Pacifica Historical Society

10/31/2026

10/29/2026

Story:
Back in 2010, I interviewed Pacifica's great fisherman, the late Crab King Andy Pappas for the "Pacifica Tribune." Andy and his fish stories can be found many, many times in our old printed community newspaper – but 2010 was our first meet and subsequent story. Andy was always a local celebrity, always a fun interview, and over the years that followed, I interviewed him many more times. He used to tell me he had an interest in the Drumburton, a four-masted iron ship that sank against our Pacifica coast in 1904. He told me someday I should dig in and do a story on it. Andy died on February 18, 2024, just six days shy of his 94th birthday and his community came out in droves to sing his praises and mourn his passing. Recently I've been thinking about Andy, what with all the emergency work going on currently to stabilize Andy's favorite crabbing spot, the (now, since June of 2026, structurally-compromised) Pacifica Municipal Pier. Seems like a good time to take on his challenge. And so this story is dedicated to Andy, who never had a bad day fishing – whether he caught anything or not.

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Her length was 266 feet 6 inches. She measured 40 feet 2 inches across from the outermost point on the port side to the outermost point on the starboard side, and she had a depth of 23 feet 8 inches. A four-masted iron ship, the Drumburton had very little wasted space with her gross register tonnage listed at 1891 and her net register tonnage at 1840. She was built by Russell & Co. in Port Glasgow, Scotland, and her owners were Gillison and Chadwick of Liverpool. She was the third built in their fleet of at least nine sailing vessels with the prefix of "Drum." ("Drum" is from the Scottish Gaelic "druim," meaning ridge, or the spine of a boat.) All of these ships used names of Scottish places or estates beginning with "Drum." Drumlanrig was built in 1876, Drumpark in 1877, Drumburton in 1881, Drummuir in 1882 and so on. The Drumburton was named after, and is a phonetic spelling of, the historic fortress of "Dumbarton" in West Dunbartonshire, Scotland, located on the northern bank of the River Clyde.

She was set to launch on July 15, 1881, but she stalled on the slipway and came to a most unwelcome halt. It took until the next day to free her, but the one-day-late launch and the reason for it was considered a bad omen by her sailors.

A commercial cargo ship, the Drumburton traveled major routes, beginning her career as a carrier of coal. In the early 1900s, she often traveled to ports in Oregon to load and export Oregon timber to various buyers at various locations. She did multiple sailings out of Puget Sound ports to transport necessary regional products and materials. She had an incident in November of 1903. She was on a ballast passage from Manila to San Francisco when a coal gas explosion took place, costing the life of one of the ship's crew.

It was hard, dedicated work being a crew member on the Drumburton. You had to engage with a great expanse of canvas and rigging looming far above the deck and the work on the four towering masts took place in all kinds of weather, at all hours. Daily you were at the mercy of wind and ocean currents. Between the long voyages, there were often many months awaiting the next charter – the formal commercial employment contract between the ship owner and the charterer (merchant). During that time, most of the crew was released except for a few watchmen, a mate and a cook. The ship owner still had to pay port dues and upkeep while waiting for the new stream of revenue to come in.

For eight months in 1904, the Drumburton sat idle in what was then known as the Oakland Creek (today's Oakland Estuary), joined by other anchored commercial sailing ships waiting for new charter contracts. During the summer, the Drumburton was purchased by the Western Commercial Company of San Francisco, the Drumburton Ship Company of Victoria, B.C., and Captain John Barneson. A Scottish-born mariner, Captain Barneson additionally was co-owner, along with San Francisco sea captain Isaac N. Hibberd, of the general shipping partnership Barneson-Hibberd Company.

Several days before September 3 of 1904, the Drumburton received its long-awaited charter from the shipping and lumber firm, Renton Holmes & Company, to head north to Puget Sound to load lumber for Valparaiso, a major port city on the central coast of Chile. Insurance for the Drumburton was obtained and departure was imminent. She was ready to sail on Friday, September 2, but setting sail on a Friday has long been considered taboo in maritime lore – "Friday sail, always fail." And so on Saturday morning, September 3, 1904, this grand structure of canvas and iron left port at 10 a.m.

She was captained by William C. Thomas and had a hired crew of 24, most of whom are listed here: J. Moori, Evans, Williams, Phinski, E. B. Van Houten, J. Van Houten, R. Tiacks, A. Kuhlberg, Charles Olefeldt, J. Pawadlar, O. Banteille, J. Neven, R. Lewis, P. Flatens, Thomas Jesson, Aseley, Brady, Second Mate William McDonald and Steward Joe Plum. The Captain was also joined by his wife, who had joined her husband previously on a number of sails.

To begin her voyage, the large, unpowered four-masted vessel was towed out from the narrow inner harbor of the Oakland Creek by the wooden tugboat Alert. The weather conditions looked fine as the Drumburton was "towed past the heads, dropped the tug and went out over the bar." Two days later, Captain Thomas gave this statement to the "Los Angeles Herald."

