Page 8 | Bohemian | Sonoma & Napa Counties

Living History, Larry Carrillo of ‘Save the Carrillo Adobe’

Mar 17, 2026

Living History, Larry Carrillo of ‘Save the Carrillo Adobe’

The rain was hard. The mud was thick and glutinous. It was adobe. Notwithstanding the stout rain shelter built over the ruin by Larry Carrillo and “The Friends of the Carrillo Adobe,” the house of Maria Carrillo was little by little washing away.

That main house is the last house standing of what was once the Carrillo Rancho, granted by Gen. Vallejo, military governor of Mexican California in 1837. Mark that year. Count forward to 1849 (The Gold Rush) and 1850 (statehood). Mexican California had another 13 years left in its existence.

Maria Carrillo was Gen. Vallejo’s mother-in-law. History was intimate then. The names that became our place names (like Carrillo and Vallejo, Finch and Dutton) knew each other well, and their relationships and their mistakes largely determined our present. For Larry Carrillo, this history is family history.

The Maria Carrillo Rancho once covered most of Santa Rosa as one vast property. Its ranch buildings once covered most of the 14 acre property now fenced off at 2323 Montgomery Dr. Their stone foundations extend far out into the planned high density housing development proposed by Swenson Builders (of San Jose).

That housing development would also cover the ruins of a Southern Pomo settlement (that of course predates the Mexican rancho). The site is thought to have been a seasonal settlement used by the Indigenous in part to mine obsidian for cutting tools in the Santa Rosa creek—not a hundred yards from the future adobe.

There may be Southern Pomo graves there. It’s uncertain. The preliminary archeological survey of the development site is incomplete. In another complicated intersection of local Indigenous and Mexican history, the adobe is not half a mile from the creek site where an Indigenous woman was baptized Rosa after Catholic Saint Rosa de Lima—giving name to her, the creek and the town of which the ranch was just the beginning.

Thus, the fenced and neglected property, consisting of ruined adobe, flattened Pomo village and messy Catholic orchard, is where Santa Rosa had its messy genesis. Surely then, it will be preserved as a hallowed place?

In a right world, yes. While the main house and about 20 feet surrounding it is a registered historic landmark, it sits on private land. That property was sold away by the Catholic Diocese of Santa Rosa to Swenson Builders around 2000 to pay diocese debts and settle early claims of child sexual abuse.

Swenson originally proposed a 265-unit apartment in 2004. This plan was scuttled, presumably by the housing/banking crash of 2008. A new proposal, submitted late last year, now proposes 162 units, which surround the ruined adobe on three sides (one may review the plans and process at srcity.org/4279/Creekside-Village-Townhomes).

A neighborhood meeting, organized by The City, was held Dec. 15. The venue had to be changed to accommodate all the angry comment by neighbors, historians, Pomos and latter-day Carrillos. As a strict vote, this project would not go forward. But it is private land, and The City is under great pressure to meet a state-mandated housing quota.

This is all a strange echo of the past. Indigenous California trampled and Mexican California pushed to the ruined margins in a sudden rush of new settlers. Have we learned from the past? Will history repeat itself? And will Santa Rosa, a large town with little pride, take itself seriously enough to preserve its birthplace?

Learn more: This is history in progress. Larry Carrillo of ‘Save the Carrillo Adobe’ can be reached at lj********@*sn.com. Project updates can be received from the city website.

Scene: the 29th Annual Sonoma International Film Fest

Weeklys Staff

Mar 17, 2026

Scene: the 29th Annual Sonoma International Film Fest

Every spring, a curious transformation overtakes the otherwise tranquil wine country burg of Sonoma.

Restaurants buzz, wine flows, and the sidewalks suddenly teem with showbiz people. In short, the Sonoma International Film Festival makes its welcome return.

Now in its 29th year, the festival, running March 25–29, has grown into one of the North Bay’s most cosmopolitan events: five days of cinema drawn from around the world, served with the region’s customary side of award-winning wine and culinary offerings. This year’s program features 104 films from 37 countries, including 41 narrative features, 16 documentaries and 47 shorts.

For festival artistic director Carl Spence, assembling the program is less a sprint than a year-long pilgrimage through the global film circuit.

“We really are collecting films throughout the year,” Spence explained to Bohemian editor Daedalus Howell during a recent interview. “The start of the film search starts at the Cannes Film Festival… There’s some films from Sundance, from Venice … and some that have won top awards at festivals like San Sebastián and Venice.”

The result is something like a curated highlight reel of the international festival season—films that have generated buzz elsewhere but haven’t yet reached Bay Area audiences en masse. As Spence sees it, the Sonoma fest functions partly as a cinematic import operation.

