Martin Johnson,
published author, historian, columnist, and reporter, has been on
staff since March 2004. Martin has 60 years of entrepreneur
experience, and 10 years experience in an advertising agency. His
column Legends of the Gold Country are factual accounts of
life in Calaveras County and surrounding areas before and during
the gold rush era. He has appeared before local Rotary clubs to
talk about his column and share tales of this colorful gold rush
history.
Martin brings this era alive again
in his column 'Legends of the Gold Country' in the Gold Country
Times newspaper. Editor's Note: Author Red Johnson has published his
newest book, Murder in the Gold Country, Hacalitas Gang's Raid on
Rancheria. Visit
www.redjohnsonenterprises.com to order his books online.
Henry Plumer's
True Story is Back! Part 6
Henry Plumer's
True Story is Back! Part 5
Henry Plumer's
True Story is Back! Part 4
Cowboy Mounted Shooting, World Championship, June 2007, Founder's
Ranch, New Mexico
William Henry Plumer, San Francisco, So Close, Yet So Far Away,
Chapter 6, Part 4
William Henry Plumer, San Francisco, So Close, Yet So Far Away,
Chapter 6, Part 3
William Henry Plumer, San Francisco, So Close, Yet So Far Away,
Chapter 6, Part 2
William Henry Plumer, San Francisco, So Close, Yet So Far Away,
Chapter 6
William Henry Plumer, A True Story, His ship has come in! Chapter 5
continued
William Henry Plumer, A True Story, His ship has come in! Chapter 5
William Henry Plumer, A True Story, His ship has come in! Chapter
4
William Henry Plumer, A True Story, His ship has come in! Chapter 3
William Henry Plumer, A True Story, His ship has come in! Chapter
2
Henry Amos Plumer, A true story -- "Go West Young Man - Go West!"
Chapter I, Which Way To California
Murder in the Gold Country
The last Hacaletas gang member found at Gopher Flat, and the
aftermath of the Raid on Rancheria
Murder in the Gold Country, Sheriff Phoenix's Killer Must Be Found, Part IX
Joaquin Murrieta in the
Gold Country
Henry Plummer, Chapter 7
Henry thanked his new
acquaintance for all the information, and began walking down the
gang plank to the roughly put-together dock. It consisted of tree
trucks and slap boards. On the levee was a man in a carriage and a
sign "2 bits". Henry had promised himself he would save enough
money in San Francisco to arrive in first class to his new home.
Sacramento City wasn’t exactly his new home, but it was the gateway
to the gold fields. Henry waved his hand at the gentleman, who
immediately hopped down from his carriage and helped Henry with his carpet bags.
"Where to, sir?" the driver asked politely. "Sutter Hotel, sir.
Thank you for your assistance with the bags". Henry replied. "Would
you be liking a ride to the Grand Palace later, sir? It is a sight
to be seen. There is nothing like it in America; heck, maybe even
Europe. I’d just look if I were you, though."
"No, I think not. I want to keep my grubstake awhile." Henry said
sincerely. "I do understand that, sir. That is how I ended giving
up taxi. I am going to save up enough to outfit myself in Sam
Brannan’s place and head out to make another fortune. You see, I
had $8,000 dust when I arrived here in Sacramento City from the
northern mines. I hit it big. Every miner in the country envied me.
I was going to book myself back to the States on the first schooner
for San Francisco. I made the mistake of not just looking at the
Grand Palace. In one night, I lost the whole $8,000.00. All I had
left was my clothes and one horse and carriage."
"Sutter Hotel, Sir. Good luck in your venture to wealth. I can
testify it feels mighty good to hit it big, mighty good!", he said
as he hopped down with Henry’s baggage, and placed it on the
boardwalk in front of the Sutter Hotel. "Thank you! I will remember
your story, Sir. Good luck to your finding your second fortune."
Henry checked into his hotel and made arrangements for the morning
stage to Nevada City, via Rough & Ready and Grass Valley.
It
was early in the morning, the sun just rising over the Sierra
Nevada Mountains to the east. The air had a chill to it, and there
wasn’t a cloud in the sky. Henry thought of what his Maine country
side would look like this time of the year. No question about it,
there would be snow everywhere. Muddy, slushy roads and a
northerner could hit with no notice. The wind blowing across a
thousand miles of ice before reaching Maine. It would
send the temperatures
low enough to freeze a man’s breath. This California winter was
like a summer day in Maine.
The California Stage was full and with only one passenger destined
for Rough & Ready, all others were heading for Henry’s new home
town. Due to his health, he knew California would be his new home.
His lungs felt better already. Henry felt at home when he looked
over the coach. It was a Concord! A beautiful coach, and known as
the best in the world. One of the other passengers noticed Henry
looking at every detail of the coach, and commented: "A beautiful
lady, isn’t she?" "Yes, that she is, and a New Englander lady, at
that", Henry replied. "What part of New England are you from,
sir?", the stranger asked politely.
"Addison, Washington County, Maine", Henry replied. "You would have
seen her a lot back there; heck, I guess they are all over the
world now, huh?", the man volunteered. "Abbott, Downing & Company
began making these beauties in 1813", Henry said as he stroked the
stage's body and continued with a detailed description of her
construction. "This body is made from New England ash. The flooring
is from New England poplar trees. All the metal is of Norwegian
iron shipped from Norway. Those wheels are also of ash and so
carefully selected for their purpose they are known as the best
wheel in the world" Henry squatted and pointed beneath the carriage
body, and said, "There is the secret of her great ride, and
endurance.
To Be
Continued
Henry Plumer's
True Story is Back!
Part 6
Last month: The land between the levee and Front Street was busy,
but Front Street could only be described as chaotic. All sorts of
horse and mule-drawn vehicles were crowding the rutted street.
George volunteered some facts about the new city as they
approached.
"Henry, I’ve been here since this was a tent village. The growth
has been amazing. They just took a count for the upcoming official
census. Sacramento City has 9,087 people. That’s more than the rest
of all California combined, including San Francisco. They estimate
150,000 tons of freight for this year alone (actual for the 1852-53
period was 165,000 tons). When I arrived here there wasn’t 2000
people. That’s over four hundred percent growth in two years! We’ve
had major floods, fires, and general chaos, and it still grows. The
tents have been replaced by multi-story solid buildings. There is a
merchants joke that if it floods again arrive by boat to the second
floor, and business will be as usual. Nothing stops business in
Sacramento City".
"Have you heard anything about Nevada City?" Henry inquired. It
seemed no matter how much was spoken about other mining towns,
Henry felt drawn to Nevada City. He couldn’t learn enough about it.
"Well, my friend said that it too has grown enormously. I’ve read
that the whole town burnt down and was built again. The newspapers
have talked about all the different types of mining going on there.
They do Coyote holes, placer, and now hard rock mining. Large
deposits of quartz with gold in it have been discovered in the
area. You’re quite anxious to get there, aren’t you? asked George.
"Yes, I am! Nothing else has been on my mind for almost a year. I
have a very lucky feeling about the area. I guess that’s silly to
think, but it is the way I feel", Henry concluded. "Follow those
feelings, Henry. Most of the men I know that struck it big had a
premonition it was going to happen. Chicken or the egg, but there
is nothing wrong with having a dream. Dreams come true in
California. I will say the smart ones seem to know if their luck’s
running out two minutes before it does. That’s the secret to being
a good miner. Everything is timing and luck. Did you hear about the
man in Mokelumne Hill in Calaveras country?" "No", responded Henry.
"What happened?" George thought a second: "I want to get this
right", "A man arrived at the Big Bar on the Mokelumne River. The
bar was very crowded. All possible areas for a claim were taken,
and no one was leaving their claim. About two hundred men were
working the Big Bar, and all were making better than a day’s wages,
some were getting rich, well, at least in the 16 to 20 dollars a
day in dust.
The man was patient, but no one was leaving their claim. He knew
little of mining. Finally, just before he was going to leave and
prospect up-river, he decided to dig a hole in the side of the
hill. The dirt didn’t look promising at all to the other miners.
Just clay and ordinary dirt, but that was the only place no one
else was mining.
The fellow dug about two feet into the hill and struck a boulder,
at least what he thought was a boulder. It was a twenty-four pound
high-grade gold nugget! Some geologist was lecturing miners in
Mokelumne Hill at the time, and said "...that was proof gold is
where you find it!" "24 pound nugget! At a high of twenty dollars
an ounce, that’s $7,680, and at a low of sixteen dollars an ounce,
that’s $6,144." He made that much for digging two feet of dirt?"
Henry exclaimed. "That’s right, digging two feet of dirt. Then I
have personally seen miners dig a hundred feet into a side of a
mountain and not cover their expenses. Gold is where you find it!"