"From the moment we left the heads we were in fog, which got denser every minute. We passed close enough to the lightship to make her out through the fog and hail her. I took my departure from the lightship and stood out to sea, but the fog was so dense that everything was shut in all around us. We could see or hear nothing.

"The wind was light, between southwest and west southwest, very light, sometimes enabling us to make only steerageway. We were not making over four knots when she struck. I had been holding the course for a time, and the first thing we knew we saw breakers ahead and the next instant she struck. This is all I can say at this time.

"When I make my official report I shall give a full, detailed account of every movement of the ship. I attribute the grounding to the strong current, an uncertain and variable one that sets along the coast. It was impossible to take bearings and determine positions in that fog."

What exactly happened to the Drumburton? Dense fog, a complete loss of wind and a difficult current – combined, they rendered any steering capabilities useless. This not only grounded the Drumburton, bow-foremost on the "rocky bottom of Point San Pedro," but also seriously challenged three other vessels that same weekend as well. Miraculously there was no loss of life on any of the ships.

For all the same reasons as the Drumburton, the three-masted lumber schooner James A. Garfield ran aground Saturday at 6 p.m., two miles north of the Cliff House. The next morning, the lumber schooner was successfully pulled off the rocks by the tugboat Defiance. However, it was deemed a total loss and never refloated. The wooden steam schooner Newberg came ashore Saturday night at Fort Point. But she was successfully released and subsequently able to continue on with her long coastal trading career. The wedging of the wooden West Coast steam schooner Maggie on Ocean Beach at 8 p.m. on Sunday night was caused both by fog and also by her captain. He was cited for serious navigation miscalculations. The Maggie was successfully towed off the sand and refloated.

When the Drumburton drifted onto the promontory it was 7 p.m. on September 3rd. Up until that point the Captain and his crew had hoped to hear the sound of a foghorn, or find the beam of a welcoming light, but as they all reported later, they only heard "the terrifying crash of breakers."

Once the Drumburton grounded, Steward Joe Plum sent up distress rockets. The ship was fixed in place without movement. The crew prepared the onboard emergency boats only to discover the spare boats were all plagued with severely dry wood and all of them leaked. They would offer no safety to shore. As such, Captain Thomas deemed it safe to stay onboard through the night.

The "San Francisco Call" reported that coastal resident J.A. McGowan called down "through the gray curtain of mist from the high bluff known as Little Pedro Point."

"Who are you?" he shouted out to the vessel.

"The ship Drumburton," came the answer, "fast aground. Where are we?"

McGowan told reporters that the voices of the sailors were only fifty yards from shore. He also noted that several others joined him on the bluff to shout encouragement to the shipwrecked sailors. There was not much to see though; the evening sky was black and full of fog.

Local fisherman E. J. Scott, who lived in a cabin built "in the lee of the bluff," also joined the crowd. More messages passed between the sailors and the neighboring residents and it was agreed the fisherman would use his boat to row out to the ship. Listening to the voices of the crew and watching for the occasional flare, the fisherman rowed to the Drumburton and went aboard. The Captain sent Second Mate William McDonald back with the fishing boat and then McDonald headed to the town of Colma by livery rig, as surely they would have either a telegraph or telephone to notify the Spreckels Tug Company of the incident. The tug company sent out their vessel, the Defiance, in the early morning hours of Sunday, September 4, but it was too late. The Drumburton was jammed into the rocks that would sink her. Had the tug been able to come the night it happened, both the captain and the second mate surmised that the Drumburton might have been floated.

When the tug came, the Captain's wife was spirited away to a San Francisco hotel where her husband's cousin was located. The cousin, also a seaman, had to chase members of the press away. It was too much. "Mrs. Thomas is in shock," he told reporters. The rest of the crew and the captain were able to safely abandon ship later that Sunday.

The ship was valued at $45,000 and insured for $38,000. Local headlines blazed with the ominous: "Point San Pedro has claimed yet another victim."

In the weeks following the captain's official report, Captain William Thomas was found guilty of "being responsible for the wreck." He was given a three-month suspension by a Naval Court of Inquiry. Point San Pedro, the fateful promontory for "a graveyard of vessels," would claim another victim six years later. On August 2, 1910, the four-masted schooner James Rolph, carrying 14,000 board feet of lumber for sugar plantations in Hawaii, was enveloped by thick fog and pulled into the rocks at Point San Pedro, stopping just 50 feet from where the Drumburton grounded. Everyone survived the James Rolph incident. Usable fittings were later stripped by salvage crews before the ship was abandoned to the Pacific.

As to the Drumburton, there were "four huge holes in her bottom." Subsequently, she was stripped of her rigging and other detachables, and her insurance company settled the claims. Her loss served as a powerful reminder for the absolute need to maintain tug contact until "safe offshore margins are reached."

