Of Lord and Lore

Once upon a time, Lucky Baldwin, a strapping young fellow with an ox as his companion, set out to work in his vineyard.

The ox, hitched to a wooden cart, was minding its own business, and so was Lucky. Then a gust of wind blew. A really strong gust, so strong it blew the largest bell from the San Gabriel Mission tower right onto his oxcart.

Some tale. And it’s partly true: Elias Jackson “Lucky” Baldwin, later to become a California land baron, was a San Gabriel Valley vineyard owner during the 1880s.

But that’s where the facts end and the storytelling among San Gabrielites begins.

As city residents celebrate their mission’s 225th birthday and its recently completed renovation, there is a premium on tales and mission lore.

Residents take pride in the mission’s role in California history. The founding of Los Angeles is said to have originated from the site, when 11 families, known as the Pobladores, migrated west.

The city’s history is filled with such stories of padres, Native Americans and enterprising settlers. On occasion, today’s city dwellers graft their own perspectives onto historical facts, creating myths.

The mission’s curator, Helen Nelson, can recall two separate occasions when visitors insisted on investigating their versions of mission history.

One gentleman, whose name Nelson can’t remember, walked in and told her the story of a secret tunnel. The tunnel supposedly ran under the mission; its function was to serve as an escape route for the padres in case of an Indian rebellion.

Another visitor once told Nelson there was gold buried somewhere under the mission. He brought some kind of detection device into the building, she said, and the meter went off as he surveyed a section of the floor.

“I was with him, and I heard it go off myself,” Nelson said.

The man wanted permission to start digging. But Nelson was unable to convince the restoration team working on the mission that it would be worth the effort.

Yet as with the tale of Lucky Baldwin and the bell, history backs up at least part of the speculation.

History books point out that during the early years of the mission, Father Jose Maria Zalvidea owned about $2,000 worth of Spanish onzas, or gold coins. Some stories say Dolores, Zalvidea’s lost love back in Spain (before he thought of becoming a priest), gave him the money to use in time of need.

The story goes that the money was buried for safekeeping somewhere within the mission grounds. Some stories tell how thieves stole it, or an Indian who lived at the mission took it with him as he escaped from the sometimes-harsh rule of the padres.

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Victoria de Cordova, the great-great-granddaughter of the original “keeper of the keys” at the mission, said she was encouraged by a proposed city plan to raise the railroad tracks next to the mission, a project she thought might reveal the mythical tunnel. “I thought I might see what was down there if there were going to be any digging around the tracks,” Cordova said.

But no one dug. It was felt the disruption might cause too much damage to the historic structure.

For all its mystery, the mission, located at one of the busiest intersections in San Gabriel, is a daily sight for many city residents. They pass by on their way to work, or take their children to the Catholic school there, or attend City Council meetings at City Hall just across the street. From inside the mission, worshipers hear the occasional roar of passing freight trains.

“Missions are living places for people. Mass is still held there, weddings are still held there,” said Douglas Monroy, director of Southwest studies at Colorado College, who remembers taking field trips to the mission as a child.

“They are not relics of the past, but are indeed long-lived institutions from Spanish and Mexican times.”

The mission houses a museum displaying sheepskin Bibles, clothing of the clergy and the padres’ collection of books and assorted personal items. “Out of all these things come stories,” Monroy said.

When it comes to tall tales, provability is beside the point, said Leo Carrillo, professor of Mexican American studies at Texas A&M; University. The stories represent people’s desire to mythologize what they see every day.

“If there is a treasure under an important mission, then there is a treasure here,” Carrillo said.