To be Continued
Back to Top
Henry Plumer's
True Story is Back!
Part 5
Last month we ended
with Henry getting some good advice from George H. Johnson. Mr.
Johnson was a passenger with Henry on a schooner heading for
Sacramento City. Henry would lay over there and then pick up a
stage to Nevada City. "Thank you! I will stay at The Sutter Hotel.
One thing I have noticed about most pioneers I have met, such as
you, Sir, is that they are very helpful". Henry said sincerely. "We
all have been where you’re at, and know the feeling of being in a
new country. Also, there is no place on earth like California,
none! Just be careful of those who make their living fleecing
newcomers, and there are plenty of them", George warned. Henry slid
his over coat back and revealed his cross-draw 51’, 36 caliber Colt
pistol: "I won’t hesitate to reduce the population of such bad
characters". George was somewhat surprised, "I believe you! I, (and
he paused) really do believe you!" Looking into Henry’s cold grey
blue eyes, he saw a man who meant exactly what he said. The
statement was not one from a braggart, but from a man who would
kill in an instant, if provoked.
George’s new acquaintance was not large in stature, but had a
confidence about him. He stood only five foot eight inches tall,
but had the confidence of a man twice his size. It went beyond the
gun on his side, which George was sure he could use professionally;
it was a quiet confidence that said he was a leader. Although, he
saw a young man, George could imagine Henry leading a company of
Calvary men in a charge. It was a clear day and one could see the
Sierras to the east and coastal range to the west. Occasionally, a
small herd of elk would appear near the river bank. "Are you
staying long in Sacramento City?" George asked. "I hadn’t planned
on itI stayed in San Francisco long enough to build a good
yearning to get to
mining, if you know what I mean?" Henry replied.
"I
know exactly what you mean. I worked Hangtown before deciding I
just wasn’t that good a miner. "George confessed. The schooner
finally approached Sacramento City. What a sight! Freighters were
lined up to deliver their goods. Most were tied up to docks that
were perpendicular, and some horizontal to the levee shore line.
Several were tied up to each other waiting their turn to unload.
The levee was higher than the open land between the docks and Front
Street. Large ramps allowed the freight to be delivered to trader
wagons below and on the levee. If the trader was not there when the
freighter docked and unloaded its freight; the goods would be left
on the inside of the levee. Perishables would rot quickly leaving a
horrible odor
along the docks. Rotting sardines were especially offensive.
The land between the levee and Front Street was busy, but Front
Street could only be described as chaotic. All sorts of horse and
mule drawn vehicles were crowding the rutted street. George
volunteered some facts about the new city as they approached.
"Henry, I’ve been here since this was a tent village. The growth
has been amazing. They just took a count for the upcoming official
census. Sacramento City has 9,087 people.
To Be Continued
Back to Top
Henry Plumer's
True Story is Back!
Part 4
In
June I left Henry Plumer in San Francisco earning more money for
his prospecting in the gold fields. He also was gathering
intelligence on where to prospect for the best possible return on
his effort and investment. Henry ran into a sea captain of one of
the steamers transporting Argonauts from Panama to San Francisco.
His name was William C. Ralston (He did not know that he was
meeting the future founder of the Bank of California, which with a
few partners was capitalized with $ 3,000,000 paid up cash in
United States coins. The Bank of California would purchase the
Chollar Mine in Virginia City and extract $18,000,000 from the
same. He was said to be San Francisco’s all time, number one mover
and shaker, or better put, the man who built San Francisco).
Captain Ralston liked Henry and advised him to look at long-term
returns on his efforts. The gold would run out someday, and it
would be wise for him to establish himself in a trade or profession
that would provide a living for years to come. Billy Ralston said:
"Henry, when I was your age I was working river boats on the
Mississippi. The Irish side of me wanted to spend all that I made
in every port. The Scotch side said save every penny I made, it
would be worth ten fold in a few years. I’m glad the Scotch side
won out in that battle of my money. Today I make more than ninety
percent of the Argonauts I haul to the gold fields. Well, maybe a
few more have made as much, but I know none that have held on to
it".
Henry’s education led him to believe there were more opportunities
for him in business and politics than in washing gold pans. Yet,
his youth drove him with the feeling of the slight chance of
getting rich, really rich in mining. Henry boarded the Sacramento
City bound schooner at the Embarcadero docks located at the bay
terminus of Montgomery Street. It would travel to Sacramento, via
Benicia and the Sacramento River.
Finally he was on his way to the gold fields. It was his turn to
strike it rich. Every bone in his body said he would be successful.
After dropping off (and taking on) passengers at Benicia, the
schooner navigated the delta to the mouth of the Sacramento River.
It seemed amazing that the captain could
even find the mouth
among all the tributaries of the Delta, but once found it was
enormous. You had to think how could anyone miss it, and yet miss
it they did, all the time. Going through the delta a passenger
pointed out the beaver.
Another knowledgeable passenger noted that there was a lot less
beavers than only a few years earlier. The Hudson Bay Company had
hunted the beaver almost to extinction in the delta. At the same
time, Captain Sutter had hired several former Hudson Bay men to
hunt beavers in order to pay off his debts to Sunol. There weren’t
enough beavers left to cover expenses and the hunting finally
stopped.
The gentleman introduced himself as George H. Johnson, owner of
Dagurerrean Gallery in Sacramento City. He was one of the first to
set up tin-type photographic machinery in Sacramento. "Well, Henry,
I’ve done a brisk business and I have two competitors right down
the street from me. Another friend of mine went to Nevada City and
he is doing well too. You’ll see him there; tell him I said hello.
His name is also Henry, Henry Dyer", George requested.
"I’ll do that". Henry responded. George added, "I’ve done some
speculating in San Francisco, and I’ll be moving my studio there
soon. If you need a tin type in Sacramento City, Charles King is on
K Street, and Beal’s Dagurerrean Gallery is on 'J' Street.
Both men are professionals, and do fine work". Henry replied, "I’ve
heard of that, but I’ve not had a tin type taken of me, and I
probably won’t. Can’t say why, but just doesn’t appeal to me. I
will keep your good advice in mind, Sir". George volunteered, "If
you stay over in Sacramento, there’s John S. Fowler’s The City
Hotel on Front Street, and the new Oriental Hotel is next door to
Haworth, Ellis & Co Wagons & Blacksmith Shop. You can’t miss it;
there are always a half dozen used wagons for sale out front".
"Both are first class Hotels and still reasonable, if there is such
a thing. Oh, yes, I almost forgot The Sutter Hotel. It’s on Front
Street, too. You may want to stay there to pick up James Birch’s
California Stage Company’s stage to Nevada City. He is the only one
I know that has an express run to Grass Valley & Nevada City.
Also, if you are in need of drugs, R.H. McDonald’s Miners drug and
Polhemus Drug are on J Street; they do most of the drug business in
this country. All are within walking distance of each other."
"Thank you! I will stay at The Sutter Hotel. One thing I have
noticed about most pioneers I have met, such as you, Sir, is that
they are very helpful". Henry said sincerely. To Be Continued
Back to Top
Cowboy Mounted Shooting, World Championship,
June 2007, Founder's Ranch, New Mexico
It all started back in April, 2007 when I got the idea to attend
the the Single Action Shooting Society's World Championship shoot
at Founder's Ranch, New Mexico. That was it, just attend. Then the
thought came to me: "Heck, I can shoot and I can ride a horse,
maybe I could practice a little and they would allow me to
participate in the Mounted Action Shooting contests. It sounded
like it could be a lot of fun.
Not to
embarrass myself too much, I set up a course of fire in my arena
and tried several of my horses to determine which would be best.
Pebbles! No question about it. The shooting off her back did not
bother her one bit. Well, one small problem was that she had a 3
1/2 month old filly. That may not work. Asking around, I was told
if I brought the filly with me to New Mexico, the mare should do
fine.
I began the preparations: Pebbles was
checked by the Vet and all was good. An old pro at long-hauling
horses told me to give Pebbles and her baby electrolyte before the
trip (going & coming back); it would induce them to drink water on
the trip. Another trick given to me was to put a small bar of salt
lick in the trailer food sack.
I practiced four times to get the hang of Mounted
Shooting. There is a lot more to it than meets the eye. Approach a
gate too fast and it will cost you ten seconds at least. Do the run
down too slow and time is lost; but go too fast and you may not
re-cock the single action 45 caliber pistol in time for the next
target (I learned that the hard way). The 45-caliber pistol is
required. I paid my entry fees and making my final arrangements for
the trip when a bomb was dropped by the SASS director of Mounted
Shooting: Founder's ranch is at 7,400 ft. elevation. Wow! That was
competitive horseback riding at Donner Summit! I can hardly walk at
that elevation (I have COPD). Well, I decided I better get a
doctor's check-up myself.
