tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-54908910626835043962024-03-17T13:44:48.546-07:00DREAMING CASUALLY (Investigative Blog) by J'aime RubioA step back in time to explore stories and mysteries of the past. J'aime Rubio, Authorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00087085042404097820noreply@blogger.comBlogger131125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5490891062683504396.post-81462241072389755542024-03-17T13:04:00.000-07:002024-03-17T13:44:17.592-07:00Main Street Melee -- The Death of Lewis A. Collier (Amador & Calaveras County History)<p><br /></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZ5-XmWenrCoLP6NqiF6e2DQx9kqMb_5_p02YALTRg0GpucQKpq86b4QrXmyH6wcbIjGl9-T_zTgDdZ8YVohkYLXT5Nn-_SsPcVgbNSeZDg8D_H8YN0TC0MeEnmM6nTfphnnMyxnMSfzqcWGBgXtw6O5ow8rb5fvNPYBLsB1xZbNiu-4QWxWAAd_Ah5uI/s792/SRP18510917.1.3-77-3517-792-279-792w.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="279" data-original-width="792" height="205" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZ5-XmWenrCoLP6NqiF6e2DQx9kqMb_5_p02YALTRg0GpucQKpq86b4QrXmyH6wcbIjGl9-T_zTgDdZ8YVohkYLXT5Nn-_SsPcVgbNSeZDg8D_H8YN0TC0MeEnmM6nTfphnnMyxnMSfzqcWGBgXtw6O5ow8rb5fvNPYBLsB1xZbNiu-4QWxWAAd_Ah5uI/w582-h205/SRP18510917.1.3-77-3517-792-279-792w.jpg" width="582" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">San Joaquin Republican, 9/17/1851</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><p>Most people don't realize that Amador County originally was part of Calaveras County. Needless to say, there was contraversy about where the County Seat would be initially from its inception. According to the book, "A History of Amador County," by Jesse D. Mason, the County of Calaveras was <i>"organized in the session of the Legislature, in 1849-50. It is said that it took its name from an immense number of skulls found on that river.......the county took its name from the river."</i></p><p>William Fowle Smith was the County Judge; Colonel Lewis A. Collier was the County Clerk; John Hanson was the Sheriff, A.B. Mudge was the Treasurer; and H.A. Carter was the Prosecuting Attorney. These men basically made up the local government of early Calaveras County. At that time Double Springs was chosen as the County Seat. </p><p>According to an 1849 edition of the Placer Times, there were advertisements for the sale of <i>"four wooden houses, 12x24 feet, two rooms each,"</i> on their way from China, on a schooner by the name of Petrol. It has been assumed these houses were for Double Springs; However, there are historians who disagree and claim that three houses, not four, were actually purchased at Sam Brannan's Sacramento store, which was located in present day "Old Sacramento." </p><p>By 1850, the three houses were erected as one large building which were used as a Courthouse, small living spaces for the government officials, and of course, a saloon. Driving by Double Springs today, you will only see a roadside marker that states you are driving through an historic spot. Little is left of any trace of Calaveras County's first County Seat. </p><p>Moving along, by April 26th of 1851, there was a Democratic County Convention held at Double Springs, organizing the Democratic Party of the County. Judge Smith was elected President and Col. Collier was elected Secretary. There were many named in the San Joaquin Republican, listing just who would be the committee members and that they were <i>"appointing committees of three in each judicial district, to act as town committees and to report to the county committee from time to time, as the interest of the Democratic party shall seem to require." </i></p><p>With Smith and Collier having to work together on this committee besides their regular work for the County, it is quite possible that they both got on each others nerves, or worse.</p><p>Later, there was an election to change the county seat to Mokelumne Hill, while others wanted Jackson's Creek (present day Jackson). This was where things turned for the worse between Smith and Collier.</p><p>In Larry Cenotto's book, Logan's Alley (Volume IV) he briefly mentions this story on page 7, stating that <i>"voting shenanigans"</i> had taken place which led up to the story I am about to share with you.</p><p>Going back to the History of Amador County, Jesse D. Mason brought up that: </p><p><i>"When the first count or estimate was made up, Mokelumne Hill was said to have been the successful town and a team was sent to Double Springs to remove the archives; but a subsequent count by Judge Smith made Jackson the county seat. Smith was openly charged with fraud in the second counting. The whole affair was probably as near a farce as elections ever get to be. The seat however remained at Jackson until 1852, when it was transferred by election to Mokelumne</i><i> Hill."</i></p><p>This was the first time Collier and Smith butted heads over the election results. From July of 1851 to May of 1862, the County Seat was in Jackson.</p><p>In regards to the personalities of Smith and Collier, Mason also notes:</p><p><i>"Very contradictory reports are current in regard to the characters of the officers. "Fowle Smith," an eastern man, was represented by some as a miserable concentration of all meanness that was supposed to characterize that kind of men; stinginess, cowardice, and "all that sort of thing." Others say that he was honest, and would not countenance Colonel Collyer's peccadillos, hence, their mutual dislike. He has since taken to preaching, and is said to be causing great revivals ins ome of the Eastern States.</i></p><p><i>Colonel Collyer, according to the same authority, was a southern man, with southern virtues in exess; pompous, portly, genial, brave, and reckless, with a habit of calling everybody, who crossed his will, a "d---d son of a -----" and threatened to cut his heart out; a treatment be had applied to Judge Smith, until the latter was seriously afraid the Colonel was in earnest. Among the peculiarities of Collyer, was the pocketing of all fees received in his official capacity, leaving Judge Smith to collect his salary, or extras, as he might.</i></p><p><i>Collyer is said to have naturalized sixty foreigners in one day, charging them one ounce each, all of which he applied to his own benefit. "---</i></p><p>So, what was this incident that happened on Main Street in September of 1851?