In the last two decades of the Nineteenth Century, the human assault on the California condors increased dramatically. For the 100 years prior to 1880, I found approximately 100 records of condor mortality. For 1880 to 1899, I have 170 records. Random shooting (for sport or curiosity) still ranked high as a mortality factor, accounting for about 25 per cent of the records. The major increase was in killing or capturing condors for what might be termed the collector trade: providing condors either in response to a specific request (e.g., for a zoo, public museum, or individual), or killing condors with the expectation that someone would want to buy them. Contracts from public institutions were still relatively uncommon (accounting for about 10 per cent of the records during this period); killing on speculation had become the major source of mortality (50 per cent of the total) [1].
Before 1880, most mortalities involving condors were individual events. (A person shot a condor for sport, but he did not often shoot another one. Someone collected a condor for a museum, but seldom collected more than one. A museum requested a condor specimen, but usually not more than one or two.) Exceptions to this were Alexander Taylor, who acted as agent for John Gurney to acquire a number of condors in the 1850s (Chapter 7), and Colbert Canfield, who located condors (both alive and dead) for several institutions in the 1860s (Chapter 8). No one had a similar role in the 1870s. In the 1880s and 1890s, three types developed: hunters who specialized in killing or capturing condors; people who acted as agents between the hunters and the collectors who wanted condors; and collectors who wanted to acquire more than one or two condor specimens.
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Henry Wetherbee Henshaw (1850-1930) traveled throughout California in 1875 as a member of the Wheeler Survey, collecting natural history information. He returned to California and Oregon a number of times with the Bureau of American Ethnology, pursuing his interests in zoology, archeology, and Indian linguistics. He had been trying to acquire a condor specimen since at least early 1883, as noted in a letter to John Bidwell (Chico, California) in April of that year [2]: "Please accept my thanks for your efforts on my behalf. Whether successful or unsuccessful I fully appreciate your kindness. The fact that the Vulture once so common has become rare, and that it is doomed at no very distant day to complete extinction has added much to my desire to procure specimens before it is too late." Bidwell could not obtain a specimen and, in his memoirs, Henshaw wrote [3]: "One of the notable California birds I particularly desired to see was the California Condor... Though I kept a sharp look-out for the bird [in 1875], it was not until several years later (1884) that I enjoyed the sight of a live vulture. While at the San Antonio Mission, in what is now Monterey County, September 27, engaged on Indian work, I saw four individuals circling about high in air and a notable sight they were. Finding that they were still not uncommon in the region I hired a hunter to obtain specimens, and in a few days was gratified by the possession of three. Two of them I measured and weighed. One weighed twenty pounds, and had a spread of wing of eight feet, nine inches; the other weighed twenty-three pounds with a spread of nine feet one inch. Females are no doubt still larger. It is a pleasure to record that at this time of writing [1920] the condor is still extant in several of its native haunts, though apparently not so numerous as when I obtained my specimens."
Henshaw did not name his condor hunter in his memoir, but museum records show that it was Frank Blas McCormack. McCormack was born about 1860 in Santa Clara County, California, second son of Lewis McCormack and Catherine Forbes [4]. In 1871 the family had moved to the San Antonio area of southeastern Monterey County. Frank McCormack spent most of the rest of his life in that part of the county, around San Antonio and later in King City. He died in Salinas 21 May 1953, and was buried in the Pleyto Cemetery near Lake San Antonio. He had three children with his first wife, Mary Govers (who died about 1902), and two with his second wife Mary (Carbajal) Bracisco, who brought an additional two children to the family from her first marriage. Some of the McCormack descendants still live in the area.
The inscription on Frank McCormack's gravestone at Pleyto labels him as miner and hunter, and from censuses and voting records it is clear he spent his life in the outdoors working for local ranchers, mining, farming, and supporting his family however he could. According to Suzanne Pierce Taylor, a descendant, he became a proficient hunter in his teens, and later had a number of contracts with Bay Area markets to supply wild game. "The season he hunted with Barney Butte until October they took a great deal of dried meat to San Jose and sold it for 15 cents a pound. They also sold about 185 hides to a San Jose tannery... Some of Frank's customers were San Francisco's finest restaurants. They paid him top prices for wild game... [5]." Gold excitement in the nearby Los Burros area in 1887 attracted him to mining, an activity he pursued through his lifetime in Monterey County and also in central Nevada and northern California [6].