My
doctor made a statement then asked a question: "If you want to be
safe; stay home. If this is a life experience, go for it". I
responded, "It is a life experience; I'm going for it". He then
said to arrive a couple days early and do absolutely nothing, rest
and acclimate to the elevation. We had to cross the Mojave,
Arizona, and New Mexico deserts in the summer-time, and it
was going to take us
three days. I looked for horse hotels and found a kind man that
owns the Castle Rock bar and Grill in Kingman, Arizona at the end
of our second day. We hydrated the horses well during the trip, but
the mare was losing weight fast, anyway. It was perplexing. We
arrived at Founder's Ranch at midnight; the next morning I had to
attend (remember-do nothing for two days...ha ha, no way) a
qualifying round to be able to participate in the actual
com-petition. I had traveled a thousand miles through three
deserts, so to heck with acclimating. I qualified, but my mare was
struggling with the altitude and the weight loss. I made the
decision to de-camp and go home. As I put her and the baby in a
stall, a man approached me and introduced himself as El Paso Bob.
He said: "I always bring an extra horse. If you want to borrow him
for the entire match, go ahead". Wow! I was not going to ask any
questions (never look a gift horse in the mouth). He volunteered:
"He is only 4 years- old and has never done Mounted Shooting,
...put the spurs to him and he wants to do what you want. He is a
good 4 year-old."
Well, let me tell you, that horse "Big Red", a 15.1 hand sorrel
gelding did a great job! He stopped at a gate or two trying to
figure out what his dumb rider was trying to do, but other than
that, he flew through the designated course. Cowboy Mounted
Shooting is a test of horse, horsemanship, and shooting skills.
Then throw in the mental part of the game: what angle shoot you
approach a gate, or just how fast can you make a turn and gun
change. You have 10 targets, five shells in each pistol, therefore
requiring a gun change on a galloping horse. It is all about time.
Well, big Red and I made 2nd place World Champion Senior Division
1. Thanks to a man named El Paso Bob who always brings an extra
horse. To Be Continued
Back to Top
William Henry Plumer, San Francisco, So Close, Yet So Far Away,
Chapter 6, Part 4
Last month: Henry’s heavy New England accent always gave away where
he was from, at least from the stand point of a general
geographical area. The man said that he would advise Henry to find
someone else from Maine and partner with him &/or them. Few men had
family to help defend them in times of need, but many belonged to
"companies" formed of similar background and geographic areas in
"the states" (East of the Mississippi River).
Men in California were pretty much the law unto themselves. The
only protection beyond your own abilities and weapons would be your
"company". Henry carried a 51’ colt six shot revolver in a cross
draw on his belt. The stranger suggested to him to also carry a
Bowie knife. Henry responded that he knew how to use the revolver
pretty good, and didn’t know the proper
handling of the big
knife. The stranger decided to test his young new friend: "Ok, see
that rock on top of the boulder over there?" The stranger had
hardly finished his question and Henry had drawn his pistol and his
bullet struck the rock in the blink of an eye.
"You are good with a pistol!" the man instantly replied. "Very
good!" "My father was a sea Captain, and told me that my only
insurance of a long life in a country like California would be with
Samuel Colt as my partner". The stranger responded, "Your father
was a wise man. If prospecting doesn’t work out for you, Nevada
could use a good lawman. Many lawmen make more than those doing the
back breaking work of mining".
"How is that possible?" Henry quickly asked. "Well, first of all
they earn a percentage of past due property taxes collected, and of
the Foreign Miner’s taxes collected. They also receive a fee for
capture and jailing of criminals, and usually are reimbursed for
their expenses". The stranger concluded with pulling his vest back
and exposing his constable’s badge. "You see, I have firsthand
experience with such things". Henry responded with a grin and
replied, "I thought you might". The two strangers, who still had
not introduced themselves, said their salutations and went their
separate ways. Henry headed back to his room.
Henry grew more anxious by the day. All he had learned said to
prospect near Nevada City. Winter was not the time to travel,
and/or prospect. He had set his time line and would stick with it.
It took all the self discipline he could muster up to honor the
commitment he had made to himself. He settled into a routine of
long hours of work, and was fortunate to have a short walk to his
rooming house.
His spare time became more and more consumed by reading all the
local newspapers. They ran stories from all the mining districts.
Of course, they also covered the national, state and local
political scene. Each time a story written about Nevada City was
read, he became more, and more anxious to move on. In 51’ almost
the entire town had burned down, and was completely rebuilt in
short order. Henry read that twelve of the new buildings burned
again in the fall of 52’.
All over the gold country, towns burnt to the ground and would be
rebuilt almost overnight. That meant there was still a lot gold in
those hills. To Be Continued
Back to Top
William Henry Plumer, San Francisco, So Close, Yet So Far Away,
Chapter 6, Part 3
Henry gave himself a time line of early 53’ to head for the gold
fields. By that time, he could bankroll expense money, and enough
to grub-stake a claim in the spring. Talking to as many people as
he could, it seemed that Todd’s advice to head for Nevada (Nevada
City) was pretty good advice. The latest strikes there seem to have
yielded excellent returns. Individuals were still doing very well.
Many had formed companies sharing in the expense and profits.
Henry was near the Presidio when a local told him
the story of how Fremont had disabled the cannons, took over the
then small village of Yerba Buena, and held California as American
property. Previously, Fremont had taken over Sutter’s Fort on the
American River near the convergence of the Sacramento River,
changed the name to Fort Sacramento, and left a lieutenant in
charge while he conquered the rest of California for the United
States. Captain Sutter became a prisoner in his own fort. It did
not take the young Lieutenant long to put Captain Sutter second in
command. He and he alone knew how to motivate the Indian workers,
and rougher element of tradesmen at the fort. If the fort was to
function, Captain Sutter had to have some authority. Besides all
that, the young Lt. really liked John Sutter. Most who met Captain
Sutter liked him. He was a very generous man and remained
officially neutral in the Mexican-American war. If fact, he favored
the Americans, although treated badly by their pathfinder Fremont.
Although, Captain Sutter had not personally discovered gold on the
American river; his partner in the lumber mill, George Marshall,
had been the one. Captain Sutter had attempt-ed to keep the
discovery a secret, but that proved to be impossible. The Pioneer’s
Pioneer, as most called Captain Sutter, was ruined by the gold
rush. Henry asked where the Captain was now. The stranger explained
that he was at his Hock Farm off the Feather River near Marysville
in the Northern Mining country. He went on to explain that the new
legislature had voted him as the General of the California Militia.
The old pioneer had a dream come true. He always saw himself as a
successful military man. Many fast-talking men, like Sam Brannan,
had talked and/or swindled the old pioneer out of most his land,
and destroyed his fort, but as a real general, you cannot find a
more happy man.
Henry mentioned what Todd had said about the Northern Mining
country as the best bet for a newcomer. The stranger agreed. He
admitted that he was a merchant in San Francisco, and could not
leave his own gold mine. If he did, he too would head for Nevada
City.
The stranger liked Henry and gave him some straight talk. He
advised him not to buy his goods and tools in San Francisco, but
wait until he reaches his final destination. "Freight is as
expensive as the items you buy here. Individual items of need will
be more expensive in the mining districts from a merchant, but
there is always someone back-tracking, and willing to sell out for
a lot less."
Henry’s heavy New England accent always gave away where he was
from, at least from the stand point of a general geographical area.
The man said that he would advise Henry to find someone else from
Maine and partner with him &/or them. Few men had family to help
defend them in times of need, but many belonged to "companies"
formed of similar background and geographic areas in "the states"
(East of the Mississippi River).
Men in California
were pretty much the law unto themselves. The only protection
beyond your own abilities and weapons would be your "company".
Henry carried a 51’ Colt six-shot revolver in a cross draw on his
belt. The stranger suggested to him to also carry a Bowie knife.
Henry responded that he knew how to use the revolver pretty good,
and didn’t know the proper handling of the big knife. The stranger
decided to test his young new friend: "Ok, see that rock on top of
the boulder over there?" The stranger had hardly finished his
question and Henry had drawn his pistol and his bullet struck the
rock in the blink of an eye. To Be Continued
Back to Top
William Henry Plumer, San Francisco, So Close, Yet So Far Away,
Chapter 6, Part 2
He saw men lose everything they had on a turn of a card, and
others win enough to go home very well off without ever seeing the
gold fields. Did they? Not many. More lost their California seed
money. They became the craftsman and carpenters building the new
city of San Francisco. The good news was they were receiving
exorbitant wages to do so.
He
observed that the professional gambler was regarded as much a
professional as a doctor or attorney. They dressed in their Sunday
best every day, and carried themselves with an air of arrogance.