</p><p>The details on the exact date that it occurred are sketchy at best. Some newspapers claimed the event took place on September 11th, 1851, which would have been a Thursday, while some say Monday, which would have been the 15th, but I am obliged to believe the other two newspapers which stated that it was Saturday, September 13th when the event took place. </p><p>Judge Smith had been in Sacramento on County business and arrived in Jackson to collect the return of votes that were cast in their latest election, one of which determined the possible re-election of Col. Collier as County Clerk against Joseph P. Douglass who was also running for the position of County Clerk. According to this account, Judge Smith came on that date, being that the 10 days that were allotted to collect the votes had expired and the votes were past due for counting. </p><p>Smith arrived at the clerks office at around 9 o'clock in the evening. So where was the clerk's office?</p><p>You must remember, at this time Jackson didn't have a courthouse or regular offices as we did later on. The Calaveras County Court of Sessions or supervisors were held in the French Hotel which was located where present day 105 Main Street is located, on the westerly side of Main Street where the "Main Event Bar" is today. It appears that the clerk's office would have been adjacent to the Frech Hotel. You have to remember, our courthouses and government offices for Amador County hadn't even been built yet, because we were still part of Calaveras County at the time. The old jail site, which was a small log cabin, was actually located on or around where present day 16-18 Court Street is located.</p><p>When Judge Smith got there he was met by Judge Williams, who said that he was in charge of that office and Collier was not there. Smith told Williams he would go "canvassing" for votes but it had to be done before midnight. Judge Smith and J.T. Powell and Deputy Sheriffy Chovan canvassed for less than an hour, also looking for Collier to no avail. So they returned to Collier's office. Chovan and Powell saw that no one was there, so Smith sent for them to look for Judge Williams to open the office so Smith could collect the voting returns.</p><p>Around 10 p.m., Judge Smith broke into the office on his own to search for the returns himself. This is when Chovan and Powell came back and found Smith inside the office. Smith then orders the two men to help him search for the returns, which they did reluctantly. According to the newspapers of the time, they claimed that Smith found nothing. Smith then handed Powell a paper to file with the court and he left the office empty handed.</p><p>Jesse D. Mason's account written in 1881, stated that Smith broke into Collier's desk, counted the returns and issued the certificates of election to the successful candidate, Joseph P. Douglass, who, according to Mason's account, received the larger number of votes. According to this account, it was Collier who was in the wrong, hiding the votes to prevent the results showing that he had lost the election to Douglass.</p><p>A little after Midnight, Collier finally returned to the clerk's office to find out from Powell and Chovan that Smith had broken into it. He became infuriated, and Powell stated that Collier even drew a pistol on him for telling him the story, forcing Powell to arrest him. As Collier was being taken to jail, he swore he would shoot Judge Smith "upon sight."</p><p>It appears that Collier was released in the morning, and once Judge Smith and Powell were going about their daily activities, Powell <i>"proposed a walk with Judge Smith, and he first declined upon the ground that the route suggested would lead them past the clerk's office, that he was courting a collision, but finding that the clerk's office was closed he consented to go."</i></p><p>As the newspaper accounts go, as they were walking by the office, Collier walked up on them and started screaming obsenities to Smith. Collier claimed he was going to let the world know what a <i>"dead villain" </i>Judge Smith was. After this first confrontation, Smith started to walk back towards his hotel. This was when Collier came back on his horse, with a revolver on his waist, and as he dismounted and was tieing his horse up to the hotel, he started to scream at Smith again. </p><p>When Collier approached him, Smith <i>"threw up his hand and said "Col. Collier, I don't want you to come near me; stand back, sir, and let me alone." Collier however, advanced and struck the Judge a severe blow in his face, whereupon Smith drew a small revolver from his pants pocket and fired at Collier, wounding him in the right arm, piercing his body between the liver and kidneys, and wounding him also in the left shoulder. Collier did not have time to draw his pistol, and Judge Smith, in extricating his from his pants' pocket had one barrel discharge itself through his pocket. Col. Collier died about 12 o'clock on Monday last."</i></p><p>Smith was arrested, and some accounts said he turned himself in immediately. He was then taken before Judge Bayrington, but requested Judge Williams to oversee this case, and requested his counsel, Captain Ward for legal defense. Judge Smith was tried for Col. Lewis A. Collier's death on September 17, 1851. On September 23, 1851, Judge William Fowle Smith was acquitted of all charges as the jury returned a verdict of <i>"justifiable homicide"</i> given the circumstances of the case.</p><p>After looking over all of the particulars surrounding this case, I see that there was election tampering, and it appears that it may have been occurring on both sides. Being that Smith was openly accused of fraud in the previous election in 1850 determining the county seat situation, shows he was capable of doing it again; However, the fact that Collier hadn't turned in the votes in time, possibly to collect more votes in his favor, and it also appears he was hiding the collected votes to prevent revealing the actual results, was also illegal.</p><p>Both men's personalities clashed like oil and vinegar according to the previous accounts mentioned, so it is not hard to see that there was likely to be a bad skirmish between the two at one point or another. Sadly, though this one ended with one person dead, all because of election results. </p><p>Do I think that Judge Smith should have been put in prison for Collier's death? No, I do not. Collier was a hot head, and even if Smith had done something wrong, Collier knew the law, and he went after the Judge with the intent to kill him, and ended up being the one dead himself. </p><p>According to Jesse D. Mason, by the time he was writing his book on the history of the county, and claimed that Smith had<i> "taken to to preaching, and is said to be causing great revivals in some of the Eastern states."