FRONT PAGE
 




Ironstone Vineyards


Rising Sun Nursery



Coldwell Banker



COLUMNISTS

Victoria Beninga

Tammy Beilstein

Gary & Sue Grant

Martin Johnson


Sorensen's Resort


Seattle Mortgage


Jeff Holman Auto Center


Firefall Jewelers


Acupressure Massage


Health Habit


Guy Reyolds, Att.


 


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
Back to Top


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
Back to Top


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
Back to Top


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
Back to Top


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
Back to Top


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
Back to Top


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
Back to Top


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
Back to 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.
Back to Top


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.
Back to Top


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