THE ARGONAUTS OF CALIFORNIA.

 

 

 

 

 

Page 335.

 

CHAPTER XXIII

 

BILL BURNS LYNCHING THE COLORED MAN--DICK ARNOLD--THE MINING REGIONS--THE OLD-TIMERS DISPERSE--THE PHANTOMS OF THE FORTY-NINERS--FORTY YEARS HAVE PASSED--THE ARGONAUTS’ SOLILOQUY--THE GREAT CHANGES--THE FIGHT OF TIME--THE NUMBER OF PIONEERS NOW LIVING.


“OH, say, Pike, do you remember when Bill Burnes and his crowd of border ruffians undertook to hang that colored chap, Bartlettt, over on Weaver Creek in ‘51?” asked Tennessee.

      “Oh, yaas, indeed,” answered Pike, “for you know I was right thar and seen it all.”

      “Well,” Yank continued, “when I was down there to the Bay there was an article about that affair published in the Argonaut. But wasn’t that little Providence chap, Dick Arnold, clear grit, though? But, pshaw, who would want to run the risk of his life just to save a darky, anyhow? You remember that I asked him afterwards how he could run such a risk for a colored man, and a stranger, too.

      “’Oh, well,’ says the little black-eyed cuss, ‘if it had been a yellow dog I would have done it all the same upon general principles, jest to show that crowd that they couldn’t run this country any longer.

      “’Why, you remember that ‘twas this same crowd, the Bill Burnes’ gang, who undertook to make trouble when we voted upon the adoption of the constitution, governor, or law and order, anyhow, out here in California, and they gave us to understand that if we Yanks undertook that sort of business they would clean us out. At the meeting they tried to scare us out, but found we didn’t scare worth a cent. So you see, boys, when they started in to lynch the darky, Barlett, me and my pard concluded that they jest shouldn’t do anything of the kind. But, pshaw, we didn’t run so much risk

 

 

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as you think, for we knew that kind of a crowd. Why, when they see me running over on top of their heads, with my knife in between my teeth to cut the rope, they knew right off that some of them derned Yanks were around and they had better take keer, and they did, too.’”

      “But the best of it was,” said Pike, “to see old Schowton, the sheriff, and the whole crowd jest go for the brush when Burnes throwed the rope over the darky’s head, and then jerked him up into the top of the oak tree. Yes, and the judge, jury, sheriff and all hands ran a race to see who would get into the brush first.”

      “Well, but where were you and Yank all this time?” asked another.

      “Well, I reckon’ we made for the brush, too, and I jest thought there was agoin’ to be some shootin’, sure, for there was more than thirty of that crowd along with Burnes, but when they seen them two little chaps comin’ up the hill agin with the darkey, one on each side of him, with their guns in their hands, they jest wilted.”

      “Do you remember the chap, Joe Hart, who had that rich claim in White Rock cañon, up near Hangtown,” Yank asked. “It was in ‘50 that they said he had $60,000 worth of dust salted down at that time. Well, blamed if I didn’t meet him on Market street, in San Francisco, with a back-load of brooms. He was peddling brooms and told me that he could make a very good living, that is if he weren’t very particular about how good he lived. And one day I was riding in one of the street cars, and who in thunder do you s’pose was driving it? Why, old Varmount, as we used to call the little chap who had such a big claim at Forest Hill in ‘56. He went in some kind of business down thar, and when his money gave out  his business followed suit, and he got a job of car driving for a living. I tell you it isn’t any use for an old miner to go down there with his dust to go into business among strangers. There are lots of chaps down there who are just laying for that kind of game. They had better keep their dust up here, and help build up and improve the old worn-out and deserted mining regions.

      “For I tell you what it is: up here among these old hills is just going to be ther garden spot of California. No finer climate in the world, or soil that is any better for raising fruit, grape vines, or kids either. I just reckon that we old Forty-niners will live to see the time when all these old hills, flats and ravines where we used to

 

 

Page 337 Illustration.

 

Page 338.

 

mine, which we have tramped over for so many years prospecting, will all be levelled off, fenced in, and planted with vines and fruit trees. Yes, they will sure; for people are just now coming from the East, and it won’t be long before you will see railroads running up into all these old deserted mining regions, just as there is soon going to be up into old Hangtown. Just imagine the bell ringing, and the engine whistling as it flies up through the ravines among the hills where we mined in early days. Why, boys, suppose when we were up there to work forty years ago, some of the boys had said that the time would come, and we would live to see it, when these hills and flats would be fenced in, covered with fruit trees and vines, and with nice pleasant homes around in among them, and that a railroad would be built, and a train of cars would be seen rolling up into old Hangtown, too. Why, they would have been called crazy, and the preachers would have been sent for to come and hold an inquest over them.”