Many wore the Mexican white shirt, diamond stick pin, fancy vest,
and wide brim hat. Henry liked the way they carried themselves.
They had confidence in their abilities
and displayed a sense
of sophistication of that of a New England "money man" (as they
called the early capitalist).
He
also observed that it was quite deadly to challenge their integrity
by calling one a "cheat". That was one word never to be spoken in
the presence of a professional gambler, especially if directed to
him. After-all, who would "gamble" with a professional cheat? No
one! Therefore, by calling a professional gamble a cheat, one would
be putting him out of business. The professional would have to take
punitive action on the accuser, in a most severe and expeditious
manner. Many carried Colt Pocket pistols (actually made by Brown
Mfg.), single shot, 41 caliber, and easy to conceal.
Another favorite was a Sharps four barrel, 32 caliber pocket
pistol, or a Colt Pocket pistol revolver in the lining pocket of a
vest. Also stuck in their boot, or belt, would be a Mexican dagger
(Spanish design). Most professional gamblers were skilled in the
use of short range weapons. None of these weapons were visible to
the players, so as not to intimidate, or threaten a whiskey filled
miner losing all he had. If the weapons were needed they would
complete their deadly mission, quickly.
He
learned from Todd that San Francisco had more women than any other
place in California. He was also warned to stay away from Sydney
Town. It was home to about 10,000 former prisoners from Sydney,
Australia. They were rough and ready thugs that would steal
anything they could get their hands on, including your life. They
had women working the streets and had pushed into the Chinese
quarters recently. The city was expecting a gang war at any time.
It would be safer for Henry to find a female companion on Market
Street, Portsmouth Square, or even on the floating bars at the
bays’ shore.
Law enforcement was scarce, or at least when one really needed help
there was not an officer in sight, or call. The entire city was
pretty much self-disciplined. Henry quickly learned that the
vigilante committee had put a good scare into the rougher element
of the society of San Francisco. They had hung two Sydney Ducks
that had beat up a popular merchant.
Henry watched with excitement while thousands of dollars in gold
dust passed across the gambling tables. "Wow", he thought, "how
much there had to be in those hills for so much to pass through the
San Francisco dance halls and gambling establishments". Then he
recalled Todd rolling in a butter keg full of gold dust to that
bank. A butter keg! To Be Continued
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William Henry Plumer, San Francisco, So Close, Yet So Far Away,
Chapter 6
In my last column we left off with William Henry Hardy Plumer
(better know as Henry Plumer) in conversation with Todd Alexander.
Todd was explaining how he had become a successful express agent
after finding mining not a successful venture. Henry had arrived in
San Francisco May 20, 1852, and found a room and a job quickly. San
Francisco was at its peak in hustle, bustle, criminal activity and
general lawlessness of the gold rush. The city had several major
fires (set by Sydney Ducks as a diversion to their burglary
activities), and as fast as it burned, new buildings were built.
Henry typified New Englanders of the time. He was cautious,
conservative for a young man, and thought through things before he
acted on anything. The trip to California had taken most of his
money, and he needed to work and save for the remainder of his
journey. He would spend this time in San Francisco learning as much
as he could about the best places to prospect, and how to prospect.
Part of Henry wanted to stop all his common sense thinking, take
what dollars he had and get to the gold fields before all the gold
was gone. Gold fever had struck him directly in the stomach, and he
ached from the intense feeling if he didn’t move now he would be
left out. There would be no gold left to find. Every man destined
to be rich, would be. He would be left shoveling dirt. Then he
thought how much he had learned from Todd in their short time
together. Common sense drifted back into his brain. He must learn
more, and earn some extra dollars to finance his venture.
Everything in California was very expensive, far more so than he
and his family had expected. He had been so lucky to have work and
a place to live within a few blocks of the water front. Henry
settled into his bookkeeping job, which he had a knack for, at 128
Montgomery. His employer liked the fact he found an educated man
that was willing to stay awhile in San Francisco. He had to pay
high wages to keep anyone even a short period of time. Then the
pull of the gold fields would become too great to withstand, and
again he would be left looking for reliable new arrivals looking
for extra spending money.
Henry spent his off hours visiting the saloons and gambling houses,
and San Francisco had quite a few of them. Some new ones were being
built that would rival any in the world. Henry didn’t gamble much,
but enjoyed the company of men that did. They seemed to be free
wheeling souls with a devil-be-damned attitude, and a lust for
life. He saw men lose everything they had on a turn of a card, and
others win enough to go home very well off without ever seeing the
gold fields. Did they? Not many. More lost their California seed
money. They became the craftsman and carpenters building the new
city of San Francisco. The good news was they were receiving
exorbitant wages to do so. To Be Continued
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William Henry Handy Plumer, A true story -- His ship has come in!
Chapter 5 continued
Alex gave a small lecture to Henry to steer him in the right
direction. After all, he may also be one of his customers in the near
future, but his real motivation was to help his new friend. Todd knew well
the hardships of mining. "How did you get in the express business?" Henry
furthered his inquiry. "When I was mining I thought of how badly I wanted to
get mail to and from the states; and to safely carry what gold I did get to
the banks in San Francisco. If I left my claim, and didn’t work it to go to
San Francisco, I would lose it. If you’re not working a good claim, someone
is going to do it.
Claim jumping is a major occupation in the
Mother Lode country. When you’re not there, there is nothing you can do
about it. How can you prove the gold some neighbor got off your claim wasn’t
found on his own. You have to be there, or lose it. I felt the need for a
good express company, and could not take the hard work any more. I knew I
would pay an ounce to read a letter from home, so I started asking around
and everyone said they would do the same". Henry was glued to every word.
His goal was to learn all he could before venturing out into this unknown
land. He was not afraid physically, but just wanted to be sure he started on
the right foot. He was afraid of failure. That was not to be allowed of
himself. He would succeed! Todd went on in detail to describe his enormous
success in the express business:
"When I had collected a long list of names,
and was making my arrangements for my first trip to San Francisco, on
reaching Stockton, some merchants there asked me when I was gong to start my
express business. I told them I was starting the next morning, and they said
they had something to send. I went into Bell’s store to see what it was. He
had a lot of gold dust in boxes and he gave it to me to bring down. I put it
in a butter keg, in different packages, and I delivered it to the firm of
Lord & Co. Here. I charged five percent on the gold dust to bring it down.
After getting my letters, I bought a row boat
to go back to Stockton, and took up sixteen passengers, who paid me an ounce
apiece for passage, and "eat themselves." I was the Captain, and though I
did not know anything of the river, I sat in the stern and steered, and they
rowed. We got there in about twenty-four hours, and that gave me a
reputation. I paid $300 for the boat, and sold her for $500 in Stockton, and
had made a handsome turn with the passengers and freight I carried up.
That’s my start up story". Todd concluded.
"Are you not concerned about highwaymen? That
is a lot of gold to be carrying. "Henry inquired. "No, that has not been a
problem to date. Everyone wants the express man to get through safely. Even
the claim jumpers want their stolen gold deposited safely. If I was
attacked, the highwaymen would be found out quickly and punishment would be
even quicker. Times are changing though, because of the great number of
people arriving every day. That is surely bringing bolder criminals." "I
have formed a new company in Stockton; Reynolds, Todd and Company Express to
handle more express and secure it better than butter kegs. We also need to
compete now with Adams Express Company. Daniel Haskell came here when I did
in 49', but he had some big money behind him. There has always been so much
business, and profits, that we hardly ran into each other. Now, with our
expanding all over the Mother Lode country, we do compete."
"I
must say though, none of that has caused me to lose money. My greatest
losses have come from people I have hired myself. In Stockton, I just had a
clerk rob me of $70,000", Todd volunteered. "$ 70,000! Are you insured for
such a loss?" asked Henry. "Nope! I better be making good money to cover
that loss, and if I don’t, I’m out of business. Reputation is everything in
this business! I took on a partner who invested knowing of the risk. I have
been very lucky. Might even call it charmed, Henry. Yes, my life has been
charmed out here."
"I
know of many who have not found the Mother Lode a good life for them. Some,
well, no matter how hard they try, or how successful they are, they end up
with nothing." Todd continued, "I’m not sure what you’re saying. Are you
saying they made bad decisions?" inquired Henry. "Some did, but that is not
what I’m talking about. I’m talking about good men, some well educated as
you are, that seem to make all the right decisions, and nothing works out
for them." "Miners know exactly what I’m talking about. Lady Luck, fate, or
whatever you want to call her, lives in the Mother Lode. I think she was
born and reared there. Henry, you could do everything right and end up a
Bummer. You have to recognize it if your luck is turning and make a change
quick." Todd advised. To Be Continued
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William Henry Handy Plumer, A true story -- His ship has come in!
