Death Valley in \'49 by William Lewis Manly

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After the snow went off three German sailors came up and took a river
claim a short distance above us on a north fork of the north fork of the
stream, where one side of the canon was perpendicular and the other
sloped back only slightly. Here they put logs across the river, laid
stringers on these, and covered the bottom with fir boughs. Then they
put stakes at the sides and rigged a canvas flume over their bridge
through which they turned the whole current of the river, leaving a
nearly dry bed beneath. This we called pretty good engineering and
management on the part of the sailor boys, for no lumber was to be had,
and they had made themselves masters of the situation with the material
on hand.

They went to work under their log aqueduct, and found the claim very
rich in coarse gold. They went to town every Saturday night with good
big bags of dust, and as they were open-hearted fellows, believing that
a sailor always has the best of luck, they played cards freely, always
betting on the Jack and Queen, and spent their money more easily than
they earned it. They were quite partial to the ladies, and patronizing
the bar and card tables as liberally as they did, usually returned to
camp on Monday or Tuesday with a mule load of grub and whiskey as all
the visible proceeds of a week's successful mining; but when Saturday
night came around again we were pretty sure to see the jolly sailors
going past with heavy bags of gold. They left one nearly pure piece of
gold at Langdon's Express office that weighed five pounds, and another
as large as a man's hand, of the shape of a prickly pear leaf.

They worked their claim with good success until the snow water came down
and forced them out. I went one day to see them, and they took a pan of
dirt from behind a big rock and washed it out, getting as much as two
teacupfuls of nuggets, worth perhaps a thousand dollars. When they went
away they said they would go to Germany to see their poor relatives and
friends, and one of them really went home, but the other two had spent
all their money before they were ready to leave San Francisco. These men
were, without doubt, the inventors of the canvas flume which was
afterward used so successfully in various places.

While I was still here the now famous Downieville Butte quartz mine was
discovered, but there was no way then of working quartz successfully,
and just at that time very little was done with it, but afterward, when
it was learned how to work it, and the proper machinery introduced, it
yielded large sums of bullion.

The miners had a queer way of calling every man by some nickname or
other instead of his true name, and no one seemed offended at it, but
answered to his new name as readily as to any.

It was nearly fall when we found we had worked our claims out, and there
were no new ones we could locate here, so we concluded to go prospecting
for a new locality. I bought a donkey in town of a Mr. Hawley, a
merchant, for which I paid sixty dollars, and gave the little fellow his
old master's name. We now had two animals, and we packed on them our
worldly goods, and started south up the mountain trail by way of the
city of six, where some half dozen men had located claims, but the
ground was dry and deep, so we went on.

We still went south, down toward the middle Yuba River and when about
half way down the mountain side came to a sort of level bench where some
miners were at work, but hardly any water could be had. They called this
Minnesota. We stayed here a day or two, but as there seemed to be no
possible further development of water, concluded to go on further.
Across the river we could see a little flat, very similar to the one we
were on, and a little prospecting seemed to have been done on the side
of the mountain. We had a terribly steep canon to cross, and a river
also, with no trail to follow, but our donkeys were as good climbers as
any of us, so we started down the mountain in the morning, and arrived
at the river about noon. Here we rested an hour or two and then began
climbing the brushy mountain side. The hill was very steep, and the sun
beat down on us with all his heat, so that with our hard labor and the
absence of any wind we found it a pretty hot place.

It was pretty risky traveling in some places, and we had to help the
donkeys to keep them from rolling down the hill, pack and all. It took
us four hours to make a mile and a half or two miles in that dense
brush, and we were nearly choked when we reached the little flat. Here
we found some water, but no one lived here. From here we could see a
large flat across a deep canon to the west, and made up our minds to try
to go to it. We went around the head of the canon, and worked through
the brush and fallen timber, reaching our objective point just as night
was coming on. This flat, like the one we had left, was quite level, and
contained, perhaps, nearly one hundred acres. Here we found two men at
work with a "long tom"--a Mr. Fernay and a Mr. Bloat. They had brought
the water of a small spring to their claim and were making five or six
dollars per day. We now prospected around the edge of this flat, and
getting pretty fair prospects concluded we would locate here if we could
get water.

