afasign

A RED CARPET FOR THE WILD BLUE YONDER

Forget Charles Schulz and Peanuts; forget Luther Burbank and his garden. Forget tourism, with its spas and wine tasting (and for that matter, forget boutique wineries). Santa Rosa and the surrounding area are known for one thing alone – it’s the home of the Air Force Academy.

Oh, you say, that’s in Colorado Springs – and notice how quickly the name of that city comes to mind – but in 1950 the Academy didn’t yet exist and its future location was very much up in the air (sorry), with Santa Rosa among the top contenders. The Chamber of Commerce waged a year-long campaign to bring it here, even though it quickly turned neighbor against neighbor and pitted the city against the county Farm Bureau.

When the new year of 1950 began, the whereabouts of a future Air Force Academy was a much discussed topic nationwide. There were already 150 communities in the running, in part because the search criteria were so broad. Col. Freeman Tandy, chairman of the task force screening possible sites in California, said basic requirements were that it be within fifty miles of a major city, be close to all means of transportation, have utilities available and sport natural beauty. He explained they wanted a place suitable for a university more than an airfield with lots of noisy flight operations.

And there was this: Colonel Tandy said the government expected to spend up to $300M to acquire land and build the campus – the equivalent of spending $3.2 BILLION today. When the Santa Rosa Chamber of Commerce invited the selection board to come here and look around we can only hope there was no obvious drool on the letter.

A survey team from the Army Corps of Engineers was slated to visit in mid-January but there was one teensy problem: We hadn’t settled on a location to show them.

With only three days to spare, the Santa Rosa Chamber met with the Petaluma Chamber and agreed they would offer a site between the cities. “It’s now a Sonoma county project,” said the Petaluma Chamber.

The property was directly across from modern-day SSU on the east side of Petaluma Hill Road. The Air Force was looking for 9,000 acres and the four square miles would be less than a third of that, so maybe they were counting a large chunk of land on the west side of the road – there was no Rohnert Park at the time, remember. It was pointed out that buildings could be on the scenic slope of Sonoma Mountain and part of the site was “a natural football bowl.” Sell the sizzle, not the steak.

When the two guys arrived for the tour, a throng of local poobahs swarmed over them like a pack of dumpster raccoons. Reps from the city and/or Chamber for Santa Rosa, Petaluma, Cotati, Forestville and Sebastopol trailed the caravan driving up and down Petaluma Hill Road and out to Crane Canyon Road – although they couldn’t see much because of heavy rain. Then it was off to Santa Rosa and its lush Topaz Room for lunch and fine speeches about how everyone thought it would be the bestest choice the Air Force could ever make. Afterwards they all piled back into cars and went off to see the “Sonoma County Airport tract.”

Normally you’d expect it would be the last anyone heard of a project like this; competition was fierce from more prominent cities in California and other states in the West. Then suddenly the North Bay became a top contender because General “Hap” Arnold happened to die right then.

Hap Arnold was the indisputable father of the U.S. Air Force. Besides wrenching it away from the Army as its own military branch (no small task, that), he won highest praise for leadership during WWII, winning the air war against both Germany and Japan. Hap retired to his 35-acre “El Rancho Feliz” on the eastern side of Sonoma Mountain and wrote a 1948 article for National Geographic, “My Life in the Valley of the Moon” which spoke of his contentment there. The Santa Rosa-Petaluma site might have been easily extended to encompass his little homestead. He also kept an office at Hamilton Field.

Our congressman lobbied the Air Force Secretary to bring here the “Arnold Air Academy” or somesuch, and letter writers to the Press Democrat urged we take the initiative, beginning with a “General Arnold Day” countywide holiday and a military parade, maybe. We could also start naming things after him – which we did a few months later when the Board of Supervisors changed Glen Ellen Road to Arnold Drive. The Napa Chamber of Commerce, which had its own bid for the Academy, insisted they, too, wanted a nod to “Arnold” should they be given the Golden Ticket (which would have created absolutely no hard feelings over here, I’m sure).

But amid the national mourning for Hap Arnold and locals Burbank-inizing him into our new Favorite Son, the county quietly took the Santa Rosa-Petaluma site out of the running, despite it being the showcase of the presentation to the inspection team – as well as being the only landmark connection to the famed general. From the Jan. 21 Press Democrat:

Sonoma county has pinned all its hopes for the “West Point of the Air” being located here on the former army air base near Windsor, it was indicated at the county Board of Supervisors’ meeting yesterday. J. Mervyn Daw, Santa Rosa Chamber of Commerce president, and A. M. Lewis, secretary-manager of the chamber, appeared before the board to ask that the county’s master plan of airports booklet be revised to include detailed maps of the proposed air academy site. They said that Col. F. S. Tandy, district engineer of the Corps of Army Engineers, personally picked the Windsor site over one located east of Penngrove…

There are several shaky details in that clip, although some may be due to lousy journalism. Was the Santa Rosa Chamber of Commerce (not the city) really directing the Supervisors to make historic, sweeping changes in county planning? Col. Tandy was not part of the survey party that was here the previous week, so when did he evaluate the sites? Did he officially issue this opinion or was it an offhand remark made to someone? Previously, his only comment was that he didn’t think there was an adequate water supply in Sonoma County, which led the PD to boast there would be more than enough once Lake Mendocino was created (as of this writing in 2021, drought has reduced the lake to little more than a mud puddle).

