Powell is the man who the UCLA library is named after, for he was the head librarian there for many years. He and his wife lived in Westwood and then moved out to the Malibu.
Page 401)
Indians are buried everywhere from Mugu Lagoon to Malibu Creek. Every bulldozing operation brings their bones and artifacts to light, as one did just across Broad Beach Road from us - a dozen huddled skeletons, four or five hundred years old, talking no notice of their noisy resurrection. Our germanium garden, falling to Encinal Creek, is sure to be a burial ground, the gofers tell us. Mary Austin writes of the residue of personality that always haunts a place once inhabited by man. Jeffers' poetry is full of these hauntings. But I cannot say that I have encountered sprits here on the Malibu. Perhaps the diesels drive them away. I have no fear of them however. The Chumash were a gentle people, living on shell fish, roots, and acorn meal. We who are carnivorous may leave a different residue. Sometimes I wonder who will follow us here, and what they will make of our artifacts - books on discs ... and less tangible, though perhaps more lasting, our love for this marine mountainscape this world called the Malibu.
From the book Writing Los Angeles
I'm sorry I failed to write down the year he wrote this and the ... is a couple missing words.
