Nellie Coffman
Nellie Coffman arrived for a visit in the tiny village of Palm Springs with her son, Earl, in 1908. The village was still in recovery, as a drought had wiped out the 80 acres of orchards and cultivated property of Judge John Guthrie McCallum. It also drove away most of the small farmers who had bought or leased land from McCallum. His dream of an agricultural Eden would one day be realized, but by others at the eastern end of the Valley.
The daughter of a Dallas hotel owner, Coffman saw Palm Springs’ potential to grow through a different industry: tourism. Though she was not the first person to see that potential, no one was her equal at the time in making it a reality.
Coffman was approached by Dr. Welwood Murray to buy his Palm Springs Hotel, the first hotel in town, according to late former mayor Frank Bogert’s authoritative book, “Palm Springs: First Hundred Years.” Murray was convinced by McCallum to build the hotel and was ready to sell after the 11-year drought. But, he was unsuccessful. Coffman returned with her husband, Dr. Harry Coffman, and two sons the following year. They bought Lavinia Crocker’s Sanitorium, which was located a block away and across the street from Murray’s hotel.
Coffman and her husband began their enterprise as a sanatorium, but within a few years, she realized it was a better opportunity to transform the property into a proper hotel. She and Dr. Coffman parted ways on the issue, so Coffman and her sons, George Richardson and Earl Coffman, dedicated themselves to transforming their property into the Desert Inn.
In fairly short order, Coffman replaced the Sanitorium’s shabby wood frame and canvas tents with bungalows. She focused on making the dining room and service at the Desert Inn memorable. Though her hotelier father was skeptical about her plans for the hotel, Coffman must’ve learned a few things from him. One of her first acts when her refurbished hotel was up and running was to invite two reporters from the Los Angeles Times. Subsequently, they raved about the food and hospitality.
Throughout the 1920s – even as competitors grew up on all sides – Coffman’s establishment was the destination of choice for celebrities of the era such as Irving Berlin, Shirley Temple, and J. Edgar Hoover. Ernie Pyle, a pre-eminent World War II correspondent, credited Coffman with creating the vogue for desert vacationing. Coffman died in 1950 and the hotel steadily declined. It was sold and demolished in 1956 to make way for the ill-conceived Desert Fashion Plaza mall, which opened in 1967 and was demolished in 2014. Where Coffman’s bungalows and the first swimming pool once stood is now the site of shops on North Palm Canyon Drive, the Kimpton Rowan hotel, and a giant statue of Marilyn Monroe.
Pearl McCallum McManus
Long before anyone thought of creating something more luxurious than Dr. Welwood Murray’s Palm Springs Hotel, Judge John Guthrie McCallum’s daughter, Pearl, waded and splashed in the rock-lined irrigation ditches that her father built to bring water from Tahquitz Canyon to his fruit ranch. Her father moved to the area (originally called Agua Caliente, then Palm Valley; it officially became Palm Springs in 1890) hoping that it would improve his eldest son’s health. McCallum acquired over 6,000 acres of land and later sold 137 parcels, hoping that an agricultural Eden would grow from the 19 miles of irrigation ditches. However, in 1893, a record 21 days of continuous rainfall flooded the area, destroyed crops and irrigation, and drove away the early settlers. Judge McCallum died in 1897, nearly destitute except for his now worthless land.
Pearl McCallum married a Pasadena real estate man named Austin McManus and they re-established themselves in Palm Springs with their new company, Pioneer Properties. Though Pearl owned some land, she was virtually unknown to the new inhabitants. She set about changing that. She shrewdly sought out absentee landowners and bought up their properties. She spent much of her life reacquiring the McCallum family land and was, at one time, the largest individual landowner in Palm Springs, according to Katherine Ainsworth’s book “The McCallum Saga: The Story of the Founding of Palm Springs.”
McManus commissioned Lloyd Wright, son of Frank Lloyd Wright, to design the Oasis Hotel. In doing so, she set up a rivalry with Nellie Coffman (and Ruth Hardy, owner of Ingleside Inn) that spanned decades. After the Oasis, McManus’ proudest achievement was building the Palm Springs Tennis Club. She was one of the great philanthropists of early Palm Springs, as she created scholarships for local students and donated land for her beloved Palm Springs Woman’s Club. She created the city’s first subdivision, Tahquitz River Estates, and was responsible for helping to design and build Saks Fifth Avenue and Robinson’s department stores. Land that she sold to the City of Palm Springs later became the site of Palm Springs International Airport.