The wrecking of the Drumburton additionally reinforced the knowledge that ships drifting without wind were completely vulnerable. Blaring fog sirens located at hazardous geographic areas, could have given the Drumburton an audible signal to steer away from. For Captain Thomas, it was a career-ending loss.

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By Jean Bartlett (© October 29, 2026)

Writer Jean Bartlett was recognized by the Board of Supervisors, County of San Mateo, for "her writing that connects community and preserves local history." She can be contacted through her website, Bartlett's Biographies. This story was sponsored by a grant through the Pacifica Historical Society – funded by the Sam Mazza Foundation.

10/18/2026

Story:
Before Pacifica became a city in 1957 and Sharp Park became one of its neighborhoods, Sharp Park was an unincorporated area in San Mateo County, and it was named after George Sharp. Before that, in the earlier 1900s when the Ocean Shore Railroad was making its way down the coast from San Francisco and on towards Santa Cruz (stopping 26 miles shy at Tunitas Glen), there were two communities in the area that eventually became Sharp Park. One was the district of Salada Beach. Salada Beach was named for a natural salt lagoon, Laguna Salada, located where the golf course is now. The second was Brighton Beach, a neighboring subdivision along the beach, pushed by builders and realtors who envisioned a great flux of homebuyers from San Francisco, who saw what their money could buy from the window of their train ride adventure down the coast. People did come, and did buy, but the Ocean Shore Railroad was forced to stop operations in 1920 due to a number of reasons which included: labor strikes, the rapid increase in automobiles and landslides.

Salada Beach had several excellent wells and Brighton Beach's water supply was more limited. That became a problem in 1928. That year signaled the start of a major drought in California, which included San Mateo County, and Brighton Beach petitioned to join the Salada Beach Water District. Salada Beach would only allow Brighton Beach into their water district for a $1,700 payment. This did not make friends between the two communities. Meanwhile, the postmaster wanted both communities to change their name to just one community because there were problems with delivering the mail – including too many homeowners with the same last names. Both areas could see the value in merging, but neither community wanted to merge using any part of the other settlement's name. A lot of huffing and puffing went on and eventually everyone voted to become known as the town of Sharp Park. How did they come up with "Sharp Park" as a voting choice? Well, it's time to introduce George Sharp and his wife Honora.

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George Frederick Sharp was born in New York City on July 18, 1822 (his birth year can also be found as 1820). George attended a school run by Patrick Sarsfield Casserly, a native of Ireland. Mr. Casserly became one of New York City's first Roman Catholic educators, celebrated for his dedication to high academics, including intensive courses on Latin and Greek. George went on to Yale and following his graduation, he began his legal studies in the law office of Charles Edwards, a legal writer with a practice specializing in common law and equity. George completed his legal studies with John Townshend, a prominent legal writer and author of "The Code of Procedure of the State of New York, with Notes on Pleading and Practice." George was then admitted to practice before the New York Supreme Court.

Fascinated by the news of the new "El Dorado" out West, in 1849 George boarded a ship out of New York City which subsequently crossed the Atlantic equator, rounded the treacherous waters of Cape Horn, and stopped at the Hawaiian Islands before arriving in San Francisco. In 1852, George's younger brother William, also a Yale graduate and an attorney, joined George in a San Francisco law partnership. They opened their law office on the corner of Washington and Montgomery streets.

Their practice, specializing in civil and mercantile law for "large business houses and corporations," was not only extremely lucrative but frequently cited for its outstanding legal reputation.

George's first wife Hanna was born in 1825 and she died in San Francisco in 1859 or 1860. They did not have children. His second wife, Honora, was born in Quebec in the early 1840s and she and George married in San Francisco in 1860. By all accounts the marriage was a devoted one. The couple lived in grand residential hotels in San Francisco, which Mr. Sharp had done since his arrival in the City. Apparently, in those days, a number of well-to-do San Franciscans chose hotel living because they found it easier and more economical than managing a full staff and a mansion. One of the couple's favorite things to do was spend time in nature or in gardens, and when San Francisco's Golden Gate Park opened in 1870, they were frequent visitors.

Along with running a thriving legal practice with his brother, George was very successful in real estate investments. One such investment was an area of land, near the ocean, separated from the Pacific by an ocean ridge barrier and containing a fresh-to-brackish, non-tidal lagoon, meaning it had a salt potency higher than fresh water. This particular investment, which consisted of a great many sand dunes, can be found listed as a 410-acre ranch on the remote San Mateo County Coast. All of it was originally part of the Mexican land grant of Rancho San Pedro, an 8,926-acre property, covering most of today's Pacifica, which was granted to Don Francisco Sánchez, former Commandante of the San Francisco Presidio and 8th Alcalde of San Francisco, by Alta California Governor Juan Bautista Alvarado in 1839.

