a fair idea of the magnitude and importance of Marshall’s discovery. It
will be of interest to add further that from the time of the discovery
in 1848 to January 1st, 1903, California had produced $1,379,275,408 in
gold. There were two periods of intense excitement, the first ending
in 1854. From 1850 to 1853, the greatest yield from washings was
probably not less than $65,000,000 a year. The average production per
year for the years 1851 to 1854, inclusive, was $75,570,087, reaching
$81,294,270 in 1852; this was the banner year, and from 1850 to 1862
the average production was $55,882,861, never falling below $50,000,000.
The ardent hope that ever lured the plodding miner and the prospector
as well, was that they would come upon some rich deposits of dust, or
a big nugget, that would make them rich at once. Let me quote from
Eldridge’s history: “Some nuggets of surprising size were found in
the early years, the largest recorded being one of one hundred and
forty-one pounds four ounces of almost pure gold, found in 1854. One of
perhaps equal value was found by some Chinamen, who cut it to pieces
with cold chisels, and sold it bit by bit with their gold-dust, fearing
that it would be taken away from them if shown to any one in the shape
in which they found it. A single lump weighing one hundred and six
pounds was found in Baltimore ravine, near Auburn, and another of
one hundred and three pounds, and still another of ninety-six pounds
near Downieville. A seventy-two pound chunk was found near Columbia,
one worth $10,000 at Ophir, in Sutter County; one of fifty pounds on
the Yuba; one of forty-four pounds near Dogtown, Butte County; one
of fifty-one pounds near French ravine, in Sierra County, and one of
eighty pounds from the American River.
“Pieces weighing from ten to forty pounds have been found in many
places, and sometimes in the most casual manner. A farmer strolling
through his pasture on or near the lower Mokelumne River, one Sunday
morning, kicked at what appeared to be a stone lying in his path,
but which proved to be so heavy that he examined it more carefully.
It proved to be a lump of almost pure gold worth several thousand
dollars. Many lucky miners made their fortunes within a few months
after arriving at the mines in 1849 and 1850. Many were more easily
satisfied, and returned east after they had found enough to buy a
farm near the old homestead, or to pay off a mortgage, or start in
some business for which they had long striven. Many lost their health
and even their lives. The number of those who died in their tents or
cabins, or under the open sky, during the fierce struggle of the first
years after the discovery, will never be known.
“Of the thousands that were attracted to the West by the gold
discovery, few, if any, ever thought that gold digging would be a
permanent occupation for them, and so it proved. It was only a stepping
stone to the acquiring of a farm and a home. It took but a few years
to find and pick up all the yellow metal that Nature had so profusely
scattered on or near the surface of California’s lovely valleys and
foothills. That done, large numbers of the gold-seekers remained to
help develop and cultivate her soil that was to produce still greater
riches than the combined efforts of the vast crowd who came to search
her soil for the yellow metal.”
Those who made the trip across the plains usually began the long
journey at Independence or Westport, Missouri, for at that time the
Missouri River was considered the western boundary of all civilization,
and as these gold-hunters launched out on the almost trackless prairies
that lay west of that mighty stream, many considered themselves as
entering a country of peculiar freedom, and it was often said that “law
and morality never crossed the Missouri River.”
Many parties came to this starting place by steamer via the Mississippi
and Missouri rivers. There trains or companies, sometimes consisting
of several hundred people, organized for the trip; this they did for
mutual protection from the Indians. The usual outfit was a stout wagon
with a cover of white canvas or sheeting that was oiled or painted,
stretched over hickory or oak, the same prairie schooner that had
brought thousands to the Middle West.
I have read many books that tell the stories of many parties who
crossed, all of them filled with thrilling incidents of hardships and
heroisms that are almost unbelievable. The book entitled _Death Valley
in ’49_, by William Lewis Manley, is perhaps the most striking, being a
story of personal experiences.
