ANAHEIM

By Emma Hildreth Adams
Excerpted from, "To and Fro in Southern California" by Emma H. Adams, originally copyrighted in 1887.

Two things give Anaheim, our next point on the road, prominence in the country and the newspapers. These are its wineries and ostrich farm. The rearing of ostriches being a rare undertaking in America, these birds excite much curiosity on the part of visitors to the Pacific Coast. The ostriches are farmed about seven miles from the village, and at present number forty or more. I have not seen them, but have been told that about half of them are full grown, and measure, from the ground to the top of the back, from eight to nine feet. The ostrich is a timid fowl, but the males when irritated are disposed to be violent, towards their mates, and towards men and animals. It is reported that even their former careful and humane superintendent, Dr. Sketchley, occasionally became the object of their wrath at Anaheim; and, also, that one of the birds, a Hercules for strength, becoming enraged at his mate not long ago, raised one of his powerful legs and dealt her a terrific blow, when quickly she was no more. I will not vouch for the truth of these statements. Undoubtedly the African bird holds, as many men do, that he has a right to strike his wife. Dr. Sketchley, no longer at Anaheim, but now actively engaged in founding a zoological garden, on a scale of munificence in keeping with every thing Californian, a few miles north-west of Los Angeles, among the foot-hills of the San Fernando Mountains, can answer for himself as to the treatment he received from his Anaheim wards. Here also he is planting a colony of these birds of elegant plumage.

Like the eucalyptus and the pepper tree, the ostrich loses its attractiveness as age creeps on. Hence the juvenile members of the Anaheim family are most in favor with visitors. Some of them are now about the size of full-grown turkeys, and are prospectively very valuable on account of their feathers. The first plucking takes place when the bird is about a year and a half old.

The eyes of the ostrich are large and very keen, enabling them to discern objects at a great distance. Their hearing also is remarkably acute. I have been told that the sight of a horse inspires them with great terror, and that a gentleman recently rode one of these animals within view from their inclosure at Anaheim, when the birds, catching sight of him, were thrown into such fright that the rider was forced to remove him. Their cry is loud and piercing, and may be heard at a great distance. "When contending with a foe they hiss vigorously, thus publishing their relationship to the goose."

The feathers of the ostrich are taken chiefly from the tail and wings. Those of the males are either white or brown, tipped with black, and are remarkable for their length. It is for these long plumes mainly that the ostrich is farmed. The feathers of the female are dark brown, mingled with white. For centuries past the handsome plumes of the African ostrich have been worn by men as insignia of their rank. The badge of the present Prince of Wales is three white ostrich feathers. When John, of Luxembourg, was defeated at Crecy, by Edward the Black Prince, he wore in his casque one of their long, white plumes. And, even prior to that date, they distinguished the house of Plantaganet. The wearing of three feathers, grouped, in the coronet of an English prince is said to have been introduced by Henry, eldest son of James the First. Certain young women of America must have adopted the fashion, for, seated in front of me at church last Sunday morning, was a young lady with three white plumes set against the front of her hat, its only trimming.

Anaheim is one of the oldest of recent settlements in Southern California, having been established nearly twenty-five years ago. It was settled by a colony of Germans, who planted extensively the "wine grape," introduced by the Spanish missionaries. In a few years they were freely engaged in the manufacture of wine. They made money at the baleful business, and laid it up, as is so natural for the frugal Teuton to do, instead of expending it in making their surroundings beautiful. And, now, in their plain and exteriorly comfortable homes, they appear to be taking their ease. A few of the residences are very pretty. The place has a drowsy, Autumnish look. No new buildings are going up. There is no activity in the streets. The spirit of enterprise seems to have taken its flight, if it were ever here. Anaheim is at the midnight of a long sleep. When it wakens it will find that the enterprising villages of Orange, Tustin, and Santa Ana have far outstripped it in the race for business and improvement.

Leaving here we pass on to the last-named town, one of five charming villages occupying the valley of the Santa Ana River, seven miles south-east of Anaheim, two-and-a-half miles south of Orange, with Tustin on the east, and Westminster, a neat, thriving town, founded by a colony of enterprising temperance people, who at the beginning forever barred out the saloon by proviso in their act of incorporation, lying due south of it.

Every rod of the ride is delightful. Long lines of eucalypti, pepper, and cypress trees grace the road on either side. The gates of the pretty yards stand invitingly open. The hedges are trim and green. Flowers brighten the closely cut lawns. The cottages, of a dozen chaste styles, look cool and inviting on this warm afternoon. Every thing betokens prosperity. Still, so recently were none of these things here, that their existence seems like the work of magic.

Santa Ana, the largest of the group, contains about two thousand five hundred people. Eleven years ago its now vine-clad site was a treeless waste, a mere pasture for flocks. Its inhabitants were principally Mexicans, and widely scattered. But its climate had become known as one in which consumptives were almost sure to recover. Word to that effect reached Minnesota and other Northwestern States. Hither from them came numbers of that class of invalids. Few of them could come alone. So with them came the strong and well, bringing some money, indomitable energy, and power to scheme and drive. Mr. J. W. Layman, of Minneapolis, one of the first on the ground, built a hotel. Then followed church and school-house. Soon up sprang lodges of Masons, Odd Fellows, Good Templars, a Band of Hope, and a Post of the Grand Army of the Republic. All wide-awake in their legitimate fields of activity, and now possessing their own inviting halls for meetings. Transplanting their love of refinement into the new soil, the citizens foster art in several of its departments, and pay liberal stipends to teachers.

From the Santa Ana River and the two strata, sheets, or lakes of water which underlie the entire plain, one at a depth of sixty, the other at a distance of three hundred feet, is derived the water supply for this coterie of settlements. For domestic purposes the fluid is obtained through artesian wells, sunk to the second stratum. To sum up, the three strong points of the region are: An almost faultless climate, a wonderfully fertile soil, an inexhaustible supply of pure, cold water.

Eight miles south of Santa Ana lies Newport Bay, the most accessible sea-side resort. In full view from it, and near enough for an enjoyable sail, are the islands of San Clemente and Santa Catalina, notable for their scenic charms and historical associations.

Something like a mile below Santa Ana, on property belonging to one Captain West, are to be seen the ruins of an old adobe house, which, you will be told, was the birthplace of the famous Mexican General and President, Santa Anna. But history robs the place of this honor. A friend, familiar with every page of the man's career, informs me that the Mexican President never saw California. Antonio Lopez was a native of the State of Jalapa, Mexico. At one time in his life he was the proprietor of a handsome estate in that republic, which, out of gratitude for the services of Saint Anne, he named Santa Anna. There being other men in Mexico of the name of Lopez, he in time came to be designated as Lopez de Santa Anna; and, later, by the American newspapers, and also by the American army during the war with Mexico, as General, then President Santa Anna. To this river and valley the name Santa Ana was given by the "Missionary Fathers" during their first journey from San Diego to Monterey, and long before the day of Lopez, of Jalapa.

Emma Hildreth Adams of Cleveland, Ohio, visited Southern California in 1884 and 1886. To and fro in Southern California (1887) is the book edition of Mrs. Adams's travel letters originally published in a Cleveland newspaper. She writes at length of her rail trips west and stops in New Mexico and Arizona. In California, she focuses her attention on Los Angeles, with visits to Downey, Anaheim, Pasadena, and San Pedro. She discusses area schools, agriculture, regional flower-growing, irrigation projects, the position of women, and schools; and reports an interview with Hubert H. Bancroft. OCThen.com has republished specific materials from this text for educational purposes.