December 26, 1963 (22 pages)

ee san pa Soars wBeny emmneratem nee (Continued from Page 1) Oh! it was bawdy, it was disreputable, it was exciting--it was Browns Valley long ago. The old cemetery is beautiful now. Roses border its paths and the grass is velvet.green on the well-kept graves. The graves of people who are still remembered. There are, of course, the forgotten ones. Myrtle and weeds run riot there; markers are frostcracked and stones lean crookedly. Far down a weed grown path is such a plot, The pale rose monument still stands though-tall and glorious above the weeds, mute evidence that once someone cared greatly. Curious eyes scan the few graven words and wonder. “Johnnie Mead, 12 Years.” Twelve ‘years and nothing more. No months, no weeks, no days. The epitaph below is the age old plea of a tortured heart: © “Teach me to give back to Thee The treasure Thou dids't lend to me." W hen the weeds are pushed aside, two more graves are disclosed in the plot--one with a marker, the other hardly an outline now. The words not lost to moss and lichen are “August, beloved of Ella Mead.” And that was it. It was all that mattered in life; in death it matters not at all. The pathway to this plot has all but disappeared, and it's a lonely thing to see in summer when the weeds are tall and brown, but in the spring when the three. graves are united by aliving carpet of wild flowers, ‘it's — the loveliest spot in the cemetery. And sothis is the story of those three--Ella, Gus and Johnnie* Mead-and the place that was home to them through many exciting, happy yéars. Barren, rocky and sunburnt in summer; windswept, rain -drenched and cold in winter; it was beloved of all places by those three of long ago. es ¢ 8 A huddle of new rough lumber buildiffgs on-the Marysville highway just below Browns Valley was given life one April day by the arrival of two strangers in a surrey followed by a huge wagon-load of possessions. When the surrey that had brought them from Marysville was swallowed up in a cloud of dust, and the teamsters had unloaded the last crate onthe wide porch steps and turned homeward, Ella and Gus Mead stood in the warm spring sunshine and looked about them. The young woman, her dark eyes shining, spoke first. "Gus, you didn't tell me. Why it's like heaven." She drew deep breaths of the warm flower-scented air. The swarthy, handsome man of perhaps forty years, smiled. Far “across the valley to the Marysville Buttes stretched a sea of grain--dipping and waving as One of the joys at Christmas time is greeting folks like you . we wish you health and happiness throughout the New Year too! Nevada City. Grass Valley And 4it met washes of color in the acres of wild flowers that carpeted all of the untilled land. Andon every fence post larks filledthe air with their joyous spring song. “Summers are long and hot, Ella, and the winters . well, Ihope you don't get homesick. Ellis Street and our friends are a,, long way fromhere." —_, The woman's lovely face clouded, then blurred to wistfulness. . “Gus, I want new friends here, a different kind of people than we have known. For instance, . ill *, SSS ee those little kids over there, herding turkeys. I'd like toknow them and their people." Gus turned away. Farmers didn't make friends of saloon keepers; Ella would have to learn the hard way. “Come, let's look the place over." First the bar and card room was inspected and approved, thenthe dining room with its wide fireplace and many windows and last, but not least, the kitchen. "Gus, it's perfect now--let’s see the balance of our ‘village’,"” And The Places Tha 4 ome est woman I ever saw. How do you suppose.” ; "Why son,” the older. man spit over the wheel and watched the dust make a round ball of it, "them kind is generally good lookin'’=-so is poison oak. " The boy looked off across the fields. “Well, I liked ‘em--it'll be nice seeing ‘em often." The first year Ella tried hard to make friends ofthe farmer families in the neighborhood but without success. Her big bay racer and shining buggy became Ta \, hy a familiar sight on highway and . side road as she carried news of relatives in distant mining camps, food, medicine and assistance when sickness and death crept past ragged blinds into lonely darkened farm houses. But they made it clear they wanted none of her. She finally gave it up and returned to the only life she now knew--whiskey and the people who lived by. it. Ifthe rebuffs she met with hurt, only.Gus knew. She found plenty village it was--out -buildingsthat»*+6 do; sHe’and he? old Irish woman covered an acre of ground, even a cabin was provided for guests who would be left over from the parties they would give. “We'll have lots of parties, Gus, the girls are looking forward to them. " "What do you bet we'll make alot of money with your bar and card room, me with my dining room. And Gus, I cancook. You'd just be surprised how I can cook. " Color came and went in the flower -like face and her big black eyes sparkled with fun. Gus Mead's cynical expression changed to gentleness, “Ell, there isno privacy here in the country, not as we knew it in the city, we should.” "No," coldness settled in the woman's face. "Nochains for me --we will work here--live our lives together here because we want