Seeking the spirit of San Juan Capistrano, past and present

Looking up at the dramatic ruins of the Great Stone Church at Mission San Juan Capistrano from a café across the street, I imagined how the landscape might have looked in 1812 when an earthquake devastated the church.

Was it dotted with grazing cattle? Was it lined with rows of crops?

In the bright afternoon light, the church evoked an old-world vibe despite the modern surroundings: cars sparkling in the sun, sidewalks bustling with tourists. This juxtaposition of old and new, modest and opulent, reminded me of how our present landscape intermingles with the past.

While studying history in graduate school, I learned the Latin term genius loci, which roughly translates to “the spirit of the place.” At the time, it was both a romantic notion and an elusive concept. I was intrigued by the challenge of determining how a place’s elements shape its distinctive character, in terms of the physical structures and the people who inhabit them.

I realize, of course, that the answer varies depending on where you look and who you talk to. History is dynamic, and its interpretation can be controversial.

On a recent weekend trip to San Juan Capistrano with my wife, Susan, also an archivist, I sought to find threads from the past woven into the fabric of the present. To me, history is a puzzle, and research and observation can help fill in missing pieces. While exploring the town and its mission, I hoped a genius loci would come into focus.

After our tour, with a crostata from Ellie’s and java from nearby Hidden House Coffee in hand, Susan and I headed to a shaded picnic table on the plaza between the 1790s Montanez and Rios adobe homes. Savoring our treat, we contemplated the rarity of encountering such old buildings in California and wondered about preservation.

How much of the structures was original, and how much was replaced? How do restoration efforts impact a historical site’s importance?

It’s a parlor game of sorts. One must extrapolate from what survives to imagine how things once were, and the more of the past that survives, the easier it is to envision. Thankfully, San Juan Capistrano’s efforts to preserve and restore homes and interpret the lives of its antecedents gave us good glimpses. 

I suspected “the spirit of the place” would reveal itself further at the mission, where nearly all of the town’s historical lines coalesce.

As I entered the courtyard, the exposed and pitted adobe brick buildings, the unevenly paved arcades, and the ornate chapel interiors transported me to another era. Taken as a whole, the mission allowed us to see how past eras overlap and often obscure some of what came before. For example, the gardens—a product of the 20th century—grow in spaces once devoted to the work of the mission’s inhabitants.

When O’Sullivan expanded Serra’s namesake chapel, the sole remaining mission church in California where Serra celebrated Mass, he secured the donation of an ancient altar and retablo—but raised the roof to install them, altering the space considerably.

Although now more ornate, the building retains the spirit of its original purpose and feel. This is an example of how genius loci can evolve based on a place’s needs and uses. It is neither good nor bad, but a natural progression.

Historians will tell you history is ongoing and not a static set of facts. And in north San Juan Capistrano, I found more voices being added to the region’s story.

After years of lobbying, the Village of Putuidem, a 1.5-acre community park dedicated to the Acjachemen tribe, opened in December 2021. It has an interpretive trail, a native plant habitat, and an amphitheater where tribal members can hold ceremonies and share their stories.

In its own way, this new park demonstrates how the spirit of San Juan Capistrano continues to reveal itself.

San Juan Capistrano is a stop on Metrolink and Amtrak’s Pacific Surfliner. The Los Rios Historic District, the mission, and downtown shops and restaurants are all within walking distance of the depot.

Auto Club historian and archivist Morgan P. Yates has been writing Westways’ Off-Ramp column since 2001.