goldfields

If you like history (and you must since you are reading this blog), The History Blog is a great place to get your daily history fix.

“Livius Drusus,” the editor of the blog, faithfully posts a history news item every day of the year, a schedule very few bloggers can boast of, myself included. Every day it is something different: the discovery of an Anglo-Saxon coin hoard, or the excavation of a centurion’s villa under a Metro station, or the restoration of a Renaissance painting. Here are two good recent ones:

Signed portrait of Harriet Tubman, c. 1868

Did you know that there is a photograph of Harriet Tubman as a young woman? It was discovered in an album last year, and the Library of Congress quickly digitized the entire album so that everyone could take a look. I had never seen a photo of her that wasn’t taken in old age. The History Blog reported on it when it was first discovered and the album went up for auction, and again this month went the digitization became available.

Harriet Tubman was in her mid-forties when this portrait was taken, so she is not really a young woman, but it is so much earlier than the other portraits we have seen, that it seems young.

Are you the kind of person who likes to quilt? (I quilt occasionally.) Would you spend more than 20 years on one quilt? (I don’t have that kind of stamina.) Adeline Harris spent eleven years collecting signatures from famous people of her day, and even longer sewing the blocks that incorporate the signatures. Her quilt is a who’s who of 19th century America, with the autographs of presidents, generals, authors, clergymen, scientists, actors, and many more — 360 signatures in all.

Detail from quilt, with the autograph of Abraham Lincoln in center

She meticulously sewed the signature scraps to two other pieces of silk, to make what is called a “tumbling block” pattern. The assembled blocks give the optical illusion of stacked cubes. It is a tour de force of quilting. The quilt was kept in pristine condition by her family for 140 years, and now belongs to the Metropolitan Museum of Art.

These are just two entries at The History Blog that fascinated me, but really, the blog is a treat every day. Check it out!

Dow devoted not one, but two chapters of A Tour in America to General Bidwell’s Rancho Chico. His next chapter is about “A Fruit Orchard of 1000 Acres.”

The 1000 acres of orchard and vineyard are not all in one block, but grouped around a number of the homesteads in different parts of the property. One homestead has its apple and pear orchard, another its almond orchard, and so on, a system which enables the main work of fruit-gathering to Be conducted at the various centres in turn.

He says that irrigation is available but generally not used in the orchards, which surprised me. Maybe my fruit trees could get along with less water than I give them. I worry that they will dry up and blow away over the long hot valley summer. Back in the day, irrigation was mainly used for the nursery and the vegetable garden.

Dow tallies 12,000 peach trees, 5000 plums, 3000 apples, 3000 apricots, 2000 pears and 1600 cherries, and also give their yields for 1881 (980,000 lbs. of peaches!) What did Bidwell do with all this fruit?

The only large towns in the state available as markets are San Francisco (with less than 300,000 inhabitants) and Sacramento (with 26,000) while, as these cities have extensive areas of fruit gardens in their immediate vicinity, much of the supply from Chico must be sent to the more distant centres of population. A quantity of green fruit is sent by rail to cities in the eastern states, reaching as far as Chicago, New York, and New Orleans, thousands of miles from Chico, while the canning establishment puts the surplus in a condition to be transported to any part of the world.

It’s no wonder General Bidwell wanted to build the Humboldt Road to the mines of Nevada and Idaho. He needed markets for his surplus produce.

Dow also tells us the cost of labor: “The cheapest labour in the country costs 4s. 2d. per day, this amount being paid to Chinese, and to women and girls in canning factories, while white men receive from 6s. to 8s. 6d. a day.”

And how much was an Australian shilling worth in 1883? According to my trusty web pal, Measuring Worth, one shilling was worth $5.60 Australian dollars today, which is $4.40 American. So a white male laborer was making about $4 a day on Rancho Chico.

But wait! There’s more. Measuring Worth always has a caveat, as follows:

This may not be the best answer. The best measure of the relative value over time depends on if you are interested in comparing the cost or value of a Commodity, Income or Wealth, or a Project. If you want to compare the value of a £0 1s 0d Commodity in 1883 there are three choices. In 2016 the relative:
real price of that commodity is $5.60
labour value of that commodity is $41.64 (using average weekly earnings)
income value of that commodity is $41.66

And much more, which I would need a degree in Economics to understand.

Peach packing in the orchard. Note the age of the workers. If it weren’t for Social Security, that would be me.

The fresh fruit which is sent to market is gathered and placed in small boxes in the orchard, the fruit being graded or assorted to some extent upon the spot. A light waggon gathers up the boxes and takes them to the fruit-house, where they are evenly filled and closed up ready for transportation to the railway station, about half a mile distant. Fruit intended for such distant markets is packed in a special way. Each pear or plum is wrapped in a piece of paper before being placed in the box ; a Chinaman, at a dollar a day, being very expert at this kind of work.

