California 1849-1913
or
The Rambling Sketches and Experiences of Sixty-four Years' Residence in
that State



By
L. H. Woolley
Member of the Society of California Pioneers and of the Vigilance
Committee of 1856




California



1849-1913



Trip Across the Plains.

The year 1849 has a peculiarly thrilling sensation to the California
Pioneer, not realized by those who came at a later date. My purpose in
recording some of my recollections of early days is not for publication
nor aggrandizement, but that it may be deposited in the archives of my
descendants, that I was one of those adventurers who left the Green
Mountains of Vermont to cross the plains to California, the El Dorado -
the Land of Gold.

In starting out I went to Boston, New York, Philadelphia, Cincinnati,
St. Louis and Independence, Missouri. Here I joined the first mule train
of Turner, Allen & Co.'s Pioneer Line. It consisted of forty wagons, one
hundred and fifty mules, and about one hundred and fifty passengers. We
left the frontier on the fourteenth of May 1849, and here is where our
hardships commenced. Many of us had never known what it was to "camp
out" and do our own cooking. Some of the mules were wild and unbroken,
sometimes inside the traces, sometimes outside; sometimes down,
sometimes up; sometimes one end forward and sometimes the other; but
after a week or two they got sobered down so as to do very well.

Our first campfire at night was on the Little Blue River, a few miles
from Independence; it was after dark when we came to a halt, and it was
my friend Gross' turn to cook, while the rest brought him wood and water
and made a fire for him by the side of a large stump. I knew he was a
fractious man, so I climbed into one of the wagons where I could see how
he got along. The first thing that attracted my attention was the coffee
pot upside down, next away went the bacon out of the pan into the fire.
By this time he was getting warm inside as well as outside, and I could
hear some small "cuss words"; next he looked into the Dutch oven, and
saw that his dough had turned to charcoal. I got down into the wagon out
of sight, and peeked through a crack; he grew furious, danced around the
fire, and the air was full of big words. Finally we got a little coffee
and some cakes and bacon, then I undertook to do a little sleeping but
it was no go. Thus ended my first night on the Plains.

In the morning we started on our journey to travel over a level
untimbered, uninhabited country for nearly four hundred miles, without
anything of especial interest occurring save cholera, from which there
was terrible suffering. We lost about seventy-five of our number before
we reached Fort Laramie, seven hundred miles from Missouri.

There was a Dutchman in my mess by the name of Lamalfa, who understood
but little of English. We had dubbed him "Macaroni" for having brought a
lot of the stuff with him and on our second night out it came his turn
to stand guard. He was detailed to the inner guard and instructed as to
his duties. On the relief of the outer sentinel and his return to camp,
Lamalfa issued the challenge which was to repeat three times "Who comes
there?" and in case of no response to fire, and as the outer sentinel
came upon him he called out "Who comes there three times" and fired;
fortunately he was a poor shot and no harm was done.

It seems that "Macaroni" was not aware of there being an outer guard.

When near Fort Childs, four hundred miles out, all the passengers left
the wagons, except the drivers, and walked on in advance, leaving the
wagons light (they were canvas covered). There came up one of those
terrible hailstorms, common in that country, which pelted the mules with
such severity as to cause them to take fright and run away, breaking
loose from the wagons which were taken by the storm in another
direction, first wheels up, then top, until the latter was all in rags;
then they stopped. When we came into camp at night they looked sorry
enough and you would have thought they had just come out of a fierce
fight.

We pursued our journey along the south bank of the Platte until we
reached Fort Laramie, capturing some antelopes and occasionally a
buffalo. Up to this time we had had a great deal of sickness in camp. I
remember one poor fellow (his name I have forgotten), we called him
Chihuahua Bob; he was a jovial, good natured fellow and drove one of the
eight-mule baggage wagons. I enquired about him one morning and was told
that he had died during the night of cholera, and had been left in his
shallow grave.

We met some returning emigrants that morning who had become discouraged
and were going back to their old homes This made me think of home and
friends, the domestic happy fireside, and all that I had left behind,
"but," said I to myself, "this won't do, I am too far out now; pluck is
the word and I'm not going back on it."

Early next morning we were once more upon our long journey, slowly
traveling towards the far, far West.

The first place of interest that presented itself to our view was a
narrow passage for the river between two perpendicular rocky banks,
which were about one hundred feet high and looked as though a man could
jump from one to the other at the top. This was called the "Devil's
Gate." Above and below was the broad prairie.

At intervals along the Platte were villages of prairie dogs, who were
about the size of large grey squirrels, but more chunky' of a brownish
hue, with a head somewhat resembling a bulldog. They are sometimes eaten
by the Indians and mountaineers. Their earth houses are all about two
feet deep; are made in the form of a cone; are entered by a hole in the
top, which descends vertically some two or more feet and then takes an
oblique course, and connects with others in every direction. These towns
or villages sometimes cover several hundred acres and it is very
dangerous riding over them on horseback.

