1905

DECEMBER, 1905 POLICE LOG

Jeff Elliott Leave a comment

Rarely did the Santa Rosa papers print police logs, but here’s a summary of Dec. 1905 arrest statistics; interesting that three of 38 arrests were for verbal offenses. Presumably “driving on walk” meant a buggy with a horse — automobile operators were still called “chauffeurs.”

At the Marshal’s Office

During the month of December many matters passed through the office of City Marshall Severson. There were 38 arrests made, for charges as follows: Drunk, 25; riding bicycle on sidewalk, 1; peddling without license, 1; using language to provoke quarrel, 2; profane language, 1; driving on walk, 1; misdemeanors, 7. The offenders were taken before City Recorder Bagley who administered justice in the following doses. Fines, 20; jailed, 11; dismissed, 5; two yet to be disposed of. Receipts from selling licenses and use of city ambulance, $18.50; taxes collected, $1792.95.

– Santa Rosa Republican, January 5, 1906

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SO LONG, GONE TO MEET JESUS

Jeff Elliott Leave a comment

Right after Christmas, 1905, the Norton family of Santa Rosa sold their home, said their goodbyes, and headed east with their three children to meet the Lord in the upper Midwest. But the Nortons apparently hadn’t gotten the memo: The 1906 Dies Irae had been called off, and now the prophecy was an indefinite promise that Jesus would be coming back Real Soon Now. Before 1916, definitely.

The Nortons were bound for the House of David, a religious commune in Benton Harbor, Michigan that was founded just two years earlier by Benjamin Purnell, a charismatic Kentucky preacher who claimed that he and his wife were jointly the seventh and last “Messenger” who would presage the second coming of Christ. In 1902, Purnell prophesied that the millennium would come four years from then — later upped to 1916 or when all the signs would be in place, whichever came first — and that his “elect” (144,000 men and 144,000 women) would, at that instant, become immortals in the flesh. His followers were always seeking portents that those good End Times were really nigh, and they celebrated on hearing news of the 1906 earthquake. One wonders how the Nortons must have felt about the boast that a church leader had “called down” the quake, which also meant death for so many of their former neighbors in Santa Rosa.

The House of David never came close to the tipping point of that many converts; at most, there were around a thousand members in Benton Harbor (there were 500 living there at the time of the California quake, according to a newspaper account). But despite the smaller than expected numbers, the enterprise thrived, becoming almost entirely self-sufficient with a dairy, fruit and vegetable farms, a state-of-the-art sawmill, a jam and jelly factory, and much more. The operation was also profitable, thanks to all that free labor provided by converts (as well as the requirement that new acolytes, such as the family from Santa Rosa, turn over all earthly possessions), and the House of David would come to sprawl over 100,000 acres of prime land in southwest Michigan.

Articles on the “Flying Rollers,” as they were dubbed by newspapers of the day (it’s an obscure Old Testament reference unrelated to the “Holy Roller” nickname for Pentecostals), loved to mention that men were forbidden to shave or cut their hair and sometimes offered drawings, helpfully educating readers how a person of European descent might look like with long hair. But except for those who chanced to cross paths with Purnell’s small band of missionaries, few outsiders had actual contact with members of the faith. That all changed, starting in the 1920s.

After WWI, Americans were most likely to read about the House of David in their sports pages, as the church fielded a semi-pro baseball team that barnstormed around the country. Although players were an unusual sight with their often waist-length hair braided into a tight ponytail, it was a serious team, good enough to even win exhibition games against major league teams. They also wowed fans between innings with a fast-paced version of catch they called the “Pepper Game” — think of the Harlem Globetrotters with a baseball (short film clips here).

If you didn’t follow sports in the 1920s, perhaps you danced to the music of one of the House of David touring bands (although the musicians weren’t allowed to dance themselves). Both male and female bands hopped around the country, often playing large halls. The ten-piece jazz group, “House of David Syncopep Serenaders” even appeared at Harlem’s legendary Cotton Club.

