The Vance, despite the rather unfavorable impression made by its wooden exterior, proved well-appointed and comfortable inside. A large, cozily furnished, steam-heated room proved a pleasant haven after a chilly ride—for the wind had blown strongly all day from the sea, and when out of the shelter of the forest, it brought our whole supply of wraps and robes into use. The Vance was the only commercial hotel which we found operating on the “American plan” since leaving San Francisco, and its service throughout was very satisfactory, though its rates could not be classed as cheap. We should say, however, that a thoroughly modern hotel of approved construction would find a fine opening in Eureka.

We found time before dinner to look about the city, which was gaily decorated in bunting and evergreens for an Elks’ Convention to begin the next day. In fact, we had been warned that our lease on our room at the hotel could continue only for the night and our plan of taking a full day’s lay-off at Eureka was thus frustrated. As usual in isolated California towns of any size, the shops and mercantile establishments generally seemed entirely to outclass the population figures, which in case of Eureka are not claimed to exceed fifteen thousand. Like our hotel, the interior of the business buildings was usually much more attractive than the exterior, and it was apparent that the merchants of the town were prepared to take care of all reasonable needs of the inhabitants as well as of transitory visitors. The necessity of this is easily apparent when we recall that San Francisco, the nearest city larger than Eureka, is two hundred and eighty-five miles distant—twelve hours’ ride over the recently completed railway. For Eureka at last has a railway, after having for many years enjoyed—or rather endured—the undesirable distinction of being the largest town in the United States without railroad service. The Northwest Pacific “Scenic Route” reached the town in 1915 and has the distinction, it is said, of being by far the costliest railroad of its length in America, an average of one hundred and thirty thousand dollars per mile having been expended in its construction. For nearly half its length it threads its way through the gigantic canyon of the Eel River, following the stream so closely that it is seldom out of sight. The scenery along this road, a local authority insists, is hardly to be surpassed in the whole country.

“As the train passes over the Eel River Divide, the Pacific, thirty miles distant, is seen, shimmering in the sunlight across a stretch of mighty wooded hills. As the descent along the upper Eel River Valley begins, the views become more and more entrancing. No mountain scenery in the foothills of the Swiss Alps is more beautiful than that which greets the traveler’s eyes along the Eel River.”

Perhaps such a digression on the scenery from a railroad train is out of place in a motor-travel book, but it may be permitted, possibly, in view of the fact that a far greater number of people go to Eureka by train than motor. And those who come by motor, if they pursue the Bell Springs route, will see the same Eel River scenery from even grander viewpoints, since in places the wagon road rises thousands of feet above the railway.

Greater numbers of motor cars will come to Eureka when the new state highway is completed, since the two old roads from the south are as difficult and dangerous as any in California and are considered quite impassable, even for horse-drawn vehicles, when the rains set in. Hence, before the completion of the railroad Eureka was quite cut off from communication with the rest of the world except by the sea and often violent storms rendered even that route precarious. Under such conditions it is marvelous that such an energetic, thriving city could have sprung up. One of the present roads closely follows the coast through Fort Bragg and Garberville, a poorly-kept and little used trail, and the other, farther inland, roughly follows the railroad, crossing the famous Bell Springs grade, which the state highway commission describes as “long the terror of motorists.” The new highway avoids this and will afford a year-round access to the city over safe and easy grades. It will also continue to Crescent City, placing the Humboldt and Del Norte redwoods within easy reach of motorists, all of whom should exert their influence to secure the proposed national park in this section.

Eureka was founded in 1850 by American settlers. The Spaniards appear to have overlooked this harbor and so far as known no ship entered it prior to 1806, when Captain Winship, a fur trader, who learned of the existence of the bay from the Indians, anchored his ship in its sheltered waters. The career of the town has been a quiet one, not even the customary Indian wars disturbing its serenity. There are memories, however, of two distinguished Americans, for Lieut. Ulysses S. Grant was at one time stationed at old Fort Humboldt, slight remains of which may still be seen. It was also in Eureka where the youthful Bret Harte began his career as a journalist—officiating as compositor, printer’s devil, and assistant editor of the “Northern California,” then published in the town. Here he had a rather thrilling experience which might have cost the world one of its rarest literary geniuses—and actually cost him his job on the paper.

During the absence of the editor, he was left in charge of the paper—like Mark Twain under similar circumstances—and, like Mark, he at once proceeded to break over conventions. Outrages of the Whites against the Indians of the surrounding country were then common and were usually winked at by the editor, who thought more of the support of the citizens than the rights of the red man. A particularly cowardly massacre was perpetrated while Harte was in charge of the paper. Just how cowardly may be judged from a letter of one of the offenders, who declared, “We have been searching the mountains, destroying villages, killing all males we could find, and capturing the women and children. We have killed about thirty altogether and now have twenty-eight captives in camp.” No one hated injustice and cruelty more than Bret Harte and in an editorial he scathingly condemned the murderers. This roused the anger of the community and a mob gathered with the avowed purpose of wrecking the newspaper plant and hanging the youthful scribe. Harte showed himself game to the last degree and held the mob at bay with two cocked pistols during probably the longest evening of his life. The timely arrival of a few cavalrymen from the fort probably saved his life, but his love of justice brought him a quick dismissal on the return of the owner of the paper. Perhaps this experience, after all, was a God-send to Harte’s budding genius. Had things gone too smoothly in his first essay at journalism he might have missed the rich experience that came of his nomadic career among the pioneer mining camps and settled down into the quiet ways of a backwoods editor.

IX
EUREKA TO CLOVERDALE

A very dull morning with streets and walks wet from a light, drizzling rain greeted our dismayed vision as we hastily glanced from the hotel windows on rising. The hotel people had duly warned us that they hadn’t a corner left for us for the coming night and we counted it very likely that every hotel and lodging house in Eureka was just as “full up,” as the English say. Furthermore, there was no assurance if it once began to rain that it would let up for a week, for week-long rains are to be expected in Humboldt County in season. And from all we could learn, a long-continued rain meant no thoroughfare for heavy cars through the mountains to the south.