Book: California 1849 1913
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L.H. Woolley >> California 1849 1913
Two more criminals and I am done with rough characters - Samuel
Whittaker and Robert McKenzie, who had been arrested and duly and fairly
tried by the Committee. They confessed their guilt and were condemned to
be hanged. Their names being familiar and repulsive to all decent
citizens. They were hanged side by side in public view on August 24th,
1851. The sight striking terror to the hearts of other evildoers, who
were impressed by these examples that they could no longer be safe in
San Francisco, such as had been suspected and notified by the Committee,
quickly left the city; they, however, found no shelter in the interior.
This brings me to where I took up the Vigilance Committee of 1856.
San Francisco In 1847.
"In view of the great and growing importance of the town of San Francisco
(Yerba Buena), situated on the great bay of the same name, we will give
our readers a few pertinent and fully reliable statements.
The townsite, as recently surveyed, embraces an extent of one and
one-half square miles. It is regularly laid out, being intersected by
streets from 60 to 80 feet in width. The squares are divided into lots
of from 16 1/2 varas (the Spanish yard of 33 1/3 inches) front and 50
deep, to 100 varas square. The smaller and more valuable of these lots
are those situated between high and low water mark. Part of these lots
were sold in January last at auction, and brought from $50 to $600. The
established prices of 50 and 100 vara lots are $12 and $25.
San Francisco, last August, contained 459 souls, of whom 375 were
whites, four-fifths of these being under 40 years of age. Some idea of
the composition of the white population may be gathered from the
following statement as to the nationality of the larger portion:
English, 22; German, 27; Irish, 14; Scotch, 14: born in the United
States, 228; Californians, 89.
Previously to the first of April, 1847, there had been erected in the
town 79 buildings, nearly all of which had been erected within the two
years preceding, whereas in the next four months 78 more had been
constructed.
There can be no better evidence of the advantages and capabilities for
improvement of the place than this single fact."- St. Louis "Reville,"
February 12, 1848.
John A. Sutter.
I remember standing on the bank of the Sacramento River, talking with
Captain Sutter, in the fall of '49; he remarked, "I have moored my boats
in the tops of those cottonwood trees, where the driftwood showed not
less than 25 feet from the ground."
"The Plaza."
Portsmouth Square or the "Plaza," as we then called it, was located in
the hub of the old settlement on the cove, and occupied half a block to
the west of Kearny street, between Clay and Washington. It was the scene
of all public meetings and demonstrations. It was named after the old
sloop-of-war "Portsmouth," whose commanding officer, Captain Montgomery,
landed with a command of 70 sailors and marines on July 8, 1846, raised
the American flag here and proclaimed the occupancy of Northern
California by the United States. A salute of twenty-one guns was fired
from the "Portsmouth" simultaneously.
On the east side of Kearny street, opposite the Plaza, was the "El
Dorado," a famous gambling saloon, adjoining which was the Parker House,
afterwards the Jenny Lind Theatre, while on the north side of Washington
street stood the Bella Union Theatre, and on the west on Brenham Place
was the old Monumental Fire Engine House whose fire bell played so
prominent a part in the days of the Vigilantes.
In the spring of 1850 the writer was in San Francisco, and made the
acquaintance of Captains Egery and Hinkley, who were the owners of the
Pacific Foundry. They being in need of some molding sand for small work,
I consented to go to San Jose and get some for them. I engaged Mr.
Watts, who had a little schooner that would carry about six tons. He was
captain and I was super-cargo, and we made the trip down in about one
day. I found what I wanted on the banks of a slough, loaded the schooner
and returned to San Francisco. While in San Jose I came across two young
ladies. I had a very pleasant chat with them. I learned later on that
they were the daughters of Mr. Burnett, who became the first Governor of
California. I heard no more of them until 1910, when I was on my way to
Monterey to attend the unveiling of the Sloat Monument. I enquired for
them of a man in the depot, and he told me that one of them was lying
over there, dead (pointing in the direction), I could not help
expressing my sorrow.
The captain landed me and my cargo in San Francisco in good shape,
without any mishap on the voyage. I delivered the cargo in good order
and was well paid.
Early Realty Values.
