1923:The Coastside Lost a Friend in the Great Kanto Quake

Story by June Morrall

Annie C. Mullen was a little girl when she lived through the 1906 San Francisco earthquake and fire.

In Half Moon Bay boulders tumbled onto Highway 92 and the Levy Brothers General Store collapsed.

“A bull in a china shop shop would be a fair comparison of what can happen in a printing shop when an earthquake is turned loose within,” a Redwood City newspaper wrote of damage to its office.

Annie Mullen was familiar with the Coastside and Redwood City. Her father, John Mullen, an early settler in east Miramar, later became a county assessor.

When the great Kanto earthquake struck Japan in 1923, Annie had been in Japan, working as a secretary for General Elecric in Tokyo for five years.

It was 11:50 a.m. on Saturday, September 1, 1923, when Japan was rocked with the “impact of a terrestrial fist.”

Our 15-second quake in 1989 made Bay Area residents re-examine accounts of the 1906 earthquake. Estimates on how many died in the 1906 earthquake vary between 700 and 2,500.

Few Americans know about the great Kanto earthquake of 1923. Incredibly, 120,000 people were killed. There were major shocks over a period of hours followed by tidal waves and firestorms. Messages told of mountains that slid into the valleys, of waves that swept hundreds of swimmers into the sea and of a Yokohama hotel that “sank into the earth.” Street lights in crowded Tokyo teetered, the earth moved up and down, and buildings swayed like “so much paper.”

The so-called “Cloud Scraper,” the tallest building in Toyko at 12-stories, snapped in two at the eighth floor. Bricks and stones toppled down onto scurrying pedestrians.

For two days fires raged, greedily consuming flimsy wooden structures. Burn victims died in the streets. Automobile traffic was frozen and trains were halted 100 miles from Tokyo. Telegraph lines were down and cables disrupted. An important cable between Guam and Yokohama had been silenced.

Yokohama, where Annie Mullen lived, along with about 1,000 other Americans, was a significant port city. It had been hard hit, and in the wake of the earthquake, the city was ablaze with a tidal wave that brought more devastation. The busy harbor lay in ruins. The refugees were so desperate that they sought safety aboard ships in the harbor.

Meanwhile, the former Coastsider, John Mullen, was frantically trying to confirm the whereabouts of his daughter. Then 84, Mullen was living on Fell Street in San Francisco where two of his sons lived.

On September 4, the Redwood City Tribune reported:”…Friends…are apprehensive today concerning that young woman’s safety…No word has been obtained by relatives in San Francisco from Miaa Mullen.”

Many old-time Coastsiders counted among those who worried about Annie. At one time the Mullen name was so well known in Half Moon Bay that serious consideration had been given to officially changing the name of the Arroyo de en Medio Creek in Miramar to “Mullen’s Creek.” It was often called that by the locals anyway.

Joan and Ann Mullen immigrated directly from Ireland, settling in Miramar in 1869. Mullen, who spoke and taught Gaelic, was hired to run Amesport Landing at present day Miramar.

The wharf had been built by a San Mateo County supervisor in 1868. It ir rumored that in partial payment for his services, John Mullen was given land in East Miramar to build his farmhouse.

The historic Mullen Farmhouse stands on tree-lined Purissima Way, a county lane that still has the power to transport visitors back in time.

From the top floor of the farmhouse, John Mullen enjoyed a bird’s eye view of Amesport Landing, which grew into a tiny community,. The wharf was a commercial link with the outside world. Produce was shipped on the little steamers: Gypsy, Salinas, and Vicente packed with crucial supplies of coal to heat to heat chilly Coastside homes.

From 1860 to about 1890, John Mullen, assisted by son William, managed Amesport Landing. When the Ocean Shore Railroad came on the scene circa 1907-8, Amesport had already slipped into a steep decline. Amesport was never able to compete with either the railroad or the new “private vehicles on wheels,” and the little shipping village never recovered.

Eventually John Mullen and some members of his family moved to Redwood City and later to San Francisco.

Annie Mullen grew up with three brothers and two sisters: Hugh, Edward, William, Clara and Minnie. Until Clara’s death in 1958, she lived in the farmhouse, built by her father.

Records reveal that Annie went to Japan in 1918. She last visited San Francisco in 1922, while enjoying a week’s furlough. She was to have spent one more year in Japan before returning to the United States permanently.

On September 5, 1923, U.S. Ambassador Woods sent a message from Japan by wireless pointing out that the situation was “exceedingly serious” in Yokohama, where he said many Americans perished. It was reported that Yokohama’s streets and canals were filled with dead bodies.

