Volume 044-4 - October 1990 (8 pages)

None had ever seen a “native,” but all were familiar with Indian terrors, and the darkskinned crowds about us were too much for their nerves. Just as darkness was enveloping us, Father succeeded in securing an adobe room with a door at one end and a three-feet opening at the other and enough cots for our party. Some of the ladies had become so nervous that the door and window must be barred, but when the temperature almost reached the “boiling point,” a compromise was secured by Father's cot being placed across the open door, and a lady brave enough or too near suffocation to care, put hers across the open window. I slept, but I don’t think anyone else did. At the break of day we were told that the tide would be right and we could go to the steamer for breakfast. (We had not had any supper, only the lunches that we carried and some fruit.) We were gathered on the sand dunes with our belongings, each party together. The steamer that was to carry us on the Pacific to San Francisco lay anchored a mile from shore. Just as the sun rose, a fleet of whale boats left the steamer. The boats stopped about a quarter of a mile out. The water was too shallow to come nearer, and before we realized what was happening, each “native,” in a very abbreviated bathing suit, had picked up a passenger; another gathered up the belongings, and we were being transported by manpower to the boats, much like sacks of potatoes, the nervous ones of our party howling lustily. The “natives” seemed oblivious to the shrieks and howls of their astonished cargoes. We all arrived on board safely, but there was a perceptible coolness in our party, and Father kept himself very busy for a day or two until the “temperature” became normal. He had not dared to inform them of the method of transportation to be used. At San Francisco, our party separated, each wife being safely delivered to a waiting husband. We remained several days for Father to secure goods for the store. We took the Sacramento River beat for Marysville and the never-to-be forgotten fight for our lives with mosquitos as the little boat cruised its way through the tules of the river. At Marysville Father's mule train (the early California transportation medium) was waiting to put the finishing touches to this long journey to the home far up in the mines as nothing but mountain trails lay before us. We arrived in Smith's Flat to find that the entire population had turned out to welcome “the first child” into its midst. Smith’s Flat — Alleghany Town We found a comfortable home provided for us adjoining the store in Smith's Flat, which had been built in a large space just where the trail reached the summit. The town had been located on a few acres of level land amidst high mountain peaks, giving a grand view of the surrounding gulches that furnished the mines. About twenty cabins and all kinds of homes were strung along each side of the narrow street, and a hotel at the far end of the flat almost closed the entrance from that end. The store had been built at the opposite end of the street, facing the hotel, and had reserved a wide roadway space all around it to accommodate the forty mules that 30 needed to stand for the unloading of their packs as all supplies had to come from this medium of transportation. The roadway separated the store from any other structure, which proved a very fortunate arrangement before the year was over, in 1856, fire, the great terror of mining towns, burned down all of Smith's Flat except Father's store? The fire was so bright it seemed like day. Mother was a light sleeper and was awakened by the unusual sky, Father opened his eyes and yelled “Fire! Boys, throw out the powder.” And Mother started to gather up her most precious possessions. The fire started in the hotel at the other end of town which gave us time to fill every barrel or empty container in the store with water and place them along the outside of the building to use to saturate the store’s supply of blankets which were placed over the exposed sides of the structure. Soon it was found impossible to save any of the rest of the town, and everyone worked to save the food supply and store. The next morning it stood alone in the midst of burning homes. Daylight found the town of Smith's Flat in ashes. One man had been burned in the hotel where the fire had started, a victim to alcohol. It was decided not to try to rebuild Smith's Flat but to start a new village, Alleghany, more convenient for a tunnel being opened up into very rich ore which was across a deep gulch from the burned town’ Going across the deep gulch, Father located the new town of Alleghany, putting up a new store and later another building about twenty feet from it which he rented as a saloon. These were built on the very steep hillside in order to leave as much comparatively level space as possible for a roadway in front, which eventually became a highway. He put everyone who had claims staked and wanted work, on regular hours but also gave them a chance to locate and put up cabins of their own. It was a busy camp; some were digging the roadway while others put in floor foundations, using redwood trees imbedded in the rock for pilings. Cabins went up like mushrooms, almost overnight, on every available nook on the mountain, and before the first snaw storm of the winter of 1856, Mother and I took the trail with the last mule train of provisions to our new home over the Alleghany store; underneath was a small barn and coop for chickens. By this time Alleghany Town must have numbered over a hundred men and several families. (During that first year, I was the only child in the section, and Mother the only woman.) The Tunnel Mining Company was now paying well, working toward a tunnel coming from another gulch; many miners were also doing well on their own claims, A comfortable home was built for us across the street, on a terrace, and a better road was made. There were now two clerks in the store, and Mother had secured a very efficient “helper.” (There were no servants in California.) One of the most astonishing advents to the occupants of Alleghany Town was the arrival of a wagonload of watermelons. Needless to say, work ceased immediately, and their arrival was celebrated by everyone, as this was an unusual occurence, Another great occasion for celebration, and one that made a lasting impression, occurred