I have been asked by my wife and daughter to write for
their perusal something that might be called a portion of my biography,
especially that connected with my early days in California. Many of the
happenings jotted down here may need correcting as to date but otherwise
are correct. I am now in my 87th year and aside from the little handicap
of age can think as clearly as any time in my life, in some directions
more clearly, especially in memory and on spiritual relations.
I was born in the town of Kingston, Plymouth, Massachusetts, October 12,
1835. My father was a direct descendant of Elder Brewster of the Mayflower
Pilgrims. My mother was of Scotch descent, her immediate ancestors coming
from Ohio to Massachusetts and marrying into the Sherman family, making
my mother a second cousin to W.T. Sherman, the General of the Civil War.
Her name was Sally Burgess, her mothers name Sally Sherman before her
marriage to Lancelot Burgess.
My youth was spent in the town of my birth and was the usual one for boys
of that period. Our family was poor, that is the children were all trained
to do their part in helping along the family expenses.During my childhood
days, say from my eighth to sixteenth birthday, the country was greatly
excited over the slavery question; churches were divided; and families
separated over the right or wrong of holding slaves. The larger part believed
slavery wrong, but felt we had consented to its continuance when the nation
and constitution were formed, and had no power to abolish it, unless the
States where it existed so desired, but had the right to prevent its further
extension. These were finally formed into a party called the Republican
Party and continued to grow until final victory under Lincoln.The Extreme
or Garrison party said, Slavery was a covenant of death and an agreement
with Hell, and should be abolished regardless of the fact that at the
formation of our government it was recognized and protected by law. Many
were the battles at the polls before the final Republican victory, and
even that triumph brought on the Rebellion, which nearly caused the overthrow
of our country. But as I now look back on those exciting days and see
how many, who called themselves Christian men and women, who could not
see the terrible wrong and so act as to retard its further spread.
About 1852, I attended a great celebration at Plymouth,
in honor of the landing of the Pilgrims in 1620. It was the largest and
most elaborate that had been held up to that time and many of the noted
men of the nation were present. Among them being Charles Sumner, then
just elected to the Senate; Edward Everett; Grove Clifford; John P. Hale
of New Hampshire; Barnewell Reet; Mr. Aken of South Carolina; Henry Ward
Beecher and many others. As the toasts were read by the Chairman, they
were responded to as each name was called. The Senate of the United States,
the concentrated light of the Stars of the Union was responded to by Mr.
Sumner, who, after giving his views of what the Pilgrims brought here,
closed as follows; Better be the despised Puritan a fugitive for freedom
than the halting politician, forgetful of principle, with a Senate at
his heels. Edward Everett was called to respond to The Manifest Destiny
of the United States. He pictured our country taking in all of the continent
from Mexico to the Isthmus of Darien and to the North Pole. It was a very
flowing and finished address. He was followed by John P. Hale in a very
humorous and lively address, and in closing paid his respects to Everett
as follows: we thought we had in the Senate some whose powers of digestion
were copious, but here we have the genius of the nation taking his stand
at the center of magnetic attraction (Plymouth Rock), swallowing Chimbarazo
for breakfast, the North Pole for dinner, and kissing sunset with an affectionate
embrace. Mr. Reet spoke kindly of the pilgrims but said their descendants
must not depart from their love of law and must respect all compromises
and guarantees of the constitution. Mr. Aken , after referring to the
hardships of the Pilgrims and of their settlement here, and of the great
men that had sprung from that little band, closed with this: Daniel Webster,
Henry Clay, and John C. Calhoun, were the three greatest lights of American
Democracy, and unless we as a nation imitate their example of patriotism,
the Union will be dissolved. H.W. Beecher responded to A Church without
a People; a State without a King. He maintained that there was a difference
between the Pilgrims that landed at Plymouth and the Puritans of Boston
and Salem. While the former were fully imbued with progressive ideas of
church and state, after living in Holland for eleven years, never having
persecuted for opinion sake, never hanging a witch, but having entertained
a Catholic Priest during Governor Bradford's term of office, and having
had for two years Roger William as a preacher, after the Union of the
Colonies in 1680, the leaders were mostly of the Puritan school, but the
community had imbibed the moral liberal view and very soon toleration
and advanced thought gradually leavened the lump and as a result what
we see today was in reality the last analysis of Pilgrim.
I think listening to the thoughts of the giant of that
day impressed me more than all else as my views and political actions
ever since. I could not but feel that slavery was wrong and should be
opposed wherever it could be legally done and when Chas. Sumner made his
great speech in Congress, announcing that while under the constitution
we had no right to interfere in the original states, we had the right
and duty to prevent its further extension, and quoted how that when the
N.W. territory was organized (it at that time being all the territory
claimed) slavery was prohibited in all of it. This was the real beginning
of the Republican party, which finally wiped out that curse, through blood
and tears, from the entire country.
I am getting a little ahead of my story and will go back
to the days of 48,51, and 55. The California discovery of gold by Marshall
at Coloma --- in 48 started a rush and excitement called the California
Gold Fever, and thousands from all lands rushed to the new El Dorado.
In 1851 my father decided to try his fortune and closed out his little
farming business and started for the new land. In 1852 my oldest brother,
James, who had just completed his trade of tinsmith caught the fever and
joined our father in the mines. In the fall of 1852, I was left to care
for our little farm of from eight to ten acres, and to assist my mother
in caring for the family, which then consisted of my brother Riley, a
younger brother, John, about five years of age, and two sisters, Sarah
and Angeline. Sarah was then about thirteen years of age and Angeline
about ten years older.
