Book: California 1849 1913
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L.H. Woolley >> California 1849 1913
One of the exciting times in San Francisco in 1865 was when a mob went
to the office of "The Examiner" on Washington street near Sansome and
carried everything that was movable into the street and piled it up with
the intention of burning. It seems that this paper was so pronounced in
its sympathy with the cause of the Confederacy that it aroused such a
feeling as to cause drastic measures. The police authorities were
informed of what was going on and Colonel Wood, captain of police, got a
squad of policemen together and proceeded to the scene, but their
movements were so slow that it was hard to tell whether they were moving
or not and by the time they had reached the place the boys had carried
off nearly everything that had been thrown out. I have two pieces of
type now that I picked up in the street about that time.
Uncle Phil Roach, the editor, was in later years a member of the State
Legislature and tried to get an appropriation to cover his loss but his
efforts were of no avail.
President Lincoln and Gen. Vallejo.
President Lincoln in the early part of the Civil War called General
Vallejo to Washington on business. While there General Vallejo suggested
to Mr. Lincoln that the United States build a railroad into Mexico,
believing as he said, it would be a benefit to both nations. Mr. Lincoln
smilingly asked, "What good would it do for our people to go down to
Mexico even if the railroads were built? They would all die of fever and
according to your belief go down yonder," with a motion of his hand
towards the supposed location of the infernal regions. "I wouldn't be
very sorry about that," remarked General Vallejo coolly. "How so?" said
Mr. Lincoln. "I thought you liked the Yankees." "So I do," was the
answer. "The Yankees are a wonderful people, wonderful. Wherever they go
they make improvements. If they were to emigrate in large numbers to
hell itself, they would somehow manage to change the climate."
Off to the Nevada Mines.
Uncle Billy Rodgers, from Peoria, Ill., was a fellow passenger of mine
when crossing the plains in 1849 in the first division of the "Turner,
Allen & Co. Pioneer Mule Train," consisting of 40 wagons, 150 mules and
150 passengers. He was a gambler before he left home and he gambled all
the way across the plains. Many people think that a gambler has no heart
but this man was all heart. I knew him on one occasion, after visiting a
sick man in camp, to take off his shirt and give it to the sick man and
go about camp for an hour to find one for himself.
We arrived in California on September 10, 1849. We parted about that
time and I saw no more of him until the winter of '68 and '69 when I was
on my way to White Pine in Nevada. We had to lay over a few days at
Elko, Nevada, in order to get passage in the stage. As we had saddles
and bridles we made an effort to get some horses and furnish our own
transportation, and we had partly made arrangements with a man by the
name of Murphy. The day previous to this I overheard a conversation
between two gentlemen sitting at the opposite end of a red hot stove.
After they parted I approached the one left and said, "Is this Uncle
Billy?" He said, "Yes, everybody calls me 'Uncle Billy' but I do not
know you." I gave him my name and he was as glad to see me as I was to
see him. We had a long and very pleasant chat.
Now to take up the line of march where I left off, I said, "Hold on boys
a little while I go and see a friend of mine." "All right," said they. I
called on Uncle Billy and told him what we were doing and asked him what
kind of a man Murphy was, and his answer was, "He's a very good
blacksmith," and repeated it two or three times, then said, "I am in a
wild country and never say anything against anybody." I said, "That's
enough Uncle Billy, I understand you thoroughly." I parted with him and
we took the stage for Hamilton and Treasure Hill. The last I heard of
Uncle Billy was that he went north as an escort to some party and died
there. Uncle Billy was a gambler all his life but not a drinker. His
heart, his hand and his pocket were ever open and ready to respond to
the relief of the distress of others. The writing of the above calls to
mind another meeting with Uncle Billy of which I had lost sight, the
date of which I cannot fix. I think it was in the first half of '60 I
met him on the street in San Francisco and our meeting was most cordial.
We had a very pleasant street visit and he said to me, "Woolley, I am
going home, I shall take the next steamer for New York." I said to him,
"How are you fixed, Uncle Billy?" He said, "I have eleven thousand
dollars and I am going home." I congratulated him for his courage and
good luck and wished him a pleasant voyage and a happy reunion with his
old friends. About a week later I met Uncle Billy on the street again
and said to him, "How is this Uncle Billy, I thought you were going home
on the last steamer?"
