Making a Historical Mountain Out of a Mule Hill

A stone’s throw from the retail swirl of a busy new shopping mall, within earshot of the drone of traffic streaming along Interstate 15, sits an ordinary little hill littered with boulders.

The shoppers and commuters who motor by pay it little heed. But this inconspicuous rocky slope is a historical landmark in its own right.

It’s called Mule Hill, and its notch in history was carved 140 years ago in the Battle of San Pasqual, the bloodiest skirmish fought on California soil during the Mexican-American War.

It was to this high ground that scout Kit Carson and a desperate regiment of American cavalry men, outnumbered and weakened by injuries, fled to escape sure massacre by an elite band of Mexican soldiers. For four days, they camped on the hill, surrounded by the Mexican “Californios.” They were ultimately forced to kill and eat their mules to survive.

Now, a troop of amateur historians is waging a quiet battle of its own over Mule Hill. Their goal is to protect the nondescript but historic slope from the march of development rolling across North County and to bring its past to life by establishing it as a state historical park.

“Let’s face it, Mule Hill would make a lovely condominium site, and we’re downright worried we might lose it,” said Bill Aste, 73, a retired restaurateur who is leading the drive to preserve the famous hillock. “People don’t realize how rich with history Mule Hill and this whole area really is. We want to get the word out.”

No one seems to dispute the argument that Mule Hill is worth rescuing from the clutches of development. But a lack of funds and the tangled web of technicalities involved in turning the site into a state historical park have so far thwarted Aste and his allies in the Escondido-based San Pasqual Battlefield Volunteers Assn.

The property, which overlooks the eastern bay of Lake Hodges and is now used for grazing, is owned by San Diego. Aste has asked the city to lease the 24-acre parcel to the state for a nominal fee. He then wants the state to erect interpretive markers, construct a road to the site and manage it as a historical park.

San Diego officials, however, say they must either sell the land at fair market value or trade it for a parcel of comparable worth because the property was purchased through

the public sale of water bonds.

“We can’t just give the land away for free; there are requirements preventing that,” said Linda Bernhardt, an aide to Councilwoman Abbe Wolfsheimer, whose district includes the site. “We’d like to work something out so that the land is dedicated as parkland and remains open space. But the city can’t bear the whole burden. We need cooperation from the state.”

The state Department of Park and Recreation, meanwhile, hasn’t gotten the money to buy the land outright. Moreover, officials say that even if the lease arrangement came through, they would have trouble paying for historical markers and staffing at the hill.

“All of the money in our budget is spoken for, at least four or five times over, so purchasing the hill is out of the question,” said Ed Navarro, superintendent of state parks in San Diego. “From a historical standpoint, we realize it’s important. But it just isn’t a priority right now from a statewide perspective.”

Navarro said that unless the city can turn over the land on favorable terms, Mule Hill supporters may have to obtain funds through special legislation if they wish to see the site saved.

Despite the gloomy forecast, Aste says he is optimistic, and for good reason. His group already has won preservation of 48 acres on California 78 near the Wild Animal Park as a state historical park commemorating the Battle of San Pasqual. Dedication of that park, a $1-million state investment that overlooks the now serene valley where the fighting took place and includes a museum with artifacts from the battle, is scheduled for Dec. 6.

When the park opens to visitors, Aste, who hated history as a boy but became “a convert” in 1974 after happening across the story of the Battle of San Pasqual, will have realized a dream. But it will be only a partial victory, he says, unless Mule Hill also is preserved.

“Mule Hill is at least half the story of the battle, if not more,” Aste said while leading a tour of the famous knoll recently. “The actual battle in the valley lasted 30 minutes, but those men were on this hill for four days. Unless Mule Hill is included in the park, we won’t be showing the whole picture.”

The “whole picture” constitutes a fascinating tale that is little known by locals but is a topic of hearty dispute among historians who have studied the era. For years, experts argued about which of the craggy knolls in the area was the real Mule Hill. Then, in 1970, officials at Camp Pendleton were persuaded to deploy a team of engineers with metal detectors on those hills considered likely suspects.

Scanning slope after slope, the squadron finally struck their target while prowling a knoll south of the North County Fair shopping mall. Buried there were blades, belt buckles, spurs and other metal fragments of early 19th Century military equipment.

