Anapauma

Anapauma

A Place of Rest – and Surprise

Noel Laflin

6-17-15

With camera in hand, I wander the land of Anapauma almost daily, shooting dozens of photos of birds and turtles, ancient pepper, eucalyptus, sycamore and oak trees. I have been doing so for the past three decades – all the while quite ignorant of the land’s proper name.  But then I discovered an unlooked for treasure that changed all that.  Now, I am on the lookout for a ghost.

You see, up until last night, I never knew that this section of the old El Modena neighborhood in which I reside had such a moniker.  But, this ‘place of rest,’ as Anapauma is defined in Greek, was so named by a long-dead neighbor by the name of David Hewes.  And as we fast approach the hundredth anniversary of his passing, it seems fitting that I tell you a brief tale regarding this restful, enchanting place of yesteryear.

Like many unexpected treasures, it was an old map that caught my eye as I researched what I thought would be a simple piece on the community of El Modena – a place I have grown to love over the years.  But this unlooked for gift of a map/realty advertisement for a project that would never be, with its accompanying flowery prose, grabbed me by the proverbial collar and shook me to the very core as it described in detail the massive acreage involved, the amount of citrus, walnut, olive and wheat grown upon a place known as Anapauma.  It also mentioned and outlined the natural water reservoir that still sits across the street from where I live – the very ‘pond’ that I have walked about and photographed for years. In short, I was being shown my neighborhood as is once was some one hundred and thirty years ago – and called by a name by which I was quite unfamiliar.  As I said, it was an unexpected gift.

But, let’s back up a moment and put a little history into perspective. 

Native Americans were here upon this land first of course – for perhaps two thousand years or longer.  In fact, their last settlement was still in place as recently as 1870 – located not far from where we, as interloping children from Anaheim, used to swim in Hart Park on warm summer evenings back in the early 1960’s. The original settlers had been gone for nearly a century by then.

 

The Spanish eventually arrived, displacing most of the ancient ones – except those holdouts still camped off of Glassell Avenue down in Santiago Creek.  But the small agrarian and mostly Hispanic community lying a few miles east of the Orange Plaza still did not have a name until Quaker settlers landed here in the 1880's.  They named their new digs Modena – after having read a rather popular, but gruesome poem by Samuel Rogers, whose opening lines begin, ‘If thou shouldst ever come by choice or chance to Modena …’ But the U.S. Postal Service would not approve of the name as it was too similar in sound to another California town.  So, the Friends thought about it and then tried out the name, Earlham, That lasted about a year before they went back to the original idea and added the word ‘El’ as a prefix.  The postal service approved the change and the community of El Modena was born.

Now, about this same time a fellow by the name of David Hewes also came to town, buying all of the land between El Modena and the city of Tustin – all eight hundred and thirty acres to be precise.

Mr. Hewes was rich – filthy rich – having won and lost fortunes several times over the lengthy course of his life. He was known at the time as ‘the man who made San Francisco,’ amongst other distinctions.  He also provided the ‘golden spike’ at Promontory Point, Utah for the official completion of the country’s first transcontinental railroad back in 1869.  That very spike was returned to Mr. Hewes following the ceremony and resided in our very neighborhood before being donated to the University of Stanford many years later.  Despite his wealth, Hewes was also a philanthropic soul.  One writer wittingly quipped that ‘he established more churches than Saint Paul’ as he helped to fund a new school for the Catholic Sisters of Orange, along with new churches for the Congregationalists and Presbyterians of Tustin as well as providing money and a church bell for the Friends of El Modena.

And although David Hewes had a beautiful home built in the heart of downtown Tustin, his heart belonged to his ranch house in Hewes Park, and the citrus groves consisting of more than fifty thousand orange and lemon trees, which he affectionately named Anapauma – the very name that I just became familiar with last evening.

Mr. Hewes used to travel the dirt and gravel roads he’d created first by horse drawn buggy and later by automobile.  It’s reported that he frequently drove himself across Esplanade and Hewes Avenues, up La Veta and Chapman Avenues – all streets that I still drive and walk upon this very day. The old, well-dressed man continued to do so well into his ninetieth year.

He died on July 23, 1915 at the age of ninety-three. His impressive ‘place of rest’ was eventually sold piecemeal over the years.  

Over time, a family of Japanese descent bought acreage surrounding the reservoir – now known as the El Modena Pond - and farmed magnificent vegetables, which they shared with the community.  A Quaker family bought the hilly land that would one day become our complex and grew flowers that became quite renowned. A half dozen schools and churches were built, a branch library was founded, and a few thousand homes were constructed where orange, lemon, walnut, olive trees and grape vineyards once flourished.  I am certain that Mr. Hewes would have approved of the library, schools and churches.

And now, as I walk with camera in hand, I stay on the lookout for the ghost of a bearded and neatly dressed old man traveling the back roads of my neighborhood.  He should be easy to spot, should I have the good fortune of a shadowy glimpse.  The buggy or turn of the twentieth century automobile will be a dead giveaway.

And should we meet, I will be sure to tell him of how the past and present - just like two trains of old - have finally met.

I hope he doesn’t mind if I then take his picture.