Though McManus was sophisticated (despite her family’s straitened circumstances, she attended LA’s prestigious Marlborough School), she was at home in a saddle and loved nothing more than exploring the mountains on horseback and attending chuckwagon breakfasts – a featured event among old Palm Springs society. She was the Valley’s first mega-philanthropist, and her McCallum Foundation donated untold millions toward civic improvement. McManus died in 1966.
Cornelia White
Legend has it that Miss Cornelia White and her sister, Florilla, fled from a foreign colony in Mexico on a railroad handcart in 1912 when the revolution flared up on their doorstep. The Whites had heard about a quaint little village in the desert; so, after making it across the border, they made their way to Palm Springs. They met Dr. Welwood Murray (who, evidently, was still asking guests if they wanted to buy his hotel) and not long after, they became the proprietors of the Palm Springs Hotel. Unlike their hotel neighbors, they did not offer meals.
Both Miss Whites listed their occupation as housekeeper. If so, Cornelia was one of the more unusual housekeepers, even in a town of desert eccentrics. Her outfit – every day of her life – consisted of “riding pants, leather puttees, [a] safari jacket, and [an] African pitch helmet,” according to Frank Bogert. Reportedly, Cornelia spent as much time in the saddle as she did on the ground. She was also savvy in business and acquired some choice downtown properties in the ensuing years.
Cornelia lived to see her home (the second oldest non-Indigenous structure in town) made into the permanent home of the Palm Springs Historical Society by the Board of Directors of the Desert Museum, according to her 1961 obituary in The Desert Sun. She was a cofounder and driving force behind the creation of what was once known as the Palm Springs Desert Museum. She donated land on Tahquitz Canyon Way between Indian Canyon Drive and Palm Canyon Drive to the museum.
Ruth Hardy
Palm Springs – it says it all in the name. It’s seductive, an oasis, a place to cool off and refresh oneself in cool waters beneath towering tropical palms. Therefore, it’s surprising to consider that palm trees were not ubiquitous in the village 100 years ago. They didn’t line Palm Canyon Drive, nor did they tower over every new house that was built. Sure, there were clusters here and there. Early photos show some palm trees near the hot springs in the downtown area. The California fan palm (Washingtonia filifera) is also known as the petticoat palm for the thick skirt of dead palm fronds that protect its thick, straight trunk. It is the only native palm tree in California. Though it’s an integral part of Indigenous life, mythology, and culture, it’s not the swaying giraffe’s neck seen on a billion postcards. In fact, the most common palm trees in the Valley are the date palm and the Mexican fan palm (Washingtonia robusta).
As charming as the village was 100 years ago, it didn’t exactly live up to its name. Ruth Hardy changed all that. When she arrived in Palm Springs in 1935 with her husband, Jack, they were already financially well-established and savvy businesspeople. A graduate of Indiana University, Hardy worked as a lawyer, medical worker, interior designer, and actress before getting into the hospitality business.
She set her sights on the Birge estate. Located on the south end of town, the sprawling Spanish Colonial estate was built in 1922 by the heirs to the Marmon Motor Car Company, which produced luxury cars from 1902 to 1933. Though it was sometimes referred to as the Rolls Royce of America, the company suffered an irreversible decline during the Great Depression. Hardy was able to acquire the Birge estate and by 1940, she had transformed it to a hotel called the Birge Estate, after the previous owners. (It was renamed Ingleside Inn by Mel Haber when he acquired it in 1975.)
Realizing that competing hotels had a marketing edge (the Desert Inn has tradition on its side, for instance), Hardy decided to go with exclusivity at a time when the town’s cachet was being built on its celebrity visitors. To stay at Ingleside Inn, one had to be invited; random reservations were not accepted. It was successful from the start. Its guest of regular invitees included Clark Gable, Elizabeth Taylor, and Salvador Dali.
