Chapter II: Part 2

The next one to come before the Committee was James Stuart, who was transported from England to Australia for forgery. It is not worth while to go into details on account of this man, for he confessed to crimes enough to hang him a dozen times. On the morning of July 11th, 1851, the taps on the bell of the Monumental Engine House summoned the entire Vigilance Committee. The prisoner was then allowed two hours grace, during which time the Rev. Dr. Mills was closeted with him in communion. After the expiration of the two hours, the condemned was led forth under a strong guard. He was taken down Battery street to the end of the Market street wharf, where everything had been previously arranged for the execution. Very soon after the procession reached the spot the fatal rope was adjusted and the condemned hoisted up by a derrick.

The hanging of Stuart seems to have been a very bungling piece of work, but this man's life was given to evil doing, and the great number of crimes confessed and committed by him would seem to say that he was not deserving of any more sympathy than which he got. This was a sorry spectacle, a human being dying like a dog, but necessity, which dared not trust itself to feelings of compassion, commanded the deed, and unprofitable sentiment sunk abashed.

Two more criminals and I am done with rough characters--Samuel Whittaker and Robert McKenzie, who had been arrested and duly and fairly tried by the Committee. They confessed their guilt and were condemned to be hanged. Their names being familiar and repulsive to all decent citizens. They were hanged side by side in public view on August 24th, 1851. The sight striking terror to the hearts of other evildoers, who were impressed by these examples that they could no longer be safe in San Francisco, such as had been suspected and notified by the Committee, quickly left the city; they, however, found no shelter in the interior.

This brings me to where I took up the Vigilance Committee of 1856.

San Francisco In 1847.

In view of the great and growing importance of the town of San Francisco (Yerba Buena), situated on the great bay of the same name, we will give our readers a few pertinent and fully reliable statements.

"The townsite, as recently surveyed, embraces an extent of one and one-half square miles. It is regularly laid out, being intersected by streets from 60 to 80 feet in width. The squares are divided into lots of from 16 1/2 varas (the Spanish yard of 33 1/3 inches) front and 50 deep, to 100 varas square. The smaller and more valuable of these lots are those situated between high and low water mark. Part of these lots were sold in January last at auction, and brought from $50 to $600. The established prices of 50 and 100 vara lots are $12 and $25.

San Francisco, last August, contained 459 souls, of whom 375 were whites, four-fifths of these being under 40 years of age. Some idea of the composition of the white population may be gathered from the following statement as to the nationality of the larger portion: English, 22; German, 27; Irish, 14; Scotch, 14: born in the United States, 228; Californians, 89.

Previously to the first of April, 1847, there had been erected in the town 79 buildings, nearly all of which had been erected within the two years preceding, whereas in the next four months 78 more had been constructed.

There can be no better evidence of the advantages and capabilities for improvement of the place than this single fact."--St. Louis "Reville," February 12, 1848.

John A. Sutter.

I remember standing on the bank of the Sacramento River, talking with Captain Sutter, in the fall of '49; he remarked, "I have moored my boats in the tops of those cottonwood trees, where the driftwood showed not less than 25 feet from the ground."

"The Plaza."

Portsmouth Square or the "Plaza," as we then called it, was located in the hub of the old settlement on the cove, and occupied half a block to the west of Kearny street, between Clay and Washington. It was the scene of all public meetings and demonstrations. It was named after the old sloop-of-war "Portsmouth," whose commanding officer, Captain Montgomery, landed with a command of 70 sailors and marines on July 8, 1846, raised the American flag here and proclaimed the occupancy of Northern California by the United States. A salute of twenty-one guns was fired from the "Portsmouth" simultaneously.

On the east side of Kearny street, opposite the Plaza, was the "El Dorado," a famous gambling saloon, adjoining which was the Parker House, afterwards the Jenny Lind Theatre, while on the north side of Washington street stood the Bella Union Theatre, and on the west on Brenham Place was the old Monumental Fire Engine House whose fire bell played so prominent a part in the days of the Vigilantes.

In the spring of 1850 the writer was in San Francisco, and made the acquaintance of Captains Egery and Hinkley, who were the owners of the Pacific Foundry. They being in need of some molding sand for small work, I consented to go to San Jose and get some for them. I engaged Mr. Watts, who had a little schooner that would carry about six tons. He was captain and I was super-cargo, and we made the trip down in about one day. I found what I wanted on the banks of a slough, loaded the schooner and returned to San Francisco. While in San Jose I came across two young ladies. I had a very pleasant chat with them. I learned later on that they were the daughters of Mr. Burnett, who became the first Governor of California. I heard no more of them until 1910, when I was on my way to Monterey to attend the unveiling of the Sloat Monument. I enquired for them of a man in the depot, and he told me that one of them was lying over there, dead (pointing in the direction), I could not help expressing my sorrow.

The captain landed me and my cargo in San Francisco in good shape, without any mishap on the voyage. I delivered the cargo in good order and was well paid.

