , we dped by the present day Olinda Elementary
Fitzpatrick, and some of his an d talked to the principal there, Mr James
enthusiasm for our chosen We came away from this with
PIOneers to interview. erpnse and a long list of potential Olinda
During the f st
1 lr coupe of class meetin .
assignments covering the Carbo;sCa, we outlrned our overall plan, handed
Frus comprehensive history o nyon booklet noted above and Leo
of th 1 ' range County Through F,
e c ass members take an excu . our Centuries, and had each
familiarity with it. Then by rslon out to the Olinda area to obtain a firsthand
representatives of Orange 'eo t of_ research orientation, we invited five
wurc . un y lstoncal agencies t l"f
penmenr f0 ffle COUnty in genera/ and Qf" d . O I y. upon available
the CSUF Library's Special Collect 0 In a In Lmda Herman of
locating valuable written and oral usefu I finding aids for
Colony Room at the Anaheim P b/" L"b a Jssmger, curator of the Mother
I I h" . . u IC ' rary, sharpened everyone's appetite for
oca Jstory mqu1ry and offered strategic suggestions as to bibliographic tools at
published study of its history nor a suitable supply of taped reminiscences about its
p a ~ : As for Yorba Linda, it invited investigation because of its cohesive communal
ongtns as. a Ouaker settlement and its associations with the two notable descendants
of the M1lhous family-.Richard Nixon and the novelist Jessamyn West. Then, too,
both Brea and Yorba Lmda begged treatment because their origins were sufficiently
recent to be amenable to an oral history approach. 1 n the end, however we
abandoned each of them as research prospects for the same reason-both
communities were too large in scope for a mere summer's undertaking such as we
envisioned.
And so we turned our scholarly spotlight on Olinda. After all It was
. ,
geographically ensconced between Brea and Yorba Linda, with historical
connections to both; it was a tight-knit community built around one industry-oil; it
was in terms of. population quite small, claiming but two to three thousand people at
its peak in the 1920s; it was the subject of some, though not extensive, historical
scrutiny; it was at onetime home for at least one famous national figure, the major
league pitching star Walter "Big Train" Johnson, and one eminent California
politician, Ted "Mr. Speaker'' Craig; it was ideally suited to being studied through
taped interviews since many of the community's pioneers not only still survived but
continued to reside in surrounding towns; and, perhaps most compelling of all, it
was a community that both abounded in rich historical resources and possessed the
fortuitous advantage of having a definable beginning, middle, ~ n d end.
By wav of preparation for our class project, we read a short paper on Olinda
written by a CSUF student, linda Brown, for Professsor Jack Elenbaa:s during the
spring semester of 1979. This paper led us to the original site of the Olinda
community in Carbon Canyon, part of which had been converted into Carbon
Canyon Regional Park. While talking to the ranger on duty at the parksite, we were
shown a booklet about the Olinda area which had been prepared for publication and
distribution in 1975 as a historical guide for park visitors. We also noted that one of
the walls of the ranger station was covered with historical photographs of Olinda.
Accordingly, we examined these photos with interest, and made provision for
purchasing a suitable number of the booklets as background reading for class
members. On thi:s :same occasion, we stopped by the present day Olinda Elementary
School, located in Olinda Village, and talked to the principal there, Mr. James
Fiupatrick, and some of his teachers and staff. We came away from this visit with
added enthusiasm for our chosen enterprise and a long list of potential Olinda
pioneers to interview.
During the first couple of class meetings, we outlined our overall plan, handed
out reading assignments covering the Carbon Canyon booklet noted above and Leo
Friis' comprehensive history, Orange County Through Four Centuries, and had each
of the class members take an excursion out to the Olinda area to obtain a firsthand
familiarity with it. Then, by way of research orientation, we invited five
representatives of Orange County historical agencies to amplify upon available
sources pertinent to the county in general and Olinda in particular. Linda Herman of
the CSUF Library's Special Collections Department provided useful finding aids for
locating valuable written and oral sources; Opal Kissinger, curator of the Mother
Colony Room at the Anaheim Public Library, sharpened everyone's appetite for
local history inquiry and offered strategic suggestions as to bibliographic tools at
repositories throughout the county; Shirley Stephenson, archivist of the CSU F Oral
History Program, illuminated the interaction between oral and local history and
noted pertinent documents for review in her program's collection; Paul Clark, an
officer in both the CSU F Oral History Program and the Orange Community
Historical Society, drew upon his experience in historical restoration within the
county to illustrate the relationship between an area's sense of history and its overall
quality of life; and Jane Mueller, staff aide at the Orange County Historical
Commission office, informed class members of the Commission's role in placing an
Olinda commemorative plaque at the Carbon Canyon Regional Park earlier in the
year, and reminded them that all files relative to this plaque were open for public
perusal.
Our next step was to hold individual sessions with class members to determine
both their preferences and their facilities for executing the various functions
required for producing the type of publication planned. On ~ h e basis of these
sessions, we divided the sixteen people enrolled in the class into six task forces: four
interviewers, three transcribers, one editor, two historical writers, two indexers, and
four graphics coordinators. It was further determined that we vvould fulfill the
duties of general editors, with the first of us primarily responsible for completing the
manu:;JCript and the second for preparing it for publication. With these tasks in mind,
we set up a series of appropriate training seminars. In this undertaking, we were
assisted by three people from the CSU F Oral History Program. Dr. Gary Shumway,
program co-director, imparted valuable advice to and polished the skills of those
selected to serve as interviewers. Debbie Gill, coordinator of OHP's transcribing
service, stressed to project transcribers the importance of transferring both the fact
and the flavor of oral documents to written form. And Debra Hansen, coordinator
of the indexing service for OHP, taught those assigned the job of indexing the
transcripts that for historical information to acquire optimal utility it has to be
readily retrievable.
Having dispensed with the assorted preparatory measures, it was now time for
the project proper to be launched. So that everyone involved had a clear sense of
each facet of the total operation and how these fit together, we distributed to
project members a book production schedule. As a precaution, we underscored the
point that, while each individual was responsible only for a short, though intensive,
assignment, it was mandatory to the success of our coordinated, corporate effort
that assignments be punctually and properly dispatched. Fortunately, by this time
we had found out that the former residents of Olinda would be staging their annual
Old-Timers Picnic at Carbon Canyon Regional Park on Saturday, August 25, and so
we were able to synchronize all of the disparate production activities with this
deadline date. Indeed, it was affirmed that we would use the occasion of this picnic
to make a formal presentation of our finished product to the community we had
studied.
The first week of July witnessed several important developments. Most
importantly, this was when those chosen as interviewees for the project were
contacted and interviewed. Of immense assistance at this point was the work of one
project member, Jackie Malone. Ms. Malone, a Fullerton College librarian, was the
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only class member with prior experience in oral history, so she volunteered to
coordinate the selection of interviewees and to schedule times at which they might
be interviewed by herself and the other interviewers. Simultaneous with the
interviewing step, the two of us, as general editors, took part in a couple of meetings
which had great significance for the final appearance of our publication. First,
through the good offices of one of the students, Ken Beko, who is employed at the
First American Title Company as supervisor of their mail room, we met with the
concern's print shop chief, Tom Singleton, and arranged to have him oversee the
printing and binding of our Olinda book. Next, we held a conference with Dr.
Shumway, and he informed us that the CSUF Oral History Program would be glad
to typeset our manuscript (we had originally thought that it would be typewritten),
and moreover that he would have the program's word processing center make it -their
number one priority.
We were now convinced that the book would be sound as to its cosmetic
aspects; and once the transcribers had rendered the taped interviews into written
copy, we were also convinced that the material contained within the covers would
not only be sound but substantial as well. For each of the seven interviews pulsated
with the life experiences of people who cared profoundly about Olinda's past and
were anxious to pass down a historical legacy of their community to posterity. As is
so often the case with oral histories, what was communicated in the interviews
amounted to far more than a mere cache of historical odds and ends. For in addition
to capturing historical information, revealing incidents, and telling anecdotes, the
interviewees created a verbal collage of Olinda so vivid as to bear testimony to the
oft-quoted notion that nthe whole is greater than the sum of its parts." If the whole
that is found in these interviews is not life itself, it is certainly something preciously
akin to it. Nowadays it is fashionable for social scientists, journalists, and civic
spokespersons to invoke the concept of a "search for community" to suit their
respective needs, but in these interviews invocation gives way to evocation.
While each memb.er of the project was discharging their responsibility, so too
was an important function being fulfilled by the interviewees. Upon completion of
their transcribed interview, a copy of the t r a n ~ r i p t was sent to them for proofing
and emendation. In every case, this responsibility was met with estimable care and
comprehensiveness. Granted only a few days to review and revise their recollections,
the interviewees returned their corrected transcripts to us right on time, replete with
additional information and precise details as to places and dates. Considering the
advanced age of many of the interviewees, the execution of this chore with such
conscientious regard represented no mean feat.
As the manuscript made its way through the successive stages of editing,
typesetting, indexing, and proofing and while the historical writers penned their
introductory narratives and the production team attended to the details of cover
design and photographic layout for the book, we sensed certain shortcomings in our
endeavor. For one thing, we came to question the "representativeness" of our
interviewees relative to the entire community of Olinda. While we had never aimed
at obtaining a truly scientific sampling of individuals to interview, we had hoped
that our selection would not be skewed in any direction. But the more we read the
interviews, separately and in concert, the more we were struck by the realization
that our rather crude "reputational" method of selection had netted us interviewees
drawn primarily from the well-educated and upper-echelon sector of Olinda. Insofar
as this represented a liability, it manifested itself in the form of interviews presenting
an altogether too roseate a portrait of Olinda's past. Put briefly, life in these
interviews comes across almost without warts; for example, all of the oil companies
appear as models of corporate benevolence, and the Depression seems very little to
have ruffled the calm of ordinary existence. A second shortcoming stems no doubt
from our sending a letter to each interviewee informing them that their interview
would be included in a forthcoming publication that would be presented at the
Old-Timers Picnic. The apparent effect of this knowledge on the interviewees was to
cause them to inhibit any commentary susceptible to being construed as either too
personal or too critical in nature. While this restraint operated, then, as a suitable
lubricant for interpersonal relations, its effect on historical has
assuredly not been heuristic.
We would like to close our prefatory note by reflecting for a moment upon
three quotations which comment upon the topic of the past and which we feel have
pertinence for this publication. The first comes from Lord Byron: ''The 'good old
times'-all times when old are good." This sentiment seems to account for part of the
reason, at least, why readers of this book will encounter so many statements herein
which suggest that, while life in early Olinda was edenic, this is not the case in
contemporary times, which fade in comparison. But for those who feel that such
generational communal chauvinism is the exclusive property of our Olinda
interviewees, they should keep in mind the words of the famous American
journalist, Horace Greeley, who said: "The illusion that times that were are better
than those that are, has probably pervaded all ages." To our minds, however, it is the
third quotation, drawn from H. G. Wells, which best expresses our attitude toward
the past and its relationship to the present and future. ''The past," declared Wells in
The Discovery of the Future, i's but the beginning of a In this Well sian
spirit, we sincerely hope that Pipelines to the Past, by bringing into public
consciousness qlinda's past, will serve as a beginning for a more systematic and
substantial treatment of both Olinda and the other communities comprising North
Orange County.
Arthur A. Hansen and Eileen M. Pohl
General Editors
Introduction
This book is an oral history. of the Southern California community of Olinda
and life in the surrounding oil fields. The story of Olinda is here recounted by seven
of the people who lived, worked, played and attended school there. In short, these
interviews give one a good idea of what it was like to live and grow up in a small
turn-of-the-century Southern California oil settlement.
Although the interviews included in this volume deal mainly with the oil boom
era of the early twentieth century, the area in and around Northern Orange County
actually first developed during the 1880's and this development proceeded through
the ensuing land boom that transpired. After the Santa Fe Railroad was extended up
from Santa Ana in 1887, many land companies were formed to sell five, ten and
twenty acre plots of land for farms. Among those land companies was the Olinda
Ranch Company formed in 1891 by W. H. Bailey, who began a vigorous advertising
campaign to promote the sale of company lands. The brochures promoted many
kinds of crops, among which were citrus, beets, grains, nuts, fruits and grapes.
Unfortunately, the area never really developed into good agricultural land, even with
irrigation, because oil from the hills seeped into the irr-igation system and made it
virtually unusable for drinking or for crop production.
In succeeding years agriculture in the Olinda area gave way to a search for oil.
Already the Union Oil Company had successfully drilled for oil in an area northwest
of Olinda. The first well on the Olinda Ranch was developed by Edward Doheny in
1897 and pfodUCecf abOUt fifty barrels of crude per day. In the following ten
-- --- --- - ... __ ...... *" ":". hundraci feet. Doheny had entered mto a
with th S.nt. t=o t:lailro:ad and developed the Upper Santa Fe Lease and
the Lower Santa Fe= Lea$e. Tho former became the Chanclor-Canfield Midway Oil
Company (CCMO), while the latter became the Olinda Crude Oil Company (also
known as the Olinda Land Company Lease). This began the oil boom era of Olinda.
By this time there were many companies drilling and producing oil in the area.
As Harold Van Patten states in his interview, "Basically all the major oil companies
had holdings in the Yorba Linda-Oiinda area oil field production." And it should be
noted here that many companies are still producing oil today in the same area.
With the upswing in drilling and production many men were needed to work in
the oil fields, and they soon came from the oil fields of Pennsylvania the farmlands
of the Midwest and many other parts of the United States. Men with families were
able r 0 h .,. .. nil ,. n ..... ;..... ........ _ --- .., _ _ - - ___ ,- .
Introduction
This book is an oral history. of the Southern California communjty of Olinda
and life in the surrounding oil fields. The story of Olinda is here recounted by seven
of the people who lived, worked, played and attended school there. In short, these
interviews give one a good idea of what it was like to live and grow up in a small
turn-of-the-century Southern California oil $etllement.
Although the interviews included in this volume deal mainly with the oil boom
era of the early twentieth century, the area in and around Northern Orange County
actually first developed during the 1880's and this development proceeded through
the ensuing land boom that transpired. After the Santa Fe Railroad was extended up
from Santa Ana in 1887, many land companies were formed to sell five, ten and
twenty acre plots of land for farms. Among those land companies was the Olinda
Ranch Company formed in 1891 by W. H. Bailey, who began a vigorous advertising
campaign to promote the sale of company lands. The brochures promoted many
kinds of crops, among which were citrus, beets, grains, nuts, fruits and grapes.
Unfortunately, the area never really developed into good agricultural land, even with
irrigation, because oil from the hills seeped into the irrigation system and made it
virtually unusable for drinking or for crop production.
In succeeding years agriculture in the Olinda area gave way to a search for oil.
Already the Union Oil Company had successfully drilled for oil in an area northwest
of Olinda. The first well on the Olinda Ranch was developed by Edward Doheny in
1897 and produced about fifty barrels of crude per day. In the following year ten
more wells were dug at depths up to nine hundred feet. Doheny had entered into a
partnership with the Santa Fe Railroad and developed the Upper Santa Fe Lease and
the Lower Santa Fe Lease. The former became the Chanslor-Canfield Midway Oil
Company (CCMO), while the latter became the Olinda Crude Oil Company (also
known as the Olinda Land Company Lease). This began the oil boom era of Olinda.
By this time there were many companies drilling and producing oil in the area.
As Harold Van Patten states in his interview, "Basically all the major oil companies
had holdings in the Yorba Linda-Oiinda area oil field production." And it should be
noted here that many companies are still producing oil today in the same area.
With the upswing in drilling and production many men were needed to work in
the oil fields, and they soon came from the oil fields of Pennsylvania, the farmlands
of the Midwest and many other parts of the United States. Men with families were
. - - - - .. -
men were able to build their own homes on company land. The bachelors lived in a
bunkhouse also owned by the company. They were able to get hot meals at
boardinghouses located on the various leases. Mr. R. R. Gauldin remembers that the
boardinghouse on his lease was run by a woman named Mrs. Campbell and,
remembers Gauldin, "she fed real good." Meals at the boardinghouse cost the men
one dollar per day.
Most of the men worked twelve hour shifts and the work was usually hard. All
the materials used were brought to the site and the machinery for the well was built
right on the spot. During the early days wood was used for everything from the large
wheels to the constuction of the derrick There was a small amount of steel
used but wood was the main source of material in the oil fields. In his interview,
Gauldin gives us an excellent description of how a derrick was built from the
foundation to the very top. He states that everything was " . . sawed and fits
perfect so that the nails didn't have to hold anything . . wood all braced against
wood ... " This made the derrick strong enough to hold the large amount of weight
it needed to_ support.
The people who lived on the oil leases were extremely loyal to the companies
as well as each other. There was a real sense of communitY on the leases; everyone
pitched in and helped everyone else. This brought the people closer together in time
of need. If someone was sick or and a doctor was not available, the residents
would take care of the injured person. Because hospitals were relatively far away, in
many cases babies were brought into this world with the help of a midwife.
In many ways, life in Olinda was much like life on a college campus. There
were dances held in the recreation hall on Saturday nights with an occasional fight
out back. Sunday afternoons were reserved for baseball. Most leases had their own
baseball fields, and it was not uncommon for a manager to recruit a good baseball
player to work in the oil fields. Walter (The Big Train) Johnson, the town's most
famous resident, got his start playing baseball in Olinda. Johnson was born in
Humbolt, Kansas on November 6, 1887. His father moved to Olinda around 1902
where he worked as a car loader. Walter was scouted while playing baseball in
Orange County. He signed a contract as a pitcher with the Washington Senators and
played for that team for twenty-one years, from 1907 to 1927. In 1936 he was
inducted into the Baseball Hall of Fame at Cooperstown, New York, after a great
carreer as a player and a manager. In his twentY-one years in the major leagues
Johnson set many pitching records. He pitched almost 6,000 innings while striking
out mort: lhan 3,500 batter.;. His fifty-ci)( scoreless innings mark was a
major league record until it was broken in the 1960s by Don Drysdale, another
prominent Southern Californian. Walter Johnson ranks among the top ten in almost
every major category for pitchers. Before retiring from baseball, he was a manager of
the Senators for six years, from 1929 to 1935. The "Big Train" died on December 10,
1946, in Washington D.C. He was truly Olinda's baseball hero.
The children of the workers went to the Olinda School for their elementary
education and then went to high school in the larger cities. The school was built in
1906 along what is now Carbon Canyon Creek. A portion of the school is still being
put to good use. It sits on the comer of Elm Street and Madrona Avenue in Brea. It
mrrentlv being used as a community and recreation hall. The bell from the old
Olinda School is at the new school in Olinda Village. In the early days, the bell was
used more as a fire alarm than a school bell. When the men working in the oil fields
heard the bell, they would come running. There wasn't a fire department, just a
volunteer force, and most of the men in the community belonged to that.
With its church, grocery store, drugstore and barbershop, Olinda was a l m ~ t a
self-contained community. Tom Young was the barber and also doubled, for a tJme,
as the manager of the Olinda baseball team. Haircuts in his shop cost twenty cents
while a shave was ten cents. Olinda was a dry town in those days so the men would
catch a ride down to Anaheim for a night of drinking.
The Depression and the development of other more productive oil fields
spelled the doom of 01 inda. During the first two decades of the twentieth century
the oil fields in and around Olinda were the main producers of crude in Southern
California. Technology and mechanization also contributed to Olinda's decline. Less
and less manpower was needed to work the oil fields. In tum, whole families packed
their belongings and moved elsewhere in search of v.ork. Flood control was another
reason for the demise of Olinda. Carbon Canyon Creek was a major source of
flooding. In the late thirties heavy rains caused the creek to go on a rampage,
resulting in extensive damage throughout Orange County, including Olinda. By the
end of World War II the community of Olinda was all but gone. Only the buildings
and a few people remained. Many of the houses were sold and moved elsewhere in
Orange County. In 1959 a flood control reservoir and dam were constructed by the
Army Corps of Engineers and most of the remains of Olinda were gone. However,
the spirit that was so alive in Olinda will never die, for each year the "Old-Timers"
and their families get together for a picnic. At these annual gatherings they swap
stories about "the good old days" in Olinda.
Today there is still plenty of fun to be had in Olinda. The first amendment to
the Orange County Master Plan of Regional Parks, adopted in 1965, set aside some
114 acres behind the Carbon Canyon Dam as a new county regional park. The park
was to be built sometime during the decade of the 1970s. In late 1972 and early 1973
funds were allocated for the planning and acquisition of Carbon Canyon Regional
Park. Part of the community of Olinda lies within the first phase of development
and the other part is contained in the area designated for future development. The
first phase, covering some seventy acres and costing I. 7 million dollars, went out to
bid and was awarded in June of 1974. By July of that same year, construction on the
park had begun. Carbon Canyon Regional Park was opened to the public on August
28, 1975. At the dedication of the park some of the "Old Timers" were on hand to
witness the ceremonies. And many more were in attendance in early 1979 when a
plaque commemorating the Olinda community was placed on the parksite by the
Orange County Historical Commission.
The community of Olinda is no longer with us but in the following pages you
can sit back and vicariously enjoy the bygone era of a small boom area as
remembered by the people who experienced and loved life there on the oil leases.
Tom Savage
Haro!d Van
6
Among the interviewees represented h.
distinction of being not only the tn t IS book, Harold Van Patten has the
met in Olinda after sole one born in Olinda. His
bustness, and were married in 1920 Th drawn to the area by the oil
life in an Olinda Land Company hree Harold Van Patten began his
ouse. r e h1s father worked as
on that lease, Harold attended the Olinda School from whl'ch he ad
1 J ' gr uat 1n the
same C ass as ack Armstrong, who later achieved fame as an Army Air Force pilot
and whose name now graces a commemorative grove of trees in Carbon Canyon
Regional Park.
Of all the intervie\Wes, it is perhaps Harold Van Patten .who paints the
memorable mosaic of Olinda during the years. o.ne IS granted through hiS
words the opportUnity to almost walk the corndors of Olinda School, says
van Patten, a child could obtain "about as good ... an elementary educatton you
could get." He also sketches out in rich detail the entertainment and recreatiOn of
the townspeople, including the air shows that took place at nearby Brea Airport. ,
Van Patten remembers, too, the democratic flavor of Olinda--"a really small town
where everybody more or less had the s3me economic status"-and estimates that
dlring its boom years Olinda claimed "over seven hundred houses in the area all
belonging to oil companies.." Finally, in succinct fashion, he explains the reason for
the community's ultimate demise: "The change in the technology of the oil business
from a crude cable tool to modem high speed rotary drilling equipment."
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This is an interview with Mr. Harold Van Patten for the California State
University, Fullerton, Oral History Program's Olinda Community History
Project by Chris Sandstrom at 16672 Golden Avenue, Placentia, California,
on July 6, 1979 at 9:45a.m.
Mr. Vcm Panen, could you relate the circumStances that originally brought
your parents to Olinda? And could you also amplify on some of your early
recollections of Olinda?
V: My mother was born in Santa Paula, California. Her maiden name was Erwin.
Her father came to Olinda through work in the oil fields. They arrived in
1906. My father's name was Harold J. Van Patten Sr., and he and his parents
arrived in Yorba Linda in 1911. They came from Chicago by way of Seattle,
Washington. My grandfather Van Patten was one of the first motormen on
the Westinghouse Electric Railway system in Chicago and he came to Seattle
to start the Seattle-Tacoma Electric Railway. He lived there for two years,
but he didn't like the rainy weather and so he moved to sunny California.
My grandparents lived on the property where we are now, here at 1 f672
Golden Avenue, in Placentia.
My mother and her family eventually took ~ residence on the shores of the
Tuffree Reservoir--which was more commonly known as Stones Lake-at the
end of Golden Avenue, just two miles west of here. This is now the Tri-City
Lake for Placentia-Fullerton-Brea. They met originally when my father was
attending the Yorba Linda Elementary School. He was in the first graduating
class along with the authoress Jessamyn West. My mother finished her
elementary schooling in Placentia, but she did attend Olinda Grammar
School from 1906 to about 1912. For a short time, my father rode the bus
to Olinda. There was a contract with the Yorba Linda School District to take
the Yorba Linda students until they got their school built. So, they initially
met while he was going to the Yorba Linda Elementary School and later
became better acquainted when he was the quarterback of the Fullerton
High School championship football team of 1916. They married a few years
out of high school in 1920, and I was born in 1923.
At that time they lived in a house that belonged to the Olinda Land
Company, which was basically an oil producing company, and it was known
as an oil company lease house. It had originally been the office for the lease
and it was the only house on the block of twenty-four houses which
contained a fireplace. It was considered the fanciest house on the block.
(laughter) It was the early California board-and-batten type construction.
That house still exists today on the corner of Bastanchury and Imperial in
the Yorba Linda area and is lived in by a family by the name cf Osborne.
Ironically, they were residents of that same block of twenty-four houses
where we lived and Mr. Osborne worked for the Olinda Land Company in
1923 when I was born.
I think my earliest recollections--and I do have a very good memory--are of
my time as a very small child in the Olinda area, and especially on the Olinda
land lease. I can remember the events of my second birthday and some of
the gifts I got. I got a puppy and a 'NOoden racing car. In those days, the big
hero of the automobile racing 'NOrld was Barney Oldfield, so any kid that
went around pushing a little race car was called "Barney Oldfield," because
was imitating the champion of the Indianapolis and Corona races.
You know, Barney Oldfield raced at the circle in Riverside County.
I also remember vividly my first day in grammar school. The kindergarten
teacher told all the students of the kindergarten class that they should bring
one of their little friends who would be in school the next year with them
and have them bring something they wanted to in the form of a Christmas
gift they might have gotten. Well, that particular year-through the offices of
a number of my aunts and uncles and parents, and being the only child- I got
a Hoot Gibson cowboy suit for Christmas. I started kindergarten that
January and I went on through the last half of the school year and was
passed on to the first grade. From then on I was the baby of my class in
school. I went all the way through school here, with the exception of two
years that we lived in Ventura while my father worked in the oil fields there.
When 1 came back we moved on to this property (at 16672 Golden Ave. in
Placentia,) and then I went back to Olinda Grammar School. I graduated
from Olinda Grammar School with the same class I had started kindergarten
with when I had first started school in Olinda.
One of the members of that class was a fellow who later became Major Jack
Armstrong. Part of the Olinda Park is dedicated to him now. He was an
Army Air Force pilot killed in trying to set the world's record for what I
recall was the Thompson Trophy Race. I recall him very well. I attended all
the classes up to graduating high school with him. I remember that he was
intensely interested in airplanes and wanted to be a pilot. Even as early as
1934, there was an aircraft flew over the location of the school, what was
known as a GB racing plane, the same plane that Jacqueline Cochran set a
speed record in. Jack Armstrong was as excited as he could be because he got
to see a GB racing plane fly over our schoolground.
as I recall it, was in its waning years, because the school was
to lose students. At one time it was one of the largest element
schools In North Orange County, because ther . ary
and their families out in the Olinda are a large
fields and' quite a few of the women e men _worked In the Oil
oranges during the summer th ;:rked '" the pockmghouses packing
winter season packin lem mon s. me of the women continued in the
drilled with cable d o_ns. In those early days the oil wells were all
depth which if drilled st: It :much as. three years to drill a well to a
over five days. Then With modern _equipment. in not
that was available in those days it took a littl and With the equipment
as _a vvell-pulling job, which was to ull onger to do what was known
vanous mechanical equipment that P d rods and the pump and the
took a little longer. was use to produce oil. So those jobs
There was a Shell Qi\ Company-owned \ease which was Columbia, and
Cr
est t Oil Company-whtch was former\y
a lease presently owned by a mon . o1 ailed the "100
owned by Getty Oil and prior to bY. Tidewater I -c d Shell Oil
A
Lease , Then there were Unton Otl leases nearby, an . . ,
cres field M'd y Oil Company whtch IS a
General Petroleum, waf other small 'independent
subsidiary of Santa Fe Otl Company, a a ew . . h
companies around. Basically, all the oil companies had holdmgs '" t e
Yorba Linda-Oiinda area oil field productton.
At the time 1 was bor:t, my father was working for the Olinda. Land
Company as a pumper. They were the fellows who went around whtle the
well was pumping to see it continued to pump _and_ sure that all the
machinery was serviced, well-lubricated, and mamtamed 1n a standard that
would keep them operating.
But Jet me get back to some of the other things about Olinda. The
was the center of social activity. It had the first set of 35mm mov1e
projectors in the school auditorium. They were provided by oil
companies. They had so much money and wanted to keep the tax btlllow,
so they would spend money rather than have taxes which would be constant.
In their way the oil companies contributed land and contributed tosome of
the refinements to the school. Then they helped create their own school
districts. Quite a few of the people who served on those school boards were
oil company-oriented and they worked for the oil companies. During the
Depression years-that was 1930 to 1936-our school, the Olinda Grammar
School, did quite well because it was the toealthiest school per capita in
Orange County. It didn't have any tax problems or any financial problems.
They ran it very economically as far as books and materials. Education in
those days was pretty much reading, writing and arithmetic. I think my
education at Olinda Elementary School was about as good as an elementary
as you could get. One of the requirements was a test of one
hundred questions on the Constitution of the United States. It had to be in
your own handwriting with an ink pen on finished paper. It had to be legible
and you had to spell correctly. You had to get a score of seventy-five or you
didn't oo on to hiah u:hool. You staved another vear until you passed your
civics exam, which was really a combination of English, spelling,
penmanship, your knowledge of the Constitution and your ability to write
an essay-type answer. There was no such thing as multiple choice
examinations, except on very rare occasions.
Well anyway, at that school and at that time it was just an awful lot of fun.
We worked hard in school and we had things that were unpopular today. We
did the times tables by rote and we repeated them for twenty minutes. We
did p:mmanship for twenty minutes, putting little circles on a piece of paper.
Our principal at that time was a man by the name of Alexander J. Barnes,
and the kids all called him "Pop." He was of the old school and he dressed in
a suit and high starched collar or a good old-fashioned cellophane collar.
Two or three things occurred while he was the principal. I remember
hool He was a problem to his parents and the
really want to come to sc. k . f Hermie He had two or three older
h 1
H went by the me name o . .
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d
sc oo . e h
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They were pretty tough indtvtdua s an
brothers go t.he sc oo. he fa mil image. He was sneaki:'lg a smoke
Hermie was trymg to hve up to t . school a little late everyday and
. the rest rooms now and then, commg h I d
m . ff before school ended in the afternoon. One day t e anyar
got stuck. In those days the oil companies made the
and it seemed like everyplace a flagpole was put up they tried to out. o
themselves, making a taller and bigger flagpole. school
a tall flagpole, much higher than you see except tn places hke the btg A
[at Anaheim Stadium]. It was a tall flagpole. Mr. Barnes had forethought
one morning when the flagpole lanyard got stuck to ask Hermie to go up the
flagpole and get the lanyard unstuck because it was stuck at very to.p
part. 5o while all the school was there, while everybody was wa1tmg, Hermie
climbed the flagpole. Of course, every kid in school and hoorayed
for Hermie. After that Mr. Barnes realized that all Herm1e really needed was
the attention of his peers. About once a month the lanyard. was
stuck and Hermie got the job of climbing the flagpole. Herm1e never mtssed
much school after that for fear he would miss a day when the lanyard was
stuck. That was the way Mr. Barnes kept Hermie coming to school-he let
him climb the flagpole.
1 recall another thing. In the top of our school building, we had a big bell
which we didn't normally ring for anything but fire drill. That was also a
notification to the various leases the men worked on that, if they heard the
school bell, then the school was on fire. But they would tell the various
leases: "Well, today at a certain time we are going to have a drill and you
will hear the bell and know that it isn't a fire. " One of the young fellows
who tNent to school there was a kind of mischievous kid. The rope for the
bell came down through the totNer from the top of the school building into
the central vestibule, as it was called in those days, to the school building. It
hung down close to the floor so that a kid could reach up
and get ahold of it easy and ring the bell if necessary. Well, in those days
they weren't careful about the dogs running loose and all the leases had good
big large dogs, with close to one hundred pounds in \Wight being common.
This one dog would come by every morning just strolling down the road.
This young fellow, being an enterprising soul, swiped some other kid's lunch,
got out a bologna sandwich, took a slice of bologna and rubbed it all over
end of the knot on the bell pul l. Then he opened the front door of the
school, tore the bologna up in a few pieces and tossed it on the walk. The
dog followed the bologno into the school. When Lht: dog fi nished eating the
bologna, the fellow was back in his seat in the classroom. The dog could
smell the bologna on the end of the rope and started ringing the school bell.
Being an unscheduled fire drill and nobody knowing who was pulling the
bell, this caused the school to empty out and the men from the nearby leases
to come as rapidly as they could to see if the school was on fire.
Mr. Barnes was quite interested in school athletics. We were a rather small
school. In fact, I think there vwre just exact ly six boys in my graduating
class from elementary school, and ten in the whole class. But
won the basketball championship in our league and we did quite well in
track and baseball. Of course, there was no football for elementary age kids
in those days. But Mr. Barnes was quite interested in some of our athletes. In
those days one of the most famous families in athletics was the Ledbetters
from Olinda. There were eight sons and they were all football players. Those
eight sons over the years contributed another eight or ten sons who
on the Brea-Oiinda High School football teams. So the name Ledbetter 1s
famous in north Orange County football, both at Brea-Oiinda High School
and Fullerton Junior College.
Mr. Barnes was one of those who had tremendous enthusiasm but very little
understanding of athletics, so his attempts at coaching and .teaching athletics
were somewhat comical to the parents of the kids in school. Quite often he
would be the umpire and be the brunt of an awful lot of criticism. This was
because his judgment was somewhat less than good because of his lack of
knowledge of the sport that he was trying to judge. He was a well-known
character around town. In the social life that was carried on he was always
the master of ceremonies at programs, even adult programs that were held in
the school. Everybody went to these because there was nothing else to do.
There was no night life; they rolled up the street in town at sundown.
In my time in Olinda there was one general store, one barbershop, and
maybe three churches. We used to have delivery wagons come. Ice wagons,
milkmen, men who came and sold fresh fish-butcher shop on wheels--a
vegetable wagon, and every so often a man would come through to sharpen
knives. Every once in a while there would be a Watkins products man, like
the Jewel Tea Company, and a lot of selling. The pots and pans
salesmen were always an event and the kids in the neighborhood would go
from door to door and watch them, so everybody knew if anybody bought
anything. In those days everybody knew everybody else and everybody's
business. In the evening you strolled over to somebody's house and you
didn't watch television, you conversed. It was a good life the people
seemed to contribute to each other's welfare and well-being. If one kid had a
goat cart, every kid got to ride in the goat cart. Another kid would reach
high school age and get an old automobile and all the kids on the block
would wor.k on it. You were never at a loss for help to keep an old jalopy
running. You could hook a ride to the beach or participate in some kind of
program or activities such as going on picnics.
The whole town would travel to what was known as Orange County Picnic
Grounds several times a year. It was in the Irvine Park area towards the
Santiago area in Cleveland National Forest. The other activity that all the
men were involved in and loved was softball and semi-professional baseball.
The Olinda Field was a good baseball field and there were two or three teams
who played a good quality of semi-professional ball. In fact, when my
mother first lived at Stones Reservoir she used to play catch with Walter
Johnson. He became one of the most famous big league baseball pitchers and
I am sure you will hear his name many times in connection with the history
. or da in those days took place at Brea
Another big event that '"I of flying. They were building
Airport. This was dunng the ear y ys e vinta as World
different types of aircraft there, all pretty that !re kept in
War 1 aircraft There were twO or three war surp d
han rs there.at the airport on Carolina between Olinda and_Brea. They ha
air shows that were similar to those held at what IS now the
Angeles International Airport, but they were smaller. never ha_d the big
names like Charles Lindbergh, Roscoe Turner, and J1mmy Doolittle,
they did have some fairly outstanding air meets in Brea. I the a1r
meet quite well. People lined their cars up along the They had
touring cars and turned the car tops up so everybody could_s1t 1n the car and
just watch out of the car. On one particular day, the .arcraft called the
"Bluebird" ... well, its wing suspension failed, one wmg folded up, the
other crashed and the pilot \WS killed during the air event. That brought the
air shows to a conclosion there. It \WS just a matter of two or three years
after that the airfield itself folded up because of the Depression. There was
no real commerce. A few fellows were learning to fly but it kind of died.
Before the airfield was completely abandoned there was an exact replica of
the Spirit of St. Louis, Lindbergh's plane, flown in there.
1 think my best memories of Olinda are of a really small town where
everybody more or less had the same economic status. There wasn't that
much difference bet\Neen those people who had jobs as superintendents or
foremen and those who were on the working level. The quality of housing
was just a medium standard, and only a few of the people lived in a little
nicer homes-that is, nicer in their exterior design and interior finish. In fact,
in those days there were only one or two houses on the Olinda lease which
had inside plumbing; and yet they all later did have. There was one law on
the lease that I recall. The street light system in Olinda was minimal,
consisting of very small dim globes and a little reflector. Well, the man who
lived in the house closest to the main switch would go out every evening at
nine o'clock and pull the switch a couple of times and make the street lights
go on and off. Every kid on the lease had better be in his own home at nine
o'clock; if not, they would catch it. It was a curfew but one so well-accepted
that the kids didn't regard it as a curfew-type rule; they just thought that
was the time they'd better be home. We would be playing out in the street,
and if those street lights blinked, it was time to shag off and go home. You'd
better get there in just a matter of minutes or somebody would be out after
you.
Another thing we had in those days is a lot of games that are not allowed
today. We had tops and marbles for keeps and \Ne could play mumbly peg
with jackknives. As far as flying kites, nobody bought a kite; you made your
own. One of the first things you learned to do was make a kite. We had
unsupervised soapbox derby races where we just pulled the thing up on the
highest hill we could find and turned it loose. Somebody was always falling
and spraining an ankle or breaking an arm or having some sort of major
catastrophy. The big kids would always lead the little kids into some form of
mischief, but it was expected and there wasn't a federal case made out of it.
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As for the traffic in and around Olinda then, you could recognize everybody
in town just by the sound of their automobile. You knew that so-and-so had
an eight-cylinder and so-and-so had a four-cylinder, a Star or a Dodge. You
could tell by how far down the street it went or what street it came from
which car it was. You'd think, ''Well, that was a Ford and the only Ford
down there belongs to so-and-so." So you knew who was on the street and
you didn't have to look out and see who it was.
In the early days in Olinda everything was volunteer fire departments. One
of the biggest fires we ever had was when the general store burned down.
Everybody in town quit what they were doing and went to the fire. The
grammar school emptied out and all the kids in school ran to the fire. It was
one of the big events in the year.
Who owned that store?
Well, originally, when my mother first arrived in Olinda, it was owned by
Stem and Goodman: then it was handed down through two or three
_and at _the t1me 1t was rebuilt a man by the name of Case. He owned
1t for qu1te awh1/e.
lysawka picture o_f the store that had Stein and Fasseil painted on the sign. do
ou now anythmg about them? ,
I think that Stein later became f .
Fullerton, and I don't remember the Stem and Strauss store in
partnership. Quite a few of th t w at happened to the other part of the
merchants that came to the LoseAs orels t at were in these parts were Jewish
nge es area.
When you were going to Olinda School did you live he
' re part of the time?
The last four years that I attended the school.
How did you get to school then?
The came right to the corner of Golden .
lmpenal Highway was not throu h bein . and _Rose Dnve, and of course,
graduated from Olinda. g 9 built until 1934, two years before I
Santa Fe Railroad. The Chanslor-Canfield Midway Oil Company belonged to
the Santa Fe. But in those years when they decided that a railroad could not
own an oil company, why, that was the quickest way out. They just sold to
some of their own principals and changed the name, yet the oil was still
carried by the Santa Fe Railroad.
S: You said that you had athletics at Olinda School. What other areas did you
play against, and how was that set up?
V: We had a league in which we were in competition with Yorba Linda
Grammar School, El Modena Grammar School, and Carmenita Grammar
School-which is over on the west end .That was about it, but that took in
quite a scope. Those were about the only elementary schools, other than the
big schools in Fullerton and Anaheim, in the whole area. There was a
Placentia school but we didn't seem to compete with them because it was
quite a bit larger. Placentia, Fullerton, and Anaheim were the larger schools
in numbers and the Olinda School and the others were about the same size.
