Published by the Fort Ross Interpretive Association, Inc.;

19005 Coast Highway One ;

Jenner, CA 95450 ;

© 1987 Fort Ross Interpretive Association ;

ISBN 0- 9617973- 3- 9 ;

Second Printing, 2004 ;

Printed by Seraphim Rose Press ;

Fort Ross Interpretive Association ;

Cover: Laura Call Carr, taken in March 1901, when she
was 24 years old. ( Courtesy Laurie Carr Horn);

My Life At Fort Ross: The Years 1877- 1907 ;

Laura Call Carr ;

The Fort Ross I write of is not the Fort Ross of today. All the images are gone and cold; today it is statistically correct, clean fact established by research and history. The area heading to the stockade is usually filled with glittering cars, chattering, hurrying people being directed to what they must see and where they can find something to eat or drink— changing direction every few minutes as all our lives do today. ;

My Fort Ross is peopled with different sorts of beings. They are shadowy now. They move slowly and easily. They have no place in the hurry and bustle of today. There was a glamour about them— from my father, who dominated the picture, and my mother, who so perfectly complemented him, down to the least of those who lived and visited there. ;

This is not a history; it is a collection of my memories of Fort Ross as I knew it long ago. There were nine of us children. I was sixth in line, followed by a sister and two brothers. We were solidly bound into a family and united in everything we did.;

My earliest remembrance of the Russian buildings is as follows. The chapel was in fair shape, not just as it is now; it has been restored by data and reasoning. The two block houses were sadly in need of repair. The southerly one was not as badly crumbled as the other, which was blocked off so that no one would get hurt— the logs were falling and the building leaned badly.
3

The Fort Ross Hotel and guests, with two- story addition ( the “ old” house) about 1880. ( Fort Ross State Historic Park Archives)

The southeast side of the stockade held a row of buildings that were used as stables and wagon sheds. Within the stockade,

the side where the commandant’s house1 still stands contained

a granary and two additions to the original buildings, one a

two- story affair, our family’s first home at Fort Ross and later

part of the hotel, where one of my sisters and I were born.

Next to the hotel was a long narrow building. 2 The front part

was used as a saloon; next was the mysterious “ back room”,

which we spoke of in whispers and were never allowed to enter.

Beyond that was a men’s washroom, with a long wooden sink

and tin basins. Then there were two or three “ bedrooms” and

behind these was a lovely little wind- protected garden with a

gate with a weight to keep it shut.

The large, two- story granary3 had wide, heavily planked steps

that led to the upper floor. I remember potatoes were kept in

the upper part. The lower part was divided into a wagon shed

and a dance hall. This hall had a wonderfully smooth- boarded

floor, benches all around it, and a small dais or stage where

4

musicians sat. Before I learned to dance, we used to roller skate

there. The George Morgan family, who ran the hotel in the

commandant’s house and its two- story addition, had three boys

and three girls. The Morgan children let us use their skates if we

would give them rusks, or light biscuits, which Dominica Bellotti,

our cook, made so well.

Outside the stockade, on the western side, was a beautiful garden

laid out in neat beds with well kept rows of vegetables and

flowers. It was enclosed with a heavy fence made of boards

nailed on lengthwise. There was a neat little summerhouse4

with latticed sides and little “ briderose” ( Cecile Brunner) found

now only near very old houses around the state. Also outside

the stockade were a slaughterhouse, a small cabin, and a building

used as a store, post office, and telegraph office. The Indians

had lived in small huts outside the stockade, but when I was

born these were all gone.

In front of the saloon, 1884: on horseback ( left) John Daly

( right) John Doda; standing ( left to right) patrons Mrs. George

Morgan holding daughter Vida, George Morgan, three patrons,

and W. C. Morgan; seated ( left to right) Lucille Morgan, Ethel

Morgan, Raymond Morgan. Behind the saloon are the two-story

addition ( left) and granary ( right). ( Courtesy Viva Leiva

Tomlin collection)

5

When my parents came to Fort Ross there were four children,

three born in Chile ( Ana, Rosa, Emma, and Oscar) and one in

San Francisco ( Mary). Two of us were born in the two- story

addition to the commandant’s house ( Lucy and me), and the

youngest girl ( Mercedes, called “ Ceda”) and my two brothers

( Carlos and George) arrived in the “ new” house, 5 built in 1878.

There were no trees on the site; we planted most of them. I

believe we planted all except the willows that grew in the little

creek where my father built the new house. He planted the

weeping willows there from slips brought from the Russian

orchard, which was about three- quarters of a mile from the

house. The northwest wind was prevalent and trees did not

thrive on the level land that was exposed to it, so on the slight

rise that existed northwest of the house, my father had a

windbreak of cypress planted. I remember the young trees being

unloaded from the schooner, and several men planting them,

and I remember again how we children watered all five hundred

trees every day for what seemed an eternity. I think every one

grew, but they had quite a struggle in one rocky place where

the road once went.