In 1853 I had thought much of going to California and talked it over with
my cousin Julius and we decided if we could in any way raise the means
we would also join the gold seekers. Up to this time I had not informed
my mother and, as I expected strong opposition from her, I delayed it
until I could see a chance to make my way without drawing on our home
finances. In the meantime Julius had talked it over with his father and
he had reluctantly consented to his going, provided he could have the
proper companion, and he, knowing our great friendship, decided if I would
go he would consent to Julius going. Then came the earnest and most delicate
part, to get my mothers consent. So after arranging with Julius and his
father that he would advance me one hundred and fifty dollars on my own
note, unsecured, I took up the subject with mother, and after telling
her my plan to sell the horse, cow, hay, lease the little farm, and put
in a good supply of wood, she, to my surprise, consented, but I could
see the tears beginning to flow. She said "promise me one thing,
that you will urge your father to return just as soon as he can without
great loss. It is hard for me to let you go, but I believe it will result
in our all going out there, or all being united here again." So we
went to work in earnest, getting things arranged. I gave my personal note
for the one hundred and Fifty dollars and we prepared to start on the
early steamer from New York, the Star
of the West, the historic ship which tried to relieve
Fort Sumner at the beginning of the Civil War.
At this time I was seventeen years of age and my cousin was sixteen years
old. We had prepared our water proof bags, in which we packed the little
necessary articles of underclothes and a cake my mother had baked and
sealed in a tin box for the absent ones in California.I remember the morning
I left I had to pass up a slight grade, where the road took a turn that
obscured the view of my childhood home. So after kissing and saying the
usual good byes, I started for the depot, where Julius and I had arranged
to meet, and as I got the turn in the road, I turned to take a last look
at the old home, and there on the front steps stood mother and sisters
waving a last good-bye. I brushed aside a tear and braced myself for whatever
the future should have in store. We reached New York the following morning,
where we remained three days until the steamer was ready to sail, via
Greytown
The voyage down to Graytown was without incident, other than sea sickness,
the sight of Eastern Cuba, and flying fish. At Greytown, we boarded small
river boats for Castello Rapids, where we were delayed for a few hours,
awaiting the arrival of the boat to cross Lake Nicaragua to Virgin Bay.
We spent the time visiting the old castle, erected by the early Spanish
settlers as a defense. We found the Rapids were artificially made to aid
in its defense, and that the castle was held by a few half-naked Nicaragua
soldiers, very untidy, and with old discarded flint-lock muskets, which
did not impress us as a very formidable defense. Soon the whistle blew
and all boarded the steamer San Carlos. We soon entered the lake and commenced
to journey across the lake and arrived at Virgin Bay the next morning.
We landed from surf boats, it being very rough. After landing, it was
all bustle and hurry to get mules to ride the twelve miles that intervened
between Virgin Bay and the Pacific or San Juan del Sur. The seven hundred
passengers were strung out over the distance of twelve miles and did not
all arrive at San Juan until the following day, where we found we must
delay for two days, as our steamer The Brother Jonathan had not yet arrived.
The steamer Pacific was substituted and it took that time to get in stores
and prepare for the voyage. We passed two volcanoes which could be seen
from the steamer deck as we crossed the lake. Just before we sailed, the
Jonathan arrived loaded with returning miners. They informed us that the
mines were practically worked out and advised us to return, as it was
foolish to continue on, but I think few, if any, heeded the advice.
After getting under way, it was discovered that a greater part of the
water was unfit for drinking purposes, and we were put on a limited amount
. The Captain announced he would put into the Port of Acapulco to replenish
his supplies, which he did, but gave notice to any going ashore to return
at once, upon the blowing of the steamers whistle, as he did not propose
to delay any longer than to replenish his stores. We, that is Julius and
myself, had seated ourselves by the railing, where we were watching the
Mexican boys dive for pennies and small coins, and almost always they
would come up with the coin after staying under water an incredible time.
We were also interested in seeing the sailors hoist beef cattle on board
by a rope attached back of their horns, and then through a pulley attached
to the yard arm, as well as hoisting hogsheads of water the same way and
drawing the rope through a block attached to the deck, where fifty to
one hundred men would take hold of the rope and running back on the deck,
the cattle or water would quickly rise and be stored where desired. We
had talked the matter over and had decided we would not go ashore, but
a sudden thought of the poor fare we had so far endured, led us to decide
to go ashore and purchase some oranges and a little Mexican cakes to help
out poor rations for the rest of the journey. So, going aft, we hired
a boat and immediately pushed off from the stern and just at that instant
they were hoisting a hogshead of water which caught under the hurricane
deck. The mast and yards broke off at the cross-trees and the barrel crashing
down, broke through the deck, where a moment before we were sitting, throwing
some of the passengers into the bay, fatally injuring one, and wounding
several. We were almost stunned at the suddenness, and we wondered what
power prompted us to go ashore just at that moment, for we had up to that
time no intention of doing so. There seems to be a power or force that
determines our actions and our fate. Some think it is a kind Providence
that guides us. I cannot doubt but that it is He, who from the beginning
to the end, directs our lives and our fate, and one whom we poor mortals
can only wonder about and adore. After a short run to the shore, we made
a few purchases of food and returned to the steamer and were soon on our
way again, without top mast or yards, depending wholly on steam for our
motor power.
At that time, there was great rivalry between Nicaragua
Route and the Pacific Mail Route, via Panama, and shortly after leaving
Acapulco we sighted the Pacific Mail Steamer John L. Stephens and now
came the race to see which would reach San Francisco first. I noticed
the smoke stack of our ship was red hot, fully half its length, night
after night, until we arrived at our destination. There was only a few
hours difference in our arrival. It was a very exciting trip while it
lasted. On the passage up, groups of passengers would gather and tell
what they expected to do on arriving, and it seems queer to recall what
crude ideas were entertained, until experience changed the point of view.
