Let me start with a curious example. In 1920,
a hundred-pound ‘mystery bell’ was unearthed in an orange grove near the
San Fernando Mission. This was a Catholic mission founded about 35 miles
northwest of Los Angeles by Spanish padres as they moved up from Mexico.
The bell carried an inscription in what was presumed to be ‘a forgotten
Slavonic language,’ which was nonetheless eventually deciphered, and turned
out to read as follows:
“In the Year 1796, in the month of January, this
bell was cast on the Island of Kodiak by the blessing of Archimandrite
Joaseph, during the sojourn of Alexsandr Baranov.”
We still do not know exactly how this Russian Orthodox
artifact from Kodiak, Alaska made its way to a Catholic mission in Southern
California, but the peripatetic bell provides a suitable emblem of the
Russian diaspora on the Pacific Rim and its intertwining with Spanish and
native American cultures.
The embryo of the Russian diaspora is to be found
in the expansion of the Russian Empire into Siberia and the Far East in
the sixteenth century, an expansion motivated in large measure by the fur
trade. This eastward thrust reached its logical conclusion in the first
half of the eighteenth century when an officer in the Russian navy, a man
by the name of Vitus Bering, mounted an expedition to find out whether
Asia and America were connected by a land bridge. Bering, whose name graces
the straits in this area, died during his second expedition in 1741, but
his comrades went on to explore the Aleutian islands and the coast of Alaska.
Their report of an abundance of fur-bearing mammals led to a flurry of
activity that might be called ‘the Alaska fur rush. ‘ Thus, unlike many
other major immigrant groups of those years, Russians first appeared on
the west coast of the American continent, rather than the east coast. And
they came initially seeking economic profit, rather than on a religious
mission, like the Spanish, or on a quest for religious or political freedom,
like the Russians who would appear on much of the early Russian activity
came under the auspices of a Russian enterprise called the Russian-American
Company, which dealt primarily in furs. Since it needed native workers
and trappers, however, and since the Orthodox Church was the crux of Russian
culture at the time, the outposts of the Russian-American Company were
inevitably marked by missionary ventures and, occasionally by intervention
of the Church on behalf of native workers. Violence and coercion were hardly
alien to the settlements, but it is significant that Orthodox missionaries
followed several principles that fostered a certain degree of spiritual
independence among those they sought to convert. For one thing, they did
not require the total denial of native religions, but rather made use of
structural similarities in Christianity and these systems of belief. In
addition, the missionaries worked in the local vernacular, translating
church materials, rather than imposing a foreign language and foreign conceptual
structures on the native population. Finally, from relatively early on,
the missionaries promoted the development of native clergy, so that Orthodoxy
would continue as a native tradition, rather than an alien tradition continuously
imposed from outside.
This effort was successful. Even after Alaska was
sold to the United States in 1867 and the early Russian diaspora abated,
Russian Orthodoxy survived as a major element in religious life of the
North American Pacific Rim. Witness the fact that the first Russian Orthodox
Church on the American continent, the Church of the Holy Resurrection founded
on Kodiak in 1794, is still an active church today, some two hundred years
later. The number of Orthodox churches in Alaska grew from a small handful
in the early years, to fifteen in 1906, and to more than seventy in 1990.
The settlements in Alaska are hardly the whole
story of the Russian presence on this side of the Pacific Rim. California
also plays a role. In 1806 the Russian-American Company mounted an expedition
to the Spanish mission in San Francisco, presumably to secure provisions,
though perhaps just as much to see what the Spanish were up to. Two members
of the expedition found California so much to their liking that they jumped
ship, thus becoming the first representatives of the Russian diaspora to
settle permanently in California.
But more important for our present purposes is
the fact that six years later, the Russians returned to found a settlement
they called ‘Ross-Slaviansk’ somewhat north of a river they called ‘Slavianka’
and a bay they called ‘Port Rumiantsev.’ Today we use a melange of Russian
and English and call the settlement ‘Fort Ross.’ In an interesting sidelight,
it has been suggested that the Spanish and English added ‘Fort’ to the
name of the settlement to increase the sense of a military threat from
the Russian presence. Indeed, according to Spanish documents, it was in
order ‘to guard the [Spanish] dominions from all invasion and insult’ from
the Russians that the Spanish padres were given permission to move north
from the Baja Peninsula and found the California missions that formed the
backbone of the future state. Moreover, the San Rafael Mission in northern
California was established quite specifically to prevent the spread of
Russian influence below Fort Ross. Today however, we call the river ‘Slavianka,’
simply the ‘Russian River’; and, switching to a Spanish mode, we call the
erstwhile Port Rumiantsev ‘Bodega Bay.’ In these names, as well as in the
names of properties such as ‘Khlebnikov Rancho’ and ‘Kostromitinov Rancho,’
we see the melange of Russian, Spanish, and English culture that shaped
the development of much of California.
As a final note to this early period, let me mention
that the Russians made an attempt to establish a settlement in Hawaii in
1815 because of its advantageous position between Asia and America. Apparently
the remains of a Russian Fort can still be seen at Waimea on Kanai, and
documents related to the (ultimately unsuccessful) attempt at colonization
are housed in the Bancroft Library at Berkeley.
Subsequent variants of the Russian diaspora generally
resulted from political upheaval and religious oppression. The major political
event was, of course, the Russian Revolution of 1917. Some Russians who
had mutually unsympathetic relations with the Bolsheviks escaped to Europe,
sometimes working their way to the east coast of the Untied States thereafter.
Other exiles, however, continued the ‘Pacific Rim’ tradition, escaping
by means of the Trans-Siberian Rail Road into China and establishing flourishing
Russian colonies in Shanghai and Harbin. Some of these émigrés
came to the United States relatively directly, arriving in the 1920s, while
others established a life for themselves in China and left only when a
second communist revolution turned their lives upside down.
Most crossed the pacific and settled in San Francisco
or Los Angeles, especially in Hollywood, where the impact of the émigré
communities can be documented by the founding and growth of Russian Orthodox
churches, Russian language newspapers, and, in the case of Hollywood, the
number of Russian names that appears in film credits from the twenties
through the sixties. There were twelve Russian Orthodox churches functioning
in San Francisco in 1980, most or all presumably functioning still today,
and there are others in Berkeley and farther down on the San Francisco
Peninsula. The first Russian Orthodox church in Southern California was
the Church of the Holy Virgin Mary on Micheltorena Street in Hollywood,
which was founded in the twenties and continues today as a hub of Russian
cultural activity. It is primarily through the parishioners of this church
and other Orthodox churches in the area -- there are two more in Hollywood
and several others elsewhere in Southern California -- that my colleagues
and I plan to document the foundations of Russian culture in Los Angeles.