We will now pass to another interesting object called "Chimney Rock"
which is not altogether unlike Bunker Hill Monument. It stands by itself
on the surrounding level country, with a conical base of about one
hundred and fifty feet in diameter and seventy-five feet high where the
nearly square part of the column commences, which is about fifty feet
'on each of the four sides. It is of sandstone and certainly a very
singular natural formation. Altogether it is about two hundred feet
high. I will mention here that the banks of the Platte are low, that the
bed is of quicksand, that the river is very shallow and that it is never
clear. One of our company attempted to ford it on foot. When about
two-thirds over, in water up to his waist, he halted, being in doubt as
to whether he should proceed or return. While hesitating between two
opinions his feet had worked down into the quicksand and became so
imbedded that he could not extricate them. Realizing his perilous
position he at once gave the Masonic Grand hailing sign of distress and
in a moment there were several men in the water on their way to his
relief. They reached him in time and brought him safely into camp.

About this time there was considerable dissatisfaction manifested in
camp on account of the slow progress we were making. Some left the train
and went on by themselves, others realized the necessity of holding to
together to the last in order to protect themselves as well as to care
for those among us who were sick. The peculiar characteristics of the
party at this time seemed to be recklessness and indifference to the
situation, but the better judgment finally prevailed and we went on in
harmony.

The next three hundred miles were devoid of any especial interest. This
brings us to the summit of the Rocky Mountains (at South Pass) which
divides the rivers of the Atlantic and Pacific Oceans, and ends their
course thousands of miles apart. Here are the ever snow-capped peaks of
the Wind River Mountains looming up on the north. They are conical in
form and their base is about one thousand feet above the plain that
extends south. This brings us to the nineteenth day of July, 1849. On
the night of this day water froze to the thickness of one-fourth of an
inch in our buckets. The following day we commenced descending the
western slope, which was very rapid and rough. The twenty-first brought
us to Green River which was swollen and appeared to be a great barrier.
Here, for the first time, we brought our pontoons into use and swam the
mules, so that after two days of hard work we were all safely landed on
the west bank. We are now at the base of the Rocky Mountains on the
west, passing from one small valley to another, until we reached a bend
in the Bear River. Here let us pause for a moment and study the wonders
of nature.

First, the ground all around is covered with sulphur; here, a spring of
cold soda water; there, a spring of hot soda water; fourth, an oblong
hole about four by six inches in the rocky bank, from which spouts hot
soda water, like the spouting of a whale. It is called "Steamboat
Spring." It recedes and spouts about once in two minutes. All of these
are within a hundred steps of each other.

Now, our canteens, and every available vessel is to be filled with
water, for use in crossing forty-five miles of lava bed, where there is
neither water nor grass to be found and must be accomplished by
traveling day and night. This was called "Subletts' Cutoff," leaving
Salt Lake to the south of us, and brings us to the base of the mountains
at the source of the Humboldt River.

On the west side, in crossing over, we encountered a place in a gorge of
the mountain called "Slippery Ford," now called the "Devil's Half-Acre."
It was a smooth inclined surface of the rock and it was impossible for
the mules to keep their footing. We had great difficulty in getting over
it.

Now we are at the headwaters of the Humboldt River, along which we
traveled for three hundred miles, over an alkali and sandy soil until we
came to a place where it disappeared. This was called the "Sink of the
Humboldt." This valley is twenty miles wide by about three hundred long.
During this part of our journey there was nothing of interest to note.
The water of this river is strongly impregnated with alkali.

About forty miles in a southerly direction from the sink of the Humboldt
(now called the Lake) is old "Ragtown" on the banks of the Carson River,
not far from Fort Churchill. In traveling from one river to the other
there was no water for man or beast. When we were about half way we
found a well that was as salt as the ocean. We reached this well
sometime in the night of the first day and our mules were completely
fagged out, so we left the wagons, turned the mules loose, and drove
them through to the Carson, arriving there on the night of the second
day. Here was good grass and fine water, and bathing was appreciated to
its fullest extent.

We remained for several days to let our animals recruit, as well as
ourselves, then we went back and got the wagons. We traveled westward
through Carson Valley until we entered the Six Mile Canon, the roughest
piece of road that we found between Missouri and California. There were
great boulders from the size of a barrel to that of a stage coach,
promiscuously piled in the bed of this tributary to the Carson, and over
which we were obliged to haul our wagons. It took us two days to make
the six miles.



Arrival In California.

Now we see Silver Lake, at the base of the Sierra Nevadas on the east
side; our advance to the summit was not as difficult as we anticipated.
Having arrived at this point we are at the source of the south fork of
the American River and at the summit of the Sierra Nevadas. We now
commenced the descent on a tributary of this river.

After a day or two of travel we arrived at a place called Weaverville,
on the tenth day of September, 1849. This place consisted of one log
cabin with numerous tents on either side. Here was my first mining, but
being weary and worn out, I was unable to wield the pick and shovel, and
so I left in a few days for Sacramento where I undertook to make a
little money by painting, but it was a failure, both as to workmanship
and as to financial gain. However, by this time I had gained some
strength and left for Beal's Bar at the junction of the north and south
forks of the American River. Here I mined through the winter with some
success.

In the spring of 1850 thirty of us formed a company for the purpose of
turning the south fork through a canal into the north fork, thereby
draining about a thousand yards of the river bed. just as we had
completed the dam and turned the water into the canal, the river rose
and away went our dam and our summer's work with it.