In 1850 I was in San Francisco and by chance was on Clay street where
the city was selling 50-vara water lots in the neighborhood of Sansome,
Battery and Front streets, at auction, $25 for inside lot, and $30 for
corner lots. I stood there with my hands in my pockets, and gold dust
and gold coin on my person that was a burden to me and bought not a
single lot. There were many others who were in the same fix that I was.
You may say, "What a lot of fools," and I would say, "Yes." Here is
another little joke: Sometime before this I made a deposit of a sack of
gold dust with Adams & Co.'s Express in San Francisco. When the time
came for me to leave the city, I went into the office to draw my sack of
dust. The clerk brought it forward at once and I said, "How much for the
deposit?" He said, "Five dollars." Then I said, "You will have to take
it out of the sack as I have no coin." He said, "Are you going to sell
it?" "Yes," I said. "Well," said he, "You can sell it at the counter on
the other side, and pay that clerk." "All right," said I, and sold my
dust. It amounted to $425. He counted out the $25 in small change, and
slipped it out onto the counter. I let it lay there until he had counted
out the rest.
A Deal In "Slugs."
At this time the $50 slugs were in circulation. He counted out the $400
in a pile and took hold of the bottom one and set the pile over to my
side of the counter, as much as to say, "There is your money." I said to
him "There is five dollars coming to you for the deposit of the dust."
He picked the five dollars out of the change on the counter. I picked up
the balance of the change and put it into my pocket. I also picked up
the pile of slugs by the bottom one in the same way that he handed them
to me and dropped them into an outside pocket of my coat without
counting them, and started for the four o'clock boat for Stockton. On my
way to the wharf I thought that pile of slugs looked large and I took
them out and counted them. I found that I had twelve instead of eight. I
turned around and went back to the office, to the same counter and
clerk, and said to him, "Do you rectify mistakes here?" He said, "Not
after a man leaves the office." I said, "All right," and left the office
and made the Stockton boat all right. But there were no insane asylums
there at that time.
Harry Meiggs.
In the early fifties Honest Harry Meiggs (as he was called) was one of
our most enterprising, generous and far-seeing citizens. His first
venture was in the banking business. It was while engaged in this
pursuit that he gained the name "Honest Harry Meiggs." His banking
business was good for a year or so and then he conceived the idea of
building a wharf at North Beach. It commenced at Francisco street
between Powell and Mason streets. It extended north several hundred feet
and was used for a landing place for lumber in the rough, to be conveyed
to his mill on the South side of Francisco street near Powell. In order
to accommodate the demands of trade an "L" was extended eastward from
the end of his wharf. About this time he got into financial troubles. In
October, 1854, he departed with his family for Chili between two days
and passed out through the Golden Gate, and no more was heard of him for
a long time. It finally became known that he was in Peru, engaged in
building bridges for that government. He took contracts and was very
successful and became well off in a few years. He sent an agent to San
Francisco to hunt up all his creditors and pay them, dollar for dollar
with interest. I knew a widow in San Francisco in the late '60s by the
name of Rogers who was a creditor, who married a man by the name of
Allen; I think that was in 1867. They went to Peru and saw Mr. Meiggs.
He paid all she demanded, about $300. Allen returned and reported to the
children that their mother died while in Peru of fever, but they never
got a cent of the money.
Mr. Meiggs was born in New York in 1811 and died in Peru in 1877.
San Francisco's First Town Clock.
The first public clock ever erected in San Francisco was placed on the
frontage of the upper story of a four-story building at Nos. 425-427
Montgomery street, that was being built by Alexander Austin. This was in
1852. The clock was ordered by him and brought via the "Panama Route"
from New York, arriving in San Francisco on the steamer Panama.
Mr. Austin occupied the ground floor as a retail dry goods establishment
and it was one of the first, if not the first, of any prominence in the
city. He afterwards moved to the southeast corner of Sutter and
Montgomery streets and continued there until 1869 when he was elected
city and county tax collector.
The clock remained on the building until January 20th, 1886, when the
then owner of the building, Mr. D. F. Walker, had it removed so as to
arrange for the remodeling of the interior.
Mr. W. H. Wharff, the architect in charge of the remodeling, purchased
the clock and retained it in his possession until November 24, 1911,
when he presented it to the Memorial Museum of the Golden Gate Park,
where the curator, Mr. G. H. Barron, placed it in the "Pioneer Room." It
is to be seen there now.