Looking toward the schoolhouse ( left) and the Call’s “ new”

house ( right) about 1895. ( Courtesy Viva Leiva Tomlin

collection)

6

The Call family and friends on the front porch of the “ new”

house about 1905: standing on the porch ( left to right) Ceda

Call, Ramona Pearce, Dorena Gottschalk, Phoebe Bowers;

seated on the top steps ( left to right) Laura Call, Carlos Call;

seated on the lower steps ( left to right) Emma Call, Lucy Call,

Mary Call; standing ( left) George W. Call, ( right) Mercedes L.

Call. ( Courtesy Mercedes Pearce Stafford)

My father was a father in every sense of the word. He was a

student and a scholar; he lived for his family. He was a big,

heavy set man about six feet tall, and weighed about 200

pounds. He was not fat; he was just big, heavily muscled,

and sturdy. He always wore a woolen business suit, stiff

white shirts with detachable collars, a tie, made- to- order

boots, a derby hat, and carried a heavy cane and a set of

keys.

He took long walks about the ranch and always brought home

interesting things to tell us, but I never knew him to do any

ranch work, except in his later days to saw wood for exercise.

He could not hitch up a horse, nor milk a cow, nor plant trees

or vegetables. He spent most of his time in his office working

on his bookkeeping or reading.

7

He had a good business head— he was a lawyer, mentor, and

advisor to anyone who sought him out. His word was his bond;

he was impartial and just. Once a month he went to San

Francisco or Santa Rosa on business. Everybody who knew him

came to him for advice as to business deals, law practice, or

when they got into trouble, just as they turned to my mother

for counsel in births, deaths, and marriage affairs. He abhorred

personal publicity. When my brother Carlos risked his life on a

dark stormy night to carry a lifeline to a vessel on the rocks, 6

thereby saving six lives, he would not let him accept a Carnegie

medal. I always believed God must be just like Papa, even to

the dicer hat and full beard.

My mother was sixteen when she married my father, the “ gringo”

who was twenty years older. She had dark hair and sparkling

black eyes; she was five feet tall and perhaps 100 pounds or

more. She was an orphan and had had no advantages, and

almost no schooling. But Mama had a good business mind, a

quick wit, and lot of good common sense. She was a natural

cook and had a love of the beautiful, which showed itself in her

handwork and garden. She was a wonderful mother. She never

raised a hand to us, and never scolded us. We were an extremely

harmonious family.

The orchards, the haying, the dairy, calves and hogs and chickens,

and the clearing of land kept everybody busy. Then there was

the business of cutting wood, for that was our only fuel.

Every fall the hay fields and orchards were plowed and seeded

with grain, for feed for the horses and cows. It was a big

operation and an important one, because the cows had to be

fed through the fall months after the grass had been eaten off in

summer. After the hay was harvested in June and July, the

apples began to ripen. The orchards bore abundantly, and we

had a great many apples of all kinds. Our favorite was from

the trees planted by the Russians, an early, very juicy, striped

apple, which we later learned was a Gravenstein. The cows

8

Cattle being driven past the Call house about 1900; note the

schoolhouse across old Coast Road in background. ( Courtesy

Laurie Carr Horn)

and hogs ate those which fell from the trees. Some of the cows

would shake the trees when they could reach the limbs. The

men would later gather the apples, and they were stored on

shelves in a cool dark building built for that purpose. We had

apples until April. The Russian orchard still has apples and pears.

The larger orchard ( 1,800 apple trees), planted by William Otto

Benitz, an earlier owner, was on a higher slope. When the trees

and brush that protected the Benitz orchard from the coastal

winds were later cleared away, most of the apple trees died.

We lived in a world of our own creation: of natural history, of

games which we ourselves invented. We explored that part of

the ranch which was near the house. We drew maps and pictures

of the town and named every little creek, path, and tiny

waterfall. We gathered wild flowers, and we brought home

shells and seaweed from the beaches and built “ ranches and

dairies” on the front porch. On Sunday mornings we went to

9

Bathing at the Sandy Beach about 1900 ( Courtesy Mercedes

Pearce Stafford)

the wonderful Sandy Beach, where we learned about the small

creatures that dwelled there and which we studied under

lamplight in Cassel’s History from my father’s bookshelves.

Sometimes we walked as far as “ Q” beach, about a mile, and to

Kolmer Gulch, a mile in the other direction. We went exploring

up the creeks, stopping at the old coal mine and daring ourselves

to go in. But we were never brave enough. We may have

gone in about six feet, but no farther. What might be in there?

