Musings: Christmas in the Sonoma Plaza Barracks

This is the second of a four-part series on Christmas and growing up in Sonoma.

People who visit the state historic park and rather bare and rustic Barracks on the Plaza today will find it difficult to imagine it as a warm and inviting home decorated for Christmas. But, before it was part of a state monument, it was, from 1935 to 1962, the private home of my grand aunt and uncle, Walter and Celeste Murphy.

The tale of its transition from a crumbling adobe relic to a charming home is part of my family’s story, connected to local history.

By the time California became a state in 1850, most of the original Mexican adobes, including the Barracks, were starting to crumble, the decay often hidden behind wooden facades.

As a student at Sonoma High School at the end of the century, Celeste (Celie) Granice, whose father, Harry, was editor of The Sonoma Index-Tribune, was already upset and writing articles about the loss of Sonoma’s early Mexican heritage. The children of Gen. Mariano Vallejo were her friends. In fact, she was 12, visiting the Vallejo home on Jan. 18, 1890 when he died. She carried the news of his passing to her father at the newspaper office.

She continued her interest in writing at UC Berkeley, graduating in 1901, then worked as a reporter for a San Francisco newspaper before her father named her editor of the San Rafael Independent, which he also owned. Her reputation as a prolific and aggressive journalist made her unique in what was a male-dominated profession of the time.

She succeeded as an editor, and eventually took over the Index-Tribune in 1915, when her father died. She was 31 at the time, and already established as a firebrand on the subject of preserving Sonoma’s history. In this effort, she hounded local and state politicians until they agreed to restore the Sonoma Mission’s crumbling walls and caving roof.

When the state stopped short of also saving other local adobes she decided to rehab at least one of them herself, purchasing the Barracks and restoring the building to what it looked like when Vallejo quartered his troops there. She and Walter converted the second story into a home for themselves and leased the first story to the local Chamber of Commerce. She would eventually give the Barracks to the people of California, but in those early years, it became a vibrant, museum-like home, in which she hosted many Sonomans and distinguished Sonoma visitors, including senators and governors, artists and writers.

She also loved to throw grand soirees, the grandest of which was on Christmas Eve, attended not only by my parents and I, but descendants of Vallejo and other dear friends, many of whom were community leaders.

A big Christmas tree was decorated in the large living room/parlor that she’d furnished from mid-19th century hotel furniture, tossed out by San Francisco Hotels “modernizing” after the ’06 earthquake.

Her entire home was like a museum, filled with paintings, sculptures and collectibles from California’s early history. My Uncle Walter even had an antique gun collection that included ancient muskets, pistols and swords.

The large antique dining room table was set with elegant crystal and china, and lighted by scores of candles. Two large, gilded mirrors added additional light and depth to the room.

Celie insisted on cooking the Christmas Eve meal herself, but accepted serving assistance from her younger sister, Julie, and my mom. The multi-course meal started early and ran long. Conversation was lively but, as the only child present, I placed most of my attention on the food, which included some kind of fancy roast beef, numerous side dishes, plus wine, and finally, my favorite part, the homemade pies for dessert, after which, I was ready for the most important part of the evening – opening presents.

But the adults were still eating and talking, so my mother would tell me to go sit in the living room and wait for them to finish. Naturally, I would fall asleep.

They would wake me for the presents, followed by Christmas carols around the piano, played by Celie and highlighted by the incredible voice of my Aunt Julie, a former star of the San Francisco Light Opera.

To this day, I believe I’ve never heard “Oh Holy Night” sung more beautifully than by Aunt Julie. As the years went by my memory was imprinted with the smiling faces of the special Sonomans who gathered with us in the Barracks every Christmas Eve.

I have no doubt that General Vallejo’s old Barracks were never as full of life and joy before or since my Aunt Celie and Uncle Walter made it their home.

(Next week: More about the people of our Plaza who made Sonoma a real community, especially at Christmas time)