I recollect one in particular, an Irishman, who told of a countryman of
his, who had written to his home in New York that he was making eight
dollars a day in the mines, and he said if he can earn eight dollars a
day I can double it, as I could always do twice as much work in a day
as he. Another passenger thought that to get large lumps was easier than
fine gold and should look for them instead of the finer sort. No doubt
both discovered their theories were not sound in practice.
After looking over San Francisco from Broadway to Market Streets and the
water front from Davis to Montgomery, we took passage in the steamer Helan
Henshlyî for Stockton, which left Broadway wharf at 4 p.m. The streets
of San Francisco at that time were in a most wretched condition. Davis
Street then was wholly piled and the planks were full of holes and dangerous
to travel upon. Montgomery Street was only partially paved and mud was
everywhere. The side walks were made of loose planks, resting on old tobacco
boxes, and anything that would serve to hold the planks above the mud.
Our steamer reached Stockton the following morning and the crowd of stage
runners was bedlam broken loose; All aboard for Mariposa, Sonora, Angel's
Camp, San Andras, Mokolukne Hill, was enough to scare the wits out of
two green New England lads, but we finally, after much pulling and hauling,
got our seats and baggage aboard the Sonora stage, and were off on the
last lap of our journey to the land of gold. We were much interested in
our ride across the plains, in the bands of coyotes and occasional gray
wolf. Then we arrived at Knights Ferry at noon where we were permitted
to take dinner, but had hardly gotten fairly started, when we head the
command, All Aboard. But there was at the table, a man who knew all the
tricks of travel, who said Boys keep your seats and finish your dinner;
the stage dare not leave us. So acting on his advice, we filled up and
in due time boarded our stage and were off for Sonora,
where we arrived after dark and took lodging for the night at the United
States Hotel on Washington Street. The hotel was a very primitive affair.
The beds or bunks were one above the other like bunks on emigrant ships.
There were no sheets but rough gray blankets. The following morning we
took our baggage on our backs for Shaw's Flat, two miles distant, and
by inquiry were directed to my fathers and brothers cabin. It was a Sunday
morning and being in ignorance of our coming they had not yet gotten up.
So knocking at the door, I heard my fathers voice say who's there? We
answered, We're here from home. You may be sure the cabin door soon swung
open and the hearty welcome we received was indeed a joy to us.
And now began my life in California, which I shall try to relate, as my
memory can recall it after sixty-nine years. It can readily be imagined
that the change from a quiet New England town to a bustling mining camp
was a transition that few boys of today can fully comprehend. Among the
strange sights were miners camping in the open stem log cabins and in
tents. Nearly all roofs were canvas. Cooking utensils were very limited,
in many cases consisting of a fry pan and tin plate. Wash the face and
hands in the fry pan, then fry the bacon in it, then make the coffee in
it, and also bake the bread, was actually done in many cases.
After two or three days looking around and becoming acclimated, my Father
said, if you want to try your hand at mining, right here in front of our
cabin is ground that will pay from two to four dollars a day. So after
fixing up a string of sluices, I worked for several days, making on an
average about three dollars a day, which looked large to me, as youth
of seventeen. The method of mining was according to location and richness
of the ground. First, by rocker, a sort-of cradle, which was rocked with
one hand, and water poured on with the other onto gravel, placed on a
square box, say six inches deep. The water and agitation of the cradle
caused the sand, small stones, and gold to pass through holes in the bottom
and there remain until ready to be removed at the days close. The cradle
was on rockers and one end was slightly elevated, so that all the light
sand would flow off and only the heavier sand, pebbles, and gold remain
for the miners to pan out and separate. Usually two or three worked together.
One cradling or rocking; one digging and selecting the gravel to be washed;
and the other carrying it in buckets from the pit where dug to the washers.
When the mine was some distance from the water, more men to carry the
gravel were used. Another method was the Long
Tom. A long open box, say twelve to twenty inches
wide, made flaring from two to two and one-half feet, turned up at the
larger end. The larger end was covered with strong sheet iron, punctured
with holes, the size of marbles or less. This was set so the flowing in
at the upper end would flow down with considerable fall, so that sand
and gravel thrown in could be washed down by the aid of a hoe or shovel,
and pass on to the perforated iron, where a man with a hoe shoved it back
and forth, until all the sand and gravel and gold passed through the holes.
The larger stones were thrown out. When washed by a square pointed shovel,
which could readily slip under them, the gravel and gold, after passing
through the holes, dropped into the riffle box, set under the perforated
iron, set on an angle that let all the lighter matter pass on. The heavier
matter, with the gold, was retained until ready to clean up after the
days work was done. If the company was a large one, the tom was lengthened,
by adding sluices, which were boxes, made of boards, twelve feet long,
with the bottom board two inches narrower at one end so they would fit
one into the other, so men could be shoveling in as many did for a length
of one hundred feet or more. Many claims were worked with sluice boxes
alone; having what was called riffles across the boxes at different points.
They were generally considered sufficient to catch all or nearly all the
gold, the stones being forked out, the lighter gravel and sand passing
out at the lower end called tailings, which when too badly accumulated
at the lower end, were shoveled away so the water had a free run. The
process here described was used universally in place of surface mining
and in modified form in all mining.
In prospecting, one or more would pick out a likely looking place and
dig down to bed rock and then with pick and pan wash out some of the gravel
taken from different points. If one or two pieces or flakes of a color
could be discerned, it was thought to be good for three or four dollars
a day to sluice. If pieces of flakes of several colors, or maybe a dozen
or perhaps a Chisper, which might be one half an ounce or more, then we
had struck it rich, and the claim might pay $10.00 of $15.00 per ay to
a man, or it sometimes happened it would peter out, that is, a few feet
from the find it would hardly pay a dollar a day.
