Vincente Fernando Ortega (1885-1983)
by Roseann Leyva King, Regina Delahay
Arroyo Hondo Ranch Adobe, undated (Courtesy of Roseann Leyva King)
Vincente as a young man, undated (Courtesy of Roseann Leyva King)
My grandfather, Vincente Fernando Ortega, was the last of the Ortegas to occupy the Arroyo Hondo Ranch. He was born in a shack near the estuary. Vicente Ortega’s father was Fernando Ortega, a fourth-generation descendant of José Francisco Ortega, the commanding officer of the Santa Barbara Presidio from 1782 to 1784.
Vincente attended the school on the Ranch. Vincente learned to ride a horse at the age of five. He became an excellent horseman and trainer. A hardworking man, he treated rounding up cattle as routinely as tending the fields and fruit orchard.
Vincente married four times. With his first wife, Maria del Carmen Lopez, he had a son, Vicente (Tim); with his third wife, Marguerite Luisa, he had five children, three sons (Albert, Julius, George) and two daughters (Victoria and Carmelita). His fourth wife, Florence Robideaux, survived him. Sons Julius and George served in the Army during WWII and both were captured and held as prisoners of war until their release in 1946. The ranch remained a home to Vicente and three sons, as well as a gathering place for his other children, grandchildren and great-grandchildren.
Vincente was well regarded for his many talents and the richness of his personal history. He was named an honorary member of the Santa Barbara Vistadores, served as Grand Marshal of the Fiesta Parade in 1979, and was honored as Vaquero of the Santa Barbara Rodeo at age 84. Vincente cherished family life. His sense of humor and his kindness touched everyone he met. He lived to the age of 98.
Vincente Fernando Ortega as a Vaquero (Courtesy of Roseann Leyva King)
Vincente Fernando Ortega in later life, undated (Courtesy of Roseann Leyva King)
I’m Roseann Leyva King, the first granddaughter of Vincente. Some of my fondest memories are of time spent with my grandfather at the Ranch. I’d sleep on a simple cot beside the old wood-burning stove. He’d rise at five every morning, quietly brewing black coffee-mine always came with mostly milk. He would say to me, “Here’s your black coffee and beans.” My favorite part of the day was swinging from the big Eucalyptus tree in front of the adobe, on the swing he made with his loving hands.