The boys thought there might be bear, but what I feared I might

meet was something very eerie, not of this world. I was sure

there was a ghost or a witch or something of that sort there,

because often, after a rain shower, I saw the witches’ smoke

rising from the trees, and I looked fearfully but kept tight hold

of the posts on the porch so that if a witch came, it would have

to take the whole house if it took me.

Reading and music were a prominent part of our lives. Uncle

Ambrose Call in the East7 sent my family a square grand piano

around the Horn. It was put into the new house as it was being

built, and the house was built around it ( and it remains there

today). It was a source of great pleasure to us all. My two

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older sisters, Ana Rosa and Emma, were proficient pianists. As

we grew up, we formed a quartet, which gave the family an

additional source of enjoyment. Every Friday evening we had

an hour of singing. We met at our house and on alternate

weeks at the hotel. We spent many happy evenings there. My

sister Emma and I played the piano, while my brother George

played the harmonica, or W. C. “ Uncle Billy” Morgan, the

brother of the hotel operator and a gallant, well- mannered

storekeeper of the old school, played the fiddle.

In one of our games, everything that we were associated with

had not only a name but a tune. My sister Emma would play

the piano. She was always the interlocutor, the leader. She sat

at the piano and one of us would interpret the story as she

played it. We used these songs as a secret code to communicate

to each other when we wanted to tell of an arrival, or about

someone, or a place to go. We even used it quietly at the

dinner table, where our father kept us silent and obedient. If

we disobeyed, he silently got up from his chair, walked around

the table and snapped us sharply on the head. My sister, Mary,

sat next to Papa and was able to make faces and cause us all to

laugh and therefore be punished by a “ snip”. Papa dished up

our food, and we ate it all. But I always picked out the onions

and hid them under the edge of my plate, secretly slipping them

into my palm as I was excused from the table.

Happy Point, sketched by Laura Call about 1897. ( Courtesy

Laurie Carr Horn)

11

As the family grew and education became a problem, my father

built another two- room building, known as “ the cottage” 8; one

room was a schoolroom and the other room was a laundry,

with a long bench of tubs and a stove for “ boiling” the white

clothes. To open the school, we had to have fifteen children,

and to maintain it we had to have five to ten in daily attendance.

Children from the neighboring ranches came in to attend school.

I do not remember ever having associated with any outsiders

before that time. It was my first day of school, and I laughed so

much and so loudly that I was dismissed as being too young.

After a few weeks of public school in our yard, my father built

another schoolhouse a short distance away, where we all went

to school until we were ready for high school.

Our communication with

the outside world was the

telegraph, which reached

to Duncans Mills, the daily

stage, and the little

schooner, which carried

ranch produce to San

Francisco and brought

back provisions, seed

grain, and other ranch and

household necessities.

Papa purchased the

telegraph, and in time also

became owner of the stage

line and several schooners.

Fort Ross School class about 1890;

( front row, left to right) Ross

Morgan, George H. Call, and Vida

Morgan; ( back row) Raymond

Morgan, Carlos Call, Lucille

Morgan, Ceda Call, Ethel Morgan,

and Emma Call ( teacher).

( Courtesy Mercedes Pearce

Stafford)

12

Vessels anchored in Fort Ross Bay about 1890, ( clockwise) Albion

( scow schooner), schooner Christina Steffins, and schooner Portia.

( Courtesy Viva Leiva Tomlin collection)

Schooner day was a big day. On these days Captain Botcher of

the Euphemia, the most frequent visitor in the little sheltered

bay, was our dinner guest, and it was a great event for us.

What a thrill it was to watch the trim little vessel sail into the

bay and drop her anchor. Once the ship was anchored, some

of the crew jumped into the little boats and carried three lines

to various points on the shore, which held her steady. She was

then warped under the chute that extended out into the bay.

When the ship was secure, the apron was let down so that it

rested on the schooner’s deck and the unloading began. A line

attached to a small flat car was hitched to horses on the bluff

and lowered down the chute to the schooner. The goods and

provisions were then loaded onto the car, and the horses pulled

the car up the chute. To load the ship, a drag, pulled by a single

horse, would carry a load from its proper row on the bank

over to the chute and dump it down the incline. I watched

breathlessly, expecting to see the load jump over the deck into

the water, but it never did. When the schooner was loaded,

the apron was lifted, the ship warped out again, the lines untied,

13

and the sails unreefed and spread to the wind. Slowly at first,

but gaining momentum as she reached open water, away she

went.