“We’ve assembled the finest films we discovered throughout the year, including exceptional works that deserve a larger spotlight, alongside in-person conversations with visionary filmmakers,” Spence said in announcing the lineup.

Among the biggest draws this year is an appearance by artist-turned-filmmaker Julian Schnabel, who will present his latest feature, In the Hand of Dante. The film arrives with a cast that reads less like a credits list and more like a guest list at an Oscars after-party: Oscar Isaac, Gal Gadot, Gerard Butler, John Malkovich, Al Pacino, Jason Momoa and even Martin Scorsese in a cameo role.

Schnabel, of course, occupies a singular place in contemporary culture. Known first as a painter associated with the Neo-Expressionist movement, he later pivoted into filmmaking with Basquiat and the haunting The Diving Bell and the Butterfly. At Sonoma, the screening will be paired with an extended career conversation moderated by Sundance Film Festival director Eugene Hernandez.

“He’s an artist, but he’s also a well-known filmmaker,” Spence said. “It’s an epic film, and he’s going to be here to present it and talk about his career.”

Through the fest, SIFF functions as an immersive festival ecosystem built around a peculiar wine country cadence: See a film, drink something local, see another film.

Within walking distance of Sonoma’s historic square, the festival constructs a temporary cinema village, transforming venues into fully equipped screening rooms with state-of-the-art projection and sound.

“We build out cinemas… There’s five great cinemas right here off the square,” Spence said. “You can walk to all of it as well as all the great restaurants and wine tasting rooms.”

Around those screens unfolds a parallel program of culinary events and parties—everything from elegant dinners to dance-floor spectacles. This year’s lineup includes the Moon and the Stars dinner at Valley Bar + Bottle, the high-energy Studio 54 Disco Party at HopMonk and the centerpiece Dolce After Dark celebration at Buena Vista Winery.

The festival’s programming also ventures into industry territory with panels exploring topics such as the new Academy Award category for casting and candid discussions with veteran filmmakers about how movies actually get made.

Still, the most practical advice Spence offers attendees is simple: Pace yourself.

“There’s films starting every day from 10 in the morning up until 8 or 9 at night,” he said. “You have to build the rhythm where you’re going to see a few films, take a break, wine up, have some food, see another film.”

In other words, don’t try to see everything. The better strategy is to construct one’s own festival agenda from the myriad offerings. That’s the real pleasure of Sonoma’s cinematic invasion: wandering between venues, restaurants and conversations, occasionally spotting a famous filmmaker in the wild.

For a listing of films, events and tickets, visit sonomafilmfest.org.

‘Glory of Art’: Metabolizing Chaos

Open Mic

Daedalus Howell

Mar 17, 2026

During the tributes to Hollywood’s recently departed at the Academy Awards ceremony, a handsome portrait and quote from Robert Redford loomed over the stage as Barbra Streisand toasted him with a few bars of “The Way We Were.” It read: “The glory of art is that it can not only survive change, it can lead it.”

It was the sort of line that might otherwise glide past in the soft-focus nostalgia of an awards ceremony, but given our particular historical moment it landed with unusual gravity. War flickers across our screens with terrible familiarity. Politics hums with the endless, exhausting static of white noise. The cultural temperature seems permanently set to “boil.”

And yet there was Redford’s quiet assertion, hanging above the stage like a small lantern in the night.

This isn’t a sentimental claim. In the long scope of wars, plagues, political upheavals and economic collapse, artists have been counted on to step forward—not necessarily with answers, but with the images, songs, stories and ideas that help the rest of us remember who we are. Art is how civilizations metabolize chaos.

When “things fall apart” (oh, Yeats), someone somewhere picks up a guitar, writes a poem or paints an image that captures a feeling that might otherwise remain inexpressible—yet somehow gives form to the idea we need precisely when we need it. Art doesn’t help us escape so much as orient us to the changed landscape of our times (both figuratively and, sadly, literally).

The arts have the peculiar ability to make courage contagious. One voice becomes two, then 10, then thousands. A film reframes a moment. A song becomes a rallying cry. A novel quietly rearranges the furniture inside someone’s mind, and they’re better for it.

None of this requires grand gestures. The myth of art is that it must be monumental to matter. Not true. Its power often resides in smaller acts: the local theater putting on a play, the street musician filling a corner with melody, the freshman auteur making a film on their phone.

Artists do not stop the storms of history. But we build the lanterns we carry through them. This is why Redford’s line reads less like a platitude than a reminder.

When the world grows uncertain, artists don’t disappear.

We get to work.

Daedalus Howell is the editor of this paper, host of ‘The Drive’ on 95.5 FM and writer-director of ‘Werewolf Serenade.’ More at dhowell.com.