THE
ARGONAUTS OF CALIFORNIA.
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CHAPTER XXI.
THEIR NAMES UNKNOW--THE TYPES OF MEN IN THE MINES--PIKE’S ILLUSTRATION
OF MISSOURI CHARACTER--BOB THE FIDDLER--THE POWER OF MUSIC ILLUSTRATED--JOHN
KELLEY THE MUSICIAN--JOE BOWERS--JEFF VISITS PIONEER HALL--OLD MINERS IN SAN
FRANCISCO.
DURING a lull in the
conversation about this time, it was mentioned by an old miner as a singular
circumstance, that although the old-timers present had been acquainted with
each other for nearly forty years, he would bet his old blind mule, that was
hitched to the fence outside, “agin a chew of tobacco,” they couldn’t tell the
names of one another, which was found upon trial to be the case.
“Well, boys,” said Yank, “in old times we
didn’t ask the name of a man; but whar are you from was the main question, the
information to be desired, and many had become so accustomed to satisfying
their curiosity upon this point that in course of time it was possible to tell
with some certainty what State a man was from by his general appearance. For in
those early times, when the various States were more thinly settled than at
present, the individuals of each State possessed some peculiarity of form,
feature, or, their pronunciation of certain words, by which they could be
distinguished, that is, by any one who took the trouble to study the
differences between them. For instance, an acquaintance of mine in early days
who had from curiosity studied the peculiarities of the emigrants from the
various States, said that he could tell, as soon as he laid his eyes upon a new
comer, what State the latter was from.
“There” said he, “do you see them chaps
a-digging that tail race by the foot of the hill? Well, they are from away down
East, the State of Maine. See, they are large, heavy framed, tall and awkward
in their movements, and when they walk their long arms swing about like the
arms of a windmill. Notice how angular their bodies
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are. That is caused by
friction in circulating about among the granite boulders of their native State.
The Vermonters are tall, like their neighbors, but of better build. Now down
yonder beyond the bridge you notice a number of men at work. Well that first
gang is from Massachusetts, and the gang below them comes from Connecticut.
Now, you see, although they are all New Englanders, yet they differ very much
from the boys of Maine. They are, as a general rule, of shorter stature, with
short arms, and more compactly built. But although the boys from the New
England States differ very much in their general appearance, yet there is one
trait peculiar to them, by which, as a general rule they can be distinguished
from the boys of many of the other States, I mean of course here in the mining
regions, and that is they are industrious, and are little inclined to waste
their time in loafing around among the saloons and gambling houses.
“There, do you see them boys over there
upon the other side of the creek. Now, they are from Ohio. There is no
mistaking their native State, for they have all that peculiar look, form and
build.
“They are, as a rule, above the medium in
height; heavy built, broad shouldered, but bones small and compact, with full
faces and almost always with a round head and nose of the snub order.
“Like the New England boys, they are
generally industrious and do not fool away much time around among the liquor
shops. Now do you see those chaps over there by the mill. Well, their State is
near Ohio, yet they are a different class of people. The difference is that
when you run afoul of a man of that appearance, you can just bet he is from the
State of Illinois. You see that the most of them have strait sandy hair, with
whiskers to match, sharp features, and as a general rule wear freckles upon
their countenances; but then they are industrious and good natured. And now”
said he’ where do you suppose those boys are from, who are building the log
cabin on the point below there? Do you notice their sharp features, coarse,
strait black hair and that they are slim built and round shouldered too? Well,
them chaps are from New Jersey. Now just observe the difference between them
and the two chaps coming up the trail beyond with their mining tools upon their
shoulders. Now, there is a type of man different in many respects from all
others who come into the mining regions. You notice that they are tall, but
heavy built, and walk erect like soldiers on parade. They have
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sandy hair; ‘tis rather long
and you notice that ‘tis inclined to curl, with chin whiskers and mustache to
match. You notice also that they wear a pleasant smile, an indication that they
are good natured, and so they are; but if a chap for any reason sees fit to
intimate to one of them that he is a prevaricator, he must break the news to
him gently, in a kind of a quiet subdued sort of style, from a distance, or
from the opposite side of a big stump, for the application of the term ‘liar’
to one of that breed of men, will cause a monstrous bowie-knife to fly from his
boot leg, and woe to the man it is aimed at.”
“Yes,” interrupted Tennessee, “that
reminds me of a Dutchman up on Bear river, in ‘50, who had some trouble with
one of those chaps about a mining claim, and he said to one of them ‘you vas
told von big lie. As the Dutchman saw him reach down for his bowie knife, he
started to run, but the knife was too quick for him, and the heavy ivory handle
struck him alongside of his head and knocked him down. He saw the flash of the
sun upon the polished blade as it came towards him, and when he became
conscious, some one asked what was the matter?