On windy days, these small coastal vessels tacked up the coast,

very much as one climbs a steep hill by zigzagging back and

forth. What excitement there was when a steam vessel went by

and we could read her name with the binoculars. We grew to

know them all by the markings on their smoke funnels. But the

wind- propelled vessels were much more interesting to me— a

lesson in painstaking navigation as they came near the land and

the flapping of the sails as they went about on a tack out to sea

again. I watched them out of sight and never grew tired of

speculating on their comings and goings.

One rainy stormy day older sister and I were in the parlor. She

was practicing the piano, and I was watching. She played

Barcarolle and explained to me that it was a boat song. Just

then there was a commotion. My father came in to tell us that

a fishing boat had been driven into the bay near the chute by

the storm and was foundering. Our men were going to let the

rope ladder down from the apron on the end of the chute so

Steam schooner sketched by Laura Call about 1897. ( Courtesy

Emma Neil Denten)

14

that the fishermen could get ashore. It was raining so hard that

we could not see the ocean. But we did see two men being

half- carried past our house to the hotel, water dripping from

their hair, their clothes half torn off. A third man had dropped

off the rope and was never found. Hearing a barcarolle brings

it all back vividly.

Some days we sat on the steps of the front porch of the house

and watched the heavy wagons pass, drawn by four or six horses,

loaded with cord wood, tanbark, or posts and grape stakes.

Some of the lead horses wore bells. We could hear them before

the wagons rounded the corner. The rough looking men who

drove these wagons wore dark shirts, overalls held up by

suspenders, high boots, and slouch hats. 9 The teams went slowly

as they pulled the heavily laden wagons up the little grade before

they went down to the chute where the forest products were

unloaded and stacked in neat rows. On the return trips they

went faster. But before they climbed up the three mile road to

the ridge, the men stopped over at the store and saloon where

the drivers did their shopping and “ had a nip”.

Teamsters driving past the saloon about 1904, ( left) Tim Brown,

( right) Will Carr, later to be Laura Call’s husband. ( Courtesy Laurie

Carr Horn)

15

Team and wagon driven by Will Carr about 1900; note bells on

the horses’ harnesses. ( Courtesy Laurie Carr Horn)

Sometimes a buggy with a well- dressed man passed by at a

smart trot. And every day the stage came by, in the morning

going down the coast, and in the afternoon up again to Timber

Cove, Salt Point, and other places with alluring names.

On one of my father’s monthly trips to San Francisco, where he

had business interests, he telegraphed up to Stewarts Point and

learned that the stage going down the coast was full and he

could not have a seat. So he had the foreman hitch a span of

horses to a light buggy and drive him to Duncans Mills to catch

the train. As the buggy rattled across a bridge over a small

stream, a man rushed out from under the bridge, stopped the

buggy and asked when the stage was coming. Then, after

receiving the answer, he grabbed up a short bundle and

disappeared up the bank. When the stage came by a little later,

the man, who was later identified as Black Bart, held it up with

a short barreled shotgun. 10 Later, when my father told us the

story we shivered with apprehension. A few years afterward,

16

Black Bart held up the stage on another nearby road. Places of

the first holdup are today still known as “ Black Bart Turn” and

“ Shotgun Point”.

Since my mother had so many children, she had no time for

housework, so we had a succession of cooks, governesses, and

hired men. When we lived in the “ old” house ( the hotel), she

had Chinese servants. When we moved to the present house,

which had a men’s dining room, we had a succession of hired

help, always a man and wife. The wife did the cooking, serving

the family of twelve ( for there was also a governess) and the

men’s table of four, or more depending on the occasion. Her

husband took care of the garden, the wood used for fuel, the

horses, and the family cow.

At the dairy there were eighty or more cows, and six men who

“ did” for themselves. There was a foreman, John Doda, a

buttermaker, and four boys, including Isadore Minetti, all Swiss.

We also had a ranch foreman, John Daly, who lived with his

wife in a cottage on the place.

Some interesting characters peopled our lives such as the man

and wife who would not work on Sunday, the old woman

who chewed raw rice, the woman who brought her big dog

Cazadero- to- Sea View stage, about 1907; taken near Sea View.

( Courtesy Mercedes Pearce Stafford)

17

which was accused of killing the neighbor’s sheep, the devout

woman who let us kiss the “ little white lady” statue if we would

help with the dishes, the Army deserter who sneaked up to the

Fort with his new wife ( my father prevailed upon him to give

himself up but recommended leniency, so that was taken care

of). Then there was the old man who chased us with a knife

when we taunted him by mispronouncing his name and enjoying

his discomfort as he was cutting the carcass of the beef which

had been butchered the day before ( of course, my father did

not keep him any longer, but as I remember we did not escape

18

punishment either). And I remember Mrs. Wilson, a chubby

little Mexican woman11 smiling and happy, who was always in

the house when a new baby arrived. She told us that she brought

the babies with her, picking them out of the cabbage patch, a

hollow log, a tree stump, or out of the creek. Each time she

told us a different baby came from a different place. She lived

about a mile away, right on the edge of the woods, where I

never doubted that she could go and pick out a baby anytime

she needed one.

