Built in 1853. Still standing and occupied. Its material came around
the Horn.]
It was almost five when the signal was given for "all ashore," and in
an hour we were steaming along the coast and out of sight of Panama.
The sea was calm and the steamer was steady and I supposed I would
fare better than I had during the first part of the trip. But as soon
as I smelled the smoke from the stacks and the odor of the cooking
food, I was as miserable as before. The rest of the family fared
better and were able to go to the table when the sea was calm. There
were about fifty cabin passengers, and during this voyage we made
several lifelong friends of some of the most prominent men who came
here to make their fortunes. We received the most courteous treatment
from every one. It was like one large family. Captain Totten and First
Officer A.J. Clifton were like fathers to us. Mr. Clifton claimed me,
as I was the age of his daughter left at home, and I used to sing for
him and then I was his "Nightingale." We had learned a song to sing
for our father when we expected him home, and as he did not come we
related the incident to the captain and Mr. Clifton and our friends on
board, and nothing must do until we sang it for all on board. It was
on a moonlight night and we were going smoothly, consequently I was
not ill, and Captain Totten proposed that we should sing the song.
Everybody was on deck enjoying the delightful evening. Everything was
still; only the puffing of the smokestack and the plash of the wheel
were heard. We all clustered around mother and began our song.
"Home again, home again from a foreign shore,
And O! it fills my soul with joy to meet my friends once more.
Here we dropped the parting tear to cross the ocean's foam,
But now we're once again with those who kindly greet me home.
Home again, home again," etc.
Mother, Emma and Sarah sang the soprano; Mary, Margaret and Lauretta
sang the alto. Mary's voice being a deep contralto, she improvised the
third part. The plaintive song, with the sentiment of home
surroundings, touched the hearts of all the passengers and turned
their thoughts homewards, and many an eye glistened with tears.
After the first night of song there never was an evening that there
was not singing of some kind. Sister found some good voices among the
men and we formed a chorus. In a short time we were without an
audience, for everybody gradually found he had a note or two to use,
and whenever it was good sailing we sang. We had two severe storms
when I, for one, was not visible on any occasion. I must confess the
sea and I are not at all friends. We had one storm passing the bay of
Tehuantepec. The steamer rolled and the sea dashed high for two days,
but the boat was faithful to her trust and we safely steamed into the
beautiful bay at Acapulco the last of the week. I had been ill all the
way, going without food, and when we arrived Captain Totten said I
should have one fine dinner. After the passengers had gone ashore we
were taken off in the captain's boat and had our dinner at the hotel
where the captain had ordered it in advance. We remained on shore all
day visiting this Spanish town while the steamer was loading food and
coal. We visited some Spanish homes where the captain had friends, and
we were entertained by these Castilian ladies, who sang their songs to
us. In return we sang for them and they appreciated our music. About
three o'clock we said good-bye and they gave us beautiful mementos of
shell flowers, nuts and fruits and accompanied us to the boat with
their servants to carry our gifts for us. Such a beautiful day of
happenings and surprises for us who had never seen people of this kind
before left lasting impressions in my heart of courtesy and kindness.
By nine in the evening we had left the bay and our newly made friends
far behind and we were steaming toward California as fast as the
steamer could carry us. We had come nearly half the way and were
nearing Lower California when we encountered rough weather off Cape
Lucas. Oh, how the ship tossed and rolled. I thought morning never
would dawn. The wind was against us. The masts strained and creaked. I
really feared we would not reach California. The sea was rough nearly
all the time until we passed Santa Barbara, when it became calm and we
could once more feel that we might reach our destination. We had been
now three weeks on the way and we were longing for sight of land. We
strained our eyes daily, hoping to see the hills, but not until we had
come within two days of the Golden Gate did we see any sign of land.
Fog and distance prevented our distinguishing anything but an outline
of the shore, but as the fog lifted we saw more distinctly the hills,
and each hour brought us nearer to the long-looked-for harbor within
the Golden Gate. And yet we saw no city, only sand hills. We steamed
past Telegraph Hill, then we began to see here and there low wooden
buildings and tents and shacks. Was this then San Francisco? Oh, how
disappointed we were; there was no place to go. We remained on board
until the Stockton steamer arrived. There was no accommodation for
women anywhere. The steamer, American Eagle, came in about 1 o'clock,
and our things were transferred on board, and Captain Totten cared for
us as though we were his family and had everything arranged as far as
possible for our comfort. He explained to the river captain that we
were to be met in Stockton by father. But the captain also had
instructions from Rev. J.H. Woods not to expect father, who had been
ill in the mines, but we were to go to his home until father could
arrive from Scorpion Gulch, where he and brother had a store, and it
was slow travel with the six-mule "schooner," over hills and dusty
roads to Stockton.
