A. W^'''^ , if 0« '^>' tdgle Rock ^ ^^^. -/// ^-y/y. -^^ C '"^' -^-i Compiled snd. -pvihiliAied. V ^ r ^ I I F2Lf fli <^\, First house in Eagle Rock. Occupied by Dominguez. and later by H. J. Stewart. Copyright, 1912, by Women's Twentieth Century Club Eagle Rock, California CI,A34401S History Nestling among the foot hills, about six miles North of Los Angeles, is Eagle Rock Valley. It lies near the center of the old San Rafael Rancho which was granted to Marino de la Verdugo in 1784 and confirmed to his son Jose in 1798. In 1828 Jose left it to his children, Julio and Cata- lina. A United States patent was granted in 1882. This Rancho was later subdivided into the Drey- fus, Beaudry and Glassell and Chapman tracts. The name Eagle Rock, so called from its re- semblance of its shadow to the "bird of freedom," was long known among the Indians and used to identify the valley, but the Spanish gave it the name of Piedro Gordo, or fat rock. A small tract of two acres near the rock was owned by a Mexican named Dominguez, but later by H. J. Stewart, a Scotchman who rebuilt the house in 1884, and lived in it several years. As far as known, this was the first permanent house in Eagle Rock Valley, and remained till 1912. With the march of civilization, the one time sheep pasture developed into a cluster of small ranches. Cacti and sage brush gave place to orange orchards and tomato fields. Trails became highways and the old picturesque pack-horse yielded in favor of the electric car and motor. The Canyon, with its gnarled sycamores, stately oaks, cottonwoods and willows, its carpet of wild- flowers, its bubbling spring and running brook, is now Huntington Park, still beautiful, but the charm that was, is gone. Strangers have found the little Valley in the hills and the herder's hut has become a bungalow, the ranch house, a handsome residence. 'Tis said, the Mission Fathers sometimes used the trail through Eagle Rock Valley when going from San Fernando to San Gabriel. •I Once did the stumbling savage wend His weary way Across this verdant valley fair To learn to pray. Legend In the days before Verdugo owned the "Valley of the San Raphael Hills," long before the Span- iards called the great boulder the "Fat Rock," long, long before the people of the San Gabriel Valley knew of "The Pass of Eden," a large band of Indians camped afar down the plain to- ward the sunset. The warriors lolled on the ground and told stories of combat and victory to the young men, while the squaws scratched in the soil or lugged logs for the wigwam fire, carrying their black- eyed papooses on their backs. One little baby only lay on a skin and gazed upward at the soaring birds in the sky. Suddenly, in one mighty circle, an eagle dropped upon it and, seizing it in its talons, arose swiftly and flew eastward toward the great rock. Soon the whole band aroused, were chasing the huge bird and shooting their arrows. But they could not kill him, and with shriekings and bowlings they fell upon the earth, cursing him and calling on the Sun to aid them. "Let his shadow not pass the gray rock ! Let him crush himself against it and turn to stone upon it !" they cried. 'Twas done. Dropping the infant unhurt below, he dashed against the rock, and the image there is the imprint of his huge body. Yet, for many years, these birds of prey lived in the caves below the shadow, guarding the ghost on the face of the rock, and bold indeed, were the robber pirates who dared to hide their booty, as many did, in the depths of these caverns. Early home of Julio Ve The Redman's fields once yielded Their wealth in wool and grain To searching Spaniards labors Their hopes and prayers were vain. Now, orchard^ And home! Begem the vaj Time ! K^ I Then cultured palm and pepper Replaced the natural oak And mansions fair were marking The trails that wild feet broke. 'jet are falling, happy men smiling face, pure ! Amen. When I'm coming to this Valley (Which I love above all others, Looks to me so grand and lordly, Looks to me so sweet and homely.) When I'm coming from the city, Tho' it be a town of Angels, That old eagle waves a welcome, Seems to meet. half way my coming. And when I leave this spot I treasure. Looking back on homes and gardens, On the bungalows and houses, On the hills and orange orchards, He seems politely winging — Just a brief farewell at leaving. Like some fine old host, whose parting Leaves an aching for returning. To A?i Old Sycamore Alone he stands ! An old brave warrior Of a noble band Whose strength and beauty- Graced this wondrous land, Defiant he views Death-dealing onslaughts Wrought by fire and greed And crowing inroads Of a city's need. Sadly he bends Toward haunting remnants Lost in char or mold Of mighty brethren Once as grand and bold. Live, Grand old Man ! 'Til careless mankind Learn the mighty truth That shame and sorrow Follow lack of ruth. To the Rock Birds God called the watchful wild-birds To mark this charming land, The eagle from the mountain, The pelican from the strand. ^,; When wistful eye was lifted To Him who never fails, It, passing, caught the beacons Which drew men to these vales. Eag/e Rock Valley l%':^0 A Memory ■VM^^' I am longing for that valley, I am homesick for those hills ; And afar a voice is calling me the while. Oh, my dream is of the shad- ^ ows Falling 'thwart the fields of j'l -^ grain, j "^-fe And of hollows where thei_ golden poppies smile. > _ I am cold without that sun- shine ; And no birds so sweetly sing As the songsters that wake joyful echoes there. Just the living of each day Is a rapture passing words. In the magic of that opales- cent air ! r^-^m WM.. ^r- I can feel the canyon's thral- dom ; And my wearied eyes would rest On the gray, poetic eucalyptus tree ; On the wide-winged, soaring eagle. Nature's warden of my vale. Poised forever o'er it, gazing to the sea. How I love that long grade sloping, To the pensive sunset west, Where the distant hill-tops soften in its light. Oh, the charm that so en- tranced me Holds my heart a captive still, As my soul flies back to Eagle Rock tonight. 'Wa^^w'*,,;.; We are indebted to Mrs. Sadie Bowman Metcalf for the beautiful couplet on the cover of this little book and to Sara Evans Letch- vi'orth for "A Memory," reprinted by permission of "Town and Country." I I 1 m 7 1913 LIBRftRY OF CONGRESS 017 138 454 #