goldfields

In September 1889 John Bidwell wrote to his friend E. Nelson Blake:

Your memory is good — true, 39 years ago we brought the news of California’s admission into the Union. Where are those who were our fellow passengers? Except for yourself, I cannot recall the name of one living! We ought to be thankful that our lives have been spared to behold the wonderful march of events of this prolific age!

Unfortunately, Blake’s letter to Bidwell recalling the great day does not survive. Blake had a very good memory for his California days, and it would be nice to have his recollections.

Headline of the Daily Alta California, Extra Edition, Oct. 18, 1850.

Both were passengers on the steamship Oregon, arriving on October 18, 1850 with the news that California had become the 31st state on September 9th. Bidwell was traveling in a first class cabin, while Blake, a farm boy on his way to the goldfields, was in steerage.

Bidwell carried with him the statehood documents. Traveling with him were his Maidu valet Rafael, Samuel J. Hensley, H.A. Schoolcraft, who had traveled to Washington with Bidwell, Mrs. Elijah Crosby and her daughter Helen, and Bidwell’s brother Thomas. By 1889 all these but Helen Crosby, who had married Hensley, had passed away.  And John Bidwell, who had been Hensley rival for her hand, had forgotten all about her.

The Oregon steamed into San Francisco Bay, firing cannons and decorated “from stem to stern and from the taffrail to the maintop” (as the Daily Alta California reported) with fluttering flags to announce the long-awaited news. Jubilation erupted throughout San Francisco as the citizens celebrated with bonfires, marching bands, booming cannons, and all-night balls.

We don’t make much of Admission Day presently, which is too bad. If you want to celebrate, there is an event on Wednesday, Sept. 9th at 11:00 a.m. in Oroville at the Liberty Pole at Montgomery and Huntoon Streets.

A story told by D. F. Crowder in the Chico Enterprise, December 29, 1917—

Of women in those days there were very few. In fact, women were somewhat of a curiosity. Men would go many miles just to look at a woman and when a woman, a pretty one, came in to camp, the news flew for miles . . .

I remember one woman, a Mrs. A. M. Sadorus, who afterwards settled on Rock Creek and died later in Nevada, who told about the curiosity her presence caused when she came West. . . . It was mooted about that a very comely woman was in camp and one miner, more venturesome than the rest, said his eyes were just watering for the look of a pretty woman  . . .  it would do his heart good to see one of God’s fair creatures again. So he went to the Sadorus camp where Mrs. Sadorus and her husband were resting for a few days. Mrs. Sadorus was in the tent and the miner who wanted just to see her approached the husband who stood outside.

“See here, pard,” said the miner, “If you don’t object I’d like just to look at your woman. I ain’t seen one since I left home, back in the States five years ago. No offense meant and you can tell her for me that if she will come out of that thar tent and let me look at her for just one minute I’ll give her ten dollars in dust.”

Sadorus, being a man of humor and appreciating the situation, and likewise acknowledging the reason for the miner’s whimsicality, laughingly told his wife about it. Mrs. Sadorus entered into the spirit of the occasion and putting on a pretty dress came from the tent and stood before the enraptured miner who had removed his hat in awe.

“God Almighty,” he said, “you air a purtty woman. It does my old heart good to see one of your kind again.”

For a full minute the old miner gazed upon the lovely vision and, pulling out his wallet, he handed her a $10 pinch of dust and took his departure.

I have heard Mrs. Sadorus tell this story many times and there are those here yet who will vouch for its truth.

D.F. Crowder 1909. Photo courtesy Special Collection, Meriam Library, CSUChico.

D.F. Crowder came to Butte County in 1856 at the age of 12. He became a farmer in the area of Mud Creek. I suppose the event related here happened before he arrived. Women were exceedingly scarce in the mining camps and diggins.

From December 28, 1917 to January 28, 1918 the Chico Enterprise printed his recollections in a series entitled The Eventful Yesterdays: The Story of Early Chico. Some very interesting reading there — I’ll share some more soon.

1849-1850 Farm Account for Rancho Chico courtesy Special Collections Meriam Library CSUChico

Here are four pages labeled Farm Account from Rancho Chico for 1849 and 1850. The paper is very brittle and fragile, and I am grateful to George Thompson for allowing me to handle the originals.

The second image here is the reverse side of the first page. Since the pages had been folded in thirds, they were cracking along the fold lines, so someone mended them with Scotch tape. They were probably mended with the tape before they ever came to Special Collections at Meriam Library.

This is so sad! Look how the tape has discolored the page. It probably can’t be taken off now.

The account book starts with Nov. 16, 1849. Paid to Mr. Grry [Grey] $1.53. I am not sure whether that is one dollar and fifty-three cents, or one hundred and fifty-three dollars. Whoever was writing this always seems to put in a dot if the amount is three digits.

Next:

Paid to Mr. Potter for Beef 7. Paid for geting wood 2.

Further down the page:

one mule 40.   two horses sold $3.85. Bilding of shed 1.25.

