A Tour of California's Spanish Missions

A poignant reminder of the region's fraught history, missions such as San Miguel are treasured for their stark beauty

  • By Jamie Katz
  • Photographs by Todd Bigelow
  • Smithsonian magazine, May 2011, Subscribe
View More Photos »
San Miguel bell tower
The missions—built between 1769 and 1823 and extending in a chain of 600 miles from Sonoma to San Diego—stand as symbols of California's Spanish colonial past. Pictured is San Miguel's bell tower. (Todd Bigelow)

Photo Gallery (1/16)

Shirley Macagni

Explore more photos from the story

Related Books

The California Missions: History, Art, and Preservation

by Edna E. Kimbro, Julia G. Costello and Tevvy Ball
The Getty Conservation Institute (Los Angeles), 2009

More from Smithsonian.com


(Page 2 of 2)

On the morning of December 22, 2003, a quake registering a magnitude of 6.5 jolted California’s Central Coast, seriously damaging buildings at Mission San Miguel, including the church and the friars’ living quarters. Experts feared the cracked walls of the sanctuary could collapse, destroying its historic murals.

Overcoming these challenges has required an ongoing collaborative effort among engineers, architects, conservators, archaeologists and other specialists—backed by foundations and other groups seeking to raise more than $12 million. The top priority was seismic strengthening of the mission church, which took two years and drew on cost-effective, minimally invasive techniques pioneered by the Getty Seismic Adobe Project. Anthony Crosby, preservation architect for Mission San Miguel, describes the chief aim of seismic retrofitting in one word: ductility—“the ability of a system to move back and forth, swell and shrink, and return to where it was in the beginning.”

Since the church’s reopening in October 2009, increasing attention has focused on preserving its murals and woodwork. “Walking into the church, you really are transported back,” says wall painting conservator Leslie Rainer, who’s assisting on the project. “It’s the experience you would want to have of the early California missions, which I find lacking in some of the others.” Rainer also appreciates the countryside and the nearby town of Paso Robles, a mecca for food and wine enthusiasts. “There’s an old plaza, a historic hotel and fancy little restaurants,” she says. “Then you go up to San Miguel and you have the mission. It’s all spectacular scenery, valleys and then hills, and it’s green and beautiful at the right time of year,” late autumn into spring.

It has taken more than expert teams to revive Mission San Miguel’s fortunes. Shirley Macagni has brought in Salinan families and friends to help out, too. One day she organized volunteers to make hundreds of new adobe bricks using soil from the mission grounds. “That was a great experience for all of us,” she says. “The children really, really appreciated it, knowing that our ancestors were the ones that built the mission.” She pauses to savor the thought. “Hey, we built this. We made these bricks and we built it. And now look at it. Even the earthquake didn’t knock it down.”

Jamie Katz reports frequently on history, culture and the arts. Photographer Todd Bigelow lives in Los Angeles.


Shirley Macagni, a 78-year-old retired dairy rancher and great-grandmother of seven, is an elder of the Salinan tribe, whose members have inhabited California’s Central Coast for thousands of years. Macagni calls her oak-dotted ancestral region, a largely unspoiled terrain of orchards, vineyards and cattle ranches, a “landscape that still stirs people’s imaginations.”

Spanish settlers, arriving in the late 1700s, would decimate the tribe through smallpox, servitude and other depredations; resistance was dealt with harshly, and, says Macagni, fewer than a thousand Salinan survive today. The Spaniards’ legacy is complicated, and, Macagni feels, it is unfair to judge 18th-century attitudes and actions by contemporary standards. “They didn’t deliberately say they’re going to destroy people,” she says. “Records show that [the Salinan] were housed and fed and taught. My [ancestral] line developed into some of the best cattlemen and cowboys in the country. They learned that through the Spanish padres and the army that came with them.”