Early Realty Values.

In 1850 I was in San Francisco and by chance was on Clay street where the city was selling 50-vara water lots in the neighborhood of Sansome, Battery and Front streets, at auction, $25 for inside lot, and $30 for corner lots. I stood there with my hands in my pockets, and gold dust and gold coin on my person that was a burden to me and bought not a single lot. There were many others who were in the same fix that I was. You may say, "What a lot of fools," and I would say, "Yes." Here is another little joke: Sometime before this I made a deposit of a sack of gold dust with Adams & Co.'s Express in San Francisco. When the time came for me to leave the city, I went into the office to draw my sack of dust. The clerk brought it forward at once and I said, "How much for the deposit?" He said, "Five dollars." Then I said, "You will have to take it out of the sack as I have no coin." He said, "Are you going to sell it?" "Yes," I said. "Well," said he, "You can sell it at the counter on the other side, and pay that clerk." "All right," said I, and sold my dust. It amounted to $425. He counted out the $25 in small change, and slipped it out onto the counter. I let it lay there until he had counted out the rest.

A Deal In "Slugs."

At this time the $50 slugs were in circulation. He counted out the $400 in a pile and took hold of the bottom one and set the pile over to my side of the counter, as much as to say, "There is your money." I said to him "There is five dollars coming to you for the deposit of the dust." He picked the five dollars out of the change on the counter. I picked up the balance of the change and put it into my pocket. I also picked up the pile of slugs by the bottom one in the same way that he handed them to me and dropped them into an outside pocket of my coat without counting them, and started for the four o'clock boat for Stockton. On my way to the wharf I thought that pile of slugs looked large and I took them out and counted them. I found that I had twelve instead of eight. I turned around and went back to the office, to the same counter and clerk, and said to him, "Do you rectify mistakes here?" He said, "Not after a man leaves the office." I said, "All right," and left the office and made the Stockton boat all right. But there were no insane asylums there at that time.

Harry Meiggs.

In the early fifties Honest Harry Meiggs (as he was called) was one of our most enterprising, generous and far-seeing citizens. His first venture was in the banking business. It was while engaged in this pursuit that he gained the name "Honest Harry Meiggs." His banking business was good for a year or so and then he conceived the idea of building a wharf at North Beach. It commenced at Francisco street between Powell and Mason streets. It extended north several hundred feet and was used for a landing place for lumber in the rough, to be conveyed to his mill on the South side of Francisco street near Powell. In order to accommodate the demands of trade an "L" was extended eastward from the end of his wharf. About this time he got into financial troubles. In October, 1854, he departed with his family for Chili between two days and passed out through the Golden Gate, and no more was heard of him for a long time. It finally became known that he was in Peru, engaged in building bridges for that government. He took contracts and was very successful and became well off in a few years. He sent an agent to San Francisco to hunt up all his creditors and pay them, dollar for dollar with interest. I knew a widow in San Francisco in the late '60s by the name of Rogers who was a creditor, who married a man by the name of Allen; I think that was in 1867. They went to Peru and saw Mr. Meiggs. He paid all she demanded, about $300. Allen returned and reported to the children that their mother died while in Peru of fever, but they never got a cent of the money.

Mr. Meiggs was born in New York in 1811 and died in Peru in 1877.

San Francisco's First Town Clock.

The first public clock ever erected in San Francisco was placed on the frontage of the upper story of a four-story building at Nos. 425-427 Montgomery street, that was being built by Alexander Austin. This was in 1852. The clock was ordered by him and brought via the "Panama Route" from New York, arriving in San Francisco on the steamer Panama.

Mr. Austin occupied the ground floor as a retail dry goods establishment and it was one of the first, if not the first, of any prominence in the city. He afterwards moved to the southeast corner of Sutter and Montgomery streets and continued there until 1869 when he was elected city and county tax collector.

The clock remained on the building until January 20th, 1886, when the then owner of the building, Mr. D. F. Walker, had it removed so as to arrange for the remodeling of the interior.

Mr. W. H. Wharff, the architect in charge of the remodeling, purchased the clock and retained it in his possession until November 24, 1911, when he presented it to the Memorial Museum of the Golden Gate Park, where the curator, Mr. G. H. Barron, placed it in the "Pioneer Room." It is to be seen there now.

Admission Day Flag.

Here is an interesting fact that has never been given publicity before, and I simply relate it as told me by Sarah Connell, the daughter of the man that carried it.

"Mr. D. S. Haskell, manager of the express and banking business of Adams & Co., conceiving the patriotic idea of having an American flag carried in the division of which his firm was to be a part, endeavored to procure an American flag, but found that nothing but flags of the size for ships or poles were to be had. He then started to find material from which to have one made, but in this he was unsuccessful also. So, undaunted, he at last found a dressmaker who lived somewhere in the neighborhood of Washington and Dupont streets, who found in her 'piece-bag' that she had brought from New York, enough pieces of silk and satin (they were not all alike) to make a flag three feet by two feet. He was so delighted with her handiwork that he gave her a $50 slug for her work[6].

