Volume 035-3 - July 1981 (8 pages)

first tried hydraulic work, a tinsmith made a nozzle out of sheet iron, but when put in practice, instead of throwing a solid stream, it scattered like a shotgun, and up at Moore’s Flat, _ they called the claims where they used it, the “shotgun claims’’. From that time great improvements were made in hydraulic apparatus until the work done by them was really wonderful. In 1850 there lived at Orleans Flat and Moore’s Flat in Nevada County a few young, energetic and very stirring pioneers in the persons of lads from 10 to 15 years of age, always on the search for a few dimes to spend, or add to an already hoarded store, and the mountain air, with the wild surroundings, seemed to inspire them always with lively vigor, and especially when there was a prospect of a two-bit piece not far ahead. . In winter, when the deep snow cut off all communication with the valley, our busy tinner ran short of solder, and seeing a limited supply in the tin cans that lay thick about, he engaged the boys to gather in a supply and showed them how they could be melted down to secure the solder with which they had been fastened, and thus provide for his immediate wants. So the boys ransacked every spot where they had been thrown, under the saloon and houses, and in old dump holes everywhere, till they had gathered a pretty large pile which they fired as he had told them, and then panned out the ashes to secure the drops of metal which had melted down and cooled in small drops and bits below. This was remelted and cast into a mold, madeina pine block, and the solder made into regular form. About one third was made up thus in good and honest shape. But the boys soon made up a shrewdness that if more fully expanded might make them millionaires, but in the present small way they hoped to put into account in getting a few extra dimes. They put a big chunk of iron in the mold and poured in the melted solder which enclosed it completely, so that when they presented the bright, silvery bar to the old tinker he paid the price agreed upon and they divided the money between them, and then, in a secure place, they laughed till their sides ached at the good joke on the tinman. In due time the man found out the iron core in his bar of solder, and thought the joke such a good one that he told of it in the saloon, and had to spend at least $5 in drinks to ease off the laugh they had on him as the victim of the young California pioneers. And these young fellows — some have paddled their own canoe successfully into quiet waters and are now in the fullness of life, happy in their possessions, while some have been swamped on the great rushing stream of business, and dwell in memory on the happy times gone by. The older pioneers in these mining towns were, in many respects a peculiar class of men. Most of them were sober and industrious, fearless and venturesome, jolly and happy when good luck came to them, and in misfortune stood up with brave, strong, manly hearts, without a tear or murmur. They let the world roll merrily by, were ever ready with a joke, mirth and fun to make their surroundings cheerful. Fortunes came and went; they made money easily, and spent it just as freely, and in their generosity and kindly charity the old expression: ‘“‘He has a heart like an ox” fitted well the character of most of them. When luck turned against them, they worked the harder, for the next turn might fill their big pockets witha fortune, and then the dream of capturing a wife and building upa home could be realized, and they would move out into the world on a wave of happiness and plenty. This kind of talk was freely carried on around the camp fire in the long evenings, and who knows how many of these royal good fellows realized those bright hopes and glorious anticipations? Who knows? The names come back in memory of some of them, and others have been forgotten. I recall Washington Work, H.J. Kingman, A.J. Henderson, L.d. Hanchett, Jack Hays, Seth Bishop, Burr Blakeslee, Jim Tyler, who was the loudest laugher in the town, and as he lived at the Clifton House, he was called “The Clifton House Calf’. These and many others might be mentioned as typical good fellows of the mining days. The biggest kind of practical joke would be settled amicably at the saloon in the usual style. One day, Jack Hays bought a pair of new boots, set them down in the store. and went to turn off the miners supply of water. When he returned he found his boots well filled with refuse crackers and water. This he discovered when he took them up to go to dinner, and as he poured out the contents at the door, a half dozen boys across the street raised a big laugh at him, and hooted at his discomfiture. Jack scowled an awful scowl, and if he called them “‘pukes” with a few swear words added, it wasa mild way of pouring out his anger. But after dinner the boys surrounded him and fairly laughed him into a good humor, so that he set up drinks for the crowd. Foot races were a great Sunday sport, and dog fights were not uncommon. One dog in our camp was champion of the ridge, and though other camps brought in their pet canines to eat him up, he was always the top dog at the end of the scrimmage, as he had a winning grip on the forefoot of his antagonist. A big “husky” who answered to the name of ‘‘Cherokee Bob” came our way and stopped awhile. He announced himself a foot racer, and a contest was soon arranged with Soda Bill of Nevada City, and each went into a course of training at his own camp. Bob found some way to get the best time that Bill could make, and comparing it with his own, said he could beat him in that race. So when it came off, our boys gathered up their money, and loaded down the stage, inside and out, departing with swinging hats and flying colors, and screaming in wild delight at the sure prospect of doubling their dust. Ina few days, they all came back after the style of half drowned roosters. Bob had “thrown” the race and skipped with his money before they could catch him. Had he been found, he would have been urgently hoisted to the first projecting limb, but he was never seen again. The boys were sad and silent for a day or two, but a look of cheerful resignation soon