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This story — by reporters Marisa Kendall, Jocelyn Wiener and Erica Yee — was originally published by CalMatters. Sign up for their newsletters.

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Gov. Gavin Newsom stepped up to a lectern on a March day three years ago and proposed a new solution to one of the state’s most difficult problems: How to help the thousands of Californians sleeping on the streets while suffering from severe mental illness.

After all, he said, everything the state has done before has failed. One of the state’s prior attempts — a treatment referral program called Laura’s Law – helped just 218 people during the 2018-19 fiscal year, he said.

“That certainly is not demonstrable progress,” Newsom said. His new program would be different.

But in the nearly two years since Newsom launched CARE Court, it has reached only a few hundred people. That’s barely more than the law he criticized, and certainly not the thousands he promised.

CalMatters requested CARE Court data from every county in California and conducted more than 30 interviews to compile the first detailed, statewide look at the program. Up and down California, the data show low numbers, a slow rollout and predictions that wildly outpaced reality.

The program was designed to allow family members, first responders, doctors and others to petition the courts on behalf of someone with severe psychosis who can’t take care of themselves. If the petition is accepted, that person can then agree to voluntary treatment, which can include counseling, medication, housing and more.

If they refuse, a judge can order them to participate in a treatment plan.

CalMatters received responses from all but four of the state’s 58 counties. Here’s what the data shows:

• While Newsom’s administration estimated between 7,000 and 12,000 Californians would qualify for CARE Court, just 2,421 petitions have been filed through July, according to the Judicial Council of California. Only 528 of those have resulted in treatment agreements or plans.
• San Diego County anticipated receiving 1,000 petitions in the first year and establishing court-ordered treatment plans for 250 people. But in nearly two years, the county instead has received just 384 petitions and established 134 voluntary agreements.
• Los Angeles County saw 511 petitions filed – the most in the state. Of those, 112 resulted in care agreements or plans. In 2023, officials predicted to news organizations the county could enroll 4,500 people in the first year.
• Courts across California are dismissing a significant percentage of CARE Court petitions – about 45% statewide, although that number includes the handful of cases in which someone has successfully “graduated” from the program. The rate is even higher in some counties, such as San Francisco, where nearly two-thirds of petitions are thrown out.
• The allure of CARE Court for many supporters was the promise of court-ordered treatment plans that would encourage sick people to accept the help they’d been resisting. But the courts have ordered just 14 treatment plans so far, according to the Judicial Council. Instead, most counties are solely offering voluntary treatment “agreements,” which sick people are free to ignore.
• Very few people have successfully completed CARE Court. Despite the fact that it has the most petitions, Los Angeles County has had no graduations. Nine counties have been operating CARE Court long enough to have graduations (the program takes at least a year to complete).

“It’s going much more slowly than we thought it would,” said Lisa U’Ren, a former member of the board of directors at the Solano County branch of the National Alliance on Mental Illness, who helped roll out the program in her county.

The stakes are high for Newsom, who has tied his legacy in part to big promises that he would address California’s twin problems of homelessness and inadequate mental health services. The establishment of CARE Court was followed by a 2023 law intended to make it easier for a judge to order someone into involuntary treatment. A successful 2024 ballot measure issued $6.4 billion in debt to pay for new mental health housing.

How CARE Court works

Once someone files a CARE Court petition on behalf of a person experiencing psychosis, the county investigates that person’s diagnosis and then the court determines if they are eligible for the program. If they are, they have regular meetings with a case worker, as well as regular court hearings, with the goal of agreeing to a treatment protocol called a “CARE agreement.”

If a voluntary agreement can’t be reached, the court can order the person to follow a CARE plan. After one year, the client can either complete the program and graduate, or extend for up to one more year.

State officials say CARE Court needs more time to hit the goals initially set by the Newsom administration. Already some counties are doing an “incredible job,” said Stephanie Welch, deputy secretary of behavioral health for the state Health and Human Services Agency. She pointed to Alameda County, which has racked up 125 petitions — among the most in the state – since December.

“I think this has been a complicated program to implement,” Welch said, “and that’s something that we recognize and we’ve been doing our best to support the counties to be able to expand this program.”

A spokesperson for Newsom’s office said the administration is pleased with what the program has accomplished so far.

“Thanks to the CARE Act, thousands of people are engaging in critical behavioral health treatment through stabilizing medications, community-based care, and — if needed — housing,” Elana Ross said in an emailed statement.

But disability rights organizations say the low numbers are evidence that the program was a waste of money, a reactionary political gambit by a governor with presidential aspirations. And many families who initially threw their support behind CARE Court also say it has come up short.

Anita Fisher advocated for the program when Newsom proposed it, speaking on 60 Minutes about her family’s story and meeting with the governor himself, she said. When the program was piloted in San Diego County, where she lives, she felt hopeful about its promise to treat people with serious mental illness, like her son.

“I’ve watched my son suffer too many times: jail, prison, homeless,” she said. “And I said, ‘so if this can stop that?’ I said, ‘Yes, I’m all for it.’”

But now?

“I look at it as a total failure.”

A petition could be rejected because the person doesn’t meet the narrow eligibility criteria (only people with schizophrenia and other limited psychotic disorders qualify). When the subject of a petition is homeless, outreach workers sometimes have trouble finding them on the street. Other times, the client simply refuses services – and, CARE Court has little teeth to force them to accept, even after a judge’s order.

Making more people eligible for CARE Court

A bill making its way through the Legislature could boost CARE Court numbers by making more people eligible. If Sen. Thomas Umberg’s Senate Bill 27 becomes law, people who experience psychotic symptoms as a result of bipolar disorder would qualify for the program.

The program as it stands is not broken, the senator said, it’s a “work in progress” that needs some tweaking to reach its full potential.

“To some degree, expectations were raised, some that were accurate, some that were not accurate, that this was going to be a panacea,” Umberg said. “And I never thought of it that way.”

