San Francisco.--Bustling Traffic.--Railroad Employees.--The
Flagman.--The Palace Hotel.--The Seal Rocks.--Sutro Residence and
Baths.--The Presidio.--Sentinels.--Golden Gate Park.--The Memorial
Cross.--San Francisco and Edinburgh Compared.--The Cable Cars.--
Chinatown.--The Opium Den.--The Goldsmiths' Shops.--Across the
Bay to Tiburon.--The Bohemian Club.
In San Francisco we had a couple of full days and fragments of two
others, all too short to fully take in the wonders of that romantic
city, so bizarre, so strange, and in its way so attractive.
After coming across the Bay from Oakland, we found ourselves in the
midst of the noise and bustle of the railroad yards, fronting on a
street crowded with teams and wagons from morning until night; and in
the night, the ever-resounding snorts of the iron horse were not found
as soothing as the nightingales of San Remo; but one cannot have
everything. If you travel thousands of miles in the same car, and are
proud to reach home in the same palatial manner, the nuisances of the
depot are of minor importance, after all.
The huge wagons hung low near the ground, groaning under merchandise in
transit, and the splendid horses which drew them were worth looking at.
The ever-wakeful life of railroad men and their unceasing labors must
increase one's respect for that class of people, so strong, so active,
so intelligent, and so self-reliant, which garrison the fortresses and
outposts of trade all over the American continent. Such a life is a
training-ground for possible armies of another kind, which a touch on
the American flag, or on our national honor, could transform in a flash
into a formidable and reliable force in any emergency.
In my musings while in this busy place, my attention was called to a
flagman just opposite where our car was anchored. I explored his shanty
and had a good chat with him. His little place was bright without and
within. Outside were flowers and shrubs; within not a speck of dust was
to be seen. It was as shipshape as the best kind of a New England home,
having a place for everything, and everything in its place.
In the intervals of his labor, he had time for a quiet rest on an
improvised seat outside his cabin door. That seat attracted me. It was
like stone, but its peculiar shape told me it was a joint from the
vertebrae of a whale. It was just a piece of gigantic bric-a-brac, well
seasoned, which one might covet. I asked him what he would take for it.
"Oh," said he, "I could not sell that; it was here before I came, and
will remain after me." One could not but respect the sentiment which
would regard a tradition rather than pocket a possible dollar. I had
too much admiration for such fine feelings to offer to tempt the man
again with a new proposal.
A little later on in our stay, we all adjourned to the Palace Hotel, an
enormous hostelry which was once the wonder of the continent, and yet
has, with its huge interior glass court, a certain air about it quite
magnificent.
From there we made excursions to some of the stock sights of the place.
We went out to the Seal Rocks and saw the Pacific breakers dash up on
the huge crags, where the seals, or sea-lions rather, for they are not
true seals, mowed and roared and tumbled over each other in their
awkward progress on the cliffs. We saw them also in their element,
darting gracefully through the waves. We saw Sutro's Baths near by, a
huge structure with splendid accommodation for bathers. We saw also the
grounds and residence of Sutro, the rich man who built those baths at
his own expense, and for the benefit of the people. The grounds of the
residence were filled with statues and ornamental sculptures, too
lavish for good taste; but, let us admit, at least, that the intention
to thus decorate was certainly good. We also saw the Presidio, or army
station, and were severely, but most politely, warned off from certain
points by armed and mounted sentries. It was a little touch of the war
spirit and order, not displeasing. The sentry with whom we parleyed
was a type of the American soldier, self-reliant, unconventional,
intelligent, and polite. When one looks at such men, they see the new
ideas which have discarded forever the millinery of military life.
There are no more restraining straps and buckles; no more pipeclay; no
more propping up, like trussed fowls, of chest and shoulders; but all
is free, natural, and unrestrained.
We drove out over the bare sand hills, which myriads of lupins of
various shades of purple and yellow, were doing their best to clothe
and glorify. We came to Golden Gate Park in our drive, and thoroughly
enjoyed its extent, the glory of its trees and strange shrubs, and,
among other sculptures, the splendid monument to Francis Key, the
author of the "Star Spangled Banner." From the park, we could see the
surrounding mountains, and on their slopes the distant buildings of
various educational institutions, of splendid proportions.
The great stone cross, commemorative of the first religious services
held on the Pacific Coast in the time of Sir Francis Drake, loomed up
grandly at some distance from us, but we could not get our Jehu to
drive us to it; there was always some excuse at hand. The late George
William Childs, of Philadelphia, caused its erection, to commemorate
these first services of the Church of England; but a cunning myth is
circulated in San Francisco that it is an advertisement for a stone
quarry!