Now at this time, the government had not interfered but let the miners
make their own laws as to size of mines and all customs in holding them,
and free access to wood for fuel and timber necessary to work the mines.
These laws of the miners were held by the courts as the supreme law all
through the mining region. The different sections were divided into districts,
such as Sonora District, Columbia District, and so on throughout the different
mining sections. When new discoveries were made, if not within any known
district, a new district was formed. Many districts had the same sized
claims, though some varied in size. Shaw's Flat allowed one hundred feet
square, requiring a stake at each corner with notice thereon, stating
how many owners and their names, and giving the work necessary to hold
the claim. If they defaulted in working the mine, provided water could
be had and they neglected to use it, then that claim was jumpable and
anyone could work it and the former owners had no redress. In some districts
fifty feet was allowed. At Chinese Camp it was required that a furrow
should be run around your claim with a plow. After Julius and myself had
accustomed ourselves to living like miners, we began to feel we should
get into a claim, and then we could hope for big things. So we got together
the little we had earned and Julius bought into a claim at Union Hill.
I bought one not far from our cabin. We each paid one hundred and fifty
dollars for our interests. The claims paid from four to six dollars a
day. The water failed in June and they had to remain closed until the
rains the following winter. We occupied our time in prospecting and visiting
other mining districts.
One trip we made was to the big trees of Calaveras, this was in 1854.
We had heard of them but had never seen them, so Julius, Elisha Holbrock
and myself started one bright morning in the fall. It was about thirty
miles distant via Murphy's Camp, and after a very strenuous day, we arrived
at the grove about eight o'clock in the evening, very tired and dusty.
The following morning we found ourselves so stiff and lame, we decided
to remain over one day and rest. We spent the day looking over the grove
and wondering and admiring the beauty of the grove.Then the real big tree,
the largest of the grove, had just been cut and lay prostrate. The stump,
which was thirty tree feet in diameter, had been smoothed, and a dance
had been held on it in which thirty couples took
part. At that time only a log or shake cabin was able to accommodate all
comers. We were the only guests at that time. It certainly opened our
eyes to California's wonders. Having heard of a wonderful cave about fifteen
miles distant, which we found by detour of seven miles on our return trip,
we decided to take that in. So the second morning, after being rested
and somewhat limbered up, we started for what was then called Cave City.
We found the Cave and its keeper who gave us a history of its discovery.
It seems that a man was hunting a coyote which had invaded his premises,
and at a point near the cave, suddenly disappeared. The man upon reaching
the point of disappearance, found a small hold about one foot in diameter.
Curiosity prompted him to drop a stone into this opening, and hearing
it fall and its echo, prompted him to dig, and in a short time, he mad
an opening into a larger room and from that to several others. From one
room was suspended a beautiful basket of jewels formed by the dripping
waters action. About eight feet from the floor at a short distance out
was the exact image of a goat's head and horns, in another there were
the most beautiful stalactites and stalagmites of alabaster and or rose
color. Some were very large and when struck gave forth beautiful musical
sounds. In one other room was a meeting place of some secret order said
to be a KnowNothing meeting place. This order at that time had just begun
its propaganda and afterwards gained for itself a control of the state
government for a short time. We each paid our guide fifty cents for his
services and a couple of hours was spent in our investigation. We then
moved on to Murphy's Camp and remained over night. We reached home the
next day. This was in 1854. In 1860 I was again to visit this section
but on different business altogether which I will come to later on.
A day to two after our return, a man riding a mule and
swinging a bell to attract the miners, announced he had come to establish
a lodge of the Sons of Temperance. He was a deputy of the Order and his
name was David Deal. The order was started with my brother James as the
First Worthy Patriarch. The lodge prospered and did much good. At one
time the lodge owned a nice hall and was free from debt, and had several
hundred members, but after several years the mines declined and members
moved away. It finally died out in 1869. I think I held every office from
outside Sentinel to Worthy Patriarch We had many pleasant evenings and
many comic and funny experiences. I remember after business was competed,
it was customary to discuss the good of the order and we had many fledgling
orators, who would entertain us with more zeal than knowledge. We had
one from Tennessee, named Colwell who was like the Irishman who never
opened his mouth without putting his foot into it. He would assume a theatrical
attitude and begin: Brethren, when I look back on my future life, or this:
we should all together become one spoke in the wheels of temperance. One
night we had a little Irishman, named Jimmy Burns to initiate. As he was
totally ignorant of the solemn ceremony, he made a great blunder, which
nearly upset the evening's proceedings. After he was seated, the Past
Worthy Patriarch, whose duty was to give him a most solemn lecture, beginning,
Tell me, of my friend, who art thou? Is this earth they permanent abiding
place? It was answered by Jimmy jumping up and saying, me name ís
Jimmy Burns and me home ís Shaw's Flat. We had another peculiar
member, but an able man, whose name was De Puy, an uncle of the great
Chauncey De Puy. He would often address us and much of what he said was
very good and worthy of much thought. I remember his quaint way of putting
things. His family, consisting of addresses he would often refer to his
wife and daughter as the hen and pullet. Looking at the Worthy Patriarch
(my brother) he would say, Hum, Jim, the pullet will soon be here. I Hum,
keep your eyes open. He was in his youth rather dissipated and often told
the following: I had been out one night and imbibed more than I ought.