came upon their faces as they handled pick and shovel, and the world rolled on as before. One fall we had a county election, and among the candidats for office was our townsman H.M. Moore, from whom Moore’s Flat secured its name. He was the Democratic nominee for County Judge, and on the other side was David Belden, he, whom Santa Clara County felt proud to honor as its Superior Judge, and when death claimed him, never was a man more sincerely mourned by every citizen. The votes were counted, and Belden was one ahead. Moore’claimed another count, and this time a mistake was discovered in the former count, but unfortunately, it gave Belden a larger majority as before, and his adversary was forced to abandon the political fight. In the fifties I traveled from the North Yuba River to San Bernardino on different roads, and made many acquaintances and friends. I can truly say that I found many of these early comers were the most noble men and women of the earth. They were brave, else they had never taken the journey through unknown deserts and through lands where wild Indians had their homes. They were just and true to friends and to real enemies, terribly bitter and uncompromising. Money was borrowed and loaned without a note or written obligation, and there was no mention made of statute laws as a rule of action. When a real murderer or horsethief was caught, no lawyers were needed, nor employed. But if the community was satisfied as to the guilt and identity of the prisoner, the punishment was speedily meted out, and the nearest tree was soon ornamented (?) with his swinging carcass. Many of these worthy men broke the trail on the rough way that led tothe Pacific Coast, drove away all dangers, and made it safer for those who dared not at first risk life and fortune in the journey, but, encouraged by the success of the earliest pioneers, ventured later on the eventful trip to the new gold fields. I canngt praise these noble men too much; they deserve all I can say, and much more, too; and if a word I can say 20

first tried hydraulic work, a tinsmith made a nozzle out of sheet iron, but when put in practice, instead of throwing a solid stream, it scattered like a shotgun, and up at Moore’s Flat, _ they called the claims where they used it, the “shotgun claims’’. From that time great improvements were made in hydraulic apparatus until the work done by them was really wonderful. In 1850 there lived at Orleans Flat and Moore’s Flat in Nevada County a few young, energetic and very stirring pioneers in the persons of lads from 10 to 15 years of age, always on the search for a few dimes to spend, or add to an already hoarded store, and the mountain air, with the wild surroundings, seemed to inspire them always with lively vigor, and especially when there was a prospect of a two-bit piece not far ahead. . In winter, when the deep snow cut off all communication with the valley, our busy tinner ran short of solder, and seeing a limited supply in the tin cans that lay thick about, he engaged the boys to gather in a supply and showed them how they could be melted down to secure the solder with which they had been fastened, and thus provide for his immediate wants. So the boys ransacked every spot where they had been thrown, under the saloon and houses, and in old dump holes everywhere, till they had gathered a pretty large pile which they fired as he had told them, and then panned out the ashes to secure the drops of metal which had melted down and cooled in small drops and bits below. This was remelted and cast into a mold, madeina pine block, and the solder made into regular form. About one third was made up thus in good and honest shape. But the boys soon made up a shrewdness that if more fully expanded might make them millionaires, but in the present small way they hoped to put into account in getting a few extra dimes. They put a big chunk of iron in the mold and poured in the melted solder which enclosed it completely, so that when they presented the bright, silvery bar to the old tinker he paid the price agreed upon and they divided the money between them, and then, in a secure place, they laughed till their sides ached at the good joke on the tinman. In due time the man found out the iron core in his bar of solder, and thought the joke such a good one that he told of it in the saloon, and had to spend at least $5 in drinks to ease off the laugh they had on him as the victim of the young California pioneers. And these young fellows — some have paddled their own canoe successfully into quiet waters and are now in the fullness of life, happy in their possessions, while some have been swamped on the great rushing stream of business, and dwell in memory on the happy times gone by. The older pioneers in these mining towns were, in many respects a peculiar class of men. Most of them were sober and industrious, fearless and venturesome, jolly and happy when good luck came to them, and in misfortune stood up with brave, strong, manly hearts, without a tear or murmur. They let the world roll merrily by, were ever ready with a joke, mirth and fun to make their surroundings cheerful. Fortunes came and went; they made money easily, and spent it just as freely, and in their generosity and kindly charity the old expression: ‘“‘He has a heart like an ox” fitted well the character of most of them. When luck turned against them, they worked the harder, for the next turn might fill their big pockets witha fortune, and then the dream of capturing a wife and building upa home could be realized, and they would move out into the world on a wave of happiness and plenty. This kind of talk was freely carried on around the camp fire in the long evenings, and who knows how many of these royal good fellows realized those bright hopes and glorious anticipations? Who knows? The names come back in memory of some of them, and others have been forgotten. I recall Washington Work, H.J. Kingman, A.J. Henderson, L.d. Hanchett, Jack Hays, Seth Bishop, Burr Blakeslee, Jim Tyler, who was the loudest laugher in the town, and as he lived at the Clifton House, he was called “The Clifton House Calf’. These and many others might be mentioned as typical good fellows of the mining days.