It was quite a change from the great steamer Tennessee to the little
stern-wheel boat as it slowly puffed across the bay through Carquinez
straits and up the slough, turning and winding along, sometimes being
caught by a sharp turn in the stream and one or two stops on the sand
bars if the water was too low. We did not sleep much because
everything was so strange and small. We were always in fear of some
accident. The hours dragged slowly until morning, when the boat came
to a stop about seven o'clock. At eight o'clock the small cannon was
fired, informing the people that the steamer had arrived. The captain
came about nine o'clock for us and we breakfasted with him and the
officers. We were the only female passengers, as we had parted with
the other friends at San Francisco, they having gone to Sacramento and
Marysville, with their husbands, to the mines. It was like the parting
of a large family. We had been together two long months, sharing the
changes and rough traveling and the happy evenings on board where the
genial officers did all they could to make the voyage comfortable with
the means they possessed. Before we came only men traveled and they
put up with any inconvenience to get to the gold fields. About ten
o'clock our friend, Rev. Mr. Woods, met us and gave us the message
sent by father, so it was arranged we should go to the reverend
gentleman's home and await his and brother George's coming. Mrs. Woods
was a Southern lady, from Alabama, and met us with warm hospitality.
She was glad to see us, being the only white woman in Stockton at the
time. And we were glad to meet another woman. These good people had
several boys but no girls. We were seven girls and one boy. As
ministers' families, we had much in common. The Woods' cottage was
pretty well crowded, but we managed well, as every one was able to be
a help instead of a burden. A tent was put up in the lot and bunks
were soon made, and we put the men in the tents and the women and
children indoors. We were not yet acclimated and suffered with colds
for several weeks.
We patiently awaited father's return, but three whole weeks passed
before the meeting was granted us. We were sitting in front of the
cottage, chatting and sewing, when about four o'clock in the afternoon
we saw several men approaching and, as we observed them, my quick eye
recognized father. With one spring from the porch I cried, "Father,"
and as fleet as a rabbit I was off before any one realized what was
the cause of my sudden exit. They watched my flying feet and by the
time they realized what I was doing I was in the arms of the dear old
daddy, coming slowly with Mr. Woods, brother George and two friends.
It was our habit, as children, to always meet father when he came home
at night, and when we all ran to meet him the youngest always received
the first attention, being taken in his arms, and the others clung to
his coat and skipped alongside, chatting as fast as we could until we
entered the house. Words cannot express the joy of the meeting after
more than two years' separation. When mother realized that father had
come at last she was like one dazed and could not move. The children
in their happiness were surrounding the long lost wanderers. At last
father spoke, with tears of gladness in his eyes, "Where is Mary, your
mother, my children?" We had monopolized his attention and poor mother
was neglected for the moment. As soon as we had realized the oversight
sister Mary beckoned us all away and we gradually disappeared and left
the two to enjoy their happy reunion. After a half hour had passed,
and while they were softly conversing, we gathered in the main room
and, clustering around sister Mary, we began the song--
"Home again, home again from a foreign shore,
And oh it fills my soul with joy to meet my friends once more."
Rev. Mr. Woods and family were more than surprised to find such voices
among us, and their appreciation was so genuine we gave them one of
our dear old German hymns, a favorite of father's also.
[Illustration: First Presbyterian Church, Washington street, Stockton,
California, built in 1849, the first Protestant church in California.
Mrs. Blake-Alverson, as Miss Kroh, was contralto of the first choir,
organized in 1852.]
The singing seemed to give new life to his long struggle in the
ministry. His was the only church in Stockton at that time, besides a
Catholic church, and it was uphill work to get the men to come to
service. A new thought came to him that perhaps music in the church
might be an incentive for men to forsake one day thinking of gold. So
the choir was established and a large melodeon was secured from San
Francisco from one of the music stores which had been established.
Joseph Atwill began the music business on Washington street in 1850,
just one year before we arrived in November, 1851. It was soon noised
about that the family of Rev. H. Kroh were singers and that by the
first of the month there would be a choir in the Presbyterian church.
A melodeon was to be purchased. Miss M. Kroh was to play the organ and
direct the music and the sisters were to sing. During the time the
melodeon was on the way we had become acquainted with William Trembly,
a fine tenor; James Holmes, bass; William Cobb, tenor; Will Belding,
bass; Samuel Grove, tenor; and William H. Knight, bass.
[Illustration: Pioneer home of the family of Rev. Dr. Henry Kroh, the
father of Margaret Blake-Alverson, Stockton, California, December,
1851.]