I was drunk and needed water, but could not find my way to the faucet
(blank space here) the devil's blood and broth, but I remembered that
Gemine, that is my first wife's name, and been churning that day as it
occurred to me to get hold of that churn and drink butter milk. So after
feeling around, I got hold of the churn and lifted it to my mouth, but
the effort was too much for me and the butter milk deluged me outwardly,
but not inwardly. Now, in this plight, Gemine called Brevier, what have
you done, and what will the; neighbors say? I hum, I determined from that
day forward to leave the devils blood and broth alone and with Gods help,
I have kept my word. He was living several years after I left the mines
and finally died at an advanced age. Many more funny things might be told
but what I have written is enough to let you know our meetings were not
wholly destitute of a little sunshine. We admitted women and as there
were but few in the mines at that time, they attracted a large attendance.
From 1854 to 1860, there were many exciting scenes and
a few I will relate. At the near close of 1854, my first year as a miner
closed. I had been fairly successful and had repaid the $150.00, with
interest, I had borrowed, and now owned my claim and felt I could now
be classed as an old miner. My father had returned home in May. The only
drawback was the shortage of water during the summer. Some went to the
rivers and hired out for the dry months. In the summer of 1855 I worked
for a few months at Red Mountain Bar on the Tuolumne for a man named Jones.
We turned the river from its bed but we got but little gold, not near
enough for expenses. I will give a short account of our daily life and
rations: We usually arose early. In summer we arose at five o'clock, in
the winter at six o'clock and cooked breakfast, consisting of fried bacon,
sometimes meat, coffee, bread and butter, or syrup. Occasionally we had
mush and molasses. This was the usual meal; at times it was varied with
a home made cake or pie or doughnuts. Sunday was wash day. We washed our
woolen shirts and underclothes, hug them out, then usually read the Eastern
papers or story books. Whenever there was a service in the little log
church we would attend. My father while with us was always prompt and
faithful in his religious life. While not demonstrative he could always
be depended on to attend all religious gatherings, and after he left we
continued to do so as long as we remained in the vicinity.
A white shirt in these days was the mark of a dandy or tenderfoot and
was frowned upon by all self respecting miners. On Sundays we would usually
fry one half a sugar barrel of doughnuts and our friends had a free run
of them. Many of our callers would have passed us by, were it not for
the call of the doughnut. In the evenings we played cards or checkers
and told of our mine prospecting and of news from home. Our mail arrived
every second week, and was usually from twenty eight to thirty days on
the way. The Pony Express and Overland Stage gradually reduced the time
until the Central Pacific Railroad was completed and regular seven day
schedule was established.
During 1854, a new preacher appeared one Sunday. He made a very affecting
address, describing a death bed scene of an upright man... At the close
he said that ministers like other men had to eat and drink and should
not have to ask for a collection. I took my hat and passed around the
small audience of thirty or more. I set my hat on the side of the pulpit
and awaited his dismissal of the worshipers, I then went up and counted
the money sand handed and handed it to him. He looked at me and said in
a low voice, You better take a part of it. I was surprised and replied
the collection was for you. He left us and the next I heard of him he
was seen at a gambling resort playing at a game called Monte. He afterwards
committed an offense against the moral law and was chased by a sheriff
and his posse out of the country. He was a black sheep and one that brought
ridicule upon religion. But we had many devoted and sterling men who lived
and worked by precept and example for peace on earth and good will towards
men.
I think it was in May of 1854, that we had a fire which destroyed almost
the entire town of Columbia, but times were good and it was at once rebuild
largely of brick and was a flourishing town for many years, until the
mining industry failed and it gradually declined. The year 1854 was about
the zenith of prosperity for Tuolumne County and the years following were
the greatest for crime. The Lyons Murder of the Blakely brothers, The
Killing of Bond by McCauley, The Murder of the County Treasurer Heslep,
The Lynching of one Smith at Columbia, The Hanging by Law of Six for crimes
of, murder, lynching of three others, all followed in rapid succession.
You can be assured that those were exciting days. During 1855 the Vigilance
Committee of San Francisco was formed and found great support among the
miners and many were willing to go to their support, had meetings, and
passed resolutions to that effect. At the time of the murder of Bond by
Mc Cauley, my brother James was constable, having been elected by citizens
favorable to law and order. When the notice of the killing reached him,
he at once got busy and having gained information that McCauly was to
meet a friend, who would furnish him with clothing and money by which
he would try to escape, stationed himself at the appointed rendezvous
and when McCauley appeared, covered him with his pistol and marched him
to the Justice's Office at Shaw's Flat, where his preliminary examination
was held.. While this was going on, a large crowd assembled with a view
of lynching the prisoner. My brother, quick to discern the intention of
the crowd, summoned a posse of ten or more to assist him and sent a message
to the Sheriff at Sonora asking assistance, and addressing the crowd advised
moderation and that they should allow the law to take its course as the
evidence was conclusive. The mob, however, was growing more noisy and
exhibited a rope already prepared with the hangman's noose and well soaped.
In the meantime, the Judge had committed the prisoner to the County Jail
to await the action of the grand jury. The constable then cleared the
little court room and prepared to take the prisoner to jail. The crowd
outside had now become fully excited and began pressing in the doors having
got one of them partially opened. My brother with pistol in hand ordered
the crowd to stand back or he would shoot. The crowd fell back slightly
and the door closed. There was a scantling 3x4 lying on the floor which
had been left by workmen, I took it up and with the assistance of others
braced the doors in such fashion that the only way to get through the
doors was to cut them down. Soon an ax was procured and began to cut.
At this time the prisoner was shaking with fear and just as it seemed
a forlorn hope the Sheriff arrived with a posse of thirty mounted men.
The Sheriff entered the room, and the prisoner was delivered to him. He
mounted him on a horse, surrounded by him with his men, and in an incredible
short time was on his was to Sonora, under a fire of stones and some pistol
shots, but no one was injured, and the excitement died down. After the
usual delay, the murderer was tried, convicted, and hung. At the same
time Lyons and his accomplice, Poor, were hung from the same scaffold.
