By Father Thomas Hayes

VIEWED FROM OUTER SPACE, the Carquinez Strait, a Hispanic version of the Ohlone Indian name “Karkin,” appears to be a very deep scar on the surface of the Earth, the contrast with the land bordering it quite definite. It is indeed the very deepest part of the greater San Francisco Bay. The cities of Vallejo and Benicia hug the northern shore. For those who sail the bay, this stretch is infamous for strong winds and tides that even experienced sailors find challenging. As a teenager out fishing in Southampton Bay, I never realized the perils before me!

Geologists describe the formation of the San Joaquin-Sacramento River Delta as a consequence of the unusual gap in the Coast Range of mountains and hills. When the battleship USS Iowa was moved from the Reserve Fleet, destined to be turned into a museum in San Pedro, it appeared to onlookers like a toy ship in a bathtub.

At the time I mused over the reaction the makers of California must have had traversing this body of water. Many stories, some probably legendary and even fanciful, have been told about the founders of Benicia and Vallejo and their plans and dreams for a great city. Vallejo, Semple, Larkin are some of the names of the past, but I propose that none had the impact of the United States Navy and Army delegations sent to explore and establish military establishments.

Examples of this effort are a matter of record. To begin with, California in the 1840s was in tremendous flux. Fewer than 10 years before, the Mexican revolution overthrew the Spanish overlords and chaos and confusion complicated everything. It did not have to wait until the end of decade, when gold was discovered near Sutter’s Mill — that of course stirred up everything with a quantum leap. But already the political and military situation was feverish and frantic.

The Russians from their outposts to the north, the British with their global ambitions, even the French entered the fray. Who would control California? America was awash with the Manifest Destiny sentiment. Many thought it our country’s right, even duty, to expand to the West. The events in Texas and increasing tensions between the U.S. and a new entry in the geopolitical game, Mexico, prompted the sending of a “squadron” to explore — we might as well say “spy on” — Mexican activities on the Pacific coast.

The country was on the verge of war with Mexico, which would turn into reality in 1846. But the years 1840-50 would be filled with various figures who have made their mark and given their names to places throughout California. Commodore Robert Stockton, for whom the city of Stockton is named, grandson of a signer of the Declaration of Independence from New Jersey, fought the Barbary pirates, served in the War of 1812, fought the slave trade in West Africa and contributed to the establishment of the nation of Liberia before he came to California to form a provisional government in the territory. Then there was Commodore Sloat, who preceded Stockton as the first military governor of California Territory; and for our purposes and of great interest to Benicia, Commodore Thomas ap Catesby Jones, who explored, charted and strongly championed the development of Southampton Bay, which was named after one of his ships.

In 1842, under the mistaken notion that war with Mexico had already broken out — and spurred by a rumor that England was dickering with Mexico to buy California for some $7 million! — Jones “invaded and captured” Monterey for the United States. The rumor, however, was not true and when Jones discovered that the U.S. was not at war with Mexico (yet), he was forced to retire with great embarrassment. Understandably, the Mexican authorities in their own embarrassment were unhappy with Jones, sought explanations and reparations but after some negotiations in Los Angeles with Governor Micheltorena the matter was eventually dropped. Jones was censured, but later vindicated and his pay restored. It did not help his naval career but he seemed to rally from it and retired with honors, recognized for his exploits and efforts as a pioneer in investigating the waters and developing the naval presence in and around Benicia and Vallejo. His efforts eventually led to the establishment of the first United States naval base in the Pacific at Mare Island (1853). Jones became the founder of the Naval Academy in Annapolis, and he is buried in Arlington on a gentle slope downward from the Kennedy monuments.

Perhaps the best summary of this bizarre episode in the annals of naval warfare is to be found in a California State Military Museum article on the subject, written by James Risk (militarymuseum.org/NavyMexWar.html), from which I quote verbatim:

“Although war against Mexico did not break out until 12-13 May 1846, the United States conducted operations against Mexico in the Pacific about four years earlier. In September 1842, Commodore Thomas ap Catesby Jones was in command of the Pacific fleet, which at the time included the frigate United States and the sloop Cyene. Jones had learned in Lima, Peru that war with Mexico had broken out and that England had purchased California from Mexico in a secret treaty for $7 million. Jones invoked the Monroe Doctrine and set sail for Monterey, California’s capital. On 19 October 1842, the Pacific fleet of the Cyene, Dale and the United States arrived at the harbor in Monterey. Jones sent his second in command, Captain James Armstrong, ashore to demand the surrender of California. Monterey was given until 9 a.m. the next day to surrender.

“The next morning, the Pacific fleet landed 100 sailors and 50 marines, but Monterey, with its poor defenses and only 58 soldiers, offered no resistance. Jones, however, had acted prematurely. On 21 October, he went ashore himself and discovered that war had not broken out and that no treaty with England existed. He replaced the American flag and saluted the Mexican colors he had hoisted as he left the harbor. Luckily, no lives were lost by either side. Jones was later relieved of his command.”

At a point near West Ninth and I streets in Benicia, a memorial to Commodore Jones was established in the late 1970s. Inz 1982 the NSGW erected a special historical marker. Benicia Historical Society added to this a marker honoring Charlene Erwin, pioneer Benician and historian.

I invite you to go out to the Commodore Jones marker and, as I have, look westward and contemplate the setting sun and what long-time Benicians call the “Silver Gate” — with a bow to that other gate called Golden — calling to mind not just those ghost ships but the now-invisible yet always memorable men and events that have composed such an intriguing waterways tale …

Father Thomas Hayes, O.P., is a former pastoral associate at St. Dominic’s Church in Benicia. He lives in San Francisco.

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