In 1880 or 1881, George Sharp retired from his practice due to a warning by his physician. "You have serious heart disease." But George didn't completely retire, remaining a prominent member of the Bar and taking care of some of his partnership's casework when he and his brother deemed it necessary.

On October 17, 1882, after returning from some business the previous week in Stockton, Mr. Sharp was taken by surprise when a messenger arrived at his office that morning. Apparently George was overdue in Department 1 of the Superior Court of the City and County of San Francisco to represent the plaintiff, Florence Tingley. He rushed from his office in all haste to ask the court for a continuance. When he arrived he was notably exhausted. As he finished speaking and as "Mr. Bergin, attorney for the defense, was about to reply, Mr. Sharp staggered against the railing in front of the Clerk's desk." He fell to the floor, striking his head against a sharp edge. Judge Sullivan ordered the windows opened and the crowd ushered back. Dr. C. F. Buckley, also in the building, was summoned. After trying all he could, Dr. Buckley pronounced George Sharp's death. The doctor's tentative assessment of the cause of death was "fatty degeneration of the heart." At the time of his death, George Frederick Sharp was 60 years of age and he and his wife Honora lived at the Baldwin Hotel. They did not have children.

At some point in the late 1890s, Honora married Judge W. L. Pierce, a lawyer. But the marriage was not a good one and she divorced him within a few years.

Honora Sharp died in her room at the Savoy Hotel on February 8, 1905. The contents of her very thoughtful and generous will made no mention of Mr. Pierce, and all newspaper articles and court rulings following her death referenced her only as Honora Sharp, widow of the late George F. Sharp.

Honora directed that the bulk of her estate, an amount of $200,000, be turned over to two San Francisco Park Commissioners: California businessman Adolph B. Spreckels, who ran the Spreckels Sugar Company; and Reuben H. Lloyd, a prominent San Francisco attorney who was also Honora's attorney. Both were very wealthy men and both were heavily involved in the development of Golden Gate Park. (There are two landmarks in the park associated with Adolph Spreckels: the Spreckels Temple of Music, aka the Golden Gate Bandshell, and Spreckels Lake. There are also two landmarks in the park associated with Reuben Lloyd: Lloyd Lake, also known as Mirror Lake; and the old stone columns near the lake, known as the Portals of the Past.)

Mrs. Sharp trusted both men implicitly in that they understood her initial desire was to erect some suitable memorial to her late husband in Golden Gate Park, with a strong interest in that being a memorial gate at the entrance "to what is known as the panhandle of the park." However, because she knew, and was advised, there might be laws that would challenge such a charitable bequest, she left the bequest to the two park commissioners, "without any trust or understanding either express or implied as to its use of appropriation or otherwise."

Both Mr. Spreckels and Mr. Lloyd also understood all the following which Mrs. Sharp noted in her will. "She and her husband George had obtained such enjoyment of Golden Gate Park." "George was the owner of realty which appreciated in value when Golden Gate Park was opened." "George participated in the dedication of the public pleasure ground." She trusted these men to use that money for some sort of park recreational purposes for the public: "public land kept in public use."

In addition, she left: "$25,000 to the Salvation Army for the poor of San Francisco; $25,000 to the King's Daughters Home for Incurables; and $25,000 to the San Francisco Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals." There were some smaller and several additional $25,000 amounts left to specific individuals. All the rest, "residue and remainder of my estate, be it real, personal or mixed, and wheresoever situate, and all illegal or inoperative bequests or devisees, I give, devise and bequeath to my said executor Samuel G. Murphy." In Mrs. Sharp's will, she additionally declared she had no relatives.

This is all mentioned because of course her will was challenged, as she suspected it would be as did her attorney, by a number of ne'er-do-wells and buttinskis. But finally, with both Spreckels (1857-1927) and Lloyd (1835-1909) leaving their share of that 410-acre property to the City and County of San Francisco, with the formal stipulation that it be used strictly for park and recreation purposes only—"if this agreement is ever breached, Sharp Park will revert to Honora Sharp's beneficiaries"—the wishes of Honora Sharp began to come to fruition in 1927. It was in that year, that horticulturist John McLaren, considered the father of Golden Gate Park, proposed a golf course on part of George Sharp's land and San Francisco officials concurred.

Golf was exceptionally popular all over the world and San Francisco recognized that their own public courses – Harding Park Golf Course, near Lake Merced, and Lincoln Park Golf Course at Lands End – were not enough to meet demand. Subsequently, British golf course architect Dr. Alister MacKenzie was commissioned to design the golf course at Sharp Park. Dr. MacKenzie, famous for his stunning yet challenging designs, created more than 50 golf courses throughout the world. They include: Augusta National Golf Club in Augusta, Georgia; Cypress Point Club in Pebble Beach, CA; Titirangi Golf Club in Auckland, New Zealand; and Royal Melbourne Golf Club (West Course) in Australia.