Chapter 5
Notice:
Last month our editor changed all the "Henry's" to "Hardy's" in the article.
Henry’s mother always called him Hardy. All modern western novel readers
would know him as Henry Plumer. I take full responsibility for the error.
His full name was William Henry Hardy Plumer. We will just use his most
famous name "Henry Plumer". Now, to continue his true story, he is arriving
in San Francisco harbor.
Approaching
the land for docking, the sight ahead seemed like organized chaos. There
were mules, horses, buggies, wagons, all going somewhere in different
directions at the same time. People seemed to be at double the normal pace
in everything they were doing. It had been over two years since the
discovery of gold by James Marshall at Sutter’s Mill on the South Fork of
the American River. One would think things would have settled down somewhat.
It had not; in fact, the gold rush was at its peak upon Henry’s arrival that
May of 52'. The Golden Gate docked and all passengers disembarked as quickly
as possible. Some fellow passengers had immediate destinations, most were
like Henry; they didn’t have the slightest idea where they would sleep that
night. Henry was fortunate to quickly find a room at 48 Bush St.
His next goal was to find employment to help finance the
next leg of his journey. It would also give him some time to find out the
best area to prospect for his fortune. Again, Lady Luck was on his side and
he found a job as an account clerk at 128 Montgomery Street, not far from
his room.
Henry ventured down to the docks to witness some unloading of cargo. He
may have had in mind a saloon or two also. He was at the corner of Sansome
Street and Clay when he saw a man wrestling with a large butter keg, rolling
it down a ramp off the back of a wagon. The keg very nearly broken, saved by
Henry grabbing at a portion of it to help ease it down to the walk and
preventing it from shattering.
The young man unloading it responded, "Thank you, Sir!
You saved my day, maybe my life. Your name, Sir?" "Henry Plumer and yours?"
"Alexander Todd, Sir." Mr. Todd began to roll the keg toward the firm of
Lord & Co., one of the oldest firms in San Francisco. That seemed strange to
see a huge butter keg being rolled into such an institution. Henry
volunteered to help again. Mr. Todd smiled with an expression like he knew
something that was going to surprise his new friend. Of course, he certainly
did.
As they rolled the butter keg to a receiving clerk, many
eyes became curious. "Well, Well, Mr. Todd. How much butter do you have in
that keg?" asked a clerk. "Um.....about two hundred thousand dollars worth
of butter, Sir" replied Todd. " Oh, excuse me!." Todd left swiftly to return
to the wagon. He returned with several express packages and placed them on
top of the keg. "Now, I have two hundred thousand dollars worth of butter"
declared Alex with a satisfied grin. "Alex, how many customers do you have
now?" asked the clerk. "Two thousand, Sir. I get one once for each letter
delivered, and a commission for delivery of this here butter." Alex and
Henry walked out of the building toward the Post Office. Alex would give his
list to the Postmaster to search out the mail for him to take back to the
gold fields the next day.
For some odd reason, he trusted his new friend and
invited him to have a drink. "That keg was full of gold dust, wasn’t it?"
Henry asked point blank. "Yes, it was. That is my business. I express the
gold dust and mail for a very handsome living." Alex responded. "How long
have you been here?" asked a curious Henry. "I came in 49' "replied Alex.
"You must know where all the good gold findings are. Why are you not
mining?" asked Henry with special interest.
Alex found his new friend easy to talk to about things he
had not told anyone. Henry seemed an honest young man seeking as much
information as he could before heading to the gold fields. Although they had
just met, he felt he knew him all his life. "Well, the truth is, Henry; I
could not handle the work. Mining is the hardest job I ever did. Physically
hard, that is. Yea, it’s true, with a little homework and determination you
can still find a lot of that yeller stuff around. Not for the picking up off
the surface. You have to gather good dirt, sluice with a lot of water, pick
quartz and crush it, and maybe you have a several days pay when you’re
done."
"If you can take the hard work and survive the elements
and get a bit lucky on picking your claim, well you can make a lot of money
in a short time." "Henry, you have arrived at a good time of the year to
start your work." Alex gave a small lecture to Henry to steer him in the
right direction. To Be Continued
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William Henry Handy Plumer, A true story -- His ship has come in!
Chapter 4
Wells, Fargo & Co. was
formed as a joint stock company with 3000 shares of stock at $100.00 per
share. Initial capitalization of $ 300,000.00. The Boards of Directors (and
stock holders) were Henry Wells, William G. Fargo, Johnston Livingston,
Elijah P. Williams, Edwin B. Morgan, Jas. McKay, Alpheus Reynolds, Alex M.
C. Smith , and Henry D. Rice. Edwin B. Morgan was President and James McKay,
Secretary.
The company's founding
'mission statement' was as follows: This company having completed its
organization as above is now ready to undertake the general forwarding
agency and commission business; the purchase and sale of gold dust, bullion
and specie, also packages, parcels and freight of all description in and
between the City of New York and the City of San Francisco, and the
principal cities and towns in California, connecting at New York with the
lines of the American Express Company (The American Express Company was
formed by Henry Wells, William Fargo, and John Butterfield in 1850), the
Harnden Express, Pullen, Virgil & Co European Express. They have established
offices and faithful agents in all the principal cities and towns throughout
the eastern, middle and western states, energetic and faithful messengers
furnished with iron chests for the security of treasure and other valuable
packages accompany each express upon all their lines as well as in
California and in the Atlantic States. 'Advanced notice of the company's
formation in California was published in the Alta California newspaper in
San Francisco. The miners of California were surely impressed with
"messengers furnished with iron chests". By August of ’52, Wells Fargo & Co.
branches were open in Placer County, Sacramento, Benicia, Monterey, and San
Diego. By the end of ‘52, twelve offices were in operation.
In the autumn of 1852,
Henry Wells would make a trip to California to see the operations in the
West first hand. That was the only trip Mr. Wells ever made West. He had to
travel the same route as Handy Plumer; by way of the Isthmus of Panama. For
the rich, famous, intellectual, laborer, business-man, or young man with
great dreams, there was only one fast way to get to the gold fields; the
Isthmus of Panama, and the connecting ships to California. Henry Wells wrote
of his trip: "Thank God the Isthmus is passed and I am alive and kicking but
awful sore and tired. It was a dangerous and difficult trip."
Mr. Wells paid $30 for the
privilege of riding a mule from Cruces to Panama. His letter continued:
"Give me credit of being the first man across the Isthmus in a race of six
hundred and all, or nearly all young men and very many are not in now and
will not be for 24 hours yet. I passed everything on the road." Those words
were also intrinsically prophetic. Henry Wells would pass every other
express company on the roads of California, too. He either purchased the
competition or undercut them and ran them out of business. The result was
the same; Wells, Fargo & Co would be the express company moving the
commission freight from point A to point B in California. Handy Plumer had
survived the Isthmus of Panama too, and after twelve days at sea, he laid
eyes on the entrance to San Francisco bay on May 21, 1852. His excitement
could not have been greater, but he rarely showed any emotion. The sight
brought a smile. His fellow passengers of all walks of life were acting like
school children let out on their first recess. They were jumping and
hollering, and displaying great joy. "San Francisco, San Francisco, the
golden gate to the Mother Lode!", one cried out with joy. No more beautiful
sight could exist to wanna-be mining magnates, and all they could see was
the entrance.
Men observing Handy Plumer
in later years described him as follows: "He stood with confidence, tall,
good looking, sandy hair, blue eyes, and the appearance of a leader. He was
quiet by nature, speaking little and when he did, the words had been thought
out before spoken. He chose his words carefully, and with purpose of mind. A
quiet man, very intelligent and well liked." Most people who met Handy
Plumer liked him at first sight. He was thoughtful of others, and a defender
of a woman's virtue, and honor. He feared no man, and all men knew it. That
unspoken language between men was very clear. This man, Handy Plumer, had no
fear; tread at your own risk. Handy stood near the bow looking ahead as The
Golden Gate sailed into the great harbor. It was a clear day with the sun
dancing across the water. Hundreds of seals were sun bathing on the shore
line rocks to the south. Giant waves crashed against the large rocks
spraying foam fifty feet in the air, but not disturbing the seals at the
least. Ahead were two clearly visible islands, and golden colored mountains
on the east side of the bay. An excited passenger said, "There's the hills
coated in gold!" In fact, many did not know just how far the Mother lode was
from the city of San Francisco.
The excited laughter and
jubilation subsided as the passengers gazed ahead at the most amazing sight
of their lives. A sight they could not have imagined in their wildest
dreams. Hundreds of abandoned ships, dilapidated from disrepair, most with
their upper masts gone, many half sunk near the shore line, many on the
shore line and converted to places of business. There were holes cut in the
hulls for doors, some were merchants, some saloons like the Apollo Saloon;
one had been converted to a bank, and one was a prison. By far, the majority
were just abandoned to the elements. There were so many ships that many
passengers were concerned how the Captain of Golden Gate was going to
maneuver through them to a pier to accommodate disembarkment.