"Yes," said he, "I thought so too; at the same time, I thought I would
just step into a faro bank and win just enough to pay my passage home so
that I would have even money when I got home. But instead of that I lost
every dollar I had and I am going back into the mountains again. My
readers know the rest."
My friends this is only one of thousands who had the same experience.
In 1868 "the girl I left behind me" went East on a visit of six months,
taking with her our two children.
In the fall of that year (1868) I went to White Pine in Nevada. It was a
very cold trip for me and I came home in June "thawed out," sold out my
grocery business and went into the produce commission business and
followed it for ten years.
Martin J. Burke.
Chief of Police Martin J. Burke I knew very well in the early sixties.
He was a genial and good natured man, well liked by everybody who knew
him. I went to him one time with a curb bit for a bridle which would
bring the curb rein into action with only one pair of reins. He was much
pleased with it and used one for a long while. George C. Shreve, the
jeweler, had one also, as did Charles Kohler, of the firm of Kohler &
Frohling, wine men of San Francisco. He offered me $3000 for my right
but I refused it. I applied for a patent only to find that another was
about twenty years ahead of me.
The Donahue Brothers.
James, Peter and Michael Donahue, the founders of the Union Iron Works
on First and Mission streets, were three honorable, upright and just
men. Their works have since been removed to the Potrero south of the
Third and Townsend streets depot of the Southern Pacific Co., and have
of late passed into the hands of the United Steel Corporation. They are
the largest of their kind on the Pacific Coast and stand a monument to
their founders. James Dunahue built and owned the Occidental Hotel on
Montgomery street between Sutter and Bush streets. Peter Donahue had the
foundry and machine shop. At one time there was a little
misunderstanding understanding between the two and they did not speak to
each other for quite a while. During this time Peter started to build an
addition of brick on the north side of the foundry, got up one story and
stopped. The two brothers met one day opposite the unfinished building
and James said, "Peter why don't you go on and finish your building?"
Peter replied, "I have not got money enough." "Oh!" said James, "go
ahead and finish it up and I will let you have all the money you want."
'From that time on they resumed their brotherly relations. Peter went on
in his business. His last venture was to build the Petaluma railroad.
Both are now dead. Michael went East early in the '50s and I knew very
little of him.
The Take of A Young Bull.
In 1870 I was in the produce commission business in San Francisco and
had a consignor in Vacaville by the name of G. N. Platt who had been
presented with a fine young bull by Frank M. Pixley, who lived in
Sausalito, in the hills about two miles from town. Mr. Platt requested
me to go and get the bull and ship him to Vacaville, so I left next
morning for Sausalito. Here I sought a man who could throw the lasso.
After two hours I found the man I wanted. He had the mustangs and all
the necessary equipment. We mounted and left for Mr. Pixley's residence
where we were informed that the animal we wanted was somewhere in the
hills with the other cattle. This was rather indefinite information, but
we had to make the best of it and started out. Our mustangs were well
calculated for the occasion and we went over the hills like kites.
Finally we saw some cattle about a mile away and we made for them, found
what we were in search of and made for him. He had horns about two
inches long and was as light on his feet as a deer, and gave us a lively
chase for about one hour. When we had him at the end of a rope he was
determined to go just the opposite way than we wanted him to, but the
man and the mustang at the other end of the rope had their way part of
the time, so after about two hours hard fighting we succeeded in getting
the little fellow down to the wharf where I found that there would not
be another boat until after dark, so I concluded to wait and come over
in the morning and ship him. The next thing was to dispose of the bull
for the night. I said, "Here is a coal bunker, we will put him in here."
So after getting permission we started for it with the bull at one end
of the rope and the vaquero at the other. The bull got a little the
better of the man and went up the wharf full tilt with the vaquero in
tow. The vaquero said, "There is a post on the wharf, the bull will go
one side and I will go the other and round him up." But he got rounded
up himself and left sprawled out on the wharf. This let the curtain down
for the night and the bull went back to the hills with the rope. I
returned to San Francisco, went back in the morning, hunted up my man
and mustangs, mounted and went into the hills again for my bull. This
was a bully ride, I enjoyed it hugely, found our game about noon, picked
up the rope with the bull on the end of it. He was still wild and full
of resistance. He was the hardest fellow of his size that I ever
attempted to handle. We made our way back to the landing, found the boat
waiting. I called the boat hands to help put him on board. They came. I
put one at his head, one on each side and one behind, and they all had
as much as they wanted to keep control of him. Finally he was made fast
on the boat. While on our way to San Francisco a lady from the upper
deck called down to me, saying, "I will give you one hundred dollars for
that bull." I said, "No, madam, you cannot have him, he is going into
the country for business."
