Half Moon Bay Memories & El Granada Observer

Pigeon Point lighthouse was the private domain of Capt. Marner–a crusty white-haired sea captain who deeply loved ships. From his “white pinnacle” at Pigeon Point, he had spotted the Colombia before the wreck and thought it was the “tender Madrone”–an offical vessel carrying a lighthouse inspector for an impromptu visit.

“I hallooed to my boys,” Capt Marner said, “and they ran to put on their good clothes to recieve the inspector.”

But he soon realized his error as he witnessed the Colombia “lifted by the roll of the sea and dropped again crunching and grinding its nose on the rocks”.

It was a painful sight for Capt. Marner who talked like a man witnessing a good friend’s death.

“Do ya see how she fights for life? Ah, it’s too bad. She won’t let go of the rock,” Marner said. “She’s afraid of going down if she does. She thinks she’ll hold on and live a little longer. But it’s useless. She can’t live, a big rock sticking straight up in her bow and holding her there while the sea whips her tail and rolls her round like a piece of driftwood.”

By the time Lastreto arrived in Pescadero to wire San Francisco for help, the village was buzzing with excitement. While awaiting reply, he sauntered over to the Swanton House where Sarah Swanton, the inn’s famous hostess, insisted on cooking him breakfast.

Emerging from the hotel, Lastreto saw a stagecoach loaded with Pescaderans and city folks, guests at the Swanton House, all headed for the drama at the beach. They welcomed him abord, and when they arrived at the scene of the shipwreck, the fog had finally lifted.

The city folk passed the day picking up the limes that swept ashore and later in the afternoon, a trio of tugs arrived to transport the calm passengers to San Francisco.

The exact cause of the wreck stirred a contentious debate.

“That fog horn must be out of order,” one of the ship’s officers said, referring to the Pigeon Point lighthouse.

“My fog horn was blowing twice a minute all night,” dissented old Capt. Marner.

“It was as faint as if it were miles away,” the ship’s officer continued, “and it sounded far out at sea. The sound came from the west, not from the north. When she struck, Capt. Clark had no idea where he was. The shore could not be seen.”

“This is one of the queerest accidents I ever knew of,” Capt. Marner said, “and I’ve been 35 years at sea.”

Captain Clark said he confused the fog signal at New Year’s Island (Ano Nuevo) with that of Pigeon Point. The two signals stood not far apart and Clark maintained that he thought he was two miles offshore and some distance north of the lighthouse that marked the final resting place of his ship.

The Pescaderans took full advantage of the wreck as a reat quantity of eastern white lead, the prime element of paint, was recovered from the ocean bed. Shortly it was trading at four cents a pound–and according to legend, every house in Pescadero boasted a fresh coat of white paint.

Hundreds of feet of white and gold moulding stripped form the steamer’s staterooms were later fashioned into frames. The salvaged copper wire was used for clotheslines from which hung bolts of satin, blue eans, woolen blankets and quilts. Hat racks, writing desks and other furniture from the Colombia furnished nearby Coastside homes. Kitchen tables were weighted down with granite ware, pots, kettles and tin ware, all from the dead ship.

“The wreckage was so profitable,” a newspaper reported, “that one of the salvagers was able to buy a home in Spanishtown [Half Moon Bay].”

Three months later cases of olive oil still floated ashore. When the Colombia was finally dynamited, Pigeon Point lighthouse’s Capt. Marner grieved for the steamer, telling anyone who would listen: “She was too young to go.”

Photo: Actor Wilton Lackaye

Nationally known thespian Wilton Lackaye had awakened in his cabin aboard the steamship Colombia and was dressing for breakfast. Lackaye was a character actor, famous for developing the role o Svengali, the malevolent music teacher who turns an innocent, young milk-maid into a great diva under his hypnotic tutelage. He was en route to San Francisco to do his Svengali in the acclaimed play based on “Trilby”, George du Maurier’s popular romantic novel.

“I knew what had happened,” the 34-year-old Lackaye said, “but I didn’t feel the slightest bit alarmed. Neither did my wife. She knocked on the door and said the ship’s journey was at an end, but that there was no danger.”

While the shipwreck sorely inconvenienced all, there was no panic and no casualities among the 36 cabin and 26 steerage passengers. It was as if nothing extraordinary had happened.

Capt. Clark was philosophical. “As it was destined that I was to have an accident, I thank God that I had such a splendid lot of men and women on board. Why, all I did after I saw we were all right was to tell the ladies that their coffee was waiting beflow and every one of them went down.”

