ONCE THERE WAS A PLACE CALLED BELLEVUE

A century ago there were scores of tiny communities in Sonoma County that appeared on no map, yet everyone knew where they were. Explored here earlier was Hinton, which was large enough to have its own post office for a time; nearby was Vine Hill, Trenton and Peachland. And then there was a string of farms south of Santa Rosa known as Bellevue.

You’ve passed the ghost of Bellevue countless times without knowing it. (See map.) When driving south on Highway 101, the Hearn Ave. exit leads to “auto row” along Corby Ave. After the last car dealership, the road takes a sharp turn to the west. That’s Bellevue Avenue, a desolate mix of gritty homes and industrial buildings near the highway, but nicer a few blocks further down the street where Elsie Allen High School can be found. On the east side of the freeway there’s the other part of Bellevue Ave. off of Santa Rosa Avenue; this spur is part of a modern subdivision, with landscaped streets, a park, and a grade school, a world apart from its poor relation on the other side of the freeway.

It was the construction of the highway that split Bellevue, the state of California seizing land for the road under eminent domain. The last we hear of Bellevue is in a 1957 Press Democrat article about a jury trial where an 84-year-old Bellevue farmer and the state fought over the fair market value for his place. The state’s attorney argued it wasn’t worth much because it was only good for truck-farm agriculture; witnesses for the farmer said it had potential for an industrial and/or subdivision site, and, of course, that’s exactly what the two wings of Bellevue became.

The 1908 item below jokes that residents of the “lively settlement” of Bellevue were having so many children that they might rename the community after President Theodore Roosevelt, who held nutty concerns about “race suicide” unless “old Colonial stock” white Americans kept their birthrates up. As discussed in an earlier essay, Teddy’s views weren’t really Nazi-ish, but awkwardly expressed encouragement of American exceptionalism.

MAY CHANGE NAME TO “ROOSEVELT CORNERS”

Bellevue, the lively settlement just south of Santa Rosa, is establishing new records with alarming frequency. They not only raise splendid fruit, large poultry and many fine eggs from the flocks there, but in other lines they also excel. Wednesday night Mrs. Harry J. Barnett presented her husband with twins–two handsome baby girls, and the proud father is receiving congratulations on the momentous event in a dignified manner. Eleven children have been born in that vicinity within less than a year and the residents declare there is nothing resembling race suicide in that section. It is in serious contemplation to change the name of Bellevue to “Roosevelt Corners,” in honor of Teddy and his race suicide theories. The mother and daughters are doing nicely, and Mr. Barnett is certainly the happiest man in seventeen states over the important event.

– Santa Rosa Republican, October 15, 1908

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THE KILLER RACCOON OF THIRD STREET

Sounds of a spring evening, downtown Santa Rosa, 1908: Crickets chirping, horses clopping, men blasting guns skywards into trees, blindly, with no light for aiming except for flickering candles and lanterns. It was probably a good idea to stay safely indoors that night.

The quarry was a formerly pet raccoon, who had escaped and developed a taste for caged chicken. As it wasn’t mentioned that this ‘coon was minus a leg, it presumably was another animal than the one shot out of a tree by a cop back in 1905.

The story ended with a boy selling the dead raccoon in Santa Rosa’s little Chinatown, but given that many old-timers from the Southern U.S. were quite fond of raccoon recipes, the enterprising young man might have made more by selling the carcass to a cook along McDonald Avenue.

COON HUNT IN THE HEART OF TOWN
Animal Treed and Killed in the Grounds of the Hahman Residence on Third Street

There was a coon hunt right in the heart of Santa Rosa at a late hour on Friday night and the game was treed and finally dropped into earth.

For some time the tell tale nightly slaughter in chicken roosts, particularly on Second and Third streets, and the knowledge that the animal was abroad in the land, having escaped from a pen were it had been kept as a pet, has kept householders on the qui vive and officers and civilians have been on the lookout for Mr. Coon.

About 10:30 o’clock Friday night a commotion in the chicken house in the grounds of the residence of Mrs. Henrietta A. Hahmann on Third street–a place previously visited by the animal–warned members of the family that the four-footed prowler was around making a another call. The fine Plymouth Rock hens, tasted once before, had called back an appetite for more.

A telephone message to police headquarters for Chief of Police Fred Rushmore and Police Officer I. N. Lindley to the scene. There was an exciting chase and the animal took to a tree. It was some time before the hiding place of the chicken thief could be located and then Chief Rushmore took a shot into the leafy bower and missed in the uncertain light afforded by candles and lanterns. Policemen Lindley joined in the fusillade. C. Louis Kolf who lives a little way further down the street, and is a great hunter, was attracted to the place and he brought his rifle with him. The rifle proved Mr. Coon’s undoing. Rushmore took aim and this time the bullet found a billet in the animal’s anatomy, and it fell with a dull thud to the ground. Another bullet from Kolf and all was over.

A lad with an eye to business and a recollection that Chinese make mysterious dishes with just such pot luck, came along. He shouldered the chicken-fed coon and wended his way to Chinatown. There was much rejoicing in Mongolian quarters. He found a willing purchaser and before long the aroma of cooking with doubtless a coon-chicken flavor, came floating out of the shack in which the feast was in course of preparation.

– Press Democrat, May 10, 1908

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