Admission Day Flag.
Here is an interesting fact that has never been given publicity before,
and I simply relate it as told me by Sarah Connell, the daughter of the
man that carried it.
"Mr. D. S. Haskell, manager of the express and banking business of Adams
& Co., conceiving the patriotic idea of having an American flag carried
in the division of which his firm was to be a part, endeavored to
procure an American flag, but found that nothing but flags of the size
for ships or poles were to be had. He then started to find material from
which to have one made, but in this he was unsuccessful also. So,
undaunted, he at last found a dressmaker who lived somewhere in the
neighborhood of Washington and Dupont streets, who found in her
'piece-bag' that she had brought from New York, enough pieces of silk
and satin (they were not all alike) to make a flag three feet by two
feet. He was so delighted with her handiwork that he gave her a $50 slug
for her work[6].
"Thus it was that Adams & Co. were able to parade under the stars and
stripes in that memorable parade of October 28, 1850, in celebration of
the admission of California as a state into the union. After the parade
Mr. Haskell presented the flag to their chief messenger, my father, Mr.
Thomas Connell, and it has been in our possession since."
Mr. Thomas Connell.
Mr. Connell was one of the few of the early comers who never went to the
mines, though of course, that was his intention. He started, but
somewhere on the Contra Costa side - it was all Contra Costa then - he
fell ill of malaria fever. There was no one with time to bother with a
sick man and he was unable to proceed or return so he expected to end
his life there. When the disease abated he concluded that he had no
desire to penetrate further into the wilderness, so he turned his face
towards San Francisco again. He was a shipwright by trade and though
there was nothing doing in his line, he saw the possibilities of a
boating business when there were no wharves, piers or other
accommodations for freight or passengers. One of the curious uses to
which his boats were put was the carrying of a water supply. They were
chartered by a company and fitted with copper tanks which were filled
from springs near Sausalito. On this side of the bay the water was
transferred to wagons like those now used for street sprinkling and the
precious fluid was supplied to householders at a remunerative rate of
twenty-five cents a pail, every family having one or two hogsheads
fitted with a spigot to hold the supply.
Mr. Connell also carried the first presidential message received in the
State, rowing up the Sacramento River day and night in his own boat to
deliver the document at the capitol, and for sake of the sentiment he
also carried the last one received by steamer as far as Oakland, whence
the delivery was completed by train.
Uncle Phil Roach, Happy Valley.
Uncle Phil Roach, editor and founder of the "San Francisco Examiner,"
lived on Clementina street near First. He was one of those good natured,
genial old men that everybody liked, was at one time president of the
Society of California Pioneers (1860-1), and later elected to the State
Legislature. He afterwards acted as administrator of the Blythe estate,
but died before its final settlement.
The place where he lived was called Happy Valley and the only entrance
to it was at the intersection of Market, Bush and First streets, this
crossing being at the east end of a sand dune about 30 feet high,
extending westerly about half a mile. At this time the waters of the bay
came up to the corner of Market and First streets, but it was not long
before this, and many other sand dunes, disappeared, being scraped and
carted off to fill the nearby mud flats.
There was at this time a little wharf 50 feet wide extending out into
the cove from the foot of Clay street at Davis 1550 feet to a depth of
35 feet. It was called "Long Wharf." To the north of this wharf the
water lapped what is now Sansome street for a block (to Washington
street) and followed the shore line to the corner of Jackson and
Montgomery streets.
Early Water Supply.
My mind drifts back to the days when our water system was dependent in
part upon a well near the corner of Market and First streets. This was
in 1855 when the population of San Francisco was between 40,000 and
50,000. I was then living on Third street near Mission and got my supply
of water from a man named Somers who conveyed water about the city to
his various customers in a cart. I took water from him for about three
years at the rate of $1.50 per week.
Many's the time I have gone out to the Mission hunting rabbits. All that
part of the city was as wild as it ever was, sand dunes and low grounds.
About three years later a company built a plank toll road on Mission
street from some point near the water front to the Mission, a distance
of about three miles. This made an opening through the sand dunes and
that section filled up rapidly.