“’Oh, mine gracious, he answered; ‘some
big flash of dose lightings shust comes after mit me, und I dinks dot I was
dunder struck.’
“Well those boys are from Mississippi. But
a few of them however, ever come into the mining regions. They were generous
and free hearted, and a fair specimen of American character from that portion
of the country.”
Yank resumed by saying that although ‘twas
often difficult to tell with certainty what State a man was from by his general
appearance, yet a Northern man could almost always be distinguished from one
who was of Southern birth.
“To illustrate” continued he, “my old pard
said, There do you see the boys standing there in front of the cabin? They are
rather tall, strait, with short black hair, their complexion rather dark, and
you notice that they have no beards; the cheek bones are high too. Now, those
boys are from the Blue Grass regions of Kentucky; full of fun, and would rather
climb around among the mountains and cañons, with their heavy
rifles on their shoulders, than to work at mining in the hot sun.”
It being evident now that Yank had
concluded his explanation of the various types of men found in the mining
region in early
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days, old Pike arose to his
feet and demanded to know if he meant to insult his native State by passing over
it and not noticing it at all.
“Why,” said he, “haint we got no keracter
at all down thar?”
Yank answered him that as he was present
to speak for his own State he ought to do so, and they would listen to him.
“Well,” said Pike, “there was a right smart
chance of our boys from old Missouri thet come out inter Californy long in ‘50,
an’ I tell ye, boys, thet dern my buttons if I jest wern’t ashamed of some on
‘em myself. But them Pike County chaps was from the frontier, yer know, and of
course er couldn’t expect anything better. But when yer come to talk
old-fashioned forty-year ago chaps, ther real stub an’ twist style of Missouri
gentlemen, why, if yer jest mix together every good pint that yer can find in
all ther rest on ‘em from ther t’other States, bile’em all down in a big
kittle, an’ when ‘its cooled down a spell take off the kiver, an’ yer’ll find
in the bottom on it one of yer rale old-fashioned Missouri gentlemen, cooked
clean through, too, you bet. Thar wen’t no marrer in ther backbones nuther,
cause they was chuck full ‘er sand, an’ ther wen’t no room for marrer, and they
didn’t hev no superiors any whar. Now, ther’t my opinion of them chaps in
Missouri. What’s yer opinion, pard?”
“Oh, well,” replied Yank, “if we take you
for a sample, Pike, maybe you are not far out of the way.”
Yank asked Jersey if he had ever, during
his travels around the country, come across one of his old pardners whom they
called Bob the Fiddler.
“Yes,” answered Jersey, “but he went East
about fifteen years ago, with quite a fortune that he made up on the Trinity
River. He was a fine young chap, but some of the boys in the company were
terribly down on him when we first went into the mines in ‘49. You see, before
we sailed from New York there were ten of us who concluded to form a company by
ourselves and work together, just as a great many others did who came around
Cape Horn, and who intended to go into the mines. These companies were nearly
all broken up upon their arrival in the mines, because it was soon found that
there were many lazy ones among them who were not willing to do their share of
the work. But our company seemed to get
Page 307 Illustration.
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along first rate, and every
man was willing to do his part of the work except Bob. We worked together as a
company, however, for nearly two years, until some of the boys concluded to go
home again. When we first commenced mining we came pretty near breaking up on
account of Bob, but fortunately we did not, and I’ll explain why we didn’t. You
see we were working a rich claim in Georgetown cañon in the fall
of ‘49; ‘twas good ounce diggings, and we were all anxious to get out all we
could before the heavy rains commenced in the winter, but the trouble was that
Bob wouldn’t do his share of the work, and consequently there was a good deal
of grumbling, and four or five of the boys were determined not to divide with
him a share of our week’s work upon the Saturday night following, and declared
that if he was paid a share of it they would quit and break up the company.
Now, Bob was a first rate fellow, good natured and always full of his jokes and
fun; was always ready and willing to run errands or work about the cabin, but
he was used to hard work and would only work in the mine a few hours each day.
But Bob was a good fiddler and singer, and I tell you, boys, after the day’s
work was done we liked to hear him start in on his music. Well, fiddle-strings
were a scarce article up in the mines then, and some of Bob’s strings breaking
we had to get along without music for awhile; but one Saturday Bob heard of a
man who worked in a cañon a few miles above, and who had just come
up from San Francisco, bringing an assortment of fiddle-strings with him. This
was good news for Bob, so he threw down his pick and shovel about ten o’clock
A. M. and made tracks for the cañon.
“It was then that the dissatisfied ones
determined that Bob should either leave the company or they would, for they had
made up their minds not to work any more for a man who wouldn’t do his share.