Fort Ross, as Laura Call knew it ( modern rendition from the original

drawing, printed in “ History of Sonoma County” by Thompson

and West, 1870s edition) 19

Looking from the schoolhouse toward the “ new” house and

the Fort about 1907. ( Courtesy Mercedes Pearce Stafford)

Then there was old Leroy Piver, whom I used to think of as a

giant, who peered at us through his bushy eyebrows and had

tobacco stained whiskers. He was over six feet tall and could

tell the most marvelous tales, which I firmly believed. Once, he

said, he sat down to rest on a log and grasped a branch which

grew out of it, but lo, the log was a big deer and it jumped up

and took him for a most marvelous ride.

To me, anyone who came from any place but Fort Ross was as

unreal as my “ fairies and ghosts”. But as I passed my childhood

days, I began to realize not only the natural beauty of this place

that was my home but the heretofore unreal existence of the

“ Russians”. I discovered that Fort Ross had a history. I learned

about the romance between the lovely Spanish girl and the

brilliant Russian officer, 12 and about Princess Helena, her home,

her personality, and perhaps her loneliness. The Aleut otter

hunters, the boat builders, the Indians who had lived outside

the stockade all came alive, and I lived with them and walked

with them. I dreamed of them by night and by day.

20

Occasionally, someone from away would come to see the Russian

chapel, and I was sometimes delegated to unlock the door. Once

a woman looked in and said, “ Oh my, it’s just an old neglected

house. What’s so wonderful about that?” and I said, “ I have to

lock the door now, so you will have to leave.” But I was thrilled

when someone would enter, cross himself, touch the walls, go

up into the loft, measure the planks on the floor, or just sit and

look at it. One day we were playing in the old granary when

some visitors came in. When one of the women looked at the

battered old banner across the make- shift stage that read “ El

Fuerto de Los Rusos” and exclaimed “ Oh, the Feast of the Roses!”

something happened to me. I was astounded that someone as

elegant looking as she was did not know the history of the Fort

and that the banner read “ The Fort of the Russians”. Never

again did I feel unimportant. How triumphant I felt. What a

wonderful height I suddenly possessed. I’d like to feel that way

once again.

Fort Ross chapel and barn about 1895; ( left to right)

W. C. Morgan, Oscar N. Charles, and Mary Call. ( Courtesy

Viva Leiva Tomlin collection)

21

At one time, Gertrude Atherton spent the winter at Fort Ross to

gather material for her story, “ The Doomswoman”. We were

not permitted to make friends with strangers, and she was a

public personage and might be “ doubtful”. She walked about

the cliffs in rainy and foggy weather dressed in long black

garments. To me she was fascinating because she was so

mysterious. She hired my brother and a boy from the hotel to

dig up one of the Russian graves. She wanted “ an officer in full

uniform”. However, my father stopped this adventure, and she

became “ rather annoyed”. I had hoped that my father would

let her do it, as I too, would have liked to have seen the officer.

The time came for us to go to San Francisco for high school.

My two older sisters and brother boarded in San Francisco and

were not happy about it. When the second pair of girls went,

one of them became very ill from homesickness. So my father

About to begin a stroll up the old Coast Road from the Fort

and the “ new” house, 1899, ( left to right) Isadore Minetti,

Laura Call, Rosa Call, Carlos Call, Lucy Call, and Ceda Call.

( Courtesy Mercedes Pearce Stafford)

22

Strolling up old Coast Road 1899, ( left to right) Laura Call,

Emma Call, Lucy Call, Rosa Call, and William H. Turk ( later to

become the first State Park Ranger at Fort Ross). ( Courtesy

Mercedes Pearce Stafford)

bought a house in San Francisco, and we all moved down there

in December and stayed until the first of March. Most of us

hated it. Only when we saw the hills and redwoods as we rode

the narrow gauge railroad through Occidental to Cazadero on

the way home to Fort Ross did we begin to feel better.

Two of the hotel keeper’s girls were about my age and from

them I learned some very interesting things that I knew were

talked about by the women, because they always stopped talking

about them when I came into the room. Ethel Morgan was

nearest my age, in years, but twice as old in sophistication. Ethel

and my sister Mercedes and I generally got something to eat

and then found a very “ secret” place, most often the old

summerhouse where Ethel told us stories of “ real things” that

happened in the hotel, but that we must never, never tell anyone.