"Thus it was that Adams & Co. were able to parade under the stars and stripes in that memorable parade of October 28, 1850, in celebration of the admission of California as a state into the union. After the parade Mr. Haskell presented the flag to their chief messenger, my father, Mr. Thomas Connell, and it has been in our possession since."

Mr. Thomas Connell.

Mr. Connell was one of the few of the early comers who never went to the mines, though of course, that was his intention. He started, but somewhere on the Contra Costa side--it was all Contra Costa then--he fell ill of malaria fever. There was no one with time to bother with a sick man and he was unable to proceed or return so he expected to end his life there. When the disease abated he concluded that he had no desire to penetrate further into the wilderness, so he turned his face towards San Francisco again. He was a shipwright by trade and though there was nothing doing in his line, he saw the possibilities of a boating business when there were no wharves, piers or other accommodations for freight or passengers. One of the curious uses to which his boats were put was the carrying of a water supply. They were chartered by a company and fitted with copper tanks which were filled from springs near Sausalito. On this side of the bay the water was transferred to wagons like those now used for street sprinkling and the precious fluid was supplied to householders at a remunerative rate of twenty-five cents a pail, every family having one or two hogsheads fitted with a spigot to hold the supply.

Mr. Connell also carried the first presidential message received in the State, rowing up the Sacramento River day and night in his own boat to deliver the document at the capitol, and for sake of the sentiment he also carried the last one received by steamer as far as Oakland, whence the delivery was completed by train.

Uncle Phil Roach, Happy Valley.

Uncle Phil Roach, editor and founder of the "San Francisco Examiner," lived on Clementina street near First. He was one of those good natured, genial old men that everybody liked, was at one time president of the Society of California Pioneers (1860-1), and later elected to the State Legislature. He afterwards acted as administrator of the Blythe estate, but died before its final settlement.

The place where he lived was called Happy Valley and the only entrance to it was at the intersection of Market, Bush and First streets, this crossing being at the east end of a sand dune about 30 feet high, extending westerly about half a mile. At this time the waters of the bay came up to the corner of Market and First streets, but it was not long before this, and many other sand dunes, disappeared, being scraped and carted off to fill the nearby mud flats.

There was at this time a little wharf 50 feet wide extending out into the cove from the foot of Clay street at Davis 1550 feet to a depth of 35 feet. It was called "Long Wharf." To the north of this wharf the water lapped what is now Sansome street for a block (to Washington street) and followed the shore line to the corner of Jackson and Montgomery streets.

Early Water Supply.

My mind drifts back to the days when our water system was dependent in part upon a well near the corner of Market and First streets. This was in 1855 when the population of San Francisco was between 40,000 and 50,000. I was then living on Third street near Mission and got my supply of water from a man named Somers who conveyed water about the city to his various customers in a cart. I took water from him for about three years at the rate of $1.50 per week.

Many's the time I have gone out to the Mission hunting rabbits. All that part of the city was as wild as it ever was, sand dunes and low grounds. About three years later a company built a plank toll road on Mission street from some point near the water front to the Mission, a distance of about three miles. This made an opening through the sand dunes and that section filled up rapidly.

Postoffice.

The postoffice was situated on the lot at the northwest corner of Washington and Battery streets. It was built in 1855. Previous to the erection of this building the pioneers obtained their mail from the postoffice on Clay street and Waverly Place, and on Clay street near Kearny opposite the Plaza (Portsmouth Square), and afterwards on Clay and Kearny streets. The great fire of 1852 destroyed these places. To avoid confusion and facilitate the delivery of the mail on the day the steamer arrived, long lines were formed of people who expected letters from home.

It was a frequent occurrence to see the same people standing in place all day waiting their turn, the delivery windows being arranged alphabetically. Oft-times persons would sell their places for as much as ten and even twenty dollars.

John Parrott.

John Parrott, the banker, was a good natured man and could take a joke with much grace. Here is one: "A broker came to him one day and said: 'Mr. Parrott, I want to borrow one thousand dollars on a lot of hams in the warehouse.' 'All right,' said Mr. Parrott. It went on for some time and Mr. Parrott looked around for his ham man, but could not find him, but he found the hams and the greater part of the weight of them was maggots. Mr. Parrot was very much disgusted. Time went on for a number of years and another man came to him to borrow money on hams in the warehouse. Mr. Parrott said to him, shaking his finger before the man's face, 'No more hams, no more hams,' and walked off." It was a standing joke on the street for a long time. This was late in the '50's.

In 1858-59 I built two very good houses on the south side of Howard street near Fourth. I lived in one of them about two years and then bought on the north side of Taylor street between Clay and Washington streets and resided there 17 years.

Pony Express.

