"More Than Gold" and "Lola Montez" (PH 12-B-1)(1965-1966) (53 pages)

z “MORE THAN GOLD” Ain Authentic Story Never Before Told BY RUTH HERMANN : EDITOR’S NOTE: — This material from original ‘sources is protected by copyright application. Any use without author’s permission will be contrary to law. The photographs accompanying this story (with exception of the one of the town of Nevada in 1856) have never been used before and are the exclusive property of the author. They may not be reproduced for any purpose whatsoever. ACKNOWLEDGMENTS . would like to thank especially Mrs. Florence Craig Rowe for interviews and photographs; Mrs. Barbara Gregory, whose great-great-aunt was Abigail Kellogg Williams, for interviews and genealogical information; Mrs. Bessie JHays King, Mrs. Richard Worth, Mrs. Esther McCluskey and the staff of the Nevada City Library, Theodore Kohler, Nevada County Recorder, Nevada County Historical Society, and James Schaar. John and Abigail Williams surveyed their gravel mine on Gold Flat near the town of Nevada with despair. They felt benumbed by shock of the sight before them, faltering for words to console each other. The mine was flooded. The storms had been severe all winter. The great deluge of water could not be foiled by any manpower or mechanism available. Their equipment had become of no use, for water had to be lifted, and there had been just too much of it for the simple pump to handle. Huge boulders, dirt and debris, washed down from a nearby cutlaytoo, ingreat mounds over the fr2mework that had been the.entrace to the well producing mine. In 1858 it was not easy to replace hard-earned machinery at a moment’s notice in the far removed towns of the Northern Mines. These mining communities were separated from their hub towns of Marys-— ville and Sacramento by what were called roads — hardly more than trails — that were deep in mire in winter and of equal depth in dust insummer, : The load of work ahead looked over-powering to a middle-aged couple. Forlornly, they stood in pathetic bewilderment. Only two years before, from the proposed site of ahome they had planned to build on top of Prospect Hill, they among scores of others, had looked down: upon Nevada at their feet and beyond — still smoking from the fire that had consumed the whole city. In less than an hour fromthe time of the alarm the town lay in ruins. It wasa holocaust sofierce that it darted tongues out in all directions, licking every effort made by the early fire brigade. About four hundred wooden houses, the new court house and all but six of the 28 brick buildings had burned with unparalleled rapidity, fanned by a wind of great intensity from the west. The roaring flames bore down upon the fleeing people so violently that thoughts of survival overshadowed any effort to save personal belongings. ‘ Young Mary Searls, wife of lawyer Niles was seen to flee her house on the hill approa¢ Main Street with son Fred, under one arm and wl she could carry in clothing over the other. Choking, from the smoke and heat of the blaze and from the: fear that she might not outrun the terrible inferno,: she fled northeast from the town, joining masses of' other residents. : : That frightful day was July 19, 1856 when the fire by pure accident started in Hughes’ blacksmith shop, on Pine Street about midafternoon. John and Abigail’s buildings on the south side of lower Main Street, that started at the Main Street bridge and extended half way up to Union Alley, including Williams’ Water Works, were nothing but charcoal dust. By mental notes they knew their losses would be sizeable for the loss of the Water Works alone, would be $4,000, a small fortune in itself in the 1850s, : John was a shrewd man. He was set and determined when he saw a need and moved to develop it hance his name. Very early in the Fifties he developed the first and only water system to the town of Nevada by a water right he alone owned, situated within and outside the corporate limits of Nevada. It started in the Cooleon (Kooleon) Incline and cutnear Gold Flat. From that point he ran a line of boxes, ditches and leaden pipes, with branches extending, conveying the water one mile or thereabouts, distributing it to townspeople of Nevada for household use. On Main Street there was a well with a pump; but Williams supplied the establishments as well in the lower part of the town, running the leaden pipes’ 2 Broad Street and extending them along upper Main treet. Ironically, the fire melted the leaden pipes, andthe precious water dissipated into the hot soil. It was of no use at the critical moment to the frantic men fighting for the life of the town that was quickly vanishing. John quieted Abigail as she wept, talking to her gently. He reminded her that they still hadthe mine, the John Williams’ ranches on and near Gold Flat, a. roof over their heads and each other. Both knew by then that six well-known citizens, probably many more, had perished in brick buildings thought to be so substantial that they would withstand any conflagra~ tion. John Williams could have been one of those unfortunate men. There was a huge sack of gold hidden away that they would now have to rely on to rebuild the properties. They had saved it methodically, hoarding it to construct the new house that they wanted more than gold on the town side slope of Prospect Hill. They envisioned a brick home, trimmed with white embellishments, that would stand four stories highon that choice spot. From the top floor of this building, from what was to be in part, John’s office, he would be able to view his fellow meninthe town below, hoping that he would be held in esteem and looked to in council. At last he then would enjoy the western counterpart of the southern plantation days of Tennessee, where his father, Elias Williams, with his wife, Frances Jennings, reigned like alordover man and beast, as did also his German born maternal grandfather in Virginia. His Welch grandfather Williams came to America about the period of the Rev~ olutionary War and settled also in Virginia.

