The next time you are stuck in the weekend traffic on Highway 92, thinking about this story might help to pass the time. This recounting of one of the very few stage holdups ever to occur in San Mateo County is from the August 18th, 1905 issue of “The San Francisco Call.”
SHERIFF OF SAN MATEO COUNTY AND A DRAWING DEPICTING THE STAGE HOLDUP WHICH TOOK PLACE YESTERDAY MORNING NEAR SAN MATEO ON THE HALFMOON BAY ROAD. THE BANDIT AFTER GATHERING UP HIS BOOTY, ESCAPED TO THE HILLS. Special Dispatch to The Call.
Coach Halted on the Half Moon Bay Road
Bandit Fires, on Man Who Drives Up
Collects Booty and Makes Escape
REDWOOD CITY, Aug. 17. One of the most daring stage robberies in the history of the State and one without parallel in this part of the country occurred this morning three miles from San Mateo and about twenty miles from San Francisco. The stage which operates between San Mateo and Halfmoon Bay was halted by a lone highwayman on the steep grade near the Crystal Springs dam, and at the point of a revolver, the driver of the stage and the affrighted passengers were forced to deliver their personal valuables and to throw into the road the strong boxes of Wells-Fargo & Co., and a commercial firm of Halfmoon Bay.
The robber won but little of value for his desperate deed and fortunately no one was Injured, although the highway man fired three shots at a passing driver of a team who unwittingly interrupted the knight of the road in his work.
The affair has created intense excitement throughout the county and two well
organized posses, lead by Sheriff Mansfield of this city, are scouring the hills for the bandit. Wells-Fargo detectives are on the scene, but as a very poor description of the robber has been obtained from the occupants of the stage, the prospect of an early capture is not brilliant.
The stage had left San Mateo at an early hour and had gone as far as the Crystal Springs dam. Five passsengers and the driver, Edward Campbell, comprised the party. On the seat with the driver, was O. Olsen, a traveling man employed by Langley & Michaels of San Francisco. On the Inside . of the coach were Miss A. Johnson and J. C. Santos of Halfmoon Bay and Peter Julie and Ralph Rooden of San Francisco. In the care of the driver were the money box of Wells-Fargo & Co. and a private box of Levy Brothers of Halfmoon Bay.
ORDERS DRIVER TO HALT
Just at the turn of the road near the old Smith toll gate, where the cliff descends, precipitately a hundred feet from the road, a masked highwayman stepped
into the road and with leveled revolver shouted the command to halt. The order was obeyed with alacrity. The robber called to the driver to throw the mail sack and the Wells-Fargo box into the road.
Campbell obeyed as far as the boxes were concerned, but hesitated to giving up the mail pouch. An oath from the bandit and a threatening fingering of his pistol brought the desired sack Into the road.
Partly recovered from their terror, the passengers had an opportunity to observe the robber. He was short, probably five foot seven Inches in height, thick-set, weighing, about one hundred and eighty pounds and was palpably disguised as to dress. He wore a long black overcoat, blue overalls and a tight-fitting black cap. His face was effectually concealed by a black handkerchief.
When the mail sack and the boxes had been thrown into the road the robber commanded Santos to pass around his hat among his fellow passengers and not to forget himself in the contribution. Santos understands English imperfectly and was slow to comply. The robber’s pistol and his evident intention to use it proved a stimulus to Santos and his hat came off without further delay.While the enforced donations to the thief was in progress and Santos was wondering how he was going to keep $95 he had in his pocket, a team, rapidly driven, turned the bend in the road. FIRES UPON INTRUDER
The highwayman, who had started toward the stage to collect his booty, turned quickly and leveling his revolver at the unfortunate interloper, fired. ‘The bullet missed its mark and the driver of the team, E. Bertelotte, jumped from his seat and ran toward the hill. The robber contented himself with firing two more futile shots at the fleeing man and then turned his attention to his prisoners on the stage.
With a volley of oaths he ordered the driver to move on and not to look behind at the peril of his life. The order was strictly obeyed, but the highwayman was not to enjoy the inspection of his prizes in peace. In a short time another team came into view and this time the robber took fright. He had opened the boxes and abstracted all there was of value in them. He was rifling the mail pouch when interrupted. Leaving the boxes behind he broke and ran, taking the mail sack with him.