After landing in San Francisco I had to take him from one wharf to
another so as to take the Vacaville boat. I got a job wagon and the boat
hands to take him out and tie the fellow to the hind axle of the wagon
and then go by his side to the other boat. We fastened him securely to a
stanchion and tagged to his destination. This relieved me of any further
responsibility. I saw him about three years later in Vacaville. He was a
fine large fellow with all the fire in his eye that he had in his
younger days. He had a large ring in his nose with a chain running from
it to the end of each horn. Now as my readers have had the bear story,
and now the bull story, they will excuse me on those two subjects.
Admission Day 1875.
Another event that might be of interest and worthy of reciting here on
account of the many noted personages that partook in the celebration was
the ceremonies connected with the 25th anniversary of the admission of
California as a State into the Union, September 9, 1875.
The principal places of business, banks and offices were all closed and
the buildings and streets were gaily bedecked with flags and bunting.
The "bear flag" being in evidence everywhere. The shipping presented a
pretty sight, the vessels seeming to outvie each other in their efforts
to display the greatest amount of bunting and flags.
One of the features of the day was the parade. The procession started
from in front of the Hall of the Pioneers on Montgomery street north of
Jackson, marched along Montgomery to Market, to Eleventh, to Mission and
thence to Woodward's Gardens, where the exercises were held. When
opposite the Lick House, James Lick, the honored president of the
society, who reviewed the passing pioneers from his rooms, was given a
rousing salute by each of the delegations as they passed. In this parade
were members of the pioneer organizations from Sacramento, Stockton,
Marysville, Vallejo, Sonoma, Marin, Napa, Mendocino, Lake and
Placerville, as well as the parent organization of San Francisco.
The escort consisted of the 1st, 2nd and 3rd Regiments, 2nd Brigade, N.
G. C., Col. W. H. L. Barnes, Col. John McComb and Col. Archie Wason,
respectively. Brig. Gen. John Hewston, Jr., commanding. Marshal Huefner
and his aide followed. Next came the several visiting pioneer
organizations, then the carriages of invited guests, orator, reader and
others. Then the home society, turning out 427 strong.
Among the persons of note to have been seen and who wore the golden
badge indicating that they had come here prior to 1849, were Carlos F.
Glein, A. A. Green, A. G. Abel, George Graft, W. P. Toler, Thos. Edgar,
G. W. Ross, P. Kadel, F. Ballhaus, W. C. Hinckley, H. B. Russ, A. G.
Russ, Owen Murry, B. P. Kooser, J. E. Winson, Arthur Cornwall, E. A.
Engleberg, Wm. Jeffry, Capt. Hinckley, Wm. Huefner, Thos. Roche, F. G.
Blume, John C. Ball and Thomas Eagar.
Among the others present were Ex-Gox. Low, Mayor Otis, Ex-Sen. Cole,
Chas. Clayton, Paul K. Hubbs of Vallejo, Eleazer Frisbie, L. B. Mizner,
Niles Searles, F. W. McKinstry and Dr. O. M. Wozencraft, a member of the
First Constitutional Convention of California.
In the Sonoma delegation were Nicholas Carriger, ex-president and
director; Wm. Hargrave, a member of the original Bear Flag Party of
1846, Mrs. W. M. Boggs and Mrs. A. J. Grayson, who came here in 1846 in
advance of the Donner party.
In the Vallejo delegation were John Paul Jones Donaldson, then 84 years
old, who was on this coast as early as 1823 and who came back to reside
here in 1848.
Wm. Boggs and his delegation from Sonoma were mostly all 1846 arrivals.
James W. Marshall, the man who discovered gold at Coloma, about 45 miles
northeast from Sacramento, on January 19th, 1848, was with the
Sacramento delegation. He was then 67 years old, hale and hearty.
Mr. Murphy, a survivor of the Donner party, was with the Marysville
delegation.
In addition to these were many others who have since become well known
through their doings in the political arena and business world, and have
made names for themselves that are honored and respected to this day and
will ever find a place in this State's history.
At the Pavilion in Woodward's Gardens the literary services were held.
