Part 7

Civil War Times In S. F.

In 1861 Dr. Wm. A. Scott, pastor of the Calvary Presbyterian church, on the north side of Bush street between Montgomery and Sansome streets, closed his services praying for the presidents of the Union and of the Confederate States. As soon as the benediction was pronounced Mrs. Thomas H. Selby smuggled him out of the side door into her carriage and off to her home, fearing the congregation, which had became a seething mob, might capture and do him bodily harm. There was no demonstration at this time but the next morning there was to be seen in effigy Dr. Scott's form hanging from the top of the second story of a building in course of construction on the same block. It created some excitement for the time being, but it soon simmered out.

Lloyd Tevis was getting badly frightened about this time for fear his home on the corner of Taylor and Jackson streets would be destroyed and appealed to the police for protection. He was told to go home and drape his home in black. This he did most effectually, the occasion being the assassination of President Abraham Lincoln.

One of the exciting times in San Francisco in 1865 was when a mob went to the office of "The Examiner" on Washington street near Sansome and carried everything that was movable into the street and piled it up with the intention of burning. It seems that this paper was so pronounced in its sympathy with the cause of the Confederacy that it aroused such a feeling as to cause drastic measures. The police authorities were informed of what was going on and Colonel Wood, captain of police, got a squad of policemen together and proceeded to the scene, but their movements were so slow that it was hard to tell whether they were moving or not and by the time they had reached the place the boys had carried off nearly everything that had been thrown out. I have two pieces of type now that I picked up in the street about that time.

Uncle Phil Roach, the editor, was in later years a member of the State Legislature and tried to get an appropriation to cover his loss but his efforts were of no avail.

President Lincoln and Gen. Vallejo.

President Lincoln in the early part of the Civil War called General Vallejo to Washington on business. While there General Vallejo suggested to Mr. Lincoln that the United States build a railroad into Mexico, believing as he said, it would be a benefit to both nations. Mr. Lincoln smilingly asked, "What good would it do for our people to go down to Mexico even if the railroads were built? They would all die of fever and according to your belief go down yonder," with a motion of his hand towards the supposed location of the infernal regions. "I wouldn't be very sorry about that," remarked General Vallejo coolly. "How so?" said Mr. Lincoln. "I thought you liked the Yankees." "So I do," was the answer. "The Yankees are a wonderful people, wonderful. Wherever they go they make improvements. If they were to emigrate in large numbers to hell itself, they would somehow manage to change the climate."

Off to the Nevada Mines.

Uncle Billy Rodgers, from Peoria, Ill., was a fellow passenger of mine when crossing the plains in 1849 in the first division of the "Turner, Allen & Co. Pioneer Mule Train," consisting of 40 wagons, 150 mules and 150 passengers. He was a gambler before he left home and he gambled all the way across the plains. Many people think that a gambler has no heart but this man was all heart. I knew him on one occasion, after visiting a sick man in camp, to take off his shirt and give it to the sick man and go about camp for an hour to find one for himself.

We arrived in California on September 10, 1849. We parted about that time and I saw no more of him until the winter of '68 and '69 when I was on my way to White Pine in Nevada. We had to lay over a few days at Elko, Nevada, in order to get passage in the stage. As we had saddles and bridles we made an effort to get some horses and furnish our own transportation, and we had partly made arrangements with a man by the name of Murphy. The day previous to this I overheard a conversation between two gentlemen sitting at the opposite end of a red hot stove. After they parted I approached the one left and said, "Is this Uncle Billy?" He said, "Yes, everybody calls me 'Uncle Billy' but I do not know you." I gave him my name and he was as glad to see me as I was to see him. We had a long and very pleasant chat.