The alarm was at once given and posses were organized in this city and at San Mateo. Sheriff ‘Mansfield led the party from here, but as yet no clew (sic) of the robber has been obtained.
J.W.Thacker of the Wells-Fargo Company was here rendering whatever assistance his long experience is able to suggest. He, as well as Superintendent Woods of the Wells-Fargo Company, declares that the marauder found nothing of value in the strong box of the company, as large sums of money are seldom carried and never on the early morning stage.
Levy Brothers make the same assertion in reference to their loss. It would appear from this that the desperate thief had very little to reward him for his escapade. This is the second stage robbery in the history of San Mateo County and the first, under such exceptional conditions.
A new-old story by June Morrall. I wrote this piece in the 1970s (don’t hold it against me!)
The San Mateo -Pescadero Stagecoach, with a stop at Half Moon Bay
[Image below: A modernized Occidental Hotel. It was originally 3 stories tall, but I believe a fire took out the top floor. The hotel was famous because this is where the stage stopped to drop off passengers, the mail, and to give the horses water and a rest before heading south to the “big resort” of Pescadero with its enticing Pebble Beach.]
When ten-year-old Mary McGinty stepped off the [Southern Pacific] train at San Mateo, she heard Taft and Garretson’s stagecoach driver call out: “Stage for Pescadero.”
Although the day before a total of 23 passengers piled in and and on the six-horse Concord, today only Mary and her mom [who bought tickets for as far as Half Moon Bay, then called Spanishtown], climbed into the coach.
Moments later, two gentlemen joined them–and Richard ‘Beefstake” Dougherty , who once owned the stage running between San Mateo and Purisima, sat up top with the driver.
After swinging into his seat, someone handed the driver the Wells Fargo strongbox and the mail bags. The driver, who wore a western hat low over his forehead, shouted commands at the horses. With a loud crack of the whip, the Concord stage left San Mateo about 10 a.m., heading up B Street [humorously called “Avenue de la Mud.”]
At Fifth Avenue, the coach turned in a westerly direction, following the creek for several miles before stopping at the San Mateo toll station. Here the driver, who paid fifty cents trotted the horses up the gentle grade toward the picturesque Crystal Springs Hotel.
By now, Richard Dougherty detected this particular driver’s weakness for alcohol. But at the time, he gave it little thought. This was merely part of the risk involved when traveling by stage along the scenic (and probably well-maintained San Mateo-Spanishtown turnpike.
At the Crystal Springs Hotel slipped into view, the travelers absorbed the pleasant surroundings. Before long, the driver pulled the stage to an abrupt halt under the shade of a large Oak tree. And as soon as he jumped down, the driver sauntered over to the saloon to quench his thirst.
When he finally emerged from the bar, Mary nudged her mom, and called attention to the driver, who appeared slightly unsteady on his feet. He managed to climb on board anyway, and Mary recalled heading along the west bank of today’s lower Crystal Springs Lake for about two miles. This time, the driver passed at the San Felix Station, where he dropped off the mail. He also indulged in a stiff drink or two, spending more time in the saloon, than the tight schedule allowed.
In this high-spirited condition, the driver ascended the twisting mountain road leading over the hill toward Spanishtown. As the stage rounded one of the first sharp curves, the driver pulled into the next stop at Byrne’s Store. Despite a flurry of pleas and warnings from the nervous passengers, the driver entered the saloon there, to buy himself yet another drink.
Back on the road again, the stage crawled up the steep grade. Dougherty casually mentioned it would be dark before they reached San Gregorio. But as soon as Dougherty said this, he regretted his words. When the stage reached the summit, the inebriated driver suddenly announced in a booming voice: “This stage will arrive in Spanishtown on time or bust!”
With his ominous words left hanging in the air, he whipped the horses into a fast run down the winding turnpike [which San Mateo Count bought in the 1880s.]
As the stage raced down the serpentine road, the frightened passengers frequently glanced over the side, shivering when the thought crossed their minds that the horses might run away. There was nothing the passengers could do as the coach continued to pick up speed; soon it was obvious that the coach was out of the driver’s control.
As one of the gentleman saw the sharp bend in the near distance, he closed his eyes, and all at once everyone panicked in his or her own way.