During this time we began going to school in San Francisco

every winter, and Ethel had lots to tell me. 13 We came back

one spring to find a boy had come to live at the hotel and work

for his board. I never met him since we were not allowed out

23

of our yard, but Ethel convinced me that he was “ Prince

Charming” in the flesh. One day she told me in tears that her

father had sent him away, but he had promised he was coming

back for her some dark night and she was going to climb out of

the window and run away with him. One dark night he did

come back, but not for her. He sawed the lock out of the

saloon door, took money, a gun, and liquor, and stole away

again. The dogs knew him so they made no noise. He was

later caught and spent some time in jail. We never heard of

him again.

We girls were more grown up now and began being less

inventive and patterning ourselves more on girls we had met at

school. We still went after abalone, trout, and clams, and

strawberries, blackberries, and fruit, but our horizons had

widened. The circle that was Fort Ross now had roads leading

out of it that held romance, adventure, and people. We were

allowed to go horseback riding, to go to dances, and to have

company for the summer from San Francisco. Horses then

Off to explore the countryside August 1906, ( left to right) Kathryn

Kaiser Call on Rex, Flora McLaughlin on Betty, Ceda Call on Prince,

and Laura Call on Lindy. ( Courtesy Laurie Carr Horn)

24

Laura and Lindy September 1906. ( Courtesy Laurie Carr Horn)

became important to us. We explored the country on horseback

and knew all the trails and byways. Some of my fondest

memories are of Prince, hard- mouthed but manageable; the little

mustang, Gypsy, who had to trot to keep up; Oro, half crazy

but spirited and tireless; and my beloved little sorrel mare, Lindy,

snappish and balky, but a joy to ride, for she was sound in wind

and limb, and a singlefooter to boot.

Looking back, we had so much in our lives. Fort Ross was the

world when I was young. The forest- topped mountains to the

eastern horizon and the ocean before us— a private, romantic

world. Some days I would sit on the front porch and look at

the ever- moving, ever- changing ocean, which swept across the

entire western horizon, wondering what lay beyond it. Where

did it all go, that romantic glamour, the wonderful sunsets from

Sunset Rock, the limitless sea whence the Russians had vanished?

It’s so long ago, my childhood, but never gone from my dreams

and memories.

25

At Old Fort Ross

by Laura Call Carr, 1899

At old Fort Ross I musing stand

The sea, the wood, on either hand

And all around seems good and grand

and wondrous fair

The rising moon, so full and bright

Shines down benignly from her height

Upon the ocean, sleeping white

and silvery there.

Calm peace the moonlit air doth fill.

Upon the quaint old church so still

Is outlined against the wooded hill

a slender cross.

And past the gulch, upon the steep

Where Russian warriors now sleep

A tall shaft doth its vigil keep

at old Fort Ross.

The watch towers crumbling with decay

Lean where their builders sailed away

With low- bowed heads they seem to pray

o’er soulfelt loss.

Across the waves on far Point Reyes

I see the faithful lighthouse blaze:

But for an instant falls its rays

on old Fort Ross.

Symbolic of our hopes and fears

Of joys and sorrows, smiles and tears

The never- ending lapse of years

the wild waves toss.

Wherever I may chance to roam

In crowded street, by ocean’s foam

My heart will still remember home

and old Fort Ross…

26

Footnotes

1 The Rotchev House.

2 The Officials’ Quarters.

3 The granary was the Russian warehouse.

4 The summerhouse and garden probably had their origin at the time

Princess Helena Gagarina Rotchev lived at Fort Ross ( 1836- 1841). The

Princess was the wife of the last Russian manager at Fort Ross, Alexander

Gavrilovich Rotchev.

5 The Call House – the portion of this house that was the kitchen and

two dining rooms was originally part of the old buildings, which were

added to the Russian buildings by owners previous to the Calls.

6 The schooner, J. Eppinger, wrecked in 1901.

7 Founder, along with his brother, Asa, of Algona, Iowa ( 1854); q. v., Call

State Park, Algona, Iowa.

8 Today called the Cottage.

9 Laura ultimately married one of the stalwart fellows, William Henry

Carr, in 1907.

10 A notorious highwayman in California in the late 1870s. On August 3,

1877 he held up the stage that ran between Point Arena and Duncans

Mills at Timber Gulch, a spot 2.5 miles down the coast from Fort Ross.

He left a poem at the site (“ I’ve labored long and hard for bread/ For

honor and for riches/ But on my corns too long you’ve tred/ You fine-haired

sons of bitches”) to which he added a postscript: “ Driver, give my

respects to our friend, the other driver; but I really had a notion to hang

my old disguise hat on his weather eye.” The highwayman signed the

poem “ Black Bart, the PO8”, thus identifying himself for the first time.

