Personal reminiscences of early days in California, with other sketches

by Stephen J. Field; George C. Gorham

FIRST EXPERIENCES IN SAN FRANCISCO.

Upon landing from the steamer, my baggage consisted of two trunks, and I had only the sum of ten dollars in my pocket. I might, perhaps, have carried one trunk, but I could not manage two; so I was compelled to pay out seven of my ten dollars to have them taken to a room in an old adobe building on the west side of what is now known as Portsmouth Square. This room was about ten feet long by eight feet wide, and had a bed in it. For its occupation the sum of $35 a week was charged. Two of my fellow-passengers and myself engaged it. They took the bed, and I took the floor. I do not think they had much the advantage on the score of comfort.

The next morning I started out early with three dollars in my pocket. I hunted, up a restaurant and ordered the cheapest breakfast I could get. It cost me two dollars. A solitary dollar was, therefore, all the money in the world I had left, but I was in no respect despondent over my financial condition. It was a beautiful day, much like an Indian Summer day in the East, but finer. There was something exhilarating and exciting in the atmosphere which made everybody cheerful and buoyant. As I walked along the streets, I met a great many persons I had known in New York, and they all seemed to be in the highest spirits. Every one in greeting me, said "It is a glorious country," or "Isn't it a glorious country?" or "Did you ever see a more glorious country?" or something to that effect. In every case the word "glorious" was sure to come out. There was something infectious in the use of the word, or rather in the feeling, which made its use natural. I had not been out many hours that morning before I caught the infection; and though I had but a single dollar in my pocket and no business whatever, and did not know where I was to get the next meal, I found myself saying to everybody I met, "It is a glorious country." The city presented an appearance which, to me, who had witnessed some curious scenes in the course of my travels, was singularly strange and wild. The Bay then washed what is now the east side of Montgomery street, between Jackson and Sacramento streets; and the sides of the hills sloping back from the water were covered with buildings of various kinds, some just begun, a few completed,—all, however, of the rudest sort, the greater number being merely canvas sheds. The locality then called Happy Valley, where Mission and Howard streets now are, between Market and Folsom streets, was occupied in a similar way. The streets were filled with people, it seemed to me, from every nation under Heaven, all wearing their peculiar costumes. The majority of them were from the States; and each State had furnished specimens of every type within its borders. Every country of Europe had its representatives; and wanderers without a country were there in great numbers. There were also Chilians, Sonorians, Kanakas from the Sandwich Islands, and Chinese from Canton and Hong Kong. All seemed, in hurrying to and fro, to be busily occupied and in a state of pleasurable excitement. Everything needed for their wants; food, clothing, and lodging-quarters, and everything required for transportation and mining, were in urgent demand and obtained extravagant prices. Yet no one seemed to complain of the charges made. There was an apparent disdain of all attempts to cheapen articles and reduce prices. News from the East was eagerly sought from all new comers. Newspapers from New York were sold at a dollar apiece. I had a bundle of them, and seeing the price paid for such papers, I gave them to a fellow-passenger, telling him he might have half he could get for them. There were sixty-four numbers, if I recollect aright, and the third day after our arrival, to my astonishment he handed me thirty-two dollars, stating that he had sold them all at a dollar apiece. Nearly everything else brought a similarly extravagant price. And this reminds me of an experience of my own with some chamois skins. Before I left New York, I purchased a lot of stationery and the usual accompaniments of a writing-table, as I intended to practise my profession in California. The stationer, learning from some remark made by my brother Cyrus, who was with me at the time, that I intended to go to California, said that I ought to buy some chamois skins in which to wrap the stationery, as they would be needed there to make bags for carrying gold-dust. Upon this suggestion, I bought a dozen skins for ten dollars. On unpacking my trunk, in Marysville, these chamois skins were of course exposed, and a gentleman calling at the tent, which I then occupied, asked me what I would take for them. I answered by inquiring what he would give for them. He replied at once, an ounce apiece. My astonishment nearly choked me, for an ounce was taken for sixteen dollars; at the mint, it often yielded eighteen or nineteen dollars in coin. I, of course, let the skins go, and blessed the hunter who brought the chamois down. The purchaser made bags of the skins, and the profit to him from their sale amounted to two ounces on each skin. From this transaction, the story arose that I had sold porte-monnaies in Marysville before practising law, which is reported in the interesting book of Messrs. Barry and Patten, entitled "Men and Memories of San Francisco in the Spring of 1850." The story has no other foundation.