</i> Did Judge Smith have a change of heart, and left politics? It is quite possible, however, I found a W.F. Smith in Alameda in the 1860 census listed as a Lawyer, so it is possible that he just moved away. </p><p>In 1851, California was still very much living in the "Wild West," and many times, simple disagreements ended up in horrible stabbings, attacks and even duels. Remember the infamous duel of Judge David S. Terry and Senator Broaderick? What about the unfortunate murder of Judge Gordon Belt on the streets of Stockton? There are so many, I cannot even begint to list them all. </p><p>With that being said, I do not believe Col. Lewis A. Collier was an innocent victim in this affair. His hot temper ultimately sealed his own fate. Documented accounts show that both of these local politicans were crooked in their own ways. Smith, having committed fraud in an election, while Collier collected fees for various reasons during his time as County Clerk only to pocket the money himself, and more than likely he was trying to hide the election results himself. It seems to me that both men were not on the up-and-up when this unfortunate incident occurred. A lesson to be learned that politics can literally kill, and that election fraud and tampering has been going as long as elections have been around. It sure goes to show that some things never change!</p><p>(Copyright 2024, J'aime Rubio www.jaimerubiowriter.com)</p><p>Sources available upon request. </p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p>J'aime Rubio, Authorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00087085042404097820noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5490891062683504396.post-40568659638508878422024-03-08T22:13:00.000-08:002024-03-08T22:21:01.307-08:00Horrific assault prompts suicide at old Amador County Courthouse <p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtm1fjJKT8i6ao-AQb2IX5t7AYP3ApnC3RRsTVcwstKkWt4uGGZorhFMWMXVRYpL7B3WIY9tnA98L3oXVtGU_ek6VBsPylM-kbGa2xgqhGIYtNvnkhDtZ7lcSIBXffQyFLBKSmPP8KDAzKqgZnxW8ie0IcB9o4lcry0bo5bC3GQx7CZYH86ud2mrTF2y0/s1361/Screenshot%202024-03-08%20220052.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="873" data-original-width="1361" height="288" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtm1fjJKT8i6ao-AQb2IX5t7AYP3ApnC3RRsTVcwstKkWt4uGGZorhFMWMXVRYpL7B3WIY9tnA98L3oXVtGU_ek6VBsPylM-kbGa2xgqhGIYtNvnkhDtZ7lcSIBXffQyFLBKSmPP8KDAzKqgZnxW8ie0IcB9o4lcry0bo5bC3GQx7CZYH86ud2mrTF2y0/w451-h288/Screenshot%202024-03-08%20220052.png" width="451" /></a></div><br /><p>For several months there has been talk of paranormal tours taking place at the old courthouse in Jackson. For the record, I am not a part of any sort of paranormal tour at this location, but it came to my attention that some of the history being discussed on said tours was not accurate, and it bothered me that erroneous history was being shared. </p><p>Thankfully, one of the persons involved in the tours has reached out to me and seems sincere about revising her tour to depict a more accurate telling of the courthouse's history. However, there are still a few people out there, who are also advertising paranormal tours, whom I worry may continue to share inaccurate information not only regarding the history of the courthouse but also around Jackson itself. This is worrisome to me, because I actually care about the true history of this beautiful area and I am a firm believer in facts. Please remember, anything you read online or hear from another person regarding local history, I strongly urge you to take with a grain of salt unless they can back their story up with documented facts to suppor their story. I am a huge believer in facts, not sensationalism. Why create fictitious stories about our beloved historical landmarks when these locations have plenty of real history all on its own?</p><p>I had planned on sharing this story solely in my upcoming book, <i><b>"Stories of the Forgotten III: Tales of the Mother Lode,"</b></i> but given the fact the old county courthouse has been the focus of many posts lately on Facebook and other social media platforms lately, I decided to share my research on a factual story that did take place there, and I can back up my story with sources.</p><p>On Monday, February 22, 1909, a man by the name Joseph Coholich committed a very heinous crime. Now, the newspapers reported his last name as Chahalich or sometimes Chachalich, and even his Find-a-Grave memorial spelled his name as Choalich, but his death record in the California Death Index was recorded as Coholich.</p><p>Per the Amador Dispatch, dated February 26, 1909:</p><p><i>"Early in the afternoon of Monday a horseman, greatly excited rode into town and notified Sheriff Gregory that Mrs. Lintillac had been shot by Chahalich. Gregory and Leverone immediated started for the Lintillac place. Upon their arrival there they found Chahalich gone and questioned the woman, learning from her the following particulars: Mrs. Lintillac shortly after dinner, was hanging out clothes near the house, and Chahalich, who had worked about the place, approached her carrying a shot-gun and demanded of her $25.50 which he claimed was coming to him for wages.</i></p><p><i>She replied they did not owe him that much as he had not worked for a time during the rainy weather, and also that he was indebted to them for baord in the sum of $20, besides $2 for brandyl that all he had coming was $7, and told him he had better see her husband about it. Chahalich, who was standing about six feet from the woman, raised his gun and shot her in the legs twice."</i></p><p>The article, which is lengthy, goes on to state that the Sheriff went on to the Campanola's cabin where the suspect had been known to stop by for the past two weeks. The authorities found the shot-gun and a blue short that the suspect had been wearing, and so they knew he had stopped there before moving on. When questioned, Campanola denied any knowledfge of the situation. It was ascertained that Joseph Coholich had walked across Campanola's property, through the fields approximately seven miles, all the way westward to Jackson, avoiding roadways.