Richard Dougherty, who was still sitting up top with the drunk stage driver, calmly appraised the situation. There was only one thing to do: When “Beefstake” refused to turn over the reins, Dougherty punched him in the face, knocking the driver out. With the intoxicated driver out of the way, Dougherty now took control, expertly slowing down the speed of the runaway horses. Slowing them down to a gait. The passengers took a deep breath and a unanimous sigh of relief could be heard. Now Richard Dougherty easily maneuvered the hairpin curves on two wheels.
As he approached the toll house near the village of Spanishtown, [where occasionally a fast horseman race through free] the toll-keeper noted the sleeping stage driver. But he said nothing and opened the gate. Fifteen minutes later the stage crossed Pilarcitos Creek, safely rolling into town about lunchtime.
Once the stagecoach pulled to a halt in front of the Occidental Hotel [which later became the site of the U.S. post office, which moved again], Mary McGinty confided that despite the scary experience, she actually enjoyed the thrilling ride–her first trip to Spanishtown.
The remaining passengers were headed for the resort town of Pescadero, and they were joined by others waiting to board in front of the Occidental Hotel.
Doughtery stayed in control of the stage, following the sea shore route to Pescadero. [This was not the only stage line; there were other competitors such as S.L. Knight whose passengers boarded at Redwood City, instead of San Mateo, enjoying the “scenic route” through the redwood tree canyons to Pescadero.
Regular stage service required the maintenance of three stables located between San Mateo and Pescadero. The largest service station was located in Half Moon Bay where “Buckskin” Bob Rawls, a veteran driver, was the stable boss.
[Image below: The legendary “Buckskin Bob Rawls” and his wife lived in Half Moon Bay.]
When Levy Brothers bought Andrew Taft’s stagecoach line in the 1880s, they hired popular Ed Campbell for their San Mateo-Pescadero run. For years, Ed lived in the shadow of the legendary stories glorifying “Buckskin” Bob Rawls, whose fame emanated from his ability to take the corner by the Occidental Hotel on two wheels without tipping over.
Fed up with the legend, Ed Campbell planned to prove he could carry on the tradition himself. He decided to prove that he could emulate “Buckskin” Rawls on a special day that drew crowds to Spanishtown. It was a day when clusters of people would be standing in front of the Occidental Hotel waiting for the stage to come.
Ed prepared his strategy during his regular run down Main Street at 15 mph. [Later, observers stated that Ed seemed so absorbed in his plan that he forgot about the two dozen passengers he carried including some frightened folks standing on the running board, clinging to the door handles.]
On this particular day as stage driver Ed Campbell neared Kelly Avenue, he suddenly whipped the horses into a very fast run, causing the passengers to lean to one side as the stage successfully rounded the corner on two wheels.
Everybody was amazed as the coach skidded around the turn without tipping over. But as it reached the Occidental Hotel, the stage failed to return to an upright position. No, instead the coach toppled over to Ed Campbell’s embarassment. That was not his plan.
To his credit, no one was injured, and he received a severe reprimand from his employers. In the end, “Buckskin” Bob Rawls retained his legendary reputation as the only stagecoach driver who could make the turn safely at the Occidental Hotel on two wheels.
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About Richard “Dick” Dougherty, article is circa 1909
“Purissima, whose Spanish name means pure and immaculate, is known today as the little town that almost flourished. Located four miles south of Half Moon Bay and one-half mile inland from Coast Highway 1, the only remains of this small community are weathered tombstones in the overgrown graveyard, and an old gray schoolhouse attesting to the once populous coastside school district.
“Built around Dick Doughtery’s saloon-hotel, a general store and dance hall owned by Henry Dobbel and a post office run by Julia Brittan, the once thriving village boasted boasted the first school, first religious services, and the first mechanics and tradesman of the region. The town rose with Dobbel’s arrival from Germany in 1868, when he built an establishment enticing sportsmen to the abundant hunting and fishing area. A prominent citizen, his pretentious home stood on the corner of Highway 1 and Verde Road, across from the ranch of John Butts., another German-born community leader. Lumbering by Borden and Hatch became a flourishing enterprise in the community, with redwood trees up Purissima Canyon furnishing shingles for surrounding towns.
“Oil companies set up derricks to drill for black gold , and soon a few producing wells were throbbing faintly near the old cemetery. Death claimed many Purissima citizens, and with them died the promise of a growing community. Raging disease, fire, and human hands destroyed the little town, and the time soon came when people failed to stop at Purissima altogether.”
“Learn about a fantastic rock weathering pattern,” according to website “owner” Jon Boxerman.
