This beautiful portrait of an indigenous woman from Monterey was drawn circa 1790 by an unidentified visiting artist. Her hair is short, a sign of mourning, not surprising with the high death rate at Mission San Carlos.

She wears feathered basketry ear ornaments with strands of dangling Olivella shells reaching to her shoulders, and a necklace of whole Olivella shell beads. Her rabbit fur cloak is for warmth, and covering her lower body is a back skirt made of deer hide, with stranded front apron. She holds a basket made by weavers in her community.

Baptized “Neomesia” one day after her birth at Mission San Carlos, she was known throughout her community as “Omesia.” She was born to Rumsen speaking parents who had originated from Kallentaruk at today’s Moss Landing. She was a fluent Rumsen language speaker, and her husband spoke some Esselen. In later years, she was able to share Esselen vocabulary, which has helped Esselen people learn some of their ancestral language today.

Omesia’s greatest contribution to contemporary Rumsen community was unintentional — living her life and speaking Rumsen language daily in the frequent company of Loreta Onésimo Meadows and Loreta’s daughter Isabel. Through this long-term relationship, Isabel learned much Rumsen language and shared that knowledge with linguist John P. Harrington in the 1930’s, thereby preserving it for future generations.

Born at Mission San Carlos in 1811, Mariano’s paternal family originated from Ensen and his mother’s family from the Carmel Valley villages of Tucutnut and Echilat. As an adult, Mariano was well-known for his unusually tall height and the fact that he had never worn shoes. Indian people were given Spanish names when baptized in Catholic ceremony at the missions, but not surnames. Since he later went by the full name Mariano Largo, it seems reasonable to assume that Largo (which means “long” in Spanish) was a nickname that stuck and eventually became his surname.

People who had known Mariano recalled that his feet were so tough he could walk over thorns and he would strap spurs directly onto his bare feet. His beloved wife Merced died long before he did, and in his later years he often walked around Monterey alone, muttering things that often included his wife’s name. While in town, people regularly invited him into their homes for a meal. He died in 1883, not long after this photo was taken, just two months shy of his 72nd birthday.

One of the most beautiful windows into Rumsen customs comes from Mariano’s memory — after giving birth, women laid on a warm earth oven filled with bracken fern fronds, willow branches, and other fresh herbage. The new baby was with her and both were kept warm for several days as they rested. Long into his old age, Mariano still recalled the herbal fragrance that the woman gave off — a nostalgic memory of better times.

Isabel Meadows, daughter of Loreta Onésimo and James Meadows, was born at a time of political change in the Monterey area. The American flag had just been raised over the Monterey Custom House, signifying the official end of Mexican rule in Alta California and the beginning of the American period. In three short years, gold would be discovered at Sutter’s Fort in Sacramento, further changing the dynamics of local life as the majority of men flocked to the gold fields, leaving Monterey far different from the small but bustling town it had been.

Though born during these changing times, Isabel was surrounded by Rumsen language and traditions still being practiced by her mother and other Rumsen community members not long relocated from the newly-secularized Mission San Carlos. Loreta was born at Mission San Carlos in 1817, Loreta’s mother Maria Ignacia was born there in 1800, and Maria Ignacia’s mother Lupicina was born about 1772 in the village of Ensen. Lupicina was about 20 years old when she and the whole village were taken to Mission San Carlos. This was one of many community stories that Isabel heard spoken of over the years.

Around 1932, Isabel met linguist and ethnographer John P. Harrington and began the first of many years of work with him to share her vast knowledge of local history, Rumsen culture, family relationships, and Rumsen language. From these many years of collaboration, tribal scholars of today have of the resources to piece together precious cultural knowledge that could easily have been lost forever.

Isabel eventually traveled with Harrington to Washington, D.C., where he worked for the American Bureau of Ethnology (later known as the Smithsonian Institution). While there, she lived with him as they continued their important work together until she passed away in her sleep one night at age 93.

Viviana was born at Mission San Carlos (Baptism #3312) to an Esselen father, Salvador (son of Mucjay) from the village of Sargentaruk, and Rumsen mother Inez. Inez, whose parents and grandparents had ties to the Rumsen villages of Echilat and Tucutnut, was born at Mission San Carlos.

Viviana lived the entirety of her long life in the Monterey region, including Carmel Valley, Monterey, and Corral de Tierra near Salinas. She was a fluent Rumsen speaker. It is unclear why or when the surname Soto was adopted by Viviana’s parents.

In 1902, anthropologist Alfred Kroeber of UC Berkeley visited Monterey and recorded Viviana singing a number of Rumsen songs. These songs, along with two Esselen songs and several Purísima Chumash songs, were recorded on wax cylinders, which have been archived on the UC Berkeley campus, currently at the Phoebe Hearst Museum.

In one of these songs, Viviana was joined by Jacinta Gonzales (see next Ancestor profile) and they ended the duet laughing. One can only imagine the memories the songs revived and the fun they must have had singing together in that new century.

During that 1902 visit, Kroeber also interviewed Viviana and Jacinta, making notes about language and local native customs. In 1906, Viviana and Jacinta were visited by another University of California scholar, C. Hart Merriam. While with Merriam, they shared considerable Rumsen vocabulary and other cultural knowledge that is a treasure trove for Rumsen people today.

Jacinta was born at Mission San Carlos in the Spring of 1835. Her parents were also born there. But her paternal grandfather was a 9-year-old boy from the village of Sargentaruk near Big Sur when baptized in 1782, providing a record of his father’s and mother’s native names—Patthar and Churmus. Jacinta’s other family members were associated with the Rumsen villages of Achista and Tucutnut, and the Rumsen-speaking Ensen people.