The proposed site encompassed 14,000 acres, of which 5k would be actively used as the Air Force campus. Roughly all of the Russian River between Windsor and Hacienda Bridge would now belong to the government, with a dam somewhere to create a lake (hey, we could name it Arnold Beach!) for boating and freshwater supply. The site also included the area which is now the Sonoma County Airport, requiring us to develop a different airfield.*

Proposed site for the Air Force Academy as presented to the Air Force's site selection committee in 1950. The location of the Sonoma County Airport shown in red. (CLICK HERE for a full size version of the map)
Proposed site for the Air Force Academy as presented to the Air Force’s site selection committee in 1950. The location of the Sonoma County Airport shown in red. (CLICK HERE for a full size and unedited version of the map)

But the Academy’s greatest impact on the county wouldn’t be its whopping size – it would be the sudden pop in population. The Air Force planned to begin with 2,000 cadets and ramp up to 5,000. Together with the staff required to support operations it would add 20,000 people to Sonoma County. That was more than lived in Santa Rosa, which then was under eighteen thousand.

It’s no wonder why the Santa Rosa Chamber of Commerce was racing after this project; it was said the Air Force expected a town of about 8,000 would be built nearby. Whether that would be North Santa Rosa or West Windsor didn’t really matter – those newbies would still have few shopping options except for the City of Roses’ downtown stores.

The big loser in this switcheroo of preferred sites was Petaluma, of course, and it’s a wonder it didn’t destroy what comity remained between Santa Rosa and the egg city. The Argus-Courier assured the Petaluma Hill road site wasn’t fully out of the running and would still be submitted as an alternate. “At least we are not going to give up hope yet,” an editorial said. Yet the 62-page brochure presented to Washington D.C. on behalf of “Sonoma County in the Redwood Empire” had no mention of it, while including several pages just on school districts in and north of Santa Rosa.

Not surrendering graciously were many small farmers who would be required to sell their land. Nor did the Press Democrat soothe their irk by printing op/eds like this: “By far the greatest amount of land taken over by the Academy would be so-called ‘marginal land,’ much of which is now used as pasture or not used at all.”

Leading the opposition was Fulton hops farmer Lawrence (L. M.) Meredith, spokesman for “The Committee on Public Relations” and frequent letter writer to the PD. He insisted this would take out of production “thousands of acres of the most highly cultivated land in Sonoma county river bottom land that is equal to any in the state,” with an annual revenue of about $22 million today. A pro-Academy rancher with a spread in the target area called BS; farmers were no longer getting the big bucks seen “during the lush war years period” and prune growers worried prices were so low their fruit was barely worth the picking.

About a month after the site was announced, Meredith and other protesters had back-to-back meetings with the Santa Rosa Chamber and the Farm Bureau. The Chamber president said they wouldn’t comment “until ‘all the facts’ are learned about the exact site proposed for the academy,” according to the PD. (Hey, bub, YOU were the one who drew the map!) The next night the protesters met with the Hall Farm Center, which was one of the Farm Bureau’s regional branches. Members voted against the site.

afacolorado(RIGHT: The Air Force Academy in Colorado Springs, CO. Imagine this on the west side of Highway 101 near Windsor)

Tensions continued to rise between the Chamber and the farmers. On March 2nd there was a big meeting at the Windsor Grange where around 200 farmers attended, supposedly representing 10X more people living within the site borders. The Santa Rosa Chamber of Commerce snubbed an invitation to attend. Asked why, Al Lewis, secretary-manager of the Chamber gave an answer certain to further antagonize protesters: “If anyone requests you to talk at a meeting, they generally write you a letter asking you to attend. This notice invited me to listen to an explanation of the proposed Air Force academy. I already know about the academy.”

Lewis continued his perfectly tone-deaf reply: “At the present time the Santa Rosa Chamber of Commerce is not plugging the Santa Rosa area at all as a location for the academy. We are merely working with other state chambers in getting the academy located somewhere in California.” Um, yeah.

At another Grange meeting a few months later the Chamber president attended “on a mission of good will” (per the PD) and listened to people voice their opposition to the project. During the meeting a farmer proposed a boycott of Santa Rosa businesses, which was met with applause. A pro-academy resident described the toxic mood at that meeting:

My husband and I attended the meeting on the Air Force Academy site at the Windsor Grange the other evening. When we entered the hall, it looked like a lions den, There was one gentleman in particular who seemed like the leader. He has been in the community only 2 years and really doesn’t know as yet where he is living. There were all kinds of objections, so I thought I’d sit tight and listen, because if I had got up and really told them what was in my mind I know well that they would have pounced on me.