But it’s unclear how many more people could enter into CARE Court as a result of Umberg’s bill. His office has no estimate, and other guesses vary widely. San Diego County says the bill could increase its numbers by anywhere from 3.5% to 48.1%.

Many disability rights organizations strongly oppose the bill, saying it will significantly expand an ineffective program, doing nothing to solve underlying issues of housing shortages and inadequate mental health services

“They’re not trying to fix a problem, they’re trying to deliver political optics, and that’s all this ever was,” said Lex Steppling, a founding member of All People’s Health Collective.

Eve Garrow, a senior policy analyst with the American Civil Liberties Union of Southern California, said that, “given what I consider to be the failure of CARE Court so far,” she expects Umberg’s bill is primarily an effort to increase the number of petitions.

“A court order doesn’t make resources appear out of thin air,” she said.

The jury box in a double-jury courtroom at San Diego Superior Court in downtown San Diego on Aug. 12, 2025. Jurors in these courtrooms participate in joint trials with multiple defendants. Photo by Adriana Heldiz for CalMatters

The state spent $88.3 million on CARE Court in the 2022-23 fiscal year, and $71.3 million in 2023-24, according to a Legislative Analyst’s Office analysis. With fewer than 550 people receiving services through the program so far, critics accuse CARE Court of wasting state money.

The Assembly Judiciary Committee’s July analysis of SB 27 described CARE Court as a “very expensive” way to coordinate services.

But California counties say the low numbers of CARE agreements don’t capture the entirety of the program’s impact. Even petitions that don’t lead to official agreements have afforded counties the chance to connect with and offer services to people they hadn’t previously known.

“I would say that I think the whole idea of looking at the numbers, it sort of misses the point,” said Michelle Doty Cabrera, executive director of the California Behavioral Health Directors Association. “With anything coercive, the goal is to try to engage people out of their own free will into services.”

One of CARE Court’s successes, she said, has been in spreading the word about county services to people who might need them. If those people then express interest without the need for any coercion, “that’s a success and so far that has not been quantified,” she said.

The state has attempted to quantify that elusive number: As of December, people were diverted away from CARE Court and into other county services 1,358 times, according to a recent report from the Health and Human Services Agency.

Counties administering CARE Court also said it’s one of the few state programs that funds outreach. It can require a lot of attempts before outreach workers can coax certain people into services, they said, and this provides a mechanism to pay for those efforts.

A flood of petitions that never materialized

Eight California counties rolled out CARE Court at the end of 2023, as part of a pilot group. The rest of the state had the program up and running by December 2024.

As San Diego County counted down to the launch, officials worried they would be flooded with petitions immediately, said Amber Irvine, the county’s behavioral health program coordinator.

The county hired nearly two-dozen people, including 10 clinicians, two psychologists and support staff to meet the expected demand. The money for those new positions came from county funds, not from the state.

That flood of petitions never materialized.

Irvine thinks the process of filing a petition was harder than expected. Her team thought first responders, hospitals and behavioral health workers would jump at the chance to refer people into the program. But that didn’t happen. The petitioner has to attend at least the first court hearing, which is something many overworked first responders and clinicians can’t do, Irvine said.

Police and firefighters filed petitions when the program first started, but they were often dismissed – which made the first responders reluctant to file more, said Crystal Robbins, who manages a treatment referral program for San Diego Fire-Rescue.

“We quickly found out that it wasn’t a useful tool for the people that we see,” she said.

The process also is tough for families petitioning on behalf of loved ones, Irvine said. It requires them to prove their loved one has a qualifying mental health condition, but federal privacy laws can make that a big hurdle.

The county is trying to make the process less cumbersome, Irvine said. It is letting family members and some other petitioners attend court hearings virtually, for example. And in some cases, the court is allowing petitions to move on to the next step even if they don’t have all the required paperwork.

So far, San Diego County Superior Court has received the second-largest number of petitions in the state — 384, with 35% leading to CARE agreements.

But that’s still far behind initial projections.

The slow start could be a “happy accident,” Irvine said, because the low case load allows clinicians to spend more time with each CARE Court client.

But Anita Fisher isn’t the only family member who feels discouraged about the program’s roll out in San Diego.

Tanya Fedak said she has twice filed petitions in the county on behalf of her son, who continues to cycle between homelessness and jail despite being accepted into CARE Court.

“These are our loved ones,” she said. “It’s our taxpayers’ money. There’s no accountability. And it’s frustrating to see it go down, because my son is going to end up dead.”

Orange County, which was part of the initial CARE Court cohort, expected to receive 1,400 petitions and establish between 400 and 600 treatment plans its first year. Two years later, it has received at least 176 petitions , reached 14 CARE agreements and ordered one CARE plan, according to the county’s behavioral health department. That doesn’t include additional petitions that could have been dismissed by the court before reaching the county.

Orange County was the only superior court in the state with a significant number of petitions that did not disclose its data to CalMatters.

Veronica Kelley, director of the Orange County Health Care Agency, said she never expected to reach as many people as the original estimate. She attributed that in part to the county already reaching many people with schizophrenia spectrum disorder through its existing assisted outpatient treatment program (the program created by the law Newsom criticized at the 2023 press conference), which provides similar services to CARE Court.

Kelley believes expanding the older program would have been a better use of the resources now going to CARE Court. In part, she said, that’s because Orange County’s assisted outpatient program makes it easy for people to ask the county for help, whereas filing a CARE petition is “a laborious process” that requires significant work from the petitioner.

Other people blame the low CARE Court numbers on a lack of awareness.

After CARE Court rolled out in Solano County, the local branch of the National Alliance on Mental Illness hosted town halls to teach the community about the program. An in-person town hall drew about 10 people, said NAMI Solano County Executive Director Deb Demello. Two Zoom meetings drew about four people each. And they didn’t see people from the main group they were trying to reach: family members of people with a severe mental illness.

