Tales of the Gold Rush

Not so long ago there was a homeschool fair. It was called the Not School Carnival and kids came and set up booths to make a little money for themselves and for The Peregrine Fund and The Berkeley Humane Society (which coincidentally burned down the evening after the fair). There were Ball Toss Booths and Hot Pretzels and Ancient Mesopotamian biscuits and K'Nex creations for sale.

And there were the storytelling booths. Kids spread across the fair dressed as Gold Rush era historical figures, telling tales from their lives, and selling CDs of their stories. They weren't sure if anyone would want to listen, but when they counted the cash in the till there was over $80. They sold every CD and more than 40 people paid $1 to hear their tales.

Evelyn was Black Bart, infamous stage coach robber, and Clementine was Sam Brannan, the gold rush's first millionaire. Their friends portrayed the famous, the infamous and the everyday figures of the gold rush. You can listen to their tales below--the death of semi-legendary bandit Joaquin Murrieta, the rise to riches of gold rush entrepreneurs Levi Strauss and Domingo Ghirardelli, the biographies of rights activists Helen Hunt Jackson and Mifflin Wistar Gibbs, the escapades of Chilean miner Vincente Perez Rosales, the lives of writers Mark Twain and Dame Shirley, and the secret of Charley Parkhurst, stage coach driver.

Domingo Ghirardelli selling cocoa.

Left to right Black Bart, Mark Twain and Charley Parkhurst

Sam Brannan showing a vial of gold and announcing, "Gold, gold in the American River!"

CD cover art by the kids:

The kids told their tales 20 times or more each to kids and parents, to homeschoolers and parkgoers who just happened by.  They went home with $5 in their pockets and the fair raised $667.44 for the Peregrine Fund and The Berkeley Humane Society.  In a word--it was enriching.

49ers

The year was 1849, or maybe it was 1852 or perhaps 1872.  I can't recall.  In any case, not far from North Bloomfield

 in a clearing on the banks of Humbug Creek, some miners had made a camp.


They brought their gear in wheelbarrows down to their canvas tents


and then made their way down to Humbug Creek to pan for placer gold.

It was called Humbug Creek for a reason, and no gold did they find.

Soaking wet and freezing cold, they made their way back to the clearing to prepare for the coming night.  They'd need a bench to keep them off the cold, damp ground:







 A lantern:

And a candle to put in it:







Most of the miners had been down at the creek panning for gold and had missed the terrifying sight of the cauldron of wax catching fire and threatening to burn the camp, the forest and perhaps even themselves before a few of the brave and resourceful put it out.

Round about three o'clock, by someone's pocketwatch, they heard tell of a richer strike not far off.  It was so rich that a mining company had bought it and set about hydraulic mining, blasting away hillsides with modified cannons

and creating a 2 mile long, 600 foot deep canyon that would come to be known as Malakoff Diggins.


Some parties undertook a trek to the mine.  The late afternoon sun grew hot and the miners stripped off their flannel shirts to get cool while inspecting the equipment.




Back at camp they were welcomed by a true feast.

Someone rang the bell to call everyone to dinner (but not this little miner).


And others began serving chicken and dumplings, black beans, green beans,


and switchel to drink


and for dessert peach and blueberry hand pies.


After dinner a miner by the name of One Eyed Charley took out an English flute and played Sweet Betsy From Pike and Oh California as others hammered away on unfinished projects.



Domingo Ghirardelli happened by and sold hot chocolate by the campfire from a canvas tent:




After supper feverish work resumed on the lanterns as the sun was going down and no one wanted to stumble about in the dark.  With lanterns lit someone had a notion to strike out for the old graveyard.  There many a story too chilling to recount was told.

By the light of a full moon and their dwindling candles the miners made their way back to their canvas cabins and settled down to sleep.  Sometime in the night a fearful storm set in.  Tent flaps blew open, rain leaked upon the miners' meager possessions and blankets.

Hot coffee and flapjacks with chocolate chips saved the morning.

Some miners, disillusioned with the lack of gold and uncomfortable conditions, apprenticed to a blacksmith.


I do believe some of them were hooked.




With rain unabating the miners packed up, abandoned their wet tent cabins

and headed back toward Frisco and warm, dry beds for the following night.

Gold Mine

It was Jan. 24 1848. One worker wrote in his diary, "This day some kind of mettle was found in the tail race that looks like goald, first discovered by James Martial, the boss of the mill."

I don't know about you, but I have a weakness for the days before spelling standardization. Mettle and goald add a glimmer of richness to the story. Even Marshall's name wasn't a matter for standard spelling. And why should it be? I've never understood why my 8th grade teachers objected to me spelling my name Psiouxsan. They soon found it wasn't a battle worth fighting. Unlike the miners. They kept digging and panning and hoping, though few struck it rich.

The museum at Marshall Gold Discovery State Historic Park makes much of the horrible conditions endured by the miners who flocked to the American River. Scorching heat...frigid water....

which is exactly why we come here. The scorching heat, 100F last weekend, makes the frigid water feel pleasant...

...as we paddle the South Fork of the American River.

The kids have their own ideas about why we go.

High on their list are the blackberries. We eddy out and gorge on them many times during the 4.5 miles of class II whitewater. But there is also the one lane bridge that connects the campground to the heart of Marshall Gold Discovery Park.

The kids cram their pockets with a few dollars and cross the bridge to another time. They pan for gold, lick $1 ice cream, suck 5 cent candies, watch sparks fly at the hot as heck Blacksmith's Shop, and pretend to grind corn on a rock bluff overlooking bark dwellings.

(Go ahead, click on it!)

Stray kittens at the campsite added to the excitement. We can't have them at home (achoo!) so the girls thought it was heaven to put out dishes of milk for the scrawny beasts.

We arrived home late Sunday night and turned around the next morning to drive to Monterey. We usually go there to see the aquarium and this time was no different.

I love these barnacles attached to a glass buoy.

But because we are on a history bender we caught the 10:30am tour of historic Monterey.

Where we learned that when James Marshall spotted that nugget of goald California was not yet a state.

It had been less than two years since Commodore John Drake Sloat ran the American flag up this pole in Monterey claiming a territory 3 times the size of present day California for the United States.

The flag was a 28-star version.

When the United States staked its claim to California there were a few thousand non-native people here and half a million head of cattle.

For a time before the U.S. claimed California every single item imported to California passed through the Custom House in Monterey.

The lentils and beans and desks and tea kettles and soap came in...

...and the cow hides went out. See them stacked in the back there?
And what do you suppose they were used for?
Shoes?
Saddles?
Belts?
Well, yes, but not the kind that held up the pants of rancheros.

Big strapping belts like this...

...that turned the wheels of Europe's Industrial Revolution.

Of course, Monterey was not untouched by James Marshall's eureka moment. When word spread American soldiers, the sailors in the ports, the rancheros, basically everybody of sound body, ran for them thar hills with gold in 'em.
One Monterey resident griped that there wasn't a bowl left in Monterey to wash your hands in. They all headed northeast as gold pans.

Monterey's abandoned homes were bought or leased by whalers...

A kettle for melting whale blubber....

The bricks give you an idea of its size.

Whale bones lie about all around in Monterey. This sidewalk is even made of them...

..made of whale vertebrae cut into diamonds.

One of the things I like best about learning history is how it brings place names to life. I always wondered what was up with Placer County and Placerville. What is up with it is placer mining.
And I never stopped to wonder why we have a Portola valley.
But I feel so happy to know. It makes me feel connected to the past. It makes my everyday life richer to think about the people who were here before.

Sigh. History is such a gold mine.