Recalling Burial Sites Where Houses Sprawl

Centuries before it was developed as a finely groomed and impeccably planned gated community, the tall bluff overlooking Newport Bay served a far more solemn and far more forgotten purpose, say the descendants of two Native American tribes.

“Six hundred ancient people were buried here and then removed from their graves so that these monstrosities could be built,” Lillia Robles announced gravely to a circle of 50 rapt listeners Saturday. “They were people who didn’t destroy. All they left behind were their footprints and their bones. It’s up to us to show that we remember.”

And remember they did as the 82-year-old Robles and other descendants of the Gabrieleno and Juaneno band of Mission Indians conducted what has become an annual pilgrimage to ancient burial sites that now hold major housing developments. The first visit was to sprawling Harbor Cove in Newport Beach, where contractors for the Irvine Co. discovered hundreds of bone fragments and household items belonging to California’s first residents.

Bearing offerings of tobacco and singing Native American prayers, Robles and the others walked to the gates of the development, drawing stares and curious glances from a long line of drivers who were temporarily blocked from leaving the main gates. After more than an hour, the group would visit the Sandover development in Bolsa Chica, where 16 houses occupy a former burial site, they say, as well as the Hellman Ranch development in Seal Beach. Their final stop would be the site of the ancient village of Puvungva, which is now the site of Cal State Long Beach.

“This is not a protest; what we’re doing is praying,” said Raymond Aguilar, a vice chairman of the Juaneno tribe. Aguilar, who carried an American flag with a Native American symbol on it, said the prayer walks were often confused with protests.

As shrieking fire engines from the city’s nearby fire station drowned out portions of the ceremony and as jets screamed overhead, Aguilar explained that the group wasn’t allowed to enter the gated community and therefore performed the ceremony by walking in front of it.

Others in the party voiced irritation with the prohibitions and technological distractions.

“We just can’t walk to the site, and we have to wait for the green light to cross the street,” said Robert John Knapp, a Native American spiritual leader. “It seems we always have to wait for everyone else to tell us what we can do.”

An emissary from the gated community did meet briefly with Robles as the group passed by, and told her that the community was discussing the possibility of erecting a plaque or monument at the gate in recognition of the burial site. Actually going inside was forbidden, he said.

“We can’t allow them to come through the gates, and I think they understand that,” said Norm Kallan, a member of the Harbor Cove Homeowners Assn. “This is a private community. If we let them in, somebody would say, why are you letting everybody in? We just can’t do that.”

The Irvine Co. and the state Native American Heritage Commission, which oversees the handling of Indian remains, insist that the Harbor Cove site was handled in strict accordance with state laws. In fact, the handling of the site has created a split within some Native American groups: Some worked closely with the developer to move the remains to a secret location.

Kallan said that even though he was aware of the burial site, his mind didn’t dwell on it. “It’s not something that a lot of people knew about when they were buying homes here, and even today I’d say 60% or 70% of the people don’t realize it. Once in a while though, if the lights blink, people will say something kiddingly, that it’s an old Indian burial ground.”

While many were solemn-faced as the ceremony began, Robles grinned broadly as the group prepared to leave for its next ceremony. “We showed them that we’re here and we’re their representatives,” Robles said. “Their blood is in us. Their DNA is in us.”