By that time there had been 580 sites proposed for the academy and when the first cut was announced before Thanksgiving, Santa Rosa was among 29 semi-finalists. We were now so close to the jackpot that the Press Democrat editorial writer lapsed into a somnambulatory abstraction and began spewing numbers: “A $3,344,000 annual payroll, a livelihood for 4,000 persons, a $4,300,000 retail market, opportunities for 75 retail stores, sales and service for 1,300 automobiles…”

The site selection commission visited here and took a 90 minute tour of the site, followed by a Chamber luncheon at the Topaz Room where Hap Arnold’s widow was a featured guest. The day before the PD had dedicated a large portion of the Sunday edition to extolling the county’s virtues, including an editorial with a lengthy quote from her late husband’s National Geographic article. The op/ed closed with a reminder Hap lived only “a few miles from the Air Academy site.”

But come March 1951, the list of potential sites was winnowed to seven – and Santa Rosa was no longer in the running. Sad! (Or not.)

It came out years later the commission appeared more interested in the Petaluma Hill Road site than the one close to Santa Rosa. From the June 3, 1954 UP wire: “The group inspected the Windsor site by auto and flew over the southeastern site twice. That location included the Sonoma Valley estate of the late Gen. H. H. Arnold, war-time chief of the Air Force.”

In hindsight, there are a few different ways to look at the Misadventure of the Air Force Academy:

*
  It’s a Believe–it-or-Not! story because the whole episode is nearly forgotten. At the next picnic or holiday party you can spritz up the conversation with, “hey, did’ja hear about the time they tried to sell a big piece of West County to the government and build a big military academy?”
*
  It might be a kind of Aesop’s fable where the moral is, “He who gets greedy may end up with nothing.” Santa Rosa was quick to elbow Petaluma out of the contest, but maybe the generals ordered the Petaluma Hill Road flyovers because they were giving the location serious consideration as a better place for the academy – or perhaps they were just sentimental about seeing where their old pal had happily retired. We don’t know.
*
  This was the second time in as many years that the Santa Rosa Chamber of Commerce meddled in county planning issues – the first being the disastrous decision to split the town in half with the highway. In the following decades the Chamber similarly had an outsized influence on city planning, particularly the redevelopment that destroyed most of the downtown core. A Chamber of Commerce should never function as a shadow government, but for too much of our history that’s been the case.

 

* In 1950 the other choices for a commercial airfield included the Santa Rosa Airpark, which was near today’s Coddingtown and had a single runway about 2,000′ long. The more likely option was the Santa Rosa Air Center (the decommissioned Naval Auxiliary Air Station) just west of modern Corporate Center Parkway with a tower and two concrete 7,000′ runways.

 

Aerial photo of the proposed academy site taken by Charles Ackley and the Santa Rosa School of Aviation. Regrettably, the artist who drew the overlay flipped the east and west borders, creating a mirror image. PD, Feb. 12 1950
Aerial photo of the proposed academy site taken by Charles Ackley and the Santa Rosa School of Aviation. Regrettably, the artist who drew the overlay flipped the east and west borders, creating a mirror image. PD, Feb. 12 1950

 

Front page of the Press Democrat, Dec. 10 1950
Front page of the Press Democrat, Dec. 10 1950

Read More

avitortitle

A TINKER OF NO SMALL GENIUS

“Every village has its idiot” they say (although Mark Twain might have quipped that was an undercount) but it’s more likely every village in early America had a bonafide eccentric. Some had crazy ideas and some were outright crazy; some did or said things that seemed bonkers to fellow villagers but might have been seen as reasonable, even inspired, by those in the know.

In Civil War-era Santa Rosa the town eccentric was a guy named John Morrow. He captured birds and then let them go after tying weights to them. He also created a wind-up toy that could fly a short distance. And then there’s this: He patented an invention which could have rewritten the history of aviation.

Before jumping on that story, a reminder that Santa Rosa has been overlooked by historians as a crossroads for many pioneer aviators. Gentle Reader presumably salutes Fred J. Wiseman for making the first airmail flight between Petaluma and here in 1911; lesser known is that one version of his flying machine was among the first handful of aircraft bought by the U.S. military. And although he never flew around Santa Rosa, Blaine G. Selvage made probably the first airplane flight on the West Coast at Eureka in 1909; in the years immediately prior to that he lived here, and is buried (in an unmarked grave) at Santa Rosa Memorial Park.

John Bland Morrow apparently arrived in Santa Rosa during early 1865, then 28 or 29 years old. A letter to his parents from Virginia City survives, where he told them he was earning a good wage although many men there couldn’t find any work at all: “I have an advantage over most of the sharps, for when I get broke, I fall back on Science. So I went to work at Gold Hill Machine Shop at five dollars a day – in Gold.” (He also described to his Pennsylvania folks an unusual plant in Nevada called a “cactus.”)

Morrow signed his letter as the “Secretary of the Nevada Territory Engineers Association,” and always listed his profession as a machinist or mechanic – except in Santa Rosa, where he was a “tinner” (tinsmith). After about three years in town he moved to San Francisco along with his friend Harry Rich.