About the time Frank McCormack was hired by Henshaw to hunt condors, he was still unmarried and employed as a laborer on a ranch at San Antonio [7]. There appears to be no record of how Henshaw came to hire him, but chances are good that it was through the agency of James Alonzo Forbes. Forbes, foster brother of Frank McCormack's mother Catherine [8], was an attorney and justice of the peace for San Antonio Township, who acted as local interpreter and translator for Henshaw in 1884 [9]. It would have been logical for Henshaw to ask Forbes for the name of a condor hunter, and for Forbes to identify his nephew Frank McCormack.
Henry Henshaw loaned two of his condor specimens to the U. S. National Museum in December 1884, "for exhibition in the mounted collection [10]." The third apparently was not salvageable as a skin, and Henshaw donated a part of its skeleton to the National Museum [11]. Robert Ridgway requested more specimens for the museum, and in March 1885, Frank McCormack shipped five condor skins to Washington, D. C., in care of Henshaw [12]. The five skins and the skeletal parts are still in the National Museum; the two loaned mounts were returned to Henshaw. One went into the collection of his friend, William Brewster, and is now in the Museum of Comparative Zoology (Cambridge, Massachusetts). Henshaw sold his entire bird collection to the British Museum in 1885, and the final condor went to England, and is now in the Natural History Museum at Tring.
Frank Blas McCormack was the first person known to have been hired to collect a number of condors. There appears to be no record of how much money he received for his endeavors. In the 1890s, agents selling to museums and private collectors were being paid $20 to $30 for each condor skin. The hunters probably were given only a few dollars per bird, although McCormack likely did better than that with the skins that he sent direct to the National Museum. He is not known to have killed condors after March 1885, but it is possible that some later Monterey County specimens were taken by him [13].
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The first person known to have acted as an agent between condor hunters and those who wanted to acquire condor specimens was Frank Stephens (1849-1937). Stephens' early years were spent in New York, Illinois, and Kansas, his move to California in 1875-1876 being partially financed by collecting birds along the way for Charles E. Aiken of Colorado [14]. He lived at various locations in southern California and Arizona before settling in San Bernardino County, California, in 1881. As had been the case on his first arrival in California, the return from Arizona to California in 1881 was partially financed by bird collecting, this time for William Brewster [15].
Other than a doubtful sighting of a California condor in far southeastern Arizona in March 1881 [16], Stephens appears not to have observed condors until 1886, when he recorded them near San Bernardino in April and June [17]. His interest in condors, and his opportunity to acquire them, developed as a result of his move in 1887 to Witch Creek in the Cuyamaca Mountains of San Diego County [18]. There, between 1888 and 1890, at least five condors passed through Stephens' hands. Two more were procured by him in 1899, and it's likely he was involved with two other specimens in 1900-1901. He also had a hand in collecting and selling two condor eggs [19].
I have found no indication that Stephens personally hired condor hunters, or that he had advance orders for condor specimens that he sought to fill. It appears that his collecting and selling were opportunistic. In the 1880s, there were only about 500 residents in the Witch Creek-Santa Ysabel-Ballena area of the San Diego mountains, and it wouldn't have taken long for everyone to hear that there was a taxidermist-bird collector living there. Killing of the condors he received also seemed random and opportunistic, with no overt motive to acquire the birds for sale. Frank Boring, a carpenter living in Julian, California, shot two; a third was killed at Julian by a William Decker [20]. Jeff Swycaffer, stagecoach driver, allegedly shot one with a pistol from the moving stage [21]. Massimo Morelli, a vaquero at Santa Ysabel, captured a condor with a lasso [22], and an unidentified Indian shot another [23]. As far as I can tell, Stephens only shot one condor, one found sick or injured that he later dispatched [24]. His 1886 field notes reveal that he shot twice at condors near San Bernardino, but failed to hit either [25].
