Wednesday, March 5, 2014

Travel Photo Thursday - San Diego CA

March 2014 - San Diego CA

As one of the oldest cemeteries in southern California, El Campo Santo (which means "The Holy Field" in Spanish), this little cemetery contains the remains of pioneering San Diego families. One of the graves here is that of Yankee Jim Robinson, who was hanged at the site of the famously haunted Whaley House, just two blocks away.

477 bodies were buried in El Campo Santo, but not all of them stayed within the walls of the cemetery.

In 1863 Cassidy married his first wife Rosa Serrano, daughter of José Antonio Serrano and Rafaela Nieves Aquilar. Rosa was only 15 at the time, and she died a few years later, on February 11, 1870. Around the time of his marriage, he acquired Rancho Pauma in San Luis Rey from his father-in-law.

Some of the graves near the front wall have lovely geranium bushes growing over them; even in the winter they still retained some of their fuchsia blooms.

In the late 1880s a horse-drawn streetcar track was built through part of the cemetery. The road later became San Diego Avenue. In 1942 it was finally paved over, leaving as many as 18 graves under the street and sidewalk. These are marked by small brass plates reading "GRAVE SITE".

Interesting as I had never heard the name Hanora until a few months ago when researching my maternal great great grandparents and discovered her name was Hanora.

My name is Melchior. I am a Roman Catholic Christian and an Indian of this locale. I was born one year after the arrival of the missionaries and soldiers. I may have been baptized by Father Serra at the Presidio, but I never knew. As a child and a young man, I heard about the murder of the Priest Father Luis Jayme at the mission. I remember the execution of four local Indian Chieftains who took part in an uprising in 1778 here in San Diego. I witnessed the coming of the Mexicans and then the Americans. I heard about the Battle of San Pasqual in 1846, and of Warner Springs Indian uprising of the early 1850s. I was in the crowd of Indians present for the execution of Indian Chieftain Antonio Garra in 1852. His grave is not far from here. In 97 years, I saw Old Town grow from a pueblo to a city. I've seen the happy and sad times in San Diego. I remember many things, but I am very old now, and I am very sleepy. Let me rest. Pray for me. My name is Melchior.

The grave of a young child had some toys, stickers, candy and pennies laying on it. 

For more photos of San Diego click on links below.


  1. Jackie, we bloggers think alike - blog sisters, I think Nancie labeled us when I wrote on her post this week that I had done a post on a cemetery in Maui and pulled it for the Sevastopol one I posted instead and now I see you were on the same wave length as the two of us. Loved your photos and the story of this historic place!

  2. Interesting that both you and Nancie have a cemetery post. I was at one last week reading and photographing headstones. That one referring to Maria as "An Indian Babe" made me smile. Had no idea they were referring to women as babes back in 1867. Too bad the street has paved over some of the graves. It's good that they've put up a plaque but I wonder if they kept a list of the names.

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