Lyons was a fine looking man, but ignorant. He said just before the drop,
I was wronged by the Blakleys and under the same circumstances I would
do the same thing again. Poor, his accomplice, said tis liquor that brought
me here,î and he advised the young and old to shun it. McCauly was
sullen, but said nothing. The Father of Bond, who was killed, was standing
near me when the drop fell, and he remarked Justice is done. I am satisfied.
The Sheriff at that time was James Stewart, a nephew of J.B. Steward of
the Rebel Army. Many prominent men were at that intended lynching, either
using their influence for or against it. Amongst those I now remember
were a Mr. Street, who became famous as the builder of the Telegraph lines
to Salt Lake, also Horace Davis, a large flour merchant for many years
in San Francisco, and may others. All the details of other crimes are
equally exciting, but I simply relate details of this one, as I was in
a measure a part of it.
There were during these years reports of large strikes
in different parts, and a rush would be made, but soon subsided to wait
another. The strike in Colwell Garden, before spoken of, had caused miners
to believe that a river
once flowed under the whole of Table Mountain,
extending for fifteen to twenty miles through the country, and dozens
of attempts to settle the mystery were made and companies formed to run
tunnels under the mountain. I was interested in four tunnels, which never
brought any return, but rather drained my pocked in assessment fees We
abandoned them after from two to four years effort, poorer but no wiser
for the experience. So year after year passed, with hope that we would
strike it yet! Our winter surface mining always paid well, but the always
present chance to do better caused me, as well as others, to try our luck,
as we called it, to make our pile at once.
There were many comic, as well as tragic scenes, I witnessed.
There was a mining case on trial before Judge Wellington of Shaw's Flat,
and much interest was taken in it by the miners, as it concerned titles
in Table Mountain. N.P. Barber was Counsel on one side, and a lawyer named
Hunter on the other. Barber took out his pistol and laid it on the table
near him, to have it handy in case of need. Hunter took out a Boye Knife
and commenced to point out on a map the bounds of his clients claim. Then
the excitement began and waxed fast and furious. The Judge threw up his
hand and shouted, For Gods sake, gentlemen, don't disgrace the Court,
don't disgrace the community, the Court stands adjourned and the lawyers
left and the case was appealed. Afterwards lawyer Hunter shot a witness
named Drake, who was the community judge at the McCauley trial. Drake
lost an arm and in later years was Police Judge for a time in San Francisco.
During the years from 56 to 59, there were several robberies,
and one near our cabin. It concerned a Mr. Collingswood, who bought gold,
sending it to the mint, and making a percentage. The plans of the robbery
in some way became divulged to the Sheriff, and he, with assistants, laid
a plan to capture the robbers. However, the robbers suspected, after entering
the house, that they had been betrayed and tried to retreat. The officer
shot one dead. The other robber was wounded and got away, but later on
was captured. For a week or more after that I slept in Dr. Sperry's parlor,
in the rear of his store, as there had been a warning from the Sheriff's
office that an attempt would be made to rob the store, but nothing like
a robbery occurred while I was there. One night a strange noise attracted
my attention, and I sat up in bed, ready with my gun to defend the place
the now supposed robber seemed to be working about or prying up the window.
My nerves were getting tense and I was ready to fire as soon as the window
was lifted, but just at this moment a rat, which had gnawed a hole through
the ceiling, scampered across the floor, and the prying ceased, and my
robber was gone. About this time a terrible accident happened at Table
Mountain. The pressure of water had burst through the diversion wall,
which separated the claim below, and drowned five men, one of them a Mr.
Plummer, a former resident to Alameda County who ran a grocery store and
was greatly respected. Old Captain Peck, his partner, was much affected
at his death, and I remember what a sad countenance he wore when all hope
of rescue was given up.
My brother and I had often talked of having our sister, Angeline, come
out and keep house for us. In 57 a good chance for her to come with a
family that was coming presented itself, and we sent the ;funds and she
arrived while I was at work at the Stanislaus Tunnel, and my brother brought
her down to see me there. I could hardly believe my eyes. Was this the
little sister I had left some six or seven years before, about nine years
of age, in short dress, now a well developed girl of sixteen in long skirts,
well proportioned, and beautiful but there was no denying her identity.
We talked earnestly until time for them to leave.
From 57 to 59, I had mined with fair success, but had invested largely
in Table Mountain Tunnel, which had brought no returns. I still had a
very good surface claim, but no water to work it, other than water from
mining holes, which could only be pumped by hand, and would hold out for
two to three hours a day. At this time I formed the acquaintance of Mr.
Edward Harlow of Plymouth, Massachusetts who had just arrived with his
young bride from the East, and we became fast friends. I took him in as
a partner. We discovered a gravel deposit on the claim, which kept us
busy all that summer, and considering the limitation of water, and slow
pumping, we made good wages all summer, while most of the miners were
idle. But we planned for future greatness. Many evenings we spent discussing
ways and means. We had heard of the great money making sheep business,
and as a friend of my brother-in-law, Mr. Wheeler and wife who was intimately
acquainted with a Mr. Eaken who was desirous of letting out a flock on
shares, we investigated the matter. Through their influence, coupled with
our own endeavors, we concluded a bargain, by which we were to take a
flock of two thousand sheep, care for them, finding range, and shearing
same, and we were to have one-half the increase and one-half the wool.