At the age of twenty, W. L. Manley left his father’s home on the
frontiers of civilization, near Jackson, Michigan, that was then, in
1840, still a territory. He was starting in life for himself with seven
dollars in his pocket. He and a companion together bought enough pine
boards with which to build a boat, on which they paddled down Grand
River to the place where the city of Grand Rapids now is. There they
found a schooner, loaded with lumber, about to sail across the lake
to Wisconsin, and for a dollar each they were permitted to cross on
her. They were put ashore at Southport. At that time Wisconsin was
practically a wild waste, but they tramped clear across it to Mineral
Point, arriving there with blistered feet, Manley having thirty-five
cents in his pocket. They found it hard to obtain employment, but
finally did so, receiving the sum of thirteen dollars a month; a little
later he went to work digging lead ore in the summer, and in the winter
hunted fur-bearing animals.
In the spring of 1849 he caught the gold fever, and arranged to go
to California with a man named Bennett, who with his wife and two
children was about to go there. Through a misunderstanding as to the
time of starting, the Bennetts started two weeks before Manley knew
that they had gone. They had taken his outfit with them, thinking that
he would overtake them. This he tried to do, but did not find them for
many months after, when he accidentally met them at Salt Lake City.
At Council Bluffs, he found himself with nothing but the clothes he
wore, an extra shirt, a light gun, a small light tent, a frying-pan,
a tin cup, his mules, but no money. He had come to the conclusion to
return to Michigan, when he met a man named Charles Dallas, from Iowa,
who was preparing to join a train of wagons bound for California.
Dallas offered to feed Manley if he would drive one of his teams clear
through; this he very reluctantly agreed to do.
The train was made up of a number of ox teams; the one Manley drove
consisted of two oxen and two cows. After much hardship and many
hair-breadth escapes, they reached a point near the Mormon settlement
at Salt Lake City, where they found a band of emigrants, camped among
them being Manley’s friends, the Bennetts, from whom he received
his complete outfit just as he had left it with them months before
in Wisconsin. He at once decided to join the Bennetts, and as Mr.
Dallas had decided to stay at Salt Lake City until spring, he had no
compunction in doing so. This other train consisted of one hundred and
seven wagons, with about 500 horses and cattle. The company had a
semblance of military organization, being made up of seven divisions,
each having its own captain, whom they elected; one Captain Hunt was
engaged to act as guide and commander (he called himself Dictator),
acting under rules that had been framed by the whole body. These rules,
it was understood, could be amended by a majority of the whole; each
member was to pay Captain Hunt ten dollars for acting as their pilot.
Hunt was a Mormon, and pretended to know the best routes to California.
It was planned that they should move with military precision, division
number one taking the lead the first day, division number two the
second day, and so on in regular routine.
The route chosen was a new one for a wagon train, though there was a
trail over which the Mormons traveled to their settlement or colony at
San Bernardino, located about sixty miles east of Los Angeles.
A few days after starting, they met with another party of emigrants,
spoken of in the histories as the Smith party, its leader’s name being
Smith. Captain Smith had a map procured at Salt Lake City, from an
engineer named Williams, that showed a route still different from the
one Hunt was taking; this map pretended to show every place on the
route where grass and water could be found. Hunt had no map, and many
of his party who had lost confidence in him, were inclined to go with
the Smith party. There was much discussion on the subject, and finally,
when they reached the place where the two trails diverged, many of the
Hunt party joined Smith’s, among them the Bennetts, and, of course,
Manley. About three days after the breaking up of the Hunt party, the
Smith train discovered that they had made a mistake. They came to a
place beyond which it seemed the wagons could not go. Many in the train
then turned back to go by the Hunt trail, so that the Smith party was
reduced to twenty-seven wagons, among them the Bennetts.
Parties that had been sent out to find a pass shortly returned,
reporting that they had found one, so on the twenty-seven wagons went.
Soon they found a broad, well-defined trail that became known as the
Jay-Hawker’s trail; at this point it ran over rolling hills covered
with juniper trees, and through grassy valleys, with plenty of water,
and all went very well. It was now November.