We then began our search for water and found a spring about three
quarters of a mile away, to which we laid claim, and with a triangle
level began to survey out a route for our ditch. The survey was
satisfactory, and we found we could bring the water out high on the
flat, so we set to work digging at it, and turned the water in. The
ground was so very dry that all the water soaked up within two hundred
yards of the spring.

By this time we were out of grub, and some one must go for a new supply,
and as we knew the trail to Downieville was terribly rough, I was chosen
as the one to try to find Nevada City, which we thought would be nearer
and more easily reached. So I started south with the donkeys, up the
mountain toward the ridge which lies between the middle and south Yuba
Rivers, and when I got well on the ridge I found a trail used some by
wagons, which I followed till I came to a place where the ridge was only
wide enough for a wagon, and at the west end a faint trail turned off
south into the rolling hills. I thought this went about the course I
wanted to go, so I followed it, and after two or three miles came to the
south Yuba river. This seemed to be an Indian trail, no other signs on
it. I climbed the mountain here, and when I reached the top I found a
large tent made of blue drilling, and here I found I was four or five
miles from Nevada City with a good trail to follow. The rolling hills I
then passed through are now called North Bloomfield, and at one time
were known as "Humbug."

I started along the trail and soon reached the city where I drove my
donkeys up to a store which had out the sign "Davis & Co.." I entered
and inquiring the prices of various sorts of provisions such as flour,
bacon, beans, butter, etc., soon had selected enough for two donkey
loads. They assisted me in putting them in pack, and when it was ready I
asked the amount of my bill, which was one hundred and fifty dollars.
This I paid at once, and they gave me some crackers and dried beef for
lunch on the way. Davis said--"That is the quickest sale I ever made,
and here the man is ready to go. I defy any one to beat it." Before sun
down I was two or three miles on my way back where I found some grass
and camped for the night, picketed the animals, ate some of Mr. Davis'
grub for supper, and arranged a bed of saddle blankets. I arrived at
camp the next day about sun down.

Next day I went on up the divide and found a house on the trail leading
farther east, where two men lived, but they seemed to be doing nothing.
There were no mines and miners near there, and there seemed to be very
little travel on the trail. The fellows looked rough, and I suspected
they might be bad characters. The stream they lived near was afterward
called Bloody Run, and there were stories current that blood had been
shed there.

Here was a section of comparatively level land, for the mountain divide,
and a fine spring of good cold water, all surrounded by several hundred
acres of the most magnificent sugar pines California ever raised, very
large, straight as a candle, and one hundred feet or more to the lowest
limbs. This place was afterward called Snow Tent, and S.W. Churchill
built a sawmill at the spring, and had all this fine timber at the mercy
of his ax and saw, without anyone to dispute his right. He furnished
lumber to the miners at fifty dollars or more per thousand feet. Bloody
Run no doubt well deserves its name, for there was much talk of killing
done there.

I, however, went up and talked to the men and told them I wished to hire
a cross cut saw for a few days to get out stuff for a cabin, and agreed
to pay two dollars a day for the use of it till it came back.

We cut down a large sugar pine, cut off four six feet cuts, one twelve
feet, and one sixteen feet cut, and from these we split out a lot of
boards which we used to make a V-shaped flume which we placed in our
ditch, and thus got the water through. We split the longer cuts into two
inch plank for sluice boxes, and made a small reservoir, so that we
succeeded in working the ground. We paid wages to the two men who
worked, and two other men who were with us went and built a cabin.

I now went and got another load of provisions, and as the snow could be
seen on the high mountains to the east, I thought the deer must be
crowded down to our country, so I went out hunting and killed a big fat
buck, and the next day three more, so fresh meat was plenty.