I shall dwell more fully one this, as my acquaintance and friendship with
Mr. and Mrs. Harlow continued from that time until their death. My son
married their daughter Alice, the mother of Edward, my grandson. Before
we finally closed the bargain for the sheep, we sought out what we thought
would be an ideal place on the Bear Mountain, between Copperopolis and
Reynolds Ferry on the Stanislaus. It consisted of a range of from four
to five miles of hilly and rough ground, with occasional springs, and
to all appearances was just what would be required. We entered 320 acres,
near one of the springs, built a three room house, coral, and prepared
to make this our permanent headquarters. We had the previous summer raised
about 300 trees and expected to plant them out. We had moved on to the
ground and were busy getting things in order, expecting the sheep within
a week or ten days, when to our surprise the following morning we were
notified that the sheep were within a few miles and would arrive and be
turned over to us during the day. Of course we were surprised, but there
was no alternative but to let all our intended improvements remain unfinished
and devote our time to the sheep. We had no experience in the business
but felt we could learn all that was necessary as we went on. In fact
the year before I made a journey through the San Jose Valley to San Juan
and had gathered considerable information, which we found useful. in aiding
us to do the right thing. All went well for a week or two, but one morning
after turning the sheep out we found four dead, evidently poisoned. We,
of course, were surprised, thinking it might be some poisonous weed. We
shut up a couple of the sheep and fed them on all the different we could
find growing in the vicinity, but they thrived on what was fed them. Some
suggested the sheep might have been poisoned by cattlemen, to whom sheep
were obnoxious, as the sheep destroyed the range for cattle, but we could
never prove it. We had the stomach analyzed by a professed chemist, who
claimed he discovered arsenic. In spite of all we could do, after several
months during which we lost about four hundred of our flock, we were compelled
to abandon our ranch and remove our flock to the valley, sold the house
to parties who moved the it to Copperopolis, where it was standing eighteen
years afterward. When we found a change was inevitable, we held a council
of war and it was decided that Mrs. Harlow should return to her friends
in Massachusetts, as it was uncertain where we would finally settle and
our roving camp life was hardly the thing for a young bride, unaccustomed
to hardships. After moving the sheep about four miles, I was left in charge
while Mr. Harlow journeyed to San Francisco, saw his wife aboard the steamer
for New York, and returned.. We now commenced the final move to the valley,
and right here let me pay my feeble tribute to Mrs. Harlow. She was unassuming,
modest, never under the most exciting provocation excited, always friendly
and kind to all, always ready to do up a sore finger, or kill a chicken
for dinner. Mr. Harlow was a man more impulsive, but just. When greatly
ruffled and rather demonstrative the worst Mrs. Harlow would say would
be: Now Edward, what's the use I loved her as a sister. She seemed far
superior to most women. I always addressed her as Mrs. Harlow. Mr. Harlow
would say: Why don't you address my wife as Laura; why do you always say
Mrs. Harlow? And my answer was Because I think she is entitled to a g
greater respect than other women. They were a true and noble couple and
the world was made better by their life and example.
Now, I will relate my experience in my journey through San Jose Valley.
In 59, I looked over the sheep business. I stayed for several days at
the Antelope Hotel, corner of First and San Fernando Streets, kept at
that time by a young man named Wilcox. Twenty years afterwards, on visiting
San Jose, I met the same Mr. Wilcox, who had build a fine block on the
site of the old hotel, having a large shoe store, and renting out the
balance. After a few days in San Jose, I started on foot for Gilroy and
San Juan. About six miles out I was overtaken by an elderly man, in a
rather dilapidated rig, with curls down his back, who asked me to get
in, to which invitation I accepted. He at once asked my business and where
I came from, and whether going. Having answered his varied questions,
I began to question him. He informed me his name was Burnett, that his
brother was the first Governor of California, that he was a circuit rider
at the Methodist South, that he was then going to fill an appointment
at the New Almaden Mine. After giving me all the information he could,
we reached a point where his road turned from my course, and I thanked
him for his information and the ride. O, says he, it is alright, pass
it on, pass it on.
Now comes the sequel. Forty years afterward, I assisted
a women with a heavy satchel from Glen Ridge to the station in Los Gatos,
for which she seemed grateful She said to whom do I owe thanks for this
kindness. I gave her my name and asked for her name. She replied my name
is Burnett. I replied forty years ago a man named Burnett gave me a ride
near San Jose. He said he was a preacher of the Methodist South but probably
he was no relative of yours. She answered, Why, how strange, that was
my father's uncle. Well, I said, he told me when I thanked him to pass
it on, and so at this late day I am passing it on to one of his relatives.
She said, How strange, I shall relate this to my father when I reach the
city.
After parting from the Reverend Burnett, I journeyed on, examining different
flocks, and learning all I could about their management. Arriving at Gilroy,
I remained until the stage arrived and took passage for San Juan. Gilroy
at that time consisted of a hotel, blacksmith shop, and I think a saloon.
I recollect I thought the country was beautiful and no doubt would be
a center of trade later on. At the old mission town, San Juan Baptista,
I stopped at the Plaza Hotel, kept at that time by a man whose excellent
table had quite a reputation. The old church buildings were at that early
day sadly neglected, though worship in them continued. I remember how
the frequent ringing of the bells awoke me at early morning. I was acquainted
with one or two persons who owned ranches near by and at this time great
excitement existed for fear the Black Republicans would win the next election.
The Fire Eaters, as the Secessionalists were called, were determined to
destroy the Union if possible, under the belief that their rights were
in danger. My acquaintances were mostly southern men, who strongly favored
the southern cause, but were bitter in their denunciation of the Republican
Party. The following year, when Lincoln was elected, many of them were
ready to join the southern cause. The heated talks at this time were forerunners
of the more heated a year or more later. In í61 the town and the
night I stayed there excitement, almost equivalent to Civil War, existed.