Says: John Vonderlin
Hi June,
Here are a few tafoni pictures. I like the first picture because it’s a good example of the “classic” tafoni
grouping with an interesting setting of multi-colored layers of rock turned on their sides. The second and third are a long view and close-up of what I now believe is an example of “Ephemeral Beach Art.”
I think I sent this to you previously with the comment that I was not sure if it was manmade or natural. On further thought, I’ve decided that the chances of the rocks of almost perfect size and shape to be thrown into the hole just right to make it stay is small. While Nature, given time could accomplish most anything, it’s misses would surely have crushed the delicate tafoni structures in the meantime.
The fourth is a picture of mollusks occupying an apartment building-style, tafoni-riddled rock.
I hadn’t noticed these when I photographed it originally.
The lastis a “two-tone tafoni,” where the tafoni structure is of a different type and color of rock then the substrate below it.
Enjoy. John
Hi June,
I’ll see if I can find out what happened to the shipwreck survivors and their boat in the article below. But, it doesn’t look good when at the time, there weren’t really any formal rescuers to come to their aid. You were on your own in the “Good Old Days.”
This is from the February 20th, 1863 issue of “The Daily Alta” in the “City Items” column. Enjoy. John
To the Rescue! — Yesterday afternoon, below Half Moon Bay, and off Point Pedro, was seen a raft or fragment of a wreck, to which were clinging some sixteen or eighteen men. The man who saw it at once rode up to town and divulged the intelligence. At ten o’clock last evening, the steam tug “Monitor,” Capt. Mark Harloe, was to leave this port in search of the wreck but did not. The unfortunate craft is supposed to be the schooner “Beeswing” from Monterey, laden with oil. She left that port some four or five days ago. Some steps should be taken by the Government to provide a suitable vessel —the Shubrick, for instance — to look after our marine interests.
USS Shubrick (1865), a steamer transferred to the Navy Department 23 August 1861;
returned by the Revenue Cutter Service to the Lighthouse Board in 1866
William Bradford Shubrick (31 October 1790 – 27 May 1874) was an officer in the United States Navy. His active-duty career extended from 1806 to 1861, including service in the War of 1812 and the Mexican-American War; he retired in the early months of the Civil War.Several ships in the U.S. Navy have been named USS Shubrick for him.
I don’t like to talk about my personal stuff that much—but this may be too important to ignore and will encourage others to make sure they are safe at all times. My cousin, my only cousin, lives in Belmont across the street from an unbuildable view, a very scenic canyon. On Tuesday while I was at my Grief Counselor (my life partner passed a couple of months ago) my cousin’s husband was not only robbed, and his car stolen, but he was beaten into a coma, from which he has not recovered.
The bad guy, not yet found, got into the house through a window that was not properly locked. Also, they had been having their home painted, and my cousin was really happy about the job. I’m not accusing the painters in any way at all–but perhaps someone else was watching. It was a horrific event coming on top of my own loss.
[Note: From my own research, there seemed to be originally many pro-South (Civil War) folks living the San Francisco Bay Area in the 1860s. I assume the secessionism John refers to in his story has to do with separating from the government, as in keep California as a separate entity. Of course, I may misunderstand the issue. But there were definitely were some important men living on the Peninsula who were pro-South, and over time that changed dramatically. Another man who was shot and killed in a Half Moon Bay saloon was Tiburcio Vasquez, the ranchero/owner of all the land between Medio Creek in Miramar and the approximately the concrete bridge in Half Moon Bay. Interestingly, there was also a bandit with the same name: Tiburcio Vasquez. Here’s a photo of the bandit: This Tiburcio Vasquez operated in the San Jose area. See his story below John’s post.