</p><p>By the time Joseph Coholich reached Jackson, he made the steep trek up Summit Street to the old Courthouse. According to testimony by eye-witness Thomas Lemin, Coholich was walking back and forth in front of the courthouse at about 5 p.m. that evening. The two men struck up a conversation, as Coholich sat down on the steps and began eating an orange. Shortly thereafter, Coholich belted out a painful groan and fell backwards into convulsions. When the onlooker tried to help him, he shook his head and stated that it was "too late." Still, two doctors arrived to the scene, Dr. Sprague and Dr. Gall, who both realized that he had been poisoned. They moved Coholich to the courtyard of the jail, and he expired within about 10 minutes. </p><p>When the body was searched, they found a vial of strychnine in his pocket and about 25 grains were missing. They believed he had put the poison in the orange that he ate, committing suicide instead of facing the legal consequences for his actions. Joseph Coholich had no family in the states, and it was assumed his wife was still home in the "old country." The newspapers stated that he was originally from Austria, yet his Find-a-Grave states he was from Italy. It is obvious that he may have been from Austria, having travelled to the U.S. by way of Italy, but by the spelling or pronunciation of his name it is obvious he was of Serbian or Croation descent. </p><p>Joseph Coholich was buried without a marker in the Jackson City Cemetery just next door to the Catholic Cemetery. </p><p>While continuing my research, I discovered that Mrs. Lucie Lintellac was forced to have her limbs amputated due to her grave injuries; one limb being amputated just below the knee, while the other just at the ankle bone. Sadly, it appears that her wounds never healed properly that her health continued to decline. As of the March 12, Amador Ledger, her funeral notice appeared. Although the newspapers stated she was buried in St. Patrick's Catholic Cemetery, I have been unable to locate her gravesite as of yet. I am still avidly searching for that piece of the puzzle, as I would really like to pay my respects to this innocent victim of this very wicked assault.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhIzgnHjH_cmxC1OVF5hL4GePC5_x10_BImmuv3Tfa_TAHYK0UkObLINT9-q56P61AVUdNeGFUUsLR6mHL7gGr_PlQlohv7rcICCcSWwiFS1q6M7-RApceEzXN99-YO8-Yr-6hdQ4Zdg5ZT_tVngx7wqV5azSSAHBW4I9YJptIL2WpN7BH_rXbv_ff3cc/s1079/Month%20MARCH%20Issue%20Date%20MARCH%2012%201909%20page%208.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1079" data-original-width="911" height="385" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhIzgnHjH_cmxC1OVF5hL4GePC5_x10_BImmuv3Tfa_TAHYK0UkObLINT9-q56P61AVUdNeGFUUsLR6mHL7gGr_PlQlohv7rcICCcSWwiFS1q6M7-RApceEzXN99-YO8-Yr-6hdQ4Zdg5ZT_tVngx7wqV5azSSAHBW4I9YJptIL2WpN7BH_rXbv_ff3cc/w325-h385/Month%20MARCH%20Issue%20Date%20MARCH%2012%201909%20page%208.jpg" width="325" /></a></div><p>In my line of work, I stumble upon some of the saddest stories. I share them for one reason, so that their names and their lives will not be forgotten. Mrs. Lintellac, and even Joseph for that matter, have been forgotten in the pages of archived newspapers and old dusty death indexes that have been shelved for over a 100 years. My effort is to bring back those people's stories, to give them back a voice. To share their story for them, since they obviously can no longer share it on their own. </p><p>I hope that although this history was a bit dark, and unfortunately did not have a happy ending, that you can appreciate it is still a part of local history, nonetheless. Thank you for taking the time to read this and to remember the stories of the forgotten." (J'aime Rubio, Copyright 2024)</p><p>Some of my sources: California Death Index, Amador Ledger, 3/12/1909; Amador Dispatch, 2/26/1909; Bluelake Advocate, 2/27/1909; Stockton Independent, 2/23/1909; Union Democrat, 2/27/1909; San Francsico Call, 2/23/1909. </p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p>J'aime Rubio, Authorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00087085042404097820noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5490891062683504396.post-33089077396494421512024-02-05T18:58:00.000-08:002024-02-05T19:02:56.902-08:00Historic Roseville slaying offers insights to ‘cursed’ family<p> </p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSE5jAt8fwnp5UBsz17V_coL3t28MPP4FlC5KTO8SVjJOH-P-2lqep4hVR_H_0Rt9wTQMhTU-603vxwiECU7ljGfI3q3hyphenhyphenIN-fexoMsDLHz54S3SiXnzIIElp_aiNmsHUlDqOn-lM9ETLL9ySC9lb5nekFhyphenhyphenbbTHgeXNHb31jL9fhhinfQDVMVRVbOQg0/s882/Screenshot%202024-02-05%20185645.png" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="534" data-original-width="882" height="263" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSE5jAt8fwnp5UBsz17V_coL3t28MPP4FlC5KTO8SVjJOH-P-2lqep4hVR_H_0Rt9wTQMhTU-603vxwiECU7ljGfI3q3hyphenhyphenIN-fexoMsDLHz54S3SiXnzIIElp_aiNmsHUlDqOn-lM9ETLL9ySC9lb5nekFhyphenhyphenbbTHgeXNHb31jL9fhhinfQDVMVRVbOQg0/w433-h263/Screenshot%202024-02-05%20185645.png" width="433" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><h1 class="h6 mb-0" style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #2d2d2d; font-family: "helvetica neue", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 1rem; font-weight: 500; line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">Los Angeles Herald</h1><p class="mb-0 small" style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #2d2d2d; font-family: "helvetica neue", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 0.875em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">26 Feb 1876</p></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="color: #222222; font-family: "Lucida Sans Unicode"; font-size: 12pt;">Do you believe that death and tragedy seem to follow certain people?</span><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; mso-pagination: none;"><span lang="en-US" style="color: #222222; font-family: "Lucida Sans Unicode"; font-size: 12pt; language: en-US; mso-ansi-language: en-US; mso-ascii-font-family: "Lucida Sans Unicode"; mso-currency-font-family: "Lucida Sans Unicode"; mso-cyrillic-font-family: "Lucida Sans Unicode"; mso-default-font-family: "Lucida Sans Unicode"; mso-greek-font-family: "Lucida Sans Unicode"; mso-hebrew-font-family: "Lucida Sans Unicode"; mso-latin-font-family: "Lucida Sans Unicode"; mso-latinext-font-family: "Lucida Sans Unicode"; mso-ligatures: none; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #222222; mso-style-textfill-type: solid;">In the case of David Turley, they indeed seemed to follow him, leading him straight to the gallows. The question for modern history lovers is, why?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was April 1, 1875, and a group of men were headed back to Roseville on horseback, returning from a race at a ranch several miles beyond the city limits.