Among those to whom Frank Stephens sold condors were William Brewster (Cambridge, Massachusetts), George Frean Morcom (Los Angeles, California), and the natural history specimen dealer Charles K. Worthen (Warsaw, Illinois). The relatively short time span covered by his condor collecting activities was not unusual among agents. Condors became scarce locally, condor hunters became unavailable, or the agents moved on to other pursuits. In Stephens' case, it is probably explained by his change in emphasis from birds to mammals. He spent almost all of 1894 away from San Diego, collecting mammals in all parts of California [26]. Much of his time through the late 1890s was spent in pursuit of mammals, and in drafting the manuscript for the book, "California Mammals," finally published in 1906 [27]. By then, condors were scarce in San Diego County; demand for condor specimens was high, but the supply had to come from other regions.
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Twelve years after Frank McCormack collected condors in Monterey County, the area figured again in organized condor hunting. The organizers this time were two men from Berryessa, Santa Clara County, California: Frank Holmes and Rollo Beck.
Frank Henry Holmes (1865-1924), son of Ahira Holmes and Emily C. Foye, was born in San Francisco, where his father had served as principal of several schools and was just completing a three-year term as the first Principal of the State Normal School [28]. Ahira Holmes retired from the education profession after 25 years at schools in California and Massachusetts, then spent 10 or 15 years as a stock broker in the San Francisco Bay area [29]. The family record between 1880 and 1890 is imprecise. About 1883, the family moved to Sebastopol, Sonoma County, California, and engaged in fruit growing there for three or four years [30]. This is borne out by records of Frank Holmes' bird collecting, showing considerable activity at Sepastopol in 1884, 1885 and 1886. However, Frank Holmes was also farming at Rio Vista, Solano County, during that time period, as shown by his bird records, and by letters from him cited in agricultural publications [31]. A further examination of realty and agricultural records would likely show that the family had farming businesses in both locations concurrently. About 1886, they moved south to San Jose, where they continued to grow fruit trees. Over the next 30 years, Frank Holmes developed and operated a major orchard and fruit packing business. He married Hattie Alma Lake in September 1890, and they produced two sons, both of whom eventually pursued farming interests in Santa Clara County and also in the San Joaquin Valley [32].
Farming and fruit packing did not command all of Frank Holmes' attentions. Automobiles attracted his early interest, and he reportedly owned the second car sold in the Santa Clara Valley, a Stanley Steamer, in 1899. He gained local fame in 1900 by making the first automobile trip over the mountains between San Jose and Santa Cruz, and a few weeks later drove across Pacheco Pass to Los Banos in the San Joaquin Valley [33]. Later in 1900, he with his brother Arthur E. Holmes became the first to drive a car into Yosemite Valley, "a trip of almost 2,000 miles without a breakdown, going in and coming back on his own wheels and with his power [34]." His automotive interest became more practical when he became involved in the building of the Sunset car in San Francisco about 1905. The 1906 San Francisco earthquake and fire completely destroyed their plant, and in 1907 the operation was moved to San Jose, incorporating under the name Victory Motor Car Company, with Frank Holmes as president and general manager [35]. After the company was dissolved, Holmes continued selling automobiles and automotive supplies, and in 1913 became distributor of Federal trucks, just then growing popular with California farmers [36].
Frank Holmes' business successes and general renown in the Santa Clara Valley undoubtedly figured into his later involvement with California condors, but his early interest in birds dated back to his youth in Oakland. As early as May 1883, he was collecting occasional bird specimens in Berkeley, some of them in company with Theodore S. Palmer, two years younger than Holmes and then a student at the University of California [37]. Perhaps Palmer introduced him to bird collecting [38]; in any event, by 1884 Holmes was collecting regularly at Rio Vista and Sebastopol. His observations on Sebastopol birds were cited 64 times in Belding's "Land birds of the Pacific District" [39]. He also was quoted by Walter Bryant and C. A. Keeler regarding his bird and mammal observations in northern California [40]. Although not a major figure in California ornithology in the 1880s, he was obviously becoming well-known.