By delving into 18th-century parish archives, Macagni has documented her family’s links to the region’s earliest European outposts: Franciscan missions founded to convert the native population and extend Spain’s colonial empire northward into virgin territory the settlers called Alta (Upper) California. Macagni is especially proud of the Salinan connections to Mission San Miguel, Arcángel, ties that go back to its founding in 1797. She has fond memories of childhood outings and fiesta days there. “For as long as I can remember,” she says, “tribal members, the elders and the children were held in great regard.” Although she is not Catholic—she follows tribal beliefs—Macagni became active in fundraising efforts to preserve and restore Mission San Miguel after it was badly damaged in 2003 by the San Simeon earthquake. “It’s not just my history,” she says. “It’s part of the history of our whole country.”

Nestled in a remote valley, Mission San Miguel was the 16th of 21 missions built between 1769 and 1823 in a chain that stretches 600 miles from San Diego to Sonoma. Each was a day’s journey on horseback from the next along the fabled El Camino Real, which roughly corresponds to today’s U.S. Highway 101. Spanish settlement—its presidios (forts), pueblos (towns) and missions—gave rise to Los Angeles, San Francisco, San Jose and other urban centers that underlie California’s standing as the nation’s most populous state (37.3 million), home to nearly one out of eight Americans.

For many, the missions lie at the very heart of the state’s cultural identity: cherished symbols of a romanticized heritage; tourist destinations; storehouses of art and archaeological artifacts; inspirational settings for writers, painters and photographers; touchstones of an architectural style synonymous with California itself; and active sites of Catholic worship (in 19 of the 21 churches). “There are few institutions in California that have become imbued with a comparable range and richness of significance,” says Tevvy Ball, author, with Julia G. Costello and the late Edna E. Kimbro, of The California Missions: History, Art, and Preservation, a lavishly illustrated volume published in 2009 by the Getty Conservation Institute.

Not long after Mexico achieved independence from Spain in 1821, the missions were secularized. “Following the gold rush in 1848 and California statehood in 1850,” Ball says, “the missions were largely forgotten and were often viewed as relics of a bygone civilization by the new American arrivals.” Gradually, by the 1870s and ’80s, the landmarks gained popularity. “The romance of the missions was spread by an assortment of boosters and writers, some of whom had a deeply genuine love of the mission heritage,” Ball adds. “And through their efforts over the next few decades, the missions became, particularly in Southern California, the iconic cornerstones of a new regional identity.” The uplifting tale of the Franciscans spreading Christian civilization to grateful primitives—or the “mission myth,” as it has come to be known—omits uncomfortable truths. Yet the power of that traditional narrative largely accounts for the missions’ survival today, Ball says.

What distinguishes mission san miguel is its stark authenticity—no romantic reinventions of history—just the real thing, much as it might have appeared generations ago. Of the 21 missions, San Miguel contains the only surviving original church interior. An extraordinary profusion of colors, materials and designs—including original Native American motifs—has remained largely intact from the time of their creation. Ornamentation is executed in a palette of pale green, blue, pink, lavender, red and yellow pigments. The richly decorated retablo, or altarpiece, includes a painted statue of the mission’s patron saint, gazing skyward at a rendering of the all-seeing eye of God, depicted as floating within a diaphanous cloud. Much of the work was designed by a celebrated Catalan artist, Esteban Munras, and is believed to have been executed by Salinan artisans who had converted to Christianity.

Unlike other missions, where original motifs were modified, painted over or covered with plaster, San Miguel benefited from a kind of benign neglect. “It was in a small rural community and didn’t have a lot of money, so it was left alone—that’s kind of the miracle of San Miguel,” says archaeologist Julia Costello. “The bad news, of course, is that it sits pretty much near an earthquake fault.” Specifically, the San Andreas fault.

On the morning of December 22, 2003, a quake registering a magnitude of 6.5 jolted California’s Central Coast, seriously damaging buildings at Mission San Miguel, including the church and the friars’ living quarters. Experts feared the cracked walls of the sanctuary could collapse, destroying its historic murals.

