The Evening News. November 9, 1916

33. Relics Of Father Magin Catala

In searching for dry facts of history I found a relic of Father Magin Catala. It was taken from his dead body nearly a hundred years ago by Christofo Galindo, the majordomo of Santa Clara Mission, and given to Mrs. Luisa Mesa, who lives near Mission street. Mrs. Mesa is the daughter of one Juan Sepulveda, the Spanish soldier, who for his services to the king of Spain was given the famous Pepper Tree lot where Mr. Paul Masson lives. She is 88 years old and was born in San Jose.

I found Mrs. Mesa in her kitchen preparing tomatoes and peppers for chili con carne. The bright blue binding handkerchief on her head stood out boldly against strings of flaming peppers hanging on the wall. In spite of her years Mrs. Mesa is still alert, merry and interested in life. Automobiles came to her little house. Ladies in furs and rich garments, with soft Spanish eyes, stepped out and left her jellies and preserves. Like an aged queen in exile Mrs. Mesa received their homage.

I always ask the old Spanish people about Father Magin Catala. "Did your mother know him?"

"Father Magin!" she exclaimed, "Father Magin!" She opened her bodice at the throat and took out a small black velvet bag attached by a ribbon to her neck. "This is sacred. It came from the body of Father Magin. It was given me more than sixty years ago by Mr. Galindo. I used to go to Santa Clara to nurse the sick. Mr. Galindo said he would rather have me have the relic than any one else. He gave it to me. I haven't seen it in thirty years, but it protects me from harm, it, and Father Magin, and the spirits around me."

"May I see it?" I ventured to ask. She shook her head. "I'll never look at it again, but it protected me from harm. My son was ill. This relic saved him. A friend was in jail. He wore it. He went free. I have lent it to many women at time of childbirth. None ever died.

"Perhaps it will do me good."

Long Mrs. Mesa hesitated, "Have you faith?"

"Yes."

"Very well. I'll let you see the relic."

Slowly Mrs. Mesa's trembling fingers cut open the velvet case. The relic was hidden in several cases made of silk, rusty and rotten. The last case had not decayed, it opened slowly. It was something like a grave that did not like to be disturbed. Finally came the relic, a portion of a rusty spiked armlet that Father Magin had worn. After he died these instruments of torture were found on his arms, or his legs, and on his forehead. Mrs. Mesa pressed the rusty spokes to her lips and to mine. "God sent you here. I haven't seen this in thirty years."

She even picked up the rags of silk which had held the relic.

"I must save everything that has touched this relic of Father Magin. Everything is sacred."

I asked the interpreter to tell Mrs. Mesa that I should like to have a piece of the silk which had encased Father Magin's armlet.

"I don't dare, said the timid man, but finally he reluctantly asked the favor. The request pleased Mrs. Mesa. ""Will you have faith always?" she asked.

"Yes."

"Then I'll give you three rings of Father Magin's armlet."

Tenderly she separated it. ""No harm can ever come to you now, "she said.

I pressed the spiked armlet against my hand. I felt the pain, the exaltation of self mortification. For a moment I was a saint.

Transcribed by Kitty LaFavor, for the Santa Clara Co. CAGenWeb Project. 2008