Between 1927 and 1930, Dr. MacKenzie, in collaboration with his construction partner Robert Hunter, and with golf architect H. Chandler Egan, drafted the plans for the golf course without a fee. It was understood that if their plans were accepted by the City of San Francisco, they would be retained as architects. They were retained. Construction, which included the design and building of the Sharp Park Golf Course Club House by the architectural firm of Willis Polk & Co., was completed in 1931. On April 16 and April 17, 1932, Sharp Park opened with a two-day inaugural tournament. 400 golfers arrived. That same year, the residents of Salada Beach and Brighton Beach became the residents of Sharp Park.

The course, which is often referred to as "The Poor Man's Pebble Beach," was described by professional golfer and U.S. Open champion Ken Venturi as: "Dr. MacKenzie's great gift to the American public course golfer."

Honora's last request was that she be buried at Holy Cross Catholic Cemetery in Colma. Following a Requiem High Mass held on February 9, 1905, at St. Mary's Cathedral in San Francisco, Honora Sharp was interred at Holy Cross, where she rests with her husband George, and with friend or family member Mrs. Mary Brennan, originally of Ireland, who died in San Leandro, CA, in November of 1885. (Section E, Row 7, Area 2, Plot 3; Sharp Overground Vault.)

* * *
By Jean Bartlett (© October 18, 2026)

Writer Jean Bartlett was recognized by the Board of Supervisors, County of San Mateo, for "her writing that connects community and preserves local history." She can be contacted through her website, Bartlett's Biographies. This story was sponsored by a grant through the Pacifica Historical Society – funded by the Sam Mazza Foundation.

10/16/2026

Story:
Longtime Pacifican Kathleen Manning had many titles throughout her life, with the word "proud" in front of all of them, including: daughter; sister; wife; stepmom; aunt; relative; friend; University of Detroit recipient of a bachelor's degree in history; Wayne State University recipient of a master's degree in social studies with a minor in economics; grades 7 through 12 teacher of American history, European history, economics and government; owner of Prints Old & Rare / Manning's Books (sellers of rare antique maps, prints, charts, engravings, books and ephemera, and still very much in business); author of multiple books on Pacifica and San Francisco history; a many-year President of the San Francisco History Association and a longtime member; a many-year President of the Pacifica Historical Society and a longtime member; producer and creator of the multi-award winning community television show, "Footprints of Pacifica"; Professional Pacifica Historical Society Rummage Sale Rummager; Constant Fighter in the Ring to save the Little Brown Church (done), Pacifica Jack Cheese (done) and now the last car of the Ocean Shore Railroad, Car 1409, (which is getting done).

Kathleen had quite a fun sense of humor. On one occasion, she and I were laughing over what her official title should be, and she thought "Queen" had a nice ring to it. And so to honor all that she has truly done for this city, as well as her love of the silly, she is hence christened: Kathleen Manning, Pacifica's Go-Getter History Queen.

Kathleen died on Sunday, October 11, 2026, from complications of pneumonia. Undoubtedly she has opinions on this as her things-to-still-get-done list is quite the tome.

* * *

Kathleen Helen Manning was born in Detroit, Michigan on July 1, 1939, to Frank and Helen (Gooder) Manning. She was the fourth, and the last living, of the couple's six children: Mary, born in 1933; twins Jane and Joan, born in 1935; Kathleen, born in 1939; Frank, born in 1945; and Jay, born in 1948. Her family nickname was and remains, "Kitty." As to her lifelong love of trains, and her heroic efforts to save Car 1409, the last passenger car of the Ocean Shore Railroad, one could say that was in her DNA:

"My father was a civil engineer," Kathleen told me in a sort-of interview chat back in 2018. "He worked for the Pere Marquette, a Michigan railroad. They were merged with Chesapeake and Ohio Railway (1947). My dad, a graduate of Michigan State, was Chief Engineer of Bridges and Structures. When we were little, he would take us to see depots and ore carriers. I thought it was interesting. After the Second World War, we got a new car, a Ford, and my dad would take us about five miles to where the train went by— the Streamliner. We would wave at the engineer. The Streamliner was a fancy train with an art deco look.

"During the summertime, I rode the Streamliner. My paternal grandmother lived in Grand Rapids and I would go visit her. My parents would put me on the train and it was about a three-hour ride. As a little kid it was a big deal."

Kathleen's paternal grandfather was chief engineer of the railroad. Earlier on he had supervised the building of trains running through Oklahoma. Her Uncle Fred was chief engineer of the Chesapeake & Ohio Railroad. Her Great Uncle Frank had worked as an accountant for the Grand Trunk Western Railroad.

Kathleen's mom was a nurse. She was working at the Women's Hospital in Detroit when she met Kathleen's dad.