This excerpt from the August 20, 1861 issue of “The Daily Alta,” may describe the only assassination attempt ever attempted against a resident of Half Moon Bay. Do you know of any others? Enjoy. John
Attempted Assassination— Col. James G. Deniston Shot By A Secessionist.— A daring attempt at assassination was made about eleven o’clock last night at the saloon of Collins & Porter, on Commercial street, near Sansome. Tbe facts of tbe case, so far as learned by our reporter, are as follows : Col. James G. Denuton was sitting conversing with a few friends in the saloon in question, at the hour named, when a man entered named William Buckley, but better known as “Shortey,” who interfered in the conversation, and gave expression to rabid secession sentiments. Mr. Daniston reprehended him. Buckley became violent. Deniston remarked that, were he Gov. Downey, he would hang any man who could be proved to be a Secessionist. Buckley said : “I am a Secessionist; would you hang me?” Deniston replied: Yes, if I were Governor, I would.” Buckley instantly drew a pistol and fired at Deniston, who was still sitting. James K. Nuttman and others at once seized the would-be assassin and disarmed him. He was very furious, and boasted that he was a member of No. 6 Engine Company. The ball passed along and slightly grazed the abdomen of Mr. Deniston, who otherwise escaped uninjured. Buckley was detained until officer Pratt arrived, who conveyed him to the Station House, where he was locked up on a charge of an assault with a deadly weapon. Tbe whole affair was but the work of a few minutes, and only those wbo were present were aware ot ((((no au».” -..*.. … — . – JT— . )))rence. Mr. Deniston is well known in this city. His residence is at Half Moon Bay. He has lately been brought prominently before the public by tbe interest which he has displayed in the getting up of the volunteers for the protection of the Overland Mail route. It is but proper to say that the account of the difficulty was gleaned by our reporter from the friends of Mr. Deniston, who were present when it occurred.
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Hi June,
The Secessionists were attempting to keep California out of the Civil War. Mr. Denniston was quite the character, possibly one of the most colorful residents ever of HMB. Here’s a little excerpt about California secessionists.
I’ve got this strange article about Denniston, crime, political office, etc. I’ll send next. Enjoy. John
When the news of the threatened Civil war reached California, the southern wing of the Democratic press sneered at the idea of any war and declared the reports untrue. During the time that they were denying the reports of war, their friends were secretly planning to secede. When the fact was undeniable that war existed, then they began abusing the government. The majority of the Democratic press took good care to keep within the bounds of martial law. The San Jose Tribune, San Joaquin Republican, Stockton Argus, Visalia Expositor and Merced Express abused the government and the United States troops. They were excluded from the mails by the orders of General Wright and thus suppressed [16].
During the war this press continued its abuse, and it culminated April 15, 1864, in the destruction of several San Francisco offices by a mob. When the news was received of the assassination of President Lincoln, on the morning of April 15th about 8:00 o’clock, it created intense excitement throughout the loyal state. In San Francisco a body of men rushed to the Democratic Press and smashed things generally, and ended by throwing all of the type out of the window. The crowd howled. Beriah Brown, the editor, started hurriedly for San Leandro. The police dispersed the crowd, but again forming they served the Catholic religious paper, the Monitor [17] as they had served the Press. Then followed in turn the News Letter, edited by the Englishman Frederick Marriott, and the Occident, published by Zacharaih Montgomery, one of the bitterest secessionists in the state. Burning the printing cases of these papers in the streets, the mob started on the run for the office of the French paper, the Echo de Pacifique. The Alta, owned by Fred MacCrellish, was in a part of the same building. MacCrellish succeeded in pacifying the mob and thus saved a part of the French paper. The police now succeeded in driving back the mob and soon after General McDowell put the city under martial law and United States soldiers guarded all of the streets.
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[Note: There be errors in the text. Not to worry.]