Winter coming on now nothing could be done until spring, so I left for
San Francisco where I had heard of the death of a friend at Burns' old
diggings on the Merced River, about seventy-five miles from Stockton,
and knowing that his life was insured in favor of his wife I went there
and secured the necessary proof of his death so that his widow got the
insurance. There was considerable hardship in this little trip of about
one week. On my return, and when within about thirty miles of Stockton,
I camped for the night at Knight's Ferry, picketed my pony out, obtained
the privilege of spreading my blankets on the ground in a tent and was
soon in a sound sleep, out of which I was awakened at about two o'clock
in the morning by feeling things considerably damp around me (for it had
been raining). I put out my hand and found I was lying in about three
inches of water. I was not long getting out of it, rolled up my
blankets, saddled my pony and left for Stockton. Here I arrived at about
nine o'clock, sold the pony, and was ready to leave at four o'clock for
San Francisco. While waiting here (Stockton) I became acquainted with a
Kentucky hunter who told me the story of his experiences of the day
previous. He said:

"I came to the place where you stayed last night, yesterday morning, and
was told that there were a number of bears in the neighborhood, and that
no one dared to hunt them. I remarked that that was my business, and I
would take a hand at it; I strapped on my revolvers and knife,
shouldered my Kentucky rifle and started out. I had not gone more than
half a mile, when I discovered one of the animals I was in search of,
and away my bullet sped striking him in the hip. I made for a tree and
he made for me! I won the race by stopping on the topmost branch, while
he howled at the base; while reloading my rifle I heard an answer to his
wailing for me or for his companion - it didn't matter which. Very soon
a second cry came from another direction, and still one more from the
third point of the compass. By this time one had reached the tree and I
fired killing him. Hastily reloading, I was just in time to fire as the
second one responded to the first one's howl; he fell dead; then the
third arrived and shared the same fate. Having allowed the first one to
live as a decoy, his turn came last; then I descended and looked over my
work - four full-grown bears lay dead at my feet."

To corroborate this statement I will say that I saw one of them on the
hooks in front of a butcher shop in Stockton, and the other three went
to San Francisco on the same boat that I did. I met the hunter on the
street about a week later and he told me that he realized seven hundred
dollars for his bears. I do not make the statement as a bear story, but
as a bare fact.



Life In the Mines.

The preceding pages were written about twenty years ago, and only
covered about one and one-half years after leaving the Green Mountains
of old Vermont. Since which time, I have experienced nearly all of the
vicissitudes of the State to the present time (1913). I will now attempt
to give an account of my stewardship from that time on. I date my
arrival in the State, Weaverville, about three miles below Hangtown (now
Placerville), September 10th, 1849. This was where I did my first
mining, which was not, much of a success, on account of my weak
condition caused by my having the so-called "land scurvy," brought on
from a want of vegetable food, and I left for Sacramento City where I
remained for a week or two and then left and went to Grass Valley. There
I made a little money, and went to Sacramento City and bought two wagon
loads of goods, went back to Grass Valley and started a hotel, ran it a
few weeks, and the first thing I knew I was "busted."

It is now in the winter of '49 and '50 and I went to Sacramento again,
and from Sacramento to Beal's Bar on the North Fork of the American
River at the junction of the North and South Forks. By this time I had
gained my strength so that I was more like myself, and I bought a
rocker, pick, shovel and pan and went into the gulches for gold. I had
fairly good luck until spring. By this time I had laid by a few hundred
dollars, and I joined a company of thirty to turn the South Fork of the
American River into the North Fork, by so doing we expected to drain
about one-fourth of a mile of the bed of the South Fork. The banks of
the river were rich and everything went to show that the bed of the
river was very rich, and we went to work with great hopes of a big
harvest of gold. The first thing we did was to build a dam, and dig a
canal, which we accomplished in about four months. About this time snow
and rain came on in the mountains, raised the water in the river and
washed away part of our dam. It was now too late to build again that
season.

Now you see the hopes and disappointments of the miner. While we were at
work on the canal we had occasion to blast some boulders that were in
our way. We had a blacksmith to sharpen the picks and drills who had a
portable forge on the point of land between the two rivers. When we were
ready to blast the rock we gave him timely warning, he paid no heed, the
blast went off, and a portion of a boulder weighing about 500 pounds
went directly for his forge and within about six inches of his legs and
went on over into the North Fork. The man turned about and hollered to
the boys in the canal "I surrender."

About this time the river had risen to such an extent that it was
thought advisable to suspend operations until the next spring. This was
a dividing of the roads, and each member had to look out for himself. I
went to Mokelumne Hill, staked out some claims and went to work to sink
a shaft through the lava to bedrock. The lava on the surface is very
hard, but grows softer as you go down. While I was thus banging away
with my pick and not making much headway, there came along a Mr.
Ferguson from San Francisco, on a mule. He stopped and looked at me a
minute and then said, "Young man, how deep do you expect to go before
you reach bedrock?" I said, "About 65 or 75 feet." "Well," said he, "by
-  you have got more pluck than any man I ever saw." He went on and so
did I, and I have not seen him since. It took me about two weeks to get
so that I could not throw the dirt to the surface, then I had to make a
windlass, get a tub and rope, and hire a man to help me at eight dollars
a day, and 50 cents a point for sharpening picks. These things completed
and in operation, I was able to make two or three feet per day, and we
finally reached the bedrock at a depth of 97 feet. The last two feet in
the bottom of the shaft I saved for washing, and had to haul it about
one mile to water. I washed it out and realized 3 1/2 ounces of very
coarse gold. Now we were on the bedrock and the next thing to do was to
start three drifts in as many directions. This called for two more men
to work the drifts, and a man with his team to haul the dirt to the
water, while I stood at the windless and watched both ends. This went on
for one week. When I washed out my dirt, paid off my help and other
expenses, I had two dollars and a half for myself.