But I am digressing from the narrative of my first experience in San Francisco. After taking my breakfast, as already stated, the first thing I noticed was a small building in the Plaza, near which a crowd was gathered. Upon inquiry, I was told it was the court-house. I at once started for the building, and on entering it, found that Judge Almond, of the San Francisco District, was holding what was known as the Court of First Instance, and that a case was on trial. To my astonishment I saw two of my fellow-passengers, who had landed the night before, sitting on the jury. This seemed so strange that I waited till the case was over, and then inquired how it happened they were there. They said that they had been attracted to the building by the crowd, just as I had been, and that while looking on the proceedings of the court the sheriff had summoned them. They replied to the summons, that they had only just arrived in the country. But he said that fact made no difference; nobody had been in the country three months. They added that they had received eight dollars each for their services. At this piece of news I thought of my solitary dollar, and wondered if similar good fortune might not happen to me. So I lingered in the court-room, placing myself near the sheriff in the hope that on another jury he might summon me. But it was not my good luck. So I left the temple of justice and strolled around the busy city, enjoying myself with the novelty of everything. Passing down Clay street, and near Kearney street, my attention was attracted by a sign in large letters, "Jonathan D. Stevenson, Gold Dust Bought and Sold Here." As I saw this inscription I exclaimed, "Hallo, here is good luck," for I suddenly recollected that when I left New York my brother Dudley had handed me a note against Stevenson for $350 or $400; stating that he understood the Colonel had become rich in California, and telling me, that if such were the case, to ask him to pay the note. I had put the paper in my pocket-book and thought no more of it until the sight of the sign brought it to my recollection, and also reminded me of my solitary dollar. Of course I immediately entered the office to see the Colonel. He had known me very well in New York, and was apparently delighted to see me, for he gave me a most cordial greeting. After some inquiries about friends in New York, he commenced talking about the country. "Ah," he continued, "it is a glorious country. I have made two hundred thousand dollars." This was more than I could stand. I had already given him a long shake of the hand but I could not resist the impulse to shake his hand again, thinking all the time of my financial condition. So I seized his hand again and shook it vigorously, assuring him that I was delighted to hear of his good luck. We talked over the matter, and in my enthusiasm I shook his hand a third time, expressing my satisfaction at his good fortune. We passed a long time together, he dilating all the while upon the fine country it was in which to make money. At length I pulled out the note and presented it to him. I shall never forget the sudden change, from wreaths of smiles to an elongation of physiognomy, expressive of mingled surprise and disgust, which came over his features on seeing that note. He took it in his hands and examined it carefully; he turned it over and looked at its back, and then at its face again, and then, as it were, at both sides at once. At last he said in a sharp tone, "That's my signature," and began to calculate the interest; that ascertained, he paid me the full amount due. If I remember rightly he paid me $440 in Spanish doubloons, but some of it may have been in gold dust. If it had not been for this lucky incident, I should have been penniless before night.

The good fortune which the Colonel then enjoyed has not always attended him since. The greater part of his property he lost some years afterwards, but he has always retained, and now in his seventy-eighth year[1] still retains, great energy and vigor of mind, and a manly independence of character, which have made him warm friends. In all the changes of my life his name is pleasantly associated with the payment of the note, and the timely assistance which he thus gave me. His career as commander of the well-known regiment of New York volunteers which arrived in California in March, 1847, and subsequently in the State, are matters of public history.

As soon as I found myself in funds I hired a room as an office at the corner of Montgomery and Clay streets for one month for $300, payable in advance. It was a small room, about fifteen feet by twenty. I then put out my shingle as attorney and counsellor-at-law, and waited for clients; but none came. One day a fellow-passenger requested me to draw a deed, for which I charged him an ounce. He thought that too much, so I compromised and took half an ounce. For two weeks this was the only call I had upon my professional abilities. But I was in no way discouraged. To tell the truth I was hardly fit for business. I was too much excited by the stirring life around me. There was so much to hear and see that I spent half my time in the streets and saloons talking with people from the mines, in which I was greatly interested. I felt sure that there would soon be occasion in that quarter for my services.