But if you were anywhere near the upper Midwest, you probably thought of the House of David as a destination amusement park that attracted 200,000 visitors a year during the mid-1920s. The all-free entertainment included a vaudeville stage, bandstands for the House of David musicians, a 3,500 seat baseball field for the House of David non-touring teams, bowling alleys (they invented an automatic bowling pin setter) a miniature railway system with 11 rideable trains, and souvenir stands where artisan treasures and trinkets in jewelry, ceramics, leather or wood could be purchased and often customized with your name. And of course, there was an auditorium welcoming visitors in for religious lectures.

Give the Purnells their due; in only fifteen years or so, they transformed a fringe religious community that newspapers had pigeonholed as a “queer cult” into an entertainment empire worth a fortune. Their apocalyptic dogma was no longer mentioned in the press, and as far as I can tell, no newspaper mentioned that embarrassing detail about Jesus’ failure to show in 1916. Not that their religious past was entirely forgotten: As Purnell began collecting animals for his amusement park zoo, some papers printed rumors that the colony was building a modern Noah’s Ark. Ummm…..could they know something we don’t?

Legal troubles began as early as 1907, when the state of Michigan found that the House of David was less a religious association than a business, and forced it to change legal status. There were vague accusations against Purnell of “immorality” (read: statutory rape) from 1909 onwards, and by 1916, former members were charging in court that he was having sex with teenage girls, afterwards assigning them to marry randomly selected men in the colony. Of course, intimacy with their new husbands was forbidden because celibacy was a central tenet in Purnell’s gospel.

Similar suits followed, and Purnell went into hiding for four years. It later came out that he never left the compound during that time, but was an invalid under the care of a small cadre of trusted aides. Even most of his followers apparently thought he was away; it would be bad if the true believers saw the Seventh Messenger — a man they believed immortal — wasting away. Benjamin Purnell was fatally ill with a combination of TB, diabetes, and heart disease.

A 3-month trial in 1927 ensued, and the judge’s comprehensive 191-page decision (fully reprinted in the Benton Harbor newspaper and generally summarized in a period survey on religious cults) revealed that the House of David had many skeleton closets, and might have been more accurately called the Stalag of David. Children were poorly educated (Purnell’s own son could not read or write); members were not allowed to leave the grounds without passes from the office; all outgoing mail was read and censored; the women who managed housing, called “sweepers,” were expected to eavesdrop and inform on fellow members; detailed records were kept of the required monthly personal confessions; “scorpions” who dared to leave the cult were forced to sign blanket affidavits asserting there was no wrongdoing.

Most damning, however, was discovery that members were given “perjury books” instructing them how to testify regarding questions asked about “Benjamin and the girls.”

As it came out at the trial, a select group of girls age 12 and older always lived in rooms next to Purnell, and he socialized exclusively with them. Thirteen testified that he had coerced them into sexual intercourse via religious arguments, such as he was really “testing their faith” or suggesting they would become immortal as well. Judge Fead wrote in his judgement: “The general trend of the girls toward Benjamin’s quarters was too pronounced and regular to be entirely accidental….This is not true of all the girls but there was a general trend which brought a large number of them to Benjamin’s residence. It was not at all so with the boys…The conclusion is that Benjamin, from the founding of the colony, has had immoral relations with a large number of girls and women of the colony, and that such relations have been imposed on them by the force of Benjamin’s position and power as spiritual and temporal leader.”

The court decreed that the commune was to placed into receivership and Purnell banned from the premises, members allowed to visit him only under “proper protective conditions.” Purnell died eleven days later.

Your obl. Believe-it-or-Not footnote: In 1960, a sensationalized account of Purnell’s sexcapades appeared in a dimestore novel, “King of the Harem Heaven,” which was quickly pulled from the shelves after the colony sued the publisher for libel. But in 1972, Purnell’s great grandson was convicted of murder, despite a defense psychiatrist testifying that the defendant had read that book over and over as a youth, coming to identify with his ancestor as a “powerful, smart, and somewhat magical man,” the boy not realizing that the author was portraying Purnell as a psychopath.