Overcoming these challenges has required an ongoing collaborative effort among engineers, architects, conservators, archaeologists and other specialists—backed by foundations and other groups seeking to raise more than $12 million. The top priority was seismic strengthening of the mission church, which took two years and drew on cost-effective, minimally invasive techniques pioneered by the Getty Seismic Adobe Project. Anthony Crosby, preservation architect for Mission San Miguel, describes the chief aim of seismic retrofitting in one word: ductility—“the ability of a system to move back and forth, swell and shrink, and return to where it was in the beginning.”

Since the church’s reopening in October 2009, increasing attention has focused on preserving its murals and woodwork. “Walking into the church, you really are transported back,” says wall painting conservator Leslie Rainer, who’s assisting on the project. “It’s the experience you would want to have of the early California missions, which I find lacking in some of the others.” Rainer also appreciates the countryside and the nearby town of Paso Robles, a mecca for food and wine enthusiasts. “There’s an old plaza, a historic hotel and fancy little restaurants,” she says. “Then you go up to San Miguel and you have the mission. It’s all spectacular scenery, valleys and then hills, and it’s green and beautiful at the right time of year,” late autumn into spring.

It has taken more than expert teams to revive Mission San Miguel’s fortunes. Shirley Macagni has brought in Salinan families and friends to help out, too. One day she organized volunteers to make hundreds of new adobe bricks using soil from the mission grounds. “That was a great experience for all of us,” she says. “The children really, really appreciated it, knowing that our ancestors were the ones that built the mission.” She pauses to savor the thought. “Hey, we built this. We made these bricks and we built it. And now look at it. Even the earthquake didn’t knock it down.”

Jamie Katz reports frequently on history, culture and the arts. Photographer Todd Bigelow lives in Los Angeles.


Single Page « Previous 1 2

    Subscribe now for more of Smithsonian's coverage on history, science and nature.



 

Add New Comment


Name: (required)

Email: (required)

Comment:

Comments are moderated, and will not appear until Smithsonian.com has approved them. Smithsonian reserves the right not to post any comments that are unlawful, threatening, offensive, defamatory, invasive of a person's privacy, inappropriate, confidential or proprietary, political messages, product endorsements, or other content that might otherwise violate any laws or policies.

Comments (4)

Fascinating article, but it is myth-making of its own. The fatuous account of history is one example. The Missionization of California was a brutal process, and just because one “survivor” can be found to supply quotes to the contrary does not change facts sufficiently to justify this rosy account. The article is also full of odd and false assertions, which good fact checking by Smithsonian could have weeded out. Among these: • San Miguel has “the only surviving original church interior.” Reading this, one would assume what you see today is what was built in the early 1800s. How could that be when the place fell out of use, was abandoned, and the sanctuary used for such abusive things as an auto repair garage? In fact, San Miguel has undergone extensive change, revision, remodeling and restoration just like the other surviving missions. • The mission is “nestled in a remote valley.” Really? It’s about 100 feet from US 101, the main freeway linking Los Angeles and San Francisco. Hardly remote. It’s in the Salinas Valley, which is another indication of how unremote it is. Perhaps the author confused San Miguel with Jolon, the next mission northwards, which is indeed in a remote valley. • Implying that the San Simeon earthquake, which badly damaged the poorly maintained tall adobe walls of San Miguel, had anything to do with the San Andreas fault is just plain wrong. That earthquake was centered in the coastal mountains southwest of San Miguel, near San Simeon – thus the name -- , on an unnamed fault, of which there are many in the region. The San Andreas lies eastwards, and this particular fault section moves regularly, thus far with no apparent effect on San Miguel. Whether the engineering modifications to this old building protect in the next quake, well time will tell. I could go on with other examples, but the point is made that this article is sufficiently full of errors to reflect poorly on Smithsonian’s fact checking.

Posted by Allan on August 9,2012 | 01:00 PM

For those who may be interested in the California Missions, there is a very informative exhibit of scale models of all 21 of them in a Missions Museum at the Cline Cellars Winery in Sonoma, CA. Below is the link to their web site, with a copy of a portion of their page which describes the models of the missions. A brief history of each mission is presented next to each model.

http://www.clinecellars.com/missionsmuseum

Missions Museum -- walk the entire mission trail under one roof

Beginning in 1769 and for the next 50 years, Spanish Missions were built along California’s “El Camino Real”. Spanning 650 miles from San Diego to Sonoma, the El Camino Real and the Missions that occupy it are a rare legacy of California history.