Postoffice.
The postoffice was situated on the lot at the northwest corner of
Washington and Battery streets. It was built in 1855. Previous to the
erection of this building the pioneers obtained their mail from the
postoffice on Clay street and Waverly Place, and on Clay street near
Kearny opposite the Plaza (Portsmouth Square), and afterwards on Clay
and Kearny streets. The great fire of 1852 destroyed these places. To
avoid confusion and facilitate the delivery of the mail on the day the
steamer arrived, long lines were formed of people who expected letters
from home.
It was a frequent occurrence to see the same people standing in place
all day waiting their turn, the delivery windows being arranged
alphabetically. Oft-times persons would sell their places for as much as
ten and even twenty dollars.
John Parrott.
John Parrott, the banker, was a good natured man and could take a joke
with much grace. Here is one: "A broker came to him one day and said:
'Mr. Parrott, I want to borrow one thousand dollars on a lot of hams in
the warehouse.' 'All right,' said Mr. Parrott. It went on for some time
and Mr. Parrott looked around for his ham man, but could not find him,
but he found the hams and the greater part of the weight of them was
maggots. Mr. Parrot was very much disgusted. Time went on for a number
of years and another man came to him to borrow money on hams in the
warehouse. Mr. Parrott said to him, shaking his finger before the man's
face, 'No more hams, no more hams,' and walked off." It was a standing
joke on the street for a long time. This was late in the '50's.
In 1858-59 I built two very good houses on the south side of Howard
street near Fourth. I lived in one of them about two years and then
bought on the north side of Taylor street between Clay and Washington
streets and resided there 17 years.
Pony Express.
I was present when the first messenger mounted his pony to start on the
first trip across the continent. He started from Kearny street between
Clay and Washington, opposite the "Plaza" - this was on the 3rd of
April, 1860. It was a semi-weekly service, each rider to carry 15 pounds
of letters - rate $5 per half ounce. Stations were erected about 25
miles apart and each rider was expected to span three stations, going at
the rate of eight miles per hour. The first messenger to reach San
Francisco from the East arrived April 14, 1860, and was enthusiastically
received. Time for letters from New York was reduced to 13 days, the
actual time taking from 10 1/2 to 12 days. The best horses and the
bravest of men were necessary to make these relays, over the mountains,
through the snow and across the plains through the Indian-infested
country. The distance from San Francisco to St. Joseph, Mo., was 1996
miles and the service was established by Majors, Russell & Co., of
Leavenworth, Kansas.
Now I will go back a few years and pick up a little experience that was
scattered along the road. In 1861 I took my family around the bay for an
outing in a private carriage. We went through San Mateo, Redwood City,
Santa Clara, San Jose, Hot Springs, Hayward, San Leandro, Oakland and
back to San Francisco by boat. We enjoyed the trip very much without any
mishap to mar its pleasure.
A Venture In Flour.
About this time I bought out Loring & Mason who were in the retail
grocery business on the corner of Taylor and Clay streets. This was
another venture in which I had never had any experience, "But," said I,
"Here goes for what there's in it." A few days later there came a man in
his buggy from over the hill with whom I was very little acquainted. He
had charge of the Empire warehouse in the lower part of the city. His
name was Mr. Garthwait. He called at my store and said, "Woolley, I have
a lot of Oregon Standard flour in the warehouse. The storage is paid for
one month, and I will sell you what you want for $6 and three bits a
barrel, and you can take it out from time to time as you like." After
looking the situation over for a few minutes I came to the conclusion
that I could not buy any lower. I said, "Well, I will take one hundred
barrels." "All right," said he, and drove off. In a few days I went down
and paid for it. About the middle of December 1861 it commenced to rain
in the valleys and a few days later it rained in the mountains
throughout the State, and the snow commenced to melt and that, together
with the rain in the valleys, started the rivers to rising, and as the
rivers went up so did the flour. The water gauge at Sacramento indicated
feet and inches in going up while flour indicated dollars and cents in
going up. On the first of January, 1862, it was still raining and the
water coming down in a greater volume. Communication was cut off from
all parts of the country except by water. The Legislature was in session
that winter and was obliged to adjourn and go to San Francisco to finish
its labors. In order that my readers may adequately realize the
greatness of this flood it is no more than fair to say that the river
boats from San Francisco went up J and K streets in Sacramento City and
took people out of the second-story windows. Now, then we will call this
high-water mark and flour $10 a barrel and going up. During this time I
was letting my customers have what they wanted at the quotation price.