They plodded on, ever westward, but day after day getting farther away
from game that was now the only source of food for themselves, and from
water and grass so necessary for their animals as well as themselves.
The party to which the Bennetts clung had been reduced to seven wagons,
for dissensions due to difference of opinion had sprung up, so that a
large number had broken away. Each day their supply of food diminished,
so that at last they had to kill one of their steers to keep them
supplied with food.
Manley spent all his time on scouting expeditions, searching for water
and game, climbing to high points on the hills to spy out the land and
decide what route should be taken, using a field glass owned by one of
the party. Out on one of these expeditions, far ahead of the party,
he came upon a dead ox that had fallen by the way. With his knife he
cut into one of its hams and found that, on account of the dryness and
purity of the atmosphere, the meat was fresh and sweet, though probably
dead for many days. He was glad to eat it raw as he walked along.
All around, as far as the eye could reach, was dry desolation, not a
spear of grass, not a drop nor sign of water anywhere. Night came on;
he crept under a projecting rock to try to sleep, being afraid to make
a fire, for he had seen signs of Indians, whom he feared. When he awoke
it was Christmas day. They were now in what a little later came to be
known as Death Valley, because so many of those who entered it never
came out.
One day their eyes were gladdened by the sight of water. It was far
ahead of them, but it gleamed in the sunlight and cheered them on. But
alas! it proved to be salt water. Soon they reached a condition where
it was decided that all the provisions of civilized life should be
pooled, and served only to the women and children and that, as occasion
required, an ox should be killed, the meat dried and served to the men;
every scrap of the ox, the hide and horns excepted, was used for food,
every drop of blood was as precious to them as the grains of gold they
were in search of. Four of the teamsters now decided to take their
share of the provisions, together with their blankets and guns, leave
the party and push on to try to save themselves.
The party crawled along, the oxen hardly able to stand, having had no
food or water for many days, and as far as Manley could see, there was
no prospect of any being found. A solemn council was held, at which it
was agreed that they could only live till the last of their cattle had
been eaten up. It was then agreed that they should turn back to the
place where they had last found a spring of water and grass, and that
there the party should camp, while two of the youngest men, taking some
of the food, should push on till they found a settlement where they
could get help and food, and return as fast as possible; they hoped
that in ten days they might be able to return with the needed relief.
The next morning the oxen were hitched up and started back to the
spring. Shortly after they had started, one of them became so feeble
that he lay down and never rose again, and when they were within two
miles of the spring, another one could travel no further, and also lay
down. Arriving at the spring, they carried water back to him, so that
he recovered and came on to the spring.
Manley and a man named Rodgers, from Tennessee, were selected, and
agreed to undertake the hazardous journey. Preparations were at once
made for their departure; the weakest of the oxen was slaughtered,
and the meat dried; the women made rawhide moccasins and knapsacks,
and packed as much of the dried meat as could be comfortably carried.
Manley and Rodgers started off with the expressed hopes and blessings
of each member of the party.
Manley writes: “I wore no coat or vest, but took half a light blanket,
while Rodgers wore a thin summer coat, and took no blanket; we each had
a small tin cup and a small camp-kettle that held a quart. Bennett had
me take his seven-shooter rifle, and Rodgers had a good double-barreled
shotgun; we each had a sheath-knife, and our hats were small-brimmed
affairs, fitting close to the head, and not very conspicuous to the
enemy, as we might rise up from behind a hill, or a hiding-place, into
view. We tried on our packs and fitted the straps a little, so that
they would carry easy, and started off.”
The party they left in camp consisted of thirteen adults and six
children; there was very little civilized food, the oxen that might be
killed when necessary being their chief reliance.
