Mariani Fountain- Revisited... Literally

My mom and I took a trip to San Francisco today and visited the Mariani Fountain.

Mom got a photo of me with it this time:

 

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The Case of the Missing Maskey's Candy

S. Mariani & Sons at 23rd and Columbia (now Florida).  See the children playing out front?  One could be Vera!            Photo used with permission of Carl Pisaturo-  http://carlpisaturo.com/Carlovision_MAIN.html

When Vera Mariani was a young girl, she lived on the corner of 23^rd and Columbia (now Florida) in San Francisco.  Below her house at street level was her father’s hardware store, S. Mariani & Sons.  The “S” stood for Stefano.  The sons were Helvetio, Walter, Arnold, Stephen and Eugene, although Arnold did not make it to adulthood.  Vera used to play around the house and hardware store, exploring and making up games.  The siblings closest to her age were her brothers Steve and Gene.  Once when my brother was terrorizing playing with me, I remember Vera telling me that her brothers played too rough for her, too, and that she often played alone.  

 It was during one of these alone playing day that Vera opened the deep cupboard in the kitchen that housed the ironing board.  I remember this cupboard.  If you opened the door, you could fold down the ironing board and reveal shelves.  As she opened this one day, she saw something on the top shelf.  What was it?  She retrieved the step stool and climbed up.  Grasping the edge, she pulled it and then saw the well-recognized logo of Maskey’s Candies—a mask and a key. 

San Francisco was and still is known worldwide for its candy.  From the 2000 National Register of Historic Places Registration Form requesting that the Haas Candy Factory at 54 Mint Street in San Francisco:

San Francisco possessed many favorable characteristics for the success of the candy industry: the cool summer climate is favorable for dipping chocolates. The deep water port facilitated importation of cocoa beans and sugar cane. Sugar was refined locally as early as 1857. The large population provided a good market for the product, which included not only chocolates, but candy sticks, licorice, sugar plums, lollipops, Turkish delight, ribbon candy, and taffy.

From (http://pdfhost.focus.nps.gov/docs/NRHP/Text/00001622.pdf):

In the 1887 Langley’s San Francisco City Directory, Maskey’s was first listed as a “manufacturer of fine candies.”  (From http://archive.org/details/crockerlangleysa1897sanf).  They are no longer in business, but the location of the factory and store still stands at 48-52 Kearny Street. 

When seeing that mask and key logo, young Vera must have had a jolt of excitement, a Pavlovian response.  Candy!  Right there!  She opened the carton and found that it was, in fact, a box full of chocolates.  Of course no one would miss one tiny small piece.  She plopped it in her mouth, savoring the delicious chocolate while she put the step stool and ironing board away.  A week or so later, she wondered if the box was still there.  She repeated her adventure and found it was the same box with the one missing chocolate.  Surely it had been forgotten.  But if she were to point it out, she’d have to share with her siblings.  Best to keep this to herself, she likely thought, as she popped another chocolate.  This continued a few times, each visit emptying the box by one chocolate.

On another note, outings with Father were very treasured.  He was a busy hardware man and had sons to teach the business to and customers to care for.  So one day, when Stefano asked Vera to come along with him for a visit with his very best customer, she was excited.  They rode the buggy over and upon reaching the door, Stefano pulled out a box of Maskey’s chocolates for presentation to the customer.  “How lovely of you to bring such fine chocolates,” said the customer.  Stefano bowed slightly in deference and with a touch of pride.  Meanwhile, little Vera stood next to him, shivering in horror and fear.  It was THE box.  The half emptied box of Maskey’s chocolates!  She feared a whipping when she confessed to Father, but instead just got lectured all the way home.

The part of this story that Louise told me that makes me the saddest is that I will never get to taste a Maskey’s chocolate.  If I did, I know I’d taste it with the taste buds and excitement of the eyes of young Vera.  I might even sneak them from my own cabinet, just to experience that moment of hers.  I tried to find a picture of the Maskey’s logo online, but couldn’t locate it.  If anyone has it to share, I’d love to see!

Note: The Mariani family is not my blood family, but there are not many left of the Marianis.  I have deep roots with the Marianis with my great grandfather and father both being caretakers on their ranch in Portola Valley, as well as a house in Portola Valley much later as I attended junior high and high school.  Because of my love for my “Auntie Vera,” the genealogist in me didn’t want to leave them untraced.  So I have been researching them blindly (i.e. only records, no ancestral stories) for about 3 years.  Last week I had the opportunity to meet with Louise, the 99-year-old granddaughter of the immigrant Mariani, cousin to my Vera, who I remember well from my childhood.  She supplied me with wonderful stories (including this one) and genealogy that I will be sharing both here and in the book I’m writing. 

Where Do You Get Your Genealogical Education?

Our local genealogical society, Livermore-AmadorGenealogical Society has a Lunch ‘n’ Learn every other month (that we are switching to monthly, as we all really like it).  Last month our meeting was about how we get our genealogical education.  I brought a list of my educational sources and then the others all added to it.  We came away with a very comprehensive list that we are very proud of! 

 

The other fun part was that my 7-year-old son came along.  I wanted to show him that even us old people keep learning.  He had a wonderful time—played with George’s hearing aid and told everyone about his 4-H Family History class where he gets his genealogy education (“With the very best teacher EVER- My Momma!”).

I put a link to our class notes here:

https://docs.google.com/file/d/0B95hFtyCNGc4RldORmJCSnppeUU/edit?usp=sharing

Louise

As most of you know, I have been working diligently on a book about the Mariani family. A few weeks ago, in researching Daniel Mariani, the youngest son of the Swiss immigrant, it dawned on me that the Marianis tended to live very long lives. And that just because Daniel's daughter would be 99 years old, didn't, in the Mariani world, mean she wasn't still living.