"My mother was a very loving, nice lady," Kathleen noted. "She was religious but not overboard. She was Catholic. She always tried to teach us to be tolerant of other people. She never was prejudiced against people at all. We just weren't exposed to many different people where we grew up. Detroit was pretty segregated but my mother always went to the Detroit Round Table of Catholics, Jews and Protestants (now known as the Michigan Roundtable for Just Communities). She made things for our neighbors. For Easter she would make these lamb cakes and we would take them all around the neighborhood. She made tons of Christmas cookies and took them around." (Note: Kathleen was famous in Pacifica for delivering cookies to friends and neighbors during the holidays, or during a life difficulty.)

Kathleen said many times that she really had a wonderful childhood and of all those who influenced her during those years, her brothers and sisters were at the top of that list. She talked about them back in 2018:

"Mary and I shared a room growing up and we could sleep through anything. She taught me sound sleeping by working and typing at night! She took good care of me. She taught me to read and bought me special clothes. With her first job she took me to 'Peck & Peck' (a retailer of private label women's wear) and allowed me to get ANY dress I wanted! She was kind and thoughtful until the day she died.

"Jane was always so much fun. We laughed a lot in my family. She was very smart—she was the director at Shapiro School of Nursing, she always had lots of friends and she LOVED to party. She was generous and kind. She actually let my friend, Jean Iavelli, and me move into her home when she was a newlywed! She loved show tunes.

"Joan was quieter but also very smart and quick-witted. She always won at Scrabble. She was not afraid to strike out and do things. From 1963 through 1964, she worked as a clinical laboratory technician at Sørlandet Hospital Kristiansand in Norway. She was the first of the siblings to leave home and move to San Francisco. She welcomed me and my friends when we would descend on Union Street.

"Frank was always good looking and very bright. He was good at school, good at sports, and always fun. We loved sitting at the table in the breakfast nook making silly, rude plans. He kept his sense of adventure into adulthood, with his Asian and Mexican adventures, and he always kept his sense of humor. As time passed, the magic of 'Einstein's Theory of Relatives Birthdays' occurred and he actually became older than me! He accepted his fate with grace.

"Jay was the artist in the family. He was also very clever and fun. When Jay was in high school, he created so many funny, funny booklets and letters about my life. I used to take them to the teacher's lounge and to my friends where they were cherished! I still have them. He was always funny and outrageous. He lived life to the fullest in San Francisco."

Kathleen's love of history began in high school, sophomore year, in Sister Mary Gerald's class.

"She was a very good teacher and I think more than anybody else, she made me appreciate history. Her teaching approach was very new. She taught us history by having us participate in it by reliving it. By having your students become part of different historical events, you teach empathy. This was so smart and a real mindblower back in those days. This was long before there were any Renaissance Faires and we were totally enthralled.

"We put on a trial for King Charles I – whether he should have been beheaded or not. We went and did all this crazy research and at a Catholic high school, with 50 kids in your class, you are really not exposed to all these things. I played the prosecuting attorney. I remember a friend of mine, Theresa Rioux, was Charles I. That made me like history. It didn't necessarily make me want to be a teacher. But when I ended up teaching, I tried to do some of the things that she did. I think that is why I liked the Sam Mazza Castle tours (fundraising events for the Pacifica Historical Society), and why I came up with using members of the Pacifica Historical Society as reenactors. It all goes back to Sister Mary Gerald – how you can really like history by being empathetic and trying to put yourself in someone else's shoes. She made a permanent impact."

Kathleen met the man of her dreams, Bill Hall, in late 1967/early 1968 at Shakey's Pizza Parlor in Detroit.

"I was there with my girlfriends and one of them knew one of his friends and they invited him and his cronies to come along. Bill was a big real estate operator, not with a real estate office, but with property. He built houses. Bill had a very interesting career. When he was in his 20s, he was vice president of a U.S. airline that flew internationally.

"Bill was eight years older than me, but yes, I would say the feeling was like, 'Some Enchanted Evening,' when we first met, which is why I can't remember what kind of pizza we had! We definitely had a height difference (Bill was 6 ft. 6 and Kathleen stood at 5 ft. 3) – but we both liked the same things: history, geography, economics and travel." (Bill had a degree in economics, as well as in geography, and he became an antiquarian print expert.)

Immediately an item, the couple moved to San Francisco in 1972. In 1990, the couple moved to Pacifica.

"All these years later, we still get along like two peas in a pod," Kathleen noted in 2018.

"Early on Bill and I decided that we would like to be in the art business in some way and we both liked old prints. We wanted to do wholesale and deal with other dealers. We wanted to have freedom, and we wanted to travel. In the early part of our business we did do a lot of traveling. We have been to every state but Alaska and every city of any size in each state. Back then you could really go treasure hunting."

