When I first scrutinized the new plaque at Veterans Memorial Park, I didn’t quite get it.

The plaque honors 160 mounted riflemen from Sonoma who, if you can believe the historical evidence, forded the river at this location on July 6, 1846. These were Bear Flaggers on their way south to support California’s independence from Mexico.

I was underwhelmed. The plaque wasn’t commemorating a battle or a treaty, but a passing through. Before there was even a Napa.

No blood was spilled. A few horses got wet. The men on horseback quickly moved on. And this merits a mention in bronze?

But as I pondered the inscription, my dismissal turned to appreciation. The words began to evoke rousing images of Napa at the beginning of recorded history. A time of Mexican ranchos and native settlements. A Napa utterly unfathomable to those of us today.

Had there been no passing through on July 6, 1846, history might have unfolded differently. Of necessity, my Spanish-speaking skills might be sharper than they are.

When my historical day dreaming was done, I wished Napa had more plaques to illuminate the past. Descriptors on landmark buildings, for sure, but don’t stop there. Tell me where the old movie houses once stood, the bakeries, the saloons, the apothecaries.

Few city residents of today knew the Napa that existed before World War II. No one alive recalls pre-World War I. As for pioneer times, forget it.

Plaques could correct this historical amnesia and help us to imagine olden times.

For example, the first commercial building — reportedly a saloon — stood at the southeast corner of Main and Third, site of today’s spanking-new Riverfront development. Put a plaque there.

A grand hotel, the Palace, presided over the southwest corner of Third and Soscol, now a grassy flood zone. Mark the spot. If you can, show me a picture.

The empty Borreo Building opposite the Palace site may become a restaurant, but what was it once? A car dealership and a dance hall, you say? Tell me more.

And let’s not forget houses of prostitution. Napa had ’em, but do you see them memorialized? You do not.

I was present in the late 1970s when a bulldozer tore down May Howard’s bordello — a landmark whose glory years were the 1930s — to make room for the extension of Soscol Avenue. A small crowd gathered to bid a fond farewell.

If horses crossing the river merit a plaque, so does May’s place.

The Vintners Collective on Main Street was allegedly, reportedly, according to rumor, a bordello at some point in its 134-year history.

But what does the plaque on the building say? It mentions the Chinese laundry and brewery that once operated in this, Napa’s oldest surviving commercial building.

As for sex for hire, nothing. The plaque could have tried harder.

The Napa Mill complex is a good example of how blanketing downtown with plaques might work. Every building there has a bronzed accounting of former uses — hay storage, flour milling — that preceded today’s Sweetie Pies era.

This is great stuff. The marker at 1091 Fifth St., adjacent to the Napa Mill parking lot, is a case in point.

This modest structure was built in 1949 to house the Napa Police Department. The first structure on the site dated from 1869: a coal gasification plant to light the Napa Valley Opera House and the rest of downtown.

That’s a whole chapter from Napa’s past writ in just a few lines. This dose of history rattled around in my head for hours.

And so it could be throughout downtown. Install plaques. Bring the ghosts of Napa’s past out into the sunshine.

Tell me about the bars, the cigar stores, the shoe shine stands, the upstairs social halls, the flophouses. How about markers for the long-departed Woolworth’s lunch counter and the spot of the last courthouse hanging.

Downtown has a long and marvelous history. It’s reinvented itself time and time again. But without plaques, how would you know?

 Kevin can be reached at 256-2217 or Napa Valley Register,  P.O. Box 150, Napa 94559 or kcourtney@napanews.com