It continued to advance about one dollar per day until it reached
sixteen dollars per barrel. At this time I had very little left and it
all went at that price. Very soon after this flour came in from Oregon
and the price went down, as well as the water, and the market assumed a
lower level and business went on as usual. It must be remembered that
all transportation at this time was either by water or highway.
A Venture In Oil.
In this year was the beginning of the Civil War and for the benefit of
those who came into active life later on I will give them a little of my
experience in a small way. At the time I purchased the store of which I
have spoken I took over a standing contract they had with a firm in
Boston to send them a specified amount of coal oil around Cape Horn, as
near six weeks as any vessel would be leaving for San Francisco. I took
what was on the way at that time and the shipments were continued to me.
At this time it took from sixty to seventy days to get answers to
letters from the East. Time and business go on. We had on an average of
about two steamers a month from New York with the mails. In 1862 the war
tax and stamp act came in force. It was high and quite a hardship for
some but everybody paid it cheerfully and with a good grace, and felt
that they were getting off easy. About this time greenbacks came into
circulation as money. It was legal tender and you could not refuse it.
It made a great deal of hard feeling on many occasions but after a long
time it set settled down to a premium on gold, which fluctuated from day
to day. Finally the premium on gold was so high that currency was only
fifty cents on a dollar, that is, one dollar in gold would buy two
dollars in currency. On account of this many debtors would buy currency
and pay their creditors with it. This was considered very crooked on the
part of the debtor. I myself was a victim to some extent. The "Evening
Bulletin" exposed a great many men by publishing their names but by so
doing it made enemies and it did not last long. All bills rendered from
this time on were made payable in United States gold coin. My coal oil
cost me fifty cents per gallon in Boston, payable in currency. The
freight was also payable in currency. Now my readers will readily see
that my coal oil cost me a little over twenty-five cents per gallon laid
down in San Francisco. About 1863 there was an unusual demand for coal
oil and it was scarce and there was very little on the way around Cape
Horn, consequently the market price went up very rapidly until it
reached $1.50 and $1.75 per gallon. The result was that I sold all I had
in the warehouse and on the way around the Horn. I kept what I had in
the store for my retail trade. I do not look upon these speculations as
any foresight of mine, but the change of circumstances and conditions of
the market.
Flood of '61 and '62.
The great flood of '61 and '62 was an occasion seldom known in the
State. Early in December '61 it commenced to rain in the valleys and
snow in the mountains. In about two weeks it turned to rain in the
mountains and valleys. The melting of the snow caused the rivers to rise
very rapidly, the levees gave way and the waters flooded the city. The
merchants commenced to put their goods on benches and counters, anywhere
to keep them above water. Families who had an upper story to their house
moved into it. The water continued to rise until it reached a point so
that the boats running between Sacramento and San Francisco went up J
and K streets and took people out of the second story of their houses.
The islands were all flooded and there was great suffering along the
river besides the great loss of property. This flood did more damage
than any high water since '49, but it was as an ill wind as far as it
concerned my business, as I related previously.
Civil War Times In S. F.
In 1861 Dr. Wm. A. Scott, pastor of the Calvary Presbyterian church, on
the north side of Bush street between Montgomery and Sansome streets,
closed his services praying for the presidents of the Union and of the
Confederate States. As soon as the benediction was pronounced Mrs.
Thomas H. Selby smuggled him out of the side door into her carriage and
off to her home, fearing the congregation, which had became a seething
mob, might capture and do him bodily harm. There was no demonstration at
this time but the next morning there was to be seen in effigy Dr.
Scott's form hanging from the top of the second story of a building in
course of construction on the same block. It created some excitement for
the time being, but it soon simmered out.
Lloyd Tevis was getting badly frightened about this time for fear his
home on the corner of Taylor and Jackson streets would be destroyed and
appealed to the police for protection. He was told to go home and drape
his home in black. This he did most effectually, the occasion being the
assassination of President Abraham Lincoln.