So it could be that 4 shillings a day was more like $1 US, which is in line with average wages in the U.S. in 1880, according to another website.

Much of the fruit was dried, and a lot of the apple crop was turned into vinegar. Dow explains the process. Anyone wishing to set up a similar operation today could get quite a bit of information from reading Dow’s Tour in America. Dow has this to say about grapes, wine, and raisins:

General Bidwell formerly made wine, but now raisin-making varieties of grapes are being substituted, and no wine is produced. It is believed by many that raisin-growing is more profitable than wine-making, but this consideration has not been the General’s object in changing his procedure. He came to the conclusion that the making of wine contributed to intemperance, and therefore devoted his vineyard to the production of raisins.

Prunes drying. Fruit was partially dried in the sun, and finished in an artificial drier.

John Bidwell was not a gambling man. In Gold Rush California, where men would bet on just about anything, and where horse-racing was popular entertainment, Bidwell generally stayed away. But one time he found himself the participant in a horse race that would decide the outcome of a lawsuit.

In the Fall of 1852, a former Rancho Chico employee by the name of James Dinning sued Bidwell for back wages in the amount of twelve dollars. Bidwell refused to pay him, although his reason is unclear, and who really had the legitimate claim in unknown at this date.

Attorney George Adams Smith took Dinning’s case before Chico’s Justice of the Peace, Thomas Wright Shelton, who held court in his house, which also served as a public gathering place. Bidwell was represented by Charles Lott. Squire Wright (as he was known) assembled a jury of twelve men, but as the lawyers consulted, someone in the crowd suggested that the matter be settled with a horse race.

The notion caught the fancy of Squire Wright, who was fond of a horse race himself. He announced:

“Gentlemen, the parties propose to settle the case with a hoss race. I think that his is the best way to settle it myself. Therefore, the court will adjourn until the hoss race is over.”

Attorney Smith loaned his client his own swift horse “Rabbit Catcher.” Bidwell gave his black saddle horse to his employee Frank Davis to ride for him in the race. It was stipulated that in case Bidwell lost he would pay the $12 but would not pay costs.

The race was on – Bidwell’s black saddle horse against “Rabbit Catcher.” You can imagine the excitement! Suddenly, something startled Bidwell’s horse and he dashed off the track and into the chaparral.  No sooner had the race begun than it was over.

Judge Wright ruled that John Bidwell had lost the case by default of his horse and had to pay Dinning his $12. But Dinning was responsible for the court costs, which amounted to $18.

Bidwell was disgusted with the whole proceedings and never again engaged in a horse race.

Squire Wright’s house still stands, the oldest wood frame building in the Sacramento Valley. Chico Heritage Association has devoted time, money, and a great deal of effort to preserving the house, which you can read about on their webpage.

The story of this horse race has been told many times. George C. Mansfield, in his History of Butte County, tells it, but he gets a few of the facts wrong. Rockwell Hunt heard the story “straight from the horse’s mouth,” so to speak, and relates it in John Bidwell: Prince of Pioneers. But Bidwell didn’t explain to him why he had the disagreement with Dinning in the first place. The best account comes from Michele Shover, in her essay The Doctor, the Lawyer, and the Political Chief, where she relies not only on the Bidwell/Hunt version, but also contemporary letters between Smith and Bidwell.

I just came across this book today: Romantic Cities of California, by Hildegarde Hawthorne, with illustrations by E. H. Suydam, published in 1939 by D. Appleton-Century Co.  It is a tour of the towns and cities of California, all up and down the state from San Diego to Weaverville. I wouldn’t have thought of all these towns as romantic (I’m looking at you, Bakersfield), but I guess you can’t sell a travel book by calling it Romantic and Not-So-Romantic Cities of California.

Of course I was curious what the author had to say about the town where I live — Chico. What did Chico look like to a visitor in 1939?

Most of the chapter is taken up with her telling about how John Bidwell came to California, and what he did after he got here, as published in The Century Magazine back in 1889. That’s a good story, but doesn’t tell you much about Chico. Finally she gets to the town:

We ought to get back to Chico, which today is the county-seat (it isn’t and wasn’t) and chief city of Butte, however, and where the big stone house with its wide verandahs and galleries and its square tower still remains the Bidwell family mansion. It was erected in the middle part of the sixties, near the creek that still runs shining through  the grounds . . .

She mentions Bidwell Park “the vast city recreation center,” the Hooker Oak, and the United States Governmental Experimental Garden. Her paragraphs on the city of Chico say:

The Chico of today is a solidly built, prosperous, lovely city with plenty of room and a consuming pride in its rose gardens, which are numerous and in which roses of every possible variety flourish and bloom almost the whole year through, certainly in every month of the year. It is primarily built and planted to be a city in which it is good to live.