“We had very little turn out,” Demello said.

CARE Court use varies widely county by county, with some smaller counties appearing to struggle with the resources to implement the program. Colusa County, with a population of fewer than 22,000 people on the edge of the Mendocino National Forest, told the state last year that its courts weren’t prioritizing CARE Court because of court vacancies. The county has received just one petition.

Eight small counties, including Mendocino and San Benito, said they’ve had no petitions filed.

Some county courts refused to disclose their data to CalMatters because the numbers were too small, citing the California Rules of Court, which allow courts to withhold data if the sample size is so small that people could be identified.

Courts are required to report limited CARE Court data to the California Judicial Council, including the number of petitions submitted, number of agreements and plans, and number of dismissals. But the council would give only statewide totals to CalMatters, not a county-by-county breakdown.

Will expanding CARE Court help more people?

Even if someone becomes one of the few Californians represented in a CARE Court petition, it doesn’t mean they’ll get help.

In San Francisco, the majority of petitions filed end up getting dismissed – 49 of the 75 – or 65% – of those filed. That’s one of the highest dismissal rates in the state.

Some counties, including San Francisco, told CalMatters that people may still receive services even if their CARE Court petition is dismissed. But a state report released in July found that of the 160 people whose petitions were dismissed during the first nine months of CARE Court, 90 did not receive county behavioral health services.

Of the 130 petitions dismissed in Los Angeles County between December 2023 and February of this year, 43 were dismissed because the person was already receiving “adequate mental health services,” according to a report by the county’s department of mental health. It’s the most common reason for a dismissal in that county.

State Sen. Tom Umberg in the Senate chambers of the state Capitol on Dec. 5, 2022. Photo by Martin do Nascimento, CalMatters

Umberg wants to address that with his bill. Currently, someone can’t qualify for CARE Court if they are already “clinically stabilized” in another treatment program. Umberg’s bill would clarify that just being enrolled in an outside treatment program doesn’t mean someone is stable. He hopes that will cut down on the number of people whose petitions are dismissed even though their mental illness is not under control.

His bill would also make it easier for the criminal justice system to funnel people into CARE Court, by allowing a judge to refer someone directly into the program if they are charged with a misdemeanor and deemed incompetent to stand trial.

Irvine, San Diego County’s behavioral health program coordinator, is not thrilled about Umberg’s plan to expand CARE Court. The California Behavioral Health Directors Association also opposes the bill.

Irvine takes pride in the amount of time and energy her staff put into each CARE Court client. She says they spend weeks or even months getting to know them, bringing them their favorite foods, and helping with minor tasks, such as getting a new phone, before finally convincing them to participate in the program. In at least one case, that process took as long as five months, she said.

By some accounts, San Diego County’s approach is working. It has had 10 graduations so far, the most of any county that reported that metric to CalMatters.

Adding a lot more people into the program would give clinicians less time to spend with each client, Irvine said. And Umberg’s bill doesn’t come with money to hire more staff.

About the data

The county data in this story is based on public record requests to California county courts and behavioral health departments about CARE Court usage. See full methodology and download the data.

Lesley Ann Larson was born November 21, 1950 to Nan and Lloyd Larson and passed away June 21, 2025 in the presence of family.

Lesley had an adventurous spirit and enjoyed traveling. As a child she traveled cross country seeing the sights with her family and gathering many stories that she told and retold for years. She enjoyed a good road trip and took many others throughout her life with family and friends. Lesley also enjoyed the great outdoors: picnicking, camping, hiking, fishing and spending time at our local rivers and beaches. She often would come back with a few special rocks or shells to add to her collection.

Lesley never met an animal she didn’t like. She treated pets like family and often had wildlife wander into her yard as they seemed to consider it a safe space. It would make life interesting if the visitor left behind a “strong odor” or made a mess of her garbage; however, she just added these experiences to her list of stories to tell.

Lesley enjoyed spending time with people and caring for others. When her pursuit of a nursing career was interrupted by a personal injury, she spent time caring for others, including family as the need arose. She also explored her artistic talents and interests by volunteering at the local jazz festivals and taking classes in stained glass creations. She made several original works and was even commissioned to create a few custom pieces. Lesley was especially proud of the window she created for Cher-Ae Heights Casino.

Of Lesley’s many talents, probably the most prominent was her gift of gab. She loved spending time with others, meeting new people and telling stories of her life’s adventures. Instead of saying good-bye, she would part ways with a “See you later alligator” or “after a while crocodile,” and for loved ones, “Love you more!” Lesley was a big personality and will be missed.

Lesley is preceded in death by her parents, grandparents, brother-in-law, and many aunts and uncles. She is survived by her siblings Arlene Schneider, Keith (Kathy) Larson, and Lane (LeighAnn) Larson. She is also survived by many nieces and nephews: Michele Schneider, Heather (Jason) Beam and family, Lynde (Mark) Windbigler and family, Matthew (Libby) Larson, Hannah Larson, Isaac (Stacie) Larson and family, Ben (May) Larson and family, Joshua Larson, Ethan (Melissa) Larson and family.

Friends and family are invited to celebrate Lesley’s life in the Ocean View Mausoleum at Ocean View Cemetery on Saturday September 20, 2025 at 2 p.m.

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Press release from the Humboldt County Sheriff’s Office:

On August 31, 2025, at approximately 1:50 a.m., deputies from the Humboldt County Sheriff’s Office (HCSO) responded to a report of shots fired at a residence in the 300 block of Big Hill Road, Hoopa. Upon arrival, deputies determined that an altercation involving multiple residents had occurred. The investigation revealed that Joshua Sky Teal, 46, allegedly discharged several rounds from a rifle into the air. Teal, who is on active felony probation with search and seizure conditions, was detained at the scene.