About this time I was feeling a little blue and I gave directions for
each man in the drifts to start drifts to the left at the end of each
drift. This was done, and we went on for another week as before, and
this time I came out about one hundred dollars ahead. About this time a
couple of miners came along and offered me thirteen hundred dollars for
my claim, and I sold it, took the dust and went to Sacramento and sent
it to my father in Vermont. That paid up for all the money that I had
borrowed, and made things quite easy at home.

Now, I am mining again with cradle, pick, shovel and pan in gulches, on
the flats, in the river and on the banks, with miner's luck, up and
down, most of the time down. However, "pluck" was always the watchword
with me. I floated some of the time in water, some of the time in the
air, some of the time on dry land, it did not make much difference with
me at that time where I was. I was at home wherever night overtook me.
But finally I got tired of that and began to look about and think of
home and "the girl I left behind me."



Home Again. Married. Return to California.

In the spring of '52 I left San Francisco on the steamer "Independence"
via the "Nicaragua route" for New York, arrived there in course of a
month, and took train for Boston, where I found my father from Vermont
with a carload of horses. This was clover for me. We remained there a
week or ten days, then left for home. The "girl I left behind" was a
Vermont lady but was visiting a sister in Cincinnati, Ohio. In the
spring of 1853 I went on to Ohio to see the "girl I left behind me," and
married the "girl I had left behind me." We then went to Vermont, where
we remained until the year of 1854. In the summer of this year I had the
second attack of the "California fever." I called in Dr. Hichman and he
diagnosed my case, and pronounced it fatal, and said there was no
medicine known to science that would help me, that I must go, so I took
the "girl I left behind me" and started for San Francisco.



Vigilance Committee of 1865.

On my return to San Francisco it did not take me long to discover that
the city was wide open to all sorts of crime from murder, to petty
theft. In a very short time I became interested in the Pacific Iron
Works, and paid very little attention to what else was going on around
me until the spring of '56. Here was a poise of the scales, corruption
and murder on one side, with honesty and good government on the other.
Which shall be the balance of power, the first or the last?

On May 14th, 1856, James King, editor of the "Evening Bulletin," was
shot by Jas. P. Casey on the corner of Washington and Montgomery
streets. He lingered along for a few days and died. This was too much
for the people and proved the entering wedge for a second vigilance
committee. During the first 36 hours after the shooting there were 2,600
names enrolled on the committee's books. Of that number, I am proud to
say, I was the 96th member, and the membership increased until it
amounted to over 7,000.



Shooting of Gen. Richardson.

I will first relate a crime that had happened the November previous
(November 17, 1855), in which Charles Cora had shot and killed General
William H. Richardson, United States Marshal for the Northern District
of California. These men had a quarrel on the evening of November 17th,
1855, between 6 and 7 o'clock, which resulted in the death of General
Richardson by being shot dead on the spot in front of Fox & O'Connor's
store on Clay street, between Montgomery and Leidesdorff streets, by
Cora. Shortly after this Cora was arrested and placed in custody of the
City Marshal. There was talk of lynching, but no resort was had to
violence. Mr. Samuel Brannan delivered an exciting speech, and
resolutions were declared to have the law enforced in this trial.
General Richardson was a brave and honorable man, and beloved by all. He
was about 33 years of age, a native of Washington, D. C., and married.
Cora was confined in the County jail. We will now leave this case in the
mind of the reader and take it up later on.



Shooting of James King, of William.

On May 14th, 1856, the city was thrown into a great excitement by an
attempt to assassinate James King, of William, editor of the "Evening
Bulletin," by James P. Casey, editor of the "Sunday Times." Both Casey
and King indulged in editorials of a nature that caused much personal
enmity, and in one of the issues of the "Bulletin" King reproduced
articles from the New York papers showing Casey up as having once been
sentenced to Sing Sing. Casey took offense at the articles, and about 5
o'clock in the afternoon, at the corner of Montgomery and Washington
streets, intercepted King who was on his way home, drew a revolver,
saying, "Draw and defend yourself," and shot him through the left breast
near the armpit. Mr. King exclaimed, "I am shot," and reeling, was
caught up and carried to the Pacific Express office on the corner Casey
was quickly locked up in the station house[1].

Immediately following the shooting large crowds filled the streets in
the neighborhood anxious to hang to the nearest lamp post the
perpetrator of the crime. Casey was immediately removed to the County
jail for safer keeping. Here crowds again congregated, demanding the
turning over to them of Casey and threatening violence if denied. Mayor
Van Ness and others addressed them in efforts to let the law take its
course but the crowd which had been swelled into a seething mass,
remonstrated, citing the shooting of Marshal Richardson, and demanding
Cora, his assassin, that he, too, might be hanged.

Military aid was called to the defense of the jail and its prisoners and
after a while the multitude dispersed, leaving all quiet.



Casey and Cora Turned Over to Vigilance Committee.

