indian rock native garden

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The San Luis Rey Band of Mission Indians: A Brief History

pushed off their valuable farming land. It was not until the 1870ʼs when some reservations were established for some of the San Luiseno people near Palomar Mountain. During the establishment of the reservations the San Luiseno people near the Old Mission, became known as “The San Luis Rey Band of Mission Indians.”

The negotiations for a reservation in the San Luis Rey Valley became very diffi cult, since many homesteaders believed the coastal land was valuable for farming and ranching; and wanted the land for them-selves.

Many San Luiseno Indians had no land title documents and no rights under the new American government. Not until 1924 did the United States Congress bestow citizen-ship on Native Americans. Many San Luiseno Indians relocated throughout the states wherever they could fi nd work and a home. The San Luiseno Indians learned many new trades and many joined the United States military forces.

Today many Luiseno people live on reser-vations, but most live in towns and cities. The San Luis Rey Band of Mission Indians has kept its identity as a community within the local communities that now exist on ancestral tribal lands. With an elective Leadership, committees and volunteers help

to oversee the affairs of the San Luis Rey Tribe.

Today the San Luis Rey Band of Luiseno Mission Indians is constantly challenged to save and preserve what remains of our great cultural past and to create and share its heritage with future generations. The San Luis Rey Band of Mission Indians is associated with the other six Luiseno and Cupeño tribes—La Jolla, Pala, Pauma, Pechanga, Rincon, Saboba and their cultural departments as a Tribal Coalition, Working together to preserve our sacred ancestral cultural heritage with local gov-ernments and museums.

The San Luis Rey Band of Mission Indians would like to thank its members, elders, veterans, Luiseño people, basket weavers, children, dancers and singers of the Pow-wow, gardeners, students and our cultural people for sharing their time and creating a presence in our community.

—The San Luis Rey Band of Mission Indians Tribal Council

with the largest ranching and farming com-munity in California. Mission Indian Neo-phyte Pablo Tac wrote about life at Mission San Luis Rey in the early 1830ʼs. He stated “we were the inhabitants of Quechla…not long ago there were 5,00 souls, with all

the neighboring lands.” Quechla was a neighbor-ing village to Old Mission San Luis Rey.

During the Mexican period 1832-1848, there were six Mexican Ran-

chos established. All of these ranchos were west of Pala, and built on or near a San Luiseno Indian village. These ranchos were named: Rancho Aqua Hedionda, Rancho Buena Vista, Rancho Guajome, Rancho Los Vallecitos de San Marcos, Rancho Santa Margarita y Las Flores, and Rancho Monserrate.

All of these ranchos at one time or another had San Luiseno Indians working or living on the ranchos. The San Luiseno people were not only the laborers on the ranchos. They worked in the supply stores and helped with the domestic duties as well, cooking, washing, sewing and helping raise the children.

In the beginning of the American period during the treaty negotiations of 1851, the American government wanted to con-solidate all the San Luiseno People into a single representative group by establishing one large reservation for the native inhabit-ants as was done in the mid-west. The one reservation from Palomar Mountain to San Jacinto Mountain was shelved due to protest from American settlers and state legislature to the United States Senate. Most San Luiseno people found themselves

Our ancestors tell us that from the beginning of time our people “ʻataaxam” have always occupied

the San Luis Rey Valley. Life was good and food in great abundance, due to the mild climate and year round water source from the San Luis Rey River, The Native Ameri-can people of the west “Pay-omkawichum” occupied many villages along the San Luis Rey River, the coastline, the neighbor-ing lagoons, the oak forests, the lush mead-ows, the vernal springs, the creeks and rivers to the north and south of the valley. The Payomkawichum were able to harvest the ocean and lagoons and live off the fer-tile land. Their knowledge and culture with its songs and dances were passed on from generation to generation.

With the establishment of Mission San Luis Rey on June 13, 1798, the people within the newly named San Luis Rey Valley be-came known as San Luiseno Indians. First contact with European people occurred some years prior to the founding of Mission San Luis Rey. This contact occurred as ex-plorers traveled up and down the coastline near Carlsbad and Oceanside, and as missionaries and Spanish soldiers traveled the Indian North-South trade route, also known as the El Camino Real trail between Mission San Diego (1769) and Mission San Juan Capistrano (1776).

During the Spanish period, our ancestors had to learn many different skills; which helped established a fl ourishing economy within the valley. With the help of the San Luiseno people, Mission San Luis Rey became known as “King of the Missions”

Their knowledge and culture, their songs

and dances, were passed on from generation to generation.

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“Uncle Henry” Rodriguez Henry Rodriguezʼs life can be character-ized by his distinguished service to local, state and national Native American Indian communities and by his outstanding contri-butions to education. Since the 1940ʼs, Mr. Rodriguez was a major contributor to Cali-fornia Indian politics and was a national authority on Indian water rights. One of the founders of the San Luis Rey Water Au-thority, he served as president and on the Board of Directors. He worked with state and federal authorities on environmental protection, repatriation, and health leg-islation, and was instrumental in bringing healthcare to California reservations.

“Uncle Henry” Rodriguez served as an important elder, helping to preserve in-digenous California culture. He began in the 1940ʼs to capture traditional Luiseño songs on reel-to-reel tapes, which are currently preserved by Grossmont Col-lege. He served as chairman of the La Jolla Band of Mission Indians and was instrumental in establishing the Southern California Intertribal Council, now the California Tribal Chairmenʼs Association. Mr. Rodriguez was an active proponent of Native American Indian education. He helped to bring Head Start to a number of reservations and served as a Board Member and consultant to a number of school districts, assisting to develop curriculum with more accurate representation of local Indian people. Mr. Rodriguez was a signifi cant activist in the establishment of Native American Indian Studies programs throughout Southern California and Arizona.