Now to take up the line of march where I left off, I said, "Hold on boys a little while I go and see a friend of mine." "All right," said they. I called on Uncle Billy and told him what we were doing and asked him what kind of a man Murphy was, and his answer was, "He's a very good blacksmith," and repeated it two or three times, then said, "I am in a wild country and never say anything against anybody." I said, "That's enough Uncle Billy, I understand you thoroughly." I parted with him and we took the stage for Hamilton and Treasure Hill. The last I heard of Uncle Billy was that he went north as an escort to some party and died there. Uncle Billy was a gambler all his life but not a drinker. His heart, his hand and his pocket were ever open and ready to respond to the relief of the distress of others. The writing of the above calls to mind another meeting with Uncle Billy of which I had lost sight, the date of which I cannot fix. I think it was in the first half of '60 I met him on the street in San Francisco and our meeting was most cordial. We had a very pleasant street visit and he said to me, "Woolley, I am going home, I shall take the next steamer for New York." I said to him, "How are you fixed, Uncle Billy?" He said, "I have eleven thousand dollars and I am going home." I congratulated him for his courage and good luck and wished him a pleasant voyage and a happy reunion with his old friends. About a week later I met Uncle Billy on the street again and said to him, "How is this Uncle Billy, I thought you were going home on the last steamer?"

"Yes," said he, "I thought so too; at the same time, I thought I would just step into a faro bank and win just enough to pay my passage home so that I would have even money when I got home. But instead of that I lost every dollar I had and I am going back into the mountains again. My readers know the rest."

My friends this is only one of thousands who had the same experience.

In 1868 "the girl I left behind me" went East on a visit of six months, taking with her our two children.

In the fall of that year (1868) I went to White Pine in Nevada. It was a very cold trip for me and I came home in June "thawed out," sold out my grocery business and went into the produce commission business and followed it for ten years.

Martin J. Burke.

Chief of Police Martin J. Burke I knew very well in the early sixties. He was a genial and good natured man, well liked by everybody who knew him. I went to him one time with a curb bit for a bridle which would bring the curb rein into action with only one pair of reins. He was much pleased with it and used one for a long while. George C. Shreve, the jeweler, had one also, as did Charles Kohler, of the firm of Kohler & Frohling, wine men of San Francisco. He offered me $3000 for my right but I refused it. I applied for a patent only to find that another was about twenty years ahead of me.

The Donahue Brothers.

James, Peter and Michael Donahue, the founders of the Union Iron Works on First and Mission streets, were three honorable, upright and just men. Their works have since been removed to the Potrero south of the Third and Townsend streets depot of the Southern Pacific Co., and have of late passed into the hands of the United Steel Corporation. They are the largest of their kind on the Pacific Coast and stand a monument to their founders. James Dunahue built and owned the Occidental Hotel on Montgomery street between Sutter and Bush streets. Peter Donahue had the foundry and machine shop. At one time there was a little misunderstanding understanding between the two and they did not speak to each other for quite a while. During this time Peter started to build an addition of brick on the north side of the foundry, got up one story and stopped. The two brothers met one day opposite the unfinished building and James said, "Peter why don't you go on and finish your building?" Peter replied, "I have not got money enough." "Oh!" said James, "go ahead and finish it up and I will let you have all the money you want." 'From that time on they resumed their brotherly relations. Peter went on in his business. His last venture was to build the Petaluma railroad. Both are now dead. Michael went East early in the '50s and I knew very little of him.

The Take of A Young Bull.