</span><span style="color: #222222; font-family: "Lucida Sans Unicode"; font-size: 12pt;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; mso-pagination: none;"><span lang="en-US" style="color: #222222; font-family: "Lucida Sans Unicode"; font-size: 12pt; language: en-US; mso-ansi-language: en-US; mso-ascii-font-family: "Lucida Sans Unicode"; mso-currency-font-family: "Lucida Sans Unicode"; mso-cyrillic-font-family: "Lucida Sans Unicode"; mso-default-font-family: "Lucida Sans Unicode"; mso-greek-font-family: "Lucida Sans Unicode"; mso-hebrew-font-family: "Lucida Sans Unicode"; mso-latin-font-family: "Lucida Sans Unicode"; mso-latinext-font-family: "Lucida Sans Unicode"; mso-ligatures: none; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #222222; mso-style-textfill-type: solid;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Among the group was William H. Shaw and David Turley. Several newspapers reported both men, who worked in Roseville as Sheepshearers, were intoxicated when they started to quarrel nearby the 12 Mile House, once located at South Cirby and Old Auburn Road. Other newspapers claimed the incident took place on Old Marysville Road, 12 miles from Roseville. Today, it is hard to be certain of the exact location.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; mso-pagination: none;"><span lang="en-US" style="color: #222222; font-family: "Lucida Sans Unicode"; font-size: 12pt;">What words were exchanged still remains a mystery. Some accounts even suggested that it was an April Fools’ joke gone wrong. Whatever was said, it prompted Turley to challenge Shaw to a duel — a threat designed to make the other take back whatever negative remark was said. Shaw refused to duel Turley and tried to get away from him. Turley pulled his pistol out and fired two shots in Shaw’s direction, hitting and killing him. </span><span style="color: #222222; font-family: "Lucida Sans Unicode"; font-size: 12pt;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; mso-pagination: none;"><span lang="en-US" style="color: #222222; font-family: "Lucida Sans Unicode"; font-size: 12pt; language: en-US; mso-ansi-language: en-US; mso-ascii-font-family: "Lucida Sans Unicode"; mso-currency-font-family: "Lucida Sans Unicode"; mso-cyrillic-font-family: "Lucida Sans Unicode"; mso-default-font-family: "Lucida Sans Unicode"; mso-greek-font-family: "Lucida Sans Unicode"; mso-hebrew-font-family: "Lucida Sans Unicode"; mso-latin-font-family: "Lucida Sans Unicode"; mso-latinext-font-family: "Lucida Sans Unicode"; mso-ligatures: none; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #222222; mso-style-textfill-type: solid;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>The trial was held in Sacramento and became highly publicized, making headlines in papers all the way to Los Angeles. One of the witnesses, Creed Haymond, stated for the defense that Turley was too intoxicated to have known what he was doing, therefore he believed it wasn’t his fault. The other four witnesses together confirmed that Turley did in fact shoot Shaw as he was attempting to leave.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; mso-pagination: none;"><span lang="en-US" style="color: #222222; font-family: "Lucida Sans Unicode"; font-size: 12pt; language: en-US; mso-ansi-language: en-US; mso-ascii-font-family: "Lucida Sans Unicode"; mso-currency-font-family: "Lucida Sans Unicode"; mso-cyrillic-font-family: "Lucida Sans Unicode"; mso-default-font-family: "Lucida Sans Unicode"; mso-greek-font-family: "Lucida Sans Unicode"; mso-hebrew-font-family: "Lucida Sans Unicode"; mso-latin-font-family: "Lucida Sans Unicode"; mso-latinext-font-family: "Lucida Sans Unicode"; mso-ligatures: none; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #222222; mso-style-textfill-type: solid;">Turley insisted that his actions were caused by an inherited mental illness. He also claimed that this inherited psychosis contributed to many deaths in his family; however, Judge Ramage did not allow this information in the trial. When all was said and done the jury found Turley guilty of murdering Shaw. The defendant eventually took his appeal to the Supreme Court, alleging errors were made during his trial. The Supreme Court came back unanimously on November 16, 1875, deciding that the initial court ruling was correct, and that Turley’s conviction would remain the same.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: "Lucida Sans Unicode"; font-size: 12pt;">So was the story Turley claimed about his family true, or just a desperate attempt to spare his own life?</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: "Lucida Sans Unicode"; font-size: 12pt;">Extensive research into the matter reveals that David Turley’s tragic family background was stranger than most would imagine. His father, Jesse Turley, was a wealthy and well respected farmer. According to Missouri historian Rhonda Chalfant, Jesse Turley was the first landowner in the Pettis County to free his slaves due to his support for the Union during the Civil War, prompting his own neighbors to engage in two attempts to murder him. Both times he was shot and survived. Sadly though, Jesse Turley’s life ended at his own hand, after his own gun discharged by accident while he was mounting his horse during a stint in the Missouri State Militia. He was hit in the abdomen and died shortly thereafter.</span><span style="color: #222222; font-family: "Lucida Sans Unicode"; font-size: 12pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; mso-pagination: none;"><span lang="en-US" style="color: #222222; font-family: "Lucida Sans Unicode"; font-size: 12pt; language: en-US; mso-ansi-language: en-US; mso-ascii-font-family: "Lucida Sans Unicode"; mso-currency-font-family: "Lucida Sans Unicode"; mso-cyrillic-font-family: "Lucida Sans Unicode"; mso-default-font-family: "Lucida Sans Unicode"; mso-greek-font-family: "Lucida Sans Unicode"; mso-hebrew-font-family: "Lucida Sans Unicode"; mso-latin-font-family: "Lucida Sans Unicode"; mso-latinext-font-family: "Lucida Sans Unicode"; mso-ligatures: none; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #222222; mso-style-textfill-type: solid;"> David Turley’s mother, Lucy, was also killed by an accidental bullet — shot by one of her other sons, William, while he was sleepwalking with his gun. Like David Turley, William Turley was also in the state militia, and was never the same after killing their mother. William was later done in during a raid in the Civil War involving Confederate General Joseph Shelby. One of David Turley’s sisters had a stroke, rendering her brain damaged for life, while his other sister couldn’t handle the bizarre death of their mother, and literally went insane. She also died in a relatively short period. A third brother, John Turley, was killed in Kansas around 1875, while a fourth brother, Thomas, was shot in Texas the same year.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; mso-pagination: none;"><span lang="en-US" style="color: #222222; font-family: "Lucida Sans Unicode"; font-size: 12pt; language: en-US; mso-ansi-language: en-US; mso-ascii-font-family: "Lucida Sans Unicode"; mso-currency-font-family: "Lucida Sans Unicode"; mso-cyrillic-font-family: "Lucida Sans Unicode"; mso-default-font-family: "Lucida Sans Unicode"; mso-greek-font-family: "Lucida Sans Unicode"; mso-hebrew-font-family: "Lucida Sans Unicode"; mso-latin-font-family: "Lucida Sans Unicode"; mso-latinext-font-family: "Lucida Sans Unicode"; mso-ligatures: none; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #222222; mso-style-textfill-type: solid;">