SANTA ROSANS WELCOME SAVIOR
Are Preparing to Leave for Michigan Where They Will Meet Their Lord

There will be an exodus from this city Wednesday of parties who are going to meet the Lord. There are several Santa Rosans in the party and they are starting for Benton Harbor, Michigan, where they claim the Lord will appear shortly after the New Year, and where they hope to welcome the Heavenly Visitor. They are now disposing of their property and will hasten to the eastern city to extend a welcome to the Coming King.

The pilgrimage from this city will be headed by Mr. and Mrs. C. J. Norton, and they are very enthusiastic over the trip that they soon will take. The advent of the Savior has become their chief topic of conversation, and they are kept busy answering the various questions that are propounded to them by those who are curious about the purpose of their proposed trip east. It has been revealed to them that the Lord will reveal himself to a company of people composed of 144,000 of those who have been faithful, and that they will be the ones who are permitted to remain on the earth and inherit the same with all other good things that have been prepared for the truly good.

These Mr. Norton says, are the members of the house and Lineage of David who have been dispersed over the earth because of sin and now the time has arrived when they shall be gathered as the chosen ones, and those who do not avail themselves of this opportunity will be doomed to everlasting punishment. Mr. and Mrs. Norton expect to be joined on the trip by large companies from many cities of the state, including Sacramento, Oakland, San Francisco, Los Angeles and other points. The trip will be made with considerable anticipation, as would naturally follow from those who are anticipating the final coming of the Lord to gather in those who have gone to meet him, and who are looking for his coming.

Santa Rosa people will doubtless regret the loss of Mr. and Mrs. Norton from the community, but will rejoice that they are going to be privileged to meet their Lord, and hope that they may be found in readiness when the Master comes to reward his servants “whether it be noon or night.”

– Santa Rosa Republican, December 26, 1905

DEPARTED TO MEET THE LORD
Mr. and Mrs. Charles J. Norton Have Gone to Benton Harbor, Mich., Expecting to See Savior

Mr. and Mrs. Charles Norton departed on the afternoon train over the Southern Pacific en route to Benton Harbor, Michigan. They are going to meet the Lord as they believe, in that city, according to the story published in the Republican several evenings since. Mr. and Mrs. Norton are accompanied by their three young children, and were accompanied on the first stage of their journey celestial to Oakland pier by a number of relatives.

The people who left this afternoon are under the impression that the Lord will reveal himself to them and to his chosen people, numbering 144,000, at the Michigan city, early in the coming year. They have an abiding faith in this belief, and in carrying out their plans sacrificed their property here on Boyce street to obtain the finances needed to travel half way across the continent.

Mr. and Mrs. Norton assert that others from this city will also journey to meet the Lord in Michigan, and they expect to make their home there for some time to come. It is the belief of these people that they will be permitted to live and inherit the earth after the Lord has manifested himself to them in an unmistakable manner. The Santa Rosans believe they will be enaged [sic] from mortal to immortal on obtaining the expected vision of the Savior of Mankind.

– Santa Rosa Republican, December 28, 1905

Still Await His Coming

Letters have been received from Mr. and Mrs. Charles A. Norton who recently left here for Bar Harbor [sic], Mich., to join others of the same faith to “meet the Lord.” The letters are dated from the “House of David” and tell of the colony of the “Lord’s chosen” who have gathered from all parts of the earth to await His coming. The colony is said to have all the conveniences that “modern science and ingenuity has invented from the greatest to the smallest.”

– Press Democrat, January 17, 1906

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1905 WRAPUP

Jeff Elliott Leave a comment

This survey of the 1905 Santa Rosa newspapers ends with 72 posts, 63 on them on distinct topics, more or less.

This was the year that Santa Rosa made first strides away from its rougher Wild West days. Electricity was almost reliable and telephones were now so ubiquitous that “Hello Books” were needed to lookup all the numbers. Autos became a familiar site around town, and Santa Rosa could now boast of having 21 cars along with a real gas station. Some downtown streets were paved, and the City of the Roses established a speed limit of 8MPH, slower around corners. The electric line — formally known as the Petaluma and Santa Rosa Railway — was established, linking central Sonoma County with a modern little interurban trolley system, though the rail link to downtown was connected only after a violent confrontation with the steam railroad in the Battle of Sebastopol Avenue.

