Aug 22

Aug 22 Dad's Old Oak Tree

Written by Drew Mashburn | Photos from Family Archives

I can only share what I've been told by my late father, Harold Clyde Mashburn. He always insisted the ancient Valley Oak on his parents’ property – which we'll call the Old Oak – was one of the largest trees standing in the entire Ojai Valley, or at the very least, in Meiners Oaks. I asked Dad how he could be so sure of that. You see, he was born in 1925, a mere four years after our town's name changed from "Nordhoff" to "Ojai." Dad spent almost his entire life here, and he often spoke of a time when the valley had far fewer people, making it much easier to explore areas that are now mostly off-limits to folks like us.

Recently, I visited my Aunt Betty, Dad's younger sister, and Uncle Keith, who are both in their 90s. During our time together, Uncle Keith, who's been a resident of the Ojai Valley for nearly his entire life, emphasized that the Old Oak was, without a doubt, the largest tree in Meiners Oaks. Aunt Betty chimed in, confirming that it was "HUGE!"

I was hoping to glean all kinds of cool info about the Old Oak from Aunt Betty and Uncle Keith, but they reminded me that they aren't exactly young anymore and that when they lived in the family home as young adults, it was like, at least, 70 years ago. But we had a terrific visit even though little about the Old Oak was exchanged.

Dad used to share stories of how he and Aunt Betty would spend time together in the shade beneath the massive canopy of the Old Oak tree. Aunt Betty recalled the same, although she couldn't quite remember the specifics of their childhood games — you know, typical kid stuff. She did mention that their father had placed rabbit hutches under the Old Oak, presumably to keep the bunnies comfortable.

I asked Aunt Betty if she used to play with dolls under the tree. She said she didn't, but instead, she enjoyed playing house in the henhouse their father had built. She'd set up her imaginary home on top of the barrels of chicken feed stored in the coop. She also shared a funny memory of when they'd feed the chickens; sometimes, the feathered creatures would startle her, and she'd respond by tossing seed at them to shoo them away. I couldn't help but chuckle as I recalled doing the same thing with my Grandpa Clyde's chickens as a toddler. It seems our tendency to abuse chickens might run in the family, or perhaps we were just a little chicken-hearted ourselves!

Drew on his Grandma Jewel's lap and Drew's little brother, Mitch, on their mother's (Arlou's) lap

Once, when I was a young man, my father and I were having a conversation about his home during his teenage days. Dad mentioned something that caught my attention — he said that when he stepped onto the back porch with his .22 rifle, he was immediately in the midst of a hunt. Intrigued, I asked him to elaborate because it took me by surprise. I said, "What do you mean you were hunting?" He went on to explain that during those days, there were no homes behind his parents’ house. The Thomas Aquinas Church hadn't been built yet, and Nordhoff High School was still in the planning stages. In the area where the high school now stands, there used to be an expansive marshy area that offered "some of the best duck hunting in the county!"

At that point, Dad shared something even more astonishing with me: he could shoot a bird, squirrel, rabbit, or just about anything right from the back porch.

Dad mentioned that he and his teenage buddies used to go hunting right in the heart of Meiners Oaks with their firearms. It wasn't just them; even adults participated. He described the houses that stood in those days and who lived in them. Dad emphasized the importance of being cautious about the direction they aimed when they shot.

Then, Dad shared an interesting detail with me: he used the Old Oak tree as a backstop for the targets he practiced shooting with his rifle. I reckon that's because he was aiming toward East El Roblar Drive. He and my Aunt Betty recalled that only open fields were between the property's north side and El Roblar Drive. I can't help but think that if anyone attempted to fire a rifle nowadays in Meiners Oaks or even displayed one in public, it wouldn't be long before the SWAT team had them flat on the ground, face down in the dirt!

According to Aunt Betty, my Grandpa had a green thumb and had planted numerous trees, mainly peaches, on the land behind our home's backyard. She shared that she and her best friend, Francie, would pluck the ripe peaches and load them onto her Dad's pickup. Remarkably, at just 14 years old, Aunt Betty managed to obtain a special driver's license that allowed her to drive the peaches to the market in Ventura with Francie as her passenger.

I must admit, I'm a bit envious of my aunt, especially since I'm relatively certain my Grandpa's pickup was an impressive 1941 Ford. Aunt Betty's license was only legal to use when she was working. In addition to the peach trees, she mentioned that her father also had a huge watermelon patch going year after year.