About this time a man came down the mountain with his oxen and wagon,
wife and three or four children, the eldest a young lady of fifteen
years. The man's name was H. M. Moore. We had posted notices, according
to custom, to make mining laws, and had quite a discussion about a name
for the place. Some of the fellows wanted to name it after the young
lady, "Minda's Flat," but we finally chose "Moore's Flat" instead, which
I believe is the name it still goes by. Our laws were soon completed,
and a recorder chosen to record claims. We gave Mr. Moore the honor of
having a prospecting town named after him because he was the first man
to be on hand with a wife.

I became satisfied after a little that this place would be a very snowy
place, and that from all appearances it would fall from two to four feet
deep, and not a very pleasant place to winter in. An honest acquaintance
of mine came along, Samuel Tyler and to him I let my claim to work on
shares and made McCloud my agent, verbally, while I took my blankets and
started for the valley.

The first town I passed through was a newly discovered mining town
called French Corral. Here I found an old Wisconsin friend Wm. Sublet,
the foster father of the accomplishen wife of Mayor S.W. Boring of San
Jose. From here I went to Marysville. The storm had been raging high in
the mountains for some days, and the Yuba river rising fast, overflowing
its banks as I walked into town, and the next day the merchants were
very busy piling their goods above high water mark. I went to a hotel
and called for a bed. "Yes," says the landlord "Is your name John or
Peter?" I told him William, which he set down in his book and we went up
stairs to the best room which was fitted up with berths three tiers high
on each side, and only one or two empty ones. He looked around for
covers, but none could be found unoccupied, but one fellow who was sound
asleep and snoring awfully, so he took the blanket off from him saying:
"He wont know a thing about it till morning, be jabers, so don't say a
word."

Next morning the river was booming, its surface covered with all sorts
of mining outfit such as flume timber, rockers, various qualities of
lumber, pieces of trees as well as whole ones, water wheels and other
traps. The river between Downieville and here must have been swept clean
of all material that would float, including "long Toms." The water
continued to rise till it covered the Plaza, and in two days a steamer
came up and sailed across the public square. This looked like a wet
season to me, and when the boat was ready to go down the river I went on
board, bound for Sacramento. Here it was also getting terrible wet and
muddy, and the rain kept pouring down. In the morning I worked my way up
J street and saw a six-mule team wading up the streets the driver on
foot, tramping through the sloppy mud, occasionally stepping in a hole
and falling his whole length in the mud. On the street where so much
trouble was met by the teamsters, a lot of idlers stood on the sidewalk,
and when a driver would fall and go nearly out of sight, they would,
like a set of loafers, laugh at him and blackguard him with much noise,
and as they were numerous they feared nothing.

Suddenly a miner, who had lately arrived from the mountains, raised his
room window in the second story of a house, put out one leg and then his
body, as far as he could, and having nothing on but his night clothes,
shouted to the noisy crowd below:--"Say can't you d----d farmers plow
now?" At this he dodged back quickly into his window as if he expected
something might be thrown at him. The rain continued, and the water rose
gradually till it began to run slowly through the streets, and all the
business stopped except gambling and drinking whisky, which were freely
carried on in the saloons day and night.

While here in Sacramento I was sufficiently prompted by curiosity to go
around to the place on J street where the Legislature was in session. I
stood sometime outside the enclosure listening to the members who were
in earnest debate over a question concerning the size of mining claims.
They wanted them uniform in size all over the state, but there was some
opposition, and the debate on this occasion was between the members from
the mining counties on one side and the "cow" counties on the other. The
miners took the ground that the claims were of different richness in the
different mining localities and that the miners themselves were the best
judges of the proper size of claims, and were abundantly able to make
their own laws as they had done under the present mining customs, and
their laws had always been respected, making any further legislative
action unnecessary.

While this wrangle was going on. Capt. Hunt, of San Bernardino (our
guide from Salt Lake in 1849), came along and stopped where I stood,
shaking me heartily by the hand, inquiring where I was from, and when I
told him I was from the mines he said he thought the cow county fellows
were trying to make the miners some trouble. I told him the present
mining regulations suited us very well, and after he had talked with me
a little he went inside and whispered to some of the silent members that
the miners wanted no change, for he had just consulted a miner to that
effect. When occasion offered he called for a vote which resulted in the
defeat of the cow counties and a postponement of the measure
indefinitely.

