When guests enter La Purisima Mission State Park, they’re not just visiting one of more than 200 state parks in California, they’re crossing the threshold into another time.
After parking the car and taking a stroll through the state-of-the-art visitor center, visitors cross an old oak bridge and are immediately transported to the rugged California coast, circa 1813.
To the left of a wide, dirt road sits a grassy, gopher-holed field. And to the right—contrasting starkly against the chaparral brush—is a livestock pen packed with sheep, cows, horses, and other farm animals. In front stands a beautifully rustic structure made up of sun-dried adobe and dust-covered plaster.
And all around, Chumash men, women, and children go about their daily lives—herding cattle, making tools, cooking, and cleaning—under the watchful eyes of padres and Spanish soldiers.
The scene seems like a page straight out of a California history book. But at La Purisima Mission, it’s just life as usual.
Located off Highway 246 in Lompoc, La Purisima Mission—or Mision La Purisima Concepcion de Maria Santisima—is the 11th of 21 Spanish missions built by Franciscan padres during the 18th and 19th centuries. Today, it’s recognized as the most fully restored of all of California’s missions.
Every year, approximately 130,000 people, including 12,000 school children, visit La Purisima Mission to get a glimpse of what mission life was like. Along with two churches, the mission property boasts carpenter, pottery, and blacksmith shops; living quarters and kitchens for the padres, soldiers, and skilled ranch hands; an infirmary; a dormitory for young Chumash girls and unmarried women; several gardens; and a weaving shop.
All that, however, was threatened by a budget resolution from the California State Legislature aimed at closing the state’s $26 billion deficit, which called for the closure of 220 state parks, including La Purisima Mission.
Legislators estimated closing the parks would save the state approximately $213 million over a two-year period. Many historians and environmentalists feared the closure would greatly damage the state park system. Ultimately, the Legislature decided to spare most of the parks. However, the budget plan still does require the California State Parks System to cut $8 million from its budget, meaning not all of the parks are out of the woods yet.
If La Purisima Mission is one of the parks selected for closure, Supervising Ranger Teresa Armas said, it would go into “caretaker status.”
“There would be a person here making sure that the pipes aren’t breaking and that people aren’t vandalizing it,” she said.
“But the state would retain liability, say, if someone was out hiking in the park and broke an ankle,” she noted.
And preventing people from entering the almost 200,000-acre park while in caretaker status, she said, would prove highly difficult.
“We have four signed entrances and there are plenty of other ways of getting in here,” she explained.
Additionally, the facility and all its artifacts would be inaccessible to the public.
“We would probably have to take out all the artifacts and put them in storage up in Sacramento,” Armas said. “It would be a lot of work and take a lot of money.”
But more costly than the transfer of artifacts, Armas said, would be the public’s loss of a historical monument.
“You could go to other missions, but usually only the church is retained,” she said. “You would miss out on all the other aspects of mission life.”
A living history
The history of La Purisima Mission actually begins several miles southwest of its current position. Now called Mission Vieja, that site was the mission’s location from its establishment in 1787 until an earthquake damaged it in 1812.
The park’s website, lapurisimamission.org, recounts the mission’s first quarter century as marked with many ups and downs. The Spanish government assigned two padres—Father Vicente Fuster and Father Joseph Arroita—to oversee the mission’s construction and conversion of the local Chumash population to Catholicism.
The California countryside presented quite a challenge to the padres, who were accompanied by a handful of skilled laborers and Spanish soldiers, and, later, a community of Chumash neophytes. Together, the mission’s inhabitants were charged with the task of constructing their home—the church, living quarters, workshops, storage, and water systems. Land had to be cleared so crops, orchards, and vineyards could be planted.
“Everywhere else in the world is so civilized,” head educational interpreter Ann Boggess explained during a tour of the park. “Beethoven is playing concerts in Europe, but here everything seems so primitive and rugged.”
The Chumash came to the mission with few “modern” skills, Boggess said. However, they had an innate understanding of the region and were accustomed to hard work. Under the guidance of the padres and skilled laborers, the natives learned farming, carpentry, masonry, ranching, and other trades.
But to live on the mission, the Chumash had to accept the Catholic religion. To expedite the process, the padres translated Catholic mass and catechism instruction into the native dialect.
Some historians postulate that the Chumash were first attracted to the mission because of the foreign tools, animals, and fabrics brought in on Spanish ships. The strange, new items—along with the religious rituals and music—could have intrigued a people who had their own religious ceremonies and sacred arts.
But, as tends to happen during colonization, there was a much darker side to the Chumash’s conversion. The arrival of Spanish explorers in the 1500s marked the beginning of a rapid decline of the Chumash people and culture. The introduction of foreign diseases and domestic animals, which eradicated natural food sources, severely hindered the Chumash’s ability to survive. The missions may have offered the only alternative.
Still, living at the mission didn’t protect the Chumash from other hardships. European diseases—such as smallpox and measles—and other sicknesses took their toll on the mission population. Between 1804 and 1807, there were about 500 deaths, according to historical records.
“Deaths among women and children were highest because they were kept to closed quarters,” interpreter Boggess said. “The men and boys were usually outside tending to the livestock. The women and girls were all kept inside cooking, cleaning, and weaving.”
The women also experienced a change in societal ranking, Boggess said. Compared to the Chumash culture, which valued women and let them serve in positions of power, the Spanish mission
system stemmed from a strictly regimented patriarchal society.
That sense of discipline, however, applied to both men and women when it came to adhering to mission lifestyle. Chumash converts who didn’t comply with mission rules or tried to return to their native homes were severely punished. And even when they did toe the line, the Chumash were frequently mistreated by the Spanish soldiers.