Whilst I was excited over the news which was daily brought from the mines in the interior of the State, and particularly from the northern part, an incident occurred which determined my future career in California. I had brought from New York several letters of introduction to persons who had preceded me to the new country, and among them one to the mercantile firm of Simmons, Hutchinson & Co., of San Francisco, upon whom I called. They received me cordially, and inquired particularly of my intentions as to residence and business. They stated that there was a town at the head of river navigation, at the junction of Sacramento and Feather Rivers, which offered inducements to a young lawyer. They called it Vernon, and said they owned some lots in it which they would sell to me. I replied that I had no money. That made no difference, they said; they would let me have them on credit; they desired to build up the town and would let the lots go cheap to encourage its settlement. They added that they owned the steamer "McKim," going the next day to Sacramento, and they offered me a ticket in her for that place, which they represented to be not far from Vernon. Accordingly I took the ticket, and on January 12th, 1850, left for Sacramento, where I arrived the next morning. It was the time of the great flood of that year, and the entire upper country seemed to be under water. Upon reaching the landing place at Sacramento, we took a small boat and rowed to the hotel. There I found a great crowd of earnest and enthusiastic people, all talking about California, and in the highest spirits. In fact I did not meet with any one who did not speak in glowing terms of the country and anticipate a sudden acquisition of fortune. I had already caught the infection myself, and these new crowds and their enthusiasm increased my excitement. The exuberance of my spirits was marvelous. The next day I took the little steamer "Lawrence," for Vernon, which was so heavily laden as to be only eighteen inches out of water; and the passengers, who amounted to a large number, were requested not to move about the deck, but to keep as quiet as possible. In three or four hours after leaving Sacramento, the Captain suddenly cried out with great energy, "Stop her! stop her!"; and with some difficulty the boat escaped running into what seemed to be a solitary house standing in a vast lake of water. I asked what place that was, and was answered, "Vernon,"—the town where I had been advised to settle as affording a good opening for a young lawyer. I turned to the Captain and said, I believed I would not put out my shingle at Vernon just yet, but would go further on. The next place we stopped at was Nicolaus, and the following day we arrived at a place called Nye's Ranch, near the junction of Feather and Yuba Rivers.

No sooner had the vessel struck the landing at Nye's Ranch than all the passengers, some forty or fifty in number, as if moved by a common impulse, started for an old adobe building, which stood upon the bank of the river, and near which were numerous tents. Judging by the number of the tents, there must have been from five hundred to a thousand people there. When we reached the adobe and entered the principal room, we saw a map spread out upon the counter, containing the plan of a town, which was called "Yubaville," and a man standing behind it, crying out, "Gentlemen, put your names down; put your names down, all you that want lots." He seemed to address himself to me, and I asked the price of the lots. He answered, "Two hundred and fifty dollars each for lots 80 by 160 feet." I replied, "But, suppose a man puts his name down and afterwards don't want the lots?" He rejoined, "Oh, you need not take them if you don't want them: put your names down, gentlemen, you that want lots." I took him at his word and wrote my name down for sixty-five lots, aggregating in all $16,250. This produced a great sensation. To the best of my recollection I had only about twenty dollars left of what Col. Stevenson had paid me; but it was immediately noised about that a great capitalist had come up from San Francisco to invest in lots in the rising town. The consequence was that the proprietors of the place waited upon me and showed me great attention.