But Ambassador Woods had no word of Annie Mullen. There was great concern because the office in which she worked was said to be located in the heart of the devastated area of Tokyo.

Fears intensified when one of the casualties was identified as A.T. Blume, who also worked for General Electric. Others, including officials of the company, also died in the earthquake. Names of those who were killed in Yokohama and Tokyo were printed in local newspapers—but Annie’s name was not found among them.

The Mullen family was heartened by “fragmented” reports indicating that Annie had been only “slightly injured.” And the family rejoiced when they learned she was reported on board the S.S. Empress of Australia, a passenger on her way home.

Just imagine their shock and pain when the family received received the final word on September 17 that Annie Mullen had died on the ship while en route home.

——

A new-old story by June Morrall

…more
…more coming

John Vonderlin’s Garden

June: Was it Saturday that I was sitting in my garden enjoying the warm sun and the natural beauty around me? Birds were flitting around; I thought I saw a flash of yellow and with my eyes tried to follow the flyer but it was too fast—and then it vanished from view altogether. What a disappointment. I described my few hours in the garden that has taken years to create, to beautify, and this is what John said:

[Image below: French Iris]
plants

Hi June,
   Your mentioning your garden and the enjoyment you get from it, made me want to share a few pictures. We have a large Star Jasmine
starjasmine
along half of the south-facing side of our house. It frames the upper pane of the living room window, providing privacy while sitting, but still let’s lots of light in, especially since I removed the overhanging roof in this section. Once a year it becomes a wall of pure white, sweet-smelling blossoms. This year, because of the cool weather, it has had an extended run, leading right up to the blooming of the Agapanthus planting (Lily of the Nile)
agapanthus  

that fronts it. This thirty-some year old vine is just a joy on so many levels, from aromatic to functional. 
jvgarden4. Enjoy. John 

Angelo Misthos: Bad Decisions: This is why Prosperity did NOT follow the Ocean Shore Railord

Story by Angelo Misthos

Note:  “Optimism does not a success make”–June quote

prosperity1


  Hi, June. It’s a good question.  As you know I correspond with John re the OS;  I think John pretty much knows my viewpoint.  Anyway, here it is:  Essentially, to paraphrase Robert Browning,  Ah, but a man’s reach should exceed his grasp, but not on the Ocean Shore.  (Perhaps to replace the slogan “Reaches the Beaches”.) The idea of a railroad along the coast was a good one–thought of years before– but the carrying out was not.
    The OS was under-capitalized at the outset.  Too much money was wasted as it turned out  on double-track construction wiped out by the 1906 earthquake, and on electrical equipent and facilities never used, since after that event the line was forced to switch to single-track steam operation.  The idea of starting to build simultaneously from San Francisco south and north from Santa Cruz  was poor planning, especially in view of the shortage of funds.  It forever remained, as someone said, two branch lines.  A single track steam line beginning from S.F.  would have reached the fertile valleys of San Gregorio and Pescadero as well as the timber resources of the Butano Forest area before running out of money.Then,  with an income-producing operation the OS more easily could have widened to an electrified double- track, if still desired,  and gone on to Santa Cruz.  (I realize this is hindsight, but  the unrealistic optimism of the promoters should have let a bit of room for foresight.)  The grandiose plans for real estate opportunities  and suburban play land type developments wasted additional funds.  For them it was not build it and they will come–just the opposite. True,  bad luck did not help–the earthquake for example as well as the financial depression that began almost as soon as the OS started out.  And  management obsession–to build along the ocean’s  edge insofar as possible–undoubtedly increasing construction  as well as roadbed maintenance costs.
    Yes, the Ocean Shore was a good idea and one whose time had come.  Unfortunately, those behind it were not railroad men, but entrepreneurs successful in other
ventures but not  at building or running a railroad.    Angelo

 

John Vonderlin: Moss Beach Owes Its Name to the Variety of Mosses Found There

Story from John Vonderlin

Email John [email protected])

Hi June,
   It was stories like the following that helped to give Moss Beach its name. Resort owners were glad to make Moss Mania, Pebble Pathology, and Shell Sickness, all common ailments along the beaches of the Coastside in the 1800’s. Enjoy. John
 