to, not because we have to, and Gus, when it's over we can still be together up there on the hill, " They stood for a minute and watched the southbound train race, wailing its way through poppy-reddened fields, _ “Gus, the woman's voice was tinged with wistfulness, “this is the first time in my life that a train whistle hasnttcalled ‘Come’. I'm home at last!” The teamsters, out of earshot now, opened an animated conversation. “Saloon keepers, huh? He looks like an old banker with that Van ‘Dyke beard, don't 'e?” "An'she,” the over-grown boy helper nodded, “she's the prettit¥ helper; catering to miners, transients and teamster's; serving them the most delicious food they had ever eaten, and making Mead's Roadhouse a happy place to be. Ella had an inexhaustible fund of stories for people in that mood; a kindly, cheering word for those introuble. Mead's Roadhouse (Deadfall, to the farmers) t Knew Them became famous from Marysville to the farthest pathways of the Sierras. 4 The Meads prospered far beyond their highest expectations. Money clinked on bar and table all day and was dropped carelessly in drawer and cupboard. Asifthe gods of success were not yet content, huge dredgers came, to whine and grumble--night and day--in the Yuba River channel andthe bright new town of Hammonton came into being. And Hammonton was a dry town, but Mead's was just across the way. Money rolled in but seemed to go out just as fast. Old friends down on their luck, securities that turned out wrong, and a way of life that encouraged extravagance, Sometimes the Meads . woridered where so much money — went, Butthey didn't worry. The pattern would always be about the same--the future looked good to Gus and Ella Mead. If sometimes through those years, aword, a face, or a fragrance brought searing memories to Ella Mead, memories of the old wonderful days of youth and soaring ambition, of love, respect and the family she had forfeited, she hurriedly buried them before they cut too deeply into her heart. And with the least of excuses she gave parties and the gayest of them all was Christmas Eve, inaw Tks Gus, in snowy jacket, pre-. sided over the punch bowl, free toall, and Ella, after creating a paradise of soft lights, flowers and greenery from far off Allegheny, kept close watch on Mrs, Brady's effort in the kitchen . Turkeys roasting, brown and juicy, their tender bodies bursting with sage and onion stuffing, vied with steaming mince pies, plum A happy wish for a Holiday of happiness, cheer and good =~ will to all our friends and customers. W.J. Smith sewerer 218 BROAD STREET, NEVADA CITY 9 o8eq* "E961 ‘9% Joquis0eq** *1088nN oy’ *9 o8eg

ee san pa Soars wBeny emmneratem nee (Continued from Page 1) Oh! it was bawdy, it was disreputable, it was exciting--it was Browns Valley long ago. The old cemetery is beautiful now. Roses border its paths and the grass is velvet.green on the well-kept graves. The graves of people who are still remembered. There are, of course, the forgotten ones. Myrtle and weeds run riot there; markers are frostcracked and stones lean crookedly. Far down a weed grown path is such a plot, The pale rose monument still stands though-tall and glorious above the weeds, mute evidence that once someone cared greatly. Curious eyes scan the few graven words and wonder. “Johnnie Mead, 12 Years.” Twelve ‘years and nothing more. No months, no weeks, no days. The epitaph below is the age old plea of a tortured heart: © “Teach me to give back to Thee The treasure Thou dids't lend to me." W hen the weeds are pushed aside, two more graves are disclosed in the plot--one with a marker, the other hardly an outline now. The words not lost to moss and lichen are “August, beloved of Ella Mead.” And that was it. It was all that mattered in life; in death it matters not at all. The pathway to this plot has all but disappeared, and it's a lonely thing to see in summer when the weeds are tall and brown, but in the spring when the three. graves are united by aliving carpet of wild flowers, ‘it's — the loveliest spot in the cemetery. And sothis is the story of those three--Ella, Gus and Johnnie* Mead-and the place that was home to them through many exciting, happy yéars. Barren, rocky and sunburnt in summer; windswept, rain -drenched and cold in winter; it was beloved of all places by those three of long ago. es ¢ 8 A huddle of new rough lumber buildiffgs on-the Marysville highway just below Browns Valley was given life one April day by the arrival of two strangers in a surrey followed by a huge wagon-load of possessions. When the surrey that had brought them from Marysville was swallowed up in a cloud of dust, and the teamsters had unloaded the last crate onthe wide porch steps and turned homeward, Ella and Gus Mead stood in the warm spring sunshine and looked about them. The young woman, her dark eyes shining, spoke first. "Gus, you didn't tell me. Why it's like heaven." She drew deep breaths of the warm flower-scented air. The swarthy, handsome man of perhaps forty years, smiled. Far “across the valley to the Marysville Buttes stretched a sea of grain--dipping and waving as One of the joys at Christmas time is greeting folks like you . we wish you health and happiness throughout the New Year too! Nevada City. Grass Valley