z “MORE THAN GOLD” Ain Authentic Story Never Before Told BY RUTH HERMANN : EDITOR’S NOTE: — This material from original ‘sources is protected by copyright application. Any use without author’s permission will be contrary to law. The photographs accompanying this story (with exception of the one of the town of Nevada in 1856) have never been used before and are the exclusive property of the author. They may not be reproduced for any purpose whatsoever. ACKNOWLEDGMENTS . would like to thank especially Mrs. Florence Craig Rowe for interviews and photographs; Mrs. Barbara Gregory, whose great-great-aunt was Abigail Kellogg Williams, for interviews and genealogical information; Mrs. Bessie JHays King, Mrs. Richard Worth, Mrs. Esther McCluskey and the staff of the Nevada City Library, Theodore Kohler, Nevada County Recorder, Nevada County Historical Society, and James Schaar. John and Abigail Williams surveyed their gravel mine on Gold Flat near the town of Nevada with despair. They felt benumbed by shock of the sight before them, faltering for words to console each other. The mine was flooded. The storms had been severe all winter. The great deluge of water could not be foiled by any manpower or mechanism available. Their equipment had become of no use, for water had to be lifted, and there had been just too much of it for the simple pump to handle. Huge boulders, dirt and debris, washed down from a nearby cutlaytoo, ingreat mounds over the fr2mework that had been the.entrace to the well producing mine. In 1858 it was not easy to replace hard-earned machinery at a moment’s notice in the far removed towns of the Northern Mines. These mining communities were separated from their hub towns of Marys-— ville and Sacramento by what were called roads — hardly more than trails — that were deep in mire in winter and of equal depth in dust insummer, : The load of work ahead looked over-powering to a middle-aged couple. Forlornly, they stood in pathetic bewilderment. Only two years before, from the proposed site of ahome they had planned to build on top of Prospect Hill, they among scores of others, had looked down: upon Nevada at their feet and beyond — still smoking from the fire that had consumed the whole city. In less than an hour fromthe time of the alarm the town lay in ruins. It wasa holocaust sofierce that it darted tongues out in all directions, licking every effort made by the early fire brigade. About four hundred wooden houses, the new court house and all but six of the 28 brick buildings had burned with unparalleled rapidity, fanned by a wind of great intensity from the west. The roaring flames bore down upon the fleeing people so violently that thoughts of survival overshadowed any effort to save personal belongings. ‘ Young Mary Searls, wife of lawyer Niles was seen to flee her house on the hill approa¢

Main Street with son Fred, under one arm and wl she could carry in clothing over the other. Choking, from the smoke and heat of the blaze and from the: fear that she might not outrun the terrible inferno,: she fled northeast from the town, joining masses of' other residents. : : That frightful day was July 19, 1856 when the fire by pure accident started in Hughes’ blacksmith shop, on Pine Street about midafternoon. John and Abigail’s buildings on the south side of lower Main Street, that started at the Main Street bridge and extended half way up to Union Alley, including Williams’ Water Works, were nothing but charcoal dust. By mental notes they knew their losses would be sizeable for the loss of the Water Works alone, would be $4,000, a small fortune in itself in the 1850s, : John was a shrewd man. He was set and determined when he saw a need and moved to develop it hance his name. Very early in the Fifties he developed the first and only water system to the town of Nevada by a water right he alone owned, situated within and outside the corporate limits of Nevada. It started in the Cooleon (Kooleon) Incline and cutnear Gold Flat. From that point he ran a line of boxes, ditches and leaden pipes, with branches extending, conveying the water one mile or thereabouts, distributing it to townspeople of Nevada for household use. On Main Street there was a well with a pump; but Williams supplied the establishments as well in the lower part of the town, running the leaden pipes’ 2 Broad Street and extending them along upper Main treet. Ironically, the fire melted the leaden pipes, andthe precious water dissipated into the hot soil. It was of no use at the critical moment to the frantic men fighting for the life of the town that was quickly vanishing. John quieted Abigail as she wept, talking to her gently. He reminded her that they still hadthe mine, the John Williams’ ranches on and near Gold Flat, a. roof over their heads and each other. Both knew by then that six well-known citizens, probably many more, had perished in brick buildings thought to be so substantial that they would withstand any conflagra~ tion. John Williams could have been one of those unfortunate men. There was a huge sack of gold hidden away that they would now have to rely on to rebuild the properties. They had saved it methodically, hoarding it to construct the new house that they wanted more than gold on the town side slope of Prospect Hill. They envisioned a brick home, trimmed with white embellishments, that would stand four stories highon that choice spot. From the top floor of this building, from what was to be in part, John’s office, he would be able to view his fellow meninthe town below, hoping that he would be held in esteem and looked to in council. At last he then would enjoy the western counterpart of the southern plantation days of Tennessee, where his father, Elias Williams, with his wife, Frances Jennings, reigned like alordover man and beast, as did also his German born maternal grandfather in Virginia. His Welch grandfather Williams came to America about the period of the Rev~ olutionary War and settled also in Virginia.