[Noozhawk’s note: Second in a series. Click here for the first article, click here for the third, click here for the fourth, and click here for the fifth.]
In 1935, Lillian Bailey Brown Beale Child, the widow of millionaires, lived on one of the most stunning estates in Southern California.
Her 17 acres were on a picturesque knoll across from Santa Barbara’s East Beach. The Child Estate, as it was called by local Barbareños, had it all. It had a magnificent mansion; it had beautiful gardens; it had commanding views of the town, the mountains and the Pacific Ocean.
It also had hobos.
Child’s property was not far from the railroad tracks and the highway. Just a quarter-mile up from her property were Santa Barbara’s switchyards, which were the perfect jumping-off point for any vagabond.
So, the story starts that one of Santa Barbara’s finest was chasing three hobos along the railroad just north of Child’s property.
Curious, she wanted to know what crime the hobos had just committed, and the police officer’s answer surprised her.
“Nothing,” he replied,“but they might try something.”
Upon further inquiry, Child determined that the transients had not done anything wrong, nor had they any known record of misdemeanors.
So she insisted that the police allow the transient workers to stay — on her own property — in a grove at the end of the estate.
Child allowed them to build their makeshift homes on her land with the condition that they would keep the place clean and sanitary, allow no drinking or drugs, and that they would police themselves.
The hobos on her estate thus began their pilgrimage around the mid-1930s. It was the middle of the Great Depression, and these single men were mostly older gentlemen — over the age of 50.
Child’s first visitors built a half-dozen shacks out of scraps they found in the city dump. When she saw that the men were intent on organizing themselves, she arranged for a water pipe and an electric wire be extended from her garage to the grove.
The men found old cans to bring in for collecting garbage, and then dug a larger garbage pit. They brought out brooms to clear the grounds and to sweep their floors.
Old chairs and sofas, odd doors and windows, cardboard or corrugated steel pieces — it all came together in the original “shabby chic” décor of hapless homes among the eucalyptus trees.
For a communal kitchen, the men created an outdoor barbecue pit out of old bricks and sheet iron. And they maintained a vegetable garden.
The residents had a pot of hot water ready for any newcomers, who were required to “boil up” all their clothes to ensure no vermin accompanied the box car riders into their new home.
The “main drag” along the hovels was named “The Fringe of Time” by one of the residents, “Mayor” Bert Miller in 1939.
And the entire area was either lovingly or disparagingly referred to by the town folk as “Hobo Haven,” “Childville,” “Hoboville,” “Hobo Jungle” or even “Millionaire’s Row.”
Who Were the Hobos?
Although the terms “hobos,” “tramps,” “vagrants” and “transients” ostensibly seem interchangeable, the hobos would disagree.
They were not tramps — they declared — because tramps didn’t work. Hobos were always willing to work, and most had some regular job to keep them busy during the week.
Hobos would walk through industrial neighborhoods such as Haley Street, and ask pleasantly if there were any tasks they could do for business owners.
A hobo might even state what he wanted to earn — perhaps $20 — for a specific need: to buy a new coat, or to purchase food for two weeks.
And they were willing to work for it.
For instance, Hoboville resident Ross John Miller was a regular caddie at the Montecito Country Club, while Tom Conway liked the variety of working odd jobs. John Carver worked in laundry at the old County Hospital. Frank Allman followed the harvests.
In the 1940s, one journalist interviewed the men about their lives and their backgrounds. He found they were not ignorant and some were surprisingly well-educated.
Among the gang, he found an artist, a cook, a wood carver, a dentist, a physician, a gardener, a minister, a criminal lawyer and two professors as samples of the motley crowd.
The Irish American writer Jim Tully lived in Childville for a while, as did Wobblies (Industrial Workers of the World) cartoonist Joe Troy.
Other than their marginal homesteads, the hobos were an intelligent and engaged group.
They were registered to vote and did, subscribed to the daily Santa Barbara News-Press and other periodicals. One gentleman kept a radio.
They wrote letters to the editor of the local newspaper and, for some citywide charitable campaigns, the men would take up a collection among themselves and contribute.
Hobo Home Culture
It was important to note that the men who lived there were not considered homeless; they were bona fide hobos — homeless by choice.
They pursued their lifestyle, and had no use for the more conventional trappings. They traveled by hitching unofficial rides on freight trains, and jumping off in various towns where they would stay anywhere from a few days to even a few years.
Childville, as it developed, actually served as a retirement home for these hobos, who no longer worked. Most had very modest pensions or Social Security payments to survive on.
And they preferred to be together at Childville.
One hobo explained their preference:
“Some of the old men have been here for years. Nine of them are unable to walk. If they had to leave here, the city would have to put them into a home. That would be more expensive and they are quite happy here. I often think you couldn’t have any nicer neighbors on any other kind of neighborhood than we fellows have here.”
And Child’s benevolence made it all possible for their rent-free existence.
Her generosity was legendary. Child would pass out Christmas gifts to the men in her grove every year. Noting one man’s dilapidated shoes, she arranged for him to have new ones.
She provided food often and also allowed the men to enter her kitchen through the back door if they needed to get food from the ice box.
One day she came home ready to prepare a roast chicken she had left on her kitchen counter. Puzzled that it wasn’t there, she began to look around when a man’s voice came through the open window.
“If it’s the chicken you’re looking for, it’s in the ice box,” he said. “It’ll keep better in there.”
Sure enough, the chicken was found in the safer environment … with only a drumstick missing.
At Childville, the itinerate workers insisted on helping out to show their gratitude to Child.
They assisted the gardener by mowing the lawn, trimming the hedges, tending to the garden. They reported anything that needed repair to the chauffeur, who in turn would tell Child.