A subsequent search of Teal’s residence resulted in the recovery of a .22 caliber rifle equipped with a high-capacity magazine and an illegal suppressor. Teal was arrested and booked into the Humboldt County Correctional Facility on the following charges:

• PC 29800(a)(1): Felon in possession of a firearm
• PC 30305(a)(1): Felon in possession of ammunition
• PC 33410: Possession of a suppressor
• PC 246.3(a): Negligent discharge of a firearm
• PC 1203.2(a): Violation of probation

Anyone with information about this case can call the Humboldt County Sheriff’s Office at (707) 445- 7251 or the Sheriff’s Office Crime Tip line at (707) 268-2539.

James “Dan” Ford
April 8, 1937 – August 21, 2025

James “Dan” Ford was born on April 8, 1937, in Caddo County, Oklahoma, to Arnold and Ida Ford. He was the eldest of three brothers, followed by Frank and Jim.

Dan moved to Carmel Valley in the third grade and later settled in Porterville, where he spent his school years from sixth grade through high school. In 1960, he moved to Trona, California, where he began his pipe fitting apprenticeship. In 1966, he relocated to Humboldt County to work at the local pulp mill, where he dedicated 35 years of hard work before retiring.

Dan married his first wife, Mary, in 1958. Together they raised three children: Doug Ford married to Emma, Arnie Ford, and Letty Frakes.

On June 15, 1974, Dan married Charlotte, his loving wife of over 51 years, and her children Mike Fridley married to Monika, and Tawnie Hansen married to Rob. When they joined their lives, Dan bravely helped raise them as his own. Together, they built a strong and loving blended family and shared a life full of laughter, adventure, and resilience.

Later in life, Dan was the proud “Papa” to his eleven grandchildren (and many great grandchildren) Jeremy Ford, Andrea Scharffer, Arnie Ford, Jeff Ford, Nathan Frakes, Marianne Frakes, Sarah Grow-Frakes, Alex Fridley, Logan Osser, Miranda Walstrom, and Logan Hansen. Despite being a tough, strong man, his grandchildren always found a way to his soft side; he adored them dearly.

Dan had a passion for the outdoors — he loved fishing, hunting, and anything that danced on the edge of the rules. Many of his favorite memories were centered around his summer vacations to fish at Aikens Creek or hunting trips to Montana, Idaho, and Kettenpom. He loved his weekly trips to the Moose Lodge to visit with his friends. He was a man of many talents. He always had a creative and original solution to any problem and could accomplish more than most with a can of WD-40, duct tape, and a beer. Every time he spoke, it was going to be exactly what he was thinking without mincing words. Because of that, he will always be remembered by many for his one-line phrases or “Papaisms.”

He passed away peacefully at home on August 21, 2025, surrounded by his loving family. He leaves behind a legacy of a strong and loving man who cannot be replaced. We all love you Papa!

In lieu of a service, at his wishes, there will be a private family ceremony to spread his ashes.

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Government often moves slow. This is a problem when there are immediate safety concerns for a street. The solution: Quick-build projects, which employ cheap and quick materials, like paint or plastic bollards. You may have seen this strategy in action, with new crosswalks and other improvements coming to local streets. Colin Fiske of the Coalition for Transportation Priorities joins the show to talk about quick-build projects and ways we can help identify other roads that need a tune-up.

RESOURCES:

• Quick-Build Toolkit
• Street Story

Cement was used by man when he first started to build. The Assyrians and Babylonians used a clay for cement. The Egyptians used lime and gypsum cement in the building of the pyramids in 2500 B.C. The Greeks made further improvements in cement and the Romans perfected a hydraulic cement, called pozzolana, in their buildings and roads, using a mixture of slacked lime and volcanic ash from Mt. Vesuvius.

The use of cement is not new, but improvements have been made in this country with the discovery of a stone in Madison County, N.Y., which resembled a stone found on the Isle of Portland. In 1824 Joseph Aspdin patented a hydraulic cement made from this stone, hence the name “Portland cement.”

The builders in Eureka and Humboldt County have been using concrete since the first settlers arrived. All they waited for was the cement which was shipped in by ships (there has always been plenty of good sand, gravel and water locally).

For many years before the 1920s, gravel and sand were hauled by horses and wagons from the mouth of Elk River, where the gravel was shoveled on to the wagons by hand; these wagons held a cubic yard. A cubic yard of gravel weighs over 3,000 pounds, which was a heavy load for a team of horses to pull. These wagons were heavy, the bottom of the box was formed of 12 2x4s, making it 3 feet wide and about 12 feet long. These 2x4s had rounded handles formed on the back end, and side boards built out of 2x12s. The end boards were 9 feet apart, allowing the wagon to hold 27 cubic feet.

When the loaded wagon arrived at the job site, the side boards were pried off, some gravel would fall, then each 2x4 would be turned by hand, dumping the gravel on the ground. The side boards would then be replaced and the team would head back for another load. There is one of these gravel wagons at the Ferndale Museum, though not in very good shape.

As I recall, two of the early teamsters who hauled gravel to the Eureka job sites were the McLaughlin brothers, Ben and John, founders of the Eureka Sand and Gravel Company.

Concrete was mixed by hand using a mortar box and shovels. Usually two men were involved in the process, one each side of a box about 6 to 8 feet long, 4 feet wide and with sides 8 inches high. This box would first be placed along side of the gravel pile. Each man would then throw in so many shovels of gravel and then so many shovels of cement (the amount of cement depended on how “rich” the mix was to be). The mixture would then be shoveled from one end of to the other and turned over several times until it was thoroughly mixed. Some water would then be poured on and again it would be turned over until at last it was concrete.

This mixture would be shoveled into wheelbarrows, wheeled to and then dumped into forms or into a specific place such as a floor or sidewalk. Next would come the job of finishing with wooden floats and trowels. If the project was a floor or sidewalk, the base would be poured first; this would be kept about 1/2-inch low when it was screeded off. Then a mixture of sand and cement was poured on top. This was then finished to a nice smooth surface and, if it was a sidewalk, was marked off in squares.