Sunday, May 18th, a deputation of the Committee was delegated to call at
the door of the jail and request the Sheriff to deliver up the prisoner,
Casey. Upon arriving at the door three raps were made. Sheriff Scannell
appeared. The delegation desired him to handcuff the prisoner and
deliver him at the door. Without hesitation, the Sheriff repaired to the
cell of Casey and informed him of the request of the Vigilantes. The
Sheriff, after going through some preliminaries, brought the prisoner to
the front door of the jail and delivered him into the hands of the
Committee. My company was stationed directly across the street lined up
on the sidewalk. Immediately in front of us was a small brass cannon,
which a detachment had shortly before secured from the store of
Macondray & Co. It was the field piece of the First California Guard. It
was loaded, and alongside was the lighted match, and all was in
readiness should any resistance be offered. Other companies were
stationed so as to command the entire surroundings. We marched from the
general headquarters of the Committee at 41 Sacramento street (Fort
Gunnybags), one block from the water front, up that street to
Montgomery, thence to Pacific and along Kearny to the jail, which was
situated on the north side of Broadway, between Kearny and Dupont
streets. Other companies came via Stockton and Dupont streets[2].

Casey was then ironed and escorted to a coach in waiting and, at his
request, Mr. North took a seat beside him; Wm. T. Coleman and Miers F.
Truett also riding in the same conveyance. Another conference was held
with the Sheriff, requesting the prisoner, Charles Cora, who had
murdered General Richardson, to be turned over to the Committee.
Scannell declined and asked time to consider. The Committee gave the
Sheriff one hour in which to decide. In less than half that time the
Sheriff appeared at the door of the jail and turned Cora over to the
Committee. The Committee reached the rooms on Sacramento street about 2
o'clock. Casey was placed under guard in a room above headquarters. Cora
was also removed to the Committee's rooms in the same manner as Casey,
the Committee having to go back to the jail for the second time. About
three hundred men remained on guard at the Committee rooms after their
removal there.



Fort Gunnybags.

Our headquarters and committee rooms were at the wholesale liquor house
of Truett & Jones, No. 41 Sacramento street, about a block from the
water front, and embraced the block bounded by Sacramento, California,
Front and Davis streets, and covered by brick buildings two stories
high. The name "Fort Gunnybags" was ascribed to it on account of the
gunnybags filled with sand which we piled up in a wall some six feet
through and about ten feet high. This barricade was about twenty feet
from the building. Guards were stationed at the passageways through it
as well as at the stairs and Committee by the members of the Monumental
Fire Engine Company No. 6, stationed on the west side of Brenham Place,
opposite the "Plaza." Our small field pieces and arms were kept on the
ground floor, and the cells, executive chamber and other departments
were on the second floor.

May 19th found Mr. King still suffering from his wound, but no great
alarm was felt as to his condition.



Death of James King, of William.

May 20th Mr. King's condition took a turn for the worse, and at 12
o'clock he was sinking rapidly, being weakened from the probing and
dressing of the wound. He passed away. Sorrow and grief were shown by
all. He left a widow and six children. He was born in Georgetown, D. C.,
and was only 34 years old.



Trial of Casey and Cora.

Casey and Cora were held for trial May 20th, having been supplied with
attorneys and given every opportunity to plead their cases. The
Committee sat all night and took no recess until the next morning when
the trials were ended. The verdict of "guilty of murder" was found in
each case and they were ordered to be executed Friday, May 23rd, at 12
o'clock noon.	While the trial was going on Mr. King passed away[3].



Hanging of Casey and Cora.

The Committee, for fear that an attempt might be made to rescue Casey
and Cora, arranged their companies, which numbered three thousand men
and two field pieces, cleared the streets in the immediate vicinity and
had had constructed a platform from out of the two front windows. These
platforms were hinged, the outer ends being held up by cords which were
fastened to a projecting beam of the roof, to which a rope had been
adjusted for the purpose of hanging.

Arabella Ryan or Belle Cora was united in marriage to Charles Cora just
before the execution.

About one o'clock both Casey and Cora, who had their arms tied behind
them, were brought to the platform and with firm steps stepped out upon
them. Casey addressed a few remarks, declaring that he was no murderer,
and weakened at the thought of his dear old mother. He almost fainted as
the noose was placed around his neck. Cora, to the contrary, said
nothing, and stood unmoved while Casey was talking, and apparently
unconcerned. The signal was given at twenty minutes past one o'clock and
the cord cut, letting the bodies drop six feet. They hung for fifty-five
minutes and were cut down and turned over to the Coroner. We, the rank
and file of the Vigilance Committee, were immediately afterwards drawn
up in a line on Sacramento street, reviewed and dismissed after stacking
our arms in the Committee room, taking up our pursuits again as private
citizens[4].



Yankee Sullivan.

James (or Yankee) Sullivan, whose real name was Francis Murray, had been
taken by the Vigilance Committee and was then (May 20th, 1856), in
confinement in the rooms of the Committee. He was very pugilistic and
had taken an active part in ballot-box frauds in the several elections
just previous. He had been promised leniency by the Committee and
assured a safe exit from the country, but he was fearful of being
murdered by the others to be exiled at the same time. He experienced a
horrible dream, going through the formality and execution of hanging. He
called for a glass of water, which was given him by the guard, who at
the same time endeavored to cheer him up, and when breakfast was taken
him at 8 o'clock that morning he was found dead in his bed, he having
made an incision with a common table knife in his left arm near the
elbow, cutting to the bone and severing two large arteries[5].



"Law and Order" Party.