Nothing about Morrow appeared in the local newspapers while he was in Santa Rosa, but much was printed about him afterward, particularly in Healdsburg’s weekly Russian River Flag:

John Morrow— Formerly of Santa Rosa, but now living, we believe, in San Francisco. Some years ago, our attention was called to this person, by what was then regarded as a somewhat novel eccentricity. He was engaged in catching various kinds of fowl, carefully measuring their wings, estimating the force and velocity of their motion, and loading them with weights, to find what each could carry. Some time afterward. passing through Santa Rosa, we heard of a small machine worked by a spring, that flew through the air like a bird. But few had seen it and by many it was regarded as a doubtful rumor…

That was part of an article that appeared in 1869 after someone from the Flag ran into him in San Francisco, where Morrow had been working for Frederick Marriott and his Aerial Steam Navigation Company. Mainly a banker and newspaper publisher, Marriott had been trying to build a steam-powered dirigible since the early 1840s, and he wasn’t alone; in the mid-19th century there were more than a few engineers and inventors – and yes, eccentrics – who were experimenting with designs for a steerable lighter-than-air airship. Very few had gotten further than building models, but that didn’t stop a man named Rufus Porter from promising in 1849 that his “Aerial Locomotive” would transport 200 passengers from New York to the gold fields of California in three days (“wines included, baggage extra”). Spoiler alert: Didn’t happen.

Marriott’s efforts were taken seriously and reported in the San Francisco papers as well as Santa Rosa’s weekly Democrat. After seeing a small non-working model of the “Avitor” in 1867, respected industrialist Peter Donahue – the man who would soon start to build the railroad to Santa Rosa – gave it his endorsement, and the Democrat swooned that we would soon have transcontinental flights: “The idea of flying from here to New York in from 24 to 36 hours, is enough to to take the breath away from one.” Spoiler alert: Didn’t happen.

More than two years flashed by and it was now mid-1869. John Morrow and Harry Rich were working for Marriott, who had built a 37 foot-long prototype he named “Avitor Hermes, Jr.” Fully inflated, it weighed under ten pounds and had a one horsepower steam engine that turned two stubby fabric propellers.

Test flight of the Avitor, July 2 1869 at Millbrae
Test flight of the Avitor, July 2 1869 at Millbrae

The aircraft had been designed in the basement of the huge Montgomery Block building (today the location of the Transamerica Pyramid), where Samuel Clemens sometimes helped – or more likely, distracted – Marriott and the others. Once they thought the thing might actually fly it was taken apart and reassembled it at the Millbrae warehouse they had turned into a makeshift hangar.

A writer from the magazine, English Mechanic and Mirror of Science, described the scene after the gasbags were filled with hydrogen: “…the machinery was put in motion and the propellers commenced their revolutions. At once life was imparted to the whole body, and it rose promptly and gracefully and took its flight into the air…”

They moved it outside, and tethered to a long rope the unmanned airship made two half-mile circles both with and against the wind at a speed of about 5 MPH.

It is considered the first powered flight of an airship outside of Europe, where less successful prototypes had been demonstrated.

Photographs of the event circulated, and the Democrat spotted our local boys in the pictures:

Among the spectators of this great experiment in aerial navigation, who appear in the picture before us, the faces of John Morrow and Harry Rich, two young men formerly of Santa Rosa, who have long been identified with this invention, are easily recognizable.

hermes2(RIGHT: Another view of the July 2 1869 Avitor demonstration)

Following that, the Avitor was moved to the enormous Mechanics’ Institute Pavilion in San Francisco where visitors paid to watch it fly in scheduled daily exhibitions. That was where someone from the Russian River Flag ran into Morrow, and afterwards wrote that “Marriott’s machine would not rise from the ground” until Morrow improved it.

“This machine was a combination of both Marriott’s and Morrow’s plans,” the Flag reported, “and that portion which made it a success, so far as navigating still air is concerned, was added by Morrow.”

The Marriott airship had several innovations that leapfrogged over previous designs, although it’s almost entirely ignored by aviation historians. The thing had fixed wings, for starters, and at the rear of them were fabric propellers – and not flat paddles but helical blades, which made for better propulsion. Outside of the propellers were planes that are recognizable as primitive ailerons. Combine all this and you had an aircraft which was not only highly steerable – at least, compared to others of its day – but could vertically lift its slightly heavier-than-air frame off the ground by itself.

The person who put all the pieces of this puzzle together must have been a brilliant engineer with a solid understanding of aerodynamics, particularly the concepts of powered lift and thrust – and possibly the only person on earth with all that knowhow was Morrow, who already had a patent of his own. And here’s the Believe-it-or-Not! core of our tale:

John Bland Morrow had invented a jet engine. In 1869. As far as I can determine, it was completely unlike anything else imagined in the 19th century.

 Morrow's "Improved Propeller for Aerial Navigation" patent March 30, 1869
Morrow’s “Improved Propeller for Aerial Navigation” patent March 30, 1869

To be clear: This was nothing like the jet engines hanging on aircraft today – it was more like a vacuum cleaner. Air was sucked into two pipes in the front of the vessel, compressed by blowers and pushed out pipes in the back.