This handwriting is a bit tricky to read. The other side is easier. I don’t think either one is John Bidwell’s hand. He had other men working for him and helping keep the books.

The third page lists Number of Cattle and Horses Sold by R. Newell for the Ranch, and is dated Feb. 12th, 1850. A lot of Bidwell’s business at this time was the buying and selling of cows, oxen, horses, and mules. With a total of $2350 on the sales, it was evidently a good business.

If you ever have any old papers — letters, books, or other documents — and they are cracked and splitting, please please please do not mend them with ordinary scotch tape. Take them to the library and ask about the best way to conserve them. Or just put the pieces in a folder and store them in a safe place. Doing nothing to old papers is better than trying to mend them with the wrong materials.

I was vacuuming up cobwebs around the windows this morning, and it recalled to mind this phrase:

The rubbish of spiders no mortal supposes

which is a line from The Housewife’s Lament, also known as the The Housekeeper’s Tragedy. or The Poor Old Woman. The entire poem goes like this:

One day I was walking, I heard a complaining
And saw an old woman the picture of gloom
She gazed at the mud on her doorstep (’twas raining)
And this was her song as she wielded her broom

Oh! Life is a trial and love is a trouble
And beauty will fade and riches will flee
Pleasures they dwindle and prices they double
And nothing is as I would wish it to be.

There’s too much of worriment goes to a bonnet
There’s too much of ironing goes to a shirt
There’s nothing that pays for the time you waste on it
There’s nothing that last us but trouble and dirt.

In March it is mud, it is slush in December
The midsummer breezes are loaded with dust
In fall the leaves litter, in muddy September
The wall paper rots and the candlesticks rust.

There are worms on the cherries and slugs on the roses
And ants in the sugar and mice in the pies
The rubbish of spiders no mortal supposes
And ravaging roaches and damaging flies.

It’s sweeping at six and it’s dusting at seven
It’s victuals at eight and it’s dishes at nine.
It’s potting and panning form ten to eleven
We scarce break our fast ere we plan how to dine.

With grease and with grime from corner to center
Forever at war and forever alert.
No rest for a day lest the enemy enter
I spend my whole life in struggle with dirt.

Last night in my dreams I was stationed forever
On a far distant isle in the midst of the sea.
My one chance of life was a ceaseless endeavor
To sweep off the waves as they swept over me.

Alas! ‘Twas no dream; again I behold it
I see I am helpless my fate to avert
She lay down her broom, her apron she folded
She lay down and died and was buried in dirt.

Although none of us are making bonnets anymore, and few of us iron shirts (I can remember having to iron my father’s dress shirts though), still some of these troubles remain with us.

The midsummer breezes are loaded with dust — they are if you live across the road from an orchard, like I do. In fall the leaves litter — they still do. There are worms on the cherries if the jays don’t get them first. I don’t have mice in the pies, but we had to set traps for the mice in that were eating our tomatoes.

And if you have a large family or many guests, then the sweeping, victuals, dishes, potting and panning go on and on, so that We scarce break our fast ere we plan how to dine.

So if you ever feel burdened with housework, if you feel that:

Pleasures they dwindle and prices they double
And nothing is as I would wish it to be.

remember that you have something in common with our 19th century sisters.

The poem first appeared in print (unattributed) in a magazine in 1871, and in 1872 was published in Out-of-Door Rhymes by Eliza Sproat Turner. It has been set to music, with the second verse as the chorus. One version by Anne Hills and Cindy Mangsen can be heard here.

Jennie Megquier’s letters from Gold Rush San Francisco record a few interesting notes about clothing. In November 1849 she wrote:

I have starched twenty shirts this evening. I tell you this to give you an idea of the amount of work I have to do. Uncle has given me a whole piece of calico, one of de laine, one balererine. I shall make it all into broad aprons as I cannot get time to make a dress and when they get dirty throw them away that is the order of the day in this rich country.

Calico is a plain weave cotton fabric, and delaine was a lightweight wool fabric with a print. What balererine is I have no idea. It isn’t in any online fabric dictionary, like this one or this. Delaine is the sort of fabric that Jennie would have ordinarily used to make a nice dress, not aprons.

Uncle had some washing done for which they charged six dollars a dozen, they looked so bad, he gave them two dollars to keep them.

Which sounds like a joke, but that’s what Jennie wrote.

A fashion plate from Godey’s Lady’s Book 1853.

Later she had more time to sew, and in 1853 wrote:

I was in at Mrs. Calkins today, all well, she and Mrs. Davis are making dresses all the while, I presume they have twenty five in a year, a silk dress lasts but two months at the best. I know not why but everything goes to destruction in a very short time here. . . . I have been making me a brown silk, and next week I am going to make a black one, today I have been making a pink thibet sack trimmed with velvet ribbon but I am sure I do not know when I will wear it.

Thibet was another fine woolen cloth used for making dresses. By a “sack” she probably meant a free-hanging dress with a loose waist.