D. J. Staples, acting-president, delivered a stirring address,
rehearsing the events of the past 25 years.
Dr. J. B. Stillman then followed with an oration in which he spoke of
the gold discovery in California, the effect upon the East of Col.
Mason's report, the sudden influx of seekers of the "Golden Fleece" by
sea and overland, of their hardships and endurance, and their
experiences at the mines, etc., etc.
Mr. J. B. Benton read a poem by Mrs. James Neall.
The literary exercises were followed by a lunch and that by an
entertainment of mixed character. Billy Emerson, Ben Cotton, Billy Rice,
Ernest Linden, F. Oberist, W. F. Baker, J. G. Russell and Billy
Arlington of Maguire's Minstrel Troupe, and W. S. Lawton, Capt. Martin
and L. P. Ward, and the Buisley family being among the entertainers.
A balloon ascension followed the entertainment and during the day the
"Great Republic" made an excursion around the bay.
On an S. P. Pay-Car.
In the summer of 1874 the paymaster of the Southern Pacific Railroad
Company, Major J. M. Hanford, sent me an invitation to accompany him on
the pay car through the San Joaquin Valley, to pay off the employees of
the company. I was delighted to have an opportunity of going through the
valley. At the appointed time I was on hand with two boxes of cigars,
for I knew the Major was likely to have some lively, good natured
fellows with him, and I wanted to have something with me to help me
along. Now I must say something about this pay car, for it was a
wonderful thing for me. It had the appearance on the inside of a hotel
on wheels. At the rear end was a window through which the employees were
paid; the depth of the room in which were the pay master and his two
check clerks, was about the same as the width of the car. In it were the
safe, rifles, shotguns, pistols, ammunition galore, with an opening into
what was used as the dining room and berths, which would accommodate
about 12 people. Then came the cook's room on one side, with a narrow
passageway on the other, into a small room in the front end of the car.
This car was sixty feet in length and would make you think you were in a
palace hotel on wheels. Hank Small, who had hands as big as a garden
spade, was the engineer, with engine No. 96, which was always expected
to pull the pay car. Then there was a man by the name of Olmsby who was
one of the check clerks, young and very fine looking. Then there was
another man in the employ of the company by the name of Gerald who was
auditor for the company and had feet twice as large as any other man.
Now I want my readers to hold these three men in mind and their
peculiarities for I shall refer to them later on.
We are all now seated at the supper table, ten in all, and all railroad
men except myself, with the dignified paymaster at the head of the table
and his check clerk, Olmsby, at the foot, who assumed the duty of saying
grace by making motions around his chest and head, accompanied with
these words, "Bucksaws filed and set." This created some amusement and
was the only time it occurred. The supper went on and the tables were
cleared away, and then there was chatting and story telling. Finally I
started to tell a story and had gotten fairly into it when I suddenly
discovered that every man in the room was sound asleep. It did not take
me long to wake them up and have every man on his feet or on the floor.
This did not last long, for I brought out one of my boxes of cigars and
that settled the question right there. The next day we were in the San
Joaquin Valley and continued the trip, paying the men as we went along,
until we reached Bakersfield. This was the end of the road at that time.
Then we returned to Stockton, to Sacramento, to Red Bluff, which was the
end of the road in that direction at that time. From there we returned
to San Francisco, having had a very fine and agreeable trip, and each
one returned to his former allotted position. I at this time was in the
produce commission business on Washington street near Front street.
Inside of a year Mr. Olmsby left the railroad company, married and went
to Chico, in the Sacramento Valley, to run a stationery store. In 1876,
the year that President Hayes was elected, his wife gave birth to a
child and Olmsby sent a telegram to Mr. Hanford reading like this: "Boy,
born last night, has Gerald's feet, Hank Small's hands, my good looks,
and hollered for Hayes all night."
Employ of the Southern Pacific.
In 1884 I went into the employ of the Southern Pacific Co. where I
remained for twenty years. In 1904 on account of a rule of the company
pertaining to long service and age, I was retired on a pension. I
protested, they insisted, I accepted (because I could not help myself).
The company was right and I appreciated the pension as they appreciated
my services. In all those years I had no reason to complain of the
company.
Shortly after my retirement from the employ of the Southern Pacific
Company I had sickness in my family and lost "the girl I left behind
me," after fifty-three years of happy married life. This was in 1906, it
is now 1913, and I am still behind, but I shall get there bye-and-bye
and we will go on together side by side.