In 1870 I was in the produce commission business in San Francisco and had a consignor in Vacaville by the name of G. N. Platt who had been presented with a fine young bull by Frank M. Pixley, who lived in Sausalito, in the hills about two miles from town. Mr. Platt requested me to go and get the bull and ship him to Vacaville, so I left next morning for Sausalito. Here I sought a man who could throw the lasso. After two hours I found the man I wanted. He had the mustangs and all the necessary equipment. We mounted and left for Mr. Pixley's residence where we were informed that the animal we wanted was somewhere in the hills with the other cattle. This was rather indefinite information, but we had to make the best of it and started out. Our mustangs were well calculated for the occasion and we went over the hills like kites. Finally we saw some cattle about a mile away and we made for them, found what we were in search of and made for him. He had horns about two inches long and was as light on his feet as a deer, and gave us a lively chase for about one hour. When we had him at the end of a rope he was determined to go just the opposite way than we wanted him to, but the man and the mustang at the other end of the rope had their way part of the time, so after about two hours hard fighting we succeeded in getting the little fellow down to the wharf where I found that there would not be another boat until after dark, so I concluded to wait and come over in the morning and ship him. The next thing was to dispose of the bull for the night. I said, "Here is a coal bunker, we will put him in here." So after getting permission we started for it with the bull at one end of the rope and the vaquero at the other. The bull got a little the better of the man and went up the wharf full tilt with the vaquero in tow. The vaquero said, "There is a post on the wharf, the bull will go one side and I will go the other and round him up." But he got rounded up himself and left sprawled out on the wharf. This let the curtain down for the night and the bull went back to the hills with the rope. I returned to San Francisco, went back in the morning, hunted up my man and mustangs, mounted and went into the hills again for my bull. This was a bully ride, I enjoyed it hugely, found our game about noon, picked up the rope with the bull on the end of it. He was still wild and full of resistance. He was the hardest fellow of his size that I ever attempted to handle. We made our way back to the landing, found the boat waiting. I called the boat hands to help put him on board. They came. I put one at his head, one on each side and one behind, and they all had as much as they wanted to keep control of him. Finally he was made fast on the boat. While on our way to San Francisco a lady from the upper deck called down to me, saying, "I will give you one hundred dollars for that bull." I said, "No, madam, you cannot have him, he is going into the country for business."

After landing in San Francisco I had to take him from one wharf to another so as to take the Vacaville boat. I got a job wagon and the boat hands to take him out and tie the fellow to the hind axle of the wagon and then go by his side to the other boat. We fastened him securely to a stanchion and tagged to his destination. This relieved me of any further responsibility. I saw him about three years later in Vacaville. He was a fine large fellow with all the fire in his eye that he had in his younger days. He had a large ring in his nose with a chain running from it to the end of each horn. Now as my readers have had the bear story, and now the bull story, they will excuse me on those two subjects.

Admission Day 1875.

Another event that might be of interest and worthy of reciting here on account of the many noted personages that partook in the celebration was the ceremonies connected with the 25th anniversary of the admission of California as a State into the Union, September 9, 1875.

The principal places of business, banks and offices were all closed and the buildings and streets were gaily bedecked with flags and bunting. The "bear flag" being in evidence everywhere. The shipping presented a pretty sight, the vessels seeming to outvie each other in their efforts to display the greatest amount of bunting and flags.

One of the features of the day was the parade. The procession started from in front of the Hall of the Pioneers on Montgomery street north of Jackson, marched along Montgomery to Market, to Eleventh, to Mission and thence to Woodward's Gardens, where the exercises were held. When opposite the Lick House, James Lick, the honored president of the society, who reviewed the passing pioneers from his rooms, was given a rousing salute by each of the delegations as they passed. In this parade were members of the pioneer organizations from Sacramento, Stockton, Marysville, Vallejo, Sonoma, Marin, Napa, Mendocino, Lake and Placerville, as well as the parent organization of San Francisco.

The escort consisted of the 1st, 2nd and 3rd Regiments, 2nd Brigade, N. G. C., Col. W. H. L. Barnes, Col. John McComb and Col. Archie Wason, respectively. Brig. Gen. John Hewston, Jr., commanding. Marshal Huefner and his aide followed. Next came the several visiting pioneer organizations, then the carriages of invited guests, orator, reader and others. Then the home society, turning out 427 strong.

Among the persons of note to have been seen and who wore the golden badge indicating that they had come here prior to 1849, were Carlos F. Glein, A. A. Green, A. G. Abel, George Graft, W. P. Toler, Thos. Edgar, G. W. Ross, P. Kadel, F. Ballhaus, W. C. Hinckley, H. B. Russ, A. G. Russ, Owen Murry, B. P. Kooser, J. E. Winson, Arthur Cornwall, E. A. Engleberg, Wm. Jeffry, Capt. Hinckley, Wm. Huefner, Thos. Roche, F. G. Blume, John C. Ball and Thomas Eagar.