Its lumbering interests, that range from the making of matches up through anything you might want for building a house or a boat or any other wooden structure, are the chief of its industries, but it, like other towns and cities scattered up and down the valleys of these rivers which were once only interesting because of the gold you got out of them, is also an agricultural center.

Not is education left out of the sum. Chico State College is a handsome collection of dignified brick buildings that make a very handsome and stately group centered by a really glorious tower. Its high school is a beauty. (Alas, that high school building is gone.) And you feel that it is a city beloved by those who live in it, who cherish its appearance, who enjoy its broad esplanade, the wide, tree-planted principal street, its cleanliness and homeliness, in the old sense of the word. Chico is proud of the old pioneer who was its father, and General John Bidwell could be proud of it today.

She doesn’t give statistics, but for your information, Chico in 1940 had a population of 9,287. That’s only a little bigger than Orland today. It must have been a charming place. Today Chico is ten times larger than it was when Hildegarde Hawthorne visited it.

Main Street, Chico, as drawn by E. H. Suydam. Note the fire station, City Hall, the Senator Theater, and the Park Hotel.

(By the way, when  I typed “Weaverville” in the first paragraph, WordPress didn’t recognize the word. Its suggestion? “Versailles.” A bit of difference there, even if it shares a few letters.)

Yippee!

The California State Library choose my book Nancy Kelsey Comes Over the Mountain as their book of the week!

This absolutely makes my day. Here’s what they said in their Facebook post:

Book of the Week: Looking for a good way to kick off Women’s History Month? Check out Nancy Kelsey Comes Over the Mountain by Nancy Leek and Steve Ferchaud. This charmingly illustrated account of Nancy Kelsey’s journey to California and the challenges she faced on the way, not only brings her history to life but introduces young readers to primary sources. If you are looking for a story that will inspire your daughters, this is the book for you! #BOTW#BookOfTheWeek

So— go and “like” the California State Library. They are a great institution, and a place I love to visit and do research in. Click on the My Books tab above to order books.

I’ve been going through letters in the John Bidwell Papers in the California State Library. Bidwell was the kind of man who held on to all his correspondence, and kept it well organized. Most of the letters deal with mundane matters, but as such they are a glimpse into everyday life in Northern California.

Here is a letter from a man seeking some runaway horses:

                                                Monroe’s Ranch Colusi Co. California  July 20^th, 1851

Dear Sir,

Some days since I bought of Capt. Sutter twenty mares, and in crossing these on the Sacramento River, about one mile below this place, three of the mares escaped from us. These mares may fall in with your wild bands – if so please keep them until I see you which will be most probably, with the next four weeks.

The following is a description of the mares, as near as I can recollect.

One cream colored “Gil. flirt” mare, rather old.

One dun, or brown, mare, with a black list down the back.

One light bay mare, with a ball face. All of these mares are branded with Capt. Sutter’s iron, and vented, the vent being placed upside down.

Your attention to this Sir, will confer an especial favor for which I shall be pleased to make a remuneration.

Very truly yours etc.

John T. Hughes

Here are a few things to can learn about this letter:

Monroe’s Ranch belonged to Uriah P. Monroe, who helped to organize Colusi County and conveniently placed the county seat on his ranch, at a town he named Monroeville. When it was organized in 1850, the county had 115 non-native residents. It encompassed present-day Colusa and Glenn Counties, and part of Tehama County.

Monroeville was located where Stony Creek joins the Sacramento River, about five miles south of Hamilton City. The town has disappeared, but there is a Monroeville Cemetery, where William B. Ide is buried. You can learn more about Monroeville here.

The horses: Wild horses roamed all over California in those days. There were probably quite a few on Rancho Chico.

I don’t know what a “Gil Flirt” mare looks like, but there was a mare named Gil Flirt in 1816 who shows up on breeding charts. I don’t know what a “black list” is, or a “ball face” either, unless he meant to write “bald face.”

To “vent” a brand is to cancel it. According to an article by Delbert Trew (and “It’s All Trew”), “A brand may be canceled or abandoned by branding a bar across the original brand. This is called venting or barring out a brand.”

I like how politely Mr. Hughes asks Bidwell to “confer an especial favor.” Courtesy counts!

Who was the writer? John T. Hughes shows up as a miner, living in a cabin with three other men, in Mariposa County in the 1850 census. In 1851 he was living in Colusi County, where on May 3rd he was elected county judge to replace J. S. Holland (who had died). By September 1851 another election had to be held, because he had left the county. (This information from The History of Colusa and Glenn Counties.) Where he went from there, or what happened to the mares, I don’t know.

And yet the letter is still filed away in the library, and we can read it today.