Manley and Rodgers took a course due west as nearly as the mountains
would permit. Days passed, but they found no water. A big snow-capped
mountain in the distance lured them on, and not till they came within
its influence did they find relief. In order not to miss a possible
chance of finding water, they separated, agreeing on a general course
each would take, and that if either found water he should fire his
gun as a signal. In a little while Rodgers fired his gun, and going
to him, Manley saw that he had found a little ice as thick as window
glass; eagerly they put some of it into their mouths and gathered all
they could. It just filled their quart kettle; this they melted, and
thus saved their lives. They had become so thirsty and their mouths and
tongues became so dry that they could not chew their dried beef; the
saliva would not flow. On they went again; in a few days they found a
well developed trail leading toward the west. This they followed and
came up with a party written of in the histories as the Jay-Hawkers.
They were camped at some water holes where they had killed an ox and
were drying the meat.
From them they received some fresh meat, and were also much refreshed
by the water; they filled their canteens and pressed on, every moment
being precious. When they parted, tears flowed freely from all eyes.
Many of the larger company, being men past middle life, had about
concluded that their chances of surviving the hardships through which
they were passing were rather slim. They gave Manley and Rodgers the
names and addresses of the friends they had left in the old home,
asking them to tell their friends where and how they had found them,
provided that they themselves were fortunate enough to reach a post
office.
Soon after leaving the camp of the Jay-Hawkers, Manley and Rodgers
realized that they had crossed the divide and that every step they
took was down the Pacific slope; soon they began to see signs of life;
a crow came in sight and perched within gunshot, and very promptly he
was shot and bagged in Rodgers’ knapsack. A little later a hawk hove in
sight, and it was very promptly taken care of in the same way; then a
little further along they spied a quail; it also they shot.
Trees began to appear, and stumbling into a narrow ravine and following
it for many miles, it led them to a much larger one, and O joy! there
was a babbling brook of clear, sparkling water that literally sang
them welcome as it wimpled over the stones in its course. They drank
liberally of its life-giving stream, then dressed and cooked their
three birds, and began to feel that life still held something for them.
Soon a broad, grassy meadow opened before them. I will quote Manley’s
words describing this incident.
“Before us was a spur from the hills that reached nearly across the
valley and shut out further sight in that direction, and when we came
to it we climbed up over it to shorten the distance. When the summit
was reached, a most pleasing sight filled our sick hearts with a most
indescribable joy.
“I shall never have the ability to adequately describe the beauty of
the scene as it appeared to us, and so long as I live that landscape
will be impressed on my mind. There before us was a beautiful meadow of
a thousand acres, green as a thick carpet of grass could make it, and
shaded with oaks, wide-branching and symmetrical, equal to those of an
old English park. While all over the low mountains that bordered it on
the south, and over the broad acres of luxuriant grass was a herd of
cattle numbering many hundreds, if not thousands. All seemed happiness
and contentment, and such a scene of abundance and rich plenty and
comfort, bursting thus upon our eyes, which for months had seen only
the desolation and sadness of the desert, was like getting a glimpse of
Paradise, and tears of joy ran down our faces. The day was bright with
sunshine as well as with hope, and it was the first day of January,
1850.”
Not a human being was in sight, and they were very hungry; down in a
deep gully cut out by the rains, a yearling steer was feeding; Manley,
gun in hand, crawled near to him and fired two shots, and as quickly
as possible they were enjoying some of his meat that they roasted at
once. They ate till they were satisfied, the first time in many long,
dreary weeks. They then dried the balance of the meat, one of them
sleeping while the other worked, relieving each other every few hours.
The miserable dried meat that had been so long in their knapsacks they
threw away, and refilled them with this good, fresh meat store.
They also made for themselves moccasins from the hide of the steer, and
then continued their journey, though not very sure that they might not
be pounced on at any moment for shooting the yearling steer. Soon they
came to a strange-looking house of the adobe Mexican type, that proved
to be the home of a farmer. There they found the woman of the house,
but she could not speak or understand a word of English.
They had come out from the Sierra Madre Mountains into the San Fernando
Valley at a point not far from the mission of that name. They went
there and were entertained for the night, sleeping on the floor, but
indoors. Here they met an American, with whom they talked over their
troubles, and concluded, under his advice, that they would save time
by returning to the settler’s house at which they had stopped on the
previous day, and get the provisions they wanted. They might go on to
Los Angeles, some thirty miles away, and fare no better, that place
being very badly demoralized on account of the rush to the gold mines.