They also traveled many times to Europe and their clients were from all over the world.

To explain this business the couple created back in 1973, the following information was pulled from the "About" section of their website in 2018:

"Manning's Books and Prints, printsoldandrare.com, is the premier supplier of antique maps and prints in America and has one of the largest collections in the world. The owners, Bill Hall and Kathleen Manning, began collecting and selling antique maps, prints, books and ephemera nearly fifty years ago and their knowledge of map and print makers from the 1500s to the turn of the century is deep and insightful. Many institutions, museums, historical societies, universities, and many individual collectors and dealers acquire their maps or prints from Manning's Books and Prints. For example, libraries and special collections, and government institutions are regular customers, in addition to the private collector with specific interests."

One of their maps was purchased for use in the opening credits of Francis Ford Coppola's "Bram Stoker's Dracula." The map is burned as the credits roll and Kathleen never knew whether they burned the actual map or just showed it and burned something else. "But it was theirs to burn," she would say.

Kathleen's business and historical knowledge made her a popular guest. In August of 2010, and joined by Jeanette Cool, Executive Director of the Sam Mazza Foundation, Kathleen was interviewed by CBS 5 "Eye On The Bay" correspondent and host Brian Hackney for a television segment featuring the history behind the ghosts of Pacifica's Sam Mazza Castle.

In 2018, she was a featured speaker at the Daughters of the American Revolution (DAR) La Puerta de Oro–San Francisco Chapter. She used maps, all of them original, as teaching tools. One, of Nuremberg, Germany, dates back to 1468. Another was a cartoon map of San Mateo, California, created by Ruth Taylor for the 1939/1940 San Francisco Golden Gate International Exposition.

In November of 2022, Kathleen and her shop were featured in a three-part episode of the History Channel television series, "Pawn Stars do America."

In 2025, Kathleen was interviewed by KPIX | CBS News Bay Area to report on "the Pacifica Historical Society's incredible effort to restore the historic Ocean Shore Railroad railcar."

It was in 2004 that Kathleen became involved with saving the last passenger car of the Ocean Shore Railroad. That's when Jeff Millerick, a railcar restoration expert and Preservation Chair of the Northwestern Pacific Railroad Historical Society, discovered a dilapidated old railcar while walking along the former railroad right-of-way in Sebastopol, California. It was in the backyard of a private residence, between two oak trees and had recently been trimmed of its massive camouflaging overgrowth. It looked beyond repair and was slated to be destroyed in two weeks.

Jeff called in railroad historian and OSRR expert John Schmale to identify the car. Nearly a skeleton, it nevertheless revealed an old grandeur, and above the door, the numbers "1409" were faintly visible. Racing against time, John contacted Kathleen, who arranged for the car to be loaded on a flatbed truck and relocated to Pacifica—a herculean effort in itself. Since then, restoration and fundraising has been ongoing, with Kathleen and the late Shirlee Gibbs leading the massive effort on behalf of the PHS. Their dedication not only involved extensive fundraising, but it also included assembling the right team of experts to do the craftsmen work needed. Additionally, they had to tackle the mountains of city paperwork. And all of this they did to restore this once-beautiful Holman passenger car – which traveled our city so long ago – to its former glory.

Along with Kathleen's extensive involvement with the renovation of Car 1409, and the restoration of the Little Brown Church—a story unto itself, there is also her dedication to the San Francisco History Association.

"In July 1982, a group of collectors exhibiting their San Francisco history collections at the first San Francisco Fair at the Moscone Center got to talking about their shared passion and decided to form a group, originally called the San Francisco History Collectors Association," said Sandy Cavallaro, Kathleen's niece. "Kathleen was one of those founding collectors, displaying part of her collection of San Francisco maps and prints. As the group grew to include history buffs as well as collectors, it became the San Francisco History Association. Kathleen later served as the Association's president and started its grant program, which gave small awards to schools, organizations, and individuals for projects such as oral histories, exhibits, and neighborhood histories."

Finally to round out Ms. Manning's résumé, this is a short list of Kathleen's numerous published works: photo author "San Francisco, Early Prints 1848-1900," Windgate Press, 2002; co-author "San Francisco’s Ocean Beach" (Images of America) with Jim Dickson, Arcadia Publishing, 2003; co-author "Half Moon Bay" (Images of America) with Jerry Crow, Arcadia Publishing, 2005; historic captions writer (San Francisco: Views of the Past & Present) with George Ross Jezek, photographer and Angela M. Alioto, introduction, published, 2007; and co-author "Pacifica (Then & Now)" with Jerry Crow, Arcadia Publishing, 2010.

There is too much to report on Kathleen's life in one article, but it is an absolute to say that Kathleen and her husband Bill, who passed on July 29, 2019, enjoyed every bit of their life together.