      As it was now getting late in the day, a few of the old miners who had fruit ranches near by were soon compelled to leave. The five old-timers were making preparations to start for other mining localities. Jeff was on his way to Arizona, having heard of the new mines there. Yank was about starting for the Yucon. Jersey was headed for the Coeur D’Alene silver region, where he was interested in a galena and silver mine, from which he was expecting to realize an immense fortune, whilst Tennessee and Jim had concluded to examine the Kootenai country, in British Columbia. Jeff remarked:

      “Well, now, boys, we are soon to part again, each to go his own way, but all determined to continue in the old business of prospecting to the end, unless we strike a pile in time to enjoy a few years before we go, relief from our labor in quiet and comfort down in the big city by the sea.”

      “Yes,” says Yank, “and we will continue in this business for all time. And just let the present generation hand it down to their children, and to their children’s children, as well as to all future generations who will make their dwelling places throughout the old mining regions, that those phantoms that are occasionally seen wandering about among the ravines and cañons in the dead hours of night, carrying upon their backs rolls of blankets, as well as an old tin pan, pick and shovel, are only the restless spirits of a few old miners who are, from force of habit, hunting for some spot

 

 

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where they can get a few colors to the pan, and find the bed rock pitching. They are the spirits of Jeff, Yank, Old Pike, Tennessee, Jersey and Jim, the old Forty-niners.”

      It is now forty years since a few thousands of hardy adventurers sailed out upon the broad ocean from the various sea ports on the Atlantic coast, and also about an equal number of thousands crossed the barren plains in that eventful and long - to - be - remembered year of 1849, to follow upon the trail of the Star of the Westward-bound Empire, which, tradition said, was coursing across the continent, and which was supposed to have finally set somewhere upon the Pacific Coast. And what a transformation has taken place since their arrival upon the shores of California! Here, where we first landed, where all appeared like a vast army encampment, with the sand hills dotted with tents, we now find, in place of those primitive and original conditions, a great city, the foundations of which were laid by those original tent-dwellers, and which has in a few short years sprung into existence as if impelled by some magical-hidden subterranean influence in the mountain regions. And it is this magical influence, more potent than the lamp of Aladdin, which has accomplished such wonderful transformations in so short a space of time that we have come thousands of miles by sea, as well as across barren sands and deserts, to seek for the widely scattered fragments of the once richly paved streets of the “New Jerusalem.”

      These wonderful transformations are not, however, confined to the few large cities of the plains, or to those the foundations of which are laid by the sea, but are visible over the entire country, for even among the hills and mountain ranges, as well as in the broad and rich valley bottoms, can now be seen the pleasant homes and residences of the farmer, the fruit, and the vine grower. There can yet be seen, also, among the deep ravines, upon the level spots of the steep sides of the cañons, and in other localities, the ruins of the once pleasant homes of the old Forty-niners; but these have, in the great majority of cases, like the greater number of their once happy and energetic occupants, gone to decay. Many of them, however, yet exist in form, and to all outward appearances, from a distance, have an air of usefulness and solidity; but upon a nearer approach it will be

 

 

Page 341. Illustration.

 

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found that the foundation only remains; the bark upon the old logs has rotted and fallen off, and the decayed logs have a seedy, antiquated appearance. The once palatial residences of the old-timers, which have withstood the storms and battled with the elements for nearly four years, are now, like many of their former occupants, existing only in form. They have fought the fight and have won, and many of them are yet in existence, roaming upon various portions of the earth’s surface, resembling in their seedy and antiquated appearance the old logs of their ancient castles among the mountain ranges, and like these requiring but a slight push or a gentle breeze to throw them from their foundations into the ravine below.

      Yet there is, after all, among the old Forty-niners a great satisfaction when, from a commanding eminence or standing upon the rugged cliff of some mountain peak, the Argonaut can take a view of the surrounding country spread out before him below, and see the pleasant homes upon the flats, among the ravines and sunny slopes of the hillsides of the once thickly populated mining region. The country that once was dreary and desolate, now covered with extensive forests of fruits and vineyards ; and away further back among the hills, where formerly dwelt the grizzly and other wild animals, can now be seen the cabins of the herders with their immense droves of cattle and flocks of sheep. In the valleys below he can see fields of waving grain, and the railroad trains rushing through them in various directions, filled with travelers from all parts of the world who have come to view this wonderful transformation scene. He includes, also, in the view the great cities beyond, which have risen during this brief period, and are now filled with a busy crowd, all engaged in fierce warfare, endeavoring to see who will get there first, and in which none are anticipating that they will get left.

      All of this the old-timer views from his lofty perch upon the mountain summit, and with these thoughts running in his mind:

      “Although I am not at present in a suitable condition or circumstances to take an active part in the busy scene, or even to mingle with the well-dressed crowds that are promenading the streets of the great cities (for the stylish plug hat that I sported in my early mining days has long since been jammed and knocked out of shape by my mining acquaintances, my store clothes are in tatters, and

 

 

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my biled shirt and fancy necktie also have long since faded and gone), yet there is consolation in the thought that I assisted by my labor to lay the foundation of all this grand panorama, in motion below me. And amid the solid rocks which form the foundation, and beneath the corner-stone upon which the whole fabric rests, will be found the results of my labor, cheerfully contributed towards the erection of this grand and noble structure.”