Two of the proprietors were French gentlemen, named Covillaud and Sicard. They were delighted when they found I could speak French and insisted on showing me the town site. It was a beautiful spot, covered with live-oak trees that reminded me of the oak parks in England, and the neighborhood was lovely. I saw at once that the place, from its position at the head of practical river navigation, was destined to become an important depot for the neighboring mines, and that its beauty and salubrity would render it a pleasant place for residence. In return for the civilities shown me by Mr. Covillaud, and learning that he read English, I handed him some New York papers I had with me, and among them a copy of the New York "Evening Post" of November 13th, 1849, which happened to contain a notice of my departure for California with an expression of good wishes for my success.[2] The next day Mr. Covillaud came to me and in an excited manner said: "Ah, Monsieur, are you the Monsieur Field, the lawyer from New York, mentioned in this paper?" I took the paper and looked at the notice with apparent surprise that it was marked, though I had myself drawn a pencil line around it, and replied, meekly and modestly, that I believed I was. "Well, then," he said, "we must have a deed drawn for our land." Upon making inquiries I found that the proprietors had purchased the tract upon which the town was laid out, and several leagues of land adjoining, of General—then Captain—John A. Sutter, but had not yet received a conveyance of the property. I answered that I would draw the necessary deed; and they immediately dispatched a couple of vaqueros for Captain Sutter, who lived at Hock Farm, six miles below, on Feather River. When he arrived the deed was ready for signature. It was for some leagues of land; a considerably larger tract than I had ever before put into a conveyance. But when it was signed there was no officer to take the acknowledgment of the grantor, nor an office in which it could be recorded, nearer than Sacramento.

I suggested to those present on the occasion, that in a place of such fine prospects, and where there was likely in a short time to be much business and many transactions in real property, there ought to be an officer to take acknowledgments and record deeds, and a magistrate for the preservation of order and the settlement of disputes. It happened that a new house, the frame of which was brought in the steamer, was put up that day; and it was suggested by Mr. Covillaud that we should meet there that evening and celebrate the execution of the deed, and take into consideration the subject of organizing a town by the election of magistrates. When evening came the house was filled. It is true it had no floor, but the sides were boarded up and a roof was overhead, and we improvised seats out of spare planks. The proprietors sent around to the tents for something to give cheer to the meeting, and, strange as it may seem, they found two baskets of champagne. These they secured, and their contents were joyously disposed of. When the wine passed around, I was called upon and made a speech. I started out by predicting in glowing colors the prosperity of the new town, and spoke of its advantageous situation on the Feather and Yuba Rivers; how it was the most accessible point for vessels coming up from the cities of San Francisco and Sacramento, and must in time become the depot for all the trade with the northern mines. I pronounced the auriferous region lying east of the Feather River and north of the Yuba the finest and richest in the country; and I felt certain that its commerce must concentrate at the junction of those rivers. But, said I, to avail ourselves of all these advantages we must organize and establish a government, and the first thing to be done is to call an election and choose magistrates and a town council. These remarks met with general favor, and it was resolved that a public meeting should be held in front of the Adobe house the next morning, and if it approved of the project, that an election should be held at once.

Accordingly, on the following morning, which was the 18th of January, 1850, a public meeting of citizens was there held, and it was resolved that a town government should be established and that there should be elected an Ayuntamiento or town council, a first and second Alcalde, (the latter to act in the absence or sickness of the former,) and a Marshal. The Alcalde was a judicial officer under the Spanish and Mexican laws, having a jurisdiction something like that of a Justice of the Peace; but in the anomalous condition of affairs in California at that time, he, as a matter of necessity, assumed and exercised very great powers. The election ordered took place in the afternoon of the same day. I had modestly whispered to different persons at the meeting in the new house the night before, that my name was mentioned by my friends for the office of Alcalde; and my nomination followed. But I was not to have the office without a struggle; an opposition candidate appeared, and an exciting election ensued. The main objection urged against me was that I was a new comer. I had been there only three days; my opponent had been there six. I beat him, however, by nine votes.[3]

On the evening of the election, there was a general gathering of people at the Adobe house, the principal building of the place, to hear the official announcement of the result of the election. When this was made, some one proposed that a name should be adopted for the new town. One man suggested "Yubafield," because of its situation on the Yuba River; and another, "Yubaville," for the same reason. A third, urged the name "Circumdoro," (surrounded with gold, as he translated the word,) because there were mines in every direction round about. But there was a fourth, a solid and substantial old man, evidently of kindly domestic affections, who had come out to California to better his fortunes. He now rose and remarked that there was an American lady in the place, the wife of one of the proprietors; that her name was Mary; and that, in his opinion, her name ought to be given to the town, and it should be called, in her honor, "Marysville." No sooner had he made the suggestion, than the meeting broke out into loud hurrahs; every hat made a circle around its owner's head, and we christened the new town "Marysville," without a dissenting voice. For a few days afterwards, the town was called both Yubaville and Marysville, but the latter name was soon generally adopted, and the place is so called to this day. The lady, in whose honor it was named was Mrs. Covillaud. She was one of the survivors of the Donner party, which suffered so frightfully while crossing the Sierra Nevadas in the winter of 1846-7, and had been living in the country ever since that terrible time.