I mentioned the property where my aunt and uncle lived, and I imagine readers of this article would like to know where the Old Oak stood. My Grandpa Clyde and Grandma Jewell had the house built on South Lomita Avenue around 1940. When my Dad and Aunt Betty moved into that home, they were about fifteen and nine years old, respectively. The house sat on a plot of land that spanned just under five acres and remains the same today. This was back when there was no Stockbridge Lane on the north side of the property.

Unfortunately, my Grandma Jewell died in a horrific automobile accident on January 1, 1954, when I was only two years and seven months old. My Grandpa Clyde asked newlyweds Aunt Betty and Uncle Keith to move in with him. My grandfather sold the home in 1955. Believe it or not, I do have some faint memories of visiting the house before it was sold out of the family.

The house has changed hands a few times since my grandparents were the owners, but it currently belongs to Grace and Dan Malloy. They purchased the spread in 2013 and moved into the house in 2014. Since then, the Malloys have operated "Poco Farm" out of the property. They've been doing this for several years, welcoming a wide range of participants, from elementary school students (including preschoolers and babies) to college students and regular, old adults, all taking part in the programs they offer.

Grace mentioned to me that she and Dan are actively working on making their programs free to all schools, with the goal of providing their produce to worthy initiatives like Help of Ojai and the Ojai Unified School District for free. I suppose they could do so with the 50 beds of growing veggies and all those fruit trees. I also know they have both baby and adult goats, although I forgot to inquire if they produce fresh milk – but I bet they do.

The Malloys have plans to introduce summer camps and after-school programs in the near future. Grace mentioned that they have informational leaflets about Poco Farm available.

Grace told me two Poco employees were walking near the Old Oak when they witnessed it topple. Despite its tremendous weight, they told her it did not shake the ground much upon which they stood. Not long after the toppling, I went to see the Old Oak. While there, I met Dan Malloy. He told me that he and Grace intend on keeping the huge diameter and long tree trunk where it fell and incorporating it into the programs they offer. Also, she told me the Old Oak acts as a play structure for the children attending programs. For me, it's nice to think kids are still enjoying the Old Oak, as did my Dad and Aunt Betty so long ago.

Grace put me in touch with Ron Wheat, a professional arborist who is quite familiar with the Old Oak. According to Ron, the root structure of it had died off. As the roots were dying off, the entire canopy began to break down, therefore dropping limbs. To make matters worse, the Old Oak had become structurally unsound due to a lack of proper tree-care practices by previous arborists. Ron, who had worked in tree care throughout the Ojai Valley for many, many years, and had never seen a larger Valley Oak. He even encouraged others to seek out a local oak tree with a larger trunk and inform the Malloys if they did.

Ron also shared that the the Old Oak was just that... O.L.D.! And it was it's time to move on.

Grace mentioned that when visitors come to participate in programs, they are welcomed by the Old Oak, and its significance is explained to them. Observing the tree, one can see that its trunk had rotted out at the center. Grace said when it toppled, all kinds of decomposed organic matter that had been high up the trunk spilled out onto the ground. They didn't let this valuable compost go to waste; instead, they used it to enrich nearby agricultural areas.

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Grace also shared a fascinating tidbit — before the tree toppled over, there was a small cavity near its base, and in the cavity was a bobcat skull that they left there. Unfortunately, after the tree came down, they could not locate the skull. Given the tree's immense size, it had likely been a habitat or resting place for various wildlife. Even today, Grace describes the Old Oak as a "gathering place for macro and micro-communities." The tree still fosters life.

One more intriguing detail Grace mentioned was a piece of local lore she had heard, though she hadn't been able to confirm it. The Old Oak had supposedly been known as a "Letter Writing Tree" in the past, where people would write notes and pin them to the tree. I like that idea. We should find another special tree in the Ojai Valley, then start using it in the same manner. That's a cool community thing to do! Oh, yeah...and Grace told me a raccoon family used to hang out in the Old Oak. If they had been around in the note-pinning days, that might've made the pinning of notes rather tricky.

My Dad passed in 1998. He was only 72 years old, the same age I am now. I know I'm not a young dude anymore, but now I realize 72 is too young to die. My Aunt Betty and Dad were really close. When she got to missing him, she'd sometimes drive over to Stockbridge Lane and reminisce in her head about their wonderful times together. My Mom, Arlou Mashburn (now deceased), gave Aunt Betty some of my Dad's ashes following his cremation. Aunt Betty chose to scatter them beneath the tree. The Old Oak was, and will always be, Dad's tree.