My next move was to try to find a dryer place so I took a boat for
Benicia, then for Stockton, where I found a sea of mud, so that a man
needed stilts or a boat to cross the street.

Here in a livery stable I found my old Platte River boss, Chas. Dallas,
for whom I drove in 1849, but he did not seem to know me and took no
notice of me, but talked "horse" and horse-racing to the bystanders very
loudly. I suppose that Dallas had made money and did not care for a poor
ox driver, and on my part I did not care very much for his friendship,
so I walked away and left him without a word.

Every way I looked was a sea of black, sticky mud; dogs mired in the
streets and died, and teams and animals had forsaken the usual route of
travel. The gambling houses and saloons were crowded, gum boots in
demand, and the only way to get out of town was by water. I took this
way out, and on the same boat by which I came, going to San Francisco.
This was high and dry enough to be above the highest floods of Yuba,
Sacramento or San Joaquin, but all business except the saloons was dull.
Fronting on Portsmouth Square was the Hall of Corruption. Inside was a
magnificently furnished bar, more than one keeper and various gambling
tables, most of them with soiled doves in attendance. The room was
thronged with players and spectators, and coin and dust were plenty. The
dealers drew off their cards carefully, and seemed to have the largest
pile of coin on their side.

I climbed Russian Hill and to take a look over the city. It seemed
poorly built, but the portion that had been burned in July 1852, had
been built up again. The business part was near the beach and north of
Market street.

I had never lived in a town and did not know its ways, so I strolled
around alone, for without acquaintance I did not know where to go nor
what to look for. I therefore thought I would see some other part of the
country. I found that a schooner was about to sail for San Pedro, near
Los Angeles. I took hold of a rope to help myself on board, when it gave
way and I found myself floundering in the water. They helped me out and
the Captain gave me a dry suit to put on, I was profoundly grateful for
the favor, and found him a generous man.

We sailed away and stopped at Monterey for 24 hours which gave me a good
chance for a good look at the old Capitol houses, which were of adobe,
and to find that this city was also liberally supplied with gambling,
card and billiard tables. The majority of the people were Spanish and
fond of gaming, and the general appearance of the place was old and
without good improvements, though there were more two-story houses than
in most places in California.

Some houses were of stone, but more of adobe, and there seemed to be no
fertile country round, and the hills about had small pines on them.

Some of the sailors went out and gathered a large bag of mussels and
clams, from which they made a liberal allowance of chowder for the
table. After seven or eight days we arrived in San Pedro, and found the
town to consist of one long adobe house. The beach was low and sandy,
and we were wet somewhat in wading through a light surf to get on shore.
We had on board a Mr. Baylis, who we afterward learned came down with
Capt. Lackey on a big speculation which was to capture all the wild
goats they could on Catalina Island, and take them to San Francisco for
slaughtering.

The goats were easily captured and taken on board the schooner, and
thence to shore but many were drowned in the transit, and when driven to
San Francisco the dead were scattered all along the route. Although wild
they seemed to lack the vitality that tame goats possess. The
speculation proved a disappointment to the projectors.

At the adobe house, kept by a Spaniard we had breakfast, then shouldered
our packs for the march of ten leagues to Los Angeles for there was no
chance to ride. It was night before we reached the City of Angels, and
here I staid a day to take a look at the first city I saw in California
in March 1850.

I inquired for my mining companion, W.M. Stockton who worked with
Bennett and myself near Georgetown in 1850, and found he lived near the
old mission of San Gabriel nine miles away, whither I walked and found
him and family well and glad to see me. He had jumped an old pear
orchard which was not claimed by the Mission Fathers, although it was
only three-fourths of a mile away. The trees were all seedlings and very
large, probably 50 or more years old. Some of the Mission buildings were
falling down since they had been abandoned, and the Americans would go
to these houses and remove the tile flooring from the porches and from
the pillars that supported them. These tiles were of hard burned clay,
in pieces about a foot square, and were very convenient to make fire
places and pavements before the doors of their new houses. Out-side the
enclosed orange and fig orchard at this place were some large olive and
fig trees, apparently as old as the mission, being a foot or more in
diameter and about 50 feet high. I had never seen olives, and when I saw
these trees covered with plenty of fruit about the size of damson plums
I took the liberty of tasting it and found it very disagreeable, and
wondered of what use such fruit could be.