Handy studied the mountains
surrounding the town of San Francisco. There were several hills that led
down to a muddy flat area crowded with tents and small buildings. Up the
hills were some taller buildings, but most of the town seemed to be under
construction, and with what seemed to be hundreds of half finished
buildings. The town was becoming a city with hundreds of saloons,
restaurants, gambling houses, and, of course, houses of ill repute.
Buildings similar to the financial district in New York were mostly
completed and centered around the "Square". Those were the larger buildings
Henry saw entering the bay. Below and east were many rooming houses. A
knowledgeable passenger volunteered an explanation of all the half completed
buildings. He informed Handy that the entire town had burned to the ground
during Christmas of '49. It was quite amazing how many multi-story large
buildings had been completed, and the town grown many times the size it was
in only two years.
To Be
Continued
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William Henry Handy Plumer, A true story -- His ship Has Come In!
Chapter 3
"The ship
is in! The Golden Gate has arrived!" Someone was yelling at the top of their
lungs. Henry must hurry to the ship; he had inquired, before leaving New
York, about how many passengers The Golden Gate could hold. The agent
chuckled as he gave him the answer: "Seven hundred and fifty, plus or minus
a few, but since 'forty nine' we have overbooked every ship. The Golden Gate
will have over a thousand aboard." Where do the overbooked people sleep?"
Henry had asked with concern. "On the deck. Bring warm clothes, and clothes
to keep you dry", replied the ticketing agent, and he continued with, "That
Pacific Ocean can get mighty wet and cold when she caps her waves, and gives
you a salt water shower as you’re trying to get sleep. That ocean is nothing
like the Atlantic. We get some big storms, but that Pacific Ocean can have
waves the size of houses for no good reason at all. You picked the best time
to travel it, but there ain't no guarantee she won't beat you near to death
before you reach San Francisco." He concluded with a tip of his hat.
Henry was
determined to get an inside sleeper compartment, and that he did. He brought
food and fruit for the journey. It was well hidden. Many did not, and
suffered greatly for the lack of planning. One crewman died a few days out
from 'congestion of the brain', and one passenger died from dysentery; even
with a stop in the ancient port of Acapulco for water, fruits, and food. The
trip north to San Francisco was not a pleasure cruise, but a good indication
of what was to come in California. Specifically, survival of the fittest.
Other than the lungs, Henry was very fit. He worked hard to keep himself in
above average condition. He refused to allow tuberculosis to slow him down.
His father had taught him how to shoot pistol and rifle. He had mastered the
pistol.
This gave
him great confidence that would follow him the rest of his life. No man
could match his speed and accuracy with a pistol, and if he did; it would
not do him any good. Henry would have killed his opponent even if his
opponent had shot him. He was very fast and accurate.
Now, he had
another edge in a gun fight; he had no fear of death. He was going to die
young anyway, a little sooner wouldn’t make much difference to him. Henry
was a quiet young man. He did not look for trouble, but he never backed down
from it. He did not talk much at all, but his actions were well thought out.
The Golden
Gate pounded through the huge Pacific waves with a strong head wind, and a
very sick passenger list. Most had never been to sea. They were a determined
group, and looked at this as a small price to pay for becoming wealthy.
Henry Plumer and the many other individuals aboard these over-crowded ships
were not the only entities heading to the gold fields of California.
Three
months before Henry took passage on The Golden Gate, a group of men had met
at the Astor House in New York City and formed a company they named Wells,
Fargo and Company. It happened on March 18,1852 and it would change the West
forever, and make a major impact on our young country. The company's actual
beginning started in the back room of a bookstore in Syracuse, New York and
consisted of the ideas then created by Henry Wells of Auburn and William G.
Fargo of Pomprey Hill, near Syracuse. Advance men were aboard ship and one
month later, June 27, 1852, Samuel P. Carter arrived in San Francisco on the
S.S. Oregon, and two weeks later Reuben Washburn arrived on the Tennessee.
These two men had been selected by the Directors of Wells, Fargo & Co. to be
the principle agents in California.
To Be Continued
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William Henry Hardy Plumer, A true story -- The Wait in Panama
Chapter 2
Last Month: Col. Mason
had to rush to Monterey for the signing of the Treaty of Guadalupe Hidalgo,
ending the war between Mexico and the United States. He needed to send a
messenger to President Polk. It must be considered that a single messenger
may not make it through. He and his trusted Lt. William Tecumseh Sherman
came up with a plan.
They would
send three messengers with gold samples. One with his official report to the
President. One with a copy of it, and one with just the gold and the
extraordinary story of the gold discovery. There would not be time for a
third copy. The official messenger was Lt Lucian Loesser who left for
Washington on August 30, 1848. The first to leave with just the gold was
U.S. Navy Lt. Edward Fitzgerald (Ned) Beale who left July 27, 1848. Another
messenger was a man more famous at that time than anyone else; Christopher
"Kit" Carson who would carry gold, and a copy of Brannan's California Star
newspaper, declaring the discovery of gold, and letters. He would take the
Santa Fe Trail. He stopped in Santa Fe on his way to his home in Taos. The
local paper reported that he said "...nothing of importance to report". The
understatement of the century. He probably didn't want his home town
becoming a ghost town. Lt. Loesser traveled the Isthmus of Panama. He
probably stayed at the same hotel as Henry, with the report that would
change the known world, and the lives of hundreds of thousands of people.
Lt. Beale
traveled across Mexico. He crossed the Sierra Madre Mountains to Mexico
City, and from Mexico City to Vera Cruz. It would be six hundred miles of
bandit country. He disguised himself as a Mexican and escaped danger several
times. Arriving in Vera Cruz, he boarded a U.S. Navy war ship bound for
Mobile, Alabama. First to arrive in Washington was "Kit" Carson on August 2,
1848. Amazingly, all the eastern papers took the story as a 'puff' story, or
another tall tale from a famous western adventurer. No one took it
seriously. It wasn't until August 19 that any newspaper (The New York
Herald) mentioned the discovery of gold in California, and then it was
buried in an article on numerous metal resources, so the average reader
would never have found it.
Lt. Beale
arrived in Washington September 16, 1848. It took him two days to be granted
an audience with President James K. Polk. On September 18, he gave President
Polk the gold sample, told him of Col. Mason's message, and his personal
observations. Amazingly, President Polk seemed not to believe Lt. Beale. He
dismissed him, and did nothing with the information he had brought him.
Col.
Mason's second courier arrived November 22, 1848. He carried a copy of the
official report which he presented to President Polk. It read: "At the
Mormon diggings, the hill sides were thickly strewn with canvas tents and
brush arbors. A store was erected, and several boarding shanties in
operation. The day was intensely hot, yet about two hundred men were at work
in the full glare of the sun, washing for gold, some with tin pans, some
with closely-woven Indian baskets, but the greater part had a rude machine
known as a cradle. The gold in the Mormon diggings is in fine bright scales,
of which I (have) sent several specimens. Mr. Marshall guided me up the
mountain, on the opposite or north bank of the South Fork (of the American
River), where in the beds of small streams, or ravines, now dry, a great
deal of coarse gold has been found. I saw several parties at work there, all
of whom were doing very well. (On Weber's Creek) I found a great many people
and Indians, some engaged in the bed of the stream, and others in the small
side valleys that put into it. These later were exceedingly rich, and two
ounces were considered an ordinary yield for a day's work. A small gutter,
not more than a hundred yards long by four feet wide and two or three feet
deep, was pointed out to me as the one where two men a short time before
obtained in seven days $17,000 worth of gold (Authors note: gold was
calculated by Col. Mason at $16 an ounce). Another small ravine...(had
yielded) $12,000 worth of gold. Hundreds of similar ravines, to all
appearances, are as yet untouched...An agent of Commodore Stockton had been
at work about three weeks...and showed me...over $2,000.00 worth of gold;
and Mr. Lyman (who had worked below Sutter's sawmill) reported that his
share was at the rate of fifty dollars a day; but hearing that others were
doing better at Weber's place, (he and his party) had removed there.. (Mr.
Dye of Monterey said that his party) worked seven weeks and two days and
that their gross product was 273 pounds of gold. A soldier (returning from
furlough had) made a sum of money (in a week) greater than he received in
pay, clothes, and rations during a whole enlistment of five years."