“One mystery was solved,” Aste said, but many people still wrongly assume a nearby mountain with a cross on top of it is Mule Hill.

The Battle of San Pasqual’s climax came before dawn on a rainy winter morning, but the episode’s roots can be traced to New Mexico, where Gen. Stephen Watts Kearny, en route to what is now Southern California on orders from Washington, encountered Kit Carson.

Contrary to Kearny’s earlier information, Carson, the legendary scout, said that opposition among the Mexicans had all but evaporated in California. Consequently, Kearny thinned his troops to a force of about 180 and, after enlisting Carson’s help, began the long march west.

Arriving in Warner Springs, weary and now mounted mostly on mules, Kearny and his men received word from a messenger that the Californios had revolted. The general was told that a band of Mexicans sat in the San Pasqual Valley, directly in his path, and was urged to take another route--south along the present California 67 to Mission Valley and then west to Old Town.

Why Kearny chose instead to confront the Californios is still open to debate. Some historians suggest the general was misled by the myth, perpetuated by Carson, that the Mexicans were gutless warriors who would turn and flee at the mere sight of the U.S. Army.

From Aste: “Another theory holds that Kearny wanted a big military victory to enhance his arrival in San Diego. The Californios had beautiful horses, and Kearny, whose troops were on run-down mules, wanted to kill the Mexicans, capture their horses and ride into San Diego in glory.”

In any event, on the wet morning of Dec. 6, 1846, 12 dragoons were sent on a charge into an Indian village where a large band of Californios were camped. They were outmatched; the Mexicans had been alerted to the impending attack and the Americans’ firearms were rendered useless by damp gunpowder.

By the time Kearny and the rest of his forces arrived, several of the dozen horsemen had been killed and the Californios had vanished. Kearny assumed the Mexicans had retreated, but they soon reappeared, wielding lances in a relentless attack as the stunned Americans sat all but defenseless on their pokey mules.

With 18 dead and many more wounded, the Americans retreated. After burying the dead, Kearny headed south along what is now Interstate 15 toward San Diego. But the Californios attacked again, forcing Kearny, injured himself, to take a defensive position on Mule Hill.

There they sat for four days, encircled by the Californios, whose commander, Gen. Andres Pico, inexplicably declined to finish them off. During the siege, Kearny sent three men to summon aid from San Diego. The trio, including Carson, sneaked through enemy lines on their stomachs under cover of dark, but lost their boots and were forced to make the long trek barefoot.

When they arrived, 200 Marines and sailors were already preparing a rescue mission. Seeing reinforcements, the Californios, who suffered only one fatality in the battle, departed and Kearny’s troops were saved.

The bodies of the slain dragoons were later disinterred, moved first to Old Town and finally to Fort Rosecrans Cemetery on Point Loma.

Aste’s dream of bringing this chapter of history alive for local residents and tourists alike began in the early 1970s, when he realized that the only commemorative landmark to the historic battle was a boulder with a faded plaque on it.

“I was appalled that nothing more substantial had been done,” Aste said. “I felt if you’re going to do something, why not do it right.”

So he launched a campaign to replace the plaque, erected on donated land alongside California 78 in 1925, with the museum and historical park scheduled to open next month. Somehow, though, Mule Hill has been left behind.

“When all of this got started, we were told by San Diego that Mule Hill was in the City of Escondido, so we figured we’d wait and have no trouble adding it to the park later,” Aste recalled.

In reality, the hill was in San Diego’s city limits, but that discovery came too late to include the parcel in plans for the park that were already moving through the Legislature.

Now, just as Kearny and his troops were surrounded by Californios and facing a grim fate 140 years ago, Aste fears Mule Hill could soon be hemmed in by residential and commercial development that could pave over any trace of its heritage.

“It would be a shame if this fascinating piece of history, which is right in our backyard, was lost,” Aste said. “The Mexican-American War took place right here, and many people don’t know that. If we can’t get the city to take action on Mule Hill, we’ll lose it like so many other pieces of our past.”

Aste said he has pinned his hopes on Councilwoman Wolfsheimer, who says she “would love to see the area preserved as open space” but admits “it won’t be easy.”

“I’m very interested in the concept of a historical park,” Wolfsheimer said. “It would tie in very nicely with my plan for a waterway park along the San Dieguito River. But whether we can pull it off economically, I just can’t say.”