While they expected the Chumash to work and live a modest lifestyle, the padres were typically more humane to the neophytes. One of those padres—Father Mariano Payeras—maintained a position of high esteem among the people for his ability to lead both spiritually and financially. Payeras’ skills as a clergyman and businessman helped La Purisima Mission increase its wealth and form solid relations with neighboring ranchos.
When an earthquake struck in December 1812, destroying much of the mission, Payeras had the foresight to rebuild in a safer location. The new site provided direct access to a water source and El Camino Real highway, which improved communications with the other missions.
To make the mission more structurally sound, Payeras had the new buildings constructed in a linear fashion and sheltered by the surrounding hills. Together, the padres and neophytes built the new mission and its facilities within a decade.
In 1815, Payeras was rewarded for his ingenuity by being appointed president of the California missions. Rather than moving to the Carmel Mission, where the president usually lived, Payeras chose to stay at La Purisima. He served in the office, traveling between La Purisima and the other missions, until his death in 1823. He’s the only padre buried under the mission’s altar.
After Payeras’ death, life at La Purisima began to unravel. In 1824, friction between the military and neophytes exploded into an act of rebellion at all three Santa Barbara-area missions. The natives took control of La Purisima for about a month but were soon quelled by military forces, which resulted in more than a dozen Chumash deaths.
The final blow came in 1834 when the California missions were secularized and the padres left La Purisima to live at Mission Santa Inez. Within 10 years of the padres’ departure, La Purisima stood abandoned.
Rebuilding the past
In the 1840s, what was left of La Purisima Mission was sold at a public auction for a little more than $1,000. For several years, a local family raised sheep on the property and ran a general store out of the padres’ residence—the only building that remained fully intact.
By 1904, interpreter Boggess said, La Purisima was named “one of the most dilapidated missions” in the California system in a study by Helen Hunt Jackson.
At that time, the site was owned by Union Oil. But rather than explore the area for petroleum, the company chose to invest in its historical value.
“To Union Oil it was a tourist attraction—the beautiful ruins, so mysterious and kind of haunting,” Boggess said.
In the 1930s, the National Park Service showed interest in turning the site into a historical monument. Shortly after the almost 200,000-acre property was deeded over to the state, Civilian Conservation Corps crews arrived to begin the mission’s restoration.
Groups of young men, coming mostly from urban areas, were taught masonry, carpentry, and even archaeological techniques to unearth the mission’s secrets. Using scant historical records and information from the other missions, the corps resurrected La Purisima from a pile of rubble.
“The CCC put the mission back together during another time of economic duress,” Boggess said, “under a completely different kind of stimulus package.”
To ensure the mission’s historical authenticity, the corps combined construction techniques from the past with modern technology. Contractors formed foundations out of reinforced steel and cement, and then built the walls out of handmade adobe brick and cement mortar.
The construction camp was run similarly to military boot camps. The men rose to the bugle at 6 a.m. and worked through the early evening. In return, they were given three square meals a day and a small stipend to send home to their families.
“They were transformed into responsible people here,” Boggess said.
An uncertain future
The mission was dedicated as a State Historical Monument in 1941. Not long after, it was deemed the most fully reconstructed of California’s 21 missions, and went on to become a bastion of California history.
“Since 1973, volunteer docents—also known as Prelado de los Tesoros (loosely translated “Keepers of the Treasures”)—have hosted historical events for the public. On Purisima’s People Days and Mission Life Days, costumed docents portray the people who called the mission home and reenact their lifestyles by grinding corn, making tortillas, weaving, and performing other activities.
Seven full- and part-time State Parks employees, including two rangers, oversee day-to-day activities by providing security, running the brand-new visitor center, maintaining the mission and park facilities, and taking care of the animals and gardens.
Those one-of-a-kind features have become a worrisome point for the mission’s staff and volunteers.
Boggess said Prelado de los Tesoros members have found potential homes for most of the animals living on the mission grounds, but are still looking for someone to take the horses.
They’re very elderly and we want them to be able to live out the rest of their lives together,” she said.
Despite the added stress, the staff and volunteers are dedicated to keeping the mission open.
Since the governor announced his plan to possibly close the parks in May, all seven staff members have been taking three furlough days a month, which Boggess said translates to a 15 percent pay cut.
The reduction in salary is quite a blow to the staffers’ wallets, especially in today’s economic climate. But it’s something Boggess said she and her colleagues believe is well worth the sacrifice.
“It’s really an amazing place,” she said. “It’s spiritual, it’s recreational, and it’s historical. This is Lompoc’s backyard.”
Those values are things Boggess hoped legislators would take into account when composing their budget.
“We shouldn’t have to have the huge visitation. We should be able to have solace and solitude,” she said, adding that there are ways to keep La Purisima and other State Parks open without breaking the bank.
“If you’re going to close it, at least look at raising the day-use fees to fund something,” she said.
Another way of generating funds, she said, would be to establish a yearly park usage fee. To date, there have been discussions of tacking a $15 park fee onto the state’s car registration fee.
“The yearly fee for state parks is $125 right now,” Boggess said. “The $15 proposal is a deal.”
And the resulting benefits, she said, would be available to all Californians.
“It would increase and stabilize the State Parks budget. We’d be able to provide better employment, more upkeep, and more services,” she said. “All of the parks are so unique. They’re each jewels of their very own—all precious and very affordable for families, especially during a time when people need breaks and places to relax.”
Contact News Editor Amy Asman at aasman@santamariasun.com.
This article appears in Jul 23-30, 2009.