A man with the spirit of Christmas

Christmas is over and people are beginning to pack away their Christmas lights, tinsel and outdoor displays for another year. It is unfortunate that we are also putting away that special feeling of unselfishness that people so often feel during the Christmas holiday.

Christmas is a time of giving from the heart, not just for one day, but also for each day one wakes up and sees the sun rise again.

Many of you, like me, watched that classic Christmas story about a man who found the true meaning of Christmas.

Yes, it was that old squeezing, wrenching, grasping, scraping, clutching and covetous old sinner, Ebenezer Scrooge himself.

By the end of the Dickens story, Scrooge has learned to keep the spirit of Christmas alive all year long.

Here in Huntington Beach, we once had a resident who, like Scrooge, learned and practiced the spirit of Christmas all year long. I wrote about him in a column nearly a decade ago.

There are no monuments, plaques or statues that mark where this humble man lived.

This man’s name was Thomas Bishop Watson, and you might call him a man of the world because he wasn’t born in a country but on the open sea in 1845. His parents were on the way to America from their native Bohemia, now the Czech Republic.

As Watson grew to adulthood, he sought work as a landscape gardener and as a fisherman. In later life he became a beachcomber on our shore in Huntington Beach.

In 1908 Watson, at age 63, arrived here without any money. He looked south toward the mouth of the Santa Ana River, and just 500 feet inland he built his “castle of content.”

This was nestled beside a sand dune amid wild cane and a sea of driftwood.

He laid out his castle grounds even though he didn’t own the property, but claimed it through squatter’s rights.

His property was 40 feet north to south and 60 feet east to west; it lay in a depression and was hidden from view.

He laid out this dream castle in the shape of a boat, pointed at one end and tapering at the other.

He began collecting lumber that washed ashore and wild cane that grew nearby to build a stockade. Around his stockade were thick walls to keep out the floodwaters, and there was a strong gate that rarely kept out visitors.

Once inside, visitors saw three small huts, or doll cabins as he called them, along with neatly trimmed fruit trees and flower and vegetable gardens.

In each of these cabins Watson had put a fireplace for heat and cooking, a cupboard for storing food and a built-in bed. Each was spotlessly clean.

Watson himself lived in one of these cabins, where he would practice his philosophy of neighborly relations.

His neighbors saw Watson as a kind and gentle man, standing some 5 feet 8 with gray hair and beard. Although an old man in years, he had the spring in his step of a young man.

His neighbors knew of his castle and would always speak highly of him.

Watson was a devoutly religious man, and his Bible would always be found in a prominent place in his cabin.

In 1922 he met a Frenchman named Michaels and invited him to live in one of his cabins.

The two would spend many evenings discussing their philosophies of life and of the world.

A year later, a third man joined the two. His name was Henri Marki, and these three old men worked to earn a few dollars in the lima bean fields.

In the summer, these three men would head north in search of work and would leave their castle gate open for anyone needing a place to stay.

Watson also left money and provisions on his table for any guest who stopped.

Watson believed that all men were his brothers and were welcome to stay as long as they needed.

It didn’t matter to Watson if these men were poor or misguided men, for they were all his brothers.

In the nearly 20 years that Watson lived here, nothing was ever stolen from his cabins when he was away.

Sometimes when he returned home, he found more money on the table than when he left.

How many of you would leave your front door open for strangers while you were away? Watson’s furnishings may not have cost as much as yours, but to him they were just as precious.

Watson believed that the world is honest and men are good, and isn’t that what the spirit of Christmas is all about?

May the memory of Thomas Bishop Watson, his deeds, his unselfish giving to his fellow man and his spirit always remain a living treasure of our city.

* JERRY PERSON is a local historian and longtime Huntington Beach resident. If you have ideas for future columns, write him at P.O. Box 7182, Huntington Beach, CA 92615.

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