San Francisco, situated as it is, on a series of precipitous hills,
presents some magnificent and picturesque views. It is a sort of
gigantic and altogether exaggerated Edinburgh. When one thinks of
Edinburgh, however, with its castled crag and Holyrood, and the gardens
right through the city, one is almost ashamed to compare a bijou like
it, with a huge creature like San Francisco, which suggests, somehow, a
kind of prehistoric being, of dragon-like shape and unimagined power.
This prehistoric suggestion which San Francisco gives, is further
carried out by the untempered breath of its climate. The trade winds
blow in fiercely in the afternoons, and the chill sea fog creeps over
everything with a ferocious persistency quite appalling. The promontory
on which the city stands is open to all gales, and one's clothing,
throughout the year, must be of such a kind, as always to be capable of
resisting borean blasts.
This strange, unfamiliar look of San Francisco, is further carried out
by the huge, reddish-yellow bars which mark its form. These are the
streets, which ride up and down in uncompromising straight lines and
parallels, right over every obstacle which they meet.
The barbaric forcefulness which laid out straight streets sheer over
little mountains, has developed in San Francisco the cable-car system,
which here reigns supreme, tugging everything along with it.
It is no easy matter for a tenderfoot from the East, to ride in such
cars on a first attempt, with either comfort or dignity. On one stretch
you are ascending at a fearful angle, then for a brief space you are on
the level, only to be whirled up or down, as the case may be, in a few
minutes more. When one is sitting sideways, as is usual in street cars,
it requires a certain diffused consciousness to preserve one's
equilibrium, which, those accustomed to the use of seats always on the
level, cannot readily attain. This self-adjustment once reached,
however, and the pivot of permanence properly adjusted, one can proudly
keep one's position like a native, and not flop over one's neighbors at
every change of angle, as one must do, to one's utter confusion, on a
first ride in a San Francisco cable-car on a steep incline.
There were many attractions for me in San Francisco, among friends whom
I had known in days long gone by, in Chicago, Milwaukee, and Racine;
but in our short stay little more could be had than a handshake, a
good-by, and an _au revoir_, which one hoped, that even the three or
four thousand miles soon to intervene, would not render utterly
impossible.
Of course we saw Chinatown. We emerged from the Palace Hotel well on in
the night, and did not return until almost a naughty hour in the
morning; but we all felt well repaid for our trip. I think, though,
really, the best part of it was the feeling of possible danger in the
sights before us; and the spooky appearance of the dark, narrow
streets, into which the moonbeams dropped, revealing to our excited
gaze, gliding or stationary and wretched-looking Chinese, on every
hand. Our guide was a strange specimen, a short, thickset man with a
queer Pennsylvania Dutch dialect, and an Irish name, like Duffy or
McCarthy, I forget which. It was droll beyond measure, to hear his
description of the joss-house given in a sing-song, full of ludicrous
blunders and clipped words. But despite of the comic in our guide, the
joss-house itself was solemn enough, and provocative of thought. It was
strange to see altar before altar, all covered with vases and lamps
alight, and all manner of bronze bowls and incense burners. It was all
so weirdly like what one sees in many Christian churches, and yet with
a difference, for the dragons and monster forms were so strangely
gruesome and grotesque, that it gave one almost an uncomfortable
feeling. What did it all mean? Were we at times unconsciously heathen
in our cults, or are they at times unconsciously Christian? The whole
difficulty was summed up in one monosyllable, which escaped from a
brother clergyman's lips standing near me, and that one word was an
astonished and emphatic "Well!!!"
We are soon aroused from our reverie by the strident tones of our
guide, who, taking his stand near a large stove in one corner,
exclaims: "Now, ladies and gemmen, y' would s'pose that dis yere stove
was for heating this buildin', but it ain't no such thing. 'Tis for
sending things to dead Chinamen. They puts 'em on papers and burns 'em
here, and then they thinks they have 'em." Again he would show us the
accumulated ashes in the incense bowls, and tell us that it was kept to
put under the bodies of the "dead corpses;" and so on, and so on, until
you scarcely knew whether he himself knew or not what he was talking
about. During all this harangue, a pale-faced celestial was seated
behind a sort of counter in one corner, with a countenance bereft of
all expression, except the suspicion thereon of a highbred scorn for us
all, as a gaping crowd being led about among things of which none of us
knew anything. This custodian, or priest, whatever he might have been,
had a kind of jaunty cap on his head, and was comfortably smoking, in
the most earthly manner, a well-flavored cigarette. We bought from him
some joss-sticks as a peace offering, at double prices, and in a grand
manner he bowed us out.