The village name “Sargentaruk” is clearly Rumsen language, and it seems to have been the most southern village of Rumsen speaking people. However, imprecise descriptions in early mission baptismal records have made it impossible to pinpoint its exact location. Likely candidates are at today’s Andrew Molera State Park or perhaps a bit further north at the Little Sur River. Because of its proximity to Esselen territory, some scholars have suggested it could have been a bilingual village of mixed Rumsen and Esselen speakers.

We may never settle the question, but in interviews with Alfred Kroeber (see previous Ancestor profile for Viviana Soto) in January of 1902, Jacinta identified herself as from “Sur,” and the placename as “Kakoontaruc” or “Sirxintaruc.” She also said that the language spoken at “Sur” was the same as that spoken at Carmel. During these interviews, she shared Rumsen language and recorded a southern Rumsen story. It is the only lengthy recording of spoken Rumsen language, offering a rare opportunity to hear its rhythm.

If all this wasn’t enough, Jacinta made another lasting contribution to Rumsen language preservation by sharing information with C. Hart Merriam in 1906. At this time, she stated that Kakoontaruc was the name of their old village at Sur and that their language was the same as that of the Achista village of Monterey and closely related to Rumsen.

In late 1879, at age 56, Jacinta met Robert Louis Stevenson, at the time a young aspiring writer who spent three months in Monterey. Stevenson was in dangerously poor health and Jacinta cared for him, nursing him with herbal remedies. According to his letters, Stevenson was grateful to Jacinta for the rest of his life. We are truly grateful to her as well!

Manuel “Panocha” Onésimo was the son of Juan Onésimo and Polonia Cruz. The Onésimo surname was adopted from the name Juan’s father (San Carlos Baptism #2105) had been given at the time of his baptism at Mission San Carlos in 1796. During mission times, Juan was a musician, playing violin to accompany the Indian choir. For many years, his violin was a prized family memento that was eventually given to Mission San Carlos. Now no one at the mission seems to know what became of it.

Manuel didn’t learn to speak the Rumsen language, but he did provide other cultural information to linguist/ethnographer John P. Harrington in the 1930’s. Of special importance were his recollections of traditional Rumsen stories he had heard told throughout his life by elder Roman Alvarez. Harrington made audio recordings of Manuel Onésimo telling what he recalled of these stories, in particular “Cuando Se Acabó El Mundo” (When the World Ended). These recordings were made on aluminum discs and are archived at the Smithsonian in Washington, D.C. They are now available online in digital format.

The Manuel Onésimo family was somewhat unique in terms of blood lines, as Manuel married his first cousin Manuela Onésimo, daughter of Juan Onésimo’s brother Diego. But in spite of the fact that Manuel and Manuela had at least eight children together, it appears that only their daughter Maria Onésimo Ramirez kept the lineage alive through the births of her four children. While the Onésimo surname did not carry on, many generations of this family continue to live in the Monterey and San Francisco Bay Areas today.

In May of 1856, Magdalena Peralta gave birth to her first and only child, José Hitchcock. Magdalena had been born at Mission San Carlos in 1834, herself the first-born child of Loreta Onésimo (Rumsen) and her first husband Quirino (Esselen).

José’s father was Isaac Hitchcock, from the state of New York, who arrived in Monterey in January of 1847 aboard a U.S. naval ship. Six months earlier, on July 7, 1846, Commodore Sloat and his troops had entered the Monterey harbor, raising the American flag over Monterey’s Custom House. They claimed Monterey and all of Alta California as American territory, the result of America’s victory in its war with Mexico. Isaac Hitchcock spent the balance of his enlistment period working in Monterey, and when it came to an end in 1851, he remained in the area, living in Monterey County until his death in 1881.

While the details of their relationship are minimal, it is clear that Isaac Hitchcock met Magdalena Peralta of Carmel Valley, for in May of 1856 their son José Hitchcock was born. Carmel Valley was cattle country and José grew up in the saddle, becoming a topnotch horseman and vaquero. It was as a vaquero that he made his living and supported his family, working on various local ranches, including the 9,000-acre Rancho El Pescadero, today known as Pebble Beach. That he was entrusted with positions of great responsibility implies that he was trustworthy, hardworking, honest, and reliable, as he often worked many years for the same cattle ranchers.

Life as a vaquero meant long hours in the saddle — driving cattle from Carmel Valley to Salinas for necessary pasture, to Gonzales for the fattening fields, or to the railway headed for the cattle market; rounding up strays; rounding up calves for branding; rescuing cows stranded in mud; and separating out steers ready for market. It also meant being a skilled horseman — knowing how to break and train a horse, and making your own rawhide riatas (lassos), quirts, and bridle reins. Imagine controlling a forty-foot riata, which was the typical length, throwing it at a moving target and having it land reliably over the cow’s head. And some vaqueros preferred a 60-foot riata!

With the coming of the Spanish to coastal California, also came their cattle, and Native men adapted into that niche, finding freedom from the constraints of typical mission life, and becoming some of California’s most skilled vaqueros. José Hitchcock continued this tradition, passing on the legacy to one of his sons, Joseph Hitchcock, Jr, grandfather of some of today’s Rumsen Ohlone Tribal Community members. Both father and son are buried in downtown Monterey’s Catholic cemetery, representing a blending of Rumsen, Esselen, and American lineages.

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