I was present when the first messenger mounted his pony to start on the first trip across the continent. He started from Kearny street between Clay and Washington, opposite the "Plaza"--this was on the 3rd of April, 1860. It was a semi-weekly service, each rider to carry 15 pounds of letters--rate $5 per half ounce. Stations were erected about 25 miles apart and each rider was expected to span three stations, going at the rate of eight miles per hour. The first messenger to reach San Francisco from the East arrived April 14, 1860, and was enthusiastically received. Time for letters from New York was reduced to 13 days, the actual time taking from 10 1/2 to 12 days. The best horses and the bravest of men were necessary to make these relays, over the mountains, through the snow and across the plains through the Indian-infested country. The distance from San Francisco to St. Joseph, Mo., was 1996 miles and the service was established by Majors, Russell & Co., of Leavenworth, Kansas.

Now I will go back a few years and pick up a little experience that was scattered along the road. In 1861 I took my family around the bay for an outing in a private carriage. We went through San Mateo, Redwood City, Santa Clara, San Jose, Hot Springs, Hayward, San Leandro, Oakland and back to San Francisco by boat. We enjoyed the trip very much without any mishap to mar its pleasure.

A Venture In Flour.

About this time I bought out Loring & Mason who were in the retail grocery business on the corner of Taylor and Clay streets. This was another venture in which I had never had any experience, "But," said I, "Here goes for what there's in it." A few days later there came a man in his buggy from over the hill with whom I was very little acquainted. He had charge of the Empire warehouse in the lower part of the city. His name was Mr. Garthwait. He called at my store and said, "Woolley, I have a lot of Oregon Standard flour in the warehouse. The storage is paid for one month, and I will sell you what you want for $6 and three bits a barrel, and you can take it out from time to time as you like." After looking the situation over for a few minutes I came to the conclusion that I could not buy any lower. I said, "Well, I will take one hundred barrels." "All right," said he, and drove off. In a few days I went down and paid for it. About the middle of December 1861 it commenced to rain in the valleys and a few days later it rained in the mountains throughout the State, and the snow commenced to melt and that, together with the rain in the valleys, started the rivers to rising, and as the rivers went up so did the flour. The water gauge at Sacramento indicated feet and inches in going up while flour indicated dollars and cents in going up. On the first of January, 1862, it was still raining and the water coming down in a greater volume. Communication was cut off from all parts of the country except by water. The Legislature was in session that winter and was obliged to adjourn and go to San Francisco to finish its labors. In order that my readers may adequately realize the greatness of this flood it is no more than fair to say that the river boats from San Francisco went up J and K streets in Sacramento City and took people out of the second-story windows. Now, then we will call this high-water mark and flour $10 a barrel and going up. During this time I was letting my customers have what they wanted at the quotation price. It continued to advance about one dollar per day until it reached sixteen dollars per barrel. At this time I had very little left and it all went at that price. Very soon after this flour came in from Oregon and the price went down, as well as the water, and the market assumed a lower level and business went on as usual. It must be remembered that all transportation at this time was either by water or highway.

A Venture In Oil.

In this year was the beginning of the Civil War and for the benefit of those who came into active life later on I will give them a little of my experience in a small way. At the time I purchased the store of which I have spoken I took over a standing contract they had with a firm in Boston to send them a specified amount of coal oil around Cape Horn, as near six weeks as any vessel would be leaving for San Francisco. I took what was on the way at that time and the shipments were continued to me. At this time it took from sixty to seventy days to get answers to letters from the East. Time and business go on. We had on an average of about two steamers a month from New York with the mails. In 1862 the war tax and stamp act came in force. It was high and quite a hardship for some but everybody paid it cheerfully and with a good grace, and felt that they were getting off easy. About this time greenbacks came into circulation as money. It was legal tender and you could not refuse it. It made a great deal of hard feeling on many occasions but after a long time it set settled down to a premium on gold, which fluctuated from day to day. Finally the premium on gold was so high that currency was only fifty cents on a dollar, that is, one dollar in gold would buy two dollars in currency. On account of this many debtors would buy currency and pay their creditors with it. This was considered very crooked on the part of the debtor. I myself was a victim to some extent. The "Evening Bulletin" exposed a great many men by publishing their names but by so doing it made enemies and it did not last long. All bills rendered from this time on were made payable in United States gold coin. My coal oil cost me fifty cents per gallon in Boston, payable in currency. The freight was also payable in currency. Now my readers will readily see that my coal oil cost me a little over twenty-five cents per gallon laid down in San Francisco. About 1863 there was an unusual demand for coal oil and it was scarce and there was very little on the way around Cape Horn, consequently the market price went up very rapidly until it reached $1.50 and $1.75 per gallon. The result was that I sold all I had in the warehouse and on the way around the Horn. I kept what I had in the store for my retail trade. I do not look upon these speculations as any foresight of mine, but the change of circumstances and conditions of the market.

Flood of '61 and '62.