</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="en-US"> <o:p></o:p></span><span lang="en-US" style="color: #222222; font-family: "Lucida Sans Unicode"; font-size: 12pt;">David Turley had left Missouri to California in 1857 after getting into some sort of “trouble.” Following his father’s death, he inherited a large amount of money and so he moved back to Missouri. He opened a saloon in Georgetown and moved in with a well-known woman of ill-repute. David’s surviving brother, James, had tried to convince a doctor to have him committed to an asylum at Fulton due to erratic behavior. The Sedalia Bazoo Newspaper stated that besides being his own best customer at his saloon, David Turley was known to get into fights at the drop of a hat and quick to draw his blade or his gun — often times shooting at people for </span><span lang="en-US" style="color: #222222; font-family: "Lucida Sans Unicode"; font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic;">“imaginary offenses.”</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; mso-pagination: none;"><span lang="en-US" style="color: #222222; font-family: "Lucida Sans Unicode"; font-size: 12pt; language: en-US; mso-ansi-language: en-US; mso-ascii-font-family: "Lucida Sans Unicode"; mso-currency-font-family: "Lucida Sans Unicode"; mso-cyrillic-font-family: "Lucida Sans Unicode"; mso-default-font-family: "Lucida Sans Unicode"; mso-greek-font-family: "Lucida Sans Unicode"; mso-hebrew-font-family: "Lucida Sans Unicode"; mso-latin-font-family: "Lucida Sans Unicode"; mso-latinext-font-family: "Lucida Sans Unicode"; mso-ligatures: none; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #222222; mso-style-textfill-type: solid;">It was after getting into too much trouble in Georgetown that David decided to head back to California.</span><span style="color: #222222; font-family: "Lucida Sans Unicode"; font-size: 12pt;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; mso-pagination: none;"><span lang="en-US" style="color: #222222; font-family: "Lucida Sans Unicode"; font-size: 12pt; language: en-US; mso-ansi-language: en-US; mso-ascii-font-family: "Lucida Sans Unicode"; mso-currency-font-family: "Lucida Sans Unicode"; mso-cyrillic-font-family: "Lucida Sans Unicode"; mso-default-font-family: "Lucida Sans Unicode"; mso-greek-font-family: "Lucida Sans Unicode"; mso-hebrew-font-family: "Lucida Sans Unicode"; mso-latin-font-family: "Lucida Sans Unicode"; mso-latinext-font-family: "Lucida Sans Unicode"; mso-ligatures: none; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #222222; mso-style-textfill-type: solid;"> James Turley, a.k.a. </span><span lang="en-US" style="color: #222222; font-family: "Lucida Sans Unicode"; font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; language: en-US; mso-ansi-language: en-US; mso-ascii-font-family: "Lucida Sans Unicode"; mso-currency-font-family: "Lucida Sans Unicode"; mso-cyrillic-font-family: "Lucida Sans Unicode"; mso-default-font-family: "Lucida Sans Unicode"; mso-greek-font-family: "Lucida Sans Unicode"; mso-hebrew-font-family: "Lucida Sans Unicode"; mso-latin-font-family: "Lucida Sans Unicode"; mso-latinext-font-family: "Lucida Sans Unicode"; mso-ligatures: none; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #222222; mso-style-textfill-type: solid;">“Sedalia Jim,” </span><span lang="en-US" style="color: #222222; font-family: "Lucida Sans Unicode"; font-size: 12pt; language: en-US; mso-ansi-language: en-US; mso-ascii-font-family: "Lucida Sans Unicode"; mso-currency-font-family: "Lucida Sans Unicode"; mso-cyrillic-font-family: "Lucida Sans Unicode"; mso-default-font-family: "Lucida Sans Unicode"; mso-greek-font-family: "Lucida Sans Unicode"; mso-hebrew-font-family: "Lucida Sans Unicode"; mso-latin-font-family: "Lucida Sans Unicode"; mso-latinext-font-family: "Lucida Sans Unicode"; mso-ligatures: none; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #222222; mso-style-textfill-type: solid;">was a former policeman who ultimately spent his entire savings, an estimated $2000, to help with David’s defense for killing Shaw. James tried to prove that his brother was mentally ill. It was James who wrote Colonel John F. Phillips, asking him to help gather affidavits to prove David was insane, a danger to himself or others, and that he needed to be committed rather than executed.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: "Lucida Sans Unicode"; font-size: 12pt;">Even after a petition was sent to California Governor William Irwin with numerous signatures begging for a reprieve, nothing was done to explore if David Turley suffered from mental illness. By 8 a.m. on Feb. 25, 1876, David Turley was given notice that Irwin was not going to grant him clemency.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; mso-pagination: none;"><span lang="en-US" style="color: #222222; font-family: "Lucida Sans Unicode"; font-size: 12pt; language: en-US; mso-ansi-language: en-US; mso-ascii-font-family: "Lucida Sans Unicode"; mso-currency-font-family: "Lucida Sans Unicode"; mso-cyrillic-font-family: "Lucida Sans Unicode"; mso-default-font-family: "Lucida Sans Unicode"; mso-greek-font-family: "Lucida Sans Unicode"; mso-hebrew-font-family: "Lucida Sans Unicode"; mso-latin-font-family: "Lucida Sans Unicode"; mso-latinext-font-family: "Lucida Sans Unicode"; mso-ligatures: none; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #222222; mso-style-textfill-type: solid;">The Daily Alta California newspaper chronicled the last hours of David Turley’s life in detail, including his request to meet with Father Patrick Scanlon to be baptized as a Christian and be read his last rites. It was noted that people were lined up outside the building in hopes of catching sight of the hanging. At 2 p.m. Turley was marched up to the scaffold, a