Lackaye seconded the captain’s opinion. “I declare,” he exclaimed, “I never saw such a lot of women in my life. There wasn’t a scream, not a faint, not a prayer, but to tell you the truth, I’ve seen more excitement at the ordinary fire drills at shipboard.”

While meals were served to the stranded passengers, the coffee importer Carlos Lastreto headed toward the stern. He heard the slap, slap, slap of oars on the water, and through the ghostly mist detected the shape of a man in a fishing boat.

Lastreto said, “I hailed the barely visible boatman through the fog.” The man in the boat was a Portuguese fisherman who claimed that he, too, was lost in the fog and he proceeded to climb aboard the Colombia.

After consulting with Capt. Clark, it was decided that Lastreto should accompany the fisherman back to shore and telegraph San Francisco from Pescadero with news of the wreck.

“Luck was with us,” Lastreto later said. As he looked back from the fishing craft, he realized the Colombia had narrowly missing crashing into Pigeon Point itself.

…To Be Continued…

By the time the new steamship Colombia (sailing from Central America to San Francisco) neared Pigeon Point lighthouse, south of Pescadero, the fog was thick–so soupy that it was hard to tell whether it was dawn or dusk.

A foghorn moaned regularly and thinking he knew the route well, the coffee importer Carlos B. Lastreto warne Capt. Clark, the steamer’s captain, that they were fast approaching Pigeon Point–although the fog made it impossible to actually see the lighthouse.

Evidently Capt. Clark thought otherwise. He was convinced the foghorn they heard came from another ship–and Clark briskly walked away, terminating their discussion.

Still sensing trouble, Lastreto wandered forward where he met an old acquaintance, a Pacific Mail Line representative. The two men did not speak but exchanged troubled glances as the heavy gray mist cut off all view of the sea.

When Lastreto heard the repeated distinct sound of the foghorn, this time closer yet, he tensed. The two men turned toward each other, once again without exchanging a word, then walked to opposite sides of the deck expecting the worst.

As the horn blew louder still, grim visions filled Lastreto’s mind. Perhaps seeking safety from what was to come, he headed back to his cabin.

Simultaneously, Capt. Clark realized that the Colombia was indeed in trouble–and that she was heading straight into the breakers.

“Reverse engines,” shouted the captain.

When Lastreto opened the door of his first-class cabin, there was a terrific lurch and the sound of metal grinding on rock as he was flung against the doorjamb.

It was 8 a.m. on July 14, 1896 when the Colombia’s bow creaked to its final resting place on the rocky bottom–300 yards from the beach. The Colombia had become wedged between teh rocky claws of a reef half a mile from the Pigeon Point lighthouse.

From the beach, the steamers appeared to be lying at anchor but upon closer inspection, a serrated tear had ripped across the bow–and seawater flooded through the open gash and into the forward compartment.

An avalanche of small limes tumbled out of barrels and floated toward shore.

…To Be Continued…

Photo: courtesy San Mateo County History Museum. Please visit the new galleries at the museum located in the historic Redwood City Courthouse.

Coffee importer Carlos B. Lastreto frequently commuted aboard Pacific Mail steamers between Central America and San Francisco, all safe, smooth passages. But in the summer of 1896 that changed as the voyage on the new steamer Colombia turned into an odyssey for the future Atherton resident.

Even before Lastreto arrived at the dock in Guatemala to board the Colombia, the prominent 29-year-old San Francisco businessman experienced a dose of bad luck. The evening prior to the voyage his wharfside hotel burst into flames. His clothing, documents and cash burned in the conflagration and spectators suppressed their smiles as the young American fled in his pajamas.

Fortunately, Lastreto had checked a small trunk with the steamship company. Neatly packed in the suitcase were a pair of shiny dancing pumps and a dress suit. During the early part of the sea adventure that awaited him, this formal outfit was all he had to wear, drawing gentle jibes from his fellow passengers and the Colombia’s friendly crew. Lastreto was becoming accustomed to sidelong glances.

From the beginning the weather inhibited the Colombia’s maiden voyage as the journey was immersed in a thick blanket of fog from Cape St. Lucas, at the southern tip of Baja California, until the voyage’s unexpected conclusion. The water and sky seamlessly blended into a wall and vision was limited to 100 yards as the Colombia inched up the California coast to San Francisco, its scheduled destination.

By the time the Colombia neared Pigeon Point lighthouse, south of Pescadero, it was almost 8 a.m. but without a clock it was hard to tell the precise time of day.

…To be continued…