The great flood of '61 and '62 was an occasion seldom known in the State. Early in December '61 it commenced to rain in the valleys and snow in the mountains. In about two weeks it turned to rain in the mountains and valleys. The melting of the snow caused the rivers to rise very rapidly, the levees gave way and the waters flooded the city. The merchants commenced to put their goods on benches and counters, anywhere to keep them above water. Families who had an upper story to their house moved into it. The water continued to rise until it reached a point so that the boats running between Sacramento and San Francisco went up J and K streets and took people out of the second story of their houses. The islands were all flooded and there was great suffering along the river besides the great loss of property. This flood did more damage than any high water since '49, but it was as an ill wind as far as it concerned my business, as I related previously.

Civil War Times In S. F.

In 1861 Dr. Wm. A. Scott, pastor of the Calvary Presbyterian church, on the north side of Bush street between Montgomery and Sansome streets, closed his services praying for the presidents of the Union and of the Confederate States. As soon as the benediction was pronounced Mrs. Thomas H. Selby smuggled him out of the side door into her carriage and off to her home, fearing the congregation, which had became a seething mob, might capture and do him bodily harm. There was no demonstration at this time but the next morning there was to be seen in effigy Dr. Scott's form hanging from the top of the second story of a building in course of construction on the same block. It created some excitement for the time being, but it soon simmered out.

Lloyd Tevis was getting badly frightened about this time for fear his home on the corner of Taylor and Jackson streets would be destroyed and appealed to the police for protection. He was told to go home and drape his home in black. This he did most effectually, the occasion being the assassination of President Abraham Lincoln.

One of the exciting times in San Francisco in 1865 was when a mob went to the office of "The Examiner" on Washington street near Sansome and carried everything that was movable into the street and piled it up with the intention of burning. It seems that this paper was so pronounced in its sympathy with the cause of the Confederacy that it aroused such a feeling as to cause drastic measures. The police authorities were informed of what was going on and Colonel Wood, captain of police, got a squad of policemen together and proceeded to the scene, but their movements were so slow that it was hard to tell whether they were moving or not and by the time they had reached the place the boys had carried off nearly everything that had been thrown out. I have two pieces of type now that I picked up in the street about that time.

Uncle Phil Roach, the editor, was in later years a member of the State Legislature and tried to get an appropriation to cover his loss but his efforts were of no avail.

President Lincoln and Gen. Vallejo.

President Lincoln in the early part of the Civil War called General Vallejo to Washington on business. While there General Vallejo suggested to Mr. Lincoln that the United States build a railroad into Mexico, believing as he said, it would be a benefit to both nations. Mr. Lincoln smilingly asked, "What good would it do for our people to go down to Mexico even if the railroads were built? They would all die of fever and according to your belief go down yonder," with a motion of his hand towards the supposed location of the infernal regions. "I wouldn't be very sorry about that," remarked General Vallejo coolly. "How so?" said Mr. Lincoln. "I thought you liked the Yankees." "So I do," was the answer. "The Yankees are a wonderful people, wonderful. Wherever they go they make improvements. If they were to emigrate in large numbers to hell itself, they would somehow manage to change the climate."

Off to the Nevada Mines.

Uncle Billy Rodgers, from Peoria, Ill., was a fellow passenger of mine when crossing the plains in 1849 in the first division of the "Turner, Allen & Co. Pioneer Mule Train," consisting of 40 wagons, 150 mules and 150 passengers. He was a gambler before he left home and he gambled all the way across the plains. Many people think that a gambler has no heart but this man was all heart. I knew him on one occasion, after visiting a sick man in camp, to take off his shirt and give it to the sick man and go about camp for an hour to find one for himself.

We arrived in California on September 10, 1849. We parted about that time and I saw no more of him until the winter of '68 and '69 when I was on my way to White Pine in Nevada. We had to lay over a few days at Elko, Nevada, in order to get passage in the stage. As we had saddles and bridles we made an effort to get some horses and furnish our own transportation, and we had partly made arrangements with a man by the name of Murphy. The day previous to this I overheard a conversation between two gentlemen sitting at the opposite end of a red hot stove. After they parted I approached the one left and said, "Is this Uncle Billy?" He said, "Yes, everybody calls me 'Uncle Billy' but I do not know you." I gave him my name and he was as glad to see me as I was to see him. We had a long and very pleasant chat.