“The balance of us, however, thought too
much of Bob to have him turned out of the company, and agreed if they would
overlook Bob’s faults that we would work a little harder to make up for his
delinquency. We were thus engaged in talking and endeavoring to arrange the
difficulty along in the afternoon, when we heard the sound of Bob’s violin up
on the hill above. Upon looking up we saw him seated upon a log under the shade
of an oak. We all stopped work and seated ourselves upon the most convenient
places
Page 309 Illustration.
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to listen to the music, and
for more than two hours we sat there listening to the old familiar tunes,
played and sung by Bob, of ‘Auld Lang Syne,’ ‘Sweet Home,’ ‘Ben Bolt,’ ‘Do they
Miss Me at Home,’ ‘The Old Folks at Home,’ as well as other songs that we had
often heard among our friends and acquaintances at home. Well, the effect of
this was that upon making a division at night Bob received his full share. Not
a word of complaint was made against him by anyone then or ever afterwards, and
he was given to understand that if he would, after the day’s work was done and
we had lighted our pipes for the evening smoke, make our lonely evenings more
cheerful by playing the old familiar airs, that he could jest work when or as little
as he pleased on the claim.”
At this point an old-timer, who previous
to this had been silent, remarked that but few persons are aware of the
wonderful power of music, and its effect upon the mind under certain
conditions. But of course we do not realize its magic influence except when
placed as we were in early days so far from home and living, as you might say,
in a semi-civilized condition among the mountains of a new country, that these
old familiar songs that we heard in our younger days seem to strike with full
force, and awaken memories that have lain dormant for many years perhaps.
“I remember a little incident,” he
continued, “that occurred in early days in a small mining camp upon Murderer’s
Bar on the Middle Fork of the American River, which illustrates this wonderful
power of music.
“A young man from one of the Southern
States was mining upon the bar. He had a good paying claim, but he got to
drinking and spent most of his time
loafing around among the saloons, and in
a few months he got down about as low as ‘twas possible for a man to get. He
was in one of the gambling saloons one evening in company with two or three
others who were about as low and degraded as he was, sitting at a table engaged
in their usual game of poker, when all at once he arose to his feet and stood
attentively listening to the music, a song that was being sung, and played on a
violin, at the other end of the room. At the conclusion of the song he threw
his cards upon the floor, and said that he had played his last card and drank
his last drink, for that song that John Kelly had just sung had brought him to
his senses, for ‘twas the last piece he heard his sister sing when he left home
a few years before.
Page 311 Illustration.
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“’And, boys,’ said he ‘from this time
forward I lead a different life.’”
It was remarked by another that this same
John Kelly was yet living, he believed.
He was a good musician as well as singer,
and in early days played around in all various mining camps.
“Why,” said Jeff, “I have known miners who
had worked hard all day to tramp several miles into camp through mud and rain
to hear Kelly play and sing favorite song that their sisters, or some other
fellow’s sister, had been accustomed to sing a few years before away at the
other side of the continent.”
Some one asked old Pike if he had
forgotten the song entitled “Joe Bowers” that he used to sing to the boys in
Georgetown cañon
in early days. He replied that he hadn’t sung it for many long years, but if
they desired to hear it he would sing it. The clear voice sang the old and
long-forgotten ballad, and as it may be new to many and will recall to
old-timers the scenes and incidents of early days, I give the words for their
benefit:
JOE
BOWERS.
My name it is Joe Bowers,
I’ve got a brother Ike;
I came from old Missouri,
yes, all the way from Pike.
I’ll tell you why I left
thar, and how I came to roam,
And to leave my poor old
mammy so fur away from home
I used to court a girl thar,
her name was Sally Black,
I axed her if she’d marry me,
she said it was a whack;
But then she says, “Joe
Bowers, before we hitch for life,
You ought to git a little
home to keep yer little wife.”
Oh, Sally, dearest Sally! Oh,
Sally, for your sake,
I’ll go to California and try
to raise a stake.
Says she to me, “Joe Bowers,
you are the man to win,
Here’s a kiss to bind the
bargin,” and she hove a dozen in.
When I got to that country I
hadn’t “nary red,”
I had such wolfish feelings I
almost wished I was dead;
But the thoughts of my dear
Sally soon made them git,
And whispered hopes to Bowers
- I wish I had’em yit.