when an extra rich vein was struck. The Tunnel Mining was reaching “pay dirt.” Alleghany was booming, awaiting daily the realization of hopes and dreams, so when it came, a big party was thrown in our little town. News flew just about as fast as it would today on with telephones. Men came rushing from their claims from over every trail. Father was gone at the time on one of his trips to The Bay (as San Francisco was called) for supplies. It was a lovely morning. The miners had all been at the tunnel but were coming up the trail, carrying their pans, a very unusual thing at that time of day. The gold dust was all kept in the safe in the store. Mother and I went to meet them and found that they had struck a very rich vein of gravel containing gold nuggets and dust. It was a wonderful sight—that pan half Jull of gravel, gold nuggets and gold dust thickly interspersed. It was weighed, put into leather pouches, and locked up in the store safe. Understanding that a celebration was coming, which meant that every man would probably get drunk, the store was locked up, the books taken out (for all business of the store was on credit accounts nearly), and we all went up to our home and locked ourselves in there. We pulled down the curtains and waited for the results, All interest was in the saloon next door, which became the big center of attraction, and within an hour pandemonium reigned. Every musical instrument was in use, tin pans and voices included. When this failed to produce the desired volume of sound, a few battered dishpans were added to the orchestra, the surrounding mountain peaks giving back their echoes. Tiring of the “music” some fertile brains con-™, ceived the idea of a change in program and they surely succeeded in getting it. In the excitement, Mother had neglected to lock Jack in his stable under the store. Jack was the little donkey who was a special pet of the camp, who would often, when loose, be seen going to cabin doors, sharing the morning flapjack or a plate of beans, “just like folks.” It was decided that Jack also must share in this rejoicing. When he was led up the street in front of the saloon, the halfdrunken men, ready for any new demonstration, paused to catch the idea. The silence caused Mother to raise the curtain of the window in our home, (We could see the entire performance plainly from our window.) One of the miners announced that they were going to give Jack a treat. Mother, having a good deal of faith in Jack's ability to take care of himself, requested that they not cause him any harm. The miners announced that they would just give Jack one drink. They proceeded to put overalls and a jumper on Jack and after arranging his toilet to their satisfaction, two men assisted him to the bar, placing his forefoot on the counter, and ordered ‘drinks for the crowd.” Two of the men took Jack's “treat,” one opened his mouth and held up his head, and everyone with full glasses and intense interest, was “at attention.” As soon as a few drops of liquor touched Jack's tongue, action began in that saloon so rapidly I don’t think a man in that room got his drink. There’ \ was braying, kicking, and jumping all over the saloon till chairs, tables, and men were

None had ever seen a “native,” but all were familiar with Indian terrors, and the darkskinned crowds about us were too much for their nerves. Just as darkness was enveloping us, Father succeeded in securing an adobe room with a door at one end and a three-feet opening at the other and enough cots for our party. Some of the ladies had become so nervous that the door and window must be barred, but when the temperature almost reached the “boiling point,” a compromise was secured by Father's cot being placed across the open door, and a lady brave enough or too near suffocation to care, put hers across the open window. I slept, but I don’t think anyone else did. At the break of day we were told that the tide would be right and we could go to the steamer for breakfast. (We had not had any supper, only the lunches that we carried and some fruit.) We were gathered on the sand dunes with our belongings, each party together. The steamer that was to carry us on the Pacific to San Francisco lay anchored a mile from shore. Just as the sun rose, a fleet of whale boats left the steamer. The boats stopped about a quarter of a mile out. The water was too shallow to come nearer, and before we realized what was happening, each “native,” in a very abbreviated bathing suit, had picked up a passenger; another gathered up the belongings, and we were being transported by manpower to the boats, much like sacks of potatoes, the nervous ones of our party howling lustily. The “natives” seemed oblivious to the shrieks and howls of their astonished cargoes. We all arrived on board safely, but there was a perceptible coolness in our party, and Father kept himself very busy for a day or two until the “temperature” became normal. He had not dared to inform them of the method of transportation to be used. At San Francisco, our party separated, each wife being safely delivered to a waiting husband. We remained several days for Father to secure goods for the store. We took the Sacramento River beat for Marysville and the never-to-be forgotten fight for our lives with mosquitos as the little boat cruised its way through the tules of the river. At Marysville Father's mule train (the early California transportation medium) was waiting to put the finishing touches to this long journey to the home far up in the mines as nothing but mountain trails lay before us. We arrived in Smith's Flat to find that the entire population had turned out to welcome “the first child” into its midst. Smith’s Flat — Alleghany Town We found a comfortable home provided for us adjoining the store in Smith's Flat, which had been built in a large space just where the trail reached the summit. The town had been located on a few acres of level land amidst high mountain peaks, giving a grand view of the surrounding gulches that furnished the mines. About twenty cabins and all kinds of homes were strung along each side of the narrow street, and a hotel at the far end of the flat almost closed the entrance from that end. The store had been built at the opposite end of the street, facing the hotel, and had reserved a wide roadway space all around it to accommodate the forty mules that 30 needed to stand for