Also, it wasn’t a dirigible – it was simply an engine to generate thrust. There was nothing in the specification about steering it or carrying people. It was just for “propelling vessels, or crafts through the air,” as he wrote. Presumably he expected the engine (or two of them) would be attached to a gondola or cabin with controls.

The Democrat had a small item about his patent, noting that he had been working on it for about a dozen years – which would have covered his time in Santa Rosa. Now locals knew why he had been fiddling around with birds.

morrow2(RIGHT: Morrow’s specification)

His patent was also issued months before Marriott’s patent, which did not list Morrow as a co-inventor. The Flag commented, “…having watched this matter for several years, we can see no reason why Morrow is not entitled to at least equal credit with Marriott.” Apparently they had a falling out between the Avitor test flight in July and when the Flag editor encountered “Johnny” at the Pavilion in September. As mentioned in another article from the Democrat, “…it appears that there had been some trouble between the parties interested in the machine which was lately on exhibition at the Bay City, and they claim to have been ‘froze out.'”

Morrow and Harry Rich were now building something on their own – whether it was the jet engine or a true dirigible was not mentioned. He formed the “Aerial Steamship Company” and in the 1871 San Francisco city directory, his profession was given as “Patentee, Aerial Steamship Company 838 Mission Street.”

Also in 1871 he successfully demonstrated his “air ship,” according to the Flag. “It sailed in the air backwards and forwards under the complete control of the inventor,” and the reference to it going backwards suggests it was the blower-powered jet.

Alas, a followup trial was sabotaged when someone sliced open a gas bag. That was apparently the end of Morrow’s experiments in aviation – a great loss because the Flag had remarked, “…during all these years, with little means, and in the fact of many obstacles, Morrow has been persistently seeking the solution of the problem of aerial navigation, and has probably come nearer the solution than any other man.”

In October 1876 he patented a “water motor,” but nothing more about that is known. In 1879 he was listed in the San Francisco city directory as a machinist, but after that nothing more about him can be found. Anywhere. Genealogists have tried to claim he died in the Ukiah asylum in 1914, but that was a different John Morrow. Turns out his was an extremely common name at the time.

I loathe to leave any story hanging, much less one of historical importance. But let Gentle Reader draw small comfort in knowing I beat every bush I know how to beat. As his patent was filed under the name “William Morrow” I wondered if he had used other names as well. For a time I explored whether he could have become the similar-sounding “John A. Morrell,” who in 1908 was responsible for the worst dirigible accident in U.S. history prior to the Hindenburg (you absolutely must read this story). Nope.

There is, however, much to say about the afterlife of the Avitor. The original burned up while on exhibition at the Pavilion, but a full size replica can be seen at the Hiller Aviation Museum in San Carlos. There’s a good writeup at the Travel for Aircraft blog and there’s an amateur video showing the propellers turning. Anyone interested in digging further into these doings will want to read Marriott’s hard-to-find patent (PDF).

Photo by Joseph May, Travel for Aircraft
Photo by Joseph May, Travel for Aircraft

 

sources
THE “AVITOR.”— We have received from the projectors, amongst whom are some of our wealthiest citizens, a report of the prospects of the long-talked of air navigating machine, which is to astonish the world by its proposed traveling through space, against the currents and airs of all regions, as high as ten or twelve thousand feet above the ground. The “Avitor” will, it is said, beat anything in the traveling world for speed or “coin,” and if half what its projectors claim for it should come true, the modes of travel now in vogue will soon be obsolete. The machine has been in the hands of an incorporated company for some months, and will in a few days be ready to “put a girdle round about the earth in forty minutes.” The following is the opinion of a practical gentleman Mr. Peter Donahue:

I have followed with great interest, and have personally observed the construction of the “Avitor.” I am so thoroughly convinced of the practicability of the enterprise, and so entirely concur in the forgoing observations respecting the two modifications to be adopted, that I have no hesitation in saying that when these changes are made, the “Avitor” will answer all the purposes of its inventor, and fully realize the expectations of the public. As soon as the elevating power shall, in this way, have been perfected, the work will be completed because the propelling force is simple, the machinery for elevating and for depressing sufficient, the steering apparatus in fine working order, and, in short, the whole of the “Avitor” is fully under the control of the operator.

– Daily Alta California, June 16 1867

 

The S. F. Call, in speaking of the flying machine called the Avitor, says: “The superintendent informs us that the building at San Mateo for the Avitor, is completed, and the steam flying machine will be put together immediately, all its parts, including engines, being already constructed in this city and ready for shipment to the house. If those engaged in the undertaking have got what they believe they have, the world will be astonished in a few weeks. The public will not. however, have a chance to see the machine unless it proves to be a success. The idea of flying from here to New York in from 24 to 36 hours, is enough to to take the breath away from one, but this is a feat promised, and which those to vesting their money in the Avitor expect to perform. If they are disappointed they will lose their money and no one else will be the worse off: if they are not disappointed the world will be the gainer.”