Some times the base was left until the following day, when the topping would be applied. In case of rain or a freeze, this had to be covered to protect it until it was set up. And then of course there were always people who wanted to scratch their name or initials in the new on surface. Though humorous to the “artist,” the next day it would be a job to get the scratches out. Once in a while someone would walk right down the middle of newly poured concrete, which would take a lot of work to fix.

Some of the old-time cement contractors marked their cement work with their names by using a brass casting. These were usually a half circle about 12 inches in diameter. Most of these men are gone now but their names are still stamped in various places around Eureka, especially on old concrete sidewalks.

Many of these old concrete sidewalks are still in use today though some are disintegrating as the salt content from the Humboldt Bay water causes the concrete to lose its strength.

In the early days when there was plenty of good redwood lumber available. Most of the sidewalks in the city of Eureka were made of 2-inch redwood planks. In the downtown area the sidewalks were 12-feet wide with planks running crosswise. In the outlying districts the walks consisted of two or three, 2x12 planks running lengthwise. The last remaining plank sidewalk in Eureka was torn up this year but one can see what they looked like by referring to old photos of the downtown area.

Some of the early cement contractors were: Worswick and Paine, Englehart Construction Co., Mercer Fraser Co., E. Morganti, Eureka Paving Co., Al Hill, Winston Olander, Jim Hubbard, Herb Langdon and Al Pearl. The later contractors included Walter Chase and O.E. Lombardi.

Kerosene red lanterns (left) and kerosene flares or torches were used to mark piles of gravel.

If a pile of gravel was to be left out on the street overnight, red coal oil lanterns would be lit and put on top to keep someone from running into it. Once in a while someone would steal these lanterns or break them. So, in later days, they were replaced with coal oil torches. The torches looked a little like bombs. They were black and measured 10 inches in diameter. These were not stolen as often as no one had use for them. Both lanterns and torches had to be refilled with kerosene and lit every night.

In the 1920s Portland cement came in burlap bags shaped like gunnysacks; the bags were later made of heavy cloth. When empty, these bags were hauled back to the dealer who gave credit for them. The dealers had large cylinder screens about 6 feet in diameter which revolved. The empty sacks were put in this screen and revolved for 10 minutes, shaking the last remaining cement out. This loose cement was scooped up and sold by the pound to the public. The cleaned bags were tied in bundles, tagged, then shipped back to the cement factory for credit. One such sack screen was located next to the Nelson Steamship Company Warehouse at the foot of C Street (cement often came in on Nelson ships). I recall handling many of these cement sacks at this place.

In the late 1930s cement came out in paper sacks. A sack of Portland cement contains 1 cubic foot and weighs 94 pounds. Those old cloth sacks of cement were very hard to handle, and I recall having had very sore fingers from this work. You couldn’t wear gloves and the abrasive sack would wear the skin off our fingers.

My first contact with concrete mixing occurred while attending Eureka High School during its woodworking class. J.E. Doren, the teacher, required the students who had taken his class for two years to mix concrete and pour it into forms for concrete posts. Those students who worked at this had their initials and the date they were to graduate impressed into a post. After the posts were removed, the forms were cleaned and oiled, ready for another batch. These posts were about 7 feet long and 5 inches square with beveled corners. They were installed all around the old high school grounds. Mine was installed right on the J Street side, with “G N N 28” on it.

In 1927 I was fortunate enough to be hired as apprentice carpenter by Halsby and Lax Contractors to work on the building of a large water tank located on the northeast corner of Harris and E streets in Eureka. Part of my job was to help with the concrete pouring. Al Hill, who held the contract to pour the concrete, had an old concrete mixer consisting of a wooden barrel on a four, iron- wheel trailer. This barrel was turned by a one-cylinder gasoline engine with a chain drive which was a lot better than mixing by hand. The wheelbarrows also had iron wheels, which were tricky and hard to handle. One had better not run off the plank with them or one would lose the load of concrete.

I remember back to 1928 when John Halsby, contractor, was awarded the job to install a cyclone fence around the deer and elk pen at the Sequoia Park — the first cyclone fence ever installed in this area. The iron posts had to be set in concrete and a low concrete base had to be poured all the way around this pen, several hundred feet long. Another young man, Allan Moe, and myself were apprentice carpenters working for Halsby at this time. Halsby had us build a mortar box on a sled about 10 feet long, with a chain fastened to the front. Halsby then hired a team of horses to pull this sled around to the gravel piles by hand in this sled, then it was pulled around the fence forms and shoveled in. Part of this fence still remains as a monument to our hard work.

During 1926 the Englehart Paving Company had a contract to pave Seventh Street and Henderson Street with concrete, two of the finest street pavement projects in Eureka to this day. Englehart had a concrete mixer plant at the foot of K Street which processed the gravel and cement delivered by railroad. The company had several Model T Ford dump trucks which hauled about one yard of concrete each to the job. The box on the back had to be cranked up by hand in order to dump the concrete. The mixture was then spread by hand and screeded off with a long plank tilted on its edge and with plow handles on each end. The concrete was then tamped to form a good surface. These streets are still there today though covered with asphalt.

One of the early, very large jobs of concrete pouring was the Fernbridge in 1910. A concrete batching plant was first set up, complete with large concrete mixer. The concrete was wheeled out on the bridge by men pushing iron, two-wheel concrete carts. Thousands of yards of concrete were poured and still stand today.

Many concrete buildings in Eureka were built pouring concrete with the use of old concrete mixers and wheelbarrows. Building projects included the Eureka Auditorium, the Veterans Memorial Building, the Montgomery Ward Building (which is now the U.S. Bank on Fourth and F streets) and many other smaller buildings.

In the late 1930s concrete mixer trucks came into use; this revolutionized concrete mixing and pouring, and made the job much easier. Gasoline-powered concrete buggies, power trowels and electric vibrators also came onto the concrete scene.

