Chumash Leader Speech

The Port Hueneme Historical Society Museum Distinguished Speaker Series: Julie Tumanait-Stenslie15me and hus

Julie Tumanait-Stenslie will be speaking about Chumash Culture, History and Song (Within the Context of Chumash Storytelling) at the Port Hueneme Historical Society Museum 220 Market Street on May 21, 2016 at 11:00AM.

Julie traces her Chumash ancestry through her father, Vincent Tumamait, a leader or paha among the Chumash.

She has tracked her ancestors to at least eleven known Chumash villages and as far back in time as the middle of the Eighteenth Century. Historically, that’s even before the Portolá Expedition of 1769 reached Alta California.

Julie will talk about the ancient homelands of the Chumash that once extended from the villages of Hichimin, Lu’upsh and Swaxil on Santa Rosa and Santa Cruz Islands—to as far north as San Luis Obispo County—and as far south as Humaliwo (Malibu).

Julie has resided in the Ojai area almost her entire life, and currently resides in a Meiner’s Oaks home located very near the birthplace of her great-great-grandmother, Maria Ricarda Alulalmeque, who raised in the Chumash village of Matilija.

In addition to raising three nearly adult children, she and her husband Bruce share their home with one rabbit, two birds, four dogs, eleven chickens and too many cats to count.



Monterey Cypress Event

The Port Hueneme Historical Society Museum Grandpawill unveil a plaque commemorating “Grandpa,” Port Hueneme’s beloved Monterey Cypress tree on Saturday, May 14, 2016 at 11:00 AM on the museum grounds behind 220 Market Street.  

As a part of the celebration, Mayor Pro Tem Jonathan Sharkey will be sharing his personal memories of August 4, 1997, when a steady stream of Port Hueneme residents filed past “Grandpa” to reminisce, mourn, and pay their last respects to the “Friendly City by the Sea’s” oldest citizen. The event also included a candlelight vigil at sunset, members of the Chumash tribe giving thanks while burning sage, and the reading of a poem especially composed for the occasion.

The plaque explains that the Monterey Cypress once stood over 100 feet tall and boasted a trunk with a diameter in excess of six feet. A 12-ft portion of the trunk weighed a staggering 17,500 lbs.

While the actual age of the tree has always inspired lively debate, arborists claim that “Grandpa” reached the ripe old age of 375 years, and at its demise, was acknowledged as the “second oldest Cypress in California.”

Monterey Cypress Poem

“Commemoration of the Second Oldest Monterey Cypress Tree in California” by Jonathan Sharkey (Port Hueneme 1997)

Who was it that slept
beneath your canopy?
Who first lingered
in your shade?
On which day 
was that first shoot seen?
Which bird was it 
dropped that seed
when passing on the fly?
How many more have there been
that sprouted, grew, and died?
Which children climbed 
in your branches?
Did their children’s 
children too?
How many passing
by the way
Would stop to look at you?
The Spaniard passed this way
— seems only an hour ago —
Horses — then wagons —
driven by.
How many thought to know
your branches 
reaching o’er the road?
Did any pause
on summer days
enjoy your shade, 
then go?
In winter wind
with dripping Mac, 
did the teamster shelter there, 
bang out the rain 
from his storm-soaked hat, 
water streaking off his hair?
Sailors and sinners, 
preachers and saints, 
pass by in this long parade.
A car, a truck, a bicycle –
buildings rise and fall.
Lights come on at twilight, 
go off again at dawn.
The ship that was here yesterday 
is now out to sea and gone.
Passing by — the Chumash lad.
Passing by — the farmer.
Passing by each step, each day, 
in dust and time each step away
from where they lived in their today 
to someplace even farther
on. Yet constant you remain.
How do we measure such a life?
Seedling, tree, and rotten branch?
In our brief passage on this road
what is it we can say 
but, “Yes, I stopped
beneath its shade
and waited for a while,
but I had other things to do
and so went on
as will you too.”
Yet glancing once or twice around
we catch a glimpse 
through clouded eye
of all those walking down this road,
Grandpaof all our fellow passersby.