– Sonoma Democrat, February 9 1867

 

[Patent number] 88,324 Aerial Car. Wm. Morrow, San Francisco, California. This invention relates to new mode of propelling aerial vessels, and it consists in providing the machine with two large fans or blowers, which are driven by a light engine. The sides of the cases which are ordinarily left open, are closed in those blowers, and are connected by pipes from the front of the vessel, so that the air is drawn in through these pipes. Similar pipes serve for the ejection of the air at the stern of the vessel, so that it is propelled both by drawing in the air and by forcing it out. The steering apparatus may be so arranged as to elevate or depress the machine, as well as to turn it either side.

– The San Francisco Examiner, April 17 1869

 

Patent Awarded.— We are informed that Mr. John Morrow, formerly a resident of this place, but who has been for the past year or so residing in San Francisco, has been awarded a patent for an aerial car, or flying machine. He commenced this difficult undertaking some twelve years ago, and has spent much of his time and money in order to make it a success. We learn on good authority that he is now superintending the work on one of these machines which measures some one hundred and twenty feet in length. Success to him.

– Sonoma Democrat, April 24 1869

 

Exhibition of tbe Model Avitor. Quite a large number of citizens, including members of the Aerial Steam Navigation Company, scientific men, representatives of the press, etc., assembled at the Mechanics’ Pavilion, on Stockton street, yesterday, to witness an exhibition of the Flying Machine, or Model Avitor. The indefatigable Marriott, of the News Letter, was, of course, on hand. Some little delay was caused by derangement in the machinery, but soon, everything being ready, the “boat” commenced to navigate the air “like a thing of life,” amid the huzzas of the spectators. It was voted a success at least the model was. This steam-car, which is to revolutionize the world, has been so often described, we shall not repeat it here.

– The San Francisco Examiner, July 22 1869

 

Aerial.— We have received a picture of the new steam flying machine, which recently made a successful trial in San Francisco. It is shaped something like a cigar, has two flanges or wings, three feet in diameter, one on each side, and a rudder at one end, which controls its course. At the recent trial trip, says an exchange, “with the first turn of the propellers she rose slowly into the air, gradually increasing her speed until the rate of five miles an hour was attained.” Among the spectators of this great experiment in aerial navigation, who appear in the picture before us, the faces of John Morrow and Harry Rich, two young men formerly of Santa Rosa, who have long been identified with this invention, are easily recognizable. We wish all parties concerned in it the moat abundant success.

– Sonoma Democrat, July 24 1869

 

John Morrow and Harry Rich, formerly residents of this place, we learn are now building another flying machine at San Francisco. It appears that there had been some trouble between the parties interested in the machine which was lately on exhibition at the Bay City, and they claim to have been “froze out.” They are now determined to build one for themselves, and as they are both industrious we doubt not but that they will succeed. Good luck to them say we.

– Sonoma Democrat, September 18 1869

 

John Morrow— Formerly of Santa Rosa, but now living, we believe, in San Francisco. Some years ago, our attention was called to this person, by what was then regarded as a somewhat novel eccentricity. He was engaged in catching various kinds of fowl, carefully measuring their wings, estimating the force and velocity of their motion, and loading them with weights, to find what each could carry. Some time afterward. passing through Santa Rosa, we heard of a small machine worked by a spring, that flew through the air like a bird. But few had seen it and by many it was regarded as a doubtful rumor. Going into the Pavilion in San Francisco, one day last summer, we saw “Johnny” quietly smoking his cigar. while a large porpoise-shaped machine was sailing through the air, propelled by steam, at the rate of about five miles an hour. This machine was published to the world as Marriott’s “Avitor,” but Marriott’s machine would not rise from the ground. This machine was a combination of both Marriott’s and Morrow’s plans, and that portion which made it a success, so far as navigating still air is concerned, was added by Morrow. Having watched this matter for several years, we can see no reason why Morrow is not entitled to at least equal credit with Marriott. During all these years, with little means, and in the fact of many obstacles, Morrow has been persistently seeking the solution of the problem of aerial navigation, and has probably come nearer the solution than any other man.

– Russian River Flag, October 28 1869

 

In Town.— John Morrow and Harry Rich, former residents of this place, were in town a few days since. Their many friends will be glad to see them.

– Sonoma Democrat, October 30 1869

 

Patent Candle-stick.— L. D. Latimer and John Morrow, two gentlemen well-known to our citizens, now residing at San Francisco, have lately invented a new candle-stick. Their invention prevents the waste of any portion of the candle. If John doesn’t succeed in flying operations he will in candle-sticks.

– Sonoma Democrat, March 26 1870

 

The Aerial Vessel. Mr. Morrow’s air ship was recently tried in San Francisco and pronounced a success. It sailed in the air backwards and forwards under the complete control of the inventor. A second trial was intended, but some malicious person cut a hole in the gas holder, which for a time prevented further experiments. The object for which Mr. Morrow has indomitably labored several years seems at last attained, and the navigation of the air may soon be a favorite mode of passenger transit.