 
LETTER FROM SANTA CRUZ. From the special correspondent of the Alta.  Santa Cruz  June 14th, 1867. 
The Sea-Moss Mania.
   The ladies down here have a perfect mania for gathering sea-moss. One lady has collected half a bushel of it, at least. There is something fascinating in the employment — the moss looks so pretty, dotting the beach; and it is interesting to search  out the choice colors of it. As many ladies have never gathered moss, and do not understand how to prepare it for making up in wreaths, bouquets, etc., I will tell them how it is done. During high tide the moss is washed high on the beach, and can be gathered dry, though generally you find it in the greatest quantities on the wet beach, among the sea-weeds, as the waves wash them on shore; then, again, it is washed up in large bunches, separate from the weeds. Sometimes, in following up a receding wave, in pursuit of a bunch of moss, the water comes rolling back sooner than expected, and you find yourself immersed over shoe-tops. It is delightful, after feathering a basket full of moss, to walk to a little pond near by the beach, the water from the mosses dripping over you the while; then, to sit down on a rock by the pond, throw your moss in the water, wash it and then replace it in the basket, all nice and clean. You throw off your gloves to do this; the water is warm and pleasant; you will enjoy it; it will make your hands hard and red, and your face will get well browned up walking on the hot seashore. But, there is no pleasure in gathering sea-moss in gloves and veil. Next, you carry your mosses to the house, spread them out, when dried, lay them carefully away in boxes. When ready to arrange it, place a few pieces of it at a time in a basin of water, where the leaves will separate, and resume their natural size and form (they shrink very much in drying) but, in raising it from the water, the separate leaves of a stem fall together again, and to obviate this difficulty, slip a piece of tin, a plate, or card, whichever you wish to dry it on, in the water, under the moss, and in this way it can be raised in nearly its perfect shape. If you wish to let the moss remain on the card, press it, when partially dry, between the leaves of a book. When dried, it it easily removed from the card, or whatever it is dried on, and ready for arranging as you wish. May, l am told, is the most favorable time of the year for gathering it.  The manner in which gentlemen gather moss is amusing.  They spend considerable time collecting it — for their wives, I suppose, or perhaps for somebody else’s wives.  At all event, they gather it, and they pick up sea-weeds, grass, shells, sand, sticks, and everything connected with the moss, indiscriminately.
   Since writing the above, I have made a discovery.  Sometimes, in removing moss from the paper on which it is dried, it sticks and breaks. To prevent this, oil the paper slightly.  I believe, is considered the best thing to dry it on.    Hagar

 

John Vonderlin: Genes or Good Diet? In 1860 Manuela Pinto died. She was 120!

Story from John Vonderlin

Email John ([email protected])

Hi June,
   While the inexactitude indicated by “over 120 years,” leads me to believe there is some of the typical exaggerration found in historical estimates of longevity, I’ll still pass this along as one of Half Moon Bay’s lesser claims to fame. Though with this article being from the May 5th, 1860 issue of “The Daily Alta,” it’s a bit faded. Enjoy. John
 
Death of the Oldest Inhabitant. — Manuela Pinto, who was over 120 years of age, and probably the oldest inhabitant of California, died at San Benito, on Half Moon Bay, on the Ist inst., in the full possession of her intellectual faculties. She was a native of Mexico, but had resided in California a great many years. She leaves many descendants in Santa Clara County.
——
Question: John, what does 1st inst mean? The first month, like January/

John Vonderlin: Why didn’t Prosperity follow the Ocean Shore Railroad?

[ Note:The usual answer to this question is that it was easier to build on the other side of the hill, on the flatter land,  in San Mateo, San Bruno, etc. There may be other reaasons; please let us know.]

 

PROMO FOR THE OCEAN SHORE RAILROAD

Story from John Vonderlin
email John ([email protected])
Hi June,
  This ad captures the most frequently used selling point of the tracts along the Coastside, that being: Be smart!, Get it in now!, Before the prices go up!, up!, up!. I liked the metaphor of prosperity as a powerful train, coming on tracks straight at you. It can’t miss! Nothing can stop it!  Alas, except an Earthquake. Enjoy. John
prosperityprosperity1

Moss Beach could have had another name….

And that name was BLENHEIM. Not the most beautiful name, I have to admit. But the place Blenheim is a very beautiful home, and a home to an important political family.

I don’t know how serious the name change was; it was instigated by the famous Kyne family, well known farmers in Moss Beach who produced the well known mid-20th century author Peter Kyne. For the longest time, I couldn’t figure out the origins of BLENHEIM but the internet came to the rescue. Here’s a book called “Blenheim and the Churchill family.” 

Blenheim, a magnificent palace was the birthplace of Sir Winston Churchill.

You can see that the Kynes thought of Blenheim as a joke, the name Blenheim, the fancy palace to replace that of Moss Beach, a farming community with a beach unlike any other.  Actually, I’m not sure when Moss Beach became Moss Beach, if it was a name that the Ocean Shore Railroad gave this special place.”

blenheim1blenheim1blenheim1

The book is called: “BLENHEIM and the Churchhill Family: A Personal Portrait by Henrietta Spencer-Churchill”

For more information, please click here

 

 

 

John Vonderlin: March 1906: What happened to the Portuguese-American Bank?

