San
Joaquin County
Biographies
HENRY TINKHAM
“I believe that all things are for
the best.” “Do unto others as you would
be done by.” This was the philosophy and
the life axiom of Henry Tinkham, who was born in 1820, in the old Green Mountain
State, of a Scotch father and an English mother. The family can be traced back to the
great-grandfather, who in 1776 served as a captain in the Revolutionary War;
and his grandfather was a private in the War of 1812.
Young Henry, like all of the New
England boys of that day, worked hard all summer on the little rock fenced
farm, where, as he declared, “It took all summer to raise enough to live on
through the winter.” He had but two
suits of clothing a year, the cloth being woven and made up by his mother;
Henry, with the other children in the family, walked to church barefoot through
the snow, carrying his shoes under his arm, so that he might wear them bright
and shining in the meeting-house.
During the winter months he attended
the district school, the teacher being such as Goldsmith describes. “A man severe he was and stern to view. I knew him well, and every truant knew.” On one occasion the teacher gave Henry a
whipping for misbehavior; sometimes, however, the pupils gave the teacher the
whipping, but in this instance Henry got the birch rod, the teacher always
keeping a supply on hand, as the birch trees grew nearby. On going home he received no consolation from
his father, the latter quietly remarking, “Now, Henry, if you get another whipping
at school, I’ll give you one when you come home.” His father, Daniel Tinkham, was a man beloved
alike by his family and the community in which he lived, for his sterling
qualities of heart and mind, but severe in discipline and unwavering in his ideas
of right and wrong, he believed in upholding parental, educational, civil and
religious authority.
At the age of eighteen Henry Tinkham
obtained a position as a clerk in the Woodstock dry goods store, but not liking
the work, for he was a strong, active, ambitious young man, he later took
passage on a stage for Boston, and asked for work in a hardware store. The proprietor said to him, “All right, come
around in a few days.” The stage journey
had taken all of his money, and the applicant replied: “Well, I am out of money and I want work
now.” The employer immediately put him
to work; he remained about a year, and then became an apprentice meat cutter in
one of the markets of old Faneuil hall, historic as the birthplace of American
liberty. He was employed in the meat
cutting business three years and during this time, in the words of the Yankee
song, he went “sparking Sunday night” and during a part of the time he was one
of the quartette in the Park Street Unitarian
Church. The result of his “sparking” was
his marriage to Frances Baxter, the family being one of the oldest in
Boston. The fruits of this marriage were
four sons and four daughters, viz.:
George Henry, Frances Isadore, Etawah (Etta), Elmer, Lillian, now Mrs. Thomas Shaw of San
Diego; Edgar, Marian, Mrs. E. L. Gnekow of Stockton,
and Alfred, who passed away in 1922. The
father died in 1896, the oldest daughter in 1901, and the wife and mother in
1905.
Between the marriage and death of
Mr. Tinkham there lies fifty years of an industrious, honorable life in
business, home building, protecting and sustaining; the home was his life, the
business an auxiliary, as
“His home the spot of earth
supremely blest, A dearer, sweeter spot than all the
rest.”
To build the home, when the cry of
gold resounded throughout the east, with a company of one hundred and sixteen
young men he started for California, expecting to make his fortune in a few
months and return. Chartering the bark Lenark, they loaded her with provisions sufficient to last
two years, and after a long voyage of six months, September 12, 1848, they
anchored in the harbor of San Francisco.
The company parted, some going to the mines, Mr. Tinkham being of this
number. They sailed up the San Joaquin
River seven days, during which time it rained heavily, and they were compelled
to sleep in their wet blankets on the open deck. As a result Mr. Tinkham was taken sick with
fever. The party he was with purchased a
two-wheeled ox cart and oxen to carry their supplies to the mines, and after
placing Mr. Tinkham on top of the load they started to the Sierras. The hot sun’s rays beat upon the open cart as
it jolted over the rough road and added to the already intense sufferings of
the sick man. Although the teachings of
his youth helped him to bear patiently the ills of life, yet one day, when very
hungry and thirsty, he resolved, if die he must, to die with a full
stomach. The party had gone on a bear
hunt, leaving him alone, and crawling from the cart, he found some crackers and
cheese and the water canteen. He ate and
drank all he desired, the result of which was surprising, for two days later he
had recovered from his illness.
Locating at Hawkins’ bar the party
began mining, and after several days sluicing they obtained about $3,000 in gold
dust. One night it rained heavily and
the following morning when the party arose everything
was gone. Money and tools had been swept
away in the flood that came rolling down the canyon. Mr. Tinkham then came to the conclusion that
he had had all the mining he wanted.
Returning to Stockton he hired out
to Harry Morton, a butcher, for $300 a month.
The following morning his employer said:
“Can you dress a beef?” “Yes, I
guess so,” Tinkham replied. “Well, go
out and shoot one of those steers and bring it in.” The cattle were running loose where now
stands the courthouse. Never in his life
had he dressed a bullock, but he was an unerring rifle shot, and in the “green
hills” of Vermont, many a time he had gone bear or woodchuck shooting. Taking a rifle he singled out an animal and
shot it through the brain, and somehow caused it to bleed profusely. Fortunately a butcher was dressing a beef
nearby and he finally gave the amateur butcher a lesson in the business, and
from that time on he had no trouble. Two
years later Mr. Tinkham opened a meat market at the corner of Main and Sutter
streets, and in 1854 he opened the City Market opposite the Yosemite Hotel, and
for more than fifty years he was engaged in the business.
He made and lost several fortunes,
thousands of dollars were lost in bad debts, for he would not become involved
in lawsuits nor engage in any transaction that would involve the good name
which he so highly prized, or cause any suffering to a poor debtor or his
family. Very sympathetic in his nature
and generous and charitable even beyond sound judgment he believed that the
getting of money could never be justified in doing a wrong act.
He was for many years an Odd Fellow
and a member of Charity Lodge No. 6 and Parker Encampment No. 3 and during the
four years of his patient, uncomplaining sickness they faithfully fulfilled
their obligation. He was also a
volunteer fireman, being a member of Eureka No. 2, and was a member of the San
Joaquin County Pioneers. In politics he
was a Republican, and at one election, at the “solicitation of friends” his
named was placed before the convention for sheriff. They promised to support him, but this they
failed to do, and it so disgusted him he never again would consent to run for
office, for a lie to him was a lie, whether in business or politics.
A man of fine sensibilities and
tastes, he despised vulgar language or stories, and had no regard for unclean
men or actions. In his family he was the
head, his word was law, yet he was never rude or harsh in tone or action, but
gentle, kind and considered generous and unselfish, and ever thoughtful of
those he loved. His family all present,
he passed from earth as quietly as a sleeping child, his life an open book
without a stain.
Transcribed by Gerald Iaquinta.
Source: Tinkham, George
H., History of San Joaquin County, California , Pages
372-376. Los Angeles, Calif.: Historic
Record Co., 1923.
© 2011 Gerald Iaquinta.
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