La Habra was a little larger, and got to be much larger while Olinda kept
dwin.dling in size.
S: During the summer, when you lived on the lease, what would you do during .
the day?
V: We might start out in the morning chasing lizards. In those days we would
get a canvas bag and go out and take a long oat strand and tie a noose on the
end of it, slip it over a lizard's head and catch him around the neck and then
you would come home with a bag full of lizards.
We did an awful lot of intra-oil company ball playing. In other words, on our
lease there were about ten boys varying in ages from ten to fifteen years of
age .and we would all get together,climb on bikes and away we would go over
a m1le to another lease Every lea Jd h
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tho r I I . se wou ave a fullslze ball field none of
would meet and start a ball game.' Some of
s ow up, and by the t1me we had been 1 h'
we had full teams. You never played a r 0 ed . P aw lie,
played until everybody got tired and 'tequlr number of mnmgs, you iust
QUI.
Everybody was making little soa b . 0
hills were full of roads that we:e ox 0 coaster cars In those days because the
roads and we could go flying d We would pull them. up the
straight courses they were . d?wn. course, a lot of them were not
0 ' Win 109 roads that we t d
sometimes a kid would ffy off the d n own through and
wrecks, and get banged up. Then ;:a a canyon,' have
operation. wou re uld the thmgs and be back in
About once a week in those da s so e
beach, either Huntington or ::dy take a load of kids to the
a real good time on weekends 0 go and stay all day and have
Park where the older men wouidr;,: bJg was to to Orange County
played was pretty sharp In fact, 0 I Y so II. The cahber of being
. m ater years, of course, Olinda never had a
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top team, but some of the Olinda athletes-kids out of high school and. the
young men that were still around at that time-would play softball on
teams sponsored by packinghouses, oil companies, or one or two serv1ce
stations-it was a form of advertising. There vvere night ball games in the area
pretty near every night of the week.- They played softball over at Placentia or
Yorba Linda or Brea on the high school field.
The big kids took care of the little kids. Once in a while some kid would get
stuck in a culvert under a street or something which required the men to
come out and rescue them. It seemed there was more community interest
among people because their communication was one on one, and not
through the television. There vvere not things like bowling alleys or local bars
and there were not any restaurants close by. Going out to dinner to eat at a
restaurant an event. We went to places like Swanson's or Ross's Cafe in
Santa Ana, which was an all-day Sunday affair. We would drive down to
Santa Ana to have a Sunday dinner. Anaheim was the focal center of the
north of the county as far as commerce was concerned. If we went to
on a Saturday night, we saw half the people from Olinda there. It
was typ1cal that people for their biggest supply of groceries went out of
town. They their lesser items here, although in those days you could
a .grocery bill for a month or two months or three months at the
the store owner. Some people bought all their locally
ran a ' at the grocery store.
You mentioned delivery trucks; where did they come from?
The one that delivered the fish had to come all the way from the beach out
of the Newport area. He would come up into this end of the county once a
week: The fruit and vegetable wagons came out of Anaheim and Fullerton.
The 1ce plant was the Union Ice Plant out of Fullerton. There was a small
dairy locally, right on the same lease that I lived on, the Olinda Land
Company, and it had about fifteen cows at that time. He later moved his
dairy to a location down in Yorba Linda, expanded to thirty cows and
delivered all over the Yorba Linda and Olinda areas.
I lived right next door to that little dairy and I was around there a lot. When
1 was ten years old I used to ride my bicycle down to the Yorba Linda Dairy
and wash bottles and fill bottles and cap bottles. It was not uncommon for a
kid to have s.ome kind of a little menial job that he had to do.
S: Is that the only way you earned spending money?
V: The older boys did lot of the work that is done by the braceros or Mexicans
now. The bean fields always hired kids to pull beans and you could see
twenty or thirty of them out there in the fields. Also, east of Yorba Linda
and right in town there was still agriculture going on, so you could get a job
for a few days every summer, either hoeing or weeding. There were a few
summer jobs cultivating corn, but nothing like there is now. The idea of
getting a job as a paper boy just didn't exist; if you got a paper, it was
brought out by some guy who had a car and delivered papers by automobile.
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What papers did people get?
At that time the most popular paper that came out in this was the
Anaheim Bulletin. and the Fullerton Daily News Tribune. Yorba Lmda had a
paper and so did Brea. .
Someone mentioned to me there was also an Olinda paper?
Yes, but it was gone by the time that I was born.
Because of the oil, Olinda was at one time the boom town of Orange
County, and I think my mother told me there were over seven hundred
houses in the area all belonging to the oil companies. The people who mewed
in came from various other areas of the United States. There 'v't'ere men who
came out from the Pennsylvania oil fields and men who came out from
Kentucky. In some cases, one member of a family would come out and
discover that this was a land of milk and honey and then send for others
from his area. In Olinda there was a basic group of people who came from
Drake's Creek, Arkansas. They were the Ledbetters, Drakes, Johnsons,
Thompsons, Youngs, Birds, and several different factions of the Neal family.
There was just quite a contingent of people from that one little community
area back in Arkansas. These people were a lot of fun when we were kids
because they had some of their colloquialisms. As I understand it, Drake's
Creek is back in the Ozarks, one of those places where the people were all
relatives, and they had their own speech and ways of doing things. They
were people who were a lot of fun and had a lot of humor. They had a lot of
energy. They all wanted to be athletes, because they had a reputation. Some
of the people from their part of the country had gone big in athletics, in
baseball particularly. Recently at a dedication of a historical site in the
Olinda area I was surprised at the number of people who 'v't'ere there from the
era when my mother arrived. My mother would have been seventy-nine this
year, but she passed away in 1970. She was more or less one of the leading
instigators of the Olinda picnic; she compiled the list of everybody and her
lists were turned over to Lois Smith. My mother was kind of an organizer
and goer. She was a lot of fun, and she knew everyone in Placentia and
Fullerton. She could tell you the ownership of almost every piece of
property in the north end of the county. She worked in two or three of the
packinghouses, a jewelry store, and a yardage and general merchandise store.
She became acquainted with a lot of people.
Was that down here or in Olinda?
That was here in Yorba Linda, Placentia and Fullerton.
. Was it common for the mothers in Olinda to have outside jobs?
Only during the Depression years. If a woman could get a job packing
oranges or something like that during those years, would.
men were not working full-time, some were only workmg part-ttme tn t e ot
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fields, so it was a prettY hard existence.
. f the company-owned house and they
The Depression brought the demtse o ht u and the people to move away.
slowly allowed all the to be bouhg t . in Atwaod, one in the
h
one Oltnda house t a ts "10
1 could s ow you .
8
P k They were built around 1909,
Fullerton area and one tn uena ar .
or
1911
. are of the type of com;truction that would not even pass
inspection today, and yet they are still around.
Was there a doctor in Olinda?
No the family doctors came from out of Fullerton and our family doctor
' f Anahe"tm Later we had a family doctor that came from Brea.
came rom 1
Earlier there were doctors in Olinda but they moved on tnto arger towns.
When my grandmother lived he;e we had a big red rooster and he jumped up
and spurred her and knocked her over backwards and broke her back. Today
that vvould mean intensive care and thousands of dollars but the doctor came
out and said, .. Yup, you broke your back ... Then he told her to put a board
under the bed and make it real stiff, taped her up real good and said for her
to stay in bed for six weks. My mother took care of her and at the end of six
weeks, my grandmother hit the floor running and never looked back. She
never complained about her back bothering her or anything. You could not
afford to be sick. It took too much time away from being active, which you
had to be to survive.
What was the hospital that most people from around here went to?
Well, there was a little hospital in Brea and the closest one was in Fullerton.
The biggest hospitals at that time were in Santa Ana-St. Joseph's and, I
guess, Santa Ana Community Hospital. You just didn't hear of people going
to the hospital.
As for the babies that were born on the lease; well, the wife of the man who
owned the dairy was the midwife. She delivered all the babies. Lots of times
they vvould call the doctor and he could not get there in time; and when he
did get there from Anaheim, he would say, "Gee, Mrs. Thomas, you did a
real good job." She was a tremendous woman and one of the most capable
I have ever seen in my life. Her parents lived up in the Angeles
Natto.nal Forest and she would go up about once a month and pack in
suppltes to them. She would ride a horse and pack eight pack animals by
herself. She never thought a thing about it. You just did what you had to do
because you had to do it. To see a woman have so much self-confidence in
what she was doing is a rare thing to begin with, and then her doing things
that were considered more of a man's job in those days showed a real
capability. My mother at the time was allergic to bee stings. When I was four
years old, she was stung and she told me to run across the street and get Mrs.
Thomas. I ran for Mrs. Thomas and by the time we got in the house, my
mother was lying on her bed and she was unrecognizable. Her eyes were
swollen shut and her arms swollen. This had only taken three or four
minutes. But Mrs. Thomas took care of that, she knew what to do. 1 don't
even know what she did, but whatever it was, she knew what to do for the
situation immediately.
The older people lived here with us; it was their home originally. But after
my parents moved in, they took care of my grandparents. There was no such
thing as going to a rest home or putting people out to pasture; they were
active right up to their last days. The older men and women raised the
gardens, did household chores and the younger men in the family went to
work.
The community spirit and togetherness of larger groups of people was much
stronger in those days. When we lived on this property we never locked the
door or the gas pump. We never locked up any of the equipment, and if we
were gone and somebody wanted to borrow something like a truck or
tractor, w ~ y , they just came and got it. If they needed five gallons of gas,
they took It and told us about it later. If any relative or neighbor came by,
for whatever reason, they went in and got it and told you about it. Nothing
was ever disturbed, we never missed anything.
My dad used to use the Pacific Electric Red Car to go to work in Los
Angeles. The Red Cars came to Yorba Linda and that actually was the
beginning of Yorba Linda because the railroad line was run out here. The
Santa Fe Railroad line ran into Olinda and I can remember the train running
daily there to the little station. By the time I was grown-up you couldn't buy
a ticket there but we could still get on the train. We could go down to
Atwood and get a ticket there for anywhere you wanted. We just climbed on
the caboose-there was no passenger deal--and ride down to Atwood to buy a
ticket. Prior to that you could take the train from Olinda.
S: When you lived in Olinda,_ was there any town government?
V: No, there really wasn't. I think the government was in the hands of the
superintendents of the various leases. Our water came from wells that
belonged to the company; they set up the whole water system. Electricity
came in and that was a public utility. They kind of agreed with utility
company officials where the power lines would go and what would be done.
There were some sewer lines run which served principally for waste water
from the oil fields. It was a mixture of oil, water and chemicals that were not
disposable anywhere on the surface so they were in a sewer line which went
on down to the coast. Local problems were handled by the school board and
management officials of the oil companies. There was no mayor or anyone
like that.
S: What do you think was the real reason for the town fading out?
V: The change in the technology of the oil business from a crude cable tool to
modern high speed rotary drilling equipment.
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Part of the dedication they had up there recently was for the first well that
was drilled with a rotary drill with fluid in the hole-that is, circulating water.
That was the beginning of rapid drilling. That was the beginning of the end.
When you consider drilling an oil well in five days as compared to three
years-and when you drilled crude, it was done on an around-the-clock basis.
Once you start you do not stop, because if you stop you lose equipment.
The hole could settle in or sand. If that occurred in the cable tool days, you
lost the tool and you could not drill down through the same hole. Then the
hole would have to be drilled to the side of where you had begun. Not every
"""'" b ...... c..-fullv eo"'pleted. Today very few problems arise.
Probably the most famous error in drilling today is the Santa Barbara
channel. A well v.es being drilled .and got away from them. That only
happened very rarely in the drilling of oil fields. One got away momentarily
in the Olinda area and also one in the Yorba Linda area and that sprayed oil
and mud around. But they were controlled.
Did you ever have any oil fires?
Well, they didn't have. any fires from oil wells being drilled but they had a
few where the installation or wooden derricks themselves caugh.t fir-e and the
whole thing burned down. That was always a big event because you could
see it all over. As they aged and the timber dried out and the floors of the
wells got covered with crude oil, they became quite incendiary. 1 am sure
that some of them were set deliberately. Some were set by vandals and
others caught fire because the machinery malfunctioned, so there was
occasionally a fire. I have seen four or five tall wooden oil derricks burn
down.
Wef'e there any serious brush fires?
Yes. We had a serious one in the Yorba Linda-Oiinda area last year. And
twice before. In 1940 we had a fire that burned almost the same area. It
started in the Chino area and came clear across the hills. It's only a miracle
that Carbon Canyon itself never burned out. That's brought about by
circumstances like in Silverado Canyon. A fire starts on the perimeter. The
fire generates its own wind. And as it reaches a peak, it starts to draw from
another canyon. Well, that air drawing up from the canyon causes the fire to
on itself. So as the fire crests above Carbon Canyon, the fresh air
rushmg an the fire back on it:ael f and slows the fire down enough so
that the fire crews can save those areas.
Were you here when the flood came through?
In Oh, was I evert The flood rose up during the night. The main cause
for 1t was the old Yorba bridge as it was called. It was an old wooden
construction bridge, a. design in the wood. There was no flood
channeling or anything like that, so as that flood got bigger and bigger a lot
of_ small and brush washed down and began to pile up the
wh1ch created a dam. The bridge was where the 1 mperial Highway
n ge now crosses the Santa Ana River bed. That spread the water out of
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the river banks and a.round on either side. When it finally broke loose, _it just
washed everything as it went. It went through south Placentia
across into the Olive-Orange area and wiped out a amount o
property and homes. It also got into downtown Anahe1m.
0 id it affect you up here?
The only effect it had was to wash out Rose Drive Bridge and the Fe
Railroad bridge going into Olinda. That was the end_ of the Santa Fe
going into Olinda. Up until then they occasionally_ take a tra1_n up_ rn
there but after that it was the end of any train transportation. In the 1ntenm
they 'put in pipelines to bring the oil down to another area to ship down into
the Atwood area. The oil now presently goes to a location in Brea and it is
run through a cracking plant and treatment plant over there.
One of the McConnell boys and I were standing right on the edge of the
Rose Drive Bridge when it actually went out. The bridge was about forty
feet wide and before the flood started there was about eight feet of clearance
at the bottom of the bridge, but there was so much water coming out of
Carbon Canyon that it washed the bridge away.
S: So the Carbon Canyon Creek actually met the Santa Ana River?
V: Which came right past the end of this property. In other words, we owned
property right on the creek. You can see the bridge there; in fact, 1 think
you crossed it coming here. That cut through to where you see the settling
basins. now at Miller Street and Orangethorpe. That is where Carbon Canyon
Creek joi ned the Santa Ana River. That flood wiped out a considerably
amount of Santa Fe Railroad track in Placentia and Atwood, undercut it to
the point where the track was hanging five or six feet above ground level,
and no railbed underneath the ties. The next morning refugees came into this
area out of Atwood and those areas and just camped up here. There was one
family stayed in an old bern that was across the street here, right on the
other side of this house. They stayed for a week until they could get back in
and clean out their home. Some of the homes didn't wash away, but were
filled with mud. I had some friends that lived in the area where Autonetics is
now, and the depth of the water there was up to the door handles on a 1934
Willis, probably three feet deep.
S: Was Atwood a Mexican community at that time?
V: Oh yes. It was a section gang community . Even earlier there was a little bit
of water, surface water that came down and was available by wells or springs.
This gave the Mexican families a source of water in the earliest days that
didn't come from a water pipe. Their communities always started where
there was water available. So there was a little Mexican agricultural
community there even before the railroad. There was water available along
the Santa Ana River and another place or two along the foothills where there
VJere actual live springs and wells, and where the Mexican communities were.
The old Yorba adobe, which was one of the biggest in Southern California,
was about a mile east of Imperial and Orangethorpe. That was kind of their
home ground even before there was any development around, because
nobody told them in those days they couldn't. Then that land was bought
up and subdivided and it just became a community, so it never really had
much future to it. It just kind of grew like topsy. The railroad station which
was actually called Atwood, but a lot of those in the community called it
Richfield.
): Was La Vida Hot Springs in Carbon Canyon an organized spa when you lived
in Olinda?
1: By the time I was there the La Vida Hotel was there. It had a similar
background to Murietta Hot Springs, and the Los Angeles Jewish community
would come out to it on weekends. There was a bottling company which put
out a soft drink called La Vida Lime and Lemon, and it was made from the
natural carbonated water.
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Did the local people in Olinda have much to do with La Vida?
Not a lot. It was where the Jewish people went, and there was. little
contact. A few people went up there and worke? .on a small basis either at
the hotel or around there, but there was just a contact. It wa.s a
little community all to itself. They didn't partiCipate m. any way With
Olinda. None of the oil company business .....as involved there Jn any way.
Do you think there is anything about Olinda that we didn't cover and you
would care to comment on?
There are a lot of things I could cover, but in general I'd like to say just that
the life we had there, and the activities of that kind of an era, represent a
long gone forgotten era, especially in this county. Too bad that some of the
things that people enjoyed then couldn't be now; I guess the closest thing
would be the Olinda picnic. Those people get together and recall things, even
the younger people of my age. We were probably the last generation there. 1
guess there might be a few people, maybe eight years younger than 1, and
would be the last of the people who actually li ved in the old tow
11
of
Olmda, because it really almost totally disappeared by 1940 Th
d h
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. . ey even
move t e l1nda School to the El Rodeo Riding Stables after World War 11
There were only ten kid.s in the whole school and it was a one-room school:
It never out of ex1stence as a school district and when they built the
why, it came back as the Olinda School District up in h t
1s now Olinda Village. w a
Mr . . Van Patton, this has been an extremely informative and interestin
sess1on and I have learned a great deal about Olinda's history by talking
you. me only say of the California State University, Fullerton,
Oral Programs Olmda Community Project, how much 1 appreciate
your t1me and recollections.
Anaheim, Calif., 8,9,11,
14
Anaheim
Anaheim Stadium,
les
National Forest,
Ange
II
Armstrong, Jack, 2
Atwood, Calif., 11,12,14-15
Barnes, Alexander, 3-5
Bird family, 10
Brea, Calif., 9,10,11,14
Brea Airport, 6
Brea-Oiinda High School, 5
Buena Park, Calif., II
Carbon Canyon, Calif., 13,15
Carbon Canyon Creek, 14
Carmenita Grammar School, 8
Carnine, Herman, 3-4
Case, Mr., 7
Chanslor-Canfield Midway
Oil Company, 3,8
Chicago, Ill, I
Chino, Calif., 13
:::itrus industry, 2,10
::Jeveland National Forest, 5
:::Ochran, Jacqueline, 2
:;olumbia lease, 3
;orona Races, 2
;restmont Oil Company, 3
>epression, 3,6,10
loolittle, Jimmy, 6
lrake family, 10
lrake's Creek, Ark., 10
I Modena Grammar School, 8
I Rodeo Riding School, 15
res, 13
oods, 13-14
Jllerton, Calif., 1,7,8,9,
10,11,14
1/erton Duily .Yews Tribune,
10
1llerton High School, I
illerton Junior College, 5
neral Petroleum Company, 3
Getty Oil [Company]' 3
Beac
h Calif., 8
Huntington '
Indianapolis Races, 2
Irvine Park, 5
Je<Nel Tea Company, 5
Jewish community, 7,15
Johnson family, 10
Johnson, Walter, 5
La Vida Hot Springs, 15
ledbetter family, 5,10
lindbergh, Charles, 6
Los Angeles, Calif., 7,12,15
los Angeles 1 nternational
Airport, 6
McConnell boys, 14
Mexican communities, 14-15
Murietta Hot Springs, 15
Neal family, 10
Newport Beach, Calif., 8,9
Oil industry
athletics within, 8
community involvement, 3,
12,15
companies, 3,9
See also individual
companies, e.g. Shell Oil
Company
equipment, 2,12,13
flagpoles erected by, 4
housing built by, I
leases, 3
shipping, 7-8,14
technical aspects, 2,3,12-13
workers, 2,3
Oldfield, Barney, I
01 inda, Calif., I
air shows in, 6
athletics, 4-5,8-9,10,12
businesses, 5, 7,9
See also individual stores,
e.g. Stern and Goodman
Store
community spirit, 9,12
1aheim, Calif., 8,9,11,
14
wheim Bulletin, 10
1aheim Stadium, 4
1geles National Forest,
II
mstrong, Jack, 2
:wood, Calif., 11,12,14-15
trnes, Alexander, 3-5
rd family, 10
ea, Calif., 9,10,11,14
ea Airport, 6
rea-Oiinda High School, 5
uena Park, Calif., II
;arbon Canyon, Calif., 13,15
:arbon Canyon Creek, 14
:armenita Grammar School, 8
:arnine, Herman, 3-4
;ase, Mr., 7
:hanslor-Canfield Midway
Oil Company, 3,8
:;hicago, Ill , I
Chino, Calif., 13
Citrus industry, 2,10
Cleveland National Forest, 5
Cochran, Jacqueline, 2
Columbia Lease, 3
Corona Races, 2
Crestmont Oil Company, 3
Depression, 3,6,10
Doolittle, Jimmy, 6
Drake family, 10
Drake's Creek, Ark., 10
El Modena Grammar School, 8
El Rodeo Riding School, 15
Fires, 13
Floods, 13-14
Fullerton, Calif., 1,7,8,9,
10,11,14
Fullerton Daily Yei\'S Tribune
10
Fullerton High School, I
Fullerton Junior College, 5
,
,_ '-' o..r ..; l o...; .,_.,,,
Getty Oil [Company], 3
Huntington Beach, Calif., 8
Indianapolis Races, 2
Irvine Park, 5
Jewel Tea Company, 5
Jewish community, 7,15
Johnson family, 10
Johnson, Walter, 5
La Vida Hot Springs, 15
Ledbetter family, 5,10
Lindbergh, Charles, 6
Los Angeles, Calif., 7,12,15
Los Angeles International
Airport, 6
McConnell boys, 14
Mexican communities, 14-15
Murietta Hot Springs, 15
Neal family, 10
Newport Beach, Calif., 8,9
Oil industry
athletics within, 8
community involvement, 3,
12,15
companies, 3,9
See also individual
companies, e.g. Shell Oil
Company
equipment, 2,12,13
flagpoles erected by, 4
housing built by, I
leases, 3
shipping, 7-8,14
technical aspects, 2,3,12-13
workers, 2,3
Oldfield, Barney, 1
Olinda, Calif., 1
air shows in, 6
athletics, 4-5,8-9,10,12
businesses, 5,7, 9
See also individual stores,
e.g. Stern and Goodman
Store
decline, 2,8,12-13,15
Depression, impact upon, 3,
6,10-11
economic classes, 6
employment patterns, 2,6,9
fires and fire fighting,
4,7,13
floods, 13-14
government, 12
housing, 1,6,10,11
medical services, 11-12
newspapers, 9-10
oil industry and, 1,3,4,
10,12
population, 2,10
schools, 1,2,3-5,9,15
See also Olinda Grammar
School and Brea-
Oiinda High School
settlement, 10
social and recreational
activities, 3,5,6,
8-9,15
streeu, layout of, 7,8
transportation, 7-8,12,14
utilities, 8,12
water system, 12
Olinda Grammar School, 1,2,
3-5,7,8,15
Olinda Land Company, 1,9
Olinda Park, 2
Olinda Picnic, 10,13,15
Olinda Village, Calif., 15
Olive, Calif., 14
Orange, Calif., 14
Orange County, Calif., 2,5,
10
Orange County Picnic Grounds,
5,8,
Osborne family, I
Ozark {Mountains], 10
Pacific Electric Red Car, 12
Placentia, Calif., 1,8,9,10,
14
Richfield, Calif.
See Atwood, Calif.
Riverside County, Calif., 2
Ross's Cafe, 9
St. Joseph's [Hospital], II
Santa Ana, Calif., 7,11
Santa Ana Community Hospital,
II
Santa Ana River, 13-14
Santa Fe Railroad, 7-8,12,14
Santa Paula, Calif., I
Seattle, Wash., I
Seattle-Tacflma Railway, I
Shell Oil Company, 3
Silverado C myon, Calif., 13
Smith, Lois, o
Spirit of St. Louis, 6
Stein and F 3ssell Store, 7
Stein and Strauss Store, 7
Stem and Goodman Store, 7
Stones Lake, 1,5
Swanson's r..afe, 9
Thomas, Mrs., 11-12
Thompson family, 10
Thompson Trophy Race, 2
Tidewater Oil [Company], 3
Tri-City L a ~ < e , I
Tuffree Reservoir, I
Turner, Roscoe, 6
Union Ice Plant, 9
Union Oil Company, 3
Van Patten, Harold Sr., 1,2,
3,12
Van Patten, Harold Jr.
birth, 1,3,10
childhood, I-2,6,S
education, 2,3,7
employmsmt, 9
father
See Van O..tten, 1-farold Sr.
grandparents, 1,11,12
mother, 1,5,10,11-12
residences, 1,9,12,14
Ventura, Calif., 2
West, Jessamyn, I
Westinghouse Electric Railway, I
World War I, 6
World War II, 15
Yorba adobe, 15
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Location of present day Carbon Canyon Regional Park and Olinda (circled in center)
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Loc.ition of present day Carbon CalYon Regional Park and Olinda (circled in center)
c Rood
r: Relocation of Carbon Conyol'
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Old Olinda Tract
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f'v ~ e n e Vc3n Ness J-iale 1
Of the seven interviewees represented in this volume, the first one to settle in
the Olinda area was Merle Van Ness Hale. Moving from Pennsylvania with her family
in 1909 to the Columbia Lease, where her father was employed by the Columbia Oil
Company, she entered the 01 inda School in the seventh grade. Later, while riding
the bus from Olinda to Fullerton High School, she met her future husband, Ray
Hale, and following their marriage they continued to reside in Olinda until 1920.
In her interview, Mrs. Hale recalls the spirit of informal living and friendliness
her family discovered in early 01 inda, and contrasts life there with that of her native
Pennsylvania. Interesting, too, is her account of the home occupied by the Van Ness
family . "After the house was built," she recollects, "it had an upstairs, which was
unusual for an oil region shanty ." Mrs. Hale also conjures up fond memories of the
Johnson family, not only of baseball immortal Walter Johnson, but also of his
brother Less and how she was "smitten" with him. Memorable as well is her
recounting of the excitement surrounding the arrival of a gusher at one of the well
sites. Two of the biggest to come in, she informs us, were Well13 and Well 1?., the
latter of which "came in with a roar and sprayed everything."
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This is an interview with Merle Van Ness Hale for the California State
University, Fullerton Oral History Program's Olinda Community History
Project by Jackie Malone at 1802 North Placentia, Fullerton, California on
July 7, 1979 at 11:00 a.m.
Now, Mrs. Hale, would you please tell me about your family background,
where you were born, and your early years.
I was. born in _Washington, Pennsylvania on February 23, 1896 on a Sunday
mornmg at feve o'clock. I think that's the earliest I've ever been up.
(laughter) I had two sisters and a brother. Mother wanted another boy but
she got me. I lived there for fourteen years, going to school in
which is so different from California. I practically memorized all the books:
and I memorized spelling chronological order. I wanted to get out of there
because my brother and I had to shovel snow every winter Saturday night.
We had a corner lot and we had to have our walks clear so the people going
to early church would have a little place to walk without being knee-deep in
snow. So I did everything I could to come to California.
Then my father's health broke ... in about 1909. He thought he was going
to die and he said, "Well, I'll go out and see if I can get ajob in California."
He walked from Fresno to Coalinga and couldn't get any work there. He
couldn't get any work in the Lost Hills _area. He to Fullerton on the
train. As he was walking, a car picked htm up--and tt was very rare at that
time to see a car. The fellow driving it was Ben Scott and he asked ?ad a l ot
of questions about what he did in Pennsy.lvania. Dad ;;as a
So the man said, "Well, I think I have a JOb for you. So that start
Olinda.
we picked out a lot. We couldn't own the land, but we could out a !ot
and build a house on it. After the house was built, it had an ups_tatrs,_ whtch
was unusual for an oil region shanty. I was so thrilled to be in Cal tfcrnta.
All of the rest of the family was crying about leaving Pennsylvania, and I was
shouting to the housetops. We had to rent two horses and a surrey to bring
us out from Santa Fe station in Fullerton to come up Chapman Avenue,
which ended at the little lbson store. That was Placentia. The only thing
there was a store and orange trees. Then we came by and saw the vegetables
at the "grasseaters" farm here on Placentia Avenue. Several families raised
vegetables and were non-meat eaters. We found out later that they delivered
a lot of those vegetables up in Olinda, and so we had fresh vegetables r ight
along from this wonderful farm down on Placentia Avenue. Developerscut
down the macadamia nut trees--they were about the only ones in Orange
County-for houses this year. So, it was all oranges, all the way out from
Fullerton to Olinda. And I was looking for Indians! (laughter) We saw a store
near .eo.lumbia Lease that fixed the boots. Men more or less wore boots in
the oel feelds, because they needed heavy shoes.
I was so glad. But it was awful for my sisters. They put up things in their
rooms that they brought from the station referring to back East excursions.
Mother took them all down. She didn't want to hurt Dad's feelings. It was an
awful adjustment for them-to come from a city. My sister and brother both
wo.-ked in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, and then to come out here to nothing.
Bu-c ' was aelighted. The restrictions were yone. We could go to ball games
on Sunda.y out here, and we couldn't possibly do that in the East. 1 had to
walk a mrle to the ?linda School, and 1 wasn't used to any sandwiches. 1 was
always used to havmg a warm lunch. So I walked a mile to school and then
at lunch we had an hour. Then I could walk home in fifteen minutes eat
and get back to school. I had to finish my seventh grade there at O l i n d ~
School. The schools were so different. I couldn't understand why the
youngsters here couldn't spell Philadelphia, and Pennsylvania, and things
that we had had to learn. They didn't know anything about Benjamin
Franklin. But then I was stuck, because I had a lot of poems to learn, and we
didn't learn poetry back there. So I had to spend most of my weekends until
school was out learning these poems. They said I had to learn them before 1
could go into eighth grade.
To me, the summers were delightful. There wasn't much to do. There was no
recreation. We had to make our own recreation--dominoes and checkers and
cards and reading. When my aunt came to live with Mother, she took all the
cards and threw them away. And Mother said, "Now listen, this is their
home, and if they want to play cards out here, well then that's fine." My
aunt said, "No, it's Satan's work." So we had a little trouble adjusting
her--an old maid. So summers went more or less like that.
And walking. We used to go up to Columbia Road to the boardinghouse. The
boss lived on one side, and he had a car. Ben Scott was a part owner, and he
had a car. Those were about the only cars at that time. The Columbia Lease
started with a bunch of drillers wanting to improve themselves and gamble.
They put everything they had and mortagaged everything they had to buy a
lease at the Columbia. It was a small lease compared to the rest of them.
They drilled twelve wells up on Irvine Hill. The lrvines worked for the
Columbia and lived on a hill. Oil was all black-real black, heavy stuff. They
didn't know what to de with it. Now they make roads out of it. So they
went as tar as they could in the other direction at the very cor;1er of their
lease. They just called it that well; they would never call it 13, until it came
in. It was a big gusher. The sumphole is still there filled with oil and water.
And the ducks sometimes get caught in it even yet. It's where you turn to go
to Union Oil from the refuse dump. You go up to the dump, and you turn
sharply at 13 to go to the Union Oil campground. Well 13 is still drilling.
Santa Fe drilled two wells as close as they could to 13, and the West Coast
drilled a well as close as they could. They had good wells, but they never
have gotten anything like 13. The environmentalists now would have
stopped that, but then they couldn't do it. Then the bosses started to drill
there at that end of their lease--16, 17 and 11?. Well 18 was right in line with
13. It came in on a Monday moming and women had their washing out, and
it came in a gusher. (laughter) But we didn't dare say anything, because that
was their men's living. Mr. Ferris--who was the brother-in-law of the
boss--lost his arm drilling. It someway got connected in the machinery.
2
That's the first time I ever heard of phantom pains. He used to practically
cry. He worked with that one arm, but he said the phantom pains were
terrible. He could feel the nerves in that one arm. After Well 13 came in a
gusher, the men knew that they were on easy street. They drilled about
twenty-one wells and all of them were good. After that they left the hill and
came down, and sold out to Union Oil.
There was a little missionary church sponsored by the Methodist church and
it was over in what they call Olinda proper--where the railroad was. It
seemed so strange to us to come to Fullerton to the station. Our mail was
Fullerton, our telephone was Placentia, and our freight came to Olinda. And
couldn't call it 01 inda, because there was already a town named 01 inda
tn Northern California. There still is. So that ended that. But there was a
little. church and we used to go to that. That was the Sunday
evenmg recreatron. Sunday afternoon recreation, after Sunday School and
dinner, was hiking. My father had taken me for long walks in Pennsylvania
hills and now he showed me the California hills. We'd walk from the
Columbia Lease up to the sulphur springs up there in Carbon Ca:1yon. He'd
drink the water. I couldn't touch it! But he'd say, "It's healthy." The reason
they had sulphur water up there is because they drilled an oil well up there
and it came in sulphur. So it took people later on to make a health resort out
of it-La Vida Hot Springs. So my dad and I would hike all over. We'd hike
from Columbia over the top of the hill to Brea, down into Brea Canyon, and
back again. He'd show me all the flowers and the plants they had. And then
going to school I had a long hour, at noon, and they didn't have much
recreation for us, so pupils hiked. At onetime in the hill where Olinda Park is
now, and before the school was built, they drilled a well, and it was a duster,
so they took all the machinery and everything away, and just left a scar
the hillside. Well, we kids would try to run up that hill and then back agam
before our hour. When I was at school in the eighth .grade, I took lunches
once in awhile, and then we'd do our recreation runnrng up and down that
hill.
The oil people were very friendly and quite loyal to each other, and always
he I pfu 1. They were migrants, and they went where the oil was. Wherever
they saw each other, they were friendly.
Our transportation was terrible. Down by the freight station in Olinda they
had a livery stable. You could rent a horse there, and go to Fullerton and
leave your horse in Fullerton, and vice versa. That was the only way you
could get to Fullerton. If all the horses were gone, you had to wait until you
could get a livery horse to Fullerton. and it was slow. Aileen Peck, who lived
across the street from us, had a horse and buggy with a jump seat in the
middle and she would take people to La Habra to the closest Pacific Electric
Car station. And so if we wanted to get to Los Angeles, we had to go to La
Habra and through Brea-which was nothing at that time, just a blank Union
Oil field. Later on Union Oil built the first building in Brea. Aileen met us
after we'd do our shopping in Los Angeles and come back in the evening on
the Red Car to La Habra.
They had two general stores in Olinda. One was Stem and Goocnan. They
took telephone orders and then delivered them. And then once a month,
when we paid our bills they left a bOx of candY Then later me saR peo:!e
I b&JiJt a store just where the fori< Of the roa IS
came in fr001 Anaheim and Road Right in mere was the saR
d CarbOn Canyon . p,nnsytVIIIJia and then
now, on VslenciB an .:hool m Sh taUght there
store. One of my hool the old green shoal e .
finished teaching at Olinda Sc the 'they said that to continue teaehlng she
until the end of v_ear_ and that was a 'i9tn She gar a job
had to tuwe a Cahtornsa JCense. -.-. _ ..__...... ...... ,......, oJdoe+
at Stem and GUQCimon .. _.___.there So they knew everybod t.ater
sister, Esta, got a job as a bOOkkeeper . she had been from
Esta got a job in Anaheim at the bank, beCaUse
Pennsylvania and spoke German fluently. So because she could talk German
she got a job right <May in Anaheim.
Then, the Wrights, who were related to the Key famil here, started a.lOther
church in Olinda near the SOR Store. I don't know what it Ve called
those who went there the Holy Rollers. They did rol n the ais e and that
was our entertainment for Friday night. ! laughter Thev had caiT1d
meetings. So we managed to get along without movies and te eviSIOn an
radio and what have you.
Going back to my sisters, Mathilda met Gus Segelhorst and married him and
Esta married Jim Hitchcock. Jim was manager of a shop at the top of
Fe hill, and they lived there. Mathilda and Gus were on the Standard 011
Lease and they lived at various places. Both of the men were shopmen, and
they thought 1 was a maverick because I married a farmer and not an oil
man. Farmers didn't make very much then.
I graduated from eighth grade, and they had a big reception for our c ass in
the hall at the top of Santa Fe hill. The bui ding is sti That was
the first time I had been to a graduation, becane van a the . d cm't
fool with such things. Graduating from eighth grade, st automatica y
did, or you quit. Most of them quit at sixteen to work , the factor.M baek
there. So graduation was something new for me. remembar the had a lot
of punch, and there was a big spoon in it. One man came hands up n the
air over his head, and grabbed that big spoon and said, .. Do you .want to
poison everybody? That's a lead SPOOn." It :a Gorn-n c ver or-
something. but not silV. So that was my first introelJction to chemimv.
Then after graduating I went to Fu lerton High Schoo on the h The first
couple of months we went on a flathod truelc. t ...... --un ...... ana fOIOing
chairs. The year before the S1lldents had a ws hau eel b. - es. George Key
has the pictures of those, as well as of the rst bus. One ra aay lhiKl an
umbrella on the bus and the folding chairs were wet Ra Ha e
1
nad to t on
so they stopped for him. So he sat down beside ge
married for fifty-six years. So 1 went to Fullerton Hi';Sc= ::
1

and then to Fullerton Junior College, where 1 graduated in 1917. '
Going back to the Olinda oil fields, it was interestiRQ t.h 'the men
\hat?ened t.he\t o'Hn dt\\\\nCA b\t.\. \ne-, wof\(.ed houn a da'l and those
-
cc
u-.
as
ar
c
They had two general stores in Olinda. One was Stern and Goodman. They
took telephone orders and then de erect them. And then once a month,
when we paid our bills, they left a box of candy. Then later the SOR peop!e
came in from Anaheim and bu t a store just where the fork of the road IS
now, on Valencia and Carbon Can on Road. in there the SQR
store One of my siste,.._Mathi da-taug/rt .chool m Pennsylvama and then
hoot the old gnHHJ .chool She taught there
finished reaching at Olinda Sc . . d -- to coniinue shB
L- and e tfle 5af UJCU b
until the end ol trw that was al ' ght with her. She got a JO
hed to h81110 a Califorma license. So When UW: SOR came in. mV oldest
a't S'tem and Goodman as a La
s\ster, Esta, gol. a \Qb as a thef'e. So \he't \u'le.... ter
Esta got. a iob in Anahe\m at the banK. becau5e she \"lad been trom
Pennsv\viin\a and spoke Gennan 1\uem\v. So because she cou\d ta\K German
she got a job right away in Anaheim.
Then, the Wrights, who were related to the Key family here, started another
church in Olinda near the SOR Store. I don't know what it was. We called
those who went there the Holy Rollers. They did roll in the aisle, and that
was our entertainment for Friday night. They had big camp
meetings. So we managed to get along without movies and television and
radio and what have you.
Going back to my sisters, Mathilda met Gus Segelhorst and married him and
Esta married Jim Hitchcock. Jim was manager of a shop at the top of Santa
Fe hi\l, and they 1ived there. Mathilda and Gus were on the Standard Oil
Lease and they lived at various places. Both of the men were shopmen, and
they thought I was a maverick becaJSe I married a farmer and not an oi 1
man. Farmers didn't make very much then.
I graduated from eiohth grade_ and thP.v had ;a fo, ou .. ..,40_ :,.
the hall at the tOP of Santa Fe hill. The buildina s stil staorlino_ TMt ..., .. .,
the first time 1 had been to a graduation, because in Pennsy vania they didn't
fool with such things. Graduating from eighth grade, 'you just automatically
did, or you quit. Most of them quit at s"xteen to work in the factories back
there. 5o graduation was something new for me. ,remember they had a lot
of punch, and there was a big spoon in it. One man came in, hands up in the
air over his head, and grabbed that big spoon and said, "Do you want to
poison everybody? That's a lead spoon. It was a German silver type spoon or
something. but not silver. 5o that was my first 'ntroc:kJction to chemistry.
Then after graduating I \Wnt to Fullerton High School on the bus. The first
couple of months we went on. atbeG truCk. t hila Sides on iC. and fotdfn9
chains. The year before the S11Jde - a s -- - b, ...,.. es. Georve Kev
has the pictures of those, as we' as - - e - - s. One rain dlrv ' had an
umbrella on the bus and the fo d - .. -..et Ray Hale had to get on
so they stopped for him. So he sat - me. \.1uch ater we were
married for fifty-six years. So I went .. - Schooi,Oass of 1915,
and then to Fullerton Junior College ua1ed in 1017.