The “ other driver” is conventionally thought to refer to Mr. Call’s driver.

Black Bart’s “ disguise hat” was a flour sack over his head.

11 Mrs. Charles K. Wilson; she may have been a Kashaya Pomo Indian.

Before Russian times, the Kashaya Pomo village at Fort Ross was named

May- tee- nee.

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12 Doña Maria de la Concepción Arguello, daughter of José Arguello, the

commandant of the Presidio of San Francisco in 1806, and Nikolai

Petrovich Rezanov, Imperial Chamberlain and Chief Executive of the

Russian American Company.

13 About this time Laura, Ethel, Mercedes, and the other young people

collaborated to put out a series of handwritten newspapers they called

“ The Ocean Wave,” which chronicled local, national, and international

events.

Editor’s Note: Laura’s manuscript was written in sections over a

six- year period. Consequently, there were repetitions within

sections and portions that were more properly related to other

sections. For continuity, the manuscript was dismantled and

then reordered, and some transitions and clarifying information

were inserted. These actions preserved the original wording

with very little change.

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THE CALL FAMILY

Laura Call Carr was one of nine children born to Mercedes de

Leiva and George Washington Call, who bought Fort Ross in

1873 and operated it as a ranch, shipping port, and business

community.

George was born in Ohio in 1829, the sixth of eight children.

His father died when he was four years old, and when he was

14 he was put out on his own by his stepfather. Young George

worked his way through the Midwest, clerking, driving cattle,

rafting lumber, cutting wood, and even teaching school. In

1852, he headed for California, joining a cattle drive from St.

Joseph, Missouri. When he arrived, his capital, besides his “ gun,

pistol, and one spare woolen shirt, and one pair of blankets,

was one dollar.”

With a modest stake earned in the gold mining area, George set

out for Humboldt Bay where he turned a profit in logging. By

1855, he had enough funds to move to San Francisco and buy a

building that soon thereafter housed the popular menagerie of

Grizzly Adams ( with George as Grizzly’s silent partner). In 1858,

he sold his business interests and left for South America,

purchasing a schooner and taking with him two grizzly bears

from Adams’ collection to perform in bear and bull fights.

Leaving the bears in Peru, he continued his travels throughout

South America where he met Henry Meiggs, who was infamous

for his former business activities in San Francisco and Mendocino.

George arranged subcontract work with “ Honest Harry” to build

railroads in Chile and the rugged Andes in Peru. In 1865, he

settled in Chile, where he soon married and then established

that country’s first gunnysack factory.

Mercedes, born in Chile in 1850, was 15 years old when she

met and married George, who was then 36. Mercedes was an

orphan who was being raised by relatives— her mother had died

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of pneumonia when Mercedes was quite young, and her father

of a fall from a cliff while trying to retrieve her pet sea gull. To

create an introduction to this young beauty, George purposely

stepped on and tore Mercedes’ dress at a dance. He later

appeared at the bakery where she worked with a new dress

over his arm. This tactic worked, leading to their marriage in

1866.

After the birth of their third child, the Calls sailed to San Francisco

in 1872. Shortly afterward, George purchased 2,500 acres at

Fort Ross, later adding another 5,500 acres. Under George’s

management, Fort Ross thrived. In addition to shipping and

ranching ( principally dairying) operations, the old buildings of

the Fort were converted and used as a hotel, dance hall, saloon,

store, post office, and telegraph office.

At Fort Ross, the family increased to include nine children: Ana

Rosa, or “ Nin” ( 1867), Emma Angelina ( 1869), and Oscar

Ambrose ( 1870) born in Chile; Mary Addie ( 1872) born in San

Francisco; and Lucy Minerva ( 1874), Laura ( 1877), Mercedes

( 1878), Carlos Asa ( 1880), and George Harry ( 1882) born at

Fort Ross. All completed high school in San Francisco. In

addition, all the girls received a teaching certificate from the

San Francisco Normal School and the boys a surveying certificate

from Van der Naillen’s School of San Francisco. Laura and Lucy

both wanted to go on to the University of California ( Laura in

law and Lucy in mathematics), but their father refused them

permission –“ My girls will be teachers and my boys, engineers.”

Some of the girls taught school at Fort Ross ( Mary for 14 years)

and elsewhere, but the boys were never employed as surveyors.

Two of the girls became members of the first San Francisco

Conservatory of Music, Emma playing the violin and Lucy, the

mandolin. Most of the girls married; some stayed in the Fort

Ross area, acquiring and helping run ranches with their husbands,

while others moved to the Santa Rosa and San Francisco areas.