– Russian River Flag, January 26 1871

Read More

Commandery

THE FORGOTTEN FIRES OF FOUNTAINGROVE AND COFFEY PARK

[Editor’s note: You might really be looking for “THE FORGOTTEN GREAT FIRE OF 1870” which describes there was a third firestorm identical to the Tubbs/Nuns Fires which has never been mentioned]

Could this fire happen again? That’s the multi-billion dollar question hanging over everyone who lost homes in Fountaingrove and Coffey Park as they weigh the decision on whether or not to rebuild. There are no good answers; we can’t even be sure our guesses are reasonably good. There’s just too much we don’t know about the world’s changing climate to say this was a freak event or the harbinger of a new terrible normal.

To understand more, I urge everyone to read (or at least, skim) “The Real Story Behind the California Wildfires” by Seattle meteorologist Cliff Mass. He makes several important observations I’ve not seen mentioned elsewhere, particularly that there were hurricane force winds (96 MPH!) at higher elevations before the fire began to spread. The speed of those winds are unprecedented in our neck of the woods and were a significant factor in creating what he calls a “unique mountain-wave windstorm.” Again, it’s a must-read.

Comparisons are being made to the September 1964 Hanly Fire (that’s the correct spelling, not “Hanley”) which burned over the same route – Calistoga to Franz Valley to Mark West Canyon and then driven down into Santa Rosa, likewise by the powerful, unrelenting “Diablo Winds” on a Sunday night. But it did not grow into the hellish firestorm that raged in 2017; it was stopped on Mendocino avenue just outside the now-lost Journey’s End trailer park.

But forgotten since are the two other major fires specific to Fountaingrove and the Coffey Park areas. Each was the most serious fire of that year in Santa Rosa. It just may be a coincidence that these incidents were at the same locations, but at this point, any additional information about our fire history is good to have.

Major factory fires threatened Santa Rosa’s industrial rim in 1909 and again in 1910, but of all the fires in Santa Rosa history, the Fountaingrove fire of 1908 was the one which might have burned down the town.

The fire was huge, easily visible from Healdsburg because it was nearly at the top of the hill. In flames was the landmark “Commandery,” one of the main buildings from the heyday of the utopian colony founded by Thomas Lake Harris. That was the residence for the colony’s men. The fire began when a kerosene lamp exploded, destroying the place so fast that nothing in the three-story mansion could be saved.

“Fortunately the north wind that had been blowing earlier in the day and evening died down, otherwise the flames would have spread,” the Press Democrat reported at the time. From a high ridge like that, just a stiff breeze could have easily thrown embers a mile and a half downwind to the county hospital on (the road later named) Chanate – which also came within 100 yards of burning in the 1964 Hanly Fire (and where a developer now has the go-ahead to build a dense subdivision of up to 800 units).

The fire burned itself out quickly; it’s not clear if the Santa Rosa Fire Department did anything. A pasture also ignited and was easily handled. But had a northern wind still been gusting, firebrands from the Commandery might have blown as far as the core neighborhoods across from the modern-day high school, where almost all Victorian homes had shingle roofs.

While Santa Rosa got a lucky break in 1908, Fortuna did not smile as much on the town in 1939, when a wind-whipped fire swept across 500 acres in (what would become) the Coffey Park neighborhood.

That September 20 fire started at the airport. Today probably only the oldest-timers and aviation buffs know that the town had an airport there; when it opened in 1929 it was first called the Santa Rosa Municipal Airport, then it became the Santa Rosa Airpark and lastly the Coddingtown Airport, which finally closed in 1971 or 1972 (EDIT: The Airpark and Coddingtown were nearby, but not the same place). The layout of the runways shifted over the years but the way it probably looked at the time of the fire can be seen in the graphic below. (For much more on all the historic airfields in the Santa Rosa area, see the “Abandoned and Little-Known Airfields” site. Don’t miss the commemorative postmark of Luther Burbank looking like an angry muppet.)

Approximate location of the Santa Rosa Municipal Airport runways in 1939

 

The airport fire was completely avoidable, and if not for the serious danger it posed would serve as the script for a Keystone Kops slapstick comedy.

It was the hottest day of the year, with the thermometer reading 104 – hardly conditions to do weed burning, but that’s what a crew of 10-12 men were doing that afternoon on the runways, dragging burning rags behind a truck.

They were working in the southwestern end of the field when the wind suddenly started blowing from the south, sending the fire towards the modern intersection of Coffey Lane and Hopper Ave. It was moving so fast they could not overtake it in the truck, according to the PD.

Naturally, they were unprepared to handle such a runaway blaze so the fire department was called. A single truck with 150 gallons of water was dispatched and quickly emptied. The fire was now out of control.

A second fire truck arrived, as did a crew and truck from the state as the fire line headed towards several farms. Students from the Junior College joined the fight and were credited with saving at least one home.

“Farmers, passing motorists, airport attendants and others fought side by side, beating out the flames with wet sacks and using portable water pumps in the two-hour battle,” the PD reported.