I recollect the proprietor recommend that we keep our rooms after dark,
as it was feared a stray bullet might strike some of us. The French cook
at this second visit had a little son about six years of age.
On a third visit in 1922, this little boy who was now
a man over 65 years of age, related to me some of the exciting scenes
of the early days. At San Juan, I visited Flint & Bixby's Sheep Ranch.
On my second visit, I purchased twenty bucks and drove them alone and
unaided across Pechaco Pass to the Merced River, across to the Tuolumne,
across again to the Stanislaus, and to our ranch, and on again to our
flock thirty miles above the Calaveras Grove of big trees. This I think
was the most severe test of endurance that I had during my sheep herding
days. I scarcely got more than an hour or two sleep a day during the drive
which took about seven days.
And so the days rolled along, and now we had passed the second lambing
season; the flock now numbered near five thousand, but the season was
a dry one and feed was short, and many were closing out at greatly reduced
prices. Good breeding sheep could be bought as low as one dollar per head,
and some flocks were offered at seventy-five cents per head. By great
care and good fortune we were able to sell out mutton sheep for two dollars
per head, but the price of wool dropped from eighteen to eleven cents,
and it took all our wool and all our male increases to meet our expenses,
but our entire female increase now numbered about five hundred head. The
outlook was bad enough and I felt it would be better for all concerned
if I could sell my interest and then Mr. Harlow might get out of it a
little better. I finally sold my interest to Mr. Eaken for four hundred
dollars; three hundred down and one hundred on his note. The note was
paid, with interest, a year or more afterward.
After selling out, I started for San Francisco, where
my brother, James, had located. At that time, in 1881 my brother was on
Commercial Street, later moving to Clay Street, and still later to Front
Street. Still later on, he united with Holbrook, Merrill & Stetson
on California Street, afterward on Market Street where he held his interest
until his death in 1908. My brother-in-law, Mr. Wheeler, had started a
little express business from Fruitvale to San Francisco. With the assistance
of my brother, we proposed to enlarge the express business by taking in
San Leandro and San Lorenzo, so I looked up the business and made arrangements
with the proprietor of the Estudillo House (Mr. Stokes, an Armenian) to
board. They gave me their business, paying the difference in cash, keeping
my horses at the livery stable. So in the morning at five o'clock sunrise,
I would drive to San Lorenzo, take any orders for merchandise, or take
chickens, butter, or eggs to the city for sale, bringing back any kind
of merchandise that might be required, getting back to San Leandro at
7 o'clock, then take my breakfast, and at 7:30 drive to Alameda, take
the mail, drive to East Oakland, then called San Antonia, board, with
my team, the ferry boast at 9:30, arriving usually in the city at eleven
o'clock. Here, I delivered the mail, sold or delivered my load; then filled
my orders, taking on the mail, and returning at 3:30, usually arriving
at San Antonia at 5:P.M., via Alameda delivery, the mail usually reaching
San Leandro about 7:30 to 8 o'clock.
Our business prospered. I had by this time formed the
acquaintance of my future wife, who has now been my most devoted and loving
wife for more than 59 years, and to her loving care and devotion, and
her never failing labor for all that seemed best in our domestic life
none can surpass and very few equal her. In sickness, her consoling words
never failed us. When cast down by the loss of means, and also when the
hand of death has taken three of our dear ones, still with unfaltering
faith she bravely bears it, and encourages us with the hope of meeting
bye and bye. May God bless her, as she has always done, and when the final
record is made up, may her eternal inheritance be made sure.
I think I have written sufficient, so you can form a very general idea
of my California career, up to my marriage. From that time, until the
present, you can in your own career and from mother complete the record.
There are many little incidents during my mining days I have omitted,
thinking them so trivial they might not interest. One I will relate that
at the time caused quite a little fun among the legal community. I had
an Irishman as a partner, at one time named Andy Mc Gee. He was full of
fun and could put on a very serious face when playing a joke. A neighbor
of his named Gershom from New York had been trying to solve spiritualism,
and he had seen great wonders, which he would relate to Andy. Andy would
listen in all seriousness, but in reality did not credit his tales. So
one dark night, he procured as black cat and going to Gershom's cabin
dropped it down the chimney, and fled back to his own cabin, got into
hiss bun, and awaited results. The cat dropping into the hot ashes of
the fireplace was wild with fear, and dashed around Gershom's head, made
a bound through the canvas roof, which being old gave away, and bounded
away in the darkness. Poor Gershom, nearly frantic with fear, rushed out
and ran to Andy's cabin, demanding admission. Andy got up and let him
in. Gershom had not stopped to dress. He related what a wonderful experience
he had with the spirits, how they had raced over his bed, throwing things
about, and at last vanishing through the roof. Andy told him it might
have been something else, but Gershom insisted that it was real spiritual
phenomena, and said There are things in Heaven and Earth not dreamed of
in your philosophy Horatio. Andy related to me all the circumstances and
how seriously Gershom took it and said, Man, I thought I ought to tell
him of the joke I had played, and I did, but he would not be undeceived.
Gershom said to Andy, Nobody can convince me against the evidence of my
own eyes. I doubt whether he ever got over his delusion.
Now having brought this story down to the days of my final departure from
the mines and of my severed relations with the sheep business, and the
beginning of my life in the region of San Francisco, I will close and
at some future time, if permitted by a kind Providence, fill out this
imperfect narrative by adding the last and best, though the saddest days
of my life, but as you are familiar with the larger part I will bring
this to a close. Life, after all, seems a mystery. Could we know the future
it would have no charms, but as it unfolds we are able to bear it, with
a hope and faith that a little further, all mystery will clear away, and
our longing hope for the glorious outcome shall be gratified.
With love for you both, as ever yours,
__________________________
Charles R. Stetson
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