With Child’s approval, the hobos would gladly fix anything to help out. However, she always insisted they be paid.
Her generosity of spirit was infectious to the rest of Santa Barbara, which aided the hobos in different ways.
The Helping Hands Club installed a mailbox so the men would not have to go into town to the post office.
Every Christmas and Thanksgiving, charitable organizations such as the Council of Christmas Cheer, the predecessor of Unity Shoppe, brought them clothing, ties, small donations and wonderful holiday meals.
In 1955, Santa Barbara police Officer Noah “Stormy” Cloud created the “Cavaliers,” an interracial teenager club. They spearheaded a drive to create a utility building for the hobos.
The building provided sanitary facilities — toilet, shower, wash basin, laundry tub and a little recreation room — for the aging men on the property. The Cavaliers raised money from residents and manpower from men in the building trades.
Moving Day
In 1946, Child sold the north end parcel of her land to the neighboring Hotel Mar Monte. The hobos would now have to move their shacks off that property.
But Child wasn’t forcing them out. She personally supervised their relocation to the southern side of her property, where the condominium complex across from the East Beach volleyball courts is now located. Some of the shacks were moved to along the railroad tracks across from Dwight Murphy Park.
The men spent a day or two dismantling their shacks, loading up and wheelbarrowing the parts, and then rebuilding on the new site that Child had selected for them.
Governance
It was said that Child had a peremptory manner that hid “the kindest heart in the world.”
“I don’t care what you do as long as you put the fire out and turn the water off,” she admonished. “Don’t put your houses too close together, otherwise there will be no room for a vegetable garden.”
Child did not interfere with the men’s affairs and respected their privacy. She only asked that they police themselves — which they did.
The men had their own “mayor” and a board of two councilmen, and even boasted one man who positioned himself as their chamber of commerce.
They tossed out men who came home drunk after the second infraction, ascertained that no drugs were used, and generally kept the peace.
They maintained good relationships with the police, and wrote letters to the editor about the great assistance the police provided them from time to time.
It should be noted that there were other hobos in the area, but outside of the Child Estate property. These men were much younger, far more transient, and did have drinks, drugs and fighting.
The Childville residents were always quick to point out those men were not part of their community, and they referred to these outsiders as the “Hobo Jungle.”
Every year, on Sept. 12, the hobos observed “Deportation Day.” All the campers were required to vacate the premises for 24 hours so that they could not claim “squatters rights” and jeopardize the private ownership of the property.
This annual eviction was an orderly event, supervised by a hobo committee. They arranged for a place to move the sick men in their camp ahead of time. The others would sleep outdoors in the ocean breeze, usually on the other side of the fence.
The next day, the men would all move back in to their shacks, and prepare for their work shifts.
By 1950, seven of the 32 residents were “pioneer settlers” and had lived at the property continuously for 15 years: Joe David, a Spanish-American War pensioner; Louis Lovente; and Antonia Fries.
Troy, who got around on his bicycle, and Jake Lester, who owned a motorcycle, were original residents as well.
This group of old timers also included William Stan, who used to work at the city dump (before it was filled in and became Santa Barbara Junior High School), and Alexander Graham, who would scoop up decent material from other city dumps and peddle it in his wheelbarrow.
The hobo villagers also tenderly watched over fellow camper Isaac Perakarchi, who was deaf and could not speak, and who had also arrived in 1935.
End of an Era
In 1951, Samuel L. Curry was the mayor of Childville and generally served as the camp manager and overseer.
He lived in what the hobos called “the Castle” — formerly the head gardener’s tool shed, which overlooked Childville.
Curry also served as the postmaster and “news broadcaster.” So on Aug. 28, 1951, he took on the sad responsibility of waking up the gentlemen to let them know their benefactress and protector, Mrs. Lillian Child, had died.
Over her lifetime at Vegamar, Lillian Beale Child had hosted hundreds of gatherings, dinners and luncheons for Santa Barbara’s leading citizens and Montecito’s wealthy estate owners.
She also had hosted titled European aristocrats such as the Prince and Princess Orsini of Rome, Lord and Lady Tennyson, Marquis de La Coudraye, Lady Ribblesdale, Count and Countess de L’Arbre, Duke de Trevise and the Right Honorable Lord Shaw of Dumfermline.
And she also equally welcomed dozens of happily homeless men — the hobos.
Child’s Hobo Estate had become famous in various reports and articles published nationally and even internationally. For instance, in Stars and Stripes, the unofficial Army newspaper, for the European edition published in Bavaria.
Four years before her death, Child left her Vegamar to the Santa Barbara Foundation, which was founded to improve the welfare of its community.
It was her desire that the foundation would determine the best use of the property to serve the interests and needs of Santa Barbara, so that the estate could be used by the community.
With the deed was the proviso that Child would retain a life tenancy for herself and the itinerate residents on her property — the hobos.
Her will allowed for the hobos to remain on her property (some had been there for two decades). Approximately 32 men were living there at the time of her death, among them Gus Adams, Edward Anderson, Victor Charles Beckman, Ray Bowden, John Craver, Charlie Crow, William Evans, Frank Faye, Jack Gilmore, Harold Gomeringer, Alexander Graham, William Oscar Gray, Mylon Harlick, Leon La France, Joe Lawless, Michael Joseph Mayock, Patrick Mullane, Isaac Perakarpi, the Rev. Louis Gustaf Peterson, Carl Rieger, Frank Rogers, Joseph Shut and Robert Splan.
The questions were now: What would happen with the hobos? What would happen with the property?
Next up: Part III, From a Child’s Estate to the Santa Barbara Zoo, coming next weekend.