Now to take up the line of march where I left off, I said, "Hold on boys a little while I go and see a friend of mine." "All right," said they. I called on Uncle Billy and told him what we were doing and asked him what kind of a man Murphy was, and his answer was, "He's a very good blacksmith," and repeated it two or three times, then said, "I am in a wild country and never say anything against anybody." I said, "That's enough Uncle Billy, I understand you thoroughly." I parted with him and we took the stage for Hamilton and Treasure Hill. The last I heard of Uncle Billy was that he went north as an escort to some party and died there. Uncle Billy was a gambler all his life but not a drinker. His heart, his hand and his pocket were ever open and ready to respond to the relief of the distress of others. The writing of the above calls to mind another meeting with Uncle Billy of which I had lost sight, the date of which I cannot fix. I think it was in the first half of '60 I met him on the street in San Francisco and our meeting was most cordial. We had a very pleasant street visit and he said to me, "Woolley, I am going home, I shall take the next steamer for New York." I said to him, "How are you fixed, Uncle Billy?" He said, "I have eleven thousand dollars and I am going home." I congratulated him for his courage and good luck and wished him a pleasant voyage and a happy reunion with his old friends. About a week later I met Uncle Billy on the street again and said to him, "How is this Uncle Billy, I thought you were going home on the last steamer?"

"Yes," said he, "I thought so too; at the same time, I thought I would just step into a faro bank and win just enough to pay my passage home so that I would have even money when I got home. But instead of that I lost every dollar I had and I am going back into the mountains again. My readers know the rest."

My friends this is only one of thousands who had the same experience.

In 1868 "the girl I left behind me" went East on a visit of six months, taking with her our two children.

In the fall of that year (1868) I went to White Pine in Nevada. It was a very cold trip for me and I came home in June "thawed out," sold out my grocery business and went into the produce commission business and followed it for ten years.

Martin J. Burke.

Chief of Police Martin J. Burke I knew very well in the early sixties. He was a genial and good natured man, well liked by everybody who knew him. I went to him one time with a curb bit for a bridle which would bring the curb rein into action with only one pair of reins. He was much pleased with it and used one for a long while. George C. Shreve, the jeweler, had one also, as did Charles Kohler, of the firm of Kohler & Frohling, wine men of San Francisco. He offered me $3000 for my right but I refused it. I applied for a patent only to find that another was about twenty years ahead of me.

The Donahue Brothers.

James, Peter and Michael Donahue, the founders of the Union Iron Works on First and Mission streets, were three honorable, upright and just men. Their works have since been removed to the Potrero south of the Third and Townsend streets depot of the Southern Pacific Co., and have of late passed into the hands of the United Steel Corporation. They are the largest of their kind on the Pacific Coast and stand a monument to their founders. James Dunahue built and owned the Occidental Hotel on Montgomery street between Sutter and Bush streets. Peter Donahue had the foundry and machine shop. At one time there was a little misunderstanding understanding between the two and they did not speak to each other for quite a while. During this time Peter started to build an addition of brick on the north side of the foundry, got up one story and stopped. The two brothers met one day opposite the unfinished building and James said, "Peter why don't you go on and finish your building?" Peter replied, "I have not got money enough." "Oh!" said James, "go ahead and finish it up and I will let you have all the money you want." 'From that time on they resumed their brotherly relations. Peter went on in his business. His last venture was to build the Petaluma railroad. Both are now dead. Michael went East early in the '50s and I knew very little of him.

The Take of A Young Bull.

In 1870 I was in the produce commission business in San Francisco and had a consignor in Vacaville by the name of G. N. Platt who had been presented with a fine young bull by Frank M. Pixley, who lived in Sausalito, in the hills about two miles from town. Mr. Platt requested me to go and get the bull and ship him to Vacaville, so I left next morning for Sausalito. Here I sought a man who could throw the lasso. After two hours I found the man I wanted. He had the mustangs and all the necessary equipment. We mounted and left for Mr. Pixley's residence where we were informed that the animal we wanted was somewhere in the hills with the other cattle. This was rather indefinite information, but we had to make the best of it and started out. Our mustangs were well calculated for the occasion and we went over the hills like kites. Finally we saw some cattle about a mile away and we made for them, found what we were in search of and made for him. He had horns about two inches long and was as light on his feet as a deer, and gave us a lively chase for about one hour. When we had him at the end of a rope he was determined to go just the opposite way than we wanted him to, but the man and the mustang at the other end of the rope had their way part of the time, so after about two hours hard fighting we succeeded in getting the little fellow down to the wharf where I found that there would not be another boat until after dark, so I concluded to wait and come over in the morning and ship him. The next thing was to dispose of the bull for the night. I said, "Here is a coal bunker, we will put him in here." So after getting permission we started for it with the bull at one end of the rope and the vaquero at the other. The bull got a little the better of the man and went up the wharf full tilt with the vaquero in tow. The vaquero said, "There is a post on the wharf, the bull will go one side and I will go the other and round him up." But he got rounded up himself and left sprawled out on the wharf. This let the curtain down for the night and the bull went back to the hills with the rope. I returned to San Francisco, went back in the morning, hunted up my man and mustangs, mounted and went into the hills again for my bull. This was a bully ride, I enjoyed it hugely, found our game about noon, picked up the rope with the bull on the end of it. He was still wild and full of resistance. He was the hardest fellow of his size that I ever attempted to handle. We made our way back to the landing, found the boat waiting. I called the boat hands to help put him on board. They came. I put one at his head, one on each side and one behind, and they all had as much as they wanted to keep control of him. Finally he was made fast on the boat. While on our way to San Francisco a lady from the upper deck called down to me, saying, "I will give you one hundred dollars for that bull." I said, "No, madam, you cannot have him, he is going into the country for business."