Mr. Rodriguez served as one of the most signifi cant community consultants to California State University San Mar-cos since the universityʼs inception. He contributed to the organization of the Universityʼs annual Pow Wow, blessed commencement ceremonies, and partici-pated in Native American Indian gradu-ation ceremonies and the time capsule celebration. His lifetime dedication to advancement of education serves as an abiding inspiration for all of the students at Cal State San Marcos. In recognition of his many contributions to the com-munity and to his promotion of educa-tional opportunities for all students, the Board of Trustees of the California State University and California State Univer-sity San Marcos conferred the honorary degree of Doctor of Humane Letters upon “Uncle Henry” Rodriguez on June 3, 2001.

—CSUSM librarians Bonnie Biggs and Terry Allison

“Uncle Henry” Rodriguez served as an

March 5, 1919 – February 14, 2002

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on the slippery rocks. We also can more easily sidestep the ever present and prolifi c poison oak. We note a rogue non-native geranium growing on the streambank, and we climb over boulders and fallen syca-more limbs that block our path.

In the May heat, itʼs surprisingly cool. Everything seems to thrive in this freshwater riparian ecosystem with its lush canopy of oaks, sycamores, and willows shading the creek.

Weʼre dressed head-to-toe to protect our-selves from the poison oak, and Marian is wearing her goofy aviator hat.

I stop to photograph a lizard sitting above the stream on old juncus needles and syca-more leaves.

Dark green juncus overhangs the stream bank in great profusion. We feel a bit like explorers in tropical jungles, hacking our way through the dense overgrowth. This is AWE-SOME!. This is SO SWEET! Abe, Diania, and Marian are ecstatic. This is incred-ible juncus.

There are 225 species of juncus growing worldwide, but the Juncus textilis weʼre harvesting grows only in California. Juncus is from a Latin word meaning to join or bind, referring to the indigenous use of the plant.

Itʼs diffi cult to pick up the voices of Abe, Di-ania, or Marian on video over the sound of the stream. Itʼs a fi rst—shooting video foot-age while standing ankle-deep in water on a shifting and unstable surface. Iʼm careful not drop the video camera as I climb over the boulders and under the downed syca-more branches in the streambed.

After walking about a quarter of a mile, we come to a beautiful seasonal water-fall. We climb up the rocks and sit, totally enveloped in the lush green sound of water cascading down the rocks.

Diania speculates that this area may have been a traditional gathering site for juncus, a critically important plant that profoundly helped shape Luiseño culture. In Southern California, itʼs very diffi cult to fi nd undis-turbed stands of juncus. Loss of habitat from development and the invasion of non-native species have greatly diminished riparian ecosystems that can support thick-ets of juncus.

Itʼs also extremely diffi cult to fi nd areas where juncus can grow that are not sub-jected to the spraying of pesticides and herbicides by government agencies and private landowners. This is, of course, a se-rious threat to the continuance of this vitally important cultural tradition.

Our particular juncus stand is completely hidden from view.

There are no signs that it has been harvested for years.

“This is like HEAVEN!” Marian tells us. Itʼs hard to hear each other over the sound of the

stream, so we just listen to very welcome sound

of water fl owing after the worst drought year recorded

in Southern California history.

Abe climbs the rocks above the waterfall. “Careful Abe,” we tell him. The rocks are slippery from the water and lichen, and theyʼre steep as well. Abe wears his signa-ture fi eld trip hat that he wove with juncus and deergrass. His bold and intricate de-signs are inspired from Chumash baskets. Deer alternate with mountain sheep as they circle his hat, and heʼs woven a fret-like design on the rim.

The surface of the water in the streambed where it collects in ponds is animated by tiny black skater bugs that ripple the sur-face of the still water. Abe has woven fi ve of these exuberant skater bugs in a circular pattern on the top of his hat.

GATHERING JUNCUS

Abe Sanchez, Diania Caudell, and Marian Walkingstick are Native American basket weavers. Itʼs a beautiful spring day, and weʼre hiking in the San Diego back coun-try to gather Juncus textilis, also known as basket rush, one of the most important traditional basketry plants. The dirt road to the site is deeply eroded, almost impass-able by a 4-wheel drive, so we walk from the main road.

To reach the creek where the juncus grows, we fi rst must walk by an area where people have dumped their derelict appliances, unstuffed couches, a smashed satellite dish, an outdated computer monitor, disintegrat-ing cardboard boxes, non-disintegrating plastic bags, and crushed Coors-Lite cans.

Thereʼs even a dismembered Camero with glass from its shattered windshield scat-tered everywhere. Beyond the Camero is a stand of canyon sunfl owers, rare to fi nd in the wild anymore.

The stench from a rotting carcass over-whelms the normally fragrant aroma of sage scrub. Wild grape vines have begun to grow over the debris. In the larger scheme of things, this dump is a minor transgression, but it is emblematic of a pro-found disconnection from the land, an utter indifference to its wild beauty.

The path to the creek bed is lined with black sage, sycamore and live oak trees. Rampant wild grape vines crawl up the trees and carpet the ground. Wild black-berry vines cover the ground and stream-banks as well. We spot a rogue non-native calla lily escaped from someoneʼs back-yard. Everywhere there are last seasonʼs sycamore leaves from the huge old trees growing on either side of the stream. We hear the intermittent croak of an invisible frog and birdsong above the sound of the water fl owing in the creek.

We opt to walk upstream in the creekbed. Itʼs more stable in the shallow water than sh

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