Going back to the Olinda oil fields, -as .....
'"'" nril\inn Thev 'WOr\ced
g that the men there
_ a da and those
bits had to be sharpened before the next crew came on. Drillers would
sharpen the bits with a tool dresser. They had a cadence that th_ey _would
ding. ding. ding; you could almost tell who they were whether at mldntght or
daytime by the different rhythms that they had. Then later on,
were better they would take the drilling bits in and let the blacksmiths do It
in the machine shops. But in the early days, each man would do it, and they
all were big-chested, strong men. They worked, as I said, twelve hours a day.
At that time, the famous baseball pitcher, Walter Johnson, lived on the Santa
Fe Lease in Olinda. His sister moved up to Columbia and his brother Leslie,
or Less, worked as a driller. He was very much smitten with Esta-she said she
was too old for him--and I was smitten with Less. Walter's younger brother
was crazy about Esta. He worked in the SQR store. What a tangle! (laughter)
Well, the Johnsons were a grand family. The drillers were my idea of men
because they really could work and they all were loyal. And they liked
practical jokes-some cf them too much. I remember onetime Ray came up
with a horse and buggy. The door to my house was open and the horse was
tied to the gate. Those men put the back wheels on the front, and changed
the buggy wheels all around. The next day, Ray knew something was wrong
so he had to get up early before his father found out about it. (laughter) As I
say, they were very loyal and no matter where they went, if they saw one
another, they were family.
Then Columbia sold out to Union, but they let Dad work on. Dad was old.
At one time California had a poll tax and if you were sixty-five, you didn't
have to pay it. So dad wouldn't bother with it; he wouldn't tell them how
old he was. And so he kept on paying it each year to vote. He did rough
work, a lot of the pumping work, and he brought his old relatives out-the
old men-and put them on as pumpers. That was easy work. They couldn't
do drilling and any of that. They burned weeds with gas, because they had so
much gas. He burned the weeds and tried to keep up with the younger men
and lived to be eighty-one. During World War I when the flu epidemic hit,
the pumpers were still working their twelve hours, but they were all sleepy
and half sick. Dad came in and he said, "You've got to help me." 1 said,
''Well, what can I do?" He said, ''Well, I'm going to work a little bit more and
then I'm going to go home and get some sleep. Could you watch this big
boiler? I know you can do it." I knew that the steam valve popped up and
made a lot of noise if the steam got too much. Well, everybody in the lease
OUid know if somebody was sleeping or wasn't watching the job. He said,
.. ust keep watching that and turn the throttles." So he got a little sleep and
tnen came back on the job, and took care of boilers 13 and 18. So I took
care of the big boilers for 16 and 17. They were the biggest boilers in the
when they came in. They had teams of horses to haul that in and
, it up. 1 managed to stay awake from midnight until just before six
oc Then 1 went to sleep and the fellows came on the day job and said
t was a real oil-man now becaUse I could sleep on the job. I too
=.-ned to think that I had taken that fortY That was my first two
iWld a half dollars I'd earned by myself in the 011 fields.
Our houses didn't belong to us. so naturally people didn't build very good
M:
H:
._. ...... "" '" ..... a- - wa....-u.d c ........ out of the IN811. It was raw gas.
sometimes our ovens would catch on fire if the gasoline would collect in
tnere. And we usually had soda and a big cloth to snuff it out. I was always
afraid of fires-it's a wonder all of Olinda didn't bum. Then go
side of the house and we had a throttle and we'd bleed the hne-that
emptY the line of the raw gasoline. Then mother could go on wsth
baking.
At that time cars were coming into Olinda and men were buying them. Each
house had a throttle to bleed their own line. So if somebody wanted
gasoline, he'd bleed his line and run it through a chamois skin to take out the
water and put gasoline in his car. So he had free gasoline. (laughter) Then
Union Oil wanted to get some of this gasoline. They talked it over with Dad.
He told them how in Pennsylvania they would get gasoline from the oil. So
they decided to have a very small distillery. Dad built it. and put the
collecting pipes all around. At that time Union Oil and Dad talked about
taking gasoline from the mixed-in oil. Plans were made and circular pipes
were laid on top of each other and su"ounded by fire brick. Heat was put
under pipes and then cooled. The oil was pumped through pipes, and
gasoline was drained off. It was called oil cracking or distillery ,which started
getting gasoline from black oil out in California. Later on there 'Was a big one
the hill. The were suing the Union Oil for the patent. By
th1s time Dad had retired; he f1nally had to retire. Union Oil came down and
took him to San and hotelea him and fed him and all. He had to
sign an oath in court and answer a lot of questions in court that he was the
one who helped build the first one for Union Oi. So Union Oil got the
patent. And the Union had a big one.
In 1913, they had a freeze, so great that Ful erton High had to
was no heat. Everything was frozen. Oranges .o,ere frozr the smudgtng
didn't do any good and watering the trees d 0"1 t do an . 8;.;;:. "twas too
cold to go to school. Rav had a horse a1d blgg and e e a over the
country looking at the frost damage. Then ended up at 0 inda at the
distille"'!' the h.ill where my father was work"ng. c c es ung way down on
dlstJ llery Pipes. You see. the ,gas was neatett then I
pspes. It was just beautiful in California. (laaghter That' :0 bv water
and the avocados were gone That's wne s e oranges
man in Yorba linda had a f n the rt avocados came in, One
non rozen tree. H .
he made a fortune off that tree e ca edIt
California. se ng he buas for other trees in Southern
You mentioned the flu epic:te fter
Olinda? You mentioned that msc a World War I. Exactly how did it aft
detail about that? Wen! a I t sof me men were sick. Could vou go into ect
o o people out of wo k? W more
N
r . as there a lot of
ot too much bu they -
, t COUldn't work twelve h
too much about it. I got the fl ft ours a day. I don't remember
bad. I don't want that again! u a er Ray came home from the war. It was
The neighbors in Olinda were so good when the automobile came in. Dave
Ross, a great big man driller, and his wife would take me riding in it if I
would stay in the back seat and see that their son Gerald didn't jump out or
something. Dave just went on roads, and it was fun going places. It was the
first time I had been in a car much. Then dad got a Ford Model T. He took
such precious care of it. He constantly oiled and greased it. They had to do it
by hand then. Every time he went to Fullerton, he'd put grease in the grease
cups.
Then life speeded up after that and, as soon as they could, the oil companies
would get people off the lease. People got cars and most of them moved to
Brea or Fullerton and worked in Olinda. It was such a shock to us.
It was so hot out here. And, of course, it was an experience to have to use a
two-haler toilet. (laughter) Dad planted olive trees around ours. Last Easter 1
took my twins up--they wanted to know where I lived and so on-and 1 said
"There's the olive trees, they're still living, still producing." Dad planted
trees in the front yard for shade and those things are about half a
mrle hrgh now. Those eucalypti are still growing. The people usually planted
pepper and eucalyptus trees right away, because of the shade. Around Brea
Canyon and in there-those pepper trees are still
t ere. eople walked m those days. I had a boyfriend in h
come over f
8
C grammar sc ool
rom rea anyon up over the hill and down on the Columb'
we could go to church together. And we had to walk a mile to churchra
course, I w:s well with two sisters. The thing that I couldn't. get
over was t e moonlrght out here: the moon was so big and bright Co
h?me from chu_rch at night we used to brag about how we could.
Brble by moonlrght. I don't think you can now though. And the strawberries
were so big out here. I never saw strawberries I ike they had out here. And
the vegetables were so wonderfu I. The vegetarians would bring them up in
their surry and sell them to the oil people. We thought we were in the land
of Eden! We didn't mind the smell of the oil. It was noisy, naturally, with
those drills pounding twice a day. Then they got gas engines when we got rid
of the old steam engines. They were terrible--putt, putt, putt, all the time.
And then they got electricity engines to pump the wells. I think Well 13's. I
went around and looked at 13 not so long ago and it had electricity pumping
it. We'd take my dad for a trip to see his cousin in Upland and he couldn't
sleep because it was too quiet. (laughter) He missed the noise. And onetime
we took him over to Taft. He got out of the car and he breathed deeply and
he said, "Ah, this smells like real air." The old oil well smell. It's whatever
you get used to.
M: You mentioned that you rode the bus to Fullerton High School. Now was
this an automobile?
H: No, a flatbed truck. We rode in that until the bus came. Then they got an old
Randolph that had steps up for each seat and curtains. It would blow like a
fury in the Santa Ana weather, and rain always came in. Byron Gale, the
always be late. Byron would always know that somebody monkeyed
with the machinery. Most of the boys had to off. They d JUst hang on
to the arm and then jump off and slow down. But they stopped fo,r
Ray. His tather had the whole front of his place out here wtth S
seedless grapes. That's the first time I had ever seen them, So
then they'd give us all a bunch of grapes before we'd go home. I d1dn t mmd
the busing, but there are things that worry me now about busses. You make
friends on busses. Almost all of the girls that are married are married to the
same fe lows they went on the bus with . .
rr-y goc --.oc,_,.. bu ...... l'th ._._ --.-. :. ... Judng 'M$ U$f endly, Then
well. I wasn't on that too long. But the other
But them was one thing about busing that bothered me. 1 envied the town
girls who could prsctice their music until e:30 a.m. and then walk to s;chool
by 9:00a.m. We had to leave by 7:30a.m. for school, and usua y had to run
for the bus and get all dishelveled; the wind would blow us and we had to be
bundled up. We were in the wind with no curtains and no side. Oh, there .
were curtains but we didn't ride with them except in the rain. Sorn-;m ...
he 'd t the curtains down for the S.nut A .... but c;urtains didn't
t Y pu . twa
1
ked so mc;e and pnm. You could
stop the wind. Those town girls a ys oo , . 'ld ractice
tell the bus kids because they looked windblown. Town kids COU P
music and they could be in plays, which we couldn t do unless we had a boy
friend. Gilbert Kraemer, who was in my class, was abwt the only boy who
had a car. Ray had a horse and buggy. You were cut out of a ot of things by
busing. That's the reason why I like neighborhood schools. But didn't mind
I always came home hungry, famished. But had to wait until my
s1sters came home from work at six for dinner.
M: You talked about your hiking in the country with your father. Do you
remember animal life or plants or any other things ou 'saw on the hikes at
that time?
H: Well there were so many flowers in the spring, like yellow Johnn -jump-ups;
there hills of them. I don't see them now. And the ,smet of the sage
_'twas dry. There was so much clover that the hi Is wou d be covered
With lt. Not burr clover but a kind of . I
were a lot of oil roacts .I a_ mce cover. And of course, there
of, and they still do Those kept their roads well taken care
pulled from wells when rods were :.ok: the push rOds were
About eight years ago, somebody Phoned me .,
country away from it all. Oo You know and d, want to get m the
a way YOU've never been , W a Ptacen sala - take you to Brea
C;'nvon. She :e:u: toll c;:umbia and down the old road
said, lhat s a better road than a e o roads. laid ,.No .. <;:h
goes to an oil Well , (I h the one YOU \llolant to go on .. I ' IJ e
Canvon. . ter) We macte it on the o d h'll. ' sad, 'lhat
1
to T ormer
We COUldn't have any Christ .
aim st mas trees bec::au. me d"d
0 evervbodv in the ojJ district W0U d QQ UD r I n t_grow OUt here, So
ebodv had monkeved
ld always know that som iUst hang on
be \ate. Byron wou had to mp off. ,.-:;;, ---n for
a\wavs . Most of the bO " But theY a wavs .
with the machnerY . rnp off ana 5 dOW" here th 11\M\P'OO s
to
the arm and thef\ Jl is place out c... he'd wtOP _,d
had the who e seen them- _, d
Rav. His father That's the first me had ever 'd home- didn't m\0
seed\ess a a buncn before we go out busse5 You make
then the' d ':f I e .. 5 are ngs that worrv me now ab ed ant married to the
the bUsing. btrt mere ost Ia of the !jrls tnat are st friendly. Then
friends on . h Everythnlg was JU
same fe OW' the' ent_on the .either side and I didn't that tO: .
theY got another bus ong But the other bus was just a plaan old trUC
we I wasn. on that too ong. . that bOthered me. I envied the town
But. there was one thing buSU'9 nti a.m. and then walk to schoOl
girls who cou d practice their 73o"'a m for s;hOO I and uaually had to run
by 9:00 a.m. We had to b . e wou d blow us and we had to be
for the bus and get a' with no curtains and no side. Oh.
bundled up. We were the them except . n the ,ram. Sometlmes
were curtains but didn t :r the Santa Ana winds. but wrtains didn't
they'd put the wrtams dowc:' looked
50
nice and prim. Vou could
stop the wind: 91 own. Town l<' ds cou d practice
::a:;:s: c:ld be i:lays, which we cou dn't do un ess we had a
friend. Gilbert Kraemer, who was in my c ass, was about the on Y w o
R had a horse and buggy. You were cut out of a ot of thmgs.by
had a car. ay .......
1
rke nei.rmborhood schools. But 1 didn't m.nd
busing That's the reason .,.. .. y ' . .
1
1 always came home l'ungrv. famished. But I had to wat unt my
sisters came home from work at six for dinner.
M: You talked about your hiking in the countf\1 our father. Do you
remember animal life or plants or any other th ngs ou saw on the hikes at
that time?
H: Well there were so many flowers in the $pring, tke ye low Johnny-jump-ups;
there were hills of them. I don't see them now. And the snell of the sage
when it was dry. There was so much clover that the s ;would be covered
with it. Not burr clover, but a kind of an ce clover. And of course, there
were a lot of oil roads because oil companies 'kept their roads well taken care
of, and they still do. Those wells had to be cared for and the push rods were
pu\\ed from weUs when rods were broken and rep aced.
About eight years ago, phoned me ald said. "I want to get in the
COUntry away from it aJI. 0o you know a plac:e71 -id ....... uake you 1;<;> litrOQ
a way you've never been." We went up to Co umbia and down the old road
into Brea Canyon. She started to follow ,a I the oi roads. I said, "No." She
said, "That's a better road than the one voo want to go on." I said, ''That
goes to an oil well." (laJghter} We made it on the old hin road tQ Tonner
Canyon.
nrn"" n111' .._ .. ,..,.
. e weren't burned out, I don't know! But most
even had candles on lt. Why w. 'th holly on it Then Long Beach
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l'f nia Chnstmas tree WI .
everybodY had a a I or . . kloads up to Brea Canyon and they JUSt
heard about it and In With. that you couldn't pick it. They just
diluted the hills until we made It a h t we call the eucalyptus grove
took truckloads. We liked to up s;e trees once in awhi I e. I don't
above old red schoolhouste. a path and somebody planted about
know
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f you can now or no . . t
five eucalyptus trees up there. We went up and our JOY was to cu
initials in those trees with a heart. There were wildflowers, also. I guess I sa1d
that, didn't 1? We didn't see any horehound like in Pennsylvania. I brought
some of the high school teachers out. They like to slum! Some drove out and
1 took them out in the canyons and they couldn't get over it. Some wanted
to walk, and I said, "Well, my dad and I will walk you." I took her on some
of my favorite walks toward Brea. I liked to go on top of the hill . Our mail
came from Fullerton. At onetime we didn't get a lot of mail. People were
complaining about not getting their advertisements. They sent an inspector
out. The mailman had thrown away all the mail he didn't think was
worthwhile. He wasn't going to open every mailbox! They found that mail
along the road off the hill. He delivered to Brea, came up the hill, and then
came down on the Columbia. Well, he had to stop and open every mailbox
to put that throwaway mail in. Well, he got rid of it and they fired him.
After that we had an awful time, because he knew us and he'd sell us stamps
and help us out. This other fellow didn't do anything. Our Sears-Roebuck
catalog stuff had to come through the 01 inda freight station.
M: Could we talk a little more about the town of Olinda? What did you do if
someone got sick?
H: Prayed. (laughter) Well, we went to Fullerton. When Mother was sick we had
cars. Everybody helped everybody.
M: When children were bom, did expectant mothers go to Fullerton or were
babies bom at home?
H : My sister went to Fullerton, to the old Fullerton hospital there. Mother died
there. 1 don't know, they all had kids-lots of them. Columbia was a very
small lease. I don't imagine there were more than ten or twelve houses. And
then it went over to Union Oil. Blanche Hale's family had children here and
they were born at the Union Oil Lease. I don't know about sickness because
people were healthy.
M: How did you do your shoppi ng? You mentioned the two stores ...
H : Yes, those were the grocery stores. Well , Mother and my sisters would go
into La Habra on horse and buggy and shop in Los Angeles. Mother would
buy my school clothes there in Los Angeles. We were so glad when the Red
Car came to Brea. That was so close. Then it came to the Loftus Station.
Then it came right up here on Valencia. Palm trees were planted around the
car stop; those palm trees are still there, if they cut. them down for
houses.
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looked at those trees and my kids couldn t bel1eve 1t. They planted
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ld -k about three-Quarters of a
round 1910. We were so glad. we Car went on to Linda.
the railroad station, and_ We didn't feel quite so ssolated.
rna made us qutte CIV'
5o then having cars
to schOOl?
"nd then in 1920 to go
5o you left Oh a, . . f California,
' C.. I [ UtuvenutV 0
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raduated from
husband and
Yes. My mmer of 1921.
Berkeley l in the su
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. d you come back to \S a .
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live with Ray's folks. They had an extra
Well, we came back from college worked here until he knew what we
house here a hired man's house. ay
. 'to do Then we went up to Delano and farmed.
were gosng
Then when did you come back after that?
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w t forty years in the San Joaquin
Well, we came down here an 196 . e spen .
Valley. (laughter) We lived in Delano and Portervslle.
Did your sisters stay in Olinda?
No. Mathilda moved to Brea and then to Fullerton. Esta lived in Olinda at
the top of the hill and stayed there quite late. Then her husband was
transferred. The Santa Fe sold to CCMO [Chanslor-Canfield Midway Oil
Company 1 and they transferred him down to Torrance and so they moved
After being a pumper under Oad for awhile, my brother cut out of
Ohnda.
What was the name of the man your sister Esta married?
Jim Hitchcock. Yes, he was a wonderful man. Everybody loved him. One
fellow says, "I go to church and I think I'm a Christian, but I'm not near the
Christian that Jim is, and he doesn't go to church."
Just a fine person.
Yes, he was. When we came down here we took seninr c
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, "' "" e s 1ps to some
marve ous places. And we got to know everybody s 11 w
a trip one day' and I usually walk down a ws . I o '; . e were gomg on
think, "Now, do 1 want to know the e 'a see the oeool9
tho
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, rn or not. I - ono ....,.. ... ,
Ugnt, d lrJce tu kno- hvr -ntrr." ""L over ana sne IIStd.
"May I sit down with you paople7 You look like my kind of' paopl"'-" I
'Well, it's mutual." She was Jessie Isbell and she lived across the street
Jim Hitchcock and Esta, and she taught school in She knew my nsccc
and nephew and the Hitchcock kids. We had so much '" common! After that
H - 1 t. "fu nnv t-..o"W'V "hl nga
we took trips and went to ._. .. --.. - -
around.
on Olinda?
a en to know how tne
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Well, of course, they laid off a lot of men. But no, really I don't know
because we were living in Delano at that time.
Your sister had moved to Brea, so a lot of other people were moving too.
Yes. Mathilda died at forty-three. She had an infected tooth and went to a
young dentist. He pulled it and the poison ..wnt right to her brain. They
took her into Good Samaritan Hospital in Los Angeles. They wouldn't pu II it
today, they wouldn't allow it. But they didn't know then.
We've talked a little about the recreation. But I'm vvondering if you had
dances and this kind of thing up there on the Olinda leases.
They did, at the Olinda part, at the top of Santa Fe hill in a recreat.ion hall,
but 1 didn't do it. 1 wasn't too much on that. We were still from
Pennsylvania. There were a lot of taboos. (laughter)
You mentioned that you went to the Methodist church . . .
Yes. A Methodist Episcopal church, and later just a Methodist church.
What would you do in this church?
Well, it was just like a regular church. They had Sunday School, then church
afterwards and again at night.
Were there social activities connected with the church?
No, everybody made their own recreation. There was a lot of dri nking and
poker and cards and that kind of stuff, but we didn't know it. (laughter) 1
wanted a baseball diamond and they didn't have that, so Less Johnson said
maybe we could have a baseball diamond for the kids, just at the end of the
street or the that comes up to Well 13 goes into the hi lis. We
worked at for awhile. The folks said they'd buy me a croquet set if we
cou I? level 1t off. But it was so sandy and horses would go over it , so we had
to 9
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Ve up. We played mostly cards--Flinch and different games lil-e
different homes. My parents just saw to it that that was it . We rea'd
t e ,B1ble, of course, but we couldn't do much else you can't when
don t have cars. ' you
Well, Mrs. Hale, this has been interestin f , .
thoroughly, and I want to thank 9 or me. I ve enj oyed this
h
you very much fo .
s anng your memories of 01 ' d p r giving us your time and
. . In a. erhaps we c t lk I.
your life 1n Ol i nda in a second . . an a a 1ttle more about
1nterv1ew?
Oh, would be splendid. Let's count on it.
END OF Fl RST INTERVIEW
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This is a continuation of the interView with Mrs. Merle Van Ha.le by
Jackie Malone at her home at 1802 North Valencia, Placentia, Cahfom1a, on
Sunday, July 8, 1979 at 1:30 p.m. in the afternoon.
Now, Mrs. Hale, would you continue with description of ;n the
teens and elaborate on some of the infonnaton you gave me yeste daY

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happened to think aboUt the water. I don't
Well, since our last

. awful tasting. They had these
know where they got their water, but at was
They had a boiler house and the engines for the wells were
steam engmes.
run by steam. So my brother and my father collected the water, and we had
distilled water from the steam. Then they brought it home and put it in an
olla. It was the first time I had ever seen a Spanish olla. My dad made a tight
wooden cover on it-some people use plates oot he wanted it covered
well-and we had a dipper in the oil a, and when we wanted a drink, we could
dip it out and pour the water in the glass. That's the way we got our drinking
water. When the men had to wash their clothes, the pumpers had to clean
the derricks. The rods would be pulled and then stored n the derrick while
they replaced the broken rods. The derrick ...,... -'ul hlack oil and
the pumpers had to clean the derrick My brother and father
have to just take a wooden shovel, you mtght say, and shovel that Oil out,
and their clothes were stiff with grease. We couldn't possibly get it off. Well,
men built boxes around the boilers and the steam pipes, and then they put
their clothes in there and put White King wash powder over it; then they'd
let the steam go through that, and they'd come out with beaJtifully cleaned
They used everything they could then. That took care of our
drtnkmg water. but our vegetables and fruit heel to be kefK. They built a bOx
with a screen around it and the ever-present gunny sack was wrapped around
the olla with a little bit of cloth in water on top of the container to keep the
water dripping and to keep things cool in containers. And then they wrapped
it around the box and put a pan of -.wter on top and then ta1 water down
over the gunnysack and the screen. That kept the egetab e box cool. We
needed shade in a hurry and we just couldn't get it so the planted morning
glories over the back porch for quick shade to shade the hanging olla and the
vegetable box. Then they planted honeysuckle aiong with t and
50
in time
honeysuckle took over and the morning glory died down. We had an
ICebox and each week we got our ice from Stem and Goodman. along with
OUr Vegetables. They did None of t'-m used coal. or I think they
would have delivered coal. (laughter)
How did your mother do the family wash"ng?
Well, she had a small washing machine that ran b h .
forth-and a ringer' and that was for the beddi y and-rt back. and
And we had a clothesline out in the backyard '!:nd thfathose ktnds of
with Cart d h my was so smitten
I 0m1a an. e \oved cactu.-1 hcnecl them. He planted them and they
were always getting near the c\othesline. ( au hter) That was a tamilv

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cook, Miss Walker, and they really served wonderful meals.
Could you talk a little more about the Johnson family?
Well, Walter Johnson and his family lived on the Olinda Lease--the Santa Fe
Lease--and he was so famous. Then he went on to Fullerton High, and then
finally ended up in Washington, D.C., and broke all sorts of records as a
major league pitcher. He had such huge shoulders and long arms that people
remarked about it. His brother, Less, who was the youngest driller on the
Columbia Lease seemed to have the same shoulders. It seemed strange that
Less could be a driller at eighteen, because every driller had to serve time as a
tool dresser, under a driller, to leam to drill and to learn to sharpen the bits.
If the bits weren't sharpened, they didn't dri II very fast. And yet, Walter's
younger brother, who was about my age, was a small, thin fellow. I don't
know what he was like when he was a man, but as a teenager he was very
small. They were a grand family. His younger brother lived with his sister,
and Less lived in the bunkhouses. Columbia had nice bunkhouses, and then
this nice boardinghouse. So the single men didn't want to leave very often.
Could you describe the bunkhouses?
They were low, like motels are now, an
d opened up onto the street.
Would a man have his own room?
It was small They said they were good beds. I
Yes a man had his own room. h. . l'ke that or changed the sheets,
' h or anyt 1ng
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don't know who made t em, h t ome leases have, because t ey
d' d 'thavetheturnovert as .
and so on. I n d men. So many had invested their money m
to_ok care of lthand thterty hal know when they started. We came in 1910,
w1th the bunc to s a S t
and 13 had been drilled by then. So 13 is what put them on easy street.
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was before then, and they were really worried, because they had put
everything they had into that one lease, but they came out gloriously
afterwards. I think 21 was the last of the wells that I saw. Each well had its
own personality. We just felt toward them like family.
Mrs. Hale, what is a sumphole?
Well, it's a place where water and oil would drain in, the lowest place
around_. The biggest sumphole I know is north of Well 13, up here on
Valenc1a. had these big gushers and the oil had to go someplace. And it
went down m t here. There are very few things that will grow in a sumphole
because of the oil. And it ' s still there, that's what gets me; it hasn't been
and nothing's grown over it. Usually nature will try to grow
somethrng over the scar, but it's still there.
Well, did they ever use them as storage basins, or was it always a natural
phenomenon?
I don't know, but the ones that I know of were naturaL There were
13
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barrancas; Columbia wasn't level by any means. They had barrancas behin?
some of the houses across the street from us. That was where t.he 011
sometimes would flow from the wells. They were very careless 1t,
they had a lot of gas and sometimes they had lights. The Columbia put 1n
their own electrical lights. At first gas mantel lights were used. :hey .had a
lot of machinery to make their own electricity so as to have hght 1n the
houses and wells. So they'd want everybody to use that. That was above the
bunkhouse and the eating house. That was quite a help to us. But
couldn't have any gadgets. It was just for purposes: But they d1d
have water and oil. Wherever there's drainage, there s always 011. They had so
much gas and they used to bum these lights; we called them the etemal
flame. Then after Union Oil began making gasoline, all that stopped. There
were no more lights, because they used every bit of the gas to go through the
distillery to get gasoline.
Oh, about the sidewalks. Dad mixed oil and adobe for walk$. There was this
kind of adobe up there and my dad built the walks. He built them high and
then put on a layer of dirt and a layer of oil that he brought from anywhere.
So we had nice oil walks to the gate, to the front road and to the back road.
It was an awful mess. Durin"g the summers sometime, it would kind of melt,
so we couldn't use it. (laughter) It was a little different then than it is now.
But we didn't have any gardens because we didn't have much of a yard. We
could have trees, but we couldn't have gardens, on account of the water.
And anyhow, most everYthing was sprayed with oil. After a gusher or two
we just took it .in stride. That a man's living, SO we \Wr:e alWays Qlad fOr
a gusher. The bggest were Well 13 and Well lo they -
I remember that came in gushers. 'the only ones that
Well tell me ... h t ,. .
, "' a was t ke when 1 came In a guSher?
It came in with a roar.
Would it roar first?
I don't remember. I don't know about 13 because 'wasn't there. But 18
came in on a Monday morning, and it came in with a roar and sprayed
everything. They capped it right away. They were getting expert enough to
stop it as soon as they could.
It would just start roaring and pouring oil everywhere?
Well, from down here in Yorba Unda-the Chapma
barranca near Palm. We heard it on Va encia Avenue an ns bought on
Mr. and his were standing there
them. !he otl was shc;x>t1ng clear up above the derrick from that gusher. My
father-tn-law was gotng to buy that and and he d 'Wh
th" h ' sat o can ra1se
any mg tnt at barranca?" So the Chapmans bought it. laughter)
Mrs. Hale,, on .behalf of California State Uni.ersity, Fullerton, Oral
History Programs Olmda Community History Project, thank you very much
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Lo1s Muzzall Smith 2
Two years aher Merle Van Ness Hale moved to Olinda in 1911, the Muzzall
family, accompanied by their daughter Lois, migrated from Oklahoma and settled
on the H.all Lease, which was later called the West Coast Lease. Like Mrs. Hale, Mrs.
Smith also attended 01 inda School, from which . she graduated in 1920, and
Fullerton High School.
Mrs. Smith's interview sparkles with recollective gems about old-time Olinda.
In it the reader will find a quaint description of the two rows of houses on her lease
which the residents humorously dubbed "Poverty Row" and "Prosperity Row."
More significantly, the intervi ewee sets the record straight about a well-traveled
misnomer when she responds to her interviewer's question of "Do you remember
much about the town of Olinda itself?" with the rejoinder: "That is a wrong
impression people have; there was no such thing as a town." What she lays emphasis
upon instead is the autonomy of each of the leases comprising the Olinda oil fields,
as evidenced by her comment that "the kids on the West Coast Lease would cling
together over the kids on the Columbia Lease if we got in some little argument." In
addition, Mrs. Smith offers a vivid portrait of the dayto-day routine at the Olinda
School, the pattern of shopping for 01 inda residents, the natural of the
and, on a more personal note, her visits to nearby La Vida Hot Spnngs and how 1t
served as the setting for her first dance.
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This is an imerv ew LOs uzzall Smith for the California State
University, Fu erton Ora stor\ Program's Olinda Community History
Project by Chris Sandstrom at 328 Arovista, Brea, California, on July 6,
1979 at 1:10 p.m.
You said hat , ' fami came here when you were six years old. What
made au fam decide to come to Orange County, and what was the town
of 0 nda ke when ou got there?
parents came out in September of 1911. There were four children in the
fam 'm the third with nw older brothers and a younger sister. My
mother had a brother who had come to California in 1908. He wanted her to
come out with her family because he felt her health would be better here.
That was the reason we came. When we came, he met us at the old Fullerton
depot. They had what I guess you call a two-seated buggy. We came from the
Fullerton depot, through the dirt roads, out through Palm Drive, out toward
Placentia, where he lived on the Hall Lease. A week or so later, knowing
certain people in the area, my uncle was able to help my father get a job
working for the old Hall Company-later called West Coast Lease, and then
later Tidewater Associated. My father worked on that job from the time he
came to Olinda until the time of his retirement. In the meantime, my folks
had worked hard and sent us kids to school. They saved and bought several
pieces of property in Brea, hich were very cheap. I went to the old Olinda
Schoo with m o der two brothen and younger sister, and graduated in
1920. From there wem on to Fu lertcn High School and took a
commercia bus ness course. Through business placement with the school in
the Commerc a Department, was paced in a real estate/insurance office
owned by Harry Ustick. H s ife Margaret was the secretary to A. S.
Redfern. the pnnc1pa of Fu erton H gh School. I worked for him for a year
and a half. Then when the Oi fie,ds National Bank in Brea was to open, I
placed my appfcation, and rece ved a job as one of the original crew in the
bank. That was in 1926, and worked there for several years. Since that
time. I have worked for approx'mate , forty years in the business world. 1
worked for Shaffer Too Works doing secretarial and office work in their
office. I aim worked for John D. Sievers, an early pioneer here in Brea. He
had lemon groves just off of Imperial near where I live now. After I left
Shaffer. I became City Clerk for the City nf Braa. Tho lady who tht::rt
C1ty Clerk, Grace L May, had been there twenty-five years and had to give
up the work because she had a heart condition. I put my application in to
the members of the city council, who considered mine along with seven
others, and was appointed to the cit c erk's office unanimously. I wasn't
satisfied in politics. 1 didn't ike the way a lot of things went. So I got out
and found another job in the oi tool business-which paid the most money
in those days. 1 commuted back and forth to a position in Santa Fe Springs.
When I retired, I felt Yen/ happy that I had worked in various places and
gained a lot of experience, because I know how to take care of my own self
now that I'm alone.
You were about six years old when you came to this area, were you not?
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Yes,
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. A ust 25th and we came here in
Yes I was six years old. My brrthday was ug
the 'month of September in 1 G1 1.
Can you remember what your first impressions were when you drove into
town?
Yes, 1 can very vividly see this two-seated buggy--shay, it might be called. I
don't know the western terms--l've lived in California too long. I know my
uncle, Bill Berry, walked across what was then Spadra--it's now Harbor
Boulevardto the packinghouse and came back with oranges, which looked
as big as a bucket. Back in Oklahoma, the state I came from, we only sav.: an
orange at Christmastime in our stocking. Then, too, we came along
Palm Drive ... as you turn off of Commonwealth and come along Placer.tra
Avenue which curved easterly onto Palm Drive where the old Bradford home
is. I looked at all these gorgeous, big palms up with those big fronds. The
Bradford house impressed me all the time that I went to high school, because
we went right by it on the bus. We would always stop to take Katherine
Bryan-whose mother was married to Bradford--and her brother to Ful lerton
High School.
How did you travel to and from Olinda?
We went up Valencia Avenue, an all-dirt road--it wasn't paved in those
days--and it took you by dirt road clear up to Carbon Canyon Road. The
leases were on every direction on both sides of Valencia were
to the east and west. The lease that I I ived on-the West Coast Lease--was to
the west of Valencia Avenue. It's on the way up to the dump now, as the
road's been changed.
What was the lease like?
When we first came there, the persons who had the most seniority, when
there was a vacancy, were allowed to rent the houses. When we first came to
California, we only had gas lights and they were piped into the house.
mother had to buy the gas mantles and keep them clean at night. But later
on electricity was installed and even later on we had inside toilets.
How many houses would be on a lease?
There were two rows of houses on the lease I lived on. One was the older
houses. The people who lived there had the habit of calling the older houses
"Poverty Row." The newer houses, where we lived, they called "Prosperity
Row," and we used to have a lot of fun kidding each other about that.
What was the house like?
It was just a wooden structure. Some had two bedrocms. Ours had three
bedrooms, which we needed, because we had the two boys who had to room
together and us two girls. My mother and dad had their room. After the
inside plumbing and everything was in, they were just as comfortable as this
house I live in now, though maybe not as modem. They had t\YO ladies that
would upkeep the houses-they did the painting and the papering. If one
wanted to have their house improved in some manner, the men would always
have their wives ask their boss, because he was the one who would give them
permission to do it I know my mother was put up to it t\YO or three times
when she was griping about the place. My father said, ''Well, you'll just have
to ask Pat Maley." He was the boss; one ofthe good old Irish bosses we had
in those days. After "Pat," the boss was Martin Mears, then Ed Curtis. Curtis
was one of the earty members of the Brea-Oiinda School Board.
CS: Did you have a garden in Olinda?
LS: My father had a garden, and he had everything in it; we always had string
beans, raspberries and had even taken the old pipes that
were g:rapped from the lease and made his racks for them to grow up
on-and any kind of vegetable you'd want. Being from Oklahoma, we like
corn and okra and thW1gs that Southern people like. He would always have
those, and plenty of radishes, cucumbers, a1d little onions. We also
had two trees that he planted: apricot and peach. In fact, the men from the
main offtee would come and look at the places to see how they were kept
up, Our own appeared in ooe of the Associated Oil magazines as a
mode I home, and I was real proud of that.
CS: As a little girt, what was your day ike?
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We had plentY to do, because itt e fir s in those days had to help their
ne I had to he P my mother becaJse had twa older brothers, and
mot ironed. My mother even made us press out the cotton
everyththtng had tobrotbehe.. and dad wore Our sheets and dish towels and
socks at our . , .
everything had to be ironed. But ,,, tell you one thang, 'don t do that
, wash up, hang them on the line, fo d them up mce, and put them 10
the drawer.
CS: After all that, did you still have time to play7
LS: Oh, yes. My mother always said, .. Get your chores finished, and then you
can oo and play." Soma of the k"ds that were the only child in the family
would be outside ye ng, "Lois and Julia, come on out and let's go take a
little walk or something." . v mother would say, "No, you have to finish
yoor chores." .'m glad I was brought up that way because it taught me
responsibility.
CS: When you got to go out and pay what did you do?
LS: We'd go out and pick. violets in the hills, Of these on on f\owers-beautifu\
purple onions flowers. We would go up into Tonner Canyon over the hill
there by the sheepherder's house, and down into the ttle hills where the
n:atural trees grew. There was a little pond thent, and remember one
t1me us g1rls all off lower part of our clothes d .
an went 10 wadsng.
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inside plumbing and everything was in, they were just as comfortable as this
house I live in now, though maybe not as modem. They had two ladies that
would upkeep the did the painting and the papering. If one
wanted to have their house improved in some manner, the men would always
have their wives ask their boss, because he was the one who would give them
permission to do it. I know my mother waJ put up to it two or three times
when she was griping about the place. My father said, 'Well, you'll just have
to ask Pat Maley." He was the boss; one of the good old Irish bosses we had
in those days. After "Pat," the boss was Martin Mears, then Ed Curtis. Curtis
was one of the early members of the Braa-Oiinda School Board.
CS: Did you have a garden in Olinda?
LS: My father had a garden, and he had everything in it; we always had string
beans, raspberries and blackberriet-he had even taken the old pipes that
were scrapped. from the lease and made his racks for them to grow up
on--and any ktnd of vegetable you'd want. Being from Oklahoma we like
com and okra and things that Southern I l"k '
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those, and plenty of radishes. peop e e. He would always have
had cuwmbers_ and httle green onions. We also
apkricotheand peach. In fact, the men from the
00
at t P aces to see how the k
up. Our own place appearecJ in one of the Associated Oil m Y ept
model home, and I was real proud of that. agaztnes as a
As a little girt. what was YOUr day like?
We had Plenty to do, because littl . I .
I had to help my mothe/ those days had to help their
everythng had to be ironed. My th had two older brothers and
socks th rno er even made '
at our brothers and dad us press OUt the cotton
;wervthing had to be ironed. But Our shee:S and dish towels and
up, hang them on the line, ttung, do that now;
er. m up Olce, and put them in
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After all that. did You st'l .
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Oh, y-. M
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nme to play?
Y mother alwan said "G
can go and play , Som ' et Your chores fin
WOU,Id be OUtsi . . the kids that were the then you
little walk or Lois and Julia, come ononly chtld the family
Your chores., ,.met '"9- My mother WOUld sa ,. out and let s go take a
responsibility. m glad I was brought up that Y. Nbeco. you to finish
way ause It taught me
When YOU
90t to go out and I
We'd Pay, what did YOU do?
go out and Pick . .
Pl.lrple onions fl \fiOiets n the hill
there by the owers. We Would o ':or these onon fl
natural oak sheepherder's house 9 up Into Tonner Can OWers-beautiful
t" trees gre T and down . Yon ove the .
me us girls all took :ff here was a little P mto the little hills..:_ hill
the lo\Ner P Olld there a ...... l ""''ere the
art of no r .. , 'U re
I
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h
. 't as one of the oil workers,
we heard somebody coming through the brus , I W . .
and we really hid! We'd do little silly things like that, JUSt explore l1ke young
kids do nowadays if they get out in the hills. We didn't know we were poor;
we just had fun. We had a lot of love, and that was the most important thing.
Do you remember much about the town of Olinda itself?
That is a wrong impression people have; there was no such thing as a town.
There was a line put in by the Santa Fe Railway there, and at t ~ e end where
the line had a depot they put the name "Oiinda"there. The railroad tracks
extended to a point for the loading of the oil tanks with oil drilled from the
oil wells in the Olinda area. "Olinda" was on the station and on the
schoolhouse built in 1909. Up above Olinda Station was the Santa Fe Oil
Lease, owned by the Santa Fe Railroad. It's what most people think was
Olinda. There were just a few stores there. There was a mercantile store that
had everything--shoes, and food, and all that--there was a barbershop, and a
Methodist Church, plus a livery stable. I think that's about all, at that time.