In 1939, the California Mission Models made their debut at the World’s Fair at Treasure Island. Their construction was based upon two years of research and was completed by a team of German cabinetmakers under the direction of Italian artist Leon Bayard de Volo. All were designed to scale, are faithful representations of the original missions, and are finely detailed down to the shrubbery and the figures utilized. Materials used in their construction include wood, clay, glass, cast iron, paperboard and real plant material. As a collection, the models are acclaimed as an extraordinary and accurate depiction of California history.

In 1998, the Cline Family saved the models from being auctioned off individually, and in 2005 created the museum as a fitting showcase for these historical treasures. In addition to the models, the museum also features a life-size figure of Father Junipero Serra and two stained-glass panels originally housed in Mission Dolores prior to the 1906 earthquake.

The courtyard garden and picnic areas make the California Missions Museum a must-see destination for both children and adults. Entrance is free of charge.

Hours of operation: 10:00am to 4:00 pm

www.californiamissionsmuseum.com

Posted by Jerry Tennant on June 12,2011 | 07:22 PM

As a native of San Miguel, I'm really not sure whether to say thanks for this lovely article about the unique historic value of our mission or to feel unrepresented by its gloss coverage of the community that has the mission in its very dna. The people you present in the article are admirable in their dedication to preservation and to the historic builders and artisans of Mission San Miguel, post 2003. But where are the people who protected and preserved this church for many decades Before the 2003 earthquake? Where are Mission San Miguel's friends and neighbors in your article?

I grew up in this town of well under a thousand residents, with the humble Franciscan brothers, the volunteer gardeners, the choir members, the alter boys/girls, the women who dusted and polished and put out the weekly mass materials. The annual fiesta meat-grillers and bean-cookers and kids-carnival barkers -- all giving their time to support a vibrant, living, intrinsic part of our town. I volunteered, myself, in the mission gift shop as a teen. I was a wise man in La Posada.

One of the last beloved members of our town to be buried in the mission's cemetery gave untold hours to the maintenance and preservation of his church. We grew up with stories of his contributions, as he re/built sections of the grounds, like the low wall surrounding the mission. Some 60 years ago, he reversed a vaccum's suction in order to sand-blast the new wall, thus giving it an appropriately weathered appeal. Man, he was hopping mad when one of the fathers sent someone out to stucco over the worn patches.

I'm just saying that Mission San Miguel is the historic treasure it is (and in my opinion the jewel of the chain of missions)Because it is a living, current, integral part of the people of San Miguel. It's not mere history to us. Still, I'm very pleased the Smithsonian found it as remarkable as we do. Come visit again!

Posted by Laura on May 30,2011 | 11:06 PM

Re the picture of the "San Miguel Bell Tower".
The mission bell which is rung daily at noon and 6 pm for the Angelus and for special occasions at Mission San Miguel hangs in a beautiful stone bell tower in the cemetery adjacent to the building. The bell weighs over 2000 pounds and has a deep tone. Sadly, this 'working' mission belltower is often overlooked.
It was designed and built in the late 1930s by Jess Crettol, a French-Swiss immigrant who was a stonemason and specialist in making and building with adobe. He moved his family to San Miguel around 1934 from Wasco CA to restore destroyed portions of the original quadrangle and help with restoration.
The iconic brick bell tower so often pictured holds cement bells and was built in the 1950s when a new wing was added to the mission as a novitiate. Jess Crettol's son Jesse made all the adobe for the project which he built with help from his father and novices who were studying at the mission at the time.
I have been a parishioner at the mission for 65 years.

Posted by Lynne Schmitz on May 29,2011 | 12:22 AM




Advertisement

Follow Us





First Name
Last Name
Address 1
Address 2
City
State   Zip
Email


Travel with Smithsonian




Smithsonian Store