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Oscar left home when he was 21, never to be heard from again.

After their father’s death in 1907, Carlos and George took over

management of the shipping business, and they each also took

over management of half of the ranch until their deaths, leasing

the rights from their sisters.

Mercedes survived her husband and, among other activities,

occupied her time creating a garden of renowned beauty, which

flourished until her death in 1933. Many of her plants were

imported from South America, and the garden’s development

included her own hybrid pelargoniums. She was a friend of

Luther Burbank, and was one of the earliest members of the

American Fuschia Society.

Laura, known to her family and friends as “ Lol”, felt that her

four older sisters were much more beautiful and talented than

she. Her hand- me- down clothes ( including poorly fitting shoes)

contributed to this perception. She also suffered from eyestrain

and was not a good student in grammar school, although she

was naturally drawn to reading and writing. Her poor eyesight

was finally discovered and corrected with glasses, and then

reading and writing became an even more important part of

her life. She wrote poetry and articles, many of which were

published. She also took drawing lessons, and she became an

accomplished pianist. Her love of the outdoors and nature was

reflected in her writings, drawings, and activities as an amateur

botanist.

In 1907, Lol married teamster William ( Will) Henry Carr, one

of those “ rough looking men” in her narrative. They lived at

the “ Green House”, on the ridge some three miles from Fort

Ross, where Will ran a drayage business and Lol cooked for the

hired men and ran the household. Their first child, William

( Bill) Call, was born there in 1910.

When it came time for Bill to go to school, the Carr family

moved to Oakland where Will bought and ran a house- moving

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business. Two other children were born there, Ross Uhl in 1913

and Laura Channell in 1918. The family then moved to

Sebastopol in 1920, where, as the children grew and were able

to help with the burdensome chores, Laura began to have spare

time again in which to write poems and stories and articles for

local publications; she also created a beautiful garden, following

her mother’s example. Laura’s life was abruptly altered in 1932

when her son, Ross, was killed in a motorcycle accident and

Will, unable to cope with the loss and in financial difficulty, left

his family, never to return. To make ends meet, Laura took in

boarders, and the surviving children took after- school jobs.

Then, in 1945, Laura’s remaining son, Bill, a major in the U. S.

Army Corps of Engineers, was killed in action in Germany.

Deeply as she felt these losses, in time Laura recovered her keen

Call children about 1900 ( except Oscar, about 1880).

( Courtesy Viva Leiva Tomlin collection)

32

sense of life and spent the remainder of her life sharing with her

family and friends her poetry and music, her love of flowers

and nature, her childhood secrets and tricks, and her memories

of Fort Ross.

Laura wrote this reminiscence between 1960 and her death in

1966. It was written with the encouragement and support of

her granddaughter, Emma Nell Denten, and is one of the few

written accounts of life at Fort Ross when it was operated as a

ranch.

The Calls were the last of the Ranch Era owners of Fort Ross

who came after the Russians, and they, like many others, came

to have a special attachment to “ the Fort”. While they, too,

modified and used the old buildings, they also began the process

of trying to protect the historic buildings from disintegration.

Their most significant work was the refurbishment of the chapel,

which was subsequently used from time to time for services in

the late 1890s and 1900s. But the decay of the old buildings

was too extensive for the Calls to rectify, so George W. Call

accepted the offer of the California Landmarks Committee to

buy the Fort in 1903 as a solution to save the site. By 1906,

after passing through William Randolph Hearst’s hands, the Fort

was deeded to the organization that was to become the

California Department of Parks and Recreation. Shortly

afterward, the great earthquake wrought severe damage that

took many years and great effort to repair.

In 1962, Fort Ross State Historic Park was designated as a

National Historic Landmark, and it was about that time that

the State of California began to acquire more property from the

Call family to add to it. In 1979, the family disposed of the last

of their ranch holdings at Fort Ross, thus ending an era of over

100 years.

F. Kaye Tomlin

San Mateo, California

January 1987

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ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

Call Family consultants: Emma Nell Denten, Laurie Carr Horn,

Mercedes Pearce Stafford, F. Kaye Tomlin

Editor/ Book Design: Phyllis F. Dorset

Graphic Design:

Russell H. Griswold - front cover, Fort Ross as Laura

Call Knew It ( p. 19); and map inside back cover

Frieda Tomlin - Photo setting for Call children

Typesetting & Layout: McLean Associates

Editing Update and Computer Layout for Second Printing, 2004:

Lyn Kalani

Southeast blockhouse sketched by Laura Call about 1897.

( Courtesy Laurie Carr Horn)

34

Fort Ross and environs.