Their new found friend agreed to go with them and act as interpreter.
There they procured three horses, a little mule, a sack of beans, a
sack of unbolted flour, and one of wheat, which they would have to
grind themselves; also some dried meat. This food their friends showed
them how to pack on the backs of the horses, and as quickly as possible
they started on the return journey, to try and save the other members
of the party.
About the fourth day out the horses got so worn out and feeble for the
want of food and water that they could hardly crawl along; their heads
flung low, almost touching the ground. They then concluded to bury
the sack of wheat, hoping to find it on their return; this they did,
and loaded the other sacks on the mule, which seemed to be in better
condition.
The next day the ground became so rough and the grade so steep that
the horses were unable to get over it, and had to be abandoned. Then,
too, they found the bodies of two men who had traveled with them in
the Jay-Hawkers’ party. They had died by the side of the trail and had
to be left there. This, of course, was all very disconcerting to our
brave fellows, and only the thought that many other lives depended on
their efforts urged them on.
At last, on the twenty-sixth day after leaving their friends camped
at the spring, they were again in its vicinity. Their first sight or
sign of their fellow-travelers was to find the dead body of one of
them--Captain Culverwell--lying on the trail. He lay on his back, his
arms extended, his little canteen, made of two powder flasks, lying
by his side. Manley writes: “This looked, indeed, as if some of our
saddest forebodings were coming true. How many more bodies should we
find?--or should we find the camp deserted, and never find a trace of
the former occupants?
“We marched toward camp like two Indians, silent and alert, looking out
for dead bodies and live Indians, for really we expected to find the
camp devastated by those rascals, rather than to find that it still
contained our friends. About noon we came in sight of the wagons, still
a long way off, but in the clear air we could make them out.
“No signs of life were anywhere about, and the thought of our hard
struggles between life and death, to go out and return with the
fruitless results that now seemed apparent, was almost more than human
heart could bear. When should we know their fate? Where should we find
their remains, and how learn their sad history, if we ourselves should
live to get back again to settlements and life? If ever two men were
troubled, Rodgers and I surely passed through the furnace. One hundred
yards to the wagons, and still no sign of life; we fear that perhaps
there are Indians in ambush, and with nervous, irregular breathing, we
counsel what to do. Finally Rodgers suggested that he had two charges
in his shotgun, and I seven in the Colts rifle, and that I fire one of
mine and await results before we ventured any nearer. I fired, and in
a moment a man came from under one of the wagons and stood up. Then he
threw up his arms and shouted, ‘The boys have come!’ Then other bare
heads appeared, and Mr. Bennett and wife and Mr. Arcane came running
toward us. They caught us in their arms and embraced us with all their
strength. Mrs. Bennett fell on her knees and clung to me like a maniac
in the great emotion that came to her, and not a word was spoken.”
They estimated that they had traveled five hundred miles since they
had left the camp, and found on their return that the party had been
reduced till only Mr. and Mrs. Bennett and their four children and Mr.
and Mrs. Arcane and their boy remained; the others had pressed forward
from time to time to try to escape from the desert. Immediately they
began to prepare for the long journey. There were five oxen still left.
It was at once decided that everything should be left behind, only
things absolutely necessary for the sustaining of life to be taken
along--a kettle, a tin cup for each, a few knives, forks and spoons,
and all the blankets and the clothes they wore. It was planned that
the two women should each ride on an ox; though they had never known
or heard of such a thing being done, they thought it practicable. The
cloth in the wagon covers and in bed ticks was made into harness, the
blankets being used for saddles, and one of the oxen, old Crump, the
gentlest of them, was rigged out with saddle bags made from two of the
men’s hickory shirts, in which the two youngest children were to be
carried; the older ones were to ride like the women. Manley and Rodgers
made new moccasins for themselves, and in a very few days they were
ready to start.