When her business was successful, Hardy decided to get involved in local politics. The city was incorporated in 1938, and in the post-war years, Hardy served on the City Council. She was one of the few females to get a spot at the table in those days. Hardy proposed that hundreds of trees should be planted along Palm Canyon Drive in 1947. Two years later, she got her wish. It helped that one of her most enthusiastic backers was Charlie Farrell, who was an actor, founder of the Racquet Club, and mayor from 1947 to 1955. Three hundred trees – 150 Washingtonia robustas and 150 Washingtonia filaferas – were planted along Palm Canyon Drive at a cost of $950,000 (approximately $13,500,000 today). Though that figure might have made taxpayers gasp at the time, the investment paid off. Untold thousands of palm trees have been planted since. They almost blanket the Valley, and Hardy literally changed the face of the area.
Harriet Cody
Harriet Cody’s life is a lesson in the fickleness of fate. She was born into a wealthy family in Philadelphia and, reportedly, was a cousin of showman Buffalo Bill Cody. She attended Vassar College and later wed an up-and-coming architect named William Bryant Cody, who worked for a prestigious East Coast architectural firm. Their lives should have continued in comfort and luxury. Then, Cody contracted tuberculosis. They first moved to San Francisco and then to Hollywood in the belief that his condition would improve.
When Cody was stricken with a deadly pneumonia, the couple spent time in Palm Springs. They rented a cottage in 1916 next to the Desert Inn, according to historian Renee Brown’s 2018 article for The Desert Sun. Cody continued to work; he is credited for his work on the Pomona Institute of Music and Riverside’s famous Mission Inn. He also drew up the plans for Palm Springs’ other socialite resident, Lois Kellogg, for her Moroccan-inspired home, Fool’s Folly – an eccentric enterprise that was never completed.
As Cody’s condition worsened, the couple was forced to give up their life and work in Hollywood and move permanently to the desert, according to Brown. They traded their Hollywood home for 80 acres in the desert, on which they initially lived in a crude camp. They began construction on their small adobe house next to neighboring Desert Inn in 1920.
After Cody died in 1924, Harriet needed to support herself and her young daughter. An accomplished and ardent rider, Harriet built a stable on the land the couple had previously acquired and boarded horses; she also kept her own string of horses for guests at the Desert Inn. She expanded her own compound to include a nine-room structure – a cottage acquired and moved from LA after the 1932 Olympics – and a small casita now called Harriet’s Cottage. Casa Cody soon became a favorite among visitors like Charlie Chaplin who wanted more discreet accommodations than the larger hotels could offer.
It’s a small miracle that the two-acre compound has survived – and thrived – to this day. After Harriet died in 1954, Casa Cody had its ups and downs with various owners. Still, it has been well-cared for in the last few years and it retained a charm and feel that instantly transports visitors and guests to a bygone era of Palm Springs. It is the oldest continuously operating hotel in Palm Springs.
Zaddie Bunker
Some of the great things about small isolated villages are the eccentrics they attract. There was Peter Pester, the original “Nature Boy” of Palm Springs; artist Carl Eytel; and prospector Dutch Frank. But, none of them could hold a candle to Zaddie Bunker. She arrived in Palm Springs in 1914 with her husband, Ed, and daughter, Frances. At a time when horses and burros outnumbered cars in the nascent community, they came up with a visionary scheme to become the village’s auto mechanics. They accomplished this by reading how-to pamphlets and constructing a garage in the center of town.
Part of their business was running their car out to meet the train when it stopped at what was then known as Seven Palms, a bit east of present North Palm Springs. In fact, Bunker became one of the first women in California who was issued a chauffeur’s license. She had other grand plans, too, of becoming one of the elite group of female hoteliers in the new town. Mr. Bunker’s ambitions (if he had any) lay in other directions, and he was soon on his way out of town, leaving Bunker, her daughter, and her sisters to develop their own little business empire. Like her sister innkeepers in town, Bunker employed savvy, grit, and hard work and eventually became a wealthy member of the community.
However, as Bunker approached her 60th birthday, she decided she needed a new challenge. She began taking flight lessons in San Bernardino; three years later, she earned a multi-engine rating. She made her first solo flight at age 66 and at age 73, she underwent and passed the physical for U.S. Air Force pilots and was made an honorary Air Force colonel. She continued flying well into her 80s and applied to be part of the Apollo mission to the moon. She wasn’t accepted, and it was probably one of the only things she went after that she didn’t succeed at. A girl’s got to dream.
