On the 439th anniversary of the Morro Bay landing, a history and an imagined retelling of the three “Luzon Indios” who arrived before America existed
On October 18, 1587, three crewmen of the Spanish galleon Nuestra Señora de Buena Esperanza —recorded as “Luzon Indios”—became the first documented Filipinos to set foot in the United States.
This moment in 1587 anchors Filipino American identity in an older universal setting, showing that Filipino presence in America began long before the United States existed, and many more years before the Philippines itself became a nation.
The three “indios” landed at Morro Bay in California, having sailed from Portuguese Macau at the height of the Manila-Acapulco Galleon Trade on a merchant ship skippered by Pedro de Unamuno. Many galleon crew members were Filipinos, often the lowest-paid and expendable workers within the Spanish colonial system. They endured arduous conditions, poor rations, and disease, yet demonstrated skill in navigating unfamiliar terrain during galleon voyages.
The Morro Bay landing also chronicled the Filipinos’ encounter with the indigenous Chumash people rooted in central and southern California coast, in the cities of Santa Barbara, San Luis Obispo, and Ventura. The Chumash had been residents of the area for some 11,000 years, according to archaeological evidence. Historical accounts point to the death of one of the three Filipinos in the hands of the Chumash warriors.
Unamuno’s account was translated into English in Henry Wagner’s Spanish Voyages into the Northwest Coast of America, published by the California Historical Society. These facts are supported by primary logs, scholarly translations, academic summaries, and public historical markers, particularly from Duke University Migration Memorials archives.
By way of celebrating the 439th anniversary of Filipinos’ arrival in the US in this year’s Filipino American History Month, a dramatic, imagined narrative of the event is presented here based on historical record. Similarly, dialogue and some details are imagined. The Filipinos were listed only as Luzon indios, so the names here are also imagined, but the setting, habitat elements, and encounter with the Chumash are grounded in recorded facts on the California coast in October 1587.
The Shore Before Dawn
The fog rolled in thick over Morro Bay, the kind that clings to your skin and makes every breath taste like salt. The massive volcanic rock—Morro Rock, though no one called it that yet—rose out of the ocean like a sleeping giant. The waves slapped against its base, steady and cold. Three Filipino men sat in the small landing boat, gripping their oars. They were unnamed in the Spanish logs, but let us imagine them: Diego, a rower from Pampanga, Basilio, a navigator’s apprentice from Cavite, and Teodorico, a carpenter from
the Ilocos coast. They spoke to each other in Tagalog as a shared language.
They had been at sea for months aboard the Nuestra Señora de Buena Esperanza, surviving storms, hunger, sickness, and the endless monotony of the Pacific. Now, as the boat approached the unknown shore, their hearts pounded—not from fear alone, but from the strange thrill of being the first from their islands to touch this distant land.
First Contact with California
The boat scraped the sand. Diego jumped out first, boots sinking into the cold, wet earth. He whispered, “Parang ibang mundo.” It felt like stepping onto the edge of the earth. The air was crisp, much colder than anything they knew in Luzon. Morro Rock towered before them—looking eternal. A massive, solid guardian of the bay. The wind carried the smell of pine and sagebrush. The coastline was wild—no villages, no rice paddies, no coconut trees. Just rugged cliffs and rolling dunes. Basilio knelt and touched the ground. “Kung may mga tao dito,” he murmured, “ano kaya ang hitsura nila?”
The Task
Once in Morro Bay, the workers were sent by Commander Unamuno ashore, including the three Filipinos, to search for fresh water and gather supplies. Used to being sent first – to forests, to danger – the Filipinos did not complain. They were the ones who could move about briskly and quietly. As a traditional first act of religious missionaries, the group was directed to plant a wooden cross on the land and claim the territory for Spain. Teodorico carried the wooden cross as they explored the beach. They soon located a low, rugged mound of coastal soil, just beyond the beach. It was a patch of land where the sand gave way to dark, compact earth but stayed damp from ocean mist. Slowly, with reverence, they sank the cross to the ground and the earth held firm. The cross sank deep, steady, unmoving.
The Encounter
By midday, the fog lifted. The sun revealed a landscape of golden hills and quiet estuaries. As the men walked inland, they saw movement—figures watching from a distance. The Chumash people, the original inhabitants of this land. The Chumash held spears—not raised, but ready. Diego felt his throat tighten. He had seen encounters like this before in other ports—sometimes peaceful, sometimes deadly. The Spanish soldiers behind them whispered nervously. But the Filipinos felt something different: curiosity. The Chumash looked strong, calm, rooted. Their land was theirs, and they stood with the confidence of people who belonged. For a moment, the two groups simply stared at each other—Filipinos and California Natives, meeting for the first time.
The Clash
The tension broke quickly. A Spanish soldier stepped forward too aggressively. A Chumash warrior raised his spear. Someone shouted. Someone panicked. The Filipinos tried to calm the soldiers—“Dahan-dahan lang!”—but fear had already taken over. A sudden clash erupted. Spears flew. Swords flashed. Sand kicked up in clouds. In the chaos, Diego was struck down—the first recorded Filipino death on what would one day be U.S. soil. Basilio dragged Diego back toward the shore. Teodorico shouted for the
others to retreat. The landing party scrambled back to the boat, hearts pounding, lungs burning.
Leaving Morro Bay
As they rowed away, the fog returned, swallowing the shoreline. The giant rock faded into gray. Basilio looked back. He felt grief—for the man they lost, for the violence that should never have happened, for the land that seemed both beautiful and dangerous. But he also felt something else: A strange, quiet pride. They had touched a place no Filipino had touched before. They had stood on a shore that would one day hold millions of Filipino footsteps. They had become the first chapter of a story that would continue for centuries.
The Legacy
History would not record their names. Only “three Luzon Indios.” Only a brief mention in Unamuno’s log. But Filipino Americans today remember them—not for conquest, but for presence. For courage. For the simple, human act of stepping onto a new shore and revelling in its beauty. Their footprints in Morro Bay were washed away by the tide that same afternoon. But their story remains—quiet, powerful, and deeply Filipinos’ very own.
Morro Bay Today
Morro Bay today is a small, peaceful coastal city on California’s Central Coast. It feels like a place where history breathes through the landscape, especially around the iconic Morro Rock, the same volcanic monolith the three Filipino Luzon Indios saw in 1587. In 1995, the Filipino American National Historical Society (FANHS) installed a historical marker at Coleman Park, officially recognizing the landing of the first Filipinos 408 years earlier. ###
Connie Triggiano is currently Board Secretary of Circa-Pintig, a Chicago community theater organization. She works as Academic and English tutor assisting foreign students to pass IELTS, TOEFL, Celpic, ESL and other English exams to gain admission to universities in English speaking countries. She also trains greencard holders to pass US citizenship exams and interview. She worked for many years as Vice-President of Chicago-based Leo Burnett Advertising in its Manila office where she managed the advertising accounts of the country’s biggest brands: Procter & Gamble, Pepsi Cola International, BPI, Vicks, Wyeth and Cathay Pacific. She edited a travel newspaper in Singapore and taught college freshmen in a local university. Connie graduated with a BA degree, major in English, from the University of San Francisco in California while working as an information officer for a United Way agency. She took up MS in Advertising at the Asian Institute for the Development of Advertising, UST Graduate School.
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