Now
President Polk had to believe the story. He announced to Congress on
December 5, 1848, the great discovery of gold in California. Two days later,
on December 7, Lt. Loesser arrived with the original and official letter
from Col. Mason. He also carried the gold nugget found by James Wilson
Marshall at Sutter's saw mill on the South Fork of the American River. Henry
Amos Plumer was fifteen years old when Marshall found that nugget. He would
spend the next two years finishing his education and reading everything he
could on gold, and California. There was no doubt in his mind California was
the best place for a young man looking to make a success of his own labor
and risk in this world.
The
adventure of it all was tantalizing to his soul, but the reality was that
there would be many J.P. Morgans self-made in California. He was going to be
one of them. The doctor's bad news had just accelerated what he had wanted
to do for a long time. It also brought the unbridled support of his family.
Now, he thought, if he wasn't going to live long, he would live well. To Be Continued
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Henry Amos Plumer, A true story -- "Go West Young Man - Go West!"
Chapter I, Which Way To California
"Henry, you have tuberculosis." His doctor’s words rang
as a death sentence to young Henry Plumer. "How long do I have?" asked the
fearful nineteen-year old. "I don't know. I can tell you, Henry, it will be
longer if you live in a better climate than here in New England. I have read
letters from people with your condition living out west that say their
condition actually got better out there".
Henry had read about the discovery of gold in California.
If he was going to die young, he would live as well as he could. He would go
to California! His first major decision as a young adult was to choose which
route to use to get to the gold fields. Adventurous pioneers were using
three different routes in great numbers. Henry thought things through before
he acted. He was not impulsive. His parents supported whatever decision he
would make. One route was by land, or the "overland" route of the California
and Oregon trails. This was probably the most popular. A report from Fort
Laramie, Wyoming, dated June 16, 1849 stated that 32,000 men, women, and
children had passed the fort on their way to California gold fields.
The wagon trains were formed at several Missouri towns;
St. Louis, St. Joseph, and Independence, Missouri. The cost would be a
covered wagon, six oxen or mules, supplies to last out 100 days, clothes for
all weather conditions, guns and ammunition to protect life
and obtain game, and two pairs of boots, as you would walk more than ride.
There were so many wagon trains crossing the plains that one could see the
one ahead of them and the one behind them most of the time. Universally, the
overland pioneers began their trip believing Indian "savages" as their
greatest fear of the journey. With only a few exceptions, i.e. the Bannack Indians of
the Utah Territory, Indians left the pioneers to their travels. The greatest
dangers came from their own misjudgments, accidental discharge of their
firearms, weather conditions, and poor health.
The second route was by ship around Cape Horn, and up the
coast of South America to San Francisco, California. Hundreds of Stock
Companies were formed to purchase ships, hire crews, and transport the
companies' paid-up members to the gold fields. The logic was that when gold
was found by a member, he could store it in the ship’s vault for
transportation back east. If no gold was found, money could be made
transporting and selling merchandise to the ones that were finding gold. It
was a no-lose situation.
In Boston alone, one hundred such companies were formed
in one year. The cost was not for the average gold seeker. Ships were
expensive to build, and crews were well paid to round the Horn. All educated
people knew that was the most dangerous stretch of ocean in the known world.
Another alternative would be to just buy passage on a passenger ship headed
around the horn. Charles Francis Adams, Jr., Grandson of John Quincy Adams,
and great grandson of Johns Adams, the sixth and second Presidents of the
United States of America respectively, booked passage on the Orb at a cost
of $1000.00. The two biggest drawbacks of this route was the danger, and
second, the time it took to get to the gold fields. The Orb took seven
months to reach their destination. The Apollo left New York on January 16,
1849, and took nine months to arrive in San Francisco.
Captain and Mrs. Bates left Baltimore, Maryland, July 27,
1850, on their own ship, the Nonantum. They had only six passengers but it
was loaded with fifty tons of freight and coal. En route, their ship caught
fire. The passengers and crew barely made it to shore in the Falkland
Islands. They were rescued by the Humayoon, a month later. The Humayoon did
not make it far when it caught fire.
The Bates were not stranded as long this time as they
were rescued by a ship named the Fanchon. They boarded the ship with a pet
goat and small carpet, all that was left of their possessions. The Fanchon
made it around the Horn safely and was near the Galapagos Islands when the
unthinkable happened. While celebrating Christmas, ... ...they smelled the
now all too familiar smell of burning coal. They made it to the coast of
Peru at the small village of Valparaiso, and the Fanchon burned to the water
line at shore. They were stranded there for two months before the ship
Republic offered to rescue them, for a price, of course. The price? Their
pet goat to be eaten by their crew, and $1200.00 cash.
Mrs. Bates had been so frightened that she had dressed
like a man her entire stay in Valparaiso. The Bates had no choice but to
accept the offer, and they arrived in San Francisco with only their dream
left. Their arrival had been ten months after leaving Baltimore in their own
ship with a wealthy cargo. The third choice was very attractive to Henry
Plumer. He was young and anxious to get to California. Time was now very
important to Henry. He did not know how much of it he had left. The third
choice was the Isthmus of Panama. It too had dangers, arguably the most
dangerous of the three choices, but it would take only eight to ten days at
sea from New York to reach the Charges River on the Caribbean side of the
Isthmus of Panama. There he would board a small steam boat for a trip of
seventeen miles up the Charges. Then, he would transfer to a small, native
flat-bottom boat that would slither through the crocodile-invested waters,
while monkeys screamed their alarm calls throughout the jungle. The native
guide would sing "Oh Susannah", to entertain his passengers. Arriving at
Gorgona, he would no longer have the sense of security the boats and the
singing guide provided. Now, he would have to mount a mule and make the
longest four-day ride of his life. The rain forest will be so dense, he
won't be able to see ten feet into the jungle on either side of his mule.
Clouds of mosquitoes so thick that he won't be able to see the ground
beneath him.
Some things would be left to fate. The mosquitoes and
fleas carried cholera, malaria, and dysentery. One 49er had reported
counting forty dead mules and horses during his crossing. Henry made his
decision. He would take the far more dangerous, but faster, route, the
Isthmus of Panama. It took Henry's ship only eight days at sea to arrive at
Aspinwall in Navy Bay. Henry had read about the tropics, but this was the
real thing! He had been fortunate to have had a good education. He always
excelled in what he put his mind to. This trip would be the greatest
challenge of his nineteen years of life in New England.
The ship's passengers were a melting pot of people from
all over the eastern seaboard. There existed serious tension between
pro-slave and no-slave state's members, but all came together in cheer at
the sight of palm trees, and chattering monkeys. They had arrived at their
first destination. The hardest stretch of his journey was the four days
riding on the back of that mule, and the swatting off of thousands of
mosquito’s as he seemed to inch his way through the jungle. That was the
longest forty-eight miles of travel in Henry's life. The humidity was not good for his lungs and most of the
trip he struggled to breath. The air was heavy and he did everything he
could not to disclose his condition. To do so would mean immediate
isolation. He was young, strong, and determined. Then, there it was, Panama!
To Be Continued
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Top
Murder in the Gold Country
The last Hacaletas gang member found at Gopher Flat, and the
aftermath of the Raid on Rancheria
Last month we ended with Sheriff Clark and his posse
leaving the southern mines. All leads for any remaining Hacaletas Gang
members had gone cold. In Sutter Creek, a Committee of Safety (Vigilantes)
was formed and up to sixty Mexicans rounded up from Gopher Flat (an elevated
meadow northeast of Sutter Creek on Gopher Flat road).
A Mexican they had learned was part of the Hacaletas Gang
was nowhere to be found in the group. Members of the Committee went back to
Gopher Flat for a second look around. They were about to give up when one
man noticed a large pile of ironed clothes laying on a bed. Looking under
the bed, there was their man. He was immediately dragged out of his shanty.
Two wagons were pulled together. Lifting their long wagon
tongs, tying them together, and locking their wheels formed a large sturdy
'A' frame. Completed, they quickly hung the Hacaletas gang member identified
by Manuel Garcia. Miners traveled Dry Creek to the Ione Valley and attacked
Hacaletas itself, but all the Mexicans left were Peons. They did find out
that all the Mexicans involved directly, or indirectly had left the county.
Returning to the Drytown area, they searched One Mile
Gulch (where they had turned the Indians loose to kill "all the Mexicans
they found". Only one later was identified as one of the Hacaletas gang. All
the others were Peons and ordinary Mexican miners innocent of any crimes).
The miners entered the gulch and the site would disgust
the hardest of them. They found dead bodies scattered all over One Mile
Gulch. Some dead were in holes, mining shafts, or springs where they crawled
after being wounded. Hogs were all over the gulch, devouring bodies of the
slain. It appeared a lot more were killed than the eight reported by the
Indians. Unfortunately for history, an accurate body count was not taken. We
know they reported eight killed, but many had to have died from their
wounds, others would have been carried off by their relatives. In any case,
they had paid a terrible price for the crimes of their countrymen.