After moving to San Jose about 1886, Frank Holmes' interest in personally collecting birds appears to have waned, and he is only known to have collected a few birds each year after that [41]. However, his own trophies were supplemented with other stuffed birds and natural history items. A grand-daughter recalled [42] that in the Holmes house there were "six big cases of birds... My favorites are a snowy owl and a big flamingo... There was also a polar bear rug, a grizzly bear rug, and many mounted heads of animals. My seat at the table was under a moose head..." Holmes also maintained a menagerie of live birds which included at various times the condor "Ben Butler" [Chapter 9], a golden eagle, a bald eagle, two red-tailed hawks, a peregrine falcon, a turkey vulture, and a raven [43]. He apparently traveled in conjunction with his bird collection, as he is credited with taking a series of photographs of the stuffed birds of Harry E. Austen in Halifax, Nova Scotia [44]. He became a member of the Cooper Ornithological Club in 1894 [45], but resigned in 1902 [46]. Although he is mentioned in a number of publications, I have only found two articles written by him, a report on "Ben Butler" [47] and a record of unusual waterfowl [48].
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Someone hired by Frank Holmes in the late 1880s to pick fruit in his Berryessa orchards was a young man named Rollo Howard Beck (1870-1950). The son of blacksmith Thomas Beck and Laura Vance, Rollo Beck was born in the Los Gatos area of Santa Clara County, and had moved with his family to Berryessa about 1876 [49]. A high school dropout, Beck reportedly became interested in birds by observing Holmes' living and stuffed collections, and was taught bird identification and taxidermy by Holmes [50]. This story is almost certainly a simplification of history, as Holmes could not have hired him before 1886, and Beck had collected at least one bird as early as June 1885 (Specimen 125326, common nighthawk, U. S. National Museum). Nevertheless, Beck and Holmes became good friends, and Beck went on to a long career studying and collecting birds. He became famous in ornithological circles for his collecting trips to the Galapagos Islands and to the South Pacific, New Guinea, and Peru [51], and infamous for shooting nine of the 11 last remaining Guadalupe Island caracaras [52].
The involvement of Holmes and Beck in the California condor specimen trade apparently started with Holmes' acquisition of "Ben Butler" in 1896. There is no specific record of how "Ben Butler" was acquired, but likely the bird was taken from its nest by a young man living in Monterey County's Big Sur area. Henry Hopken, son of Henry and Johanna Hopken, was born about 1880, probably in Germany, before his family immigrated to the United States in 1882. In July 1898, Rollo Beck had written to William Brewster in regard to Henry Hopken, that Beck "had camped at his place in Monterey Co. two or three seasons" [53]. One might speculate that on one of these visits Beck had mentioned that Holmes might like a live condor for his aviary. In any event, Hopken and Holmes did meet, and eventually Hopken supplied him with six condor specimens. Their condor collecting relationship might have continued beyond those half dozen birds, but in June 1898 Hopken was shot to death in San Jose. The shooter, a Milpitas, California, constable (who was later shown to have been inebriated, and so was convicted of manslaughter) suspected Hopken of stealing his coat and coach whip, and pursued and killed him. Hopken was shown to be innocent of any crime; in fact, Frank Holmes had played an indirect role in the incident. According to coroner Lincoln Cothran, Hopken "came to San Jose a few days ago. He had a unique occupation. He captured condors and eagles which he sold to societies and people who are interested in these rare birds. He brought two condors and an eagle to this city when he arrived a few days ago and sold them to Frank Holmes, an orchardist near Berryessa. He traded the birds for a horse, and it was intention to ride home today by way of Santa Cruz." Hopken had been with Cothran less than half an hour before the shooting, when Hopken "started to walk to Mr. Holmes' place, which is about six miles from town." That was when he was killed [54].
Holmes' acquisition, and subsequent selling, of California condors was probably purely opportunistic: he found a source of condors, and found a buyer. He had placed an ad in the June 1898 "Osprey," offering two condor skins for sale [55], and eventually sold five skins to the U. S. National Museum [56]. Other than the trade of condor skins for a horse, I don't know what Hopken was paid for his specimens. Holmes sold two to the National Museum for $25 each, and two for $20 each. The fifth, an inferior skin, was given to the museum for free. I haven't been able to determine if the National Museum sale was in response to the "Osprey" advertisement, or a separate transaction, but only one of the Hopken birds was not included in the sale to the National Museum. The sixth Hopken bird was sold by Rollo Beck to William Brewster (see below).