More About James Denniston
There are some respectable people in San Mateo county. That’s so, notwithstanding the character of a few of the men who have represented them of late in the Legislature, the Supervisors, and the Union Convention. There are some men who have never been intimate friends with Ned McGowan and Bill/ Mulligan. There are some men who do not believe in ballot-box staffing. There are some men who do not believe in taking valuable public property, and giving it to favorites, without reason. These are facts. It is not strange, therefore, that some people in San Mateo county are not altogether pleased with Mr. Denniston’s conduct in the Toll-Road affair. The only paper of the county, and it is sound on the Union question, is bitterly opposed to Mr. Denniston. So are most of the people who live along the San Jose road, from San Mateo to Redwood City, and San Francisquito; and they are the bulk of the people of the county. So strong was this feeling, that Denniston’s friends saw that they conld not carry the county, at the late Union primary election for a County Nominating Convention. The enemies of Denniston elected nearly all the delegates. Bnt Denniston wanted to be Senator. He wanted to have three delegates favorable to him elected to tie Joint Convention, by the San Mateo County Convention. The latter Convention was opposed to him. He conld not get the three delegates fairly. It was necessary, then, to resort to foul means. The old County Committee of San Mateo, elected before his Toll-Road legislation, were his servants. They demanded the right to examine the credentials of the County Convention. The demand was absurd. It was contrary to all usage and reason. Every deliberative body examines its awn credentials. All Legislatures, and all Conventions do, and have done so, from time immemorial. , No State . Convention has ever permitted ‘ a State Central Committee, no County Convention has ever permitted a County Committee, to decide on the qualification*- of its members. However, Denniston did not care about the custom, the right or the reason. ., He knew that the Rowdy Convention of San Francisco would do anything | for him if they only could obtain an excuse for acting. If any San Mateo delegates, in Denniston’s interest, would only claim seats in the-‘ Joint Convention, they would obtain them. J The Rowdy Convention, and its Hero, James G. Denniston. The Lotaltt of Calikobn-ia. — A New York paper, speaking of California, says: ” The loyalty of California to the Union has ” been preeminently a loyalty of the afiiec” tions. Had California chosen to break ” the ties which bind her to th« republic, it ” is not easy to estimate the extant of the ” damage which her defection must have in” dieted upon the nation ; unless, indeed, by ” a standard of contrast with the immense ” strength, as well moral as material, which “her loyal adhesion to the Union and the ” Constitution has contributed to the com” mon cause.” Let the above tribute be fully sustained to-morrow by the triumphant return of the Union State Ticket and the Union Independent County Ticket. Be active, untiring and vigilant. Denniston is not the worst of men, nor the wont man on the Rowdy ticket. He is a jovial companion, a good judge of horses, a connoisseur in whisky, and a good specimen of a ” fast man ;” but he is no speaker, he knows nothing of Parliamentary tactics, and he cannot have the least influence in a Legislature. There are ether men on the ticket who are less honest, less scrupulous, more able, and more dangerous by far to legislation, than Denniston. DennUton had a few men in the San Mateo County Convention. When the Convention refused to let the Committee examine their credentials, the Denniston men withdrew, organized a Convention of their own, chose their delegates to the Joint Convention, and nominated their county ticket. The regular Convention’ did likewise. The two sets of delegates, the one in favor of Denniston, the* other opposed to him, appeared before the Joint Convention. The case was perfectly plain. On the one side were universal custom, reason, decent public sentiment, and the great body of the Union voters of San Mateo county; on the other were Mr. Denniston, Mr. Joseph Ames, [who, as Supervisor, encouraged Denniston in the Toll-Road business,] and all the interests of rowdyism and ruffianism. The latter cause won the day, and had a glorious triumph. The Denniston delegates were admitted; the Joint Convention nominated Dennigton first of all ; he was their ideal of a man. And this is the Convention, which is held up with its nominations, as sacred. When such things become sacred in San Francisco, then decency and honesty ought to be and will be proscribed.
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James G. Denniston and the San Mateo Toll Road
By these explanations made openly upon an exciting question in the Legislature of California, Mr. Denniston was publicly accused of having secured the passage of the bill by misrepresentation. He never denied the truth of the statement of either Hathaway or Shannon. In such cases, it is expected that a member of the Legislature will at least rise to a question of privilege and vindicate himself, but Mr. Denniston never did it. The bill was denounced as a fraud by many Senators and Assemblymen in open session. Nobody in either branch of the Legislature said a word in favor it, after its character had been exposed. Its author remained silent The Assembly unanimously passed a resolution requesting the Governor to erase his signature; the Senate refused to pass the resolution, for no reason save that they denied the right of the Governor to erase his signature from an act once signed. —[See Alta of March 27.] The Legislature afterwards passed an act to interpret the Toll-Road act, and to render it of no avail for the purposes designed. This supplementary act (it may be found