On the 2nd of June, 1856, Governor J. Neely Johnson having declared the
city of San Francisco to be in a state of insurrection, issued orders to
Wm. T. Sherman to enroll as militia, companies of 150 men of the highest
standard and to have them report to him, Sherman, for duty. The response
was light and the order looked upon as a joke and little or no stock
taken in it. So on the 7th Sherman tendered his resignation as Major
General, claiming that no plan of action could be determined upon
between himself and the Governor. The action taken by the Governor in
this move was by virtue of the constitution of the State, his duty to
enforce the execution of the laws, he claiming that the Vigilance
Committee had no right to arm and act without respect to the State laws.



Terry and Hopkins Affair.

On the 2nd of June, 1856, the city was in great excitement at an attempt
by David S. Terry to stab Sterling A. Hopkins, a member of the
Committee. Terry was one of the judges of the Supreme Court. Hopkins and
a posse were arresting one Rube Maloney when set upon by Terry. Hopkins
was taken to Engine House No. 12 where Dr. R. Beverley Cole examined and
cared for his wound which was four inches deep and caused considerable
hemorrhage. The blade struck Hopkins near the collar bone and severed
parts of the left carotid artery and penetrated the gullet. Terry and
Maloney at once fled to the armory of the "Law and Order Party" on the
corner of Jackson and Dupont streets. The alarm was at once sounded on
the bell at Fort Gunnybags and in less than fifteen minutes armed
details were dispatched to and surrounded the headquarters of the "Law
and Order Party" where Terry had taken refuge, and in less than half an
hour had complete control of the situation, and by 4:15 o'clock in the
afternoon Terry and Maloney and the others found there had been taken to
the Committee rooms as well as the arms (a stand of 300, muskets) and
ammunition. About 150 "Law and Order" men together with about 250
muskets were also taken from the California Exchange. Several other
places were raided and stripped of their stands of arms.

Terry was held by the Vigilance Committee until August 7th and charged
with attempt to murder. Mr. Hopkins recovered and Terry, after a fair
and impartial trial, was discharged from custody, though many were
dissatisfied at his dismissal and claimed that he should have been held.
Terry was requested to resign and resigned his position as judge of the
Supreme Court.



Duel Between Terry and Broderick.

In 1859 Judge Terry had an altercation with United States Senator Daniel
C. Broderick which caused the former to challenge the latter to a duel.
This duel which was with pistols was fought September 13, 1859, near
Lake Merced, near the present site of the Ocean House. It resulted in
Broderick's death, whose last words were, "They killed me because I was
opposed to a corrupt administration, and the extension of slavery."
Terry was indicted for his duel with Broderick, as it came in conflict
with the State laws. The case was transferred to another county, Marin,
and there dismissed. During the Civil War Terry joined the Confederate
forces, attained the rank of Brigadier-General, and was wounded at the
Battle of Chickamauga. At the close of the conflict he repaired to
California and in 1869 located at Stockton and resumed the practice of
the legal profession. Some years later he became advocate for a lady who
was one of the principals in a noted divorce suit. Subsequently she
became his wife. Legal contention arising from the first marriage caused
her to appear before the Circuit Court held in Oakland, over which
Stephen J. Field, Associate justice of the United States Supreme Court,
presided.



Terry and Field, Shooting of Terry.

In open court the justice proceeded to read the decision. As he
continued, the tenor was manifestly unfavorable to Mrs. Terry. She
suddenly arose and interrupted the reading by violently upbraiding
Field. He ordered her removal from the judicial chamber. She resisted,
and Terry coming to his wife's assistance, drew a knife and assaulted
the bailiffs. He was disarmed, and together with his wife, overpowered
and secured. The court of three judges sentenced Mrs. Terry to one
month, and her husband to six months imprisonment, which they served in
full. Justice Field returned to Washington, and the next year in
fulfillment of his official requirements came again to California. He
had been informed that Terry uttered threats of violence against his
person, and therefore he was accompanied by a man employed by the
Government to act in the capacity of body-guard. On the journey from Los
Angeles to San Francisco, Field and his companion, with other
passengers, left the train to lunch at Lathrop. Terry and his wife, who
had boarded the cars en route, also left the cars and shortly afterwards
entered the same restaurant. A few minutes later Terry arose from his
seat, walked directly back of Field and slapped or struck the venerable
justice on the face, while he was seated. Nagle, the guard who attended
Field, leaped to his feet and shot Terry twice. Terry fell and died
instantly. This event occurred on the 15th day of August, 1889, not
quite thirty years from the time he shot Broderick.



Hetherington and Randall.

On the evening of July 24, 1856, the Vigilance Committee had another
case on their hands which called for immediate action.

Joseph Hetherington, a well-known desperate character with a previous
record, picked a quarrel with Dr. Randal in the lobby of the Nicholas
Hotel. They both drew their revolvers and shot: after the second report
the doctor dropped and Hetherington, stooping, shot again, striking the
prostrate form in the head, rendering the victim almost unconscious. He
died the next morning.

The shooting was brought about through Randal's inability to repay money
borrowed from Hetherington on a mortgage on real estate.

Hetherington, who was captured by the police, had been turned over to
the Committee by whom he was tried, the Committee going into session
immediately after the shooting, found him guilty of murder and sentenced
him to be hanged.

We were again called out on the 29th and were stationed so as to command
the situation. This time a gallows was erected on Davis street, between
Sacramento and Commercial.

