Native Americans of the Redwood Coast

Image of painting Ma-tu, Pomo Medicine Man by Grace Hudson

When lumber mills first began sprouting up along the 19th century Mendocino coast, Native Americans were still a constant presence. Many indigenous place names were adopted by settlers and remain with us to this day. Others have faded into obscurity. We know, for instance, that the area now known as Mendocino village was originally called Bool-Dam or Buldam by subgroups of the Northern Pomo. Bool-Dam meant “big holes” and referred to the blowholes on the Mendocino headlands. Early maps created after California statehood refer to Big River as Bool-Dam River. Continue Reading →

Lorenzo White: Linchpin of the American Dream?

Portrait of Lorenzo White from THE SAN FRANCISCO CALL, July 4, 1896.

At the peak of Lorenzo White’s success his holdings stretched from Oakland to Fort Bragg. He owned stores, ranches, sawmills, hotels, ferries, saloons, restaurants, real estate, a fleet of ships, and several logging railroads. He commanded the attention of powerful politicians statewide and held sway over four California counties. White’s ambition at times seemed limitless and was the driving force in amassing a considerable fortune. So what can we conclude about L. E. White from this jumbled legacy he’s left us? Was he a mean spirited, ruthless villain and thief or a generous benefactor, a savvy businessman, a civic leader, and an all around stand up guy? Continue Reading →

Albion: Petri Dish of the California Lumber Boom

Passing through the village of Albion in Mendocino County, it’s hard to believe it played a pivotal role in one of the most dramatic periods in California history. Traveling north on Highway 1, you’ll reach a stretch of road that is mercifully free of the endless hairpin turns that plagued you farther south. You’ll settle into a relaxed drive through undisturbed ranch land as the Pacific Ocean disappears and reappears in darting vistas on your left. You’ll cross the picturesque white bridge over Salmon Creek, noting the tranquil Whitesboro Cove at the creek’s mouth. In a few hundred yards, you’ll see a sign for Albion. Then two roads — one winding up to Ledford House on a bluff to the left, the other climbing a hill to the Albion Store and Post Office on the right. In another click, you’ll blur past a scattering of houses that trail down the Continue Reading →