The significance stems from the fact that it ties in with my recent column on the misspelling of historic names. In our case it was Saratoga pioneer Martin McCarty's name turning up in a couple of early volumes as Martin McCarthy. That situation was smoothed over by the fact that McCarty and wife actually did adopt the McCarthy spelling at a later date.

The Stephens situation wasn't that easy. Stephens was a brave and resourceful leader, and the 1994 article had to do with the naming of a Sierra peak after him. At this time 10 years ago, the California Board of Geographic Names had approved the designation of Mount Stephens and word of its acceptance by the U.S. Geological Survey had just been received. The peak is adjacent to and overlooking the pass that Stephens had helped pioneer in 1844.

So where's the local angle? Well, if that peak had been located in Santa Clara County, it would undoubtedly be called Mount Stevens. The magazine article noted that "the maps of California preserve Stephens' name only with the misspelled Stevens Creek, located in Santa Clara County." I'm sorry to say that Saratoga's revered historian, Florence Cunningham, used the Stevens spelling in her Saratoga's First Hundred Years.

The reason that his right-or-wrong name is here to begin with is that Stephens owned property around where the Blackberry Farm Golf Course is today. Stevens Creek—pardon me, Stephens Creek—is close by. The magazine article states that "several years later, feeling that the area was getting too crowded for his liking," he sold his land and moved to a ranch near the present Bakersfield. Stephens died at age 83 in 1887. That's a poignant reference to a feeling of being "too crowded" well over 100 years ago. Good thing Stephens isn't around today.

I suppose there have been incidents in which history freaks have tried to get place names changed to conform to their sources, but I can't see the practicality of trying that here. We have Stevens Creek Boulevard, a major thoroughfare; Stevens Creek County Park; and any number of businesses that include the name.

Probably anyone trying to use a "Stephens Creek Boulevard" address on their mail would arouse the interest of the U.S. Postal Service. Rest in peace, Elisha Stephens.

I took a genuinely sentimental journey this past Father's Day. It was a ride on the Billy Jones Wildcat Railroad at Los Gatos' Oak Meadow Park, through the kindness of my daughter, Anna Rainville. There were a couple of reasons for reminiscent sentimentality. One is that I will always think of Oak Meadow Park as the town sewer farm because that's what it was 55 years ago when I started my newspaper career covering the West Valley beat for the San Jose Mercury Herald.

Raw sewage was dumped into huge holding ponds, where as much as possible seeped into the ground. Chemical treatment cut down on the odor. I like to think that stories and pictures—I carried a camera then—that I produced concerning Los Gatos' and Saratoga's primitive disposal methods helped pass a bond issue for construction of Sanitation District No. 4 trunk sewer lines.

The Wildcat Railroad has special significance for me. Thanks to my daughter's arrangement with Steve Lyman, the man in charge, I got to ride in the cab of the diesel locomotive, where the engineer turned out to be a volunteer from Saratoga, Dan Williams. The original Wildcat Railroad was created by Billy Jones, a retired Southern Pacific locomotive engineer, who ran the 18-inch-gauge track around his orchard at Winchester Boulevard and Daves Avenue. The locomotive was a miniature steam engine that had run in an amusement park at Venice, Calif., and is still owned by the present railroad.

Jones opened his railroad in 1943, and he considered it a memorial to his two sons, Neal and Bob, who were killed during World War II. I knew Neal and Bob as good friends in Boy Scout Troop 39. Any memorial to them has real meaning for me.