One farmer lost a small house and farm buildings, including a barn; another lost many outbuildings including chicken houses, where many animals died. Two orchards were burned over, power poles went up in flames and a large stack of baled hay continued to burn into the next day. Altogether 13 buildings were destroyed on five properties.

The idiocy of doing a controlled burn on an extremely dry and hot day aside, it’s jaw-dropping that it spread to 500 acres before a city and state fire crew plus a platoon of volunteers could control it – all in an area that was then undeveloped and just a couple of miles from town. What would they have done if the wind changed again and started blowing towards Santa Rosa?

Again, I hasten to add it’s probably just a Believe-It-Or-Not! coincidence that the big fires of 1908 and 1939 happened at the same places as 2017. Those fires don’t even have anything in common with each other; the airport fire was caused by a sudden change of wind and the Commandery burned like a torch amid no winds at all. One fire was avoidable, one probably not. What they do have in common is that both could have been catastrophic had the winds shifted towards Santa Rosa; the town could not have coped with a serious fire on its border at either time.

After presenting lots’o graphs and colorful maps, meteorologist Cliff Mass concludes with an optimistic view that our computer models are probably able to predict when conditions are ripe for a replay of the Tubbs Fire. That’s good news for sure, but the depressing message from history is that disasters aren’t always so foreseeable in reality. Sometimes life-threatening events comes from scientifically-predictable weather conditions, but sometimes the worst danger is just some fool dragging a burning rag behind a truck.

 

Painting of the Commandery by Fountain Grove colonist Alice Parting as it appeared in the Pacific Rural Press, May 18, 1889

 

Top image of Commandery courtesy Gaye LeBaron Collection, Sonoma State University Special Collections

 

 

BIG RESIDENCE GUTTED BY FIRE AT FOUNTAINGROVE
A Disastrous Blaze Near Town Wednesday Night

The explosion of the lamp resulted in a fire Wednesday night the destroyed the fine old residence at Fountaingrove, which for years occupied a commanding site on the hill overlooking the valley, greeting the eyes of every passerby along the Healdsburg Road. It was the biggest residence on the estate.

In a remarkedly short space of time, so fiercely did the fire fiend to do its work, the splendid building that rose four stories high, was reduced to smoldering embers. The residence was furnished and the contents cannot be saved. In addition a small creamery was also destroyed.

Shortly before 10 o’clock the fire started. The flames lit up the heavens for miles. People in Santa Rosa climbed into automobiles and carriages and left for the scene. At first many people thought the fire was at the old Pacific Methodist College building, and quite a number of them headed in that direction. Then it was said that it was Frank Steele’s residents near town. All these conjectures proved wrong.

The lamp exploded without warning and Mr. Cowie, who resided in the big house, was slightly burned about the face. The fire spread rapidly. The residence, built entirely of wood, was an easy prey. At the first cry of fire the large force of employees on the Fountaingrove estate rallied and did what they could to prevent the spread of the flames to other buildings. Numerous small hose were attached to faucets. Fortunately the north wind that had been blowing earlier in the day and evening died down, otherwise the flames would have spread. Some flying embers started a fire in the pasture but it was checked.

The house was well built. It had stood for about a quarter century. It was a largest residence on the place. When seen by a Press Democrat representative at the scene of the fire, Kanai [sic] Nagasawa stated that it would be hard to estimate the damage. Probably $35,000 to $40,000 will cover it. It is understood that there was some insurance on the place. Years ago, when the late Thomas Lake Harris published his books, the printing presses and other paraphernalia had aplace in the building destroyed. Of later years it had been used as a residence and for sometime prior to their going away from Fountaingrove Dr. and Mrs. Webley, and the Clarks occupied apartments in it.

There must have been a couple of hundred people in the crowd who drove out from Santa Rosa to the fire. Mr. Nagasawa took in the situation most philosophically, saying while it was too bad it had happened yet he was very thankful no one was hurt, and that there was no wind to scatter the fire further.

The old house will be missed. While it was the largest house it was not considered as fine as that occupied by the late Mr. Harris, which contains some valuable paintings, plate and furnishings. There are many Santa Rosans who have visited the Webleys and the Clarks there, and they will be sorry to learn of the destruction wrought by the fire.

For an hour or more after the fire, and while it was still in progress the telephone line to the Press Democrat office was certainly “busy.” The fire was seen for miles around and inquiries poured into the office.

Mr. and Mrs. Shirley Burris were leaving Healdsburg for Santa Rosa in their automobile at the time the fire started. Its reflection could plainly be seen there, and attracted considerable attention. All along the road people were out watching the flames.

While mention is made of those who went in automobiles and buggies to the fire those who rode horseback and on bikes must not be overlooked. There were many entries in these divisions. Several young ladies galloped on horseback to the scene of conflagration. For his speedy transit to Fountaingrove the Press Democrat representative was indebted to Frank Leppo, who drove his auto. When all the autos returned to town after the fire it made up quite a decent illuminated parade. An effort to reach Fountaingrove by telephone after the fire was met with the information the telephone had been destroyed with the building.

– Press Democrat, June 18 1908

Read More