With my notions of law, I did not attach much importance to the election, but I had a certificate of election made out and signed by the Inspectors, stating that at a meeting of the residents of the District of Yubaville, on the day named, an election for officers had been held, and designating the Inspectors who were appointed, the number of votes that had been cast for the office of Alcalde, and the number received by myself, and the number received by my opponent, and that as I had received a majority of all the votes cast, I was elected to that office. It was made out with all possible formality, and when completed, was sent to the Prefect of the District. This officer, a Mr. E.O. Crosby, afterwards Minister to one of the South American Republics, wrote back approving my election, and advising me to act. His advice, under the circumstances, was a matter of some moment. The new Constitution of the State had gone into effect, though it was still uncertain whether it would be recognized by Congress. Mr. Crosby, therefore, thought it best for me to procure, in addition to my commission as Alcalde, an appointment as Justice of the Peace; and through his kind offices, I obtained from Governor Burnett the proper document bearing his official seal. After my election, I went to Sacramento, and on the 22d of January, 1850, was sworn into office as first Alcalde of Yubaville, by the Judge of the Court of First Instance, as that was the name of the district in the certificate of election; but I was always designated, after the name of the town had been adopted, as First Alcalde of Marysville.[4]

Captain Sutter, whose deed I had drawn, was a remarkable character. He was about five feet nine inches in height, and was thick-set. He had a large head and an open, manly face, somewhat hardened and bronzed by his life in the open air. His hair was thin and light, and he wore a mustache. He had the appearance of an old officer of the French army, with a dignified and military bearing. I subsequently became well acquainted with him, and learned both to respect and to pity him. I respected him for his intrepid courage, his gentle manners, his large heart, and his unbounded benevolence. I pitied him for his simplicity, which, while suspecting nothing wrong in others, led him to trust all who had a kind word on their lips, and made him the victim of every sharper in the country. He was a native of Switzerland and was an officer in the Swiss Guards, in the service of the King of France, in 1823, and for some years afterwards. In 1834, he emigrated to America, and had varied and strange adventures among the Indians at the West; in the Sandwich Islands, at Fort Vancouver, in Alaska, and along the Pacific Coast. In July, 1839, the vessel which he was aboard of, was stranded in the harbor of San Francisco. He then penetrated into the interior of California and founded the first white settlement in the valley of the Sacramento, on the river of that name, at the mouth of the American River, which settlement he named Helvetia. He built a fort there and gathered around it a large number of native Indians and some white settlers. In 1841, the Mexican government granted to him a tract of land eleven square leagues in extent; and, subsequently, a still larger concession was made to him by the Governor of the Department. But the Governor being afterwards expelled from the country, the concession was held to be invalid. The emigrants arriving in the country after the discovery of gold proved the ruin of his fortunes. They squatted upon his land, denied the validity of his title, cut down his timber, and drove away his cattle. Sharpers robbed him of what the squatters did not take, until at last he was stripped of everything; and, finally, he left the State, and for some years has been living with relatives in Pennsylvania. Even the stipend of $2,500, which the State of California for some years allowed him, has been withdrawn, and now in his advanced years, he is almost destitute. Yet, in his days of prosperity, he was always ready to assist others. His fort was always open to the stranger, and food, to the value of many thousand dollars, was, every year, so long as he had the means, sent out by him for the relief of emigrants crossing the plains. It is a reproach to California that she leaves the pioneer and hero destitute in his old age.

[1] Col. Stevenson was born at the commencement of the century, and is therefore now, 1893, in his ninety-fourth year.

[2] See Exhibit A, in Appendix.

[3] See Exhibit B, in Appendix.

[4] See Exhibit C, in Appendix.