Today concrete is hauled to the job sites by giant mixer trucks hauling 12 yards or more of ready-mixed concrete. Mixed according to specifications, it is pumped by concrete pumps into forms and floors,vibrated with electric or gasoline powered machines, then finished with power troweling machines. Concrete work has become much easier and faster. I personally don’t think the concrete is any better, but a lot less sweat goes into it.

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The story above was originally printed in the March-April 1993 issue of the Humboldt Historian, a journal of the Humboldt County Historical Society. It is reprinted here with permission. The Humboldt County Historical Society is a nonprofit organization devoted to archiving, preserving and sharing Humboldt County’s rich history. You can become a member and receive a year’s worth of new issues of The Humboldt Historian at this link.

It is with profound sadness that we announce the passing of Harold George “Joe” Thompson. Joe was a man of many names and roles: husband, dad, papa, father mole, brother, uncle, neighbor, friend, peace officer and Knight of Columbus. 

Joe’s story began in Massachusetts in 1941, during a time of great upheaval. Not long after his birth, Joe’s father, Harold Sr., was deployed overseas during World War II, leaving behind his wife Polly and their young son, Joe. With Harold away, Polly and Joe moved in with her parents James and Anna Dawson — a decision that would profoundly shape Joe’s life.

James and Anna became more than grandparents to Joe; they were his “dad and ma,” his anchors in a world of uncertainty. Anna, though blind, was a remarkable force of creativity and warmth. She crafted beautiful dolls, played the guitar, sang songs, and wove enchanting stories that captured Joe’s imagination. James, with his gentle spirit and steadfast love, became a guiding light in Joe’s formative years. Together with Polly, they created a nurturing and deeply connected environment that became Joe’s entire world.

When Harold returned from the war, he carried the invisible wounds of trauma and PTSD. Life changed again for the family when Harold moved Joe and Polly to Pittsfield where they lived in a big house they shared with Harold’s father Charles Thompson and many of his other relatives. In 1952, they drove with the family dog and cat in a 1938 Plymouth across the country to Chula Vista, Calif. Two years later, they settled in a tiny house on Creelman Lane in Ramona, Calif. The love and lessons Joe had absorbed during those early years with Anna, James, and Polly remained with him, shaping the kind-hearted and empathetic man he would become.

Those formative years instilled in Joe an extraordinary instinct and ability to connect with others — a quality that defined him throughout his life. His deep compassion and presence made him not only a joy to be around but also an exceptional peace officer. Whether he was helping people through mental health crises or navigating high-stress emergency situations, Joe’s ability to bring calm and understanding was a testament to the enduring influence of the love he received as a child.

Growing up in Ramona, Joe made lifelong friendships and lived through adventures that made headlines in the local paper. In the late ’50s, the Ramona Sentinel ran an article with the headline “Sonic Boom Frightens Santa Maria Valley Chickens.” That boom was dynamite. Joe, Bill Bowers and Frankie Groggins, friends from Creelman Lane, found 13 sticks of dynamite. They placed the bundle of dynamite under a boulder, added a blasting cap and primer cord, then ignited the dynamite with Joe’s Blue Diamond matchstick. The only damage was the boulder shooting up in the air and then landing and splitting in half. None of the boys were injured. He wrote to the paper 57 years later, confessing, stating that God protects idiots and children.

As a young teenager, Joe had a date with destiny. He was working at a local chicken ranch, collecting eggs to earn money for his first car. One day while hitchhiking to work, a man named Bernard Clauser pulled over to give him a ride. “Hop on in,” Bernie said. Joe looked in the car and saw six kids all piled on top of each other. “Sir, I don’t think you have room,” Joe said. “Of course we do,” replied Bernie. “In fact, we are on our way to pick up one more!” The family was on their way to pick up Mary Clauser, his wife, and new baby, Kathy Clauser. 

An only child, Joe had always wanted siblings, and he immediately felt welcomed by the Clauser clan. Joe climbed in, found a seat next to a pretty young lady named Betty Jean Clauser (who already had her eye on Joe, having seen him in Algebra class), and all the kids chatted excitedly as they were looking forward to meeting their new baby sister. Joe told Bernie to drop him off at the edge of the farm property, but Bernie drove out of his way, taking Joe all the way onto the farm. Joe used to say that Bernie altered time and space that day. Joe and Betty became high school sweethearts, and were married in 1962.  Bernie was another example of a kind, loving father, who was an important influence in Joe’s life.

Joe attended Ramona High, where he ran track, played football and basketball, and graduated in 1960. The Ramona High Bulldogs were CIF champs in 1959, with the Ramona Bulldogs holding a 23-game winning streak from ’59-’60. Joe was so excited when Ramona High repeated history 57 years later, attending a winning game with brother-in-law and fellow Bulldog Ed Keyser. 

After Joe and Betty married, Joe held several jobs as the young couple started their family. As their family grew with the birth of Joe Jr. in 1963, then the birth of Theresa in 1964, Joe held several physically demanding jobs at once working as a milkman, a loader for Royal Crown Cola, and gas station attendant to make ends meet and pay their $100 a month mortgage. However, his situation improved in 1966 when he was hired as a forest fire truck driver by the California Division of Forestry, and the family moved to the Salton Sea.  They later moved to Beaumont when he was promoted to the new position of Corpsman Advisor at Oak Glen Conservation Camp. Joe then applied to the California Highway Patrol and completed the CHP Academy in 1968. That same year, they welcomed their third child, Cheryl. 

Joe’s great influence during this period was that of neighbors Bob and Marian Bruce, who became very close friends, and were like grandparents to Joe and Betty’s children. Bob was a kind and honest man who at that time was in his 70s, having been born in San Diego in 1894. Bob had a career as a Los Angeles Police Officer from 1924 to approximately 1950 and then served as Beaumont’s Chief of Police from about 1952 to 1962. Bob encouraged Joe to seek his career in law enforcement and to become civically active. Around 1970, Joe joined the Beaumont Library Board, where he served with Bob and others until around 1980. 

