In 1852, from her log cabin at Indian Bar on the Feather River, Dame Shirley (Louise Clappe) wrote about a 4th of July celebration across the river at Rich Bar. She had the honor of making a flag, of white cotton cloth and red calico stripes, a union (or canton) of faded blue drill, and “a large star in the center, covered with gold-leaf, represented California.” Real gold leaf! It must have been spectacular, as it waved from a pine tree in front of the Empire Hotel.

The patriotic “exercises” should have included a reading of the Declaration of Independence, but they hadn’t been able to get one. But there were speeches, orations, songs, and this anonymous poem, newly composed for this occasion.

Ye are welcome, merry miners, in your blue and red shirts all; 
Ye are welcome, 'mid these golden hills, to your nation's festival; 
Though ye've not shaved your savage lips nor cut your barb'rous hair, 
Ye are welcome, merry miners, all bearded as ye are.

What though your brows are blushing at the kisses of the sun, 
And your once white and well-kept hands are stained a sober dun; 
What though your backs are bent with toil, and ye have lost the air 
With which ye bowed your stately heads amid the young and fair, 

I fain would in my slender palm your horny fingers clasp, 
For I love the hand of honest toil, its firm and heartfelt grasp; 
And I know, O miners brave and true, that not alone for self 
Have ye heaped, through many wearying months, your glittering pile of pelf. 

Ye of the dark and thoughtful eyes beneath the bronzèd brow, 
Ye on whose smooth and rounded cheeks still gleams youth's purple glow, 
Ye of the reckless, daring life, ye of the timid glance; 
Ho! young and old; ho! grave and gay, to our nation's fête advance. 

Ho! sun-kissed brother from the South, where radiant skies are glowing; Ho! toiler from the stormy North, where snowy winds are blowing;
Ho! Buckeye, Hoosier, from the West, sons of the river great, 
Come, shout Columbia's birthday song in the new Golden State. 

Ho! children of imperial France; ho! Erin's brave and true; 
Ho! England's golden-bearded race, we fain would welcome you, 
And dark-eyed friends from those glad climes where Spain's proud blood is seen; 
To join in Freedom's holy psalm ye'll not refuse, I ween.

For now the banner of the free's in very deed our own, 
And, 'mid the brotherhood of states, not ours the feeblest one. 
Then proudly shout, ye bushy men with throats all brown and bare, 
For, lo! from 'midst our flag's brave blue, leaps out a golden star.

This was followed by a dinner, presided over by a veteran of the Mexican War, with many toasts and songs — “everything passed off at Rich Bar quite respectably.” Things got rowdier as the day went on. “To be sure, there was a small fight in the barroom, which is situated just below the dining-room, during which much speech and a little blood were spouted.”

All in all, it was a typical Gold Rush Fourth of July.