I had asked the guide to draw it mild in his exhibitions, and to omit
all places, so to speak, off color. This he did. We saw a few
restaurants, and a Chinese drug store, where we purchased some strange
medicines which looked more _outre_ and picturesque in their material,
than in any promise of possible effectiveness in their use. Among these
was a dried toad neatly spread out upon wooden splints. This, we were
assured, if boiled into a soup, was an infallible remedy for leanness.
Soup we knew was said to be fattening, but he who would drink such a
concoction as this dried skin would promise, must be deeply enamored of
obesity.
We also saw an opium den. This was horrible enough; but the smoker on
exhibition was not so horrible to me as the still, silent figures,
stowed away on bunks, in the loathsome darkness of the place. The
"John," who was conveniently placed in a lighted place near the
entrance, lay prone on the hard boards of his cubicle, bent flat on his
side like the letter w, clutching his long, villanous-looking pipe in
his hands. Near him was a cat, which we were assured also had
contracted "the habit;" not that it too hit the pipe, but that it
rejoiced in the heavy atmosphere. The impassive smoker, however, burst
into a fit of most intense and humorous laughter, when one of us made
an attempt to pronounce some Chinese phrase which he was repeating for
us. "Now," said our guide, "he is going to take the long draw." By this
time the bit of opium was cooked sufficiently at the cocoanut-oil lamp,
and with cheeks distended and eyes closed he sucked in the smoke, and
exhaled it in a few moments in a large cloud. I had a lighted cigar in
my own hands, and I could not but think that two kindred vices here
confronted each other face to face, and my conscience was a bit
disturbed; but at once reassurance came to me in a sweet female voice,
for one of our ladies said, "Oh, do smoke your cigar; the odor of it is
so refreshing in this dreadful place." All over the bunks and floor
were crawling black insects, large and small. The guide seeing me
shrinking from them said, "Never mind them, they never leave here." By
this time we were glad to depart and get into the purer air of the
moonlit night.
We walked back to our hotel, passing by balconies lit with Chinese
lanterns, restaurants aglow with lights, and numerous Chinese club
houses where the celestials, by cooperation, evade certain prohibitory
enactments, and in the privacy of their associations, enjoy all their
celestial delights.
We also visited a manufacturing jeweller's shop where a lot of
goldsmiths were at work. The whole place had on it the mark of utter
simplicity. The instruments of the craft were primitive, almost rude,
in appearance. Each man was seated before his portion of the work
bench, or at a small table, in the narrowest possible space. An open
dish containing some nut oil, and a bunch of vegetable fibre for wick,
aflame at one end in a tiny light, this, a blowpipe, a few little
files, and some lumps of wax was all; but behind this was a patient
yellow man, capable of quick motion, but never of ignoble hurry, to
whom the present moment was an eternity of time and opportunity, of
which he felt that himself, and all his work, were essential parts.
But, to our infinite amusement, behind all this was a busy little
Chinese woman, who flitted from man to man and bench to bench,
criticising, blaming, encouraging, and urging on everybody, with a
tongue that never ceased, and eyes and motions as alert and rapid as a
humming-bird. Her bright little eyes, her unceasing movement, her
evident control of all, was absolutely exhilarating. Woman rules
everywhere, or could, if she only would.
I must not omit the mention of a glorious trip out across the harbor,
to a watering place full of villa residences, nestled at the water's
edge, close under the towering mountains which encompass the whole
great expanse. The coloring of the place, the forms of the mountains,
and the tints upon the water, all suggest the Mediterranean and other
foreign shores.
In the fragments of the days left us in San Francisco, most agreeable
hours were spent in stores where Chinese and Japanese goods, in great
profusion and splendid taste, were freely open to our view.
An agreeable treat was also given me in a visit to the Bohemian Club,
where, through an introduction from a New York friend, I met some
delightful and hospitable men. In the club were some capital pictures
produced by California artists; among them, a great small painting of
the redwoods seen at night, with a camp-fire in the foreground, most
Rembrandt-like in effect. Another was full of sunshine and life. It was
a group of boys undressing in the blue shade between two yellow sand
dunes by the sea; while out in the ocean surf beyond, in the full
light, were two or three, already in, having the full frolic of their
free pleasure in the blue waters of the Pacific.
But we had yet to see other places, and soon San Francisco was left
behind.