large shroud was placed over his clothes and a hood over his head. After a short prayer, it was documented that Turley shouted, </span><span lang="en-US" style="color: #222222; font-family: "Lucida Sans Unicode"; font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; language: en-US; mso-ansi-language: en-US; mso-ascii-font-family: "Lucida Sans Unicode"; mso-currency-font-family: "Lucida Sans Unicode"; mso-cyrillic-font-family: "Lucida Sans Unicode"; mso-default-font-family: "Lucida Sans Unicode"; mso-greek-font-family: "Lucida Sans Unicode"; mso-hebrew-font-family: "Lucida Sans Unicode"; mso-latin-font-family: "Lucida Sans Unicode"; mso-latinext-font-family: "Lucida Sans Unicode"; mso-ligatures: none; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #222222; mso-style-textfill-type: solid;">“Mother, mother I am coming!” </span><span lang="en-US" style="color: #222222; font-family: "Lucida Sans Unicode"; font-size: 12pt; language: en-US; mso-ansi-language: en-US; mso-ascii-font-family: "Lucida Sans Unicode"; mso-currency-font-family: "Lucida Sans Unicode"; mso-cyrillic-font-family: "Lucida Sans Unicode"; mso-default-font-family: "Lucida Sans Unicode"; mso-greek-font-family: "Lucida Sans Unicode"; mso-hebrew-font-family: "Lucida Sans Unicode"; mso-latin-font-family: "Lucida Sans Unicode"; mso-latinext-font-family: "Lucida Sans Unicode"; mso-ligatures: none; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #222222; mso-style-textfill-type: solid;">as the rope dropped. Although his neck was broken instantly, his pulse continued for another fifteen minutes until the doctor pronounced him dead. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; mso-pagination: none;"><span lang="en-US" style="color: #222222; font-family: "Lucida Sans Unicode"; font-size: 12pt; language: en-US; mso-ansi-language: en-US; mso-ascii-font-family: "Lucida Sans Unicode"; mso-currency-font-family: "Lucida Sans Unicode"; mso-cyrillic-font-family: "Lucida Sans Unicode"; mso-default-font-family: "Lucida Sans Unicode"; mso-greek-font-family: "Lucida Sans Unicode"; mso-hebrew-font-family: "Lucida Sans Unicode"; mso-latin-font-family: "Lucida Sans Unicode"; mso-latinext-font-family: "Lucida Sans Unicode"; mso-ligatures: none; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #222222; mso-style-textfill-type: solid;">In the end, although Turley was not given a chance to prove his mental state to the courts, we now know that he obviously suffered from something that made him very violent. Whether the Turley family as a whole suffered from inherited bad tempers, some sort of psychosis or chemical imbalances, they all seemed to have been affected by it. Most of David’s brothers were shot in the same way that Turley shot Shaw: Death didn’t just follow the Turley Family, it seems to have chased after them with a vengeance. Yet, by the lifestyles that they chose, the male members of the Turleys died the very way in which they lived. As the saying goes, </span><span lang="en-US" style="color: #222222; font-family: "Lucida Sans Unicode"; font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; language: en-US; mso-ansi-language: en-US; mso-ascii-font-family: "Lucida Sans Unicode"; mso-currency-font-family: "Lucida Sans Unicode"; mso-cyrillic-font-family: "Lucida Sans Unicode"; mso-default-font-family: "Lucida Sans Unicode"; mso-greek-font-family: "Lucida Sans Unicode"; mso-hebrew-font-family: "Lucida Sans Unicode"; mso-latin-font-family: "Lucida Sans Unicode"; mso-latinext-font-family: "Lucida Sans Unicode"; mso-ligatures: none; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #222222; mso-style-textfill-type: solid;">“live by the sword, die by the sword,” </span><span lang="en-US" style="color: #222222; font-family: "Lucida Sans Unicode"; font-size: 12pt; language: en-US; mso-ansi-language: en-US; mso-ascii-font-family: "Lucida Sans Unicode"; mso-currency-font-family: "Lucida Sans Unicode"; mso-cyrillic-font-family: "Lucida Sans Unicode"; mso-default-font-family: "Lucida Sans Unicode"; mso-greek-font-family: "Lucida Sans Unicode"; mso-hebrew-font-family: "Lucida Sans Unicode"; mso-latin-font-family: "Lucida Sans Unicode"; mso-latinext-font-family: "Lucida Sans Unicode"; mso-ligatures: none; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #222222; mso-style-textfill-type: solid;">so all men are responsible to face the consequences of their own actions, just as David Turley did on that day in 1876.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; mso-pagination: none;"><span lang="en-US" style="color: #222222; font-family: "Lucida Sans Unicode"; font-style: italic; language: en-US; mso-ansi-language: en-US; mso-ascii-font-family: "Lucida Sans Unicode"; mso-currency-font-family: "Lucida Sans Unicode"; mso-cyrillic-font-family: "Lucida Sans Unicode"; mso-default-font-family: "Lucida Sans Unicode"; mso-greek-font-family: "Lucida Sans Unicode"; mso-hebrew-font-family: "Lucida Sans Unicode"; mso-latin-font-family: "Lucida Sans Unicode"; mso-latinext-font-family: "Lucida Sans Unicode"; mso-ligatures: none; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #222222; mso-style-textfill-type: solid;"> By: J'aime Rubio --</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: "Lucida Sans Unicode"; font-style: italic;">Originally published on March 27, 2015 in the Roseville Press-Tribune. Reposted with permissions Courtesy of Gold Country Media.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="en-US"> <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none;"><span lang="en-US" style="language: en-US; mso-ligatures: none;"> <o:p></o:p></span></p>J'aime Rubio, Authorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00087085042404097820noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5490891062683504396.post-57793517635537574082024-01-26T20:32:00.000-08:002024-01-27T08:40:47.415-08:00Finding The Officially Recognized Photograph of Julia Bulette - Putting the Revisionist Ideas To Bed At Last!<p><span style="font-family: arial;"> </span><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></p><p></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLlzm7wO1lOFbvF94MF6CUgimy3YNoy2FhnmrMUoIPz38sfasRGowTU-AByuoETiXxhosnHyr6S197Gpx2_zDpnNzpu9DFgImiX-hG7fj6Q_IYChZJ93thJshKyKlolASj4b6j7yUaufwITuXa2qN8XTNTGGpRyOGY4NO2OddwSumc83X9MMEZ4KWWJBQ/s1030/Comparison%20Julia%20Bulette2.