Frank Holmes was an avid hunter, particularly of waterfowl [57], and also participated in shooting tournaments [58], but he probably never shot a condor [59]. Apparently, he did not keep a condor for his personal collection; at least, none were included with the mounted specimens that were presented after his death to San Jose State College, and subsequently transferred to the nature center at nearby Alum Rock Park [60].
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Rollo Beck's earliest interest in California condors seems to have been in condor eggs, not skins. In 1894, he corresponded with Charles Bendire at the U. S. National Museum regarding the worth of condor eggs [61], and in 1895 discussed with Harry Taylor (New York, New York) the possibilities of finding condor eggs [62]. He made an unsuccessful trip into the Monterey County mountains in April 1895 [63], and was still expressing eagerness to acquire an egg in April 1899 [64]. It seems almost certain his hope was never realized.
Whereas Frank Holmes' trafficking in condor specimens was relatively passive, Rollo Beck actively sought out condor hunters and condor purchasers. In April 1898, Beck offered two of the Hopken birds to William Brewster. Brewster accepted the offer, but something delayed the shipment [65]. During the delay, Beck hired a second condor hunter who eventually supplied him with six or more condors (possibly as many as ten). That man, Simon Castro (1851-ca 1923), spent his life in the Jolon area of Monterey County, and was a neighbor and distant relative by marriage of Frank Blas McCormack: Simon's wife, Sarah Govers, was aunt to McCormack's wife, Maria Govers [66]. Simon's occupation at various times was blacksmith, vaquero, farmer, and rancher. I don't know how Beck first contacted Castro, possibly on Beck's April 1895 egg hunting trip to Monterey County. By early June 1898, Castro was on the job, as he wrote to Beck [67]: "I write a few lines to let you know that I start today to get them birds for you and I will send them as soon as I can. I don't know how many I am going to send. I am going to send as many as I can, and when I send them please let me know right away how many more you want."
Castro was able to immediately shoot one condor for Beck, and Beck sent this adult male to Brewster in lieu of the earlier proffered birds, promising to send more as they were obtained [68]. Within a week, Castro had collected two more condors. These specimens were in poor condition, apparently because Beck had not given adequate instruction on how to preserve them. Castro wrote [69]: "I am sorry to know that the birds were in bad condition. When I killed them I boxed them as quick as possible. I think that the insides should be taken out. I could take them out if you just tell me how, and send me something to put inside so the birds will not spoil... the insides should be taken out for the reason that the Station [Jolon, where Castro lived] is about 60 miles from the place where I kill them, and it takes a few hours to get them there." However, the skins were salvageable and they were sent to Brewster, along with one of the Hopken birds that had been offered in April [70]. Brewster accepted them, but commented that "the skins are not up to the one you sent before" [71].
Several California condors were killed in Monterey County in the fall of 1898. These specimens still exist in various museums. It seems likely that at least some of them were Castro-Beck birds, because no one else is known to have been working in the area during that period. However, the next condor that can with certainty be attributed to them was not taken until January 1899. On 3 January, Simon Castro wrote [72]: "I start today to get some birds for you. I have been occupied in other work, that is the reason I could not send before. I can go now and kill some. They are coming now almost every day. I have seen a few. Please let me know how many birds you want right away and how long you can wait for them." In the next year, Castro killed at least four condors for Beck. They were offered to William Brewster, but he was no longer interested, and Beck distributed them to other buyers.
As is the case with other condor hunters, I haven't found any records that show how much Beck paid Simon Castro for the birds he shot. Beck received $25 each for most of the birds he sold, with a high payment of $30 for one adult and $18 for a young bird in "poor plumage."
After 1900, only a few condors are known to have been killed in Monterey County, and sightings of condors there also decreased dramatically [73]. Rollo Beck's activities took him away from condor habitat, and no agent worked that area after him. Emphasis on condors shifted south into San Luis Obispo, Santa Barbara, and Ventura counties, where condors were still relatively easy to find.