I turned to the tools and websites learned in Finding the Living genealogy classes and found a street name associated with her. I recognized that street from the 1940 census research I did. Which had the street number. What are the odds that she'd be in the same house as over 70 years ago?  But I wrote a letter.

And got a phone call less than a week later from an extremely coherent and wonderful Louise!  We had lunch Saturday at her lovely home.

I shared with her what I know of her immigrant grandfather and she let me COPY HIS PICTURE! And the genealogy work her sister did in the 1950s on the thin typewriter paper neatly bound in a binder. She told me stories told to her and filled in a number of gaps.  Her information  changed more than one dot-to-dot picture that records had given me about a person.

She complained a bit about the things she can't do any longer, like walking her 40 blocks each day, but for 99---heck, for someone even 79-- she is amazing. I can't wait to go see her again.

The Fountain’s Journey

In collecting old pictures of S. Mariani & Sons Hardware at 23^rd and Florida Streets in San Francisco, I noticed an old fountain that was once out front.  In many of these pictures, the S of S. Mariani & Sons himself, Stephen, was standing next to it proudly. 

Photo used with permission of Carl Pisaturo, http://carlpisaturo.com

I’ve many times visited the home of the Mariani family at this location.  Stephen Mariani opened two hardware stores in 1875.  When the stores closed in the 1950s, they literally just closed.  The store was left downstairs of the home and just all closed up.  We used to go into the hardware store and play with the old cash register and tools.  My dad even had some items I inherited when he died—business cards, a brush, and a pencil.

Throughout my lifetime of visits, there was no fountain out front on the sidewalk.  So what happened to it?  When I was combing through items at the California Historical Society in San Francisco in March I found this newspaper clipping (newspaper not named or dated):

New Park Gets an Old Fountain

An unusual antique fountain of broad multi-purpose design—it was made to serve horses, humans and dogs alike-- has been presented to the State for inclusion in the new Victorian Park at the foot of Hyde street. 

The fluted cast-iron fountain has stood since 1881 in front of the old Mariani hardware store at 23rd and Florida streets.

It was donated for the State Park by the sons and daughters of Stephen and Victoria Mariani, who came to San Francisco in 1862 and established their store in 1875.

One of the daughters, Mrs. Stella Bryant, who still lives at 23rd and Florida, said the fountain was cast in Oakland in 1872 and acquired by her father nine years later.

Charles DeTurk, State Director of Parks and Recreation, said the fountain “reflects all the ornate grandeur of its period.”

I decided to look into this fountain and, using my best friend, Google, I found this website:http://aboutinthecity.blogspot.com/2010/04/forgotten-fountain.html.  Armed with the newspaper article, directions, and the picture from the About in the City blog, I took a trip to San Francisco on BART last weekend, determined to see if the fountain was indeed still there.

I got off BART at the Embarcadero stop and walked up Embarcadero towards Ghiradelli Square, stopping for a bit at Pier 35, where I walked across the street to the corner of Kearny and Bay.  Why did I stop there? 

That is the spot that the California pioneer Giuseppe (Joseph) Mariani, father to Stephen Mariani, was fatally injured in a blasting accident in 1871. 

May 11, 1871, Daily Evening Bulletin, San Francisco, CA

I walked across to the pier and sat there looking at the boats in the water.  Is that what Giuseppe was doing there?  Watching the boats?  He was a house painter, so I don’t think he was working.  I think he was thinking just like I was.  As I sat there on fancy redwood benches staring into the Bay, I was interrupted by a “vet looking for some lunch money.” 

Giuseppe was there just after the Civil War.  Were there Civil War vets asking for spare change while that dynamite was being set?  Were there children chasing seagulls, couples holding hands?  What was he thinking about those moments before his life was interrupted permanently?

I got a bit sad, so I continued on.  I passed the street performers and foreign families sightseeing at Pier 39.  I passed the smell of crab and sourdough at Fisherman’s Wharf.  I passed the other smells of stagnant water and homelessness of Aquatic Park and there it was.

The Fountain.

I placed my hand on it in reverence.  This fountain was in Oakland and shipped to San Francisco.  This fountain was touched by S. Mariani.  This fountain was touched by Vera and her siblings.  This fountain was touched by shoppers in the hardware store and passersby.  Possibly even my dad.  As I thought of each of them, I imagined seeing them there with me.  Only they all were in black and white like the photos of the fountain in front of 23^rd and Florida.  I was in color and so was the fountain.  And so was the sleeping lady on the nearby bench, lying there around MY fountain, as if MY fountain were a stove giving off the heat of 140 years. 

I sat on one of the surrounding benches and just looked at it.  I admired the different drinking spots for horses and dogs.  I wondered how it was filled.  I think through the top, but clearly no water other than that from the skies had been in it for years. Now it was leaves, gum and cigarette butts.  I cleaned out the largest drinking spot of the debris and then wrote down the words from the small plaque at the bottom, silently promising my fountain that I’d be back to clean her again someday soon.

“A gift to the State of California by the pioneer Mariani family.  The grandfather, James Mariani, arrived on these shores in 1852.  Presented in the memory of the father, Stephen Mariani, who purchased the fountain in 1881 to place in front of his establishment at 23^rd and Florida.  November 1961.”  The grandfather was Joseph or Giuseppe, not James.  But the rest is, as they say, history.