on page SCI of Statutes of 1863) is really a repeal of the other, and effectually killed the fraud designed. It passed witheut opposition. Nobody attempted to vindicate the first bill or Mr. Denniston. The two acts stand as a monument of Mr. Denniston’ s fitness to be a Senator. ” Mr. Shannon said he had moved that the bill pass, at the request of Mr. Denniston, the Assemblyman from that County, who assured him that Dr. Hathaway wished him to move an immediate passage under a suspension of the rules, so soon as the bill should come in from the Assembly. In accordance with that request, be made the statement of Mr. Denniston to the Senate, and made the motion under which the bill passed. He knew nothing and cared nothing for the bill, and did no more for Mr. Denniston than he would have done for any other person. The question was now one between Dr. Hathaway and Mr. Denniston. ” Dr. Hathaway said he had never authorized Mr. Denniston to make such a Jequcst or statement.” The next day Senator Wallis, who had been out at lunch when the bill passed, denounced it, and Mr. Shannon and Dr. Hathaway explained. The Sacramento letter, published in the Alta of the 26th March, contains the following report of their explanation : The idea of granting such a franchise would be outrageous under any circumstances, but this bill proposed to take the property of the county without the consent of her official*, or the knowledge of her people. The matter was kept a secret until the bill had passed. The consent of the county officials could not have justified, though it might have furnished some excuse for the bill. The father of the bill was James O. Donniaton. He introduced it ; as the only Representative of San Mateo County in the Assembly, and claiming to represent the wishes of his constituents truly, he secured its passage. It was ” a little local bill,” and the Assembly trusted to the honor of the local Representative. They passed it in perfect blindness and ignorance of its nature. In the Senate the only Representative of San Mateo County was Dr. Hathaway. During his absence, Mr. Denniston took the bill, after its passage in the House, to Senator Shannon, and said Dr. Hathaway wished him (S.) to move a suspension of the rules, and pass the bill. Such requests are not rare, and Mr. Shannon had no reason to suspect any ill faith about the matter. He knew that the bill had passed the Assembly, and presuming that all was right, he made the motion. The bill was passed, and the Governor signed it on the 24th of March, before he knew its meaning. One of the most outrageous frauds ever proposed in the Legislature of California — and that is saying a great deal— is the act to grant to James E. Kuttman and others the San Francisco and San Jose road, so far as it runs through San Mateo county, for a toll road. The act may be found on pages 99 and 100, of the Statutes of 1863. The road was and is the property of the county. It is the chief county road of San Mateo, and the only wagon road by which travelers come to San Francisco from Santa Clara County. San Mateo has spent many thousands of dollars upon the road, and it is in excellent condition during nine months of the year. The act was drawn for the purpose of giving that road to Xuttman and his associates, with the right of erecting toll gates— the number is not specified— and collecting 25 cents for a horseman, 60 cents for a two-horse team, and $1 for a four-horse team at every gate. The grantees were required to grade the road, and since the road was already open, the earth soft, and the land level most of the way, the grading might have been done for $6000. In return for that, the grantees were to have the privilege of collecting about $30,000 annually of tolls upon the only road leading into San Francisco, for twenty-five years. James G. Denniston and the San Mateo Toll Road.
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The story of Tiburcio Vasquez, the bandit (who had the same name as the Coastside ranchero)
A new-old story by June Morrall (I wrote this years ago, please don’t hold it against me!)
Tiburcio Vasquez, the Notorious Bandit
Although Tiburcio Vasquez spelled his name exactly as the founding father of Spanishotwn –which we know today as Half Moon Bay, probably due to the United States Geological Survey’s (USGSS) description of the bay that looked like part of a circle–this Tiburcio Vasquez was a famous 19th century bandit who little resembled his law-abiding uncle, the Coastside owner of a huge rancho.
According to local legend, the bandit lived in Half Moon Bay in the 1850s, and the resident Joseph Miramontes said he could never forget meeting the “wild, mischievous boy” on the Rancho Corral de Tierra belonging to the law-abiding uncle.
But while the bandit Tiburcio earned himself a notorious reputation in the eyes of the new Americans–who began to appear after the Gold Rush–he had his admirers, native Americans” who applauded his exploits and infamous deeds, To some, he was compared to Robin Hood. Poets dedicated sonnets to him, women fell head over heels in love with him, and kids aspired to be just like him.
When asked, Vasquez, the bandit, explained that following the Mexican-American War (1846-48), a wave of discrimination followed, thus his criminal behavior. The big changes, brought to light by the sudden influx of Amerians, was difficult to cope with, a clash of cultures, so to speak.
In further explanation, he pointed out that at the traditional California balls and parties, Vasquez rubbed elbows with “rude” Americans who shoved aside the native men and “stole” their women. This brought about a strong feeling of revenge and the very young bandit Tiburcio Vasquez headed up a gang that stole horses, robbed stagecoaches, and caused general havoc.
What little we know about Tiburcio is that he was born in Monterey in 1935, well before the 1849 California Gold Rush.