Mr. Stockton fenced his orchard by setting posts and tying sycamore
poles to them to keep the stock away, built an adobe house on the claim
and called the property his. I went to work for him at once, pruning the
trees, which improved their appearance, and then turned on a little
stream of water which ran through the place, and on down to the mission.
With this treatment the trees did well without cultivation.

I bought one half the stock consisting of some Spanish cows, one yoke of
oxen and some horses, worked enough to pay my board, watched the stock
and still had plenty of time to ride around over the adjoining country.

When the pears were ripe the Spanish men, women and children eagerly
bought them at 25 cents per dozen and some Sundays the receipts for
fruit sold would be as high as $100. That taken to town would bring from
$5. to $8. per box, the boxes being a little larger than those in
present use. An Indian woman, widow of a Mr. Reed, claimed a vineyard
near the orchard, and laid claim to the whole property, so Stockton gave
her $1000 for a quit claim deed.

Near by was a small artificial lake made by a dam of cobble stones, laid
in cement across a ravine, which was built perhaps 50 years before, and
yet the tracks of a child who had walked across before the cement was
dry, were plainly seen.

Stockton and I visited Mr. Roland, an old settler who lived south of San
Gabriel river, and staid all night with him, finding him very sociable
and hospitable. All his work was done by Indians who lived near by, and
had been there as long as he. He had a small vineyard, and raised corn,
squashes, melons and all that are necessary for his table, having also a
small mill near by for grinding corn and wheat without bolting. The
Indians made his wine by tramping the grapes with their feet in a
rawhide vat hung between four poles set in the ground. The workmen were
paid off every Saturday night, and during Sunday he would generally sell
them wine enough to get about all the money back again. This had been
his practice for many years, and no doubt suited Mr. Roland as well as
the red men.

Roland was an old Rocky Mountain trapper who came to California long
before gold was discovered, and during the evening the talk naturally
ran to the subject of early days.

Mr. Roland related that while his party were in camp in the upper
Colorado they were visited by a small band of Indians who professed
friendship and seated themselves around the fire. Suddenly they made an
attack and each trapper had an Indian to contend with, except Mr. Roland
who was left to be dispatched afterwards. But as he ran, a squaw among
them followed him, and after a while overtook him and showed friendship.
He had neither gun or knife and so concluded to put faith in the woman
who safely guided him in a long tramp across the desert where they both
came near starving, but finally reached Los Angeles Valley, when the
brave squaw mingled with her own people and he lost sight of her
forever.

No white man could alone have traversed that desert waste and found food
enough to last him half the journey.

He gradually learned to speak Spanish, and was granted the piece of land
he applied for, and where he then lived; married a Spanish girl, with
whom he had a happy home and raised a large family, and grew rich, for
they were both industrious and economical. The first wife died, and he
was persuaded to marry a Texas widow, and now had to buy the first
carriage he ever owned, and furnish a fine turn-out and driver for the
lady, who wore much jewelry and fine clothes, and spent money freely.
Roland was not a society man, his thoughts and habits were different
from his wife, and he staid at home, better contented there.

There were many other pioneers in the neighborhood, Dan Sexton, Col.
Williams, of Chino ranch, Workman, B.D. Wilson, Abel Stearns, Temple,
Wolfskill and many others, Scott and Granger were lawyers. Granger was
the same man who read the preamble and resolutions that were to govern
our big train as we were about to start from Utah Lake.

Scott was quite a noted member of the bar, and when Gen. Winfield Scott
ran for President, some wide awake politicians caused the uneducated
Spaniards to vote for their favorite lawyer instead of the redoubtable
general, and they did this with a good will for they thought the famous
avocado was the best man, and thus the manipulators lost many votes to
the real candidate. Scott was afterward retained by many of the
Spaniards to present their claims for their land to the U.S. Government
and was considered a very able man.

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