And 4it met washes of color in the acres of wild flowers that carpeted all of the untilled land. Andon every fence post larks filledthe air with their joyous spring song. “Summers are long and hot, Ella, and the winters .. well, Ihope you don't get homesick.. Ellis Street and our friends are a,, long way fromhere." —_, The woman's lovely face clouded, then blurred to wistfulness. . “Gus, I want new friends here, a different kind of people than we have known. For instance, . ill *, SSS ee those little kids over there, herding turkeys. I'd like toknow them and their people." Gus turned away. Farmers didn't make friends of saloon keepers; Ella would have to learn the hard way. “Come, let's look the place over." First the bar and card room was inspected and approved, thenthe dining room with its wide fireplace and many windows and last, but not least, the kitchen. "Gus, it's perfect now--let’s see the balance of our ‘village’,"” And The Places Tha 4 ome est woman I ever saw. How do you suppose..” ; "Why son,” the older. man spit over the wheel and watched the dust make a round ball of it, "them kind is generally good lookin'’=-so is poison oak. " The boy looked off across the fields. “Well, I liked ‘em--it'll be nice seeing ‘em often." The first year Ella tried hard to make friends ofthe farmer families in the neighborhood but without success. Her big bay

racer and shining buggy became Ta \, hy a familiar sight on highway and . side road as she carried news of relatives in distant mining camps, food, medicine and assistance when sickness and death crept past ragged blinds into lonely darkened farm houses. But they made it clear they wanted none of her. She finally gave it up and returned to the only life she now knew--whiskey and the people who lived by. it. Ifthe rebuffs she met with hurt, only.Gus knew. She found plenty village it was--out -buildingsthat»*+6 do; sHe’and he? old Irish woman covered an acre of ground, even a cabin was provided for guests who would be left over from the parties they would give. “We'll have lots of parties, Gus, the girls are looking forward to them. " "What do you bet we'll make alot of money with your bar and card room, me with my dining room. And Gus, I cancook. You'd just be surprised how I can cook. " Color came and went in the flower -like face and her big black eyes sparkled with fun. Gus Mead's cynical expression changed to gentleness, “Ell, there isno privacy here in the country, not as we knew it in the city, we should..” "No," coldness settled in the woman's face. "Nochains for me --we will work here--live our lives together here because we want to, not because we have to, and Gus, when it's over we can still be together up there on the hill, " They stood for a minute and watched the southbound train race, wailing its way through poppy-reddened fields, _ “Gus, the woman's voice was tinged with wistfulness, “this is the first time in my life that a train whistle hasnttcalled ‘Come’. I'm home at last!” The teamsters, out of earshot now, opened an animated conversation. “Saloon keepers, huh? He looks like an old banker with that Van ‘Dyke beard, don't 'e?” "An'she,” the over-grown boy helper nodded, “she's the prettit¥ helper; catering to miners, transients and teamster's; serving them the most delicious food they had ever eaten, and making Mead's Roadhouse a happy place to be. Ella had an inexhaustible fund of stories for people in that mood; a kindly, cheering word for those introuble. Mead's Roadhouse (Deadfall, to the farmers) t Knew Them became famous from Marysville to the farthest pathways of the Sierras. 4 The Meads prospered far beyond their highest expectations. Money clinked on bar and table all day and was dropped carelessly in drawer and cupboard. Asifthe gods of success were not yet content, huge dredgers came, to whine and grumble--night and day--in the Yuba River channel andthe bright new town of Hammonton came into being. And Hammonton was a dry town, but Mead's was just across the way. Money rolled in but seemed to go out just as fast. Old friends down on their luck, securities that turned out wrong, and a way of life that encouraged extravagance, Sometimes the Meads . woridered where so much money — went, Butthey didn't worry. The pattern would always be about the same--the future looked good to Gus and Ella Mead. If sometimes through those years, aword, a face, or a fragrance brought searing memories to Ella Mead, memories of the old wonderful days of youth and soaring ambition, of love, respect and the family she had forfeited, she hurriedly buried them before they cut too deeply into her heart. And with the least of excuses she gave parties and the gayest of them all was Christmas Eve, inaw Tks Gus, in snowy jacket, pre-. sided over the punch bowl, free toall, and Ella, after creating a paradise of soft lights, flowers and greenery from far off Allegheny, kept close watch on Mrs, Brady's effort in the kitchen . Turkeys roasting, brown and juicy, their tender bodies bursting with sage and onion stuffing, vied with steaming mince pies, plum A happy wish for a Holiday of happiness, cheer and good =~ will to all our friends and customers. W.J. Smith sewerer 218 BROAD STREET, NEVADA CITY 9 o8eq* "E961 ‘9% Joquis0eq** *1088nN oy’ *9 o8eg