the unloading of their packs as all supplies had to come from this medium of transportation. The roadway separated the store from any other structure, which proved a very fortunate arrangement before the year was over, in 1856, fire, the great terror of mining towns, burned down all of Smith's Flat except Father's store? The fire was so bright it seemed like day. Mother was a light sleeper and was awakened by the unusual sky, Father opened his eyes and yelled “Fire! Boys, throw out the powder.” And Mother started to gather up her most precious possessions. The fire started in the hotel at the other end of town which gave us time to fill every barrel or empty container in the store with water and place them along the outside of the building to use to saturate the store’s supply of blankets which were placed over the exposed sides of the structure. Soon it was found impossible to save any of the rest of the town, and everyone worked to save the food supply and store. The next morning it stood alone in the midst of burning homes. Daylight found the town of Smith's Flat in ashes. One man had been burned in the hotel where the fire had started, a victim to alcohol. It was decided not to try to rebuild Smith's Flat but to start a new village, Alleghany, more convenient for a tunnel being opened up into very rich ore which was across a deep gulch from the burned town’ Going across the deep gulch, Father located the new town of Alleghany, putting up a new store and later another building about twenty feet from it which he rented as a saloon. These were built on the very steep hillside in order to leave as much comparatively level space as possible for a roadway in front,

which eventually became a highway. He put everyone who had claims staked and wanted work, on regular hours but also gave them a chance to locate and put up cabins of their own. It was a busy camp; some were digging the roadway while others put in floor foundations, using redwood trees imbedded in the rock for pilings. Cabins went up like mushrooms, almost overnight, on every available nook on the mountain, and before the first snaw storm of the winter of 1856, Mother and I took the trail with the last mule train of provisions to our new home over the Alleghany store; underneath was a small barn and coop for chickens. By this time Alleghany Town must have numbered over a hundred men and several families. (During that first year, I was the only child in the section, and Mother the only woman.) The Tunnel Mining Company was now paying well, working toward a tunnel coming from another gulch; many miners were also doing well on their own claims, A comfortable home was built for us across the street, on a terrace, and a better road was made. There were now two clerks in the store, and Mother had secured a very efficient “helper.” (There were no servants in California.) One of the most astonishing advents to the occupants of Alleghany Town was the arrival of a wagonload of watermelons. Needless to say, work ceased immediately, and their arrival was celebrated by everyone, as this was an unusual occurence, Another great occasion for celebration, and one that made a lasting impression, occurred when an extra rich vein was struck. The Tunnel Mining was reaching “pay dirt.” Alleghany was booming, awaiting daily the realization of hopes and dreams, so when it came, a big party was thrown in our little town. News flew just about as fast as it would today on with telephones. Men came rushing from their claims from over every trail. Father was gone at the time on one of his trips to The Bay (as San Francisco was called) for supplies. It was a lovely morning. The miners had all been at the tunnel but were coming up the trail, carrying their pans, a very unusual thing at that time of day. The gold dust was all kept in the safe in the store. Mother and I went to meet them and found that they had struck a very rich vein of gravel containing gold nuggets and dust. It was a wonderful sight—that pan half Jull of gravel, gold nuggets and gold dust thickly interspersed. It was weighed, put into leather pouches, and locked up in the store safe. Understanding that a celebration was coming, which meant that every man would probably get drunk, the store was locked up, the books taken out (for all business of the store was on credit accounts nearly), and we all went up to our home and locked ourselves in there. We pulled down the curtains and waited for the results, All interest was in the saloon next door, which became the big center of attraction, and within an hour pandemonium reigned. Every musical instrument was in use, tin pans and voices included. When this failed to produce the desired volume of sound, a few battered dishpans were added to the orchestra, the surrounding mountain peaks giving back their echoes. Tiring of the “music” some fertile brains con-™, ceived the idea of a change in program and they surely succeeded in getting it. In the excitement, Mother had neglected to lock Jack in his stable under the store. Jack was the little donkey who was a special pet of the camp, who would often, when loose, be seen going to cabin doors, sharing the morning flapjack or a plate of beans, “just like folks.” It was decided that Jack also must share in this rejoicing. When he was led up the street in front of the saloon, the halfdrunken men, ready for any new demonstration, paused to catch the idea. The silence caused Mother to raise the curtain of the window in our home, (We could see the entire performance plainly from our window.) One of the miners announced that they were going to give Jack a treat. Mother, having a good deal of faith in Jack's ability to take care of himself, requested that they not cause him any harm. The miners announced that they would just give Jack one drink. They proceeded to put overalls and a jumper on Jack and after arranging his toilet to their satisfaction, two men assisted him to the bar, placing his forefoot on the counter, and ordered ‘drinks for the crowd.” Two of the men took Jack's “treat,” one opened his mouth and held up his head, and everyone with full glasses and intense interest, was “at attention.” As soon as a few drops of liquor touched Jack's tongue, action began in that saloon so rapidly I don’t think a man in that room got his drink. There’ \ was braying, kicking, and jumping all over the saloon till chairs, tables, and men were