Another man, Philander Brace by name, was also to be hanged at the same
time, and at about 5:30 in the afternoon of July 29th they were both
conveyed in carriages, strongly guarded, to the execution grounds.
Hetherington had previously proclaimed his innocence, claiming that the
Doctor had shot first and he had simply shot in self-defense, but his
previous record was bad, he having killed a Doctor Baldwin in 1853 and
had run a gambling joint on Long Wharf, and eye witnesses claimed that
he not only provoked but shot first.

Brace was of a different nature, he was a hardened criminal of a low
type. The charge against him being the killing of Captain J. B. West
about a year previous, out in the Mission, and of murdering his
accomplice. He had also confessed to numerous other crimes.



Hanging of Hetherington and Brace.

Thousands of people were on the house-tops and in windows and on every
available spot from which a view of the gallows was to be had. The
prisoners mounted the scaffold, being accompanied by three Vigilance
Committee officers who acted as executioners and a Rev. Mr. Thomas.
After the noose had been adjusted, Hetherington addressed the crowd,
claiming to be innocent, and ready to meet his Maker. Brace, every once
in a while, interrupted him, using terrible and vulgar language. The
caps were adjusted, the ropes cut and the two dropped into eternity.
They were left hanging 40 minutes, after which the bodies were removed
by the Committee to their rooms and afterwards turned over to the
Coroner. They were both young men - Hetherington 35, a native of
England, had been in California since 1850, while Brace was but 21, a
native of Onandaigua County, N. Y.



Ballot Box Stuffing.

The ballot boxes that had been used by Casey and his ilk were of a
peculiar construction, having false slides on the sides and bottoms that
could be slipped out and thereby letting enough spurious votes drop into
the box to insure the election of their man or men. It was claimed that
nearly the entire set of municipal officers then holding office had
secured their election through this man. They were afterwards requested
by the Vigilance Committee to resign their offices, but at the first
election that was held on November 4th, they were all displaced by men
selected by a new party (the People's party) that was the outcome of the
efforts of the Vigilance Committee.



Billy Mulligan.

William Mulligan was shipped out of the State on the steamer "Golden
Age" on June 5th, 1856, with instructions never to return under penalty
of death. However, after three or four years of absence he returned to
San Francisco. He was often seen on the street, but was not molested
until sometime in the summer of 1862 when he got a crowd of boys around
him on the crossing of Prospect Place and Clay street, between Powell
and Mason streets. It was not long before he had trouble with them and
shot into the crowd, injuring a boy, however, not seriously. The police
were soon on the ground, but Mulligan had made his way into the old St.
Francis Hotel on the corner of Clay and Dupont streets which was vacant
at that time. The police came and they were directed to the building
where Billy could be found. When the police entered they found they were
half a story below the floor of a very large room in the second story.
Billy was called upon to surrender. He told them that the first one that
put his head above the floor would be a dead man, and knowing the
desperate character they were dealing with, they thought best to retire
and get instruction from the City Attorney, who told them they had a
right to take him dead or alive, whereupon they proceeded to arm
themselves with rifles and stationed themselves on the second floor of a
building on the opposite side of the street from the St. Francis on
Dupont street, and when Mulligan was passing one of the windows the
police fired. Mulligan dropped to the floor, dead as a door nail. He was
turned over to the Coroner and has not been seen on the streets since.
Charles P. Duane is another one of twenty-seven men who were shipped out
of the State and returned. He shot a man named Ross on Merchant street,
near Kearny. I do not remember whether the man lived or died, or what
became of Duane.



Black List.

 From the book entitled "San Francisco Vigilance Committee of '56," by F.
W. Smith, I quote the following, with some corrections and alterations:

"I am informed by an ex-Vigilante that the Committee roll call of '56,
just before its disbandment, numbered between eight and nine thousand.

In concluding our history of this society, we will give the names and
penalties inflicted on those who came under its eye during the latter
year; whose conduct was so irreparably bad that it could not be excused.

Those who suffered the death penalty did so in expiation for lives they
had taken. The names of these culprits are familiar to the reader. We
also give the names of those who were required to leave the State; all
of whom, in the archives of the Vigilantes, fall under the head of the
black list:"

James P. Casey, executed May 22nd, 1856.
Charles Cora, executed May 22nd, 1856.
Joseph Hetherington, executed July 29th, 1856.
Philander Brace, executed July 29th, 1856.
Yankee Sullivan (Francis Murray), suicided May 31st, 1856.
Chas. P. Duane, shipped on "Golden Age," June 5th, 1856.
William Mulligan, shipped on "Golden Age," June 5th, 1856.
Wooley Kearney, shipped on "Golden Age," June 5th, 1856.
Bill Carr, sent to Sandwich Islands, June 5th, 1856, bark "Yankee."
Martin Gallagher, sent to Sandwich Island, June 5th, 1856, bark
      "Yankee."
Edward Bulger, sent to Sandwich Islands, June 5th, 1856, bark "Yankee."
Peter Wightman, ran away about June 1st, 1856.
Ned McGowan, ran away about June 1st, 1856.
John Crow, left on "Sonora," June 20th, 1856.
Bill Lewis. shipped on "Sierra Nevada," - June 20th, 1856.
Terrence Kelley, shipped on "Sierra Nevada," June 20, 1856.
John Lowler, shipped on "Sierra Nevada," June 20th, 1856.
William Hamilton, shipped on "Sierra Nevada," June 20th, 1856.
James Cusick, ordered to leave but refused to go, and fled into the
      interior.
James Hennessey, ordered to leave, but fled to the interior.
T. B. Cunningham, shipped July 5th, 1856, on "John L. Stephens."
Alex. H. Purple, shipped July 5th, 1856, on "John L. Stephens."
Torn Mulloy, shipped July 5th, 18,56, on "John L. Stephens."
Lewis Mahoney, shipped July 5, 1856, on "John L. Stephen,."
J. R. Maloney, shipped July 5th, 1856, on "John L. Stephens."
Dan'l Aldrich, shipped July 5th, 1856, on "John L. Stephens."
James White, Shipped July 21st, 1856, on "Golden Age."
James Burke, alias "Activity," shipped July 21st, 1856, on "Golden Age."
Wm. F. McLean, shipped July 21st, 1856, on "Golden Age."
Abraham Kraft, shipped July 21st, 1856, on "Golden Age."
John Stephens, shipped September 5, 1856, on "Golden Age."
James Thompson, alias "Liverpool Jack," shipped September 5, 1856, on
      "Golden Age."