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="763" data-original-width="1030" height="333" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLlzm7wO1lOFbvF94MF6CUgimy3YNoy2FhnmrMUoIPz38sfasRGowTU-AByuoETiXxhosnHyr6S197Gpx2_zDpnNzpu9DFgImiX-hG7fj6Q_IYChZJ93thJshKyKlolASj4b6j7yUaufwITuXa2qN8XTNTGGpRyOGY4NO2OddwSumc83X9MMEZ4KWWJBQ/w450-h333/Comparison%20Julia%20Bulette2.jpg" width="450" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial;">1. Official Carte-de-Visite of Julia Bulette, Nevada Historical Society</span><br style="font-family: arial;" /><span style="font-family: arial;">2. Photograph of Alfred Doten, Nevada Historical Society </span></td></tr></tbody></table><p></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">Back in 2019, I covered the story of the Comstock's most famous courtesan, Julia Bulette in its entirety. From explaining and debunking fakelore surrounding her ever ellusive backstory, down to sharing the particulars surrounding her death and even her burial. As I explained in my blog, </span><a href="https://dreamingcasuallypoetry.blogspot.com/2019/11/the-comstock-courtesan-part-1.html" style="font-family: arial;" target="_blank">"The Comstock Courtesan, Part 1"</a><span style="font-family: arial;"> </span><span style="font-family: arial;">and in the chapter (of the same name) in my book</span><a href="https://www.amazon.com/More-Stories-Forgotten-Jaime-Rubio/dp/1979454043" style="font-family: arial;" target="_blank"> "More Stories of the Forgotten,"</a><span style="font-family: arial;"> no one knows exactly where Julia came from. This is a fact. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">Despite sharing all of this with the world, one thing seems to keep popping back up, the debate on what Julia Bulette looked like. This ongoing debate has gone on since at least the 1930s or 1940s, when the McBrides hung a photo in their "Bucket of Blood" Saloon, claiming to be the likeness of Julia Bulette and causing controversy.</span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaUKpxvrDpzVwaqlU_YLHeVtZqzGHJ0_7kQFylwSdbDkb6_XwrI94RbFHpEXmFbUueLGfsT_JkPyq8sB76spIFo14Fhjt7ZVetzunzwxfNq73VsZeqPONlELA-UZbhrKETZLrQl3LVH7o0F-mRo0jWn8d_3qDiXjDzVXErlIqJfxGr3oTL3tpj8gaOdTI/s500/false%20julia.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><img border="0" data-original-height="500" data-original-width="410" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaUKpxvrDpzVwaqlU_YLHeVtZqzGHJ0_7kQFylwSdbDkb6_XwrI94RbFHpEXmFbUueLGfsT_JkPyq8sB76spIFo14Fhjt7ZVetzunzwxfNq73VsZeqPONlELA-UZbhrKETZLrQl3LVH7o0F-mRo0jWn8d_3qDiXjDzVXErlIqJfxGr3oTL3tpj8gaOdTI/s320/false%20julia.jpg" width="262" /></span></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial;">FALSE PHOTO- NOT JULIA BULETTE<br />dated Circa 1880s</span></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span><p><span style="font-family: arial;">There's one problem. It's not Julia! The photograph posted just above which I have titled "False Photo," was actually examined and dated by a professional, and it turned out that the woman in the photograph could not possibly be Julia, as it was determined to have been taken in the 1880s. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">According to Sheryln Hayez-Zorn, Curator of History at the Nevada Historical Society, the photo in question<u> is not Julia Bulette</u>. Given the fact the photo was dated to the 1880s, and Julia was murdered in 1867, this alone proves that specific photograph could not be our Julia. Anyone who knows the common dress and hairstyle of different time periods would know that, but still, it didn't stop the unknowledgable from making such claims.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">Still, these debates have gone on for too long. So, today I am going to share with you what I have been trying to tell everyone for a very, very long time. The only photograph of Julia Bulette known in existence is the one taken in the Sutterley Brothers studio in Virginia City.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;"><b>Ms. Hayes-Zorn confirmed that the well-known carte-de-visite of a woman standing in the Sutterley Brothers portrait studion next to a fireman's hat in the dark dress is<u> the ONLY officially recognized photograph of Julia Bulette.</u></b> </span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">To add more credence to this, I have taken it upon myself to line up two photographs side by side for comparison at the top of this blog post. </span></p><p><i style="background-color: white;"><b><span style="font-family: arial;">"The Alf Doten photo of him wearing the fireman's helmet and with the same background only adds to the authentication of her photograph. There are other's of the early Comstock time period that can be seen with the same background."-- Sheryln Hayes-Zorn, Curator of History, Nevada Historical Society</span></b></i></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">The first photograph on the left is of Julia Bulette, and was taken on the Fourth of July, 1866. The photograh to the right, is of Alfred Doten, taken on the Fourth of July, 1867. As you can see, they are both standing in the same studio with the same backdrop. The photos, taken one year apart show that they were taken around the same time period in history. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">The day that the photograph of Julia was taken was said to have been a very special day for her, as reports mention that she was chosen to be a honorary member of the Fire Company #1 on that date, and that was the day she was able to ride in the parade with them for the Fourth of July Festivities. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">The newspaper spoke of the entire city taking part in the festivities, including many different groups appearing in the parade. One mention was that <b><i>"Virginia Engine Company No. 1 had a magnificent six-horse team attached to their engine, beautifully decorated with flowers and evergreens."</i></b></span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">Think about that for a moment. Why wouldn't Julia have wanted a photograph to remember this special day? Especially given the fact that she wasn't rich and famous as many people have made her out to be over the years. This was her day to shine, and for once she wasn't just a prostitute, she was somebody even if just for the day, and for that day she was treated like a "somebody." I am sure that was a good memory for her. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">If you examine the photograph, you can see she is standing next to a fireman's hat, wearing a fireman belt buckle with the number 1 on it. Her dress is plain, as was the attire of the period for any woman at that time. The belt buckle correlates her connection to Fire Company #1, whom cared for her