In 1972, after the birth of their fourth child Meri, the family moved a short distance to a larger home in Cherry Valley, where Joe started a hobby farm where he kept bees, raised chickens, ducks and pigs, and planted a cherry orchard.

Joe had so many stories to tell, working the beat in the high desert of Southern California. He was an exemplary officer, who did not have one citizen complaint in more than 27 years on the job. For many years he gave presentations about the CHP and driver’s safety to the local high schools and was awarded Officer of the Year for his dedication to public service and for presenting an exemplary image for the CHP. 

If you were pulled over, Joe was the cop you would hope for. Once he pulled over a woman whose car was smoking and falling apart.  As he approached the driver’s side door, he saw her make the sign of the cross. He immediately returned to his patrol car and drove away. The woman sat in her car, appearing stunned. She undoubtedly had her own story to tell about the day she prayed a cop away.

After years of dedicated service at the Banning CHP Office, Joe was presented with an opportunity – a transfer to Humboldt County. With his signature foresight and unwavering care for his loved ones, Joe and Betty made the bold decision to relocate the family north, a move that would prove to be transformative for the family.

Humboldt County became the perfect place for the Thompson kids to thrive and carve out their futures. All four children pursued higher education at Humboldt State University, each excelling in their chosen fields and walking away with degrees that reflected individual passions and talents. Joe Jr. embraced his love for the outdoors, earning a degree in Wildlife Management; Theresa found her passion for educating children and obtained her degree in Education; Cheryl pursued a degree and career in Nursing, driven by her compassion for others; and Meri channeled her creativity and curiosity and earned a degree in Journalism. 

The decision to transfer to Humboldt wasn’t just a geographical shift, it was a gift of opportunity and possibility, the foundation upon which we were able to build our lives. It was, without question, one of the wisest and most impactful choices Joe and Betty made for our family, shaping not only our careers but our futures in ways we did not imagine or understand at the time. 

Joe and Betty purchased an A-Frame home in Eureka, with five acres of Redwoods, a creek, and the most amazing neighbors. Transitioning from the heat and blazing sun of the desert to the serene beauty of Humboldt County was an easy one. When the family would return to Southern California, emerging from gray, foggy weather to the bright sun of the desert, they began referring to themselves as “moles.”

Joe (Father Mole) was a reliable, trustworthy, and non-judgmental dad, and that was a gift that not many children have. As a father, grandfather and great-grandfather, Joe encouraged knowledge, creativity and curiosity. When his birthday, Christmas, or Father’s Day rolled around and we would ask what he wanted, he would just say, “Make it or find it.” 

Joe and Betty always had an open-door policy welcoming their children’s friends, coworkers, and special people they met.  This is how the Thompson kids got their bonus siblings, Dawn Peshka and Adam Jager.  

Joe was a man who provided unwavering support, always providing a word of encouragement when you needed it; and sage advice when you may not have been ready or willing to hear it. Difficult words were delivered with kindness and love. Joe was always there for his friends and family. Joe was the guy who showed up. Need work on the old Craftsman or Victorian you bought? Call Joe. Broke down in that old Ford/Volvo/VW/Rambler/Comet? Call Joe. Broke down again? Call Joe. Moving? Call Joe. Moving again? Call Joe. Joe always said you can measure the strength of a friendship by who shows up to help you move your furniture.  Random stray animals that needed rehabbing or a new home often came home with Joe: cats, trojan cats (pregnant cats), dogs, a raven, a crow, a pigeon, and the list goes on. 

If something reminded him of you, he would not hesitate to reach out and share.  Books were read and passed to another. Song lyrics or a link to a tune would randomly appear in text or email. Fictional stories were told to his kids to encourage creativity. Poems were written and gifted when least expected. However, Joe’s CHP stories were top notch gifts.

Of course, some stories were frightening tales of accidents and shootings, where we were reminded that his job was dangerous and there were very dangerous people in the world. But the stories we remember most demonstrated Joe’s funny side – stories not heard these days when people think of the Five-0. 

Cheryl recalls as a teenager driving her friends to Fieldbrook one rainy night, when she was lit up by a patrol car. Her passengers were in a panic, wondering why they were being pulled over; but Cheryl had a feeling it may be her dad. When she pulled over and rolled down the window of her ’67 Volvo, a hand reached in with a bag of fresh popcorn. Cheryl took the bag, and the cop walked away. Her friends were initially silent, then as the cop drove off, her car filled with hysterical laughter. Clueless as to what just happened, Cheryl left them wondering why a cop sporting a Pink Floyd pin pulled her over only to make a snack delivery. 

Joe wasn’t just a father – he was the heart of our family, the one who showed us what it truly meant to love deeply and care for one another. He had an uncanny ability to be there, fully present, anticipating our needs before we even realized them ourselves.

When his daughter Theresa was diagnosed with cancer and she lost her hair due to chemotherapy, Joe didn’t just offer words of comfort. Without hesitation or fanfare, he shaved his own head – a quiet, powerful action of solidarity and love. This gesture didn’t come as a surprise to any of us. This was who Joe was: a man whose actions spoke louder than words, a father whose love was boundless and unwavering. Such moments defined him. He didn’t just teach us to take care of each other; he lived it every single day. Through his presence, compassion, and his selflessness, Joe showed us what it means to truly show up for the people you love.

Not ready to slow down after retiring from the Highway Patrol, Joe reinvented himself. Trading his badge for a private investigator’s license, and launching his own business, Advantage Investigation, brought a renewed sense of purpose. Shifting from chasing suspects to uncovering truths was a natural evolution of Joe’s unwavering commitment to justice.