Father had returned to take charge of his store and we had moved into
the only house to be found, a story and a half high with eight rooms
and a canvas kitchen. We would call it a barn today, but we thought it
a palace. It was originally built for a small hotel, cloth and paper
on the walls and ceiling, roughened wood floors, everything of the
most primitive make. The rent of it was $80 a month and it cost $1,100
to furnish it. We had matting for carpets, the most common kitchen
chairs in the best room, kitchen table for a center table, and our
dining table was made of two long redwood boards joined together and
placed on four saw horses. Having had so much to do in making the best
out of nothing in the many places before, we had not lost the art of
arranging the furnishings of this house. Fortunately we did not
sacrifice all of our bedding, linens and quilts. We were allowed them
in the freight. The stores kept nothing but the brightest colored
prints and some bright damasks for the use of the Indians who came
down from the mountains and traded for such things. We could get white
cotton cloth, so we were able to have curtains at the windows combined
with red damask. We covered boxes with the same damask, and with
castors screwed on the corners we had some very comfortable stools.
Then a square of damask was properly finished off and made a table
cover for the center table. When all was done we began to feel we were
once more at home. There was yet something lacking. We had no piano
and we were lost without the usual music that made our home so happy.
Dear sister Mary, how we all pitied her. We knew she was suffering
daily from homesickness, the separation from her sweetheart, the loss
of her organ and piano and no companionship with musical people.
Although she never murmured, we could see that her mind was where her
heart was. But her duty was here. She was bravely battling day by day.
We all saw it and hoped against hope to change the condition.
Finally the choir had been formed and the melodeon came. That was soon
compensation for her loss. So the rehearsals began, and on the first
Sunday of the month we gave the first service. We had anthems from the
old Carmina Sacra and familiar hymns and our new found friends all
joined the choir. It was a great service. It seemed that everybody
from the pastor to the choir was inspired. Such an outpouring of men!
Mother and Mrs. Woods in the congregation and five of us in the choir
composed all the female portion of the congregation. The rest
consisted of men of mature years and young men away from home and
entering a church for the first time perhaps in this new country. When
the hour arrived for service the church could hold no more. Those who
could not enter stood outside the door during the whole service. The
evening service was a repetition, and those who could not get into the
church obtained boxes and laid boards upon them and kneeled before the
windows which were opened so they could hear the sermon and the
singing. It was a strange sight for the men to see women and
especially young girls. The miners would come to Stockton on Saturday
to frequent the resorts. Drinking and card playing formed their
diversions. Many a young man turned away from the gaming table to
listen to the music and hear the sermon.
We arrived in Stockton the latter part of November. 1851, and remained
with Rev. James Woods until we obtained this house, where we remained
two years. During that time we had formed the acquaintance of the
foremost merchants, bankers and professional men. The first
Thanksgiving we invited the following gentlemen to dinner: William H.
Knight, Samuel Grove, William Belding, William Gray, Austin Sperry,
Frederick Lux, C.V. Payton, James Harrold, William Trembly, David
Trembly, James Holmes, Thomas Mosely, Charles Deering, Gilbert
Claiborne, Mr. Shoenewasser, Mr. Thompson, B.W. Bours, Charles
Woodman, William Cobb and Charles Greenly. Brother George still had
his team of mules and the large schooner and made his regular trips
from Scorpion Gulch with his friend, Fred Lux, who also was engaged in
the same business. On their way down for this occasion they killed
enough wild game to serve bountifully the needs for this first
Thanksgiving dinner, as the usual turkey was not to be obtained. Wild
geese, rabbits and squirrels were plentiful and our hearts were
gladdened to see such a display. How we worked and baked and planned!
By many willing hands the dinner was prepared and the guests began to
arrive. Including our family, there were thirty in all. Our home had
but two rooms on the first floor. A large parlor, hall and stairway
faced upon the main street, and the dining room led out from the hall
and was large enough to seat many guests. The kitchen was made of
canvas and led into the dining room. There were three fine windows in
the dining room, so it made a pleasant and cheerful place. Although
everything was of the plainest sort, the long table with the white
cloth and greens from the pine trees the boys had cut as they came
along, and the wild flowers we had gathered and placed in bowls to
grace the tables with the greens which were arranged tastefully in
wreaths and festoons, gave a homelike welcome to these men who for
months had not eaten a home dinner or enjoyed the society of women. As
the darkness came on, we lit up the room with candles, having no other
lights. We had not forgotten to bring our brass candlesticks among our
household effects. Mother could not part with them, so they were
carefully packed among our clothing in the trunks and served us
beautifully on this occasion. They got an extra polish of whiting from
sister and me, who were the decorators on this occasion, and we had to
attend to the tables while mother and the older sisters made the
cakes, pies and prepared the roasts and meat pies and other necessary
additions for a dinner of this kind. Father, mother and the older
sisters sat with the guests, and sister Sarah and I waited upon the
table. As young as I was, the impression was a lasting one. Some of
the gentlemen looked sad, some dignified, others joked and others
related stories of home and their experiences in different places
in California until the dinner was over and we adjourned to the
parlor.
[Illustration:
Richard Condy
Judge H.B. Underhill
Mary Jane Lloyd
Mrs. Anna Bowden-Shattuck
Lizzie Fisher
Carrie Heinemann
Mr. Schnable
Ellen Lloyd
Mrs. Taylor