After landing in San Francisco I had to take him from one wharf to another so as to take the Vacaville boat. I got a job wagon and the boat hands to take him out and tie the fellow to the hind axle of the wagon and then go by his side to the other boat. We fastened him securely to a stanchion and tagged to his destination. This relieved me of any further responsibility. I saw him about three years later in Vacaville. He was a fine large fellow with all the fire in his eye that he had in his younger days. He had a large ring in his nose with a chain running from it to the end of each horn. Now as my readers have had the bear story, and now the bull story, they will excuse me on those two subjects.

Admission Day 1875.

Another event that might be of interest and worthy of reciting here on account of the many noted personages that partook in the celebration was the ceremonies connected with the 25th anniversary of the admission of California as a State into the Union, September 9, 1875.

The principal places of business, banks and offices were all closed and the buildings and streets were gaily bedecked with flags and bunting. The "bear flag" being in evidence everywhere. The shipping presented a pretty sight, the vessels seeming to outvie each other in their efforts to display the greatest amount of bunting and flags.

One of the features of the day was the parade. The procession started from in front of the Hall of the Pioneers on Montgomery street north of Jackson, marched along Montgomery to Market, to Eleventh, to Mission and thence to Woodward's Gardens, where the exercises were held. When opposite the Lick House, James Lick, the honored president of the society, who reviewed the passing pioneers from his rooms, was given a rousing salute by each of the delegations as they passed. In this parade were members of the pioneer organizations from Sacramento, Stockton, Marysville, Vallejo, Sonoma, Marin, Napa, Mendocino, Lake and Placerville, as well as the parent organization of San Francisco.

The escort consisted of the 1st, 2nd and 3rd Regiments, 2nd Brigade, N. G. C., Col. W. H. L. Barnes, Col. John McComb and Col. Archie Wason, respectively. Brig. Gen. John Hewston, Jr., commanding. Marshal Huefner and his aide followed. Next came the several visiting pioneer organizations, then the carriages of invited guests, orator, reader and others. Then the home society, turning out 427 strong.

Among the persons of note to have been seen and who wore the golden badge indicating that they had come here prior to 1849, were Carlos F. Glein, A. A. Green, A. G. Abel, George Graft, W. P. Toler, Thos. Edgar, G. W. Ross, P. Kadel, F. Ballhaus, W. C. Hinckley, H. B. Russ, A. G. Russ, Owen Murry, B. P. Kooser, J. E. Winson, Arthur Cornwall, E. A. Engleberg, Wm. Jeffry, Capt. Hinckley, Wm. Huefner, Thos. Roche, F. G. Blume, John C. Ball and Thomas Eagar.

Among the others present were Ex-Gox. Low, Mayor Otis, Ex-Sen. Cole, Chas. Clayton, Paul K. Hubbs of Vallejo, Eleazer Frisbie, L. B. Mizner, Niles Searles, F. W. McKinstry and Dr. O. M. Wozencraft, a member of the First Constitutional Convention of California.

In the Sonoma delegation were Nicholas Carriger, ex-president and director; Wm. Hargrave, a member of the original Bear Flag Party of 1846, Mrs. W. M. Boggs and Mrs. A. J. Grayson, who came here in 1846 in advance of the Donner party.

In the Vallejo delegation were John Paul Jones Donaldson, then 84 years old, who was on this coast as early as 1823 and who came back to reside here in 1848.

Wm. Boggs and his delegation from Sonoma were mostly all 1846 arrivals.

James W. Marshall, the man who discovered gold at Coloma, about 45 miles northeast from Sacramento, on January 19th, 1848, was with the Sacramento delegation. He was then 67 years old, hale and hearty.

Mr. Murphy, a survivor of the Donner party, was with the Marysville delegation.

In addition to these were many others who have since become well known through their doings in the political arena and business world, and have made names for themselves that are honored and respected to this day and will ever find a place in this State's history.

At the Pavilion in Woodward's Gardens the literary services were held. D. J. Staples, acting-president, delivered a stirring address, rehearsing the events of the past 25 years.

Dr. J. B. Stillman then followed with an oration in which he spoke of the gold discovery in California, the effect upon the East of Col. Mason's report, the sudden influx of seekers of the "Golden Fleece" by sea and overland, of their hardships and endurance, and their experiences at the mines, etc., etc.

Mr. J. B. Benton read a poem by Mrs. James Neall.

The literary exercises were followed by a lunch and that by an entertainment of mixed character. Billy Emerson, Ben Cotton, Billy Rice, Ernest Linden, F. Oberist, W. F. Baker, J. G. Russell and Billy Arlington of Maguire's Minstrel Troupe, and W. S. Lawton, Capt. Martin and L. P. Ward, and the Buisley family being among the entertainers.