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Right soon I went to minin’,
put in my biggest licks,
Came down upon the boulders
jest like a thousand o’ bricks.
I worked both late and early,
in sun, in rain, in snow,
I was workin’ for my Sally - ‘twas all the same to Joe.
Bime by I got a letter from
my dear brother Ike;
It came from old Missouri -
all the way from Pike;
I brought to me the dernest
news that ever you did hear--
My heart is almost burstin’,
so pray excuse this tear.
It said Sal was false to me,
her love for me had fled,
She’d got married to a
butcher; the butcher’s head was red,
And more than that, the
letter said--it almost makes me swar--
That Sally had a baby, the baby
had red hair.
So now I’ve told you all
about this very sad affair,
‘Bout Sally marryin’ a
butcher, a butcher with red har;
But whether it ‘taws a boy or
gal child, the letter never said,
It only said the baby’s har
was “inclined to be red.”
________
Some years have passed since
Bowers told his very plaintive tale;
Time smoothed his grief,
revived his hopes, his courage did not fail;
He worked along as best he
could, and his dear brother Ike
Kept Joseph pretty well posted
on matters back in Pike.
Smallpox it knocked the
butcher out, and Joe he wandered home;
He “Played for even” with
success, and cares no more to roam;
Joe married Sally and the
shop, he soothed her loving heart,
And now he has her red-haired
son to drive the butcher cart.
“Oh, by the way, Jeff” asked one of the
boys, “did you visit Pioneer Hall when you was down to the Bay?”
“Yes, indeed, I did,” answered Jeff, “and
an acquaintance of mine handed in my name for admission as a member of the
society.”
“They say ‘tis a fine building, Jeff.”
“Yes, it is, and it is the headquarters
for the old boys to meet and talk over old times.”
“Well, are there many old miners among
them?” asks another.
“No, I don’t think there are, boys. I saw
a great many of the
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old pioneers around, but none
of them looked as though they ever roughed it much in the mines.”
“Oh, well,” said Jersey, “living down
there you know, sporting store clothes and such things, of course, would make
the old miners appear more like gentlemen, you know, in a little while.”
“Oh, yes,” remarked Pike, “and maybe when
we go down thar, boys, and put on ther biled shirt and tother fixins, why
they’ll take us for gentlemen, too. You bet they will.”
“One sight I saw there,” remarked Jeff,
“which astonished me very much, was the children of the pioneers. They held a
fandango there in the hall upon the evening of admission day, and from
curiosity I just dropped in for a few minutes to see the little folks enjoy
themselves. Children! Well, boys, you would be astonished to see them, for
instead of a lot of little children, as I expected to see, why the most of them
were men and women and married, too, many of them; just think of it, for it is
only a short time ago, apparently, that we all landed here as mere boys. It
shows how old Father Time is hustling us along, whilst we are tramping about
among the hills, thinking all the time that we are just keeping a little ahead
of him. But, boys, we ain’t though.
“As soon as I laid my eyes on that crowd
of young, second-crop Forty-niners, says I, ‘Jeff, old Time is close after
you,’ and I have felt ever since just like one of them ancient fossils that
they have in the museums.”
One of the boys enquired if he saw many of
the boys down there whom we used to know around in the mines.
“Well,” he answered, “I reckon I did. Why,
San Francisco is chock full of ‘em.”
“What are they doing?” “Well, now, I
couldn’t answer that question. Some of them are doing one thing and some
another, and doing all kinds of things and odd jobs to make a livin’; but I
tell you ‘tis hard work for some of ‘em. You know how we often wondered what
had become of lots of them chaps that we mined with up in old Hangtown, Forest
Hill, and other diggin’s. Well, there they all are, or the most of them. When
the mines give out, or they got tired of prospecting, they just put for the big
city to strike a job of some kind, and I tell you, I kinder pitied some of ‘em.
They have such a woebegone and old-fashioned, one-hundred-years-ago kind of
look about ‘em, hanging round the wharves, anywhere, looking
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for a job. I tried to get
some of ‘em to come along up here with me, and offered to pay their expenses
up. Told ‘em there was lots of places where they could pan out or cradle a
first-rate livin’, and told ‘em, too, how they could jest fence in a few acres
of ground, set out some fruit trees, make a good garden, and live like lords.
But they reckoned ‘twas too far off and they couldn’t get back to spend their
evenings in town with the boys.”
Transcribed by:
Jeanne Sturgis Taylor.
Proofread by Betty Vickroy.
© 2008 Jeanne Sturgis Taylor.
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