Over on the lease that we lived in, as you come in on Valencia, there was
a n ~ t h e r little group of buildings; there was a John Martin drugstore, a
Chmese bakery--a two-story building there and a Chinaman with one of the
'?ng braids who ran the bakery--then there was a barber shop, and at one
t1me there was some other little business in there, but 1 can't remember
exactly what that was. We lived just a short ways from that, as did all the
people on the lease. And there must have been at least 150 people on our
lease alone. There were two rows of houses on each side of the street and
they run as far as three blocks in a city. I'm just estimating that, but there
must have been at least 150 people on our one lease. To the north was the
Columbia Lease, which was not quite as large, and there were quite a few
people there. Down below us was the Stearns Lease, that was Union Oil
Property, and there were quite a few houses. It was in and around the hi II
where the old Union Oil park is now--they still have that open for certain
meetings, picnics and things. There must have been equally as many on the
Union Oil as there were on the West Coast where I lived--which was
Tidewater Associated later on. It's been reported that there were only forty
people going to school in the whole of Olinda. That is absolutely way off. I
have pictures here that we cou ld count, and I'm sure there would be perhaps
closer to one hundred and seventy-five.
1 have my brother's graduating picture from 1915. It shows the eighth
graders down to the first graders. We had no kindergarten in those days; that
didn't come till later. That's really a misnomer when it is said that there were
only forty students out there because most people had families. Some of the
unmarried people in the offices didn't have families. But it was quite a
settlement. The kids on the West Coast Lease would cling together over the
kids on the Columbis Lease if we got in some little argument. The West
Coast kids would hang together. We laugh about it now when we go to the
picnic, how some of us girls used to get in a quarrel and we wouldn't even
walk along the same side of the road; one would walk on one side, and the
other on the other, on the way home from school.
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Was there anything etse around the school?
There was a big row of pepper trees. They not only had the school, but they
had little barn structures where the boys made little furniture pieces, like
little tabarets, and littte stands.
How many teachers did they have when you went there?
Well, one teacher usually had two grades, with the exception of the eighth
grade. For example, first and second-first would be on one side of the room
and second on the other; and then maybe the third would be on one side of
the room and the fourth on the other. I remember one of my brothers was a
year ahead of me and I was in the same room as he was. In music the
teachers to draw the scale on the board and then girls and boys alike
would have to stand up and sing the scales: do re, mi fa, so, Ia, ti, do. I
remember some of the bigger boys balked at that. and this teacher would
come over with a ruler, make them stick their hand out, and hit them on the
hand because they wouldn't sing the scale. (laJghter)
What other memories do you have about going to school in Olinda?
The school bell on top of th bu "I d.
at which time we all linea up e w :;: us to class in the morning,
marched to our respective standing in command we all
march being played on th . to the tune of a Sousa
principal giving her
snappmg her fmgers at each step.
I remember that on May Day we al
know if they still have that We d' d the Maypole dance. I don't
school like thev do no 't n t . e any dramatics or anything in
JUst the b' w rom
had lects that you talk about- ; . :roo _w_n on up. Mostly it was
muSic, and our teacher ng, wrtttng, and arithmetic W
America, the Beaut/!J . accompanied our son th , e
once had on exhibit dU:: wrth a ukulele. I still have so: fat we sang, like
wn at Orange County Fair. eo my papers that I
What WOUld
Your typical day be fiG
' e, When You were
I can remember be" about ten or twelve?
of the lng twelve very .
war. I think I was about ... _cl,stincttv. I think - ._ __
born
'
. 1905 ,....,. ve --a 1 rhe
n . I remembe he rs 0 d during World w tii'Tte
. r t world war bee ar I, as I was
Signed, all of the ladies on the i ause when the declaration of
o t brgger ladies mat were . ease were gathered outside S
bak qurte heavy hoc/ orne
ers or teachers wear and they oprona arounu thc:rn Ul\c
I can remember that distinctfy.were crying for joy that the war was over.
Before that time we had .
muac, but he d" a player Plano. My dad
of tUn -ith th! the wrong thing: he bought the I us kids to learn
G._ t-.ea the. We had a lot
un-an those war songs. A the rolls in it. We'd at our
unch of us girls WOUld stng, Johnnie,
get arcu nd the
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Was there anything etse around the school?
. TheV not onlv had the school, bUt
There was a b\9 row of peppec uees. made \itt\e fumu.ue pieces, hke
had little barn structures where the boYS
little tabare1S, and little stands.
How manv teacherS did theY haVe when ou went there?
Well one teacher usual had twO grades. with the exception of the eighth
For exampht. first and ,.;ond-first would be on one side of the .room
and second on the other; and then maybe the third would be on one s1de of
the room and the fourth on the other . remember one of my brothers was a
year ahead of me and was in the same room as he was. In music the
teachers used to draw the scale on the board and then girls and boys alike
would to stand up and sing the scales: do re, mi fa, so, Ia, ti, do. I
remember some of the bigger boys balked at that. and this teacher would
come over with a ruler. make them stick their hand out. and hit them on the
hand because thev wouldn't sing the scale.
What other memories do you have about going to s::hool in Olinda?
The bell on of the would call us to class in the morning,
at which time we all up. W1th the principal standing in command we all
marched to our respectiVe classrooms. We marched to the tune of a Sousa
march being played on the piano, with the principal giving her
command-"feft-right-left-right .. -and snapping her fingers at each step.
1 remember that on May Day we always had the Maypole dance. I don't
know if they still have that. We didn't have any dramatics or anything in
like they do now from kindergarten on up. Mostly it was
JUst the that you talk about-reading. writing, and arithmetic. We
had mus1c, and our teacher accompanied our songs that we sang, like
AmerlcG, the with a ukulele. 1 still have some of my papers that 1
once had on exhabat down at Orange Countv Fair.
What would your typical day be like, when you were about ten or twelve?
I can remember being twelve v d' .
of the war. I think I was I think. that was about the time
born in 1905 I remember the lved years old dunng World War I' as I was
. . wor war because when the decl .
peace was all of the ladies he j arat1on of
of the bigger adies that were thea ease were gathered outside. Some
bakers or nd vy had aprons around them like
R::J:a wear, a they were crying
1
.
I can remember that very distinctly. or JOY that the war was over.
Before that time we had a Ia .
music, but he did the wrong :no. My dad wanted us kids to learn
of fun with that.. All the kids "fn the the player piano. We had a lot
house, and we had that player . netghbo.-hood would gather at our
Get Your Gun-al ose ' a- th the rolls .in it. We'd sing, Johnnie
ngs. bunch of us O!rl!: Wl'll olrf no+ .. -..J
C5
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piano and we'd just sing our heads off; that's what we'd do lots of
And then if it got dark, my brother would have to take some of these g1rls
home; they were afraid to go home at night. It wasn't very far, so my other
brother would go through the barley field and hide in one of the oil rigs. As
they were going by this rig, he'd jump out. It just scared the tar out of those
girls. (laughter) So he wasn't much help. It seems so long ago.
What other kind of things did you do?
We had to always go to church on Sunday. If they had special meetings or
anything, we had to go all day.
Which church was that?
Well, the closest church to our house was the Nazarene. My mother was a
Methodist, and we went to the Methodist Church a few times when we lived
closer to it--when we lived with my uncle, before we got a place of our own.
Did you ever get to take little side trips?
The Sunday school had an annual picnic and we used to go up to Irvine Park.
The church would hire a great big Mack truck, and they would fit it up with
stakes around the side and put planks in there for us children to sit on. Of
course, we would have a mother intermingled tc see that we behaved, and
then we'd drive all the way up to Orange County, take our lunch and eat
under those big oak trees. We did that many times. Another time we went
down to Redondo Beach on a Sunday school party--in the plunge.
What did you do for supplies?
Well, they had the Stern and Goodman store out on the Santa Fe Lease.
had a deliveryman who would come out and take orders and deliver
Were there other ways of getting things?
We had no way of getting things because Dad didn't ow 'I
work. My dad and I went to th n a car untl I started
back and forth from Olinda ; er _bought a Model T Ford that I drove
of the delivery man Oh o JOb Fullerton. But we took advantage
, once tn awhile we'd t
somebody that had a car but th t ge to go to town with
' a was very seldom.
What town would you usually go to?
Always to Anaheim in those days that was the
monthly, and every month h : . town. The men were paid
hom d ' w Y. It was k1nd of lik 1
. e, an the men went to town. The w e eavl_ng the women at
wt_ves had on a list for them. The 'd b y ould buy certatn things that the
bnng us kids home a great big they_ could buy, and always
looked forward to. ard kind of candy-- which we
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Weren't there other stores there in Olinda?
There was just one store on the Santa Fe Lease, Stern and Goodman. They
had everything from yard goods and groceries to hose and underwear. And
then on the West Coast Lease was John Martin's store. He only sold food. He
had crackers in great big tins-you could buy a half pound or pound or
however many you wanted; he had cookies in those great big old-fashioned
tins; bananas hanging up-you'd tell him how many you wanted, and he'd cut
off a half dozen or a dozen. Of course, with a family like my mom's, she
always got a dozen. That was it. We didn't lack food; we had plenty to
eat-good, 5Ubstantial food.
What about your clothes, though?
My mother made all my sister's and my clothes. Later on, of course, when
we could, we bought ready-made things. Those of us who got out and made
our own money.
CS: Where would your mother get the yardage?
LS: The SOR Store in Anaheim. Schneider, Ouarton and Renner were the
founders of the SOR Store.
CS: So you'd make a big trip down there.
LS: Yes. My mother would always take us there before school, have our shoes
fitted, and get us all decked out for school. That was necessary.
CS: You mentioned earlier that you had two older brothers. Was there much
they could do in the way of getting little jobs around the lease?
LS: When they were old enough, the different oil companies would take them on
as summer help, and put them to work hoeing weeds or any little odd, easy
job that didn't take experience. I remember when my brother first started,
he would go out and clean corrals and chicken pens and things for the lady
at the boardinghouse, just tc make a quarter or two for school. That was
when he was in grade school. Later on when he was in high school, he got
some of the work from Union Oil, and ater went to work for them and
worked for them for forty-seVen years. The younger brother worked in a
Yorba Linda packinghouse as a strapper-that is, closing the lemon boxes
with metal bands. Later one, when he reached vears old. the West _
Coast boss, ''Pat'' Maley, told dad, " I got so s ck of seeing that kid on the
office steps every rooming waiting to hit me up for a job that I finally hired
him."
CS: How about the girls?
LS: About the only thing we could do-and I did it. too, and so did my
sister--was work in the over at orba Unda or Placentia. They
packed lemons in Yorba linda, mostly, and in Placentia there were oranges
and lemons. 1 remember I fibbed about my age, and told them I was sixteen,
so 1 could get a job and work there. I bought material and my dresses and
things.
CS: How did you get there?
LS:
We rode with a lady that had a car, an older woman. She would pick us
younger girls up. We were close neighbors--not next door or anything--but we
would ride back and forth with her. One summer I rode with another girl
just my age. Her folks let her have the car because she was able to get a
driver's license. I never will forget that, that was the hardest work I ever did.
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What was that like?
Standing on your feet all day, you had to wrap each orange or lemon
separately with paper. And you neatly packed them so they'd fit in together
in the packs they had, depending on size. After I'd worked there a week or
so, I was used to standing on my feet all day, and it wasn't too rough. I met
a lot of nice people there. A few of the names I remember are Paul Trook,
Delmar Woodward, a man named Kendricks, Mr. Eadington and Mr. Gilman.
What was your father's job?
When he first came out here, he worked in the storeroom. He'd had special
business education--accounting, bookkeeping and penmanship--although he
was a farmer. They had him doing inventory and things like that. Later on,
when all that was caught up, they put him out in the field, and he did
pumper work; he'd go around and check to see if the engine on the oil wells
was working and the oil was pumping okay. He would look at the different
dials and then make out a report, if anything was wrong. If a well had
stopped pumping, he'd have to call in and get the fellows to come out the
next day and clean it out and put it back on pump. It was just a general
all_- around labor work_. But he held that job from 1911 until he retired, and 1
think he was around Sixty-one or sixty-two when he retired.
Did they stay there when he retired?
Yes, a few months, then we moved into Brea, because my mother and dad
had already bought property here. We kept it rented until they needed it.
were the things that you really enjoyed when you lived there
thmgs that were fun to do? , the
I used to like to take hikes up in the hills and look at the hills, and the
Wide op_en space. The whole countryside was beautiful. 1 always loved
l1ke beautiful, gnarled old oak trees with the acorns on the
Once In awhile you'd a glimpse of a bobcat or other wildlife that wour;:;
through the brush, Jackrabbits, little squirrels and things like that. 1 also
d1d a lot of fancy work when I was just sitting around home-crocheting, and
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''hopeless" chest. When I got
embroidering, and things like that shot at tin cans lined up on a
older, my brother Jack taUght me.:,.. that was in Tonner Canyon.
rock with a .22 caliber 7-shot rew , .
_....,.ng that most o1 the d\d'?
Was that
I ess I was kind of born an old lady; I always did
No, not most of them: gu other said l was always like a grown person.
things older people did. My m ld me up to her, button her coat up and
She said that even at church I wou co .
old-JU
. st like a mother would a chtld.
teH her not to get c
abou
t the kitchen in the house on the lease; what
Can yt:AJ remember tnJch
the kitchen was "ke
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10
_.._. remember it very much; I was over at that sink
We had a mce . )
doing dishes for a family of six most of the t1me. (laughter
What kind of things were in the k"tchen?
we had aJpboards and everything bui t-in much better than I have in this
house right now. mother always had a nice, good cookstove, because she
spent plenty of time at it. remember the first washing machine she ever
bought. Boy, were we ticked, and so was she. She bought that from a man
in Fullerton. That was a big deal, 'm te ling you. We used to have to wash
the clothes in a big, galvanized tub on a washboard. My mother's clothes on
the line were just white ac she ..-nv hoW 1:0 tt..
What would yt:AJ do if somebody got serious t'lln?
Well, I'll tell YOU what 1Mv brother dfd get seriously hurt once.
That was during one summer when he was working up on the Steams Lease
owned by Union Oil Company. He 'Was wortcing up in the de"ick there for
Union Oil when they were polling one of the we Is. That was when they had
to go in and clean the hole out, pu all those sucker rods out of the hole, tie
them up on top of the de"ick, c 'ean it out and then put it back on
pump. happened. Thera's a Part of the derrick that they had in
those days called the "cat line" that would raise and lower those rods;
somehow my brother's leg got C&Jght in between thM "cat: line" and the
tubing and almost severed it. They said you could hear screams all over that
hillside. Some of the ladies up around Steams Lease-Mrs. Craig, Mrs. Powell,
and Mrs. Piatt-went down and wrapped his eg with sheets. The men took
him to the Fullerton Community Hospital. That was the only nearby
hospital in early days. He was there at east two months and we didn't know
whether they'd be able to save the leg. They did. forbAnately. It left him
with a limp. but not disabled.
What about the little day-to-day injuries?
her ld
pu
t a little dab of something on it and maybe keep it
Oh, our mot wou _ ... h inf-inn
CS: But was there a doctor around the Olinda area?
LS: There was a doctor in Brea. I remember when we first came we went to a
doctor in Anaheim. I don't know about Brea, because I was a little too
young to remember the doctor's name. I do know that one of the earliest
doctors in Brea was Dr. Parrot. Then there was a Dr. Davis, and then several
others. But most of us went down to Anaheim to Dr. Utter or Dr.
Truckshaw. There were a few people who had cars on the lease, and in an
emergency they were always glad to pick up those of us who didn't, and help
us. Oh yes, there was Dr. Clark in Fullerton, too. Dr. Clark was uncle Bill
Berry's family doctor in the early 1900s.
CS: What about the train or the Red Cars?
LS: I think the train only brought a bunch of politicians out to the Santa Fe one
time, just after the line was opened up, dressed up in their fancy suits and
everything. Other times it could have brought visitors out just as observers,
but it wasn't a passenger train for people to go anyplace. We could go uown
to the Red Car line, approximately a mile down Valencia, and go into Los
Angeles in the early days. Or we could go into Brea here. My mother and my
sister and I used to take the Red Car and come here to Brea to see my
grandmother who lived here in the early days. They tore down our station
here in Brea. It was built in 1911, but they tore it down quite awhile ago.
CS: So most of your transportation was by . . .
LS: By somebody good enough to take you. My uncle later on bought a car, so
he'd take us whenever we needed to go. As I said before, we didn't own a car
until I went to work and Dad and I bought an old Model T together. Dad
learned to drive well. He learned to drive from 01 inda to Brea. He would
come in the back way. We didn't have any traffic then, but he'd come in the
back way .anyway. He'd park by the hardware store on a side street just off
of th.e street of Brea. lt used to have posts to tie your horse to, with
the nngs Jn They my dad. They'd say, 'Where did you hitch
horse t1m:: Egg., His name was Joseph Egbert Muzzall, and the
was Egg. They d tease him about his Model T Ford when he'd
park 1t up there by the hardware store.
CS: Did you have much contact with La Vida Hot Springs?
LS: Yes, I did. My uncle was in World War I, and that's when I first used to go
out there with my aunt and another uncle. When my uncle came home, he
had some kind of rheumatic fever and he could barely walk, so we used to
take him up Carbon Canyon to La Vida Hot Springs to take the baths. You
know, in the early days, in that period, they didn't have them all fixed up
fancy and nice like they have now; they had wooden barrels sunk in holes in
the ground, and there were the steps to walk down and get into the water.
Then you'd soak in this hot mineral water. They had it in a little wooden
building to protect it, with a little lattice work when you walked into it. I
used to go up there with my aunt and uncle and play around while he was in
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- any times in my own car, just
having his bath. Later on I used to dnve up m
because 1 loved it up that way.
Did you take the waters?
No. Well, the baths 1 did for awhile because I was having arthritis a lot, but I
haven't lately.
When your uncle was going there, do you remember how much it cost?
1 don't think it cost over a dollar a bath. I know that was the first place I
ever went to a dance, up to La Vida Hot Springs. I went with this same aunt
and uncle. My mother wouldn't allow us girls to do anything like that; she
was too religious. I was nineteen years old. When my aunt and uncle asked
me to go up with them, I said, .. Momma don't want me to, but I'm going to
anyway; I'm eighteen now." I hated myself, but I went against her will, and
she cried because I went. That started me off. and I just loved to dance.
What was that first dance like?
Oh, they had about a four or five-piece band-it was really a lot of
they had a nice floor. I think they have the restaurant in a place where they
used to dance. I never will forget; when anybody ever asks me where I first
danced, I always tell them about my experiences at La Vida.
I've heard talk about a recreation hall on the Santa Fe lease; did you ever go
there?
Yes, up at the top of the h'l on the Santa Fe Lease. That's where we
graduated. We had our pictures taken in that recreation hall. They used it for
dances on Saturday nights. Most of the Santa Fe people went to that but
from other .leases d go too. The had different
there, . they had. little rec1ta s. and kids playf:d piano ana violin. The
recreatiOn hall stnct. y belonged to the Santa f=e Leae, under the supervision
of a man named Jim Flynn., one of the pioneer families there.
What did the people do for recreation on vour , __ ,.
We didn't have a recreation place there. About a vou could do was make
your own recreation-you could get out on the fietd and play baseball if you
wanted to, something like that-but had no recreation hall. We did
a for a the fel ows that ere sing,'e, but they never had
part1es '" 1t. The singe fe lo had most of the parties down in the
bunkhouses. You cou d hear them al o er the ease when they were "going
to town" on Saturday night.
Would they get some of the local girls to come up?
No, well they'd get a few drinks under their bets and whoop and holler.
(laughter
Olinda Elementary School Graduating Class of 1920. They are (top row, from left)
Rhoda Dearman, Wilhelmina Ryan, Forrest Sweet, William Travers, Margaret Elder
and Evelyn Coggeshall; (seated, middle row, from left) Louise Cullen, Lois Muzzall,
Margarette Flynn, Melva Gullock, Maude Crane (teacher) and Emma Johnson;
Everette Kent and Otho Ledbetter are seated in front.
Mareb . . ... . . . . . Olinda Orcbeatra
Tnvocatiun . . . . . . . . .. ... ... RPv.
Snag. . ... ... Gir!R' Glee Clat.
8ahttation . ... William Tra \"er5
l':aas Poem .. . . . Evelyn Cotrgeshall
Seleelion . . ... Sebool Orchestra
n ..... Po-opbee}'. F.lder
l'laas \\'ill. .. . . ... .. Emuoll ,Johnson
Piano Dnet . . Grve F.lder, Wilhelmina R.van
P ...... nratioo nf ('Ia. lfemorial
Valedietioo . /)tho Ledbetter
Addraa . Frederick EdwardM

PrHentatioa of
an ... &u
Evelyn Cogpshall Charles Keen
Louile CWlen Everett 'l{ent
Rhoda Dt'armAn Emma Joba.on
Graee Jo:Ider Otho i-e1better
llar,raret Elder lht7.utll
Paul Elder Wilhelmina Ryo<n
Flynn Thelnu 3ummers
:'\{rlva tlnll()('k Ft>rrest
William Traveno
lltl.&llll SlottD
"fb far our bc:rinniug is of the best;
lf farther, upon onrselvrs depends the J'e'lt."
Gllau QhdDl'l
Green and \Vllite
White Carnation and F .. ms

lira. Frank Cooper
llinnie Kelley )
{l(athleen Cai'I'Oll
( 'lloyal L. Hagel')
lllnmtu
I . W. TidlaDu, President D. S. Peek. Clerk
D. A. Little
The Trustees and Teachers of the Olinda Grammar School request your at
-th .. nr:adu=a1'ino Exercises of the Eiahth Grade at Olinda Hall on Friday, June 4, 1920,
Olinda Elementary School Graduating Class of 1920. They are (top row, from left)
Rhoda Dearman, Wilhelmina Ryan, Forrest Sweet, William Travers, Margaret Elder
and Evelyn Coggeshall; (seated, middle row, from left) Louise Cullen, Lois Muzzall,
Margarette Flynn, Melva Gullock, Maude Crane (teacher) and Emma Johnson;
Everette Kent and Otho Ledbetter are seated in front.
lfrugram
'Marrh ..................... Olinda Orebutra
.. ,n . . . . . .. .. ... .. .. . .. ... . ....... RP, ... Kent
So104r. ........... Girls' Ulee Clot
SaiJtatioo .. William Traven;
l.'l88ll Poem. ColflfHhall
: . Sehool Orehestra
P.Ja..,. P...,Pbet',r 'I
" " .... " UlflirN F.lder
('lUll \\'ill. .
" Emtua Johuaon
Piano Duet .... Grare Elder W'tlh I . R
e mtoa _van
of l'laa llelllurial
Valedietioa .... .... Otho Ledbetter
Addreat ................ Frederick &hvards
Flo wen
Pre.eotatioa of Diplomas
anu.Lu
Evel;rn Coggeshall ChArles Keen
Louise Cullen Everett Kent
P.hoda DearmAn Emma ,JoliOaOn
Grue Jo:Jder Otho
lfar,raret Elcler TM>iA lluziiAll
r;ul Elder Wilhelmina RyKD
:ll:f::eN;
11
FI_tnn Thelnuo 3nmmers
O< Forr<'&t !'lweet
William Travel'8
"Q f
rt: ar our b;,ginniug is of the best .
arther, upon de!'ends I'\"'t."
au... Gllilirnl
Green lind White
Gllua
White Carnation and Ferns
.. anaUg
!'rank Cooper
lltnn1e Kelley
<lf!thleen Cai'I'OII )
( oyal L. Hagel')
l!nuttrrs
J. W. Tidlan.J, P'reaidmt D. S. Peck, Clerk
D. A. Little
The Trustees and Teachers of the Olinda Grammar School request your presencP. at
.. n,n.
.
--
.
Olinda Elementary School Graduating Class of 1920. They are (top row, from left)
Rhoda Dearman, Wilhelmina Ryan, Forrest Sweet, William Travers, Margaret Elder
and Evelyn Coggeshall; (seated, middle row, from left) Louise Cullen, Lois Muzzall,
Margarette Flynn, Melva Gullock, Maude Crane (teacher) and Emma Johnson;
Everette Kent and Otho Ledbetter are seated in front.
Jmgram
.. , ............. Olinda Orllheatra
lnvocati .. n ....................... RPv. Kent
Song ....................... GiriA' Ulee Clut.
Sal11tation ......... William Travel'li
t'!aaa Poem ......... Evelyn
!'leleelion ......... lkbool Orchestra
<:lt"'l , , , , .. llarRanot t-:lller
l'llllll Will .................... Emma Johnson
Piano Duet .... Grue Elder, Wilhelmina Ryan
of ('lue llemorinl
CIPR Song
Valediction ................ Otho Ledbetter
Addreu . , .... Frederick EuwardJI
Flowers
Pre.entation of DiploiD&II
auaa aou
EvelYD CoRgeshall Charles Keen
Louise Cullen Everett Kent
Rhoda Dearman Emma Jolm.on
Graee Jo:tder Otbo 1-e-il>etter
.\lar,raret Elder L.li!l .\ln,-"1.11
Paul Elder WilhelmiJla Ryun
Ji1ynn Thelnu& 3nmmers
l(elva UniiOC'k Forrt'at
William Tra veno
"S, far our is of the best;
rf farther, upon OllrReiV('S depends the r.-.t. "
Qilus QiniJsnl
Green and White
au...
White Carnation and Fei'IUI
J:andtg
Frank Cooper
lfinnie Kelley )
/kathleen Carroll
( 'noyal L. Hagel'\
mrutt,.
J. W. Tidlanu, Preaident D. S. Peck. Clerk
D. A. Little
The Trustees and Teachers of the Olinda Grammar School request your presencP. at
the graduating Exercises of the Eighth Grade at Olinda Hall on Friday, June 4, 1920,
eight o'clock p.m.
CS:
Was baseba a big part of recreation to Olinda?
LS:
Yes. on Sunda . afternoons. They played on our lease for many years, and
they alSO p a ed down where the park is now, where the old school used to
be; the kids played in school there, too. I saw that Babe Ruth and Walter
Johnson game here in Brea. That was in 1924, the year I graduated from
high school.
CS:
Did the girls ever get to participate in athletics?
LS;
We basebal during recess or aotnething ke that, but we didn't have
any organiZed teams; a bunch of us M>U d "ust get together and play for fun.
CS:
;7;r kind of playground did thev have at the school when you were a little
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They had a baseball field, a few swings and teeter-totters.
That was it?
Yes. And we had a bunch of SDndboxa tor me linte kids. 1 don't remember
that we had any organized in go-nr o..- .of' .... - ..........
"there a baske"t::ball geme u..-rw, ,...,. ldl....-. u .. ., t. wet
into high school.
CS: What would the do. then. cluing recess?
LS: Sit and talk, walk around, and giggle. laughter
CS: Where did your bus pick you up, then, hen i/OU went into high school?
LS: It went around the different leases and p"cked the children on my lease up
right in back of the houses where we lived. There was a back road between
the Steams Lease and our ease and we wou d al meet right on that one
comer. Then we'd get on the bus and p ck the other kids up, all the way into
Fullerton.
CS: Where did the bus r;p?
LS: They had a garage down at the Olinda schoo and they kept two buses there.
The boy that drove our bus lived on the Santa Fe Lease-in fact, I was down
to their house for a party a couple of months arp visiting with the old
friends, Ed and Frances Ed drove the bus for us kids, and would
pick us all up. We lNOUid come back, after picking that group up, and go
down Valencia Avenue and pick up the Lemke kids, and Margaret
McFadden, whose father was an attorney in Anaheim, and Johanna Wichers
and her sister Gertrude; they were Placentia people. And so in the early days,
we got to know everybody, not just everybody in Olinda. We had
representation of seven differem towns to go to school, and we got to know
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people from Buena Park, Placentia, Yorba Linda, La Habra and
Yorba-Richfield. It wasn't like, "Well, I'm a Brean and I don't know
anything about that." But we knew everybody in those days. Of course, you
can't do that now with the large number of people.
How were the classes arranged when you were in high school?
They would set up a schedule from the time we got there-1 c a ~ ' t rem:mber I
think it was eight o'clock--and we'd have certain things for frrst penod and
second period and so on, a schedule probably just like you would have
today.
Once you went to high school, was that the center of your social activities?
1 didn't fit the social butterfly type in high school at all, being bashful and
timid; introverted, 1 guess. This I overcame in later years through my work
and being in contact with the public.
Did you go to football games and things?
Oh yes, I did. I loved football in high school.
Were the games right after sc hoof?
I never could go to any games that were away from Fullerton, but we were
very loyal to our team, all of us. We'd go to every game that they had there
and just hoot and holler our heads off, and come home hoarse--my sister
would, she'd scream so loud. (laugther)
Did they have dances at school?
No, dances were not allowed. Fraternities and soront1es were against the
rules, too. Private parties were given sometimes by members of the Big F
Society at which there was dancing.
Some people have mentioned the delivery trucks that would come onto the
leases; do you recall any of those trucks or wagons?
Oh yes. The father of one of the boys in my class, a Reyes boy, had
watermelons everytime it was watermelon season, and he had a big team and
he would come along with the big bed of that thing just covered with those
gorgeous, great big, green-looking watermelons. There was also old man
Gamble, as mother used to call him, and he'd come with the vegetable
trucks. He'd have lug boxes on a special built body of the truck where they'd
fit right in and ride without sliding off. The ladies would go out when he'd
ring a little bell and they'd pick out what they wanted off the truck. There
was a fish truck; fish men would come and you could buy fish. I'd
completely forgotten that. I remember that he always had a fish horn. And
the vegetable man had a little ding-a-ling kind of thing like these ice cream
trucks nowadays.
-
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LOS
1778
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What about milk products?
Yes, we had people who delivered milk. In fact, my mother did when we
were younger kids. My mother had tiNO cows, and she would milk those
cows, and bottle and sterilize them. She had several customers that would
take over what the family couldn't use; it wasn't a big deal, it was just a little
family extra pin money, you see. Us girls would go and deliver. We always
had to get them on the porch in a certain place where the ladies wanted
them. We delivered not very far from home, though, because my mother
wouldn't let us do it after dark. Yes, we had a lot of peddlers out there;
that's what we called them, peddlers. The Watkins man always came and sold
vanilla and brushes. We didn't have too many Fuller Brush men, but we
always got vanilla for cookies and cakes and things from the Watkins man.
Were you warned about playing in the oil fields?
Well, I'll tell you. There was what they call sump. That's where they drained
a lot of stuff off from the oil wells. Well, I think any intelligent kid would
know better than to get close to that stuff. I know my mother used to tell us
not to get around the sump ditches because you'd sink in. One of our calves
got out and dad found it up to its head in the sumphole. It had to be shot.
So the kids pretty much stayed away from the oil fields?
Yes.
Did most of the boys in the lease end up going into the oil business?
Quite a few of them did, yes. 1 n fact, one boy, Cecil Sweet, who was a
hugging buddy of my oldest brother, went into it, and was very
And so did another young man named Hart Erwin. He had patents on certatn
oil equipment and tools and things like that. Cecil Sweet had a big business
in Hobbs, New Mexico. He left Brea and went there. He died last year. Quite
a few of the men became involved in higher things than just drilling.
So there weren't any refineries around here at that time?
We've had one up on the hill here for many, many years. Union Oil
Company has had a refinery up in back of Tonner Canyon there. My brother
worked for Union Oil for forty-seven years and 1 am acquainted with some
of the old-ttmers. The children's museum in La Hab d
brea th t' h h ra wante some
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-- a s t e pttc. , the tar-to put over there for the children to see and
I knew nght away where I could get it. I called the La Habra
Cramer and told her 1 could get some for her if she'd like it.
Has the Union Oil plant been up there for a long while?
It's been up there for years and years; it's a refinery. It's way back on the hill
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What about milk products?
. ' lk In fact my mother did when we
Yes, we had cows, she would milk those
were younger ktds. My .,. them She had several customers that would
and bottle and sten tze . .
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what the family couldn't use; it wasn't a big deal, tt.was JUSt a Itt e
family extra pin money, you see. us girls would go and deltver. _we always
had to get them on the porch in a certain place where the ladtes wanted
them. We delivered not very far from home, though, because my mother
wouldn't let us do it after dark. Yes, we had a lot of peddlers out there;
that's what we called them, peddlers. The Watkins man always came and sold
vanilla and brushes. We didn't have too many Fuller Brush men, but we
always got vanilla for cookies and cakes and things from the Watkins man.
Were you warned about playing in the oil fields?
Well, I'll tell you. There was what they call sump. That's where they drained
a lot of stuff off from the oil wells. Well, I think any intelligent kid would
know better than to get close to that stuff. I know my mother used to tell us
not to get around the sump ditches because you'd sink in. One of our calves
got out and dad found it up to its head in the sumphole. It had to be shot.
So the kids pretty much stayed away from the oil fields?
Yes.
Did most of the boys in the lease end up going into the oil business?
Quite a few of them did, yes. In fact, one boy, Cecil Sweet, who was a
hugging buddy of my oldest brother. went into it, and was very successful.
And so did another young man named Hart Erwin. He had patents on certain
oil equipment and tools and things like that. Cecil Sweet had a big business
in Hobbs, New Mexico. He left Brea and went there. He died last year. Quite
a few of the men became involved in higher things than just drilling.
CS: So there weren't any refineries around here at that time?
LS: We've had one up on the hill here for many, many years. Union Oil
Company has had a refinery up in back of Tonner Canyon there. My brother
worked for Union Oil for forty-seven years and I am acquainted with some
of the old-ti mers. The children's museum in La Habra wanted some
brea--that's the pitch, the tar-to put over there for the children to see and
feel, and I knew right away where I could get it. I called the La Habra
historian Esther Cramer and told her I could get some for her if she'd l ike it.
And I did.
:s: Has the Union Oil plant been up there for a long while?
_s :
It's been up there for years and ears it's a refi
nn +h""" L... : II
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there. They used to have a big Union Oil tank back there. I still think they
have it, way back in the hills.
When you say years and years, can you remember when they put it in?
They built the refinery in 1926.
Did most of your family, then, stay in this general area?
My immediate family, yes, except my younger brother who went up into
Martinez after World War II. He was transferred up there by Tidewater
Associated.
You mentioned your memories of the end of World War I; do you remember
if the war affected your life on the ease?
Well, we heard it a the t me becalse my dad's baby brother was in it, and
he wrote back and told us hat he cou d. Of course, it was a thing on
ewrybody's ips. It affected the ch dren those of us that were old enough
to remember. It's something that when . ou ook back on it when you're my
age sewnty-four next month- ou lle\ er forget.
Did they have any special war efforts on . our ease?
Oh, libeny bonds. and things ke that. And ,_,.iotism, which you never see
now. We have no more patriot sm
Was there anyone from your area beS des our uncle in the rvice du rl ng
World War I?
There was severa men that were ... t.r.e sen ce. 8oth of my brothers are gone
now, but mv sister-ifl. aw has letters that m. brother received from the boys
over there. There were many oung en 0 nda that went to war and a
lot of them dictl't come back. '
Were there ever any rea big events that ._.,.....,. .
remember -.rubody ,....... '" town that you can
--., P ..... ng a exc ted o.er?
Well they had
' a stnke out on the tease one time. They had d
ewrvthing all over-but tha guar s and
was all about I k was years ago and don't even know what that
. now us kids were stopped b one f the
when we were taking the milk. and it made
0
guards one time
onto those guys-he didn't want them so_ mad. He really got
........ ng s tt e gtrls.
Was your dad inYOived in the strike?
No. It was just some guards out there watch"ng that the wells were not
sabotaged.
CS: You said that yoo were involved n start the old-timers' picnic? How did
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that come about?
1 wasn't originally involved. It was older girls, about seven to ten older
than me. They just happened to be together one day, got to talkmg, and
d 'Well why don't we start having a picnic and just have the people that
sal ' ' h ol In Olinda'" It Just grew and grew. When they got to the
used to go to sc o ' b'l' f
h no longer felt they wanted to have the responsl I lty o
stage where t . . m a e bracket took over. Three years
getting out, the younger girls that wanted to
later, a diSCUSSIOn came up that ft II I thought "The younger the
. d'd 't re because a er a , ,
get in on 1t. I I n ca ' . . , But it seems like there has been a
better-this would keep the thing gomg. h feel the younger ones haven't
. . some because t ey
lot of dissension between Th , th sad part about it. I was wrong,
made our age seem welc.ome. at s I was with; I said, "I don't see
because 1 got in Dutch wtth the group d ke it over that
>Nhy you should r., e l hadly tha1: somebodv should come an ta ,
means it will go on that much longer." But it hasn't worl<ed out that way. I
guess they had a pretty good crowd last year up in Carbon Canyon, though.
The trouble was a lot of the old-timers didn't want to give up the original
Anaheim picnic site in Pearson Park. I felt that as long as it was an Olinda
School celebration, why not celebrate it in the original site that we were
celebrating and loved so well. But you know, it's a hard thing to make
everybody happy--you can't do it!
What year did they start having the picnic?
I 'II guess it was at least twenty-five or thirty years ago.
Well, I think we've about covered all my questions, Mrs. Smith. This
certainly has been a delightfu ll y informative interview. So on behalf of the
California State University, Fullerton, Oral History Program's Olinda
Community History Project, let me say how much I appreciate sharing your
memories of 01 inda.
END OF INTERVIEW
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that come about?
I wasn't originally involved. It was older girls, about seven to ten years older
than me. They just happened to be together one day, got to talking, and
said, 'Well, why don't we start having a picnic and just have the people that
used to go to school in Olinda?" It just grew and grew. When they got to the
stage where they no longer felt they wanted to have the responsibility of
getting the notices out, the girls in my age bracket took over. Three years
later, a discussion came up that there were some younger girls that wanted to
get in on it. I didn't care, because after all, I thought, "The younger the
better-this would keep the thing going." But it seems like there has been a
lot of dissension between some because they feel the younger ones haven't
made our age seem welcome. That's the sad part about it . I was wrong,
because I got in Dutch with the group that I was with; I said, "I don't see
why you should feel badly that somebody should come and take it over; that
means it will go on that much longer." But it hasn't worked out that way. I
guess they had a pretty good crowd last year up in Carbon Canyon, though.
The trouble was a lot of the old-timers didn't want to give up the original
Anaheim picnic site in Pearson Park. I felt that as long as it was an Olinda
School celebration, why not celebrate it in the original site that we were
celebrating and loved so well. But you know, it's a hard thing to make
everybody happy--you can't do it!
What year did they start having the picnic?
I'll guess it was at least twenty-five or thirty years ago.
Well, 1 think we've about covered all my questions, Mrs. Smith. This
certainly has been a delightfully informative interv:iew. So on beh,alf of_ the
California State University, Fullerton, Oral H1story P ~ o g r a m s_ Ol1nda
Community History Project, let me say how much I apprec1ate shanng your
memories of 01 inda.
END OF INTERVIEW
Emma Johnson Benn 1e
3
Arriving in Olinda during the same year as Lois Muzzall Smith, 1911, was
another young girl by the name of Emma Johnson. Her family hailed originally from
Hampton, Iowa, but lived in Sherman, California prior to her father securing a job as
a pipe fitter on the Steams Lease for the Union Oil Company. Once in Olinda,
Emma moved into a large six-room house that had an additional building outside,
built by her father, which accommodated four people. Remembers Mrs. Bennie:
"My father bought the nicest place; it was on top of a hill with a lot of ground." She
also attended Olinda School, which was two miles from the Johnson home. In 1924
she married her first husband, Eddie Crawford, and together they purchased the
home that had belonged to her parents and remained living there until 1932.
Noteworthy about Mrs. Bennie's memoir is its depiction of
management-employee relations in the Union Oil Company and how a suggestion of
her husband during the depth of the Depression "not to lay off anyone but to let
everyone work three and a half days a week" averted the alternative widespread
unemployment in Olinda. She also relates in graphic detail the effects of a 1931
windstorm, which "blew derricks down and roofs off of houses" and precipitated
the decision for her family to move to Fullerton. Her interview also brings alive the
festive way in which holidays were celebrated in Olinda and where oil field families
went when in search of recreation and amusement. Finally, Bennie sketches a profile
of some prominent Olinda personalities.