The biggest kind of practical joke would be settled amicably at the saloon in the usual style. One day, Jack Hays bought a pair of new boots, set them down in the store. and went to turn off the miners supply of water. When he returned he found his boots well filled with refuse crackers and water. This he discovered when he took them up to go to dinner, and as he poured out the contents at the door, a half dozen boys across the street raised a big laugh at him, and hooted at his discomfiture. Jack scowled an awful scowl, and if he called them “‘pukes” with a few swear words added, it wasa mild way of pouring out his anger. But after dinner the boys surrounded him and fairly laughed him into a good humor, so that he set up drinks for the crowd. Foot races were a great Sunday sport, and dog fights were not uncommon. One dog in our camp was champion of the ridge, and though other camps brought in their pet canines to eat him up, he was always the top dog at the end of the scrimmage, as he had a winning grip on the forefoot of his antagonist. A big “husky” who answered to the name of ‘‘Cherokee Bob” came our way and stopped awhile. He announced himself a foot racer, and a contest was soon arranged with Soda Bill of Nevada City, and each went into a course of training at his own camp. Bob found some way to get the best time that Bill could make, and comparing it with his own, said he could beat him in that race. So when it came off, our boys gathered up their money, and loaded down the stage, inside and out, departing with swinging hats and flying colors, and screaming in wild delight at the sure prospect of doubling their dust. Ina few days, they all came back after the style of half drowned roosters. Bob had “thrown” the race and skipped with his money before they could catch him. Had he been found, he would have been urgently hoisted to the first projecting limb, but he was never seen again. The boys were sad and silent for a day or two, but a look of cheerful resignation soon came upon their faces as they handled pick and shovel, and the world rolled on as before. One fall we had a county election, and among the candidats for office was our townsman H.M. Moore, from whom Moore’s Flat secured its name. He was the Democratic nominee for County Judge, and on the other side was David Belden, he, whom Santa Clara County felt proud to honor as its Superior Judge, and when death claimed him, never was a man more sincerely mourned by every citizen. The votes were counted, and Belden was one ahead. Moore’claimed another count, and this time a mistake was discovered in the former count, but unfortunately, it gave Belden a larger majority as before, and his adversary was forced to abandon the political fight. In the fifties I traveled from the North Yuba River to San Bernardino on different roads, and made many acquaintances and friends. I can truly say that I found many of these early comers were the most noble men and women of the earth. They were brave, else they had never taken the journey through unknown deserts and through lands where wild Indians had their homes. They were just and true to friends and to real enemies, terribly bitter and uncompromising. Money was borrowed and loaned without a note or written obligation, and there was no mention made of statute laws as a rule of action. When a real murderer or horsethief was caught, no lawyers were needed, nor employed. But if the community was satisfied as to the guilt and identity of the prisoner, the punishment was speedily meted out, and the nearest tree was soon ornamented (?) with his swinging carcass. Many of these worthy men broke the trail on the rough way that led tothe Pacific Coast, drove away all dangers, and made it safer for those who dared not at first risk life and fortune in the journey, but, encouraged by the success of the earliest pioneers, ventured later on the eventful trip to the new gold fields. I canngt praise these noble men too much; they deserve all I can say, and much more, too; and if a word I can say 20