"Really history, and the saving of it, has played a huge role in my life," Kathleen said in 2018. "That and a wonderful husband and family – I haven't even mentioned all of my lovely nieces and nephews, great-nieces and great-nephews, and great friends – just so many interesting people that I know and have known. There are so many to be thankful for."

Friends and family are invited to gather for a celebration of Kathleen's life on Thursday, October 22, 2:00 p.m. to 5:00 p.m., at the Pacifica Coastside Museum at the Little Brown Church, 1850 Francisco Boulevard, Pacifica.

In lieu of flowers, donations may be made to help restore Pacifica's Ocean Shore Railroad Car 1409 on the GoFundMe page titled: "Help Restore Pacifica's Ocean Shore Railroad Car 1409."

Following this page, a few friends and family members of Kathleen's have offered some thoughts on Pacifica's beloved Go-Getter History Queen.

~ Jean Bartlett, author
October 15, 2026

Longtime biographer and Bay Area newsgroup writer Jean Bartlett was recognized by the Board of Supervisors, County of San Mateo, for "her writing that connects community and preserves local history." She can be contacted through her website, Bartlett's Biographies. This story was sponsored by Pacifican Sue Digre.

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A FEW COMMENTS FROM THE KATHLEEN MANNING FOREVER FAN CLUB, IN NO PARTICULAR ORDER, AND WITH THE UNDERSTANDING THERE WILL BE SO MANY MORE COMMENTS. THIS IS JUST A BEGINNING.

"Kathleen was a force. She will never, ever be forgotten. She was kind. She was intelligent and smart, and she could make a way out of no way. She was dedicated to preserving history, and we were blessed to have her in Pacifica, preserving our history. Our restoration gift to her would be to get that last car of the Ocean Shore Railroad, which she worked on for over 20 years, done!—Maxine Hines, friend

"Aunt Kitty took me to see my very first motion picture at the theater. We saw "Mary Poppins" with popcorn and pop, of course. Since then, even to today, she had that mischievous happy-go-lucky Mary Poppins spirit whenever we got together – never a dull moment!"—Steve Merring, nephew

"Kathleen was one of the very first people I met when setting up an office in the Mazza Castle. It was 2008, the centenary year of the historic building in Pacifica and I had no idea how to celebrate that. But she did. She invited me to a meeting with the Pacifica Historical Society, a most committed group of people, and the rest, as they say, is history. Closed for decades, Kathleen created the first open houses in the Castle followed by years of historic tours bringing literally thousands of people through the doors. Kathleen made things happen and she was my beautiful introduction to this town of Pacifica."—Jeanette Cool, friend, Sam Mazza Foundation Executive Director

"Car 1409 would not be in such an amazing state of renovation today in our town without Kathleen Manning. She herself was always the epitome of humbleness, kindness and collaboration. She herself was a unique Pacifica treasure. I'm sure Kathleen and Shirlee Gibbs will continue to energize us to continue with the same vision and energy to appreciate and preserve our local history."—Sue Digre, friend, met through volunteer work with the PHS

"We met because I interviewed Kathleen and Bill about their business, Prints Old & Rare, for the Pacifica Tribune in 2008 – and a forever friendship began. Kathleen was smart, exceptionally capable and interesting, very giving of her heart and her time, and so much fun to be silly with. Because of her dedication to understanding the importance of saving history, the generations that follow will have a better understanding of our world and theirs."—Jean Bartlett, friend

"I will always treasure the many memories I've made with Kathleen. Her strength, knowledge, perseverance and passion were something great to behold. She loved being involved as well as bringing people together to fulfill her dreams. It has been a pleasure working side by side with her all of these years. She will be truly missed."—Melinda Lindner, friend and employee

"Post retirement from AT&T, I had called Kathleen for a type of fresh air, outdoor task for my mother and myself—we wished to volunteer to help restore Ocean Shore Passenger Car 1409. The rest, as they say, is history."—Deidra Crow, friend

"I met Kathleen shortly after moving to Pacifica in 1992, when she was kind enough to give me a discount on a print I bought at her shop, Prints Old & Rare. We developed a close acquaintance over the next seven years when she followed me as Pacifica Historical Society president. She held that job for 10 years in which time she and her husband, Bill Hall, generously paid the expenses for moving the last Ocean Shore RR passenger car to Pacifica where it is an ongoing restoration project."—Jerry Crow, friend and co-author

"It is the end of an era with Kathleen gone, and also with her husband Bill gone. With Kathleen's passing, so many people will have to change their lives because she did that much. She was an incredibly giving person; always giving so much of herself. I will always remember her."—Dave Alonzo, friend and employee

"Aunt Kitty was one of a kind. She loved history and collected everything from antiques to quirky junk, usually for a laugh. She could connect with anyone from any walk of life, and she made everyone feel like family. She was the heart of ours, and I will miss laughing and working alongside her more than I can say."—Sandy Cavallaro, niece