Joe’s remarkable character was demonstrated by the cases he chose to take on. Instead of working for high-powered clients or flashy organizations, Joe partnered with the public defender’s office, tackling cases where the stakes were often highest and the odds stacked against those he was helping. He wasn’t just an investigator, he was a seeker of truth, methodically piecing together facts to shine a light where it was most needed.

For Joe, being a PI was not just a job; it was a calling. He loved the challenge, the responsibility, and the opportunity to make a difference in people’s lives. In his eyes, truth wasn’t just something to be found, it was something to fight for. With sharp instincts, he fought tirelessly for truth. Joe dreamed of passing on his craft to a family member, but when none of the Thompson kids joined him, he found the ideal partner in Adam Jager, a retired CHP officer and bonus sibling to the Thompson kids.

Adam, lovingly nicknamed “Adam Mole,” had been like both a brother and son to Joe for more than 40 years. Their bond, rooted in decades of friendship and mutual respect, made Adam’s decision to join Joe in the PI field a natural fit. When Adam earned his own private investigator license, Joe was overjoyed – not for personal gain, but for the chance to see someone he deeply cared for thrive in a role he cherished. They shared an unbreakable bond that made them a powerful team, and watching Adam succeed became one of Joe’s proudest achievements.

Joe was a man of deep faith and was baptized in the Catholic Church in his 20s. Joe had been a CHP officer for a few years and was running late to work due to having been at church, which caused him to miss the daily briefing.  During the briefing, a fellow officer, Ambers “Sonny” Shewmaker, had picked up a case of an accident that should have been given to Joe.  Joe apologized for being late and asked if he wanted to hand the case back to him, and Sonny replied, “No, I got this one – we’ll switch back later.” Sonny worked the accident that night, then later pulled over a vehicle near Yucaipa for speeding, unaware that the vehicle was stolen. As Sonny was in his car using his radio, he was ambushed by the suspect who opened fire, killing Sonny. This event had a profound impact on Joe. 

After Joe’s death, we found a prayer card in Joe’s handwriting, listing the names of loved ones that he prayed for daily. Among the list of names: Sonny. Accompanying the prayer list were lines from the poem “Desiderata.” “You are a child of the universe, no less than the trees and stars.” 

Joe was a Knight with the Knights of Columbus, Council 1067, where he also served as Treasurer. Joe was also involved in a local book club, as he was an avid reader who enjoyed discovering and learning new things along with discussing different points of view. If there was something that Joe did not know about or understand, he approached it with respect and desire to learn. 

Joe and Betty were married for 63 years. They shared in the joy of raising four children, 10 grandchildren, and three great-grandchildren with one more on the way. Joe was so proud of his family. He delighted in their accomplishments. In the last year of his life, Joe got to meet a new great-grandchild, Jonah; attend his granddaughter Megan’s graduation (with honors) from nursing school; and attend grandson Dawson’s graduation as a Louisiana State Police Trooper. Joe proudly gifted Dawson his road-worn CHP badge.

Joe would want us all to rejoice as he has been reunited with his beloved daughter Theresa; mom Polly, and dad Harold Sr.; great grandparents Anna and James; Bernard and Mary Clauser; nephew Erinn Edens; brothers Mel Hill, Ed Keyser, Don Clauser and Bill Clauser; Frank Scolari; Bob and Marian Bruce, and other friends and loved ones who passed before him.

A mass and celebration of Joe’s life will take place on Saturday, September 6, 2025. The mass will be held at 12 PM at Sacred Heart Church in Eureka, CA, followed by a celebration of life in the hall behind the church. The gathering will continue until 5 PM. We invite all friends and loved ones to join us to honor Joe’s memory — please come to share stories, sing, raise a toast, and rejoice in the remarkable life he lived.

Our family would like to thank Adam Mole, Daughter Dawn, Fr. Bernard, Fr. O’Hara, Fr. Mike, Fr. Elisio, The Knights of Columbus, the Apron Ladies, and the amazing, caring staff at Providence - St. Joseph Hospital. The nurses on PCU, ICU, Med Surg 3, ED, O.R., aides, lift team, nutrition services, lab staff, respiratory therapists, physical therapists, pharmacy staff, physicians, and imaging services. To Megan M. who was with us when our dad crossed over: your presence and compassion lifted our spirits. To Steve on MS3 night shift: You were a rock star. You continued to give our dad dignity and respect by not only caring for his medical needs, but by addressing him as Mr. Thompson throughout your shifts. You were professional, kind, and recognized Joe Thompson was a man whom we deeply loved. You are nursing excellence. If anyone is deserving of the Daisy Award, it is you. We will always remember you and the compassion you showed our dad.

In lieu of flowers or donations, please read a book to your kids or grandkids (preferably “The Hobbit”), pay for the person behind you, take your dog for a drive with the window down, or feed a raven or crow.  

One final cop story for the road, direct from Joe’s “Volume I CHP Stories.”

“One day I was working an afternoon shift, and I came across a man and his family broken down on Hwy. 299, east of Blue Lake. The man looked like he was struggling to get by, but hard working. He had a wrench in one hand and a greasy fuel pump in the other. 

‘Fuel pump quit,’ he said. I offered to drive him into town. He said he would appreciate that but no need. He did not have any credit or any money, and he just put the last of it into his gas tank to get to Weaverville. So, I said, ‘Come on. I’ll take you to someone who might have a fuel pump.’ I drove to the Napa Auto Parts store in Arcata and bought him a fuel pump. It brought tears to his eyes. He fixed the car in about 10 minutes and went on his way. 

A few weeks later, a letter came to the CHP office. He didn’t know my name but wanted to thank the ‘officer that had a heart as big as he was tall.’

Of course I didn’t say anything. Cops have a way of needling each other. Did I want a new moniker ‘Tall Heart’? No. I preferred my nickname ‘Turbo Thompson.’

Because I was ‘slow and easy.’”

Officer Thompson - 10-10, off duty. 

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