      To an old-timer, the wonderful changes and transformations which have taken place within, apparently, so short a space of time are hard to realize; and one who has followed the business of mining, more particularly for many years have come and gone since he first landed upon the shores of the country.

      But why does life seem so short to the miner, and why do the years seem to crowd so quickly upon each other, and to pass in such rapid secession? That such, however, is the case, and that we grow up amid the excitement of such conditions unconscious of the existence of time, all old miners can testify to. We find that before we are aware of it our hair is tinged with gray; our children grown up around us; they, in their turn are married, and lo, and behold, we, the old-timers, who have remained unconscious of the fact that time will not even wait for a Forty-niner, are to our astonishment informed that we have attained at last to that period of our existence when we can adopt the title of father with the grand in front of it. But why does time pass so rapidly with those who are engaged in mining? Is it in the climate? No, but in the industry which we follow. We read in Pope that man never is, but always to be, blessed, and this applies to the business of mining with full force; for the miner never has yet, but always is just going to strike it. It is always just a little ahead, and so it continues to the miner, for but a small proportion of them ever reach it. Yet the continuation of daily, weekly and yearly anticipations, as yet unrealized, but which are soon to be, causes time to pass unobserved, and the old Forty-niner, who, in his imagination, has been here but a few short years, finds to his astonishment, when the little ones are climbing over him, pulling his whiskers and calling him “Grandpa,” when he comes to think of it, as old Pike would say, that he has been here a right smart chance.

      But the old miner might ask if this is not true of all other kinds

 

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of business, or of human affairs in general, as well as the business of mining ? No, only to a limited extent, although ‘tis true enough, as observation and experience shows us, that the continual expectation of the satisfaction of our desires is the fundamental base of all human action; the one great incentive to exertion, We find, however, that whilst a reasonable length of time in which to satisfy our desires is allowed and expected in all other kinds of business, in mining the case is reversed.  And it was for this reason that thousands left their Eastern homes, upon the discovery of gold in California, believing it possible that gold in large quantities could be scraped up from the surface of the earth in a very short space of time.  If a proper knowledge of gold mining had been as well understood at that time as has since been acquired by dearly bought experience, and that only about the same proportion of persons would have succeeded in it as was possible in any other business requiring the same space of time for its development, the emigration to this Coast would have been much less in early days, The amount extracted from the mines would no doubt, have been the same and with similar effects, perhaps.  At any rate, the expectations of the early pioneers would have been more reasonable, and disappointments in the business of mining would have been less, since they would have corresponded with such expectations.

      In view of the fact that forty years have now elapsed since the exciting news was wafted across the continent that gold had been discovered upon the Pacific Coast, it would be of great interest to know what has become of this vast army of gold seekers, the Argonauts, who left their friends and homes in the year of ’49.

      The estimate has been made that the number of vessels which sailed from the Atlantic seaports of the United States in the year ’49, including steamers bound for California, was something near 400.  The number of persons, including the emigration across the plains in’49, therefore, who left their Eastern homes in the year ’49 to seek their fortunes upon this side of the continent, must have been nearly 60,000.  Taking an estimate of those who are now living, and of those who joined the various Pioneer Associations, it would be safe to conclude that there are living at present of that vast multitude, at least 15,000.  About 8,000 of them are living upon the Pacific Coast, while the greater portion of the remainder are scattered

 

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throughout the United States from Bangor, Maine, to New Orleans on the south, and to Colorado in a westerly direction.

      The greater portion of the Argonauts are making their homes in the towns and cities, where very many of them are yet engaged in active business; while a journey throughout the agricultural districts of the Pacific Coast will discover the fact that large numbers are engaged in farming in all its various branches of grain, fruit and stock raising. In some of the mining counties will be found, also, many of the old-timers who have abandoned the business of mining, and are now engaged in the fruit industry, and in many cases, too, in the very same localities where they mined long years ago. They have filled up the deep shafts, leveled off piles of rocks and tailings, and by means of brush dams have restored again to their original condition the barren and stony places which were washed out in the search for gold.

      A visit to some of the now deserted mining camps throughout the mining regions, will bring to light many of the old pioneers who are yet lingering around the spot where they first located upon their arrival, loath to break away from their first and earliest associations, and content to remain and live over again, in imagination, the early mining days, with their pleasing incidents and associations. Of the Argonauts who are at present engaged in mining the number would be found small, not exceeding, perhaps, 500. But they are scattered throughout the length and breath of the Pacific Coast, wherever there is a prospect of new mining discoveries, from Mexico to the Arctic Ocean, and a few of them will be found in every mining camp of any importance.

 

Page 347. Illustration.

 

 

Transcribed by: Jeanne Sturgis Taylor.

Proofread by Betty Vickroy.


© 2008 Jeanne Sturgis Taylor.

 

 

 

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