A balloon ascension followed the entertainment and during the day the "Great Republic" made an excursion around the bay.

On an S. P. Pay-Car.

In the summer of 1874 the paymaster of the Southern Pacific Railroad Company, Major J. M. Hanford, sent me an invitation to accompany him on the pay car through the San Joaquin Valley, to pay off the employees of the company. I was delighted to have an opportunity of going through the valley. At the appointed time I was on hand with two boxes of cigars, for I knew the Major was likely to have some lively, good natured fellows with him, and I wanted to have something with me to help me along. Now I must say something about this pay car, for it was a wonderful thing for me. It had the appearance on the inside of a hotel on wheels. At the rear end was a window through which the employees were paid; the depth of the room in which were the pay master and his two check clerks, was about the same as the width of the car. In it were the safe, rifles, shotguns, pistols, ammunition galore, with an opening into what was used as the dining room and berths, which would accommodate about 12 people. Then came the cook's room on one side, with a narrow passageway on the other, into a small room in the front end of the car. This car was sixty feet in length and would make you think you were in a palace hotel on wheels. Hank Small, who had hands as big as a garden spade, was the engineer, with engine No. 96, which was always expected to pull the pay car. Then there was a man by the name of Olmsby who was one of the check clerks, young and very fine looking. Then there was another man in the employ of the company by the name of Gerald who was auditor for the company and had feet twice as large as any other man. Now I want my readers to hold these three men in mind and their peculiarities for I shall refer to them later on.

We are all now seated at the supper table, ten in all, and all railroad men except myself, with the dignified paymaster at the head of the table and his check clerk, Olmsby, at the foot, who assumed the duty of saying grace by making motions around his chest and head, accompanied with these words, "Bucksaws filed and set." This created some amusement and was the only time it occurred. The supper went on and the tables were cleared away, and then there was chatting and story telling. Finally I started to tell a story and had gotten fairly into it when I suddenly discovered that every man in the room was sound asleep. It did not take me long to wake them up and have every man on his feet or on the floor. This did not last long, for I brought out one of my boxes of cigars and that settled the question right there. The next day we were in the San Joaquin Valley and continued the trip, paying the men as we went along, until we reached Bakersfield. This was the end of the road at that time. Then we returned to Stockton, to Sacramento, to Red Bluff, which was the end of the road in that direction at that time. From there we returned to San Francisco, having had a very fine and agreeable trip, and each one returned to his former allotted position. I at this time was in the produce commission business on Washington street near Front street. Inside of a year Mr. Olmsby left the railroad company, married and went to Chico, in the Sacramento Valley, to run a stationery store. In 1876, the year that President Hayes was elected, his wife gave birth to a child and Olmsby sent a telegram to Mr. Hanford reading like this: "Boy, born last night, has Gerald's feet, Hank Small's hands, my good looks, and hollered for Hayes all night."

Employ of the Southern Pacific.

In 1884 I went into the employ of the Southern Pacific Co. where I remained for twenty years. In 1904 on account of a rule of the company pertaining to long service and age, I was retired on a pension. I protested, they insisted, I accepted (because I could not help myself). The company was right and I appreciated the pension as they appreciated my services. In all those years I had no reason to complain of the company.

Shortly after my retirement from the employ of the Southern Pacific Company I had sickness in my family and lost "the girl I left behind me," after fifty-three years of happy married life. This was in 1906, it is now 1913, and I am still behind, but I shall get there bye-and-bye and we will go on together side by side.

Sloat Monument.

On June 4, 1910, I went to Monterey, Calif., to attend the ceremonies of the unveiling and dedication of the Sloat Monument at the Presidio of Monterey. The idea, conception and putting through to a successful termination of the erection of this monument, was the work of, we might say, one man, Major Edwin A. Sherman, V. M. W. It has taken the greater part of his time for twenty-four years. A large proportion of the money necessary was raised by subscription, but things lagged for a while, when the Major applied to the U. S. Congress for an appropriation of $10,000 to complete the work and got it. The monument was then finished under the supervision of Lieutenant-Colonel John Biddle.

At the dedication which was held under the auspices of the Grand Lodge of Masons, Col. C. W. Mason, U. S. A., delivered the address of welcome, Major Sherman gave a brief sketch of the work and Lt.-Col. Biddle made a few remarks. M. W. W. Frank Pierce, 33rd degree Mason, officiated.

The monument was erected to commemorate the raising of the American Flag at Monterey, the capital of California, July 7, 1846, by the forces under command of Com. Jonathan Drake Sloat, U. S. N. War had been declared between the U. S. and Mexico.

Nob Hill.

In later days, about 1877, the term Nob Hill was applied to the crown of California street from Powell street westward three blocks to Jones street, on account of its having been selected by the railroad magnates of the State upon which to build their new homes, it being their desire to live together in their home life as well as in their business life.