The miners' thirst for revenge had finally been
satisfied, but at a horrific price; paid by people that had nothing to do
with the raid on Rancheria. They only shared the same color skin and
language. The raid had not been committed by Mexican Peons, but by vaqueros,
caballeros, horse thieves, gamblers, and murderers. The only good that came
of their sacrifice was that Amador County would end mob violence forever.
The hanging tree in Jackson would never be used again. In the aftermath, and
years later, very few would be proud of their involvement in the retaliation
to the raid on Rancheria. The final actual and probable death count during
the raid on Rancheria by the Hacaletas Gang, the aftermath involving
officials, and mob violence was as follows:
Factual deaths:
Fourteen (14) known innocent people died.
1 - Sheriff William Phoenix
6 - Rancheria Camp victims
Mrs. Dynan
Dan Hutchinson
Sam Wilson
Mr. Francis
Unidentified American
Miwok Indian
8 - Mexicans reported killed by
The Miwok Indians in One Mile Gulch
Thirteen (13) Hacaletas gang members and/or supporters
killed:
3 - Hung in Rancheria
1 - Chili Flat hill side
3 - killed at Salvada by posse
1 - killed at ranch near Algerine
1 - killed by Miwok Indians
3 - hung on Jackson's tree
1 - Hung in Gopher Flat
Total known deaths--27
Probably another five or six died in One Mile Gulch, or
at other locations, as a result of wounds received during massacre in One
Mile Gulch. The $ 20,000 in gold was never found. These events would
directly, or indirectly change the gold country forever. Not that crime
stopped, it certainly did not, but how the criminal would be hunted,
arrested, and prosecuted changed forever.
It would be done through the laws of the land. The courts
and juries would decide the fate of criminals. San Quentin would become
full. Also, from these events and times would rise the greatest lawmen the
"old west" would produce, i.e. Sheriff Charles A. Clark, Deputy (and later
Sheriff) Benjamin Kent Thorn (44 years a lawman), Robert (Bob) Paul (later
U.S. Marshall) and Pina County, Arizona Sheriff. The End.
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Murder in the Gold Country, Sheriff Phoenix's Killer Must Be Found, Part IX
The officers were astonished to discover that the killer
of Sheriff William Phoenix, although shot several times and hit in the head
with an axe, had actually crawled away during the general gun fight, and
escaped. He must be found. Deputy George Durham informed Sheriff Clark that
his dead friend and Sheriff was a Free Mason, and that they needed to bring
him to Sonora where he could receive the last rites as a Free Mason.
They left immediately for Sonora. Arriving before dawn,
the Grand Master of the Sonora Free Mason Lodge took charge of Sheriff
William Phoenix's body. He assured the officers he would receive a full
Masonic burial. The officers got some needed rest. Horses and men rested
most of the next day, August 13, 1855.
A message was sent to Jackson concerning all the events
that had happened in the southern mining district. Samuel Phoenix
immediately took over his brother’s job, Sheriff of Amador County. All
agreed he would fill his brother's shoes well, and the County certainly
needed a Sheriff. Number nine had been hung on Jackson's famous tree, a
Mexican identified as riding with the Hacaletas Gang.
By this time, the entire gold country was near crazy with
hatred toward all Mexicans. They had suffered the Joaquin Murrieta gangs,
and now the Hacaletas Gang had slaughtered every person they saw in the
small mining camp of Rancheria. Rank and file miners wanted war, nothing
less. Sheriffs, Constables, and Vigilantes were rounding up Mexicans all
over the gold country.
A message was received by the posse in Sonora from the
City Marshall of Columbia on August 14, 1855. He had arrested forty-plus
Spaniards and thought some met the descriptions given of the Hacaletas Gang.
The posse saddled up and immediately headed for Columbia. It is only ten
miles from Sonora and an easy ride. Arriving in Columbia, the posse saw that
the City Marshall had roped off the arrested Mexicans, which represented the
majority of the Mexican population of Columbia, and the surrounding areas.
Deputy George Durham immediately recognized Emanuel
Escobar. Emanuel Garcia had told Sheriff Clarke that Escobar had joined the
Hacaletas gang in Drytown., and was in the raid of Rancheria. Escobar was
well dressed, educated , and well known in Drytown. Deputy Durham confronted
him. "No comprende English?", said Escobar. George was angered; he informed
the captive that Emanuel Garcia had given his name and actions during the
raid on Rancheria. Escobar began cussing in perfect English, and took pride
in his involvement with the raid on Rancheria.
The Columbia crowd went near crazy wanting to hang him
there and then. Sheriff Clark took control of the situation, convincing the
crowd that the people of Amador County deserve to be the ones to hang
Escobar. The majority were in agreement. Sheriff Clark's posse had to
continue its search for the killer of Sheriff Phoenix. A volunteer party was
formed to escort Escobar to Jackson. The escort party arrived in Jackson
that afternoon and Emanuel Escobar was immediately hung from Jackson's
famous tree. He was number ten and the last to be hung from that tree.
Algerine Camp was located on Algerine Creek, a tributary
off Curtis Creek about three and a half miles southwest of Jamestown and the
other side of Poverty Hill. An older Mexican man who had a ranch not far
from Algerine Camp approached the posse. He had a story to tell for their
interest. Sheriff Clark listened. He begged of the posse to know that he had
hid the killer of Sheriff Phoenix under the threat of his own life. He
continued: I hid him down my well, which has a small cave in it for such a
purpose. You can not see the person hiding there even if you look down the
well. He is there now. I sought you out to lead you to my ranch.
Deputy George Durham said he would lead this party. The
killer of his Sheriff and friend would be his to take care of. Sheriff Clark
agreed. Arriving at the old Mexican's ranch, Deputy Durham called down the
well for the man to come out. There was no response. The officers began
stuffing dead brush down the well and set it on fire. A single shot rang out
in the well, then silence. The fire was allowed to burn out. It became clear
that the man had taken his own life rather than to surrender.
The officers extracted the dead body from the well. What
they discovered next was astonishing. The man had five bullet holes around
his neck. He would not have lived long in any case. In fact, it was amazing
how he escaped and lived as long as he did. Those wounds had been inflicted
by Sheriff Clark and Deputy Ben Thorn. Then Deputy Durham had hit him in the
head with an axe. It had to have been a glancing blow, although George
thought for sure he had killed him in Salvada. That Mexican was hard to
kill.
All the leads for other gang members had gone cold in the
southern mining country. Sheriff Clark called off the search there, and
decided it was time for all the officers to go home. He was proud of the way
his posse had accounted for themselves. The last gun fight at Salvada could
only be described as spectacular. Had the Hacaletas gang's skill with
revolvers matched their nerve, quite possibly these officers would not be
going home. The officers matched their skills with their nerve and won one
of the most spectacular gunfights of the old west. Don't miss next month's
'Murder in the Gold Country'; The last Hacaletas gang member found at Gopher
Flat, and the aftermath of the Raid on Rancheria.
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Joaquin Murrieta in the
Gold Country
The Sonora Mexican gangs of horse thieves started out in
the legitimate business of gathering mustangs that ran loose by the
thousands in the lower San Joaquin Valley, driving them to Sonora, Mexico.
There they got $100 for an unbroken mustang and $150 for a broken one. That
was gold on four hooves. They could not drive them through the deserts
(Mojave, Yuma, and Sonora) between July and September. Not enough water and
feed. One leader by the name of Joaquin Murrieta solved this logistics
problem by keeping his bands of Vaqueros busy during that time stealing
horses (and gold) in the mining country.
This became so profitable that he headquartered himself
in Mokelumne Hill and delegated the drives to Sonora, Mexico to one of his
lieutenants. His gang began to kill for pleasure. Near Marysville,
California, miners were being found dead along highways leading to and from
the northern mines. Seven men murdered in four days, and in the search for
evidence, six more bodies were found, all bearing the marks of a Mexican
bandito kill. Specifically, lariat rope burns on their necks. Finally, one
miner survived to tell of and describe, the well dressed Mexican gang
committing the robberies and murders. It was Joaquin Murrieta and his
cutthroats. Deputy Sheriff R.B. Buchanan, Yuba County, went after Joaquin
.
He decided to take only one posse man (Ike Bowen). Buchanan climbed through
a fence near where the Mexicans were camped. A shot rang out and the deputy
was shot through the back, just missing his spinal cord. The shooter was
Joaquin Murrieta. The heat of the law was on him, so Joaquin left the deputy
for dead and hightailed it out of that country. The deputy did survive to
tell of his ordeal.
Joaquin never stayed long in one spot. He took his gang
as far north as the west side of Mount Shasta where he spe