Many others either left of their own volition or under orders to leave
the state.

Bulger and Gallagher who had been shipped out of the country on June 5th
returned to San Francisco. In their haste the Committee had failed to
read their sentences to them and they were not aware of the penalty of
returning. They were again shipped out of the country and ordered not to
return under penalty of death.

There were 489 persons killed during the first 10 months of 1856. Six of
these were hanged by the Sheriff, and forty-six by the mobs, and the
balance were killed by various means by the lawless element.



"Fort Gunnybags" 1903.

On March 21, 1903, the California Historic Landmarks League placed a
bronze tablet on the face of the building at 215 Sacramento street that
had formerly been the headquarters of the Vigilance Committee of 1856,
inscribed as follows: "Fort Gunnybags was situated on this spot,
headquarters of the Vigilance Committee in the year 1856." Many of the
old Committee and Pioneers participated in the ceremonies. The old
Monumental bell which had been used those stirring days was also in
evidence and pealed out its last "call to arms."



Closing Chapter of Vigilance Committee.

As a closing chapter to the history of the Vigilance Committee of 1856,
or at least the immediate cause of its coming into existence, there was
sold at public auction in San Francisco on the evening of January 14th,
1913, the very papers that James King, of William, had had transcribed
from the records in New York and published in his paper the "Evening
Bulletin" showing the record of Casey's indictment, imprisonment and
pardon, the publication of which he, Casey, resented by shooting King.
In addition to these documents were sold many of the books, papers,
etc., of as well as other books and papers relating to the Vigilance
Committee that had been collected together by Mr. C. J. King, a son of
James King of William.



Vigilance Committee Work In 1849, '50 and '51.

While there has been a great deal said about the Vigilance Committee in
California in 1856, there has not been much said about it in '49, '50
and '51. That the reader may know what was going on up to that time, I
must now draw largely from previously published accounts for my
information, for a condensed statement.

On the 30th day of January, 1847, Mr. Washington A. Bartlet became the
first Alcalde of San Francisco, under the American flag. At this time
the population numbered 500, including Indians. During '47 and '48 it
increased to two thousand, and by the last of July, 1849, it was over
five thousand. The condition of the town at this time was terribly
demoralized, gambling, drunkenness and fights on every corner. About
this this came a class of offscourings of other countries and the curses
to California. It was during this dreadful state of uncertainty that the
famous Vigilance Committee of 1851 was organized, and it now became
known that there was an organized committee for the purpose of dealing
with criminals. It was about this time the case of John Jenkins came up
and he was arrested and tried by the Committee, and condemned to be
hanged. He was then hanged until he was dead. The tragic fate of
Jenkins, and the determination manifested to deal severely with the
villains had the effect of frightening many away. The steamers to
Stockton and Sacramento were crowded with the flying rascals. The Sydney
Coves and the more desperate characters remained. At this, time the city
served notices on all persons known to be vicious characters to leave
the city at once, on fear of being forcibly expelled to the places
whence they had come. This was rigidly enforced and had a very wholesome
effect.

The next one to come before the Committee was James Stuart, who was
transported from England to Australia for forgery. It is not worth while
to go into details on account of this man, for he confessed to crimes
enough to hang him a dozen times. On the morning of July 11th, 1851, the
taps on the bell of the Monumental Engine House summoned the entire
Vigilance Committee. The prisoner was then allowed two hours grace,
during which time the Rev. Dr. Mills was closeted with him in communion.
After the expiration of the two hours, the condemned was led forth under
a strong guard. He was taken down Battery street to the end of the
Market street wharf, where everything had been previously arranged for
the execution. Very soon after the procession reached the spot the fatal
rope was adjusted and the condemned hoisted up by a derrick.

The hanging of Stuart seems to have been a very bungling piece of work,
but this man's life was given to evil doing, and the great number of
crimes confessed and committed by him would seem to say that he was not
deserving of any more sympathy than which he got. This was a sorry
spectacle, a human being dying like a dog, but necessity, which dared
not trust itself to feelings of compassion, commanded the deed, and
unprofitable sentiment sunk abashed.

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 the 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
The Project Gutenberg Etext of California 1849-1913
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End of California 1849-1913
by L.H. Wooley

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