Emma Johnson Bennie
3
Arriving in Olinda during the same year as Lois Muzzall Smith, 1911, was
another young girl by the name of Emma Johnson. Her family hailed originally from
Hampton, Iowa, but lived in Sherman, California prior to her father a as
a pipe fitter on the Steams Lease for the Union Oil Company. Once m Olmda,
Emma moved into a large six-room house that had an additional building outside,
built by her father, which accommodated four people. Remembers Mrs. Bennie:
"My father bought the nicest place; it was on top of a hill with a lot of ground." She
also attended Olinda School, which was two miles from the Johnson home. In 1924
she married her first husband, Eddie Crawford, and together they purchased the
home that had belonged to her parents and remained living there until 1932.
Noteworthy about Mrs. Bennie's memoir is its depiction of
management-employee relations in the Union Oil Company and how a suggestion of
her husband during the depth of the Depression "not to lay off anyone but to let
everyone work three and a half days a week" averted the alternative widespread
unemployment in Olinda. She also relates in graphic detail the effects of a 1931
windstorm, which ''blew derricks down and roofs off of houses" and precipitated
the decision for her family to move to Fullerton. Her interview also brings alive the
festive way in which holidays were celebrated in Olinda and where oil field families
went when in search of recreation and amusement. Finally, Bennie sketches a profile
of some prominent Olinda personalities.
W: This is an irtterre
University, Fu erto
Project at Mrs. Ben
by Ken Weed on
First of a
Bennie for the California State
Olinda Communm H story
East North Street. Anaheim, Ca ifomia.
""' - the cin::umstances
sas ke at that time
B: Ves. T1wre ...-
lived in s- -
_ an 0 - da and m fatt. and family
-e Nent to C inda s mouths prior to our
.. Nas ,. o to get .-.ork and a home for
':! After gen em- ent and a house for us
tam
s-
He
he Stea"'"s Lease one of the Oil Company
":" -ws a ease ... . "'f''ed b the Union Oi I
_ _ e cest p ace was on top of a hill with a
- schOO that ... .e Nent to was wo m e5 from where
c:e cour-T we had to "Nalk to school.
- .... e fathers .-Alo workeo the afternoon shift would
s ca Othen se we wa k.ed and diOn't seem to
- ltke and where dd ou eome from)
- .- pton, owa. father was a farmer. The winters
- - wanted his fam- , to have a better fe, so my folks
--. es severa bocks from Sunset Bou evard in
Ne ed there. t was a orange trees. e lived
.. er heard abOut the o boom gong n 0 'nda.
s to e.
W: What were so e ..:. _- er s du es?
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was a p7pe finer. He .ws headman of a pipe fitting. The fitting had to be
JUst so. When there were spec a jobs to be done, the big bosses would come
up to our place many times on a Sundav and then m father wou d cut the
pipes himself as to their liking. . father worked for the n
1
on o1
until he was fifty-nine years o d and he then moved to Anahe' \
marned mv husband Eddie Crawford :..a... 6
924
and m.
home from my folks. We lived there until1932. purchased the
The town was just about all oil people, right?
Yes.
How did the men feel about the oil .
they were treated fairly by them? compames back then? '0 o tne think
I believe so. They didn't have a uni .
umon amongst themselves. Then the
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things over with them, and usually they came to an agreement. Between
1929 and 1932, the Depression years, it was quite bad. The Union Oil
Company was going to have to lay some employees off. At that time there
was a meeting of the employees to see what could be worked out. The
Company was thinking of laying off men with seniority of five and ten years,
and letting the men with the higher seniority keep on working. I was told
later by two men, John Steele and Frank Stroscheim, that my husband made
a motion to the effect not to lay off anyone but to let everyone work three
and one-half days a week. He said these men had families just as did those
with the higher seniority, and they liked to eat as well as :hey di.d. There was
a second to the motion, and it carried. They worked 11 ke thiS several
years before things straightened out and the men went back to full-t1me.
Did other families move to different towns like your father and mother did?
Yes, by the time that my folks moved, other families had moved also to
nearby towns such as Brea, Fullerton, Anaheim, and La Habra. It was these
tow:1s principally, 1 believe. Eddie, Delbert and I lived on the lease until
1931, and I guess we wouldn't have moved then, but for a windstorm in
1931 that blew derricks down and roofs off of houses. It was quite bad so
we moved to Fullerton. We had a home painted inside and out, and it cost
one hun.dred When the painter finished, he asked if he could have the
money 1n cash, 1nstead of by check. He was afraid of the banks if he took his
money by check.
So you left Olinda primarily because of the windstorm?
Yes, however, when a family moved from Ol inda to another town
always another family that moved into their home. , , there was
I was wondering how old , were you when you got married?
I was nineteen. I got married on my birthday, and my
twenty-two. husband was
What kind of aspirations did girls at that time have after they f i nished school?
Some of the girls wanted to have a career
There were many girls that went . , others wanted to get married.
same in Olinda as in other to n on to high school and college. It was the
w s.
Was then, kind of a roble .
stay '" Olinda the bulk of the t' t 0 m and did most people therefore
of the country? Jme. r could they get around to other parts
It was the same out on the leases as it wa . .
automobile, it was the horse and b d s In town. At first, before the
approximately three-fourths of u.glgyf ays, However, we had the streetcar,
f
a ml e rom our place It .
rom Los Angeles to Yorba L. d M was a lme that ran
Lutheran church on this a. y and father wou ld go to the
car on a unday. They left their horse and
W:
B:
Where did you girls and boys go to Sunday School?
We went to the Nazarene Church that 'Ms approximately three-fourths of a
mile from our place. This church wou d have picnics for us, and they
supplied big trucks for all that 'Mnted to go, and usually the trucks would be
filled. They took us to various places; one of the places was Carbon Canyon,
which was three miles from 0 inda. For the peop e iving on the Santa Fe,
Olinda and other leases close-bv, there was a Methodist church, wttich was a
nice church, too, and close to them.
w: sounds like people were really satisfied with the kind of housing the oil
companies provided?
B: I'm sure they were. I know that my husband Eddie just loved it on the hill,
and why shouldn't he have? There was everything there that a person would
want. Sometimes, before he went to work, I would ask him to shoot a
couple of cottontail rabbits. There was a big cactus patch back of our house.
He gladly shot and cleaned a couple in just a few minutes. I would ask him
to do this, especially if I was low on my grocery money.
W:
B:
W:
B:
W:
Did you have a good life at home in the years 1913 to 1916?
Yes. On holidays such as Fourth of July, Thanksgiving, and my
folks would go all out celebrating. My father raised hogs, chickens, geese,
and turkeys. From the hogs, my folks VYOuld make headcheese in big crocks.
They had large gardens and raised all vegetables, such as potatoes, lettuce,
and tomatoes. And my mother would can several hundred jars of vegetables,
and also fruit that they raised. On Christmas, the folks would make their
own Christmas tree and would store it away for the next year. They would
work for several weeks preparing food for the special day. No VYOnder we
have such \NOnderful memories.
.
Was working on d-.e leases for the oil companies a very dangerous job? Did
the women worry very much about occupational hazards?
we. never worr ed about our husbands or our fathers, because the
ompan1es seemed to take f!Nery precaution for their men.
I was wondering about the picnics that you still have with the Olinda people.
v
8
8
B
B:
w
B: At first, there were picnics held at Pearson Park in Anaheim, for many years,
but now that a park is built out where our Olinda school was located, the
picnics are held out there. People from all parts of the country attend every
year. It is held on the last Saturday in August with everyone bringing
potluck. A good time is had by all. The third and fourth generation is
attending now, and some of the people are working on Saturday, so they
come when they get off from work. The last two years the younger ones
stayed until 8 o'clock.
W:
8:
W:
B:
W:
B:
W:
8:
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W:
Did you know the Armstrong family?
1 knew only Ella Armstrong. She was a younger person. However, I knew
very ~ ~ J e l l the Robert Isbell family, Robert Jr. and Patricia, and also Betty
Courtney, who later married one of the Lusk boys. Their father was a
builder. The boys are now builders with the father. Very good people. Of the
younger generation I too have a nephew by the name off Donald Quinn. He
was the son of my sister Alma. When Donald finished high school, he went
to work for the Shell Oil Company. He soon advanced to a derrick man, then
tool pusher, and at a very young age. He married a girl by the name of Melba
Neal, who also was an oil worker's daughter and whose folks lived on the
Santa Fe lease. Donald and Melba's home is in Yorba Linda. There is another
nephew named Homer Farren, son of my sister Alice, and he works for the
Chanslor Western Oil and Development Company, and he married an oil
worker's daugther, Betty Weicke. Her family lived on the Santa Fe Lease.
Betty and Homer are now living in a company house directly above the
Olinda Park. My son Del, who was the same age as his cousins, and Betty
Courtney, Robert Isbell and Ella Armstrong, went into law enforcement
work. He married a Whittier girl and lives in Los Angeles.
Did you know Nora Brown?
Just by name , and that she lived on the Santa Fe Lease.
Was Olinda growing when you first got there or was it pretty well-established?
It was well-established.
What were the reasons tor going into Anaheim? W . .
as 1t to get suppl
1
es?
Mainly to go to the department stores d .
was more of a selection. , an grocenes were cheaper, and there
How often did you manage to get into Anaheim?
After the horse and buggy days, we went to Anaheim several times a week.
Were a lot of the families large like yours?
B:
W:
B:
W:
B:
W:
Of course my sister Mabel was the eldest. and worked in Los
t:

a foreladv for a big concern, the Chancelor and Lyon, that
ge . for cars. My sister Helen was a telephone operator and
My sisters lived together. My brother lived
at home for .ww e working in the daytime and going to school .n Lo.s
Angeles at night. :-te then moved to Bakersfield to drill for the Umon 011
Company. A rt time later he became a toolpusher. He worked there
several years. and then enlisted in World War I. He was killed just twO weeks
before the armistice was signed. Therefore, there were only five of us left at
home.
When yoo moved from Sherman to Olinda. how did you find a house big
enough to accommodate all of you?
Our house was a six-room home. then our father built a building outside,
that accommodated four: therefore. we got along fine.
How man , oi compan es and eases ..ere there whose families sent their
childr-en to the 0 nda SchooP
There Vt.ere six eases: the Steams Lease he Co .. mba. Olinda. the G. P . the
West Coast. and the Santa Fe or as : .ws ater ca ed the CCMO Lease.
Where did the maj
of he fam es come = hat states?
8: Iowa, flfinois, West rginia 0 o o,_. Ca .... na and South Carolina. In
later yeaB. when so man peop e - - . ed to other towns, people from
Arkansas and Ok ahOma came .vas 929 and during 1930.
W: What wou d you do on our sc oo .acations?
B: Up on the hil where ed Steams Lease, there lived the Paschall, and
Anderson. and Co e fam' es. :he chtldren of tl'\ese families and ours would
all go up the h, J abou .. . a - e to where there vwre oak trees and a creek.
where we could swim. 0\:;r ..-.n:hers would pack chicken, potato salad, and
other things for a p'cnc 'lC Ve all had such fun. Then when my sisters
married and moved to he ...os Angeles area, we got to visit them, so our
vacation from schooiiM>u d ':IV "edl by.
W: You mentioned that yours stef's ed n Los Angeles and their friends liked
to visit you on the hi 1
8: Yes. they did. We had a arge cro -et _ nd and a barbeque. My brother
Fred made a large swing for U$. e a teeter-totter for the smaller
children. Some played horseshoes. ... ws a good game both for the
young and old. After I married there .w a a Sunday that went by that we
didn't have friends and relatives com "9 o to our place to spend the whole
day.
The above photo shows the Oli!"da oil men's baseball team in 1908 or 1909. In the
back row are John O"aig, Graham and Loftus; Art Cripps, Olinda Land Company;
Bob Isbell, CCMO Company; John Martin, captain, local druggist; Charles Lloyd,
Olinda Land Company; Dutch Brown, CCMO Company, (First name unknown)
Powell, Union Oil Company. In the front row are Earl Brown, brother of Dutch;
Ray Perry, CCMO; Billy McLean, Graham and Loftus; and Claude Buzzard, CCMO.
The above photo shows the Olinda oil men's baseball team in 1908 or 1909. In the
back row are John Craig, Graham and Loftus; Art Cripps, Olinda Land Company;
Bob Isbell, CCMO Company; John Martin, captain, local druggist; Charles Lloyd,
Olinda Land Company; Dutch Brown, CCMO Company, (First name unknown)
Powell, Union Oil Company. In the front row are Earl Brown, brother of Dutch;
Ray Perry, CCMO; Billy McLean, Graham and Loftus; and Claude Buzzard, CCMO.
brothers had gone to school with the Peralta boy, and you also mentioned
the famous major league baseball pitcher, Walter Johnson?
B: Yes, Milo and Carl were good friends to Charles Peralta. His father worked in
Olinda, and Charles went to school there. The father acquired a lot of land
later in Placentia and extending across the Santa Ana River. The land south
of the Santa Ana River and on the hill is named the Peralta Hills. As to
Walter Johnson, his father was an employee of the CCMO Oil Company, and
Walter went to the Olinda School. It was a thrill to watch him play baseball,
and we all thought that one day he would become famous. There was
another boy that lived in Olinda by the name of Frank Martin. His father
worked for the Union Oil Company and he lived on the Steams Lease. There
was only one high school for everyone to go to, and that was Fullerton High
School. When Frank and his folks moved to the Steams Lease, Frank was
ready to enter high school, and that was when we first knew him. He loved
living where he did, and remembers those years as so very enjoyable. One
day I received a telephone call from him; he had seen an announcement
about our Olinda picnic and said he would like to go. At the picnic we were
reminiscing about when he lived there. He mentioned about his training
horses, and had a ranch in Redlands. I discovered in the Guiness Book of
Worlworld records that he holds the World Record for training and saddling
the most winners in one year. He sadd ed and trained one hundred and
thirty-three horses in 1974. These two men we are so proud of.
W: Mrs. Bennie, I think we'll no cone the ~ f!IW. And let me thank you
on behalf of the Ca tom a Slate ... ersitv, Fullerton Oral History
Progran's 0 inda Cor- - Pro;ec:t providing us with such an
urn Rating 'C'tUre
Jack Gauldin
4
Unlike the first three interviewees in this book, Jack Gauldin did not come to
Olinda as a schoolchild. Born in Missouri in 1897, he moved with his family in 1010
to Southern California, first settling in Whittier and then, a few years later, in Yorba
Linda. After quitting his studies at Fullerton High School, he worked in the Stern
and Goodman Store in Yorba Linda, and became acquainted with their branch store
in Olinda. He later found employment with the West Coast Oil Company and lived
on that company's lease in a bunkhouse for bachelors, before his marriage to Gladys
Ryan. Thereupon the young couple moved into a lease-built home, where they
remained for the next four years.
Mr. Gauldin's interview represents the recollections of a man who has spent
virtually his entire adult life employed in the oil industry. Accordingly, it gives an
informed personal perspective on such technological aspects of the Olinda oilfields
as derrick construction, well drilling, and oil production. In addition, Mr. Gauldin
provides readers with a verbal snapshot of everyday life in 01 inda during the early
twenties, including insights into domestic tasks like washing clothes. He recounts
how the oilmen would get their clothes real dirty and then take them to the
company's steam washers. "It wasn't the easiest thing on your clothes," chortles
Gauldin, "but it was easy on your wife." He also tells about his role in building a
new road through Carbon Canyon and the many pranks which were pulled off by
the oilfield workers when one of them got married. In those days, Gauldin recalls,
getting married "was kind of a scary proposition because you didn't know what was
going to happen when everything started."
M:
G:
. . rd R (Jack) Gauldin for the California
This is With Mr. Program's Olinda CommunitY
State UmversftY, Fuller:ton, 0 1370 North Citrus Drive, La Habra,
History Project by Jacke Malone, at
CBiifomia, on July 6, 1979 at 9:30a.m.
Now. Mr. Gauldin, would yoo please tell life: your
early years, your background, where you were
M" My father
Well it's kind of off the top of my head. I was born '" ISSOUrl.
and 'mother came to Missouri in the early years from Indiana, and
down in Tennessee. They farmed in a little town they called Slater, M1ssoun,
about ninety miles east of Kansas City. My father's name was Richard Selden
Gauldin, my mother was named Volumna Hummell Gauldin. Her maiden
name was Hummell. She had nine children. They were all born healthy but
only four survived over the years. I had a sister, a brother that died at
twenty-two, a sister that died at twenty-one, and some others younger. The
youngest one died at nine months. I happen to be the next to the youngest
child. I was born in 1897, and I'm now eighty-one and one-half years old. We
left Missouri in about 1910 and came to Whittier, California. I went to
school in Whittier.
Yorba Linda, a little to\M'l east and south of Olinda, was starting orange and
lemon ranches, so we bought six acres on the corner of Rose Drive Avenue
and the P.E. (Pacific Electric] car line at that time. We lived there in Yorba
Linda for ... well, I got married in 1920. We were fortunate on this little
ranch that we got back in 1914. They dri ed an oi well on our place. It was
the first oil well in Yorba Linda valley. There was other oil fields north and
west and south of us, but this was a kind of a wildcat well, and it thrilled all
of us. It came in very nice.
I went to Fullerton High School for awhi e and then quit and went to work
in the store in Yorba Unda cal ed Stein and Fassett's. I first went to work for
Stern and Goodman. and then Stein and Fassel bought the store out. Stern
and Goodman owned about six stores: owned one in Placentia, in Brea,
Olinda, and Yorba Linda, and another country store. They owned a big
mercantile company in Fu lerton. I worked for the grocery store, and off
and on I would quit and get other obs. I worked fOI' a man by the name of
Jim Connally; he was superviSOr of North Orange County. Later on, after he
served his supervisorship, he was dr farming and did lots of grading. We
grad3d for the Yorba linda depot and man other buildings in Yorba Linda.
Then he got a contract to put the road through Carbon Canyon. So I went
into los Angetes right where the Un on Depot stands now, and we rented
twenty-foor mules with the harness and everythng on them. They took me
into los Angeles and I rode a mu e and came out Stephenson Avenue
Whittier Boulevard, and on through hittier and La Habra, and on
Carbon Canyon where our headquarters was. t took me sixteen hours to
make the trip. And that was quite a itt e job for a seventeen-year-old boy; 1
was seventeen years old at the time. And we put the through Carbon
Canyon. Some of the times the cooks wouldn't show uphad a little bit too
much cheer on Saturday nights--and I would have to go in and do the
cooking. So I was pretty much the main operator of the camp. Later on, I
went to work for the West Coast Oil Company in Olinda. In 1920, I married
a girl from Yorba Linda, Gladys Ryan, and 11t1e settled in Olinda and had our
first two children in there. Then later on we moved to Fullerton.
I don't know too much about the history of Olinda, only at the time
worked in it. Olinda was one of the first oil fields in Southern California, 1
guess, according to the books. A man by the name of C. V. Hall drilled a well
right near Valencia Avenue, about a quarter of a mile north of Birch
Avenue--! think it was Well 15--and it come in about fifteen thousand barrels
a day. In those days vve called them gushers. They hired every man and horse
and team to build what we called sumpholes, or catch basins, for the oil that
flowed out of this -.veil on down to where Imperial Highway is at the present.
A lot of the old basins are still there, with the old dried up oil and everything
in them, but some of them have been abandoned. There was quite a few
different oil companies.
Along around 1900 there wasn't any other transportation, only the horse
and buggy, and most people lived right on the oil field leases. They had
boardinghouses and they had a roominghouse for the single men. They built
houses for the employees. At one time I understood that there was 3700
people who lived in and out of the canyons there. I think in 1900 they built
a large school. They used to have a little red schoolhouse up on the hill
where the General Petroleum Oil Company . . . and that was the first
schoolhouse where, J think, all grades went into the one room. I knew lots of
the kids that attended that school. Later on, they built the other large school
down where at the present time it is a park. So, I don't know much more
about the history, only that the names of the oil companies was
Fullerton-Puente, CCMO [Chanslor-Canfield Midway Oil Company], Olinda
Land Company, C. V. Hall, West Coast Oil Company, Columbia Oil
Company, General Petroleum. and Union Oil was a large company a little bit
farther to the west.
J got married and moved into Olinda in 1920 and raised my family there
and in 1924 I moved to Fullerton. So after that I was transferred to Santa F ~
Springs, and don't know too much more about the history. 1 was foreman
and took care of the wells in Olinda. But along in the 1 900s the Santa Fe
Railroad put a spur up in there. The oil fields got to producing lots of oil,
and the Santa Fe Railway wanted to change their locomotives from coal to
oil burning. They put in this spur and had what we called loading racks. All
the companies piped their oil to these loading racks and shipped it out by
train. The CCMO company had a water company alongside of the railroad,
about three miles south of 01 inda, and they pumped fresh water from the
pumping plant to Olinda. That's the way they got their water supply.
1 started drilling in 1919. I was very fortunate; I was very young, but I got a
drilling job, and stayed with the oil business for forty-five years, and retired
in 1960 from the Getty Oil Company in Santa Fe Springs. At the present
time I'm enjoying life at 1370 llorth Citrus Avenue; I'm sure there are lots
of who know more about the history of the oil fields, because I was
young at that time and dancing. and a little bit of the high life was what I
was interested in. (laughter) We all had horses and buggies. A fellow by the
name of Marcus Andoretta lived over on the CCMO 'lease and ran a livery
stable. He had lots of beau .. buggies and horses. When we had a chance
and a little extra mont!\ we d go down and hire the best ones because
for a ride and show that we were living it up.
(laughter Then ate - _ . a n ce horse from Mr. Gaines who lived
up in Carbon Canyon. e's one of the od-time settlers. I think the new town
of Olinda is probab bu t on pan of his property up in Carbon Canyon.
They broke this horse both to de and to drive to a buggy. Then I bought
me a Cadillac buggy and thought was the top man in that area. (laughter)
In the early days one of our sports was that some of the ranchers that had
riding horses would take hounds and chase coyotoes on top of the hills
around Olinda and Carbon Canyon up near La Vida Hot Springs. It was quite
a sport in those days. The Carbon Canyon, or ravine as we call it, in the wet
seasons was like a flowing river. t caused ots of washouts and everything.
Later on they had to build the dam n order to protect all the citrus groves
down in the Placentia area. We ived at 0 mda, and my wife and 1 rode the
That was our first gas-operated machine, and that was our first
transportation. Her mother lived n orba Linda, and it was quite a thrill,
she thought, to get on the tack of that motor and start out visiting.
M: You talked about the road you bu. tout in Carbon Canyon. Could you go
into detail as to how the road 'Was bu tJ
G: Well, the early days had a road through Carbon Canyon to Chino. They
really followed the stream of water, nand out. Whenever the ground wasn't
too deep they 'WOu d come out of the stream and make a little dirt road and
then back n the stream and then back in the water. At the time 1 spoke of
earlier, they 'Aianted a wider road So we went in there with teams of horses
and mules. " th"nk n the camp one time had about twenty-seven men
working. We 'WOu d take some of the Mexican boys, or whoever was working
for us, and we d shovel out a path up on a steep hill and work the picks
and axes and cut a furrow. Then we 'WOuld take one horse with a plow and
plow it. We wou d dr ve the horse on this same furrow that was dug by pick
and shovel. Then we wou d plow this, and we used what they call a "V."
That's a board about ten feet long and one about three feet wide, or
whatever width . ou v.em it. The first one was very narrow. You would take
that "V" and k"ck the dirt out and eventually you'd get it wide enough to
where you cou d take t'WO horses up and heavier equipment. Later you could
take four horses up and use what you call a California Fresno. That's the
way you haul your dirt and dump it into the other areas. I forget how long it
took us to put those few miles-1 think six miles or something like that
through there. Then we had to oil it heavily and put culverts in the streams
and build bridges over the streams. In the real rainy weather we'd lose a
bridge now or then. Somewhere in the 1930s or along in there, they moved
the road up to its present location and put it into a macadamized road. But
the first road 'NBs oil react and about a two-lane road. There was an old gent
by the name of Jim Williams who lived in there. He's an old bachelor, and
owned part of the property. At first he wasn't going to let us work on h1s
property. He says, "It's all right to stay down in the can.yon." He
going to let us disturb any of the other brushes and everything. He wanted 1t
just as it was. Someway or another they got the easement through the
property and we started the road.
Th L
vda Hot Springs was originated from a well drilled for oil up on th.e
e a
1

1
h t oda water All of the 011
hillside It didn't produce 011, however, on Y o s . .
people or lots of the oil people, would go up there and go back up m
, The men would have to stand watch for the women, t ere
canyon. h t p and built two
wasn't any bathhouses or anything. Later on t ey wen u h h' ll 'd
wooden buildings and piped water into them. Water flowed down t e I e
all the time. Even in the 1920s, it still stood that way, and then they bu lit a
bathhouse. It continued on, and I understand now s.ome
corporation owns it at the present time. It has .a sulphur and also. 1t
has what they call a soda springs. The soda spnngs water IS what they cla1m
is so healthy.
M: You were talking about loading the oil onto the train, the loading platform.
Could you describe that operat ion?
G: Well, the tank cars has an opening in the top of the cars. All the different
companies has oil tanks located around. They have some of them where they
don't have the gravity-flow, and they have to pump. When it's their time to
ship their oil, Santa Fe spots their tanks at what we call our loading
platform. There's a swing-spout that you move over the top of the opening
in the tank. The loader that's in charge--1 think Mr. Armstrong was at one
time the loadi ng operator-would swing this swing-spout over the tank and
watch it. When it got up to the point where he thought it was full enough, he
would shut it off and shift to another tank. Whatever amount of oil you had
to ship, that would be the amount of cars they would spot on the sidi ng for
you. Each company had their own loading pipe lines to the loading rack, and
it was dispatched from there. The early days most all the wells were drilled
with what they call cable tools. They worked twelve hour shifts. And all the
materials was hauled with horses and wagons. Later, after the Pacific Electric
line was put in, we used to haul everything from what they call the Loftus
Land on Loftus Station. There was another station real close--they
called 1t Daum--and they woul d put cars on the sidings and there would be
pipe and lumber and whatever.
The company I worked for was the West Coast Oil Company, and it had its
own houses for the employees. We had three different locations: we had
what they called "Millionaire Row," "Poverty Row," and "Japanese Hill."
They had bunkhouses which I stayed i n when I was single. We had a large
boardi nghouse where lots of the men ate. A lady by the name of Mrs.
Campbell run the boardinghouse. I think it cost us a dollar a dav for our
board, and she fed real good. I lived in the bunkhouse and 1 also was on call
for what we called the "owl wagon." If they needed tools of kind, they
would call me out, and I would have to get a horse out of the barn and what
we called ttw buckboard and haul whatever tool it was that they needed to
fish something out of the oil wei.
M: Could you describe the bunkhouses and boardinghouses in detail?
G: Well, some of them are all built under one unit, under one roof, but the ones
that the West Coast Oil Company had was in two rooms under one roof, and
each room was separate. You had a front door and two windows in about a
ten or twelve foot square. All you had in there was your dresser and a
clothes closet and your bed. They had outside baths and bathroom facilities.
They were about 200 to 300 feet from the boardinghouse and had
going to the boardinghouse. Then they had one large bunkhouse
that. I think. had twelve bunks in it. It had rooms -on both sides-it was a
later one than the first ones. They were very neat and clean and as cool as we
could have them in those days. The Santa Fe Oil Company, too, had lots of
big shops, but the West Coast Oil Company had big steam hammers, made
their own boilers, had big carpentry shop, made all their big wheels for their
oil derricks, made lots of the tools that they used in the oil fields, and even
loaned to other companies. It was quite a self-contained oil company, and
looked very prosperous in those days.
M: You said some of the quarters were called respectively "Millionaire Row" or .
"Poverty Row." What distinguished one from the other?
G: When they first started in, everybody kind of built his own house on the
company property and put it up out of all shapes and everything else. That's
over on "Japanese Hill." Then there were smaller houses, what we called
"Poverty Row." We used to tease the people c:Ner there; some of them had
more money than the "Millionaire Row." We called it "Poverty Row"
because the houses were older and more what we call shacks. Then the
company come along and v.es expanding fast. They built all the houses just
about alike-1 would say they were about thirty foot square or maybe a little
more, thirty-six foot squar.-and it 'WOUld consist of two bedrooms, a
bathroom, a kitchen, and a ing room. All of them were built about the
same. That's the ones that everybody, because the company fixed them so
nice, called "Millionaire Row." I happened to be fortunate enough to be in
"Millionaire Row'' and didn't have anything. (laughter) I happen to know
lots about Southern California because I've been here ever since 1910. I was
a foreman for thirty-six years and drove a car all over Southern California
everyday, so I knew lots of peop e. I knew the history of Orange County,
whether of fruits, or farming, early days of the avocado, the early days of
the oil, and many things like that.
M: Well, go into that a linle more. Tell me, what the Yorba Linda/Oiinda area
was like when you moved out here ..
G: When I first moved into Yorba Unda on the comer of Rose Drive and the P.
E. line--later on they put a street in named Golden Avenue on my
property-it was all dry farming. There was no irrigation water, everything
was rain water. Most of it v.es grain and bean fiefds; mostly grain in the early
County.
M: What about medical facilities in Olinda? What happened when someone got
sick?
G: There wasn't any doctors. I got hurt one time in the oil fields. They come
out with the buckboard 'Ndgon and put me in the back of this wagon and
hauled me into the supply store, which vve called the storehouse. Then they
called Dr. Lang, which was the doctor in Fullerton. And he said, 'Well, as
long as you can get him here, bring him to Fullerton." So they took me to
Fullerton. They patched me up, and sent me back. I stayed in the
bunkhouse--/ happened to hurt a leg and couldn't walk--and the lady at the
boardinghouse took care of feeding me. The other fellows were my nurses.
That was the way most everybody was treated. The doctors did make trips.
In those days the doctors would come out from Brea and from Fullerton to
doctor the sick. But if you could get to Fullerton, it was more or less
requested to come to the doctor's office.
M: There were doctors' offices but not hospitals?
G: No. I don't remember. I think the first hospitals I can remember were in
Orange, Anaheim, and Santa Ana. Fullerton might have had some medical
care, but I was never in one. But I know that Orange had one and Santa Ana
had. Then they had the Orange County Hospital. If you went there, you had
to pay. Of course, if you didn't have money, I guess it was taken care of. But
on emergencies, they were taken to the Orange County Hospital.
M: Do you remember that terrible flu epidemic after World War I? Was Olinda
affected by that in any way?
G: Yes, quite a few of my friends passed away during that flu epidemic. I was in
the Navy at that time. I went through the service without getting the flu, was
furloughed home, and nine days after I got home I took the flu. But there
was quite a few passed away in the early days. All through the county it did
that, and all through the service there vvas lots of them passing away. There
wasn't enough doctors to take care of them in those days, so I don't really
remember how they did exist. Most of it was home care.
Well, let me tell you now the difference between the two towns of Olinda
and Yorba Linda. Yorba Linda was more or less settled as a Quaker town,
and there was quite a few churches sprung up. But Olinda was a town more
where wages was high. It was a boom town, and you pulled in more people
what they called "sports." So the people of Yorba Linda didn't think too
much of the people in Olinda, because they was always great to go to
Anaheim. Anaheim at that time had their saloons and wineries and
everything. All of us tried to get to Anaheim on Saturday nights tc dances.
So when they'd speak of Olinda, why, they'd say, "Don't go up there, that's
a kind of a rowdy bunch." But we all laughed about that because we thought
they were a better class than the ethers. (laughter)
M: A little rivalry?
G: That's right, it exists everyplace.
M: Now you mentioned earlier this SQR store. What did the initials stand for,
and what kind of services did they supply?
G: Dry goods. SQR was-the original cvvners put their names together-! don't
know. 1 believe they still own the store in Anaheim, I'm not sure. But it's
one of the old, old timers. It was a small store, but if you needed overalls or
clothing of any kind, you didn't have to get in the buggy and horse and go to
town, you could go to the SQR store, At one time, there was another
grocery store started over on that side, on Valencia Avenue, but it didn't last
long because there wasn't enough business; Stern and Goodman had it nearly.
all tied up. So the SOR store stayed there. Now, I don't know whether it
burned down. There was one of them that burned down, but I don't know
just which one it was.
The entertainment, you know, was Sunday afternoon ballgames and things
like that, as it in that history book. Walter Johnson, you know, if we
could see him play someplace, was always one of the more or less
professionals on the sandlot. He proved to be a very good ballplayer and
went on to high successes.
Raymond Jones . ec:J o -er on the Santa Fe Lease, and Ray and I both went
to work tor the est Coast: Compan o0n the same day. We were both just
young k ds. lef'lt 9 E the o company, and I was nineteen
years old. The rst was to e four horses and go down to
Loftus Statio a- ... - au - -e <M aSked me before I started, "Do you
know how to -oo : e - rses He ook-'"d at me and thought I was too
- hOrses up. went down and come back
.. tre said ho helped you load it?" And I
sad, .. We And he said, 'Well, you were in
here about two and a - . rs qu'cker than the older men did it."
(laughter We thoug .. nat 1e d -ener urr up or we might not have a job.
The depth of the Ne s started at fou hundred feet, then nine hundred, on
in until e'ghteen - red ana on up to twenty-eight hundred. As the
machinery got better the' deeper. Then they came in with the rotary
driller. It would dr faster a d the' wouldn't have the blow-outs. Every
once in awhi e ith cable too.s. t"! 't would come in a gusher. You would
have a little troub e shun - o" and things like that. But with the mud in
the hole, why, that keeps he pressure down, and you have more cOntrol
with it. I helped bu d nne o1110oden derricks while I was a young boy. That
was quite a thrill, to bu d a OOden derrick, to work up in the air driving
nails all day, and then wanting to go to a dance at night. (laLghter)
M: How would you build a derrick?
G:
M:
G:
Well, they just bring all the materials out, to the chosen and you
make the whole machinery, make the wheels and everythmg, nght on the
job. They call them bull wheels, calf wheels, and band wheels-they all have. a
different name. The bull wheel is the two large wheels that pull the tools m
and out of the hole. The band wheel, the big wheel, has what we call the
crank on it. That's run from the engine. It's about a ten or twelve foot
wheel whichever you wish to make. You make it out of two by twelves.
You tool on there to grind it down to make it round. It's a tool that
you just hone it down to where the wheel is perfectly round.' and th.at's your
band wheel. Where it gets the name of the band wheel rs that rt always
squeaks a little bit. That's where the name of band wheel comes Then
you have the bull wheel; that comes because it's strong and wrl_l pull the
tools out of the hole. You put some big ropes, three inch ropes, whrch would
be called belts, made out of hemp rope, and the band wheel turns the bull
wheels, which will raise the tools out of the hole. Then you have what they
call the calf wheel. That's just a half-wheel with a chain on it which is strong.
That's the one you handle all your heavy load-the casing and everything.
Then you have what they call the sand reel. The reason you call it the sand
reel: you run a bucket, or bailer as we call it, in the bottom of the
hole--whatever depth it is-and bail the sand out of the bottom of the hole.
Then the big beam that's up on top that you see lots of times working back
and forth, they call that the walking beam. It gets the name from early days
when the Indians and everybody had to walk from one end to the other to
make this beam work. It worked up and down, you see, and they called it
the walking beam. Well then, underneath this walking beam, if you have a
long string of tools which weighs quite a few ton and you're drilling at two
thousand feet, there's a big eight by eight post that sits underneath this
If anything breaks, this beam can't come down and hit the operator or
drrller. So they call that the headache post. Everything has a name h' h
doesn't nd . . h . w rc
. sou JUst ng t, but rt all has a meaning. Then the crown block is
nrnetv feet to one hundred and sixty feet up in the air y
0
h
occasionally d 1 h u ave to go up
an or t e bearings on what you call the crown l t f
couldn't make it, they couldn't go that high. . o s o men
How did you do the \IIIOOden construction?
Well, got what they call the main sill, the mud sill, and your cross sills,
and s all sawed. You take a beam thirty-five feet long, and you saw
these drfferent notches out where the other posts and everything will set on
it. Then YOU have what you call keys or wedges, and you finally drive that in
just like a wooden puzzle. You drive these keys in, and you have a strong
foundation to start with. In the early days they didn't have cement, and they
took redwood boards and crisscrossed them. The boards were five feet long
In the earty days the derrick was nwnty feet. Later on they put them to
tvwnty-four and twenty-six and used cement for the corners. But when you
used wood, you laid one layer down, and then the next time you crossed it
the opposite way. You made it four thicknesses, which would be eight inches
thick. Then yoo put your first timbers in which is eight by eight timbers.
n made a frame. The corners was made out of
thicknesses, or four inches thick. and they went up to eighty-four feet. Then
as they went deeper, they laid three thicknesses. All the legs was made out of
two by twelves. The girts, which is the side-stringers-they call them
"girts"-are eight feet apart, and they're made with two by twelves.
Everything is sawed and fits perfect so that the nails don't have to hold
anything. The wood all braces against wood. Then you have the braces that
runs from the girts to the lower girt. They crisscross and that makes the
derrick strong if you miter the corners all perfect and don't have any loose
corners. If you just cut them any way, why, wherever the saw landed, you
would have a half-inch space and that brace wouldn't do any good when you
wa!> pulling quite a few ton of weight. It has to land against the wood and
everything. Then youwould take a big twentY-inch timber, and you'd hew
that out in the center to make it round. On the ends you take what we used
to call foot-adzes and saws and make the different angles. Then you nail
what they call the spokes onto the wheels and make the wheels right out on
the job with the saw and foot-adze and things like that. It's quite a skill.
Some of the old-timers, why, they was very particular that you didn't saw
too dsep. When you was trimming, you had to trim them just as slick as they
could be-couldn't be no rises or low spots in it. You had to use what they
called a foot-adze and trim them real nice.
Everything was made of wood, only you did have metal flanges. On your
band wheel you had a couple of thirty-six inch flanges with a steel shaft with
a crank on the side. Then you bored the hole through the wheel when you
got it made and put this steel shaft and those flanges and bolted that tight on
the wheel. Then you put your belt on and started rolling it. Then you put
the tool on this wheet to a perfect round. That was the way we
made everythmg nght on the job. Then to lift those wheels and things like
that you had to make little "gin-po es, as we called them. We used a rope,
and tackle so that you could ift them up and set them in place. It's
qutte an experience, and enJOyed it.
M: Is "Ain-pole" short for something?
G: Well, it's where you use a block and tackle and put some guy wires out to
hold this pole up in the air. I don't know where it originated, the name of
"gin-pole," but I suppose from the cotton gins. Those days when they had to
raise cotton bales which was quite heavy, they might have originated that
name when they was raising cott.on in the early days. They called it the
"gin-pole." It still exists. because somebody tells you to go get a "gin-pole,"
if you've been in the oi fie ds. ou know what it is. (laughter)
M: Could you go into some detai about what you personally were doing those
years you lived in town. What was your part in the town at that time?
G: In Olinda?
M: In Olinda, yes.
G: Well, like I say, I worked in a phases of the oil fields, and I was eager to
make a little extra money. They asked somebody if they would be on call at
nights. If 1 wasn't on call, I had to leave somebody who would be

call,
because 1 took the job. There wasn't anything to do, only walk m
evenings. If it was in the summertime, you'd find .half of the town walk1ng
down Valencia Avenue towards the P. E. car line; that was your only
recreation. Then Saturday nights was dances. Then they had the churches.
People went to church. Occasionally they had picnics up in Carbon Canyon.
They had a couple or three of them a year. So you had to make your own
recreation because it was too far to go. Then in the twenties the automobiles
began to come in pretty thick. Then the ones that didn't have cars, why, the
other fellow that had a car, well, you might call him a taxi driver. He would
haul people to Anaheim on Saturday night and charge you for .it, not
neighborly. He'd just say, "I'm going to town." Everybody would say, "Well,
I'll give you a dollar to take me in." So that's they way transportation vms in
those days. But there wasn't really anything to do.
Well there was some tennis courts. CCMO had a couple or three nice tennis
I'd say along in the twenties, but earlier than that ... The school, I
don't remember what they had in the new school. The ball ground was up
near Martin's Drug Store on the West Coast Oil Company. Santa Fe had one,
too, down in the flats about where the park is now. The different parts of
the county-Placentia, Brea, Fullerton, and all of them--would play each
other. Santa Ana had a team and they would come out and play. So, that
was about our recreation. The area of northern Orange County in the early
days was lots of fine orange groves. It was possibly the greatest orange fruit
growing area in the county.