Sloat Monument.
On June 4, 1910, I went to Monterey, Calif., to attend the ceremonies of
the unveiling and dedication of the Sloat Monument at the Presidio of
Monterey. The idea, conception and putting through to a successful
termination of the erection of this monument, was the work of, we might
say, one man, Major Edwin A. Sherman, V. M. W. It has taken the greater
part of his time for twenty-four years. A large proportion of the money
necessary was raised by subscription, but things lagged for a while,
when the Major applied to the U. S. Congress for an appropriation of
$10,000 to complete the work and got it. The monument was then finished
under the supervision of Lieutenant-Colonel John Biddle.
At the dedication which was held under the auspices of the Grand Lodge
of Masons, Col. C. W. Mason, U. S. A., delivered the address of welcome,
Major Sherman gave a brief sketch of the work and Lt.-Col. Biddle made a
few remarks. M. W. W. Frank Pierce, 33rd degree Mason, officiated.
The monument was erected to commemorate the raising of the American Flag
at Monterey, the capital of California, July 7, 1846, by the forces
under command of Com. Jonathan Drake Sloat, U. S. N. War had been
declared between the U. S. and Mexico.
Nob Hill.
In later days, about 1877, the term Nob Hill was applied to the crown of
California street from Powell street westward three blocks to Jones
street, on account of its having been selected by the railroad magnates
of the State upon which to build their new homes, it being their desire
to live together in their home life as well as in their business life.
On the north side of California street commencing at Powell was the
residence of Mr. David Porter. This was torn down to make way for the
Fairmont Hotel, ground for which was broken October 15, 1902. There were
other small homes on other parts of the block but they too were removed
and the entire block was used as a site for this famous hostelry.
In the early days a long shanty 40 feet by 10 to 12 feet in width stood
where the Porter residence formerly stood. A man by the name of McIntire
owned it. It was literally covered with California honeysuckle, and a
view point of the town. This entire block was acquired by the late James
G. Fair, one of the famous mining men of Nevada, and it still remains in
the family estate. The hotel was in the course of construction at the
time of the great fire of April 18-21, 1906, and the interior had to be
rebuilt entirely as well as the stonework about the exterior openings.
The next of the large homes was that of James C. Flood, a handsome and
imposing structure of Connecticut brownstone. This building stood upon
the eastern half of the block between Mason and Taylor streets and in
order to build, a huge hill of rock as high as the building now is, had
to be removed. This was in 1876. After the fire of 1906 this building
was remodeled and is now occupied by the Pacific-Union Club.
Mason street had just been cut through this same hill. On the west half
of the block stood the home of the late D. D. Colton, who made his
fortune out of construction contracts on the Central Pacific railroad.
It was afterwards purchased by C. P. Huntington, another of the famous
railroad magnates.
On the next corner stood the large frame mansion of Charles Crocker, one
of the builders of the C. P. R. R., built at an expense of $2,500,000.
His son William H. built himself a home on the far corner of the same
block. This takes us to Jones street. When the late Charles Crocker
selected this site for his home there was one piece of property facing
on Sacramento street that he could not buy, so in order to get even with
the owner, a Mr. Young, he had a tall spite fence built around the
house. The owner lived there for a while, but being shut off as he was
from the sunlight, had his house removed; still he would not sell and
the fence stood there for years afterwards.
On the south side of the street commencing at Powell stood the mansion
of Ex-Governor Leland Stanford. When Stanford purchased the property
there stood there a fine house built by the actress Julia Dean Hayne,
with an entrance at the corner. This house was removed to the corner of
Pine and Hyde streets.
The stone retaining wall on Powell and Pine streets, owing to a spring
on the property, gave way and had to be taken down (at the corner) and
rebuilt. At the corner it extends 20 feet below the sidewalk and is 20
feet thick and 30 feet high. The ground was then terraced.
The building cost in the neighborhood of $2,000,000.
On the corner above, Mark Hopkins built his home. At his death it passed
into the hands of a Mr. Searles who had married Hopkins' widow and, not
caring to live in California, he had it converted into an art gallery,
and the beautiful conservatory into art rooms for the Art Association of
the University of California, to whom he bequeathed the property. The
building cost in the neighborhood Of $2,750,000.