Story from John Vonderlin
Email Jon

Email John ([email protected])

Hi June,
This article from the March 31st,
1906 issue of “The Call,” was just
weeks before the ’06 Quake, so I’m
not sure if the bank branch succeeded.
Enjoy. John
SUBURB NEEDS
SECOND BANK
Rapid Growth of Halfmoon
Bay Compels Establishment
of Another Depository
STOCK IS SUBSCRIBED
Institution Will Be Styled
Portuguese-American Con
cern by Its Promoters
Special Dispatch to The Call.
HALFMOON BAY. March 30.— So rapidly has this town grown, since work be-
gan on the Ocean Shore Railroad that the need of another bank has been felt
keenly and capitalists have been found to satisfy the need. The bank now here is
less than one year old, but business is great enough for two financial institutions.
The new bank will be known as the Portuguese-American Bank and will
be under the direction of J. R. Pereire. Stock has already been liberally sub-
scribed and a policy to issue shares only in small amounts to individual
purchasers will faithfully be carried out.
The Portuguese-American Bank was founded in 1905 by Joaquim António da Silveira, at one point perhaps the richest Portuguese in the United States, and a number of other Portuguese in San Francisco. Silveira was originally of Ribeira da Areia, São Jorge, Azores, and he received knighthood in the Order of Christ from the Portuguese government in 1935. He lived in California and Nevada and was active in the dairy business
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Author/Musician Michaele Benedict: “Mystery with Strings”

Email Michaele: ([email protected]]

Mystery with Strings

A Short Story by Michaele Benedict

violin

 

 Musical instruments have their own lives. Most of them outlast one generation, so they get passed down, passed along, get lost and found again, get put away in attics, get stolen, recovered, or offered at junk sales like the little violin which finally regained its voice recently in Montara.

            It was a rather battered orange-painted instrument missing some essential parts, so it was impossible to know what it might sound like. A friend whose daughter plays violin had found and bought it, thinking it would be a shame for an instrument, even a battered instrument, to wind up among garage sale cast-offs.

            Burned into the back of the violin were the words “Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, School District.” “I telephoned them,” the rescuer said, “and asked if they wanted it back, but they said they hadn’t had a string program for years, so they had no use for the violin.”

            My cellist husband, who sometimes makes minor repairs on stringed instruments, heard about the discarded violin and asked if he could look it over for a while. Chipped varnish covered the maple and ebony. There were various scars and dings. But visible through the F-holes (the scrolled openings on the tops of stringed instruments) was a label which said “Antonio Curatoli, Mittenwald, Germany, 1928” and “Copy of Amati”.

            “This might be a pretty good German violin,” Charles speculated.

            I was curious about Antonio Curatoli and tried to research the mysterious luthier or instrument maker. The consensus among fiddle fanatics seemed to be that there may or may not have been an actual maker named Antonio Curatoli. He may have been a Neopolitan seller of violin strings who learned to make instruments. Or the name may more likely have been a trade name of the German violin company E. R. Schmidt, whose instruments were imported in the early 20th century by various companies including Sears. “Sort of like Betty Crocker,” Charles said.

            The Curatoli violins sold for about 25 dollars in the 1920s, but they are bringing two or three thousand in these days of scarce fine wood and carbon fiber substitutes. The Philadelphia violin was, of course, virtually worthless as it was.

            For several months, the violin sat in various places in our house, being scraped, sanded, and finally varnished with amber, a bit at a time. It perched, drying, on a kind of stand, where it was frequently examined (longingly, I thought) by the teenager whose father had found it.

            This young woman applied for and received a scholarship from the Coastside Community Orchestra with the hope of having the violin finished off by Charles’ luthier friend who made his lovely cello. The varnished violin, missing tailpiece, bridge and strings, went to San Francisco.

            The maker reshaped the fingerboard, replaced a missing peg and rebushed the other three, made a bridge and recalculated its placement according to the original specs. He put on strings and wrote up the bill for a third what the work was worth.

            Yesterday, the luthier returned the Curatoli in working condition, and as fate would have it (I love to say “as fate would have it”) the young violinist happened to be at the house at the time, taking a piano lesson. The luthier handed over the violin. Four of us waited breathlessly to see what the violin would sound like.

            First things first: She tuned it, she borrowed a bow, and she tucked it under her chin. Then she played the beginning of a Bach violin concerto. It was beautiful.

=============

Michaele Benedict lives in the “artist community” of Montara. Her latest book is called “Searching for Anna.”