Luther Burbank was at or near the pinnacle of his fame in 1905, having been awarded an annual grant from the prestigious Carnegie Institution for scientific research — but true to character, Burbank was found pitching pseudo-science nonsense to the local horticultural society a couple of weeks later. This was also the happiest year for Jack London, who bought his celebrated ranch outside of Glen Ellen and married his true love, Charmian. Jack drew attention when he rode into Santa Rosa that May on horseback, accompanied by the Alaskan Husky that was his inspiration for his current novel, White Fang.

There was great excitement nationwide about that summer’s Lewis and Clark Centennial Exposition in Portland, and a civic group was formed to “work to advance our Imperial Sonoma” at the fair. But aside from some olive oil sent by the Rincon Heights Olive Co. and chicken hatchers sent from the Petaluma Incubator Company, Sonoma County was conspicuously absent among California communities and regions appearing at the fair.

There were far fewer notices of business trips or other travel by Mr/Mrs. Oates in the papers than in 1904, presumably because they were settling into their new grand house, which was introduced to Santa Rosa via a unique newspaper feature that read like a birth announcement. A housewarming and house full of guests followed, surely occupying the family long into summer. While Oates was one of the lawyers representing the electric railway in its conflict with the steam line, his only other newsworthy lawyerly appearance that year was when he represented a silent consortium that bought the entire Santa Rosa bond issue to the astonishment of other bidders. And finally, something of his human side was shown in a nonsense item about Oates and his neighbor launching a backyard “skyship.”

Reviewing the 1905 blog postings, I’m chagrined to find that it has taken me one whole year to write about this one year in Santa Rosa. At this rate, I’ll never make it to the era of the Comstock family, for which these early 20th century years are mostly prelude. But it’s impossible to read these old newspapers without wanting to retell at least a few of the stories long forgotten in those pages. How everyone met downtown on Saturday summer nights for shopping and a sing-along with the band on the courthouse balcony; how the same downtown turned into a little Las Vegas when the ponies were running at the track, with illegal gambling everywhere — and how there was a running conspiracy between the newspapers and authorities to keep quiet about this to protect Santa Rosa’s “good name abroad.”

Some stories are so odd as to defy belief without an original article as supporting evidence; I would have scoffed if told that robin pot pie was considered a tasty dish by many — but a local man was caught smuggling a box of birds to a San Francisco restaurant. A balloonist visited Santa Rosa and gave an exhibition that included parachuting, but alas, the balloon-jumping aeronaut here was a young woman; until recently, his act had featured a parachuting monkey named “Jocko.” (Parachute or no, I imagine there’s only so many times that one can hurl a monkey from a terrifying height into a crowd of spectators before some sort of tragedy ensues.) And then there was the local motorist ticketed for speeding who later made a citizen’s arrest of the same policeman, forcing the cop to arrest himself for spitting on the sidewalk. I wonder if Robert Ripley, then 14 years old, remembered some of these oddities when he was inspired to start his “Believe it or Not” column of oddities.

Other stories must be written to set the record straight. Chief among these in 1905 was Sonoma County’s awful role in the eugenics movement, where thousands of young people were forcibly sterilized at the State Home in Glen Ellen, women for excuses such as being “sexually delinquent” and men for being “passive sodomists.” Almost nothing has been written about these horrors by local historians.

But as this blog sails into the Earthquake Year, let’s look back on old 1905 and all fake a sneeze as an excuse to get drunk with a grandchild, thus helping the youngster “cultivate the habit” for the “glow of health” (amazingly, this ad was not a one-off; the next year the brewer produced an even grander version showing grandpa looking decidedly more squiffy than sniffly).

And with brew in hand, let’s contemplate again my favorite story of the year, the one about the motorist who arrests the cop. Did I mention that the policeman was spitting on the sidewalk at night — and during a downpour? You couldn’t make this stuff up, really.

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