Here’s the rest of his “story”: Tiburcio was a troubled young man who soon fell in with Anastacia Garcia, a well known horse thief and bandit . According to legend, Garcia belonged to the infamous Joaquin Murietta gang.
While Garcia attended an entertaining “fandango,” in Monterey with Vasquez, friend Garcia incited a brawl that grew and grew. Constable William Hardmount arrived to to restore order but was murdered forcing Garcia and Vasquez to flee into the nearby mountains.
It didn’t take long for a posse to pick up Garcia, and return him for trial in Monterey. He never made it into a courtroom as angry vigilantes stormed the jail and hung him. Vasquez escaped, robbing even more stagecoaches and staging hold-ups.
Eventually he headed for Southern California where he was arrested with Juan Soto, another criminal dubbed “the human wild cat.” Soto was killed in a famous gunfight with the well known California lawman Henry Morse. Tiburcio Vasquez was sentenced to San Quentin for five years. But as soon as he could he escaped during a “general prison break,” was caught for stealing horses again, and sent back to jail.
Tiburcio never gave up his career path, and when he got out of prison he continued in the same vein, but he had a partner called Tomas Redondo, described as tall and handsome. He also had aliases including “Procopio” and “Dick of the Red Hand,” whose life of crime was also ended by toughSan Francisco Sheriff Morse.
Eyewitnesses said Tiburcio operated in both Alameda and Sonoma Counties before returning to San Quentin for a third time.
This time when he was released he joined up with Cleovaro Chavez, a 5’11” 200-pound fellow. For five years Chavez and Tiburcio joined forces committing major raids on farms and ranches and robbing anyone who was vulnerable. The pair also had complicated love lives, leading to secret affairs with each other’s wives.
By now Tiburcio Vasquez was a brazen criminal, unafraid and willing to take huge risks. He knew what to expect from the sheriff and he had leanred to make the perfect right moves. He had become hard to catch.
Following the successful robbery of 12 people in a San Joaquin River town [where Tiburcio revealed a kinder side of himself by returning a stolen watch to his owner]–Vasquez schemed to rob and derail the Southern Pacific payroll train running between San Jose and Gilroy. But this risky plan failed. And to make up for the disappointment the Vasquez gang robbed a nearby hotel instead.
Tiburcio Vasquez, the bandit, had reached “robber-star” status and the press loved covering his exploits, perhaps even adding their own exaggerated flourishes to their stories. Vasquez’s exploits sold papers.
For example, a gunfight he was part of became a big story due to the shoulder wound he received, and without first-aid, rode away from the scene for at least sixty miles before stopping to have the painful wound examined.
He became a folk hero to native Mexicans who often offered him temporary refuge. Vasquez developed the clever idea of a vast spy network to warn him, and he developed mutual pacts of protection. Remember, we’re talking about the times around the “Mexican-American” War and its aftermath.
On at least one occasion, when “officials” stumbled across one of Tiburcio’s mountainous retreats, he slipped away, and the people who lived in the town at the bottom of the mountain claimed no knowledge of the bandit. His life consisted or running from one place to the next hoping not to be caught.
On another occasion, and what evolved into a “Black Swan” moment, that is an unexpected event, while the Vasquez gang were robbing a stagecoach they recognized a passenger they knew well, and ended up letting everybody go.
….more to come…
I’ve attached a bunch of ads from the Great Quake era, advertising the subdivisions being created from the OSR tracts and other landowners’ parcels. The Brophy’s Tract ad had some interesting text I’ll forward if you want to post it. Enjoy. John
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Remember that the tract I put on the market a few weeks ago is the choicest subdivision that has yet been offered, comprising forty acres, having over 1200 feet frontage on the main street of the town (Kelly Ave) and over one-half mile on the beautiful Bay, which affords an unobstructed Marine View from every lot. The railroad depot is located on this tract.
People who have seen other beach resorts grow, with the advent of electric roads, are getting into Halfmoon Bay now.
Get a lot, at first prices, and double your money when the spring rush starts.
The title is insured by the Title Insurance and Guarantee co., and I can give you a deed at once.
Excursion every Sunday, rain or shine. Come in and make arrangements to go down with me, for I can give you value for your money,
Story from John Vonderlin
Says: John Vonderlin
This Tiburcio Vasquez operated in the San Jose area. See his story below John’s post.