When you first start to drill a well, you use a large casing. It's supposed to go
down about twenty or thirty feet. That keeps the top formations from
falling in. Then as you get down below all the surface water--and I think
around Olinda we used to have to set about POO feet of pipe to keep the
bouldJrs and surface water from being contaminated--then we would drill on
down to where vve would carry a string of pipe. We tried to always carry a
string of what vve called eight-inch pipe. We'd get down to the top of the oil
sands and if we began to see the showing of gas or oil on our bailings, or on
the bit, or anything that showed oil bubbles-we didn't have the technique in
those days, you had to do it more by visual, and we had to watch real close
when they got in oil formations-you could tell the way the tools were
working what kind of formation you was in. That's when you had to watch
real close. You would call your superintendent and tell him that you thought
you had kind of hit the top of the sand. Then they would have a li ttle
consultation and talk it over. One well would be maybe fifty or sixty feet
deeper than the other one, or even deeper, before you would hit the oil
strata. Then you drill a smaller hole in the early days, and set the casing in
this smaller hole. That 'M:>uld shut off all the upper part from the lower part
of the formation, keep the other waters and muds from getting into the oil
sand. Then later along somewhere in the twenties, or it might be earlier than
that, they used cement. Then they would pump cement in back of the casing
and the walls to the casing. That would keep the upper strata from
feed.ng mto the oil zones. But nowadays they've got so much more
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technique that those are a obsolete.
Could you te me ho 0 inda was affected by the Depression 1
Well, we tried not to lay anybOdy off in our panicular company. Now, I
think the other companies operated about the same, so all the men agreed to
work half-time. I happened to be a foreman, so I was fortunate that I didn't
get in on the half-time work. But lNe worked them for fifteen days, and then
thJ other man would come on for fifteen days. That let them have money
for food, they wasn't laid off, and they kept their seniority. I dcn't know
just how long that existed, but everybody was well-satisfied with it. The
companies was always very fair to their men. They tried to make things as
comfortable as they could and spend a little more money. Each time
somebody would make suggestions, why, they would try to comply with
whatever their wishes was. Now, I was in Santa Fe Springs, a foreman then,
and I travelled to Olinda. At one time at Santa Fe Springs VIle had 750 men.
Well, that was when we called it a boom. So everybody would be pulled out
of Santa Fe Springs to go to Olinda and fix pipelines or whatever. But in the
early days each location had their own group of men. Later on the company
thought it was unnecessary to keep those men everyday when they wasn't
really needed, so they made Santa Fe Springs their headquaners. Huntington
Beach was another headquarters. Then later on, along after the war and in
the sixties, they shut down Huntington Beach, shut down Olinda, and made
Santa Fe Springs the headquarters. Now then, all of Southern California is
shut down and Ventura is the headquarters. So, you see, the automation has
taken care of that to where everything is automatic. If it isn't working, the
automation shuts it off. In the early d.avs manpower had to start it and shut
it off. Everything is automatic now. We used to have men to gauge the tanks.
Now they do it electronically and things like that. So it's really stepped up in
electronics.
Earlier you described the bachelor's quarters. You were there as a married
man. Tell me what the facilities for married people? What was your
home like?
Well, like 1 say, they built these homes. I think it was they built.
They built those in approximately 1915 or somethtng hke that. So I '-':"as
single when 1 come back from the service. When I planned gettmg
married, why, 1 asked for a house. There was a fellow who. was stckly and
was going to quit. A man by the name of Pat Maley, an lnshman,was the
superintendent. Pat and all of us went to dances all the time, which give me a
little edge. 1 asked him for a house, and he said, ''Well, when Jim retires, you
can hav'3 his house." So I had the house a couple or three months before I
got married. Because when it got vacant, I thought that was the time to pick
it up because somebody else would get it. Everybody was on the waiting list.
We lived there and raised our first two children. Then when they got to
school age, I bought in Fullenon and had a place in Fullerton. They went to
school there. Then we moved to Santa Fe Springs in 192ft Also, I bought a
ranch out there and they hit oil on my place in the fifties. I think 1954 was
when the 'Nell actually come in. But the people in Olinda all seemed to be
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h f You was invited to people's houses, and they played cards.
great to ave un.. r I never was too much of a poker
Lots of the oil fteld men played poke ' th would collect at
So time during the week or whatever, ey
player. ,me d d"d hat theY thought was singing and whooped tt
somebody s house an
1
w . B 1 noyed all of 1t,
a bit. (laug.hter) Tssedhat was EJverything was
and my wsfe pa away m
fine in our lifetime.
Did you have water in your homes?
Oh yes, we had running water and natural gas. When I first went to live on
the lease, we had our own electric plant. We didn't have Edison then, we had
our own electric plant that generated electricity. Then later on the Edison
Company poled in or brought in by line .. Then we had running water and
gas and electricity. All of our oil field clothing would get real dirty, and the
company had what we called "steam >Nashers." You'd take your dirtY
clothes-coveralls and heavy clothes-and some of it would have to be put
into kerosene or something to take the oil spots off of it. We'd go to the
boiler houses and they had what we called "steam washers." It wasn't the
easiest thing on your clothes, but it was easy on your wife. (laughter)
How did the women take care of the regular family washing?
Well most of it was the old-time scrubboards, what you would call a
washboard. Those days, 1 think, you them a little longer. You didn't
feel that you wanted to wash them f!llery day like we do the modern day. I
built a porch on to the back of the little square house that the company
built. Over in one corner I put the new style double washbasins, which at
that time you called washtubs. They were deep. Then we had a hot water
tank. I put it out on this porch, moved it out near the bathroom. My wife
had pretty nice facilities as far as hot water and the tubs. Then we had a
large septic tank out quite a ways, and we had a sewer line running to the big
catch-basin, so we was practically living in city life as far as sanitation. But,
as we said, there was washboards. In those days, everything you had you had
to iron it. Because anytime you washed it, it was going to wrinkle. So, we've
changed from those days. But I think those were happy days. Everybody
helped each other. The early settlers had planted apricots and peaches and
different things and whatever would grow in that area. If you had an
abundance of it, why, when it was ripe, here would come the neighbor
woman over with apricots or whatever. I think they lived more that way in
those days than they do today. So, as I've said many times here, we haven't
regretted any of it. When we said we was going to move to someplace else,
the kids didn't want to move and the wife didn't want to move either, so I
think that means happiness. Same thing when I moved from Fullerton to
Santa Fe Springs. My wife didn't Vl/8nt to go and neither did the kids. After
they got out to Santa Fe Springs, we lived more of a ranch life and had lots
of horses and cattle and different things. I raised my kids to where they
knew a little bit about natural life. They had everything a child could have.
One time my .life was running high fever and I went to Mrs. Campbell, the
vvoman that runs the boardinghouse. At that time she was quite a bit older,
possibly in her fifties or sixties. She ..wnt through lots of those things in life,
so she knew more or less what to do. She said, "Oh, she's all right.
Everything will be okay." But I didn't know wher-e to take her.
The grocery stores run credit in those days, and as a young couple, we had to
budget because our salary v.esn't high. It was easy to spend more than you
was making. (laughter) So we would buy what we would call a gasoline book
in order for me to have enough gas for me to drive to work. Then we
watched the bill up at Mr. Martin's store so we could run in and pick up
something real quick. Then we had the main store that would deliver. So my
wife would have to watch the grocery list and add it up once in awhile to see
whether to cut back on the food or not.
In the early daY$, as I say, we liked to dance. There was one or two fellows
who drove taxis, or you could rent them and they would take you some
place. We all would go to Seal Beach on Saturday nights and Sunday
afternoons. We'd always try to get five or six people. That's as many as he'd
haul. He'd haul five, and then the driver would be six. We'd get a group and
go to Seal Beach. So that was one of our entertainments.
M: How long would it take you to get there?
G: Oh, I guess in those days approximately an hour and a half-oil roads. Once
in awhile you'd hit a dusty place. Now it's about thirty minutes. I guess
that's a difference. laughter
M: We ' hat was See Bead' ke
.,
G: Along the o d cana peo ked the ocean, liked to fish, sen led in
there. Then -...-ere was a :"" _ - - DOom-n ce cafes. They built a pier--1 don't
know just en-and - "'sed to have a b'g roller coaster, a big tall one,
and a few recreat on ngs. ~ o g Beach ater on took most of that traffic
away from them But Sea Beac used to be one of the real lively spots in the
early days.
In the early da s. " sometx>a got married, he really got chaperoned. You
see, nowadays f ou get rna ed and ou get in your car, and they may throw
rice on you. But n those da s -ws nd of a scary proposition because you
didn't know what was gong to happen when everything started. Like one
fellow that stuttered, f he got exc ted 'he couldn't say anything. In fact, he
jerked the receiver off the ringer te ephone when he got excited. Then he
couldn't talk at all because tne receiver had a ready been pulled off.
(laughter) Anyway, when he got marred, the boys took him and put a rope
over the top of the derrick on the .nee s. put him in a sling, and pulled. He
f ~ g h t , you see, but they handcuffed m put him n a straightjacket, pulled
h1m up, and put him on top of the cro Then they took the ladder off so
he couldn't come down.\\ e then s fe wanted to know what they done
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with him. So they said, ''Well, there he is, up there." They him her,
and she went over there. She was eighty-four feet down below to
to him. He stUttered so bad she couldn't understand anythmg he sa1d.
(laughter) .... They left him up there quite awhile. He got ready to leave, so
they thought, ''Well, we'll fix him so he can't leave." Thirty minutes later
they let him come down.
When I got married, I put special locks on my house. We had been away for
about a week and come back and went right to Olive to a dance. When they
knew we were back off of our trip, why, they took the windows out and
changed my house completely around-put my bedrooms in the kitchen, put
my kitchen in one of the bedrooms (laughter) and hooked the stove and
everything up. When I come home and unlocked the front door with one of
my special keys, the lock was still on the door and everything. They took the
windows right out, and we come in that way. When they got ready to
me, why, they stole my neighbor's chickens. All of them cooked up
chicken and everything else. When we come home from the dance, we just
more or less got in the house until they came in. They had left a window
loose so that they could get in again, you see, by just lifting and setting it
out in the yard. We had just went to bed. They grabbed my wife, put a robe
on her. and I had my pajamas on one leg and pants on the other. They
carried me in and set me in the middle of the room for about half an hour
(laughter) I dressed and had potluck
Oh, that's interesting! (laughter)
That's the they'd do you in those days. So that's the reason the oil field
were pretty hvely. There wasn't any dead time if they could get somethin
on you. 9
What were some other tricks they pulled on people?
Different things. Well, once they took all of my roommate's clothes, and he
was supposed to go to INOrk. He slept real sound, so they sneaked in, got his
clothes out, rolled them up, tied them up, and put them out on the front
porch. When he got up, he didn't have any clothes to go to work in, and he
didn't want to go to the boardinghouse to try to find some. He woke me up,
and I heard him pounding on the walls. It's different things ... That's the
reason Yorba Linda thought they were a kind of a rowdy bunch. They'd
hear these different things. But I guess it all made fun in those days. We
might look back at it now that we had more fun then than we do now.
Were you out here when they had the big fire in the Carbon Canyon oi I
field? That may have been after you left.
I II f
. but we've had lots of brush
Well I don't recall any of the wei s rea Y on Ire, . f
fires' throu hout here. But now up in Aliso Canyon, ":"here I was m charge o
h
lied the Porter Ranch that catches fire abOut every year, up
that w at IS ca ' S 1 gushers you
nea; San Fernando Valley. But these in Santa Fe pnngs was o1 . '
know. like the one that's in the Gulf of Mexico now. We had about nme real
bad ones there, so I've had the experience on many of those things. Lots of
fellows haven't had that opportunity. But was fonunate to be a boss for
many years-thirty-six years-and that put me right on top of most all the
activity. I was aggressive and in there pitching. so it gave me lots of
experience.
M: I want to thank you on behalf of the California State University, Fullerton,
Oral History Program's Olinda Community History Project. This has been a
very interesting and informative interview. I think that about concludes our
interview.
END OF INTERVIEW
Jessie lsbel 1
5
Jessie Isbell moved from Illinois, where she was born in 1890, to Pasadena.
After residing there for eleven years, from 1910 to 1921, she met, fell in love with,
and married a man by the name of Bob Isbell. He had come out to Olinda in 1903,
where he was employed as a timekeeper for the Santa Fe Oil Company. In addition,
he played baseball for the company team along with a young pitching phenom,
Walter Johnson, and was himself touted as a major league prospect. After their
marriage in 1921, the lsbells added onto the little bachelor house where Bob lived
and it "made a nice little home." Until she moved to Brea in 1964, Mrs. Isbell was
very active in the Olinda convnunity, and even taJght classes in cooking and sewing
at the Olinda School for a few years during World War II.
What strikes one immediately about Jessie Isbell's memories of Olinda is the
pervasive note of community esprit de corps and intimacy. "We all enjoyed each
other," muses Isbell, "because we were mostly close together. All the people worked
right there in the oil fields." In contrast to the picture drawn by an earlier
interviewee, Mrs. Isbell recalls the various leases as close together in sense of
the "you couldn't te!l one from another; they practically leaned on each
other. Among her fondest recollections of Olinda are "the wild flowe
all over _the hills,'' the private dairy which operated "right
lease, and the bg flood that bedeviled the Olinda community in the late thirties.
E: This is an interview with Jessie Isbell for the california State University,
Fullerton Oral History Program, Olinda Community History Project, by
Patricia English, at 2851 Rolling Hills Drive, Fullerton, on July 5, 1979 at
9:00a.m.
Mrs. Isbell, I wonder if you could tell us something about how you came to
live in Olinda, what kinds of things happened there, and your impression of
life in that community?
I: I 'II be happy to because it was a happy life, more or less.
WeH, way back in 1910, my father, who was an osteopathic physician out
there, sent for us to come to Olinda from Illinois. We arrived at the Fullerton
train depot and were met by a car that was driven by a superintendent of
one of the Olinda oil fields. The thing that amazed me terrifically was that
we drove through orange groves in bloom. The skies were blue and we could
see the mountains in the distance. I thought, wei this must be next to
heaven. Then we arrived in the little town of Olinda. Temporarily I stayed
with the superintendent while I looked for a job. I took care of his little son
and daughter-three and eight years old, I believe they were-and enjoyed it
very much. But the superintendent knew I wanted a real job. Also, I wanted
to go to college so badly. So he found me a job in Alhambra, taking care of a
little boy who had tuberculosis of the spine. From there, things happened.
We moved to Pasadena, and I got to go to college.
It was after college that Bob Isbell who was then living in Olinda came to
look us up in Pasadena. We met and were married in November of 1921.
After teaching for four years in Pasadena, I came to Olinda to stay. My
husband had a little bachelor house which was very small, but we gradually
added on to it and made a nice little home. We had a garden; in fact,all kinds
of gardens. I could use any amount of land I wanted and I did. 1 grew
flowers, fruit trees and kept chickens. Well, I really got into the life of the
little community, because so many of the workers lived right there. We had
an entertainment hall where we could have parties, and we had parties and
dances and meetings of all kinds. Wonderful Christmas parties were given by
the oil company, with gifts, candies and turkeys; for the boys and
dolls for the girls. After the gifts 'lo'e put on a program httle plays,
recitations, choruses and anything anyone could contribute. It w1th
everyone dancing. 1 worked with the PTA and the Red Cross-wh1ch was the
North Orange County Red Cross-and we had a group in Brea that worked
together. We all enjoyed each we were mostly close together.
All the people worked right there 10 the 011 f1elds.
'nterested in the oil field. I had never lived near one except for
I was very ' klahoma where I taught some children from the
two years ng n 0 . ' u f .t.. we had voung engineers come out
Indian r_.-vauon So. gcrt utto a 0 ' . sta-- in Olinda for awhile.
from city 10 do ngs, and t:hey sometnnes y-..
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They would show me what they were doing, like gauging the depth of the
wells. 'They had big tabes showing how deep the wells were and how close
together. There was a pumping house there that pumped, I'd say, six or eight
wells from the one place, with long cables running across the street and
between the houses. When I went there, it was very hard to get used to it
because of a huge engine that was doing the pumping which made a big
noise-an awful noise. Bang, bang I Then it would rest a bit. Then back again
to bang, bangf-day and night . But I finally got used to that, too; and then
about mat time, they muffled it, which was good.
As our children grew, they came to love animals. We got all the kinds of
animals they Mnted on the place, and at that time most of them ran loose.
It didn't seem to bother anybody. We didn't have a lot of things that they
could bother. However, later they had to fence the different places. We had
beautiful hills to walk owr, that I can now see from my place. Then we got
bicycles, and rode them downhill. Later we got started on horses, and we
would have one horse and one bicycle. We'd go down the hill, and then the
horse would pull us back up with the bicycle. Those were happy times.
Also, -we had a car. Since it *ISn't too far to go to the beaches, we made
many happy trips both there and to the mountains. When I first came to
Olinda there was a nice store there-a general grocery store-where they sold a
little of ev.-ything, and we traded there quite a bit. But we also had some
friends in Anaheim who came from the same city in Illinois that we did, and
we. would go down there. There we found nice shopping at the SQR store
whiCh was my favorite shopping place until it closed. We also did
shopping in Brea, especially at the drug store because although we did have a
drug store for u;;e. there 'Nere other nice, little stores there in Brea too
W: ,'; used. btg shopping-for clothes and so forth-would be when j
u go to VISit the family-my mothe d f her
Pasadena. At that time r an sister and brother-in
we could get just were three or four btg stores in Pasadena where
mother, so they wouldn't vw wanted. '. could leave the children with my
in Olinda burned down bo.:: us whtle we were shopping. After the store
' started 90! W:, the to Fullerton or Brea for our grocery
whtch had a men's shop and a bi .and Strauss Company in Fullerton,
town, I think, to have us go and groce,.yk It was one of the first stores in
PIC up our..-......_:_
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en an order, and they WOUld .,. __ ._ efore that we would
htgh school, I'd call in an order" :,r. them. While the children were in
drow to high school in Fullerton a';! Strauss-because the children
gn:--ies. That was v.-y '" evening, they'd pick up the
chllcren Used it to go to school. because M had only one car and the
There were two littte chu
called tt., an rehas in Olinda-one on Santa F
children to the d one farther over near the Col bi e Avenue, as it was
'WaSII't of these, and attended a . urn a Lease. I sent the
children esoec a , llttelested in chun:h so we di bit, mvself. But my husband
I live and to Sunday School There dn t. go too much. Still, the
""-- = . . were ntce people around h
- rches. e a went to
1
w ere
P aces together.
I'd say the school in Olinda was very adequate. It wasn't luxurious, but it
had a nice, big main building of four rooms and a farge hall where they had
programs and parties. I was very interested in the PTA and at one time was
president. The children liked the school and we had good teachers. We
always put on a lot of programs for the PTA and for all the holidays, like at
Christmastime. Lovely things happened. A number of the children who
attended the school lived on the different leases. There was the Columbia
Lease, the Associated Lease, the Fullerton Lease--that was afterwards taken
over by the Shell people--and the Olinda Lease, which was where I stayed
when I first came there. There were two other leases, but I can't think of
their names. All the leases close together, and you couldn't tell one
from another; they practically leaned on each other. The children that lived
far away came by bus, so using wasn't anything new to those children. Most
of the children around my place walked. It was about a mile from our place,
but that was nothing in those days. They had a nice workshop at the school
for the boys, and they had cooking and sewing for the girls. During the war,
because I had a teacher's credential, they asked me to teach the cooking and
sewing classes at the school . So, I taught cooking and sewing for two or three
yaars, for just a couple of hours each week.
We took lots of hikes around the hills with the different children who lived
on the leases. The Boy Scouts had a nice little house on top of a hill where
you could look all over the country. When they 'NE!ren't using it, people
would walk up there, sit on their porch, enjoy the scenery, and then hike on
to some more places.
We even had our own dump in Olinda. Children would go there and gatner
things they thought 'NE!re nice to give to their parents. Some of the parents
didn't like some of the things they brought, but that was all right. I think I
still have one of the pieces of glass my son picked up there once and brought
home. Oh, there Vvre just many little interesting things to do.
Later people got cars, but at first most had only horses and buggies. If you
u rented a horse and buggy to take you there.
wanted to go to Fullerton, yo for all the time I was there.
. h ppened to have a car
But luckily, we a
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said, was an osteopathic a
Nonetheless, my dad-who, as I think the last time I ever rode In a
horse and buggy aroun_d the There was one thing that was
horse and buggy was my a; .ssed away; but, like other things.' It did.
up in the hills which I .._..-Ish hadn the hills. There was everything you
The wild flowers were Jn masses a d to gather them and press
could imagine in wild flowers. We use o many varieties of wild flowers In
People would say they had seen s the company would clean the
one place. When it was dry In fire it and backfire it, so that
hills of excess shrubbery and grass. houses But then the next year the
it wouldn't get to any of the e When they stopped the
flowers would come up just beautl u y. 'ld flowers They needed that, I
f
we had no more WI
burning because o smog, man a wild flower party come to
guess, to renew themselves. We ;heir lunches. They'd go home with
house, and so met" mes th_ev wou b ery vividly was when my father
gorgeous f o...,-ers. One time I remem er v
died. You see, e ed few ears of his life. When we went to
see about flowen for his a ad no was handling this whom I knew
sa'd, "This is f owertime; don - .. na e owers in your hills? I'd love to
make a spray of those.'' So, .w went out and picked a big tub full of blue
lupin flowers. She covered the coffin with those as a spray. They had a
beautiful pink bow on them. My father's funeral was so beautiful that it
made us happy rather than sad. We had dancing classes for the girls, and I
started a boys group. They didn't have a young boys group of scouts, so I
just had a boys group get together once a week. We would hike in the
mountains-or hills really, because we didn't have mountains there-and have
little parties. A couple of times I got the fathers to take them camping down
at the beach. This just went on in the summer to keep the children busy. The
girls had their group, and they would have a doll 5how or a pet show, and the
boys would help build things. All this helped to make the summers really
worthwhile.
E: Perhaps you could tell me more about how the town changed, and what
caused the town to ultimately decline.
I:
o d . ours. "Tne
.....e maybe at first ,..st .. . 10
be added. As the peop e had more
the houses up. Some of tnem were
hen those people would move to Brea
when a lot of people
'lils is the case, that
= ne.;ghbors and friends.
wou d be kind of a scramb e among : ose
rnproved home. I think that s tte" p
have. It was really interesting that peop e .wre
In any event, they gradua moved a arge !. And then,
during the war, the compan 1bega- destro - : not-so-we 1-built
houses because by this time the preferred - "' ... e e off the lease.
And all the leases did that and .ust - - osea o ... After my husband
died, there were only four of us on . Santa c:e Lease-the CCMO Company
[ Chanslor-Canfield Midway Oi Compan-; - -s tnen. Now it is the ()NO
0 Company l Chanslor Western 0 and 0 e - ment Company J, but it's
Santa Fe Railroad property. It a De gs - - .. e because they took out
the oil and piped it down to the Santa r=e trac near the Santa Ana River,
and used it to produce oil for the r companies began to feel
that they didn't want the houses ng old; they were still
lcAAninn un fnr
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they got settled-it was these people who were no longer _provided with
housing on our lease. Gradually, almost everyone moved t_o places.
But we had to stay there. We lived right next to t_he b1g and my
husband was the office manager. They called him ch1ef clerk In those_ days.
We had very few people there for a number of years. The other leases d1d the
same thing, so it became a very small community. The school dropped
to five pupils, yet they wanted to keep the school there. It was an
school with its own district and run by the men that lived and worked 1n the
oil fields. There were some people that took ov:r the school. At
about that time, they were talking about putting the dam 1n, they were
wondering what to do about the school. They wanted to build
school because that one would be spoiled. As it turned out, the mam
building of the old school was eventually to Brea and used as a
recreation building. At that time, they were try1ng to get a new board
member for the school, since some of them had been on the Board for years,
and one of them had quit. They called me and asked if I would be on the
Board. 1 said, "No, I won't. I'm free now and I'm going to do as I please."
Each one of the board members then came to me, and one finally said, "If
you don't take it, we won't have any school." So, I took it. I loved the little
school and five pupils that were there. I wasn't teaching there at all, because
by this time, I had started teaching in Fullerton. Still, I joined the group. We
arranged for a new school up the canyon, where I watched it being built. We
went through problems here and there but straightened them out. It was a
very exciting experience. I stayed out my term which, I think, was two or
three years. When I moved to Brea, I couldn't be on the Olinda board, and
that ended that part. The Olinda school is still there, but it did join Brea
eventually.
E: You mentioned earlier that you taught cooking in Olinda.
1: Yes, because they couldn't get enough teachers with gas to drive out from
town, and I lived out there. I had a teacher's certificate, so I went down
there one or two days a week, and enjoyed that very much. Part of the time
while I taught there in the old Olinda school, I had just four or five girls in
the cooking and sewing class. The last year, they got another teacher for
sewing. I asked if I could be released from some of it right after the war, but
I kept on with a fifth grade group that they didn't know what to do with
while others were doing things. I taught them cooking, and mostly we
cooked candy and cookies. But, there were only five little girls and boys.
There was one little Mexican American in the class who liked cooking sc
much he later became a chef. I substituted in the big school once in awhile. I
also worked with the PTA collecting kindergarteners for the next year. I
went through all the leases to find out what children were coming into the
school, and that way I met a lot of people that were new around. I enjoyed
that very much.
I recall, too, our having nice dances at the in Olinda. Well, we
didn't call it a clubhouse then, but that's what it would be called now. My
husband was in charge of letting people use the building.
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Wlut type medica. fiiCiJ;ties were there in Q ;nda?
did have a doctor in Brea. I believe his name Kes Dr. Davis; he was a
ery man .. When ..w had medical problems, we went to him. But if it was
Important, I would go to Pasadena, because I could leave my
chtldren wsth my mother. We did go to Dr. Davis for quite awhile. Then he
got older, and a y.oung man came there, a Or. Curtis, who then got a helper,
They were very happy and pleasant young men, and we
tored w.th them many veers. Dr. Curtis finally grew older and gave it
up. Dr. Westerhout dted of leukemia, but other doctors kept coming in
_They had a !ovely, small hospital there. From then on, there was
usmg that small hospital. But in the early days, there was 1 think
JUst one doctor that we all went to there. ' '
And where was that small hospital located?
In Brea. It's still there. It isn't used as a hospital any longer, but 1 think
st.ill a doctor in it. Oh, by the \lley, the Santa Fe Company had a big
hospstal tn Los Angeles where the people working for the company would
get free treatment for practically everything. Of course, they paid a certain
amoum-1 think our monthly fee was about eight dollars. But. when they
had to go to the hospital, it was all free. It was very good care. My husband
went many a time. In the early days, they would allow the wives to go there
and be treated at a great discount. Most of the people from the Santa Fe
Lease ..wnt in there for their big things until later years. At the time my
husband died, he was in that hospital. They paid all of his expenses, so there
was nothing for me to pay later on which was a great relief. There were also
good doctors in the area. There was a verv good German doctor in Placentia,
Dr. Brunemeier, who I thought was way ahead of his time. It intrigued me;
he seemed to know exactly what was wrong with you. When Dr. Curtis went
south and Dr. Westerhout died, we changed to this one in Placentia. He also
worked with the Santa Fe. He was a very, fine doctor, and a very fine
man; he was willing to treat any of the poor people who couldn't afford to
pay him. They all loved him. Everybody in Placentia knew about him.
What year did you say you left Olinda?
Oh, 1964, 1 think that was it. Let's see, my died in 1961. so, yes,
It's the spring of 1964, in May, that we left Olinda.
Were there ever any problems over the land leases, as to who owned what
area or anything like that?
No. There were stakes right here and there and everyplace. EverybOdy knew
just where their part was.
How about law enforcement or anything like that? Were there any sheriffs in
Olinda?
I: Oh, ves. was a'"' interesting My husbond, who wen-t ou-t there
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E: What type medical facilities were there in Olinda?
1:
Well, did have a doctor in Brea. I believe his name was Or. Davis; he was a
very mce man. When ..w had medical problems, we went to him. But if it was
anything very important, I would go to Pasadena, because I could leave my
children with my mother. We did go to Or. Davis for quite awhile. Then he
got older, and a young man came there, a Dr. CUrtis, who then got a helper,
Or. Westerhout. They \\Ere very happy and pleasant young men, and we
doctored with them for many years. Dr. OJrtis finally grew older and gave it
up. Dr. Westerhout died of leukemia, but other doctors kept coming in.
_They had a !ovefy, small hospital there. From then on, there was always
usmg that small hospital. But in the early days, there was, 1 think,
JUst one doctor that we all went to there.
E: And where was that small hospital located?
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In Brea. It's still there. It isn't used as a hospital any longer but 1 think
st_ill a doctor in it. Oh, by the way, the Santa Fe had a big
hospital rn Los Angeles where the people working for the company would
get free treatment for practically everything. Of course, they paid a certain
amountl think our monthly fee was about eight dollars. But, when they
had to go to the hospital, it v.es all free. It v.es very good care. My husband
went many a time. In the early days, they would allovv the wives to go there
and be treated at a great discount . Most of the people from the Santa Fe
Lease v-ent in there for their big things until later years. At the time my
husband died, he ....as in that hospital. They paid all of his expenses, so there
was nothing for me to pay later on which was a great relief. There were also
good doctors in the area. There was a ver-y good German doctor in
Dr. Srunemeier, who 1 thought was way ahead of his time. It intrigu_ed me;
he seemed to know exactly what ..ws wrong with you. When Dr. CurtiS went
south and Dr. Westerhout died, we changed to this one in Placentia. He a.Jso
worked with the Santa Fe. He was a very, very fine doctor, and a very f1ne
. he was willing to treat any of the poor people who couldn't afford to
man, . . h.
pay him. They all loved him. Everybody 1n Placentia knew about 1m.
What year did you say you left Olinda7
Oh 1964 1 think that was it. Let's see, my husband died in 1961, so, yes,
It's' the of 1964, in May, that we left Olinda.
Were there ever any problems over the land leases, as to who owned what
area or anything like that?
No. There were stakes right here and there and everyplace. Everybody knew
just where their part was.
How about law enforcement or anything like that? Were there any sheriffs in
Olinda?
' : Oh, "es, 'WBS an intet"esting situation. M'l husband. who went out there
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in 1903 as a timekeeper and ballplayer for the company, just loved the place.
As time went on, they needed a kind of a guard or watchman for a few
things. Out there, there wasn't much destructive behavior of any kind, really,
but he was appointed by the county as a deputy sheriff. The strange part
about it was that his father was a deputy sheriff-a Texas ranger--in Texas.
Although he could arrest somebody in town for doing something wrong, he
wouldn't do that. He'd leave it to the cities and the rest of the county. But
he was a deputy sheriff. A few times something happened and usually the
parents of the children INOuld come to him first, and then straighten it out
themselves. There 'MIS very little thieving and very little rowdiness of any
kind. They would go to the towns to do that.
E: Could you now please tell me a little more about your husband before we
return to the subject of Olinda? I understand he was quite a baseball player.
I: Certainly. My husband was born in San Marcos, California, which is in San
Diego County, on Oct. 2, 1884. His family moved from there when Bob was
in his early teens. At this time he became interested in baseball and soon
joined a team. He played weekends. A little later he apprenticed to a
plumber but decided instead he wanted a business job. Graduating from
business college, he found a job with an oil tool company and continued
with baseball. The Santa Fe Oil Company was looking for help in Olinda and
wanted someone who could play ball. So in 1903 Bob was hired as a
time::eeper and a team player. The Olinda team became famous, and he was
still playing for them when we got married.
Music had been one of his many interests, when he could afford it. He
bought a very inexpensive viola, and with a book of instructions began to
teach himself. Very soon he began practicing with a young lady who played
the piano. Then he started taking lessons. The two of them acquired a wind
instrument and a drummer and began playing for dances all over the County.
After our marriage he gave up the dance band, and joined the Orange County
Symphony Orchestra as Concert Master. As a sideline he sold insurance to
members of clubs and friends in Orange County. He was a member of the
Elks Lodge and became Chairman of the Board.
E:
Could you go into detail about the home in Olinda that you lived in?
1:
Our home was a piece-by-piece built home. It was a little home, about 14 by
20 feet when 1 moved into it. It had a 14 by 14 feet living room, and a
corner of the living room served as the kitchen. There was a s ~ a l l bathroom
and a bedroom that was just big enough to get a bed and a little stand ln.
That's what 1 moved into. Then, the children began to come. We sti II I ived
that way for awhile. Well, when we knew one was coming, we decided to
build on. We built a large bedroom, which had windows all around that we
could open and had screens on them for the hot weather. Later on, when the
children were grown, we had to make rooms for them. We enlarged the house
until it was a seven-room house, and each one finally had their bedroom.
That was the last time we added onto the house, but it grew with us and was
r II nice home when we ot through with it. We l ived there for eighteen
had to move out because we only leased
, 8.. Here d .-e ed ff n th'1rty
and aaxr::;: me original lease, we could be mov o 1
:: - s .vas . e I'\ en thad built a house. Well, they told us we had to
'S. there had to move. They gave two years. I
eave. AJ the ve peop e igh y and get
'ust said to mvset . getting o der. 'm going to t awa
J bl'shed ne place." We ended up in Brea With a smaller home but
esta tna w .
one with a huge yard and a poo which I enjoyed very much untl I moved
here at eighty-six.
E: Do you remember any incidents involving Olinda people?
1: There's a little incident in'JOiving a family that kept cows. You see, we had
our own private dairy right there on the lease. The man who ran it, Mr.
Collins, had five or six cows. A family of eight boys lived nearby. One of the
older boys had moved away when I came, but the next one operated the
milk delivery system. He was the milkman. He went and picked up the milk
at the dairy and delivered it to our door on foot. He walked the place. He
didn't even have a car, but he was a lovely young man; in fact, his whole
family, the Ledbetters, was lovely. Each of the boys flew up and
stayed-'M!II, the younger ones here a lot. Some of them are
living in Brea now. Most of them were brilliant young people. I taught one of
them, the youngest one, in my last teaching stint there in Olinda. They lived
in a house that was a little more of a house than a lot of the others. It was
right down on what is now carbon canyon Road. There was a large piece of
land beside their place, and we got to talking about what we could do with
that, or what the company would let us do. We finally had a tennis court
built for the whole community They could come there and play. These boys
were always around there: they helped to keep the place clean. The school
used it for awhile; and when the people began to move off, the upkeep was a
little more. People were moving a\Wy, and others were gr-owing up and
growing older, so, the company finally destroyed it. We didn't mind .n that
time.
E: What did you do for entertainment in Olinda?
1: Well, there 'MIS La Vida Hot Springs in Carbon Canyon with its hot baths. At
first, it was just a little building and beside it a row of little cubbyholes. We
used to go up there and have a hot bath. At the time, you could get
somebody to give you a good rubdown or an osteopathic treatment. It grew
and it grew, and they built a nice big building and a hote\. Later, they put in
a hot poo\, where people could go and soak in the heat. Then came a
pool-a lovely, big swimming pool with a nice bathhouse to go
wtth t. I usua\\y went out there about two or three times during the winter
when I was teaching. Another thing that they had there was a faucet with
soda water that \IWIS from the hot spring that came up there. Thev used that
for their hot poot and for warming their co\d poo\ a b\t. You cou\d br\f\g
vour big. tN.pl\on P.r and get 1iOme water and take \t home
Most of us d\d t.hon. 'The C1'9ek just ran canstant\'f R\ mmer d \"'
. ved hat I -- an W\f\ter. ne
en,o water. \t WMn t oer soda but \t d\ci have a soda f\avor.
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years. Bu- .- had to move out because we only leased
the land acc:xY - na lease, we could be moved off in thirty
days. Th s was had built a house. Well, they told us we had to
leave. AI the "" ng there had to move. They gave us two years. I
just said to -,--- __ ng older. t'm going to move right away and get
estat> ished a ne. ace. e ended up in Brea with a smaller home but
one .,. ... a -wge rctra and a poo ch enjo "ed very much until I moved
here at eighty-six.
Do you remember ncidents nvo ng 0 inda people?
There's a n e inc'dent invo ng a farm that kept ca.vs. You see, we had
our own prvate dar rr.ght there on the ease. The man who ran it, Mr.
Collins, had five or six cows. A famil of eight boys lived nearby. One of the
older boys had moved away when I came, but the next one the
milk detivery system. He was the mi kman. He went and picked up the milk
at the dairy and delivered it to our door on foot. He walked the place. He
didn't even have a car, but he was a lovel young man; in fact, his whole
family, the Ledbetters, was lovel Each of the boys wew up and
stayed-well, the younger ones staye6-around here a ot. Some of them are
living in Brea now. Most of them were brilliant voung people. I taught one of
them, the youngest one, in my lcm teaching stint there in 0 inda. They lived
in a house that wts a little more of a house than a ot of the others. It was
right down on what is now Carbon Canyon Roacf. There was a large piece of
land beside their place, and we got to talk'ng about what we could do with
that, or what the company would let us do. We fina y had a tennis court
built for the whole community They could come there and play. These boys
were always around there; they helped to keep the p ace c ean. The school
used it for awhile; and when the peopfe began to move off, the upkeep was a
little more. People were moving away, and others were growing up and
growing older, so, the company final y destroyed it. We didn't mind at that
time.
What did you do for entertainment n Olinda?
Well there v.es La Vida Hot Springs in Carbon Canyon with its hot baths. At
first' it was just a little building and beside it a row of little cubbyholes. We
used to go up there and have a hot bath. At the you could get
somebody to give you a good rubdown or an osteoPathic treatment. It
and it grew, and they built a nice big building a"<! a hotel. Later. they put 1n
a hot pool, where people could go and soak .n the. heat. Then came a
swimming pool-a lovely, big swimming pool With a mce bathhouse to go
with it. 1 usually went out there about two or three times during the winter
when ' was teaching. Another thing that they had there was a faucet with
soda water that v.as from the hot spring that came up there. They used that
for their hot pool and for warming their cold pool a bit. You could bring
your big, five-gallon jar to this faucet and get some water and take it home.
Most of us did that. The creek just ran constantly, summer and winter. We
- ... .._ . - - , .
We also had very hard drinking water. It was very pure, but very hard for
washing or cleaning. But, we had all we could use. We had a flat rate for our
utilities, and they cost very little. When I left there, my whole expenses on
the lease--for the yard and all the utilities-was eight dollars a month.
E: Do you recall any weddings or that type of thing?
1: No. Well, most of the young people my children's age moved away. So when
my children got back from the war, there were very few younger people left.
I really don't think l went to any weddings.
E: What about the war? Do you think it had an effect on Olinda? Did it change
the town at all?
1: Oh ... yes. That's when they decided to get rid of the houses.
E: You mentioned earlier that this was the start of the decline.
1: Yes, it went downhill fast as far as our community was concerned. All of the
leases that I mentioned earlier-and there was another one, the Loftus
Lease--they all got rid of the people and all our houses. We were among the
last five families left there in the whole community, and they finally decided
to get rid of our houses. So, it wasn't a community for a great number of
years. There was a little store there for quite awhile, and then there was a
little vegetable stand that came in, but it didn't last too long. No, there was
just nothing doing there for a long time, but there was a lot doing about the
time I went out. They were drilling so much there at that time, and, 1 guess,
they're still drilling. The first well drilled there was drilled by a Doheny from
Los Angeles. He had drilled wells in Los Angeles, and he came out there
discovering patches of black with dirt in it. That's what they called Brea at
that time. It was oil seeping out and mixing with the dirt. He decided there
was oil there, so he drilled. When they fenced our yard, they just fenced out
that oil well that was so close to our house. So, we had a little backyard and
the well there, pumping all the time.
Another thing I recall is that they had a forestry service in Yorba Linda, and
a fire lookout in the hills. We had a bad fire come through there. All the men
on all the leases got together to fight it. They kept if from any houses, but it
burned over the hillsides. Aher that happened, they were so anxious to not
let it happen again, that Yorba Linda kept looking all over the hills. Since we
had a telephone-most people didn't then, but we had a telephone because
the office was our house after they closed the office in the afternoon--we
took all the calls then. Every once in awhile, they'd call me from the Yorba
Linda Forestry which later became the Orange County Forestry. They'd say,
"Do you see any fire any place? We see some smoke." And, I'd say, "One
minute. I'll go up on the derrick." And, I'd eli mb that derrick and go up and
look around. Usually it was just a little bonfire or something in somebody's
yard, but they couldn't quite find it. They could just see the smoke above
the hill. It was always fun to climb that derrick. Most people wouldn't;
they'd get scared But, I loved it and that's the only time I'd be allowed to
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heath.
Mrs. sbe
behalf of
- e right by my bed because
- -ght. So, I had to call in.
e that-when they thought
call to the big station that
_ erybody to be sure to have
- _ or three times during the
ergency.
on would drain so many big
n 1938, I think, we had a
got to be a raging torrent,
~ ~ ~ ... , ~ . ..-._ - - They were afraid it was
to put stuff in there so it
cl.lring those rainy spells
s and so on, and watching
'I'd fall in. The one time,
was in the kitchen, and I
ook at it, and I got scared
own there. So I called my
v were down there, but
dlstroyed and just made a
- : hurt. I was afraid of that
s a winding, just barely
- car you'd have to pull off
nto the stream, quite a
- .nother direction. It was
quite a drive. So, there
nes, had a ranch there. It
and, right where the
s t him and his wife. He
... . never we wanted to, we
go out the other side if
- -e-e that were enclosed by
- evs. There were lots of
hiring them very much.
... s almost across from
- ease that I lived on is
~ - m e , and there was so
st had to fence it
- eac year?
.e had terrible
-- ew, and on
..,mia State
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epuno JO sa!Jowaw pue
JnOA ale!:la.Jdde I 40nw M04 noA lfol Ol lUeM I 'Al!SJaii!Un
- - ---- - --- -
- ----- - ---- -- -- -
-- - -- --
Ell a ArmstrorlQ Post
7
A living link between old and new Olinda is Ella Armstrong Post. This is
because she not only resided in the area, on a number of different leases, from the
early twenties until her marriage in 1936, but in recent years she has s e r v ~ as one of
the moving spirits of the annual old-timers picnics. Readers will remember the
allusion to Jack Armstrong in the introduction to the Harold Van Patten interview,
and it should be noted here that this honored war hero was Mrs. Post's younger
brother.
In her interview, the decades of the twenties and thirties in Olinda assume a
colorful vitality. In a word, enthuses Post, "the little village was a fine place." For
children there was hiking, camping, hunting, and congregating evenings at the tennis
courts on the Santa Fe Lease. School, too, was fraught with excitement, both at
Olinda School, where the principals during her time were Mrs. Cooper and Mr.
Barnes, and at BrevOiinda High School, where she was active in drama, music, and
sports and graduated .. ,n the first class that had gone through the whole four years."
Mrs. Post a so' e aborates on Olinda's household life-cooking, shopping, and
washing-and tickles the historical fancy of readers by her recollection that in 01 inda
each dog had a fami name and "assumed family personalities." "So," chides Mrs.
Post, "there were a, few dogfights in that area."
M:
is_ an interview with Ella Armstrong Post for the California State
Oral History Program's Olinda Community History
ProjeCt, by Jack1e Malone, at 2:;47 Orange, Costa Mesa, California, on July
9, 1979, at 1:00 p.m.
Now, Mrs. Post, please tell me about your family background: where you
were born, your brothers and sisters, and your early years.
P: I was born in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania on August 7, 1912. My father was
working for the Spencer-Lens Company in Pittsburgh, so that was the reason
we were there. At that time there were only two children, my older brother,
Percy, and myself. Then when I was very young, approximately one year
old, we removed ourselves from there to East Otto, New York where my
father opened a garage business. In 1916 we moved to a little town in
western New York called little Valley, and in 1917, we moved to Hamburg,
New York. We were in Hamburg, New York at the time we decided to move
West. My brother, Milton John, was three years old at that time and my
brother Percy was thirteen years old.
I was ten years old when we came West. Father had always wanted to come
West and had taken a few trips delivering trucks from western New York to
Texas .. He had a taste of what it was like out West, and he couldn't wait to
get to California. Then, too, his uncle Sidney Williams had told him stories
about an old relative by the name of Marshall Williams, who had come to
Orange County perhaps in the mid-1 COOs and had resided in the Madame
Modjeska area. Williams Canyon is named after this relative. My great uncle,
my father's uncle, Sidney Williams, had come out to visit, either his own
uncle or cousin, I'm not sure of the relationship. At that time Uncle Sidney
secured a job from Madame Modjeska. He was her stable man and took care
of all the carriages and horses. He fell in love with a little gal, Nora Opp,
whose parents had homesteaded in Williams Canyon. So, father was always
anxious to come West because of the great uncle and the stories he'd heard
and his trips to Texas. When he received a telegram from a cousin, Arthur
Everhart who lived in Brea, he was happy. In 1922 Brea was a very booming
oil town, and father now had a good reason to move West. His cousin who
had preceded him was working for the Union Oil . sent my
father a telegram around Christmastime of 1921 and he satd, W_est
have a job for you twenty-five dollars a day." Can you tmagme
soon, we be' paid dollars a day in those years? Well, my father
someone mg . 't even a salary of five dollars a day at
believed it! And I thmk there wasn F d had given some of his employees
that time, except that maybe hted He left mother with three
five dollars a d
3
Y! Father v:as JUst in. July. 5o father just bundled
children and one that gomg to up that twenty-five dollar a
up and came out here m January I was a little bit in error. It wasn't
day job. But when he got the a day. And that was big
twenty-five a. day tt nd lived in the old Penn Hotel and
money! He arnved tn Placentta a h ld
commuted from Placentia to the Union Oil Company garage on t e o
Steams Lease. He was superintendent of the auto repair shop there.
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. . u her auction, and her
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f 1922 mother had fmtshed P . We came by Atchtson,
In late av o . d u't i't in on the tram. H y
had boxed up the tumtture an P . 'th mother stopping at the arve
Topeka and Santa Fe 'to dinner of the five days and
Houses and having unc ' a h'ng us because service wasn't that
four nights on the tram. Mother was rus I nd ust
good and she didn't want the train to leave us. So we had to hurry a. J
have a little bit to eat, because children eat slowly, you know._ We tn
San Bernardino and we had to detrain there and catch a httle hne mto
Placentia. From 'Buffalo, New York, we rode on the Erie Railroad.
Father had a little apartment ready for us in the Penn Hotel. Grandma Penn
was a well-known hoteJk.eeper of Placentia, and she housed us for about a
month, I think, in the. hotel. Father kept trying to find a little place for us to
rent. So we did find a place just below the hotel. It was a duplex at 123 Main
Street--and we got in that house just about two weeks before my little
brother Jack was bom. He was born July 19, 1922. He is the brother who
became famous when he was in the Air Force, and a few years ago, a
monument was placed on our homesite, in the Carbon Canyon Regional
Park, in his honor. This is a little bit of the background of our journey West
as I recall it.
The _ethnic background as far as the basic extraction of the family was
Enghsh Welsh on the Armstrong side and German and French on the
=r Side. So that is the European background. 1 believe all the
were bom. in this country. 1 think the grandparents on my
s _sde were m western New York, and the grandparents on my
ather s were, I thmk, from New Hampshire, so that would be of the old
Roger W1lhams background. So that's the background of the family.
NOi
s there anything else you'd like to know about the background?
that is sufficient. COuld you describe Orange County when you
Oh. es, Orange County was so wonderful in those years of long ago. We
P yed around just in our own little yard during that short time we lived in
P acentia. I can remember that the orange groves were really a thriving
business for the farmers. I can recall mother giving me two great big
....... u ............ Lea u ... !;IV ..Ju_, lu lin: f"li:lcttntla Bradford Brothers
Packinghouse to bring as many oranges as I could carry home. It was two
great big shopping bags full, and I could barely carry them. Placentia had just
about two or three streets: Main Street and Bradford Avenue and then the
other main street .. Santa Fe Avenue-that was the _street _by
de t One could go down about one block and then 1t was hke an 1magmary
po . nt down this one block and stepped on beyond
fence, because as you 'II I had never seen any Mexicans in western
that, it was a small Mexcan VI age. of Mexicans at the age of ten. I
New York. In fact, I had never even heardbout a half of a block into the
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1
t rtuf because I had to go a
1
was a htt e ea d down to the packinshouse. can
Mexican village to make a tum to o
remember seeing those Mexican men sitting in front of the stores with their
hats pulled down over their eyes on a hot day, and I would hurry by to get
to the packinghouse. 1 was really very fearful of people that I had never seen
before. So 1 wasn't really fond of going down to get the oranges, but that
was my job and I was an obedient child.
Then, too, there was a lovely little lady, Mrs. Snell, who had a general
mercantile store-perhaps more a dry goods store-and we were always going
down there to see what we could buy to do some fancy work, or get some
yardage to sew, or some yam, or some embroidery cotton, or something.
Grandma Perin was a very important person as far as business was concerned
in the little town of P1acentia, and so was Mrs. Snell.
As I say, Orange County was really a beautiful place to live. When we moved
from Placentia, father bought us a home in Brea, on the Steams Lease, which
was only walking distance from where father worked in the garage. Any day
we could go out in our yard on that little hillside and look toward Long
Beach and see with Daddy's high-powered field glasses the many battleships
at sea; you could just pick them out very distinctly with father's German
e d 9 asses. That ...es a great sport. And I can remember one time
we were ha ng an ec DW -- :-e must have been in 1924 or
192&-and we - ... a b k' 1
Y smo lOg gasses to protect our
eves as anted o be : e b g event. It was fun living out there
on tl1f t:tea ..... s Lease ... - - -...... he
..._... wast same as when we lived in
the ed in the homes on the lease. But
- - .vas a Union Oil house, but it was
- e C inda Land Company Lease.
-- - e for Union Oil. He had a little
un on
0 , . I= -nagan
gaso - e stat -: a
Land Lease s me.
' t must e been a __ _
a n e one atx> e -
'ed there v o-
this location. Father rented - ,..- -
dol ars for each electrica ll
was no such thing as p ug s --
rooms, youd have six ghts
twelve dollars a month. The . ...a=- - - -
Father was anxious to .,.
releasing some of the homes
is now the carbon Canyon :--
the house and I lived there ...... : :-"!
1936. The boys could go hu eo.
- - a little bit above where the
a tt e service station there run
rage in conjunction with his
e were living on the Olinda
.. -- paid rent by paying two
_ '::1 ... own from the ceiling. There
- mopboards. If you had six
- - rs a ight, the rent would be
.. ,.. uded in the rent.
- and the oil company was
we moved down to what
... - d some trees and bought
marriage to James Post in
- - heir guns, and they could
go to a little reservoir pond
50
wh .
H' . ere n the area of Valencia and Imperial
They would either nde their bikes or hike over there and go
f1sh1ng. They could catch a few fish, not too far away from home. Father
enjoyed hunting with his sons. He would skin the rabbits and put them to
soak in salt water, and he loved to fry them for all of us for breakfast.
Cottontail for breakfast was a real feast for us. (laughter) And one time he
shot a bobcat up in the canyon just above the house. I don't know whether I
still have that hide or not, but for many years I did have the bobcat hide.
You see, it was a real fun place, with some excitement at times, especially
when we shot a gopher or rattlesnake.
The Chanslor Canfield Midway Oil Company, which is now Western
Development Company, was fond of recreation; they really do
things for the children, and not only the children of their
employees but the children of the whole communitY. They had a
hall and we had our Christmas parties and our dances there. Then they burlt
this' great big tennis court, and we could play till midnight every night on
that tennis court, and that was the congregating center for all the youth. My
little family was fortunate. Father, being a master mechanic, kept a lot of
cars going, so we had three cars, sometimes four. And it was not costly, even
though the Depression was on, because Father kept them all in good running
order and taught the boys to repair their own cars, too. Later Father went
back to work for Union Oil. Sometime later he went to work at Shaffer Tool
Company, and left there to go to Hawthorne, Nevada, to teach the sailor
boys in the machine shop at the Hawthorne Ammunition Depot. From this
depot, he was retired at age seventy-two. After high school graduation,
Milton, my second youngest brother, went to Brown and Sharp School of
Apprenticeship in Providence, Rhode Island. I was married i'n 1936 and
_ _ __. --.... """ "'"'v li'" remained at home in Olinda with my father.
The .inle village was a ftne place We .
and. the boys used to have a lot we could hike,
havng what they called their big m II" 9 camp up tn the canyons and
to go up there, we were never stews; the girls were not allowed
and his father raised a lot of ut there was a Mexican boy in town
a ays invite Chief Reyes-we of corn, so they would
could bring some corn from his fath , re. they knew he
sor:ne d of a corn bake and I said I was .invited to
tn ou fellows and eat that sto en com. e_yes: I m not gorng to go
cou d pick all that corn." You see i , you drdn_ t your father if you
needed a ' the corn he had. And he, ttme, and his father
dad for the couple of ears that you m'ight I'll just ask.
'?"he too, there was a little spur line of tne Atchison Topeka d h
h , an t e Santa
,e oomrng up t ere to PICk up the oil tanks, and the railroad employees
ould bring the little sidecars nto town-they rode around in those to do the
work on the would derail them and put them by the
Side, and catch another nde '" another little handcar down to Atwood
these Mexican emp ovees on the railroad lived in Atwood o;
some su tatlon nearby. So then the boys, at night, would get together,
ten of .them. and lift that handcar up onto the rail and I could et a
nde on the handcar; they'd get it going real fast. There was a f;ttle
trestle over a httle creek, which would now be in the area of the dam and so
I was always afraid that bridge wouldn't hold up. (laughter) Of it
would, but that was just a \Wrry. You can know I enjoyed that ride, even
though I considered it dangerous.
So those were great days out in the country in Orange County. And we knew
nothing about going into town except for groceries or to the theater; we just
had all our own recreation and fun with all of our neighbors. Each neighbor
had a dog, so there were many dogs in the village, and dog had the
family name. There was Rex Armstrong, Rover Schubert, Fntz Osborne--and
the dogs assumed family personalities! (laughter) So there were a few
dogfights in that area.
After 1 married, I moved to Los Angeles. I married a man who was an
employee of the Union Oil Company; he had been a family friend for years.
As I say, we moved to Los Angeles where he had built me a new home, and I
remained there for about twenty-five years. Just before my marriage I moved
down to this cottage in Costa Mesa, where I am now, because I was working
in Santa Ana and I had come down here to live with my relatives. They had
built this little cottage in 1923. I came down here for just about a year and a
half before I married. I moved into Los Angeles in September of 1936.
About five after the Watts Riot in Los Angeles, 1 moved back to
County 1n 1965 and into this home in Costa Mesa which my husband
had f1xed up as a rental before he lost his life in an accident in 195F. Of
over all years, we were coming and going because and
fnends were always m Yorba Linda, Olinda, Brea, Anaheim and Costa Mesa.
M: You mentioned your father and brothers hunting rabbits; did they catch any
other game?
P: There were deer there. but I think maybe Father just didn't have the nerve to
shoot a deer. I don't recall his ever wanting to hunt for deer; he may have
had some kind of hangup about not wanting to shoot deer. But he shot a lot
of cottontails, and since it was the Depression times, the meat came in
handy. Then, too, the men in the village who were out of work would
usually go fishing at Newport Beach on the pier, because they didn't have
any money to go out on the boats. Then they would bring the fish home,
and smoke it, and divide it among the neighbors. We all came to love
seafood. Today my brother lives almost exclusively on seafood.
We lived very close to the Olinda School, so it was nice to just go over to the
school and play in the yard there, even though we 't have
equipment to amount to anything. I think they had some over there
and a baseball diamond. The tennis court was more attractve, so we all
leamed to play tennis.
. . r school and she's now
Mrs. Gladys Cooper was our pnncspal at the gramma . T'
about ninety-three years old. 1 have visited her at her home m apton,
ft h 1 ft r school. After moving
Cali fomia. She became very famous a er s e e ou d
to Pasadena, she became a principal of schools up there.
ockbreeder so she learned how to breed stock and w n e I
a very famous breeder. She took many state prizes for her She
ve two complete herds to Chico State College. I think by .shes sold
ga st of her cattle but she has a beautiful home on the ranch m T1pton. She
a lot

the students that knew her in the seven years that she
was there at the Olinda School. We had two other principals that I knew: Mr.
Barnes and Mrs. Overton. 1 had graduated from the eighth grade there by the
time that Mrs. Overton was the principal.
1 recall upon entering high school that the BreaOiinda school bus came and
picked us up and took us to the new Brea-Oiinda school. The first year I
went to high school, there was no Brea-Oiinda High School and we had to
use the classrooms of the Brea Grammar School. Mr. Fanning-who is now
about 100 or 101, if he hasn't passed away by now-was the principal of the
Brea Grammar School and provided their manual training building for the
first and second year high school students from Olinda. As for those students
who lived out in the Olinda area who were in the third and fourth years of
high school, they had to go to Fullerton to finish their work, because the
Brea-Oiinda School District only had enough facility for two classes. I
graduated in 1929 from Brea-Oiinda High School in the first class that had
gone through the whole four years. I was their songleader and their
pom-pom gal for three years, and active in drama and music. Then I went on
to Fullerton Junior College, and got my Associate of Arts degree in 1931.
After that I worked various jobs in Orange County. This year is the fiftieth
anniversary of my graduating class. A whole half century has passed and 1
still see some of those old classmates.
M: You mentioned the house that your family had, a house on the parksite.
Could you describe it?
P: Yes. It was a itt e cottage something like this little one I live in now in Costa
Mesa. We had a living room and a dining room kind of together. Perhaps it
would be twenty by twelve in total. We had a small kitchen and a little wash
porch which was very popular in those days--screened little wash porch that
we used for a ittle breakfast nook. We put our washing out of doors, which
in the early days of California was the thing, to have your washing machine
outside under a little shelter perhaps. In those days we had to go outside and
light a coil of pipes to heat the water. I don't know how that worked but
water ran through these coils, and then you 'Mluld put a big of
gas under these coils of pipe, and in no time you would have hot
water. We had. three bedrooms-they were about twelve by t\rvelve, small
bedrooms-and JUst one bathroom. The house faced Carbon Canyon Road.
When you got to the comer of our lot, you turned off Carbon Canyon Road
down this little access road to the school. Our double garage faced that
street. The garage was behind the house and it was on the little access road
going over to the schoolteachers' homes and the grammar school. It was a
little brown house with white trim, just a typical little California cottage.
And I remember we used to paint with some kind of a water-base paint.
Waterbase paints were very popular in those days. They were called
calcimine paints because everyone was kind of low on money, and not too
many varnishes were around, either. But this calcimine paint had pretty
colors, and spread very well to the wallboard. There were wood trims around
the windows and black screens on the windows, and those were always
painted with black enamel and the house was trimmed with white enamel. It
had a little porch in the front where you could sit with a few little chairs.
Daddy planted about a dozen trees but only three or four remain on the
uJH:anyon side. The old pepper trees remain there, and that's where we kept
the animals: the ducks, the chickens, the goats, and later after I left home, a
cow. And then he had some avocado trees in the back, and I don't recall any
fruit trees. I don't think the soil was really too good. It seemed to me that
the soil was always sort of adobe. I have read in history books how even in
the earty days, they would come and just cut out chunks of the soi I just
saturated with oil, so perhaps the soil wasn't too good. I know Father used
to have a bit of a garden, but it didn't seem like it was just that much of a
garden.
M: Now, could you describe the town of Olinda as you knew it as a young girl?
area called the Lower Santa Fe-and it was one of those houses on the lower
Santa Fe that Father purchased-then there was the Shell Oil Company
Lease. I think those were the major oil companies. And each oil company
furnished homes for the people that worked for them. The lea5'3s were some
distance away from each other, but we were all kids from Olinda.
M: Do you have any idea of the number of people who lived in
P: Hmmm, they were so scattered. There might have been 200 or 300 people
right around the main part of the village, which would include the Santa Fe
Lease, the Olinda Land Company Lease, and the Lower Santa Fe Lease. And
after you left the area of the Lower Santa Fe Lease where our home was,
there was another small lease going toward the canyon-beyond where the El
Rodeo Riding Club is now, in a clump of eucalyptus trees and approaching
the entrance to the canyon-with only about four or five houses, and the
Smiths lived there-Eldon Smith and his family-and the Frieley family and
the ' ea s; be that was the Shell Oil Company Lease, but I'm not
sure So nc uding them and the Olinda Land Company lease and the Santa
Lease there were perhaps as many as 200 people.
P:
Post cou d ou go into some detail about the schools in Olinda?
.. e .ac e

schoo
reco -
1909
don kno too much about the schools in Olinda. I'm always
ste - to eo at the annual picnics telling about the
- - rst schoo Olinda was way up on top of the
reca that the schoolhouse was there when I
-e otfie peop e you may have interviewed
e ear schools. At the annual
- a at of nformation about the early
- . ents at went there, because I think
e - ere :hat went to the first school. My
School wh"ch I believe was built in
tne morning, Mrs. Cooper or the
m us to get busy and get over to
ng. And then we would all line up
S e wou d pay a victrola record, and
_ as can remember it was Sousa's Stars and
- s iWOU d have us all stand erect and
classes. As we marched in and up the stairs
argc open area and the different
era --- e schoo house is now the semor Citizen
: rea are rea happy they preserved that. There
cs 9' here would go once a week and have
_ - the rec pes wa down so that we would just
:es a then Ne 'NOu'd be able to have a little
tea party when theca es es O' . _ atever we were doing, were done.
The auditorium was being bU g the went to school there. It
must have been being built in , 924. and 925 because in 1925, we were the
M:
P:
M:
P:
aduat
e from the new auditorium. It was always a big event
first class to gr 1
when the cowboys came, and Monty Montana, who was then a .smg e
used to come quite often out to school and entertain us. So 1t was a b1g
event to get everybody together and watch all the tr.icks that Monty
Montana would do with his horse. We would have plays, hnle school plays,
we had a little orchestra, and Betty Courtney-who was the only one whose
parents could afford to give any kind of dancing lessons to-would dance for
us. And 1 think today Betty has a dancing school but I'm not sure. Her
mother would play the piano and Betty would dance; she was very
young-she_ might have been five or six years old, but she danced and I think
she's still dancing today. She attends our picnic, and we have a great time
with Betty. The teachers lived in the little houses adjacent to the
school, and the custodian had a house there, too. The custodian was Mrs.
Junker, and she had three daughters and one son, and she was a widowed
woman who lived adjacent to the school. The teachers resided in three of the
other cottages that were built for them. I don't know who built the school;
perhaps it was the oil company, but I'm not sure. The creek ran behind the
school, and in the rainy season that was a fun place for the boys. They
would would go down and dam up the creek a little bit. But I can't recall
that any of the girts played in the creek. And in flood times, the boys wou \d
go down by the trestle, which was near the Reyes farm, and they would see
how much debris was stacking up against that little railroad trestle. That's
the same trestle I was telling you about that I was fearful of going over in the
handcar, because in floodtime the debris would build up against that little
trestle, and sometimes it wasn't in such good shape.
Could you tel me what kind of medical facilities they had in town?
I don't think an ever got sick. (laughter) I guess the neighbors just took
care of one another ed beside a familv who had some children and a
father that ere - theV used the county facilities, the Orange
Count\ Hosp ta ..... ::: s there were a couple of doctors that people
went to n Ana- e :. wo doctors in BreaDr. Jackson and one
other-and the, - house when you were ill. But I can't
recall anyone gett So guess we were raised out of doors and
we stayed qurte e sa heart patient and was critically ill for
many years, so .. e her who would come to the house.
But other than .. n cs tor the babies, or anything else
Could you go into so e aeta
washing?
ust seemed to stay well.
household life: cooking, shopping,
Oh yes. Cooking was on gas stoes e had all the gas we wanted to use. We
didn't have to worry abou - = _ cecause if you remember we paid the
rent according to the numoe - _ _ the house. So we could have all the
gas, and the women all coo _ gas. . can't recall anyone on any of the
leases cooking with wood l:)eea.se ere was such an ample supply of gas.
The omen did a lot of can _ becaUse those were the days of the deep
De :ssion. And during season .. ou d go to Chino to get the peaches; to
. . ve wa up to Beaumont, which was quite a
Hemet to get the dn y Y . for the apples. The housewives
"d tor the chernes; and go to ucalpa . . . d
mostly water bath method, putting the jars down_m a big boiler, an
timing it. Or they would can open-kettle; most apncots were canned
open-kettle. In those days when the women would can, they would put Cl
peach or apricot seed in each jar. I thought that was to enhance the flavor,
but 1 wonder. Today we know laetrile comes from the apricot pits,and so I
wonder if that soaked seed had any medical benefit. And we canned a lot of
tomatoes. And the German people, like the Schuberts, canned sauerkraut. If
you'd can fifty-two quarts of sauerkraut, that was only a quart of sauerkraut
per week, and for a German family that wouldn't be nearly enough. A family
of six or eight Germans kids could destroy three or four quarts of sauerkraut
with pork and weenies at one meal. We canned a lot of cucumbers, making
pickles, and we also made watermelon-rind pickles.
The washing was interesting, because some of the women didn't yet have
electric washing machines. They had washing machines that sat outdoors on
a wooden platform with a wooden handle that they could manually move
back and forth, which rotated the wash inside. And then some of the women
had husbands :-vho connected gas engines to these handles so they would
move But we had an electric Maytag, and we ran a long
extens1on w1re from one of those fixtures that were hanging, 1 think from
of the back be_drooms, and ran it out through the screen into the yard.
ItS a wonder we d1dn't get electrocuted. And from the back door usually
there was a wooden walkway made of boards. Nobody cou ld affo,rd
for sidewalks. The ground was as hard as a rock, and the ground was so poor
that it wouldn't raise grass very well. We didn' t have a lawn, so when we
cleaned the yard, we would just sweep the loose dirt off the yard, and we'd
have like a cement yard-the ground was that hard. We admi red people on
the Olinda Land Lease that had lawns. There were a few, and perhaps those
men were more farmers than my father. My father wasn't much of a farmer;
he was more a student, and wasn't very fond of farming. We would t ake the
rugs out and beat them on the lines, l ike the women in the eastern states.
But the general housecleaning was very different than in the East, sort of a
weekly sort of thing. There wasn't much furniture in the house; no one who
worked for the oil companies had very much. The superintendents always
had the nicest houses and furniture, and the workers just had the minimum.
Shopping was really a great event . We shopped at the general mercantile
store. You could run a monthly bill there, so you would get the necessary
things at the general mercantile. But the big shopping was, I think, Friday or
Saturday night. We would all drive to Anaheim where there was a big market
called the Pay and Take It, and just stock up. You could get enough
vegetables for fifteen cents to last a whole week. You would get a soup
bunch for five cents. You would get five bunches of carrots for a penny, and
tomatoes were two cents a pound. So everyone, if they didn't have thei r own
gardens, went in and got an ample supply of vegetables. And I can remember
getting peanut butter in the bu lk. You'd take a great big cardboard carton,
sort of like they put oysters in many years ago, with the juice and
everything. This little cardboard carton had a little wire handle. You would
scoop the peanut butter out of this big vat and fill it and weigh it in the
bulk. And we kids were raised on peanut butter and carrots. There was a
little neighborhood dairy on the Olinda land run by a Mr. Thomas and Mr.
Viets. Well, it was handy and it was nice. They furnished milk for the lease
people and they had their cows out in the pasture behind their house. But
people were poor and they couldn't affQrd much milk, and I don't recall ever
seeing more than two quarts of milk-for six of us-on our porch. So even
though my father was working a lot of the time for the oil company, people
just didn't have money to buy a lot of the things that they really needed.
Perhaps some of us didn't have such good teeth on account of not having
enough milk. We had a lot of fruit, and we had a lot of other good things,
but we didn't have a lot of milk. So when we get the goats, and later the
cow, that was a big help. But by that time the older ones of us had grown
up. But shopping was fun. We jogged along in the little Model T to Anaheim
once a week; 1 can't recall that we ever missed a week--it was a ride.
M: How did you store this food?
P: We had iceboxes. Usually in the summertime we put it out of doors, <?r most
often on the screened porch, because nearly all of these little cottages had a
screened porch. We had a giant icebox-- I suppose it would be worth three
hundred dollars today and it was solid oak. It would take seventy-five
pounds of ice. It was large! We had six in the family, so we needed to have
good space for ice. The iceman would come along and he would ask us how
many pounds we wanted, and then he would weigh it, chop it off his big
chunk and bring it in with the ice tongs and put it in out in the icebox. And
it was my job to watch that pan underneath to see that it didn't run over and
all through the screened porch. If it did, I would have the job of cleaning it
up. So we had to have a rather shallow pan, and rather large, because there
wasn't that much space underneath the icebox--for we needed all that area to
store food in. In some cases the ice was put on the side of the icebox, but
ours was an upper-load. You had a compartment up there for seventy-five
pounds, and then there would be kind of a little corrugated tin put at one
end, and you would put your milk against that, because that would be the
coldest spot. Our neighbor, the superintendent of the Olinda Land
Company, had the first electric refrigerator that I can recall. It had a great
big motor way up on the top. I think it was a General Electric or perhaps a
Frigidaire. I used to love to go over there, because they could just reach in
there and get ai.J that cold stuff. And the old iceboxes just didn't ice things
that cold. But it helped. Oh, then, I must tell you that many screened
porches had what they called a cooler, a comer of the screened porch that
was like a closet. The cooler had slats, and the cool air from underneath the
house would come up and keep the eggs cool. Then out-of-doors you might
have a screened cage like you'd keep a parrot in, and you'd put gunny sacks
all over the top of that. And then since water was free, you would just have a
pipe coming up and dripping water on that wet gunnysack, and you'd put
your watermelons, and your cantaloupe, and your peaches, and things in the
shade in that outdoor cooler.
M: How about meat? You mentioned the rabbit; did you raise chickens?
Yes we did. We always had chickens. And we had our _eggs. had
so,;e opossums that liked eggs, too. They would come and VIS_It ch1cken
yard and eat up some of the eggs we didn't get out at gathenng t1me. And
the snakes were around, too, and they like eggs. We had a lot of gophers; the
gopher holes were all over. And seeing water was free, we used to to
drown the gophers out. We would put a hose in a gopher hole let 1t run
for maybe three days and at no time would that hole ever fill up. The
gopher holes were maybe two miles long, but we tned to flood. them out. We
didn't seem to understand much about catching them With a trap _or
anything, although 1 think at a later time they did start to catch _them w1th
the traps. But we were flooding them out. So we had fresh ch1ckens. We
bought our beef, and had beef roasts. I know we had beef and pork roasts a
lot, so they must have been cooked rather quickl y after we went marketing.
I don't recall that chicken was any part icular specialty. It seems like the beef
roasts and the legs of pork were the enjoyable things.
M: Could you tell me a little more how the Depression affected Ol inda?
P: Well, most all the men were working, so the oil field business seemed to go
on. But perhaps they were low on money because they were sharing what
they had with those who were not working. Father worked all the time, but
we didn't seem to have any more money than anyone else. Of course, my
mother was quite ill, and I suppose it took a lot of money to pay the doctor
bills. But Father was always sharing whatever he had, so perhaps that's why
it seemed like we didn't have any more than the rest of them. Or it could
have been that the oil companies weren't paying that much, because even
when I was married I can remember our monthly income as bei ng one
hundred and seventy-five dollars a month working for the Union Oil
Company. And then it went one hundred and ninety-five, and then it went
on up-but that was a monthly income. So the income was low, I think. It
seemed like sugar might have been expensive or something, because the
women were canning without sugar. A lot of people in Brea must have been
out of work because they had community gardens, and the widows wou ld go
and work in the community gardens or in the large cannery. Perhaps there
were a lot of widows in town, and maybe that's why I noticed that . But they
would work in the commissary helping to can. They had a cannery i n
conjunction with the commissary. From this garden they wou ld bring in all
the fresh vegetables and the men that worked in the garden could get credit
and secure the vegetables for their family. We seemed to get along qui te well.
Perhaps we got along better than others. But we were aware there was never
too much money around. I think even in high school my weekly allowance
was ten cents a week. There just wasn't that much money in circulation.
The of 1933 was a serious t ime in our life, too, because Long
Beach wasn t that far away, and we had lots of tremors out in the canyon
and we kept our house doors ajar for many, many days, because we didn
want tO be caught in the house. However, I think that wasn't necessary
we were all in hame houses and they would move easier than the
--- - -, .. _ , n "d vv<:>uldn't cause us too much anxiety. 8ut
M:
P:
M:
P:
M:
P:
M:
P:
those were fearful times during the earthquake.
About the time of the 1939 flood, you were living in Los Angeles, weren't
you?
I was living in los Angeles, but my husband's uncle was in a rest home
somewhere near Richfield-which is all the same as the little town of
Atwood-and we went to visit him. And the river had broken through just a
few miles above, and we were helping to rescue those people. The water was
about a foot into those rooms in the hospital, and they were moving the
people out. So a lot of people lost their lives in the Mexican community, and
the bodies washed clear down into what is now La Palma Park. I think
several people were buried down that far. The water just kind of went
through the south end of Placentia and washed those people down into the
Anaheim area. The flood was a very devastating thing.
Could you give me your thought as to the demise of Olinda? What
happened?
As nearly as I can recall, it had to do with the oil industry. Maybe they didn't
need the production from that area, or perchance the oil field was getting so
old-it is one of the oldest oil fields in California, perhaps in the West. But
some of those oilmen could tell you better than I. It appeared the
ChanslorCanfield Midway Oil Company had greater workings and greater
f_ields in the Ventura area. Perhaps the oil was becoming depleted or maybe
the gravity of the oil wasn't what the market required, but it seemed that
they wanted to remove most of their employees to a more productive area,
and they began to do this. And I think at that time some of the men were of
the age where they were getting ready to retire, so they moved into either
Anaheim or into Brea. But I don't know what the specific cause was other
than that. 1 have the feeling that perhaps the field was too low to
that many workers. However, today there is still work there, anc:t there ms_ght
be as many as eight or ten employees so some of the wells are still producsng.
It was a gradual thing.
Yes, it was. They removed the people over a period of maybe five years. And
then many of the workers like Daddy Schubert, and Daddy Ben_nett, and
some of the men who had worked there for many years.were to the
age where they were getting near retirement. It would be mteresttng to know
what the real cause was. but the oilmen could tell you better.
Well
1
want to thank you very much, Mrs. Post, !or ?iving this this
ft
, y r memories of Olinda are very illumsnatng and snterestsng.
a ernoon. ou
I'm always very much interested in
Thank you. It been really .enjoyed the history of Orange
history. 1 was a hestorv maJO . Orange countY over fifty years ago,
County. And having had. my shortly after the turn of the century,
and then my relatives haveng come . having come before the turn of the
. ht say and then that one cousen
you mg ,
century, I've always felt like I'd like to research more and find out what my
distant relative, Marshall Williams, was doing up there in Williams Canyon.
So if you ever find out any more about Marshall Williams, be sure to let me
know.
M: I will do that. So on behalf of the California State University, Fullerton,
Oral History Program's 01 inda Community History Project. let me again
extend my thanks to you, Mrs. Post.
END OF INTERVIEW
Photo Credits
Emma Johnson Bennie
Daily Star-Progress
Jessie Isbell
Rick Patton
Eileen Pohl
Harold Van Patten
Lois Muzza\\ Smith
[.HEIR DREAMS COME TRUE
>touthearted Brethren of Anaheim Lodac
bright in their city - and they liked what
IC in the dark around them, they looked
Masons, the north is considered a place ul
. to a town named Fullerton and there
tg Fullerton from its darkness. The town
igbter, for as these great men were pillar11
eir community- and when their town w a . ~
Lodge adopt its name: Fullerton Lodge in
s a beacon of hope.
entury marked incredible accomplishment
,ushing a strong new Lodge, they built and
md for the betterment of their community.
a (now Harbor) in Fullertcln, their Light
'orba Linda in 1918, that that community
Masonry.
' it became necessary to secure larger and
pitating a two-year transitional period
1 facility was replaced with an impressive
then Spadra) in the City of Fullerton. The
luring the twenties, an energy manifesting
ithout the bounds of this city. It created
ag the scope of the Craft within the city.
Brethren of Fullerton then looked to the
''1\vin Lodges" of North Orange County,
and Soul, those stouthearted men from
!)lishments of their labors in North Orange
~ s a w .
Jood men and true" who brought us
s of Masons dancing to their tune.
l.M. - Octobez; 2000
-- .. -------.. ........ --
estate Office was the first new structure in a
or) and Commonwealth in 1887. It was the
ry 19, 1900 in the heme of E. K. Benc:hley
Fullerton. The first meeting of the Fullerton
I
teld here OD May 18, 1900, leading to tbe l,
Temple at Harbor and Amerige during 1900 .
.merige Park on Commonwealth in Fullerton,
........................................... -.. -......... ----- ... -:
First One Hundred Years
A History of Lodge No. 339, F.&. A. M.
Esperanza + Fullerton Gateway
Prepared by
Jack E. DotJota, Past Master
Fullerton Lodge No. 339 F. &. A.M.
1993 +1996
In memory of and for all
Brothers and FeUows who h a ~ gone this way before.
Ptepmd At the Rtquest of
George R. Boyd, Worshipful Master
Gateway Lodge No. 339, F.&. A. M.
During the One Hundredth Year of our Lodge
October, 200)
.MS COME TRUE
of Anaheim Lodao
::tty- and they liked whal
around them, they looked
:tb is Considered a place oJ
uned Fullerton and there
n its darkness. The town
;:se great men were pilllll'!l
and when their town wu.,.
name: Fullerton Lodge in
pe.
tcredible BCCOmplislunent
!lew Lodge, they built and
of their community.
m Fullerton, their Light
18, that that community
sary to secure larger and
ear transitional period
aced with an
e City of Fullerton. The
s, an energy IIWlifesting
of this city. It created
te Craft within the city.
rton then looked to the
Orange County,
itoutbearted men from
labors in Nortb Orange
' who brought us
tg to their tune.
0

th in 1887. It was the
Jme. of E. K. Benc:hlcy
Deetlog of the Fullerton
1900, leading to the !
I Alnerige during 1900. i
!lODWealth in Fullerton,
J
.................. -................ -........ :
First One Hundred Years
A History of Lodge No. 339, F. & A.M.
Esperanza + Fullerton Gateway
Prepared by
Jack E. Dotson, Past Master
Fullerton Lodge No. 339 F. & A M.
1993. 1996
In memory of and for all
Brothers and Fellows who have gone this way before.
Prepared At the Request of
George R. Boyd, Worshipful Master
Gateway Lodge No. 339, F. & A M.
During the One Hundredth Year of our Lodge
October, 2000
FutsT ONE HUNDilED YEARS- LODGE No. 339 F.& A.M.
a...._d Eastern Star members quickly joined forces with the "old timers" from
Fullerton, forming a responsive Adult AdviSOIY Board - which just keeps get-
ti%tg better. The current name of the Assembly- ''Fullerton/Yorba Linda,.-
Irl.irrors the legacy of this Assembly, a fitting atonement for the sorrowful
of the beloved Yorba Linda Assembly 259 in 1988.
Diamond Bar Assembly No. 267, now in its 24 .. year in Brea, has con-
tinuously been a strong force in that community, its members and advisors
having an exact blend of what it takes to make things work. The motif of the
Assembly embraces a concern for the wellbeing of not only its own mem-
bers, but also for those of the Orda wherever disbursed. This attribute was
appreciated by the people of Yorba Linda prior to the closing of Assembly
259, when Diamond Bar members and advisors often helped podge their
membership gap. Though the war was lost, the battles were valiant, thanks
to the dedicated support of Past Worthy Advisors and others of Diamond
Bar who stuck it out to the very end -their presence afforded a high degree
of comfort at a time when "comfort" was the only game in town!
Chapter 16
AzuRE - SECOND LODGE IN FULLERTON
The ending of World War I sparked a remarkable increase in Masonic
membership that continued well into the twenties. By 1922, membership in
Fullerton Lodge had increased to the point that the Grand Master recorn.
mended a second Lodge in the city, whereby fifteen Fullerton members met
011 April 26 for the purpose of fulfilling his recormnendation. Their first
step was choosing a name for the new Lodge, however, a meeting of minda
was not reached until during a meeting on May 24 when "Azure" was cho-
sen, whereupon preparation of their petition for a Dispensation was com
p1eted and forwarded to the Grand Master. During a meeting called for the
occasion on Juty2, 1922. Grand Master Samuel E. Burke (in the East), di
n:cted Inspector E. B. Trago to read the Dispensation, granted under date ot
July 6, 1922, to twenty-five petitioners and others there assembled. Tho
second Lodge to be instituted (thence constituted) in the city thus becamo
also the second offspring of Fullerton Lodge No. 339. 'The new Lodp,
chartered as Azure Lodge No. 533
1
in October 1922, first met in a small
auditorium in Lincoln School that was not ideally suitable. As membership
i11creased, the Lodge relocated to the Fullerton Masonic Hall on Harbor at
Cllapman, then to the Anaheim DeMolay Center in Anaheim. Consolidatiftt
with Anaheim Lodge No. 207 in 1998, Anaheim-Azure Lodge No. 207 con
tinues meeting in the DeMolay Center.
1
Appcndex/JIJ
FllST ONE HliNDRED YEARS- LoDGE No. 339 F.& A.M.
Chapter17
CITROL LODGE IN mE CITY OF BREA
On April 3, 1926, a group of five Master Masons met in Brea to consider
establishing a Lodge in their town - and establish they did! Lester
Lenunon, chatrman of the group, appointed a committee to investigate
mterest among other Masons in the area. As the group gained members it
became identified .as the M.asonic Club,., and as such, assisted
Grand Master Wtll H. F1scher m performing the Cornerstone Ceremony
when the "old" Brea Olinda High School was dedicated on October 2, 1926.
2. 1989, Citro) Lodge assisted Grand Master Sam M. Pav-
lovtch in the "new" Brea Olinda High School on Wildcat Way.)
Meeting weekly, the Club members began surveying various buildings in
search of a suitable place for a Lodge to meet, and on November 8, 1926,
voted to lease a portion of the Sewell building on Pomona A venue (now Brea
Leased as of December l, 1926, the Club suitably remodeled this fa-
cihty to serve as a meeting place, and later as their Lodge room until the
Temple on Imperial Highway was ready for occupancy nearly 29 later.
The members of the Brea Masonic Club petitioned the Grand Master for
to meet as a Masonic Lodge on February 12, 1927; the peti-
tion. was signed by twenty-five Master Masons, only five being members of
C_ahf?mia Lod:.ges. It was decided to name the new Lodge "Citrol" (a com-
b.matlon of "citrus" and "oil", the two main industries in the cormnunity)
smce they feared the name "Brea" might be confused with "LaBrea", then
the name of a Lodge near Los Angeles. The Dispensation. signed by Grand
Master George L. Jones and attested by Grand Secretary John Wieber, was
granted under date of February 26, 1927, and on March 4, Brother Henry
MacMaster, Inspector of the 97
6
District, read the Dispensation and insti-
tuted Citrol Lodge, UD. F.& A.M. Assisted by Brother William T. Rodger,
Past Master of Fullerton Lodge No. 339, the Inspector then installed the of-
ficers, Lester Lee Lennnon as Worshipful Master, George Wayne
Cullen as Semor Warden and Charles Edward Miller as Junior Warden. The
first Stated Meeting. of Citrol Lodge U.D. was held in the Sewell Building
on April I, dwing which 31 petitions for the Degrees and
28 apphcations for Affiliation were read! From this exceptional begirming
the Lodge grew steadily, and by 1931, more than 180 members were on th;
role. The Lodge was constituted as Citro) Lodge No. 656
1
, F.& A.M. by
virtue of its Charter under date of October 13, 1927.
. The _laying of the Citrol Masonic Hall took place
954 m With a Special Communication of the Grand Lodge - the
dmmg-room wmg was not completed tmtil after the first Stated Meeting in
the new Temple convened on November I, 1955. The building was free of
- -..... .. ........ _. ___ ---- --- ----- --.. -.. ....
<'ebt prior to occupancy owing to donated cash, material and labor
long _With successful fund-raising activities.
Lodge has continually been a pillar of strength in the Brea com-
the membership having including School Board officials, a Super-
of Schools, city government officials, police officers, firemen,
and numerous other creditable positions. In addition to their par-
lD Cornerstone Ceremonies for the two Brea Olinda High Schools
tte Lod ha sted '
. ge s asst Grand Lodge Cornerstone Ceremonies for the Fan-
Elementary CoWltry Hills Elementary School and the Brea
CtVJc _Center. C1trol Lodge further promoted their local cormnunity by
annual scholarships to graduating Brea Olinda High School seniors.
C1troJ and Fullerton Lodges consolidated as Gateway Lodge No. 339 on
Decem_ber 1, 1996, now meeting at 500 East Imperial Highway in Brea.
\7 orsh1pful Robert J. Nelson, Sr. was the final Master of Citrol Lodge.
I tppcndiliJHS
Chapter 18
LA HABRA LODGE, LEGACY OF ACCOMPLISHMENT
Nobody seems to know the origin or meaning of ''La Habra" but in 1925
aremarbbl '
e group of La Habra Masons established a meaning all their own
- accomplishment - the entitlement herein attached to the name of this
18. This group of 26 Masons first met in WiJJ Abrams" store in La
Eabra on July 29, 1925, and adopted the name "La Habra Masonic Club ...
) .fter electing William Abrams as president, they went to world A building
s te on La Habra Boulevard at Euclid Street was soon purchased on which
tle Club proceeded to construct a Temple. Members of the Club assisted
Master Will H. Fischer in laying the Cornerstone on January 8, 1927. The
lullding _ready for occupancy early that Jl.Dle, inunediately after which
tle. Club petitioned the Grand Master for a Dispensation to meet as Masons in
new Dispensation was granted on June 24, 1927. La Habra
odge U.D. was mstituted on July 6, 1927 and constituted as La Habra Lodge
:tfc:>. 659
1
on October 18, 1927- and ten days later, their Temple was dedicated
by Orand Master Gustav A. Hutaff during a Grand Lodge Ceremony.
After some fifty years, the Lodge had outgrown its beloved Temple. Its
at 1701 West La Habra Blvd. was dedicated by Grand Master
<maid G .. Ingalls during a Cornerstone Ceremony on September 1, 1979,
at'1d the original cornerstone was re-laid at the new Temple in tribute to the
:d. In December 1998, the Lodge consolidated with East Whittier Way-
;rer Lodge No. 726 as Cornerstone Lodge No. 659, now meeting in La
:a.bra. Worshipful Frank Heyer was the last Master of La Habra Lodge.
I .
.\ 'PPendixiH6
A-,.
FlRsr ONE HUNDRED YEARS- l.oooE No. 339 F.A A.M.
Chapter 19
THE IMPACT OF THE 1940s ON MASONRY
The 1940s experienced two startling. transitions: depression-to-war and
war-to-peace. As a result of the first, economic dqnasion dissolved (high
employment) and mental depression abated (higher income, patriotism). The
second transition replaced the anxieties of war with relief, contentment and an
aura of joy. America had carved freedom from chaos, and brotherhood devel-
oped among the peoples of the world. Masonic principles again prevailed in
America, and while population increased by an impressive 12.91'AI (17 million
new citizens), Masomy grew unbelievably by 48.3% (1.2 million new Ma-
sons), hence, Masomy grew nearly four times faster than did population! The
40s decade was indeed unique, and our Lodges of North Orange County be-
came beneficiaries of some twenty years of unparalleled growth during which
Masonic membership in America increased by 16?0/o. The first one hlmdred
years of our Lodge, paralleling the 20 Century, mirrors a collage of drasti-
cally changing conditions and attitudes in America, indeed, in the world.
Brotherly Love, Relief and Truth afford comfort in times of need and despera-
tion, but often go wanting during periods of unbridled prosperity.
During the 40s, the fortunes of Fullerton Lodge were consistent with
those of Masonry throughout the nation. Membership literally boomed, and
financial conditions had never been better. About 150 Brethren (including
our present-day Brother Preston Pyeatte) met with Master James Hawkins
for dinner in 1945 - a very special fund-raising dinner for the purpose of re-
tiring the mortgage on the building. Contributions that evening exceeded the
amount needed, and the Mortgage was cancelled on the spot - and for the
first time ever, the Mother Lodge of North Orange County was free of debt!
The honor of bwning the mortgage was delegated to Brother Willie Hale
1

the very fll'St member raised to the Sublime Degree of Master in the Lodge
(June 20, 1900). The room was deathly quiet as he unceremoniously lighted
the corner of the document with an old-fashioned kitchen match- but not for
long! And when the cheers and flames were spent, Brother Willie wryly ad-
vised the assembly: .. Never do it again"- and to this day, nobody has.
1
Raisina of Willie Hale/7
Chapter 20
THE TRANSITIONAL TIMES OF THE 50S
Membership increases in Masonry during the 40s carried into the SOs to an
all-time-high of about 4.1 million members in 1960 - l?.Y1 - the rate of
growth dropped from 48.3 o/o to 12.5%. This drastic rate reversal hardly
raised an eyebrow at the time, for after all, we were still growing, right?
The advent of the Korean War (but five years after WWll) was Wlset-
FIRST ONE HuNI>RED YEAU- loOOE No. 339 F.A AM.
Chapter 19
THE IMPACT OF THE 1940s ON MASONRY
The 1940s experienced two startling. transitions: depression-to-war and
war-to-peace. As a result of the first, economic depression dissolved (high
employment) and mental depression abated (higher income, patriotism). The
second transition replaced the anxieties of war with relief: contentment and an
aura of joy. America had carved freedom from chaos, and brothetbood devel-
oped among the peoples of the world. Masonic principles again prevailed in
America, and while population increased by an impressive 12.90/o (17 million
new citizens), Masonry grew tmbelievably by 48.3% (1.2 million new Ma-
sons), hence, Masomy grew nearly four times faster than did population! The
40s decade was indeed unique, and om Lodges of North Orange County be-
came beneficiaries of some twenty years of tDlparalleled growth during which
Masonic membership in America increased by 167%. The first one hundred
years of our Lodge, paralleling the 20 Century, mirrors a collage of drasti-
cally changing conditions and attitudes in America, indeed, in the world.
Brotherly Love, Relief and Tiuth afford comfort in times of need and despera- I j
tion, but often go wanting dwing periods ofWlbridled prosperity.
During the 40s, the fortunes of Fullerton Lodge were consistent with I
those of Masonry throughout the nation. Membership literally boomed, and
fmancial conditions had never been better. About 150 Brethren (including
)Uf present-day Brother Preston Pyeatte) met with Master James Hawkins
:or dim1er in 1945 - a very special fund-raising dinner for the pwpose of re-
:iring the mortgage on the building. Contributions that evening exceeded the
lmount needed, and the Mortgage was cancelled on the spot - and for the
1rst time ever, the Mother Lodge of North Orange County was free of debt!
me honor of bwning the mortgage was delegated to Brother Willie Hale
1
,
he very first member raised to the Sublime Degree of Master in the Lodge
June 20, 1900). The room was deathly quiet as he tmceremoniously lighted
he corner of the document with an old-fashioned kitchen match- but not for
ong! And when the cheers and flames were spent, Brother Willie wryly ad-
ised the assembly: "Never do it again"- and to this day, nobody has.
bising of Willie Halc/7
Chapter20
THE TR.ANSmONAL TIMES OF THE 50S
Membership increases in Masonry dwing the 40s carried into the 50s to an
11-time-high of about 4.1 million members in 1960 - 1m! - the rate of
rowth dropped from 48.3 % to 12.5%. This drastic rate reversal hardly
lised an eyebrow at the time, for after all, we were still growing, right?
The advent of the Korean War (but five years after WWll) was unset-
more and more repairs becoming ever more expensive, and inoome became
less and less - a domino effect personified. Late in the eighties, notice wa8
received that our Temple did not confonn to seismic and other city code11.
Lacking funds to gain conformance, the building faced condenmation, und
there was little choice but to close it down.
The 'Ninety Third installation of officers of Fullerton Lodge took place
on Decetnber 5, 1992 when Jack E. Dotson was installed Master, the la111
ever in a Temple in Fullerton. Brother David Gaelius was raised to the Suh-
lime Degree of Master Mason on December 8, 1992, the last degree ever to
be confeJTCd in a Temple in Fullerton. And on December 12, 1992, the an
nual christmas party was hosted for the kids of Fullerton Lodge, the last
ever in a Fullerton Temple. The Christmas tree remained in the East until
well after the holidays that year, it seemed nobody bad the heart to take it
down, this final vestige of what bad been: laughing children, squeals of joy.
the "Ho! Hoi Ho!" of Santa while opening his pack. That tree bas long since
faded awaY, but the memories will ever remain in the hearts of all who were
ever a part of that glorious Temple- on Haroor at Chapman - in Fullerton.
Chapter23
BACK TO THE SOURCE AND NORTH AGAIN
And so it was that Christmas-Time 1992 was also Moving-Time, as sev-
eral trucldoads of furniture and paraphernalia were transported to the Ana-
heim neMolay Center. and on January 5, 1993, after 93 years and for the
first time ever, Fullerton Lodge opened a Stated Meeting in a place other
than Fullerton. Although the roots of Fullerton Ma..conry were transplanted
from Anaheim in 1900, this trek was hardly a homeeoming. Oh, the facili-
ties were more than adequate (we even had the luxvy of an elevator), and
our co-occupants more than cooperative, but for 1he first time ever, the
Lodge was obliged to conform to schedules by others - like it or
not. At that time, the entire facility was undergoiJg major remodeling, a
new dining room being created across from the ballWLy serving as our tiler's
room, etc. And we shared one small closet- located at the other end of the
building- with our Job's Daughters and \Ulclaimed stuff from Lodges gone
by. Our Lodge last faced such conditions while neeting in the little red
schoolhouse in 1900, but nobody could remember wch as we first opened
Lodge in Anaheim! It all took some getting used o, but we survived and
adapted and soon began to get better control of om finances (the Fullerton
Temple building being sold, maintenance expenses became a thing of the
past). Bpt membership-drain persisted, particularlywith regard to officers,
some moving from the area while others simply dr>pped out. Late in our
second year away from Fullerton, unattractive opti01S were again develop
ing regarding our future - to relOOlte or consolidate,
D ..-"t') _
to th
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fDtST ONE HUNDRED YEARS- LODGE NO. JJ'J t .& 1\.M
Dialogs with our Brethren of La Habra led to the relocation of Fullerton
lo the La Habra Temple in December 1994, the rationale being for the two
l.odges to suppcrt one another regarding Officers (critical members of each
Lodge to affiliate with the other when needed). By late 1995, however, both
Lodges came to realize that such a plan was not working out, and it became
1hc consensus of the Fullerton Brethren that the Lodge should actively pur-
IUe the option of consolidating with another Lodge. The January 1995
Fullerton Trestleboard
1
gave such notice to the members.
Consolidation was the order of the year for Fullerton Lodge during
1995. A Steering Conunittee was appointed for the purpose of surveying
and meeting with Lodges in the area, seeking those on sound footing in our
areas of need and vice versa. A meeting of minds between Fullerton Lodge
No. 339 and Citrol Lodge No. 656 ultimately led to favorable ballots in ex-
cess of 75% by the members of both Lodges
1
, and the Grand Master ap-
proved the Consolidation. Jack E. Dotson was the last Master of Fullerton
Lodge as he was also the last installed in the Fullerton Temple in 1993.
1
.o\ppcndix/K. 2Appendix/L
Chapter24
GATEWAY LoDGE No. 339- FIRST FOUR YEARS
The first Stated Meeting of Gateway Lodge No. 339 convened on Decem-
ber 1, 1996 in the Brea Masonic Temple, the officers being seated according
to appointments in the Consolidation Certificate. Worshipful Richard Mal-
lard was installed Master along with the other officers on January 11, 1997.
The first year brought significant improvement in attendance - especially
regarding veteran members returning to the fold - and an increase in affilia-
tions and degree work. Past Masters occupying the several chairs leading to
the East, however, signaled an impending shortage of principle officers.
Past Masters David R Alexander, Jeffi'ey Hornsby and George R Boyd
were installed Master and Wardens for 1998, during which Brothers Victor
Asfour and Raymond Ribal served as Deacons- hope for the future.
Past Masters Jeffi-ey Hornsby and George R. Boyd were installed in the
East and West for 1999, along with Brother Victor Asfour in the South, and
Brothers Raymond Ribal and Andrew Skaggs as Deacons.
Past Master George R. Boyd now serves the Lodge as Master, one hlDl-
dred years after Worshipful William M. McFadden in 1900. These writings
soon will humbly rest between these "Centennial Bookend Masters" amid
t!Ountless others of North Orange Cotmty Masonic History. During 2001, the
Master's gavel will be wielded by Brother Victor Asfom, the last Master Ma-
>n raised to the Sublime Degree of Master Mason in Fullerton Lodge, who
Nill thus become the firSt Master to serve Lodge No. 339 during its Second
:>ne Hundred Years! May God Bless and support him along his way.
Appendix H- Circa 1930 Orange County Bulletin
Landreth, Charles C. Clark, Homer A. DeLaney, Luther L. Tarmar, Orner G.
Evans, William R. Boatman, Charles F. Horton, Albert J. Severson, Arthur
Van Kauble, Daniel L. Newton, Thomas D. Robertson, Archie J. Collins,
Otto L. Price, Harry Ames and M. S. Ryan (who) presented the hmer Cham-
ber Pillars, St. Clair Woods, our first Bible. Later we received a very beauti-
ful gift of a leather covered, richly bound Bible, November 29, 1924, from
Edward Marion of Anaheim Lodge No. 207. Harry Ames also presented the
Tyler"s sword; J. H. Cockerham presented the silk hat worn by the Master.
The Master's gavel, presented by Brother C. C. Violett, has the distinction, as
reported, of being taken from a tree grown in George Washingtons yard in
Mt. Vernon. The tree was planted by LaFayette when visiting this country.
The place of meeting in the Lincoln school was the auditorium used by
school officials. Neither the arrangement nor lighting was very beneficial,
nor appropriate for our Lodge services, but the spirit of the officers and
members was such that neither lighting or arrangement had much effect upon
their ardor and zeal.
Our Junior Warden, Travis Anderson, somehow was always successful
in presenting the Lodge and its guests with refreshments, which were pleas-
ing and appetizing. He was much handicapped as he had no kitchen in which
to make preparation. His obligation was always well filled, and presented his
part of the program very efficiently. Two years were spent in the school
building, and finally arrangements were made for a hall room in the Price
building, where we are now located.
The Lodge has grown to 112 members, and the spirit that is now ex-
pressed, guarantees a successful continuation of brotherly love and affection.
Where an expression of true Masonry is presented you will always find men
of true Masonic spirit assembling together. The Lodge is now governed by
Worshipful Master, Ernest Littlejohn. The membership wishes to thank the
Lodges and individuals, who assisted in furnishing the first lodge room.
These gifts were much appreciated, and although the Brethren assisted in
material things, contacts were made that will never be forgotten.
Trustees appointed by Inspector Trago, while under the dispensation
were:- J. M. Woodworth, E. H. Darling and John A. McCullough.
The late J. M. Woodworth was a great asset to the Lodge, and assisted
very much in its successful operation. Much time and patience was contrib-
uted by him, and the experiences of his years in other Lodges, was indeed a
material help to our ultimate success.
Charter members were:- James Allen Knapp, Edward Hiram Darling,
Clarence Travis Anderson, Frank Austin Monroe, St. Clair Woods, Wm. T.
Lambert, J. D. Price, James Henderson Cockerham, James Hammontee,
Moses Swan Ryan, Wiley-Burgey Hale, Jerome Merrill Woodworth, Jolm
Adam McColough, John Charles Mitchell, Richard Raster, Harry Ames,
Walter Porter, Charles C. Violett, Palmer N. Larson, R L. Coats (deceased)
Frederick Hosias Felberg, B. R. Day, David G. Ashby, R. D. Lippencot.
n
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1.&- .&JJV "a ..... 'tWV .... _ __....,.,._
First officers were-J. A. Knapp, Worshipful Master; E. H. Darling, Sen-
or Warden; Travis Anderson, Junior Warden, F. A. Monroe, Treasurer; St
:t&ir Woods, Secretary; Riclwd Haster, S.D.; John C. Mitchell, Junior Dea-
IOn; M. S. Ryan, Senior Steward; B. R. Day, Junior Steward: James
fammontree, Tyler; J. D. Price, Chaplain; W. D. Hale, Marshal.
Past Masters:- J. A Knapp, E. H. Darling, Richard Haster, John C Mitchell,
', H. Cockmbam, A. J. Woodwottb. James Hammontree, Ernest Littlejohn.
Officers serving during 1931 are:- Ernest Littlejohn, Worshipful Master;
.. eland Mitchell, Senior Warden; Brinton Hale, Junior Warden; F. A.
Treasurer; L. L. Trickey, Secretary; James S. Hammontree, Chap-
tin: Grant Fergus, Senior Deacon; Chas. G. Munz, Junior Deacon; Stanley
l. Anderson, Marshal; Albert Nearing, Senior Steward; Ralph G. Smith,
funior Steward; Wm. Veirs Brady, Organist; James Cockerham, Tyler.
[\1- Cltrol Lodge No. 656, F. & A. M. (in Brea) \
April 3, 1926, the first meeting was held in the Brown Building in Brea, l1
to consider the advisability of instituting a Masonic Lodge in Brea. L L.
l.emmon was elected chainnan, and C. C. Kinsler, Secretary. A committee
btsisting of J. H. Robinson, Albert Boyd and R. E. Critchlow was appointed I
!0 visit the Masons in Brea and vicinity with the idea of ascertaining the 1
1
1
lUmber willing to affiliate with the proposed new Lodge. The next meeting
"'&s set for April 8, but was postponed on account of fire at the Union Oil
Company's Stewart Tank Farm. and was held April IS, 1926.
Meetings were conducted weekly and various locations and buildings I\
:liscussed as a suitable place for a Masonic Lodge Room. November 8, 1926
lt was voted to rent a part of the Sewell building on Pomona A venue, and
hake the changes necessary for confonnation to Masonic requirements. The
ease on the building dated from December 1, 1926. Members of the Brea
dasonic Club assisted Deputy Grand Master Will Fischer, in the laying of \.
he Cornerstone at the new Brea.Olinda High School on October 2, 1926.
:'be name Citro} was chosen for the Lodge on acc01mt of the name "Brea''
eing too much like the name ''LaBrea" already held by a Lodge near Los 1
Ulgeles. The petition for Dispensation was mailed to Grand Master Jones on
1
\
'ebruary 12, 1927. It was signed by 25 Master Masons. Of this number, 5
'ere members in California and 20 were from other states.
The Dispensation was granted and on March 4, 1927, Bro. Hemy
facMaster, Inspector of the 97* District, assisted by Bro. Wm. T. Rodger,
the Dispensation and installed the following officers: Lester Lee Lem-
ton, Worshipful Master; Geo. Wayne Cullen, Senior Warden; Charles Ed-
ard Miller, Junior Warden; Alonzo Hiram Brown. Treasurer; Charles C.
insler, Secretary; Hugh Rbonald Williams, Senior Deacon; Lynn A. Hohue,
tnior Deacon; Monte Cristo Fiscus, Marshal; W. Judson Oldfield, Chaplain;
obert E. Critchlow, Senior Steward; Frank T. Lane, Junior Steward;
-edrick George Boxall, Tyler. Citrol Lodge, U.D. was then opened in due
HS
..
..
,.
(
~
::::
Appendix H- Circa 1930 Orange County Bulletin
form. At this meeting there were 28 applications for Affiliation and 31 Peti-
tions for the Degrees. From this beginning the Lodge has steadily grown un-
til at present there are over 180 members.
V- La Habra Lodge No. 659, F. & A. M.
All Orange County Masons and especially La Habra Brethren, are justly
' proud of the exceptional achievement and very rare occurrence of a loyal,
energetic group of Masons forming a Masonic Club, building. a beautiful
1
Temple in La Habra, and then petitioning the Grand Lodge for Dispensation
to Institute a "just and regular Masonic Lodge." The La Habra Masonic
Club, organized July 29, 1925, participated in the placement of the La Habra
Masonic Temple Cornerstone (in this building with the) participation of
Grand Master Will H. Fischer. The Temple was completed and ready for
occupancy the early part of Jtme, 1927, and the Petition for Dispensation was
granted June 24, 1927. The Lodge was Instituted July 6, 1927, Charter
granted October 13, 1927, and Constituted October 18, 1927.
The Temple was Dedicated by Grand Master Gustav A Hutaff, October
28, 1927. The first meeting of La Habra Masonic Club was held in William
Abrams store, July 29. 1925. Officers elected were F. D. Halrn, President;
Wiiliam Abrams, Vice President; Francis Rockwell, Secretary; R. M. Evans,
Treasurer. Henri Clayton acted as Secretary pro tern, and there were present
46 Masons. The Lodge now bas a membership of 135. Charter Members
were:- William Abrams, Gumard Clair Beer, Gordon M. Cameron, Daniel
Levi Chipman, Charles LeRoy Crumine, Benjamin Davies, Henry Carl
Dohrmann, Roy Martin Evans, Walter Coney Fairweather, Raymond F.
Frantz, Clint Richard Guthrie, Henry Eldridge Hart, Edward L. Jownigan,
Rollie William Koontz, Thomas MacKenzie Lawson, Walter Albany Lins-
dell, Roy Nickell, Claude Arthur Ridgway, Ulysses Grant Sherman, William
Campbell Stark, Charles Edward Trent, Robert W. Vanderhoof, Ivan James
Wagner, James Henry Walker, BurtS. Williams.
First Officers were:- Walter Albany Linsdell, Worshipful Master;
Gordon McKnight Cameron, Senior Warden; Claude Arthur Ridgeway, Jun-
ior Warden; James Henry Walker, Treasurer; Rollie William Koontz, Chap-
lain; Henry Carl Dohrmann, Senior Deacon; Roy Martin Evans, Junior Dea-
con; Chas. Edward Trent, Marshal; Roy Nickell, Senior Steward; Walter Cor-
rey Fairweather, Junior Steward; Ulysses Grant Sherman, Tyler.
Officers for 1931 are:- Harten Hodges, Worshipful Master; William
Weaver, Senior Warden; George Eaby, Junior Warden; Gordon M. Cameron,
Treasurer; A. J. Young, Secretary; Ed Klusman, Chaplain; Homer C. Haltz-
graf, Senior Deacon; Charles T. Miller, Junior Deacon; Grant Sherman, Mar-
shal; P. H. Goodell, Senior Steward; George Armstrong, Junior Deacon; W.
M. Stanley, Tyler; Frank Barrows, Organist.
[Note: The above are verbatim transcripts, including grammar and punctuation.]
TJ'.C
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Master's Consolidation Message
As this new term commences - the ninety-sixth year of Fullerton Lodge - I
wish to express my heartfelt appreciation for the confidence placed in me by
the Bretlu"en in selecting me to again serve as Master. Two major changes
have occmred since I first greeted you as Master three years ago -
bappenings which seem to have greatly impacted our performance in this
p-eat Masonic Brotherhood of the world.
Beginning in January 1993, for the first time in 73 years, we held Lodge in
a venue other than that at Harbor and Chapman in Fullerton (theretofore at
Harbor and Amerige) - we relocated to the DeMo lay Center in Anaheim.
tin December, 1994 we moved on to La Habra Masonic Temple, and we
now share their facility with La Habra Lodge No. 659.
We have thus been blessed with two fme homes "away from home" and have
been privileged to share Masonry with several other great Lodges. However,
it appears that Fullerton, the Mother Lodge of North Orange County, is
homesick - longing for the independence and confidence that nearly a
oentwy had wrought in houses made by the hands of Fullerton Masons.
LJving with "friends and relatives'' doesn't seem to be hacking it, and
although nothing has yet been cast in concrete, the process has been initiated
for Fullerton to merge or consolidate with another Lodge - future issues of
the Trestleboard will keep you posted. Our problem stems from a shortage
of active Brethren - those who have the interest and time to participate in the
business of Masonry - the ritual. The very structure of our Fraternity
mandates that those who would serve as Master - or any other office - need
first learn, practice, and apply its teachings - its ritual. This is really all that
matters - it's as simple as that But even simplicity falters when
fundamentals are lacking, and wtfortunately for our beloved Fullerton Lodge,
such seems now the case. But for rain, the creek runs dry - but for love,
society fails - for lack of a steady stream of participation, any Lodge will
surely see its day, and such indeed is close at hand for Fullerton.
{This transcript is from the Ja"uary 1996 Trestleboard of Fullerton Lodge No. 339
and announces the begirming of the OJnsolidation procedure by Fullerton - written
by Jack E. Dotson, last Fullerton Master.]
Jl
Appendix L- A Century of Past Masters
Fullerton Lodge (continued)
1927 A. M. Thompson
1928 Harold E. Hale
1929 S. J, Lewis
1930 L. Fi."
1931 :p. E. Fickel
1932 Arch M. Edwards
1933 W.
1934 W. C. Standford
J. H. Gi1tz
1936 . C. G. Hoff/W. F. Avery
193 7 Earl Snyder
1938 A. I. Edwards
1939 J. G. Triplett
1940 Foster E. Chambers
1941 Norman A. Foster
1942 Lucien Canda
1943 Archie D. flawkins
1944 Lee D. Myers
1945 James D. Hawkins
1946 v. Maloolm Parker
1947 L.
1948 William. L. Currie
1949 J. 0. Rayne
1950 Phillip H. Lippiatt
1951 Clarence E. Miller
1952 Albert S. Murray
1953 Alfred W. Moffett
1954 Lisle M. Wrote
G. W.
1956 Carl F. Burnett
1957 Ralph B: PeaSe
1958 w. a.
1959 Merril p.
1960 J:Iarold W. Ensign
1961 Merril D.
1962 J. B. Hanke, Jr.
1963 Loy Moore
Citrol Lodge No. 656
Lester L. Lemon
w Cullen'
Charles E. Miller
v !
Robert E. Critchlow
Hugh H. Jones
Charles A. Sullivan
LeSter Todd
George Friend

William Conley
D. W. Goodwin
A. A. Price
J, W. Van Ness
A. E. Branch
R W.Monroe
Emil Carlson
Harry F. VeDe1
Harry L. Hyde
Herbert Barlow
Wilfred L. Schryer
F. F. Finch
Samuel Dennis
A. 0. Johnson
NealL. Hood
Carl Goll!Neal Hood
Vincent I aster
Kenneth R Welles
Nonnan LeRoy
Harold Freiley
Claude Williamson
George E. Cook
Elmer Edwards
Marlon Titcomb
Ffank Blystone
Malcom B. McQueen
Phil Campbell
Donald Lacy
Appendix L- A Century of Past Masters
A Century of Past Masters
Lodge No. 339 Lodge No. 656
(Esperanza/Fullerton) (Citrol)
Gateway Lodge No. 339
Esperanza Lodge No. 339
1900 William M. McFadden
1901 George C. Clark
1902 James F. Davis
1903 James F. Davis
Fullerton Lodge No. 339
1904 Arthur Staley
1905 M. M. Good
1906 R. E. Holloway
1907 R E. Holloway
1908 C. F. McFadden
1909 C. George Porter
1910 Charles E. Ruddock
1911 J. R. Gardiner
1912 J. R. Gardiner
1913 A. E. Griffin
1914 A. E. Griffm
1915 C. R. Allen
Affdiated Past Masters
They also served
Fullerton Lodge No. 339
EdDix
Robert Paquette
Lynn C. Shenill
Citrol Lodge No. 656
Ralph M. Fellows
Ernest Gardner
Donald A Muller
Gateway Lodge No. 339
Jeffrey Bayer
Phil Bovee
Frank F. Heyer
1916 C. Stanley C h a p m a n ~
1917 A. G. Miller
Hal Newcomer
Dwayne C. Wright
1918 J. A. Green
1919 R. J. McKee
1920 P. C. Woodward
1921 C. W. Reeve
1922 W. A. Goodwin
1923 H. G. Meiser
1924 H. C. McMaster
1925 J. H. Lang
1926 W. T. Rodger
The Buck Stops Here!
Harry Truman should know; he was
Master of his Lodge, Grand Master
of Missouri and President. The men
here listed have all faced the ''Buck''
'
decisions of which way or how far
to go. Lacking a crystal ball, we can't
always tell what's right, but decide we
must- for the Buck waits for no one!
Appendix L- A Century of Past Masters
A Century of Past Masters
Lodge No. 339 Lodge No. 656
(Esperanza/Fullerton) (Citrol)
Gateway Lodge No. 339
Esperanza Lodge No. 339
1900 William M. Mcfadden
1901 George C. Clark
1902 James F. Davis
1903 James F. Davis
Fullerton Lodge No. 339
1904 Arthur Staley
1905 M. M. Good
1906 R. E. Holloway
1907 R. E. Holloway
1908 C. F. McFadden
1909 C. George Porter
1910 Charles E. Ruddock
1911 J. R. Gardiner
1912 J. R. Gardiner
1913 A. E. Griffin
1914 A. E. Griffin
1915 C. R. Allen
Affiliated Past Masters
They also served
Fullerton Lodge No. 339
EdDix
Robert Paquette
Lynn C. Sherrill
Citrol Lodge No. 656
Ralph M. Fellows
Ernest Gardner
Donald A. Muller
Gateway Lodge No. 339
Jeffrey Bayer
Phil Bovee
Frank F. Heyer
1916 C. Stanley Chapman"
1917 A. G. Miller
Hal Newcomer
Dwayne C. Wright
1918 J. A. Green
1919 R. J. McKee
1920 P. C. Woodward
1921 C. W. Reeve
1922 W. A. Goodwin
1923 H. G. Meiser
1924 H. C. McMaster
1925 J. H. Lang
1926 W. T. Rodger
The Buck Stops Here!
Harry Triunan should know; he was
Master of his Lodge, Grand Master
of Missouri and President. The men
here listed have all faced the ''Bucl('
decisions of which way or how f ~
to go. Lacking a crystal ball, we can't
always tell what's right, but decide we
must- for the Buck Waits for no one!
Appendix L -A Century of Past Masters
Fullerton Lodge (continued)
1927 A. M. Thompson
1928 Harold E. Hale
1929 s. J,
1930 L. H. Marshall
1931 D. B.
1932 Arch M. Edwards
1933 J. W. Ritteibllsch
1934 W. C. Standford
1935 J. H. GiftZ
1936 C. G. Hoff/W. F. Avery
193 7 Earl Snyder
1938 A. J. Edwards
1939 I. G. Triplett
1940 Foster E. Chambers
1941 Norman A. Foster
1942 Lucien Canda
1943 Archie D. Hawkins
1944 Lee n. Myers
1945 James D. Hawkins
1946 V. Malcobii Parker
1947 L. W. Sherwood
1948 William. L. Currie
1949 J. Rayne
1950 Phillip H. Lippiatt
1951 Clarence E. Miller
1952 Albert S. Murray
1953 Alfred W. Moffett
1954 Lisle M. White
1955 G. W.
1956 Carl F. Burnett
1957 Ralph B. Pease
1958 W. B. Danenhauer
1959 Merril p.,;v antuy1
1960 Harold W. Ensign
1961 Merril D. Vantuyl
1962 I. B. Hanke, Jr.
1963 Loy Moore
Citrol Lodge No. 656
Lester L. Lemon
w. euttetr
B. Miller
Robert E. Critchlow
Hugh H.
Charles A. Sullivan
Lester Todd
George Friend
HenryRudd
William Conley
D. W. Goodwin
A. A. Price
J. W. Van Ness
A. E. Branch
R W.Monroe
Emil Carlson
Harry F. VeDel
Harry L. Hyde
HerbCrt Barlow
Wilfred L. Schryer
F. F. Finch
Samuel Dermis
A. 0. Johnson
NealL. Hood
Carl Goll!Nea1 Hood
Vincent Jaster
Kenneth R Welles
Norman LeRoy
Harold Freiley
Claude Williamson
George E. Cook
Elmer Edwards
Marlon Titcomb
Frank Blystone
Malcom B. McQueen
Phil Campbell
Donald Lacy
Appendix L- A Century of Past Masters
Fullerton Lodge (continued) Citrol Lodge (continued)
1964 Gervis King Harry F. VeDel
1965 Alex Grattan Raymond Griffin
1966 William F. Wall Raymond Griffin
1967 Lawrence G. Lindsey Reineke
1968 qt:2!,f?_e ...,A.. "Yhiteside Al McBride
1969 Thonil .c. G1lland Robert Skiles
1970 Richard F. Pearce Carl Harvey
1971 Eari Medoff
1972 David R. Alexander Floyd Cary
1973 Raymond F. Lamb Richard Baugh
1974 John G. Renner Jack Smith
197 5 Phil pavis George Miller
1976 Maurice L. Brubaker Robert Cunningham
1977 James Thompson John Hutcherson
1978 Herschel Lakes Ken Reed
1979 Robert Casper Dan Kushmak
1980 Larry Morris Ronald C. Miller
1981 Fredric Lehr Roy Denson
1982 Dennis Bagger Jack E. Doug!lty
1983 J. B. Hanke, Jr Lionel Kilburn
1984 George R. Boyd John Hutcherson
1985 iGrk Johnson Roger McBride
1986 David J. Alexander James A. Guilford
1987 Randa!l P: Stange Ronnald Wilson
1988 Amaldo 0. Gomez Jack E. Doughty
1989 Fredric Lehr Roger McBride
1990 Terry W. Certain Roger McBride
1991 AithonyG. Murphy Lionel :Kilburn
1992 Walter N. Wagner James S. Burbidge
\993 Jack E. Dotson Richard Jeanson
1994 Jefli'ey G. Dotson Jeffery Hornsby
1995 Jefli'ey G. Dotson Gene E. Monroe
1996 Jack E. Dotson Robert Nelson
Gateway Lodge No. 339
1997 Richard Mallard
1998 David R. Alexander
1999 Jeffery Hornsby
2000 George Boyd
Appendix L-A Century of Past Masters
Fullerton Lodge (continued) Citrol Lodge (continued)
1964 Gervis King Harry F. VeDel
1965 Alex Grattan Griffin
1966 William F. Wall Raymond Griffin
1967 Lawrence G. LindSey William Reineke
1968 George A. whiteside AI McBride
1969 Thofal B. Gilland Robert Skiles
1970 Richard F. Pearce Carl Harvey
1971 Earl Medoff
1972 David R. Alexander Floyd Cary
1973 F. Lanib Richard Baugh
1974 John G. Renner Jack Smith
1975 Phil Davis George Miller
1976 Maurice L. Brubaker Robert Cunningham
1977 James Thompson John Hutcherson
1978 Herschel Lakes Ken Reed
1979 Robert Casper Dan Kusbmak
1980 Larry Morris Ronald C. Miller
1981 Fredric Lehr Roy Denson
1982 Dennis Bagger Jack E. Doughty
1983 J. B. Hanke, Jr Lionel Kilburn
1984 George R. Boyd John Hutcherson
1985 kirk Johnson Roger McBride
1986 David J. Alexander James A. Guilford
1987 RmidaJ} Stange Ronnald
1988 Amaldo 0. Gomez Jack E. Doughty
1989 Fredric Lehr Roger McBride
1990 Terry W. Certain Roger McBride
1991 Anthony ct Murj,hy Lionel Kilburn
1992 Walter N. Wagner James S. Burbidge
1993 Jack E. Dotson Richard Jeanson
i994 Jeffrey G. Dotson Jeffery Hornsby
1995 Jeffrey G. Dotson Gene E. Monroe
1996 Jack E. Dotson Robert Nelson
Gateway Lodge No. 339
1997 Richard Mallard
1998 David R. Alexander
1999 Jeffery Hornsby
2000 George Boyd
First One Hundred Years
A History of Lodge No. 339, F. & A. M.
Esperanza + Fullerton Gateway
Prepared by
Jack E. Dotson, Past Master
Fullenon Lodge No. 339 F. &. A M.
1993. 1996
In memory of and for all
Brothers and Fellows who have gone this way before.
Prepared Ar. the Request of
George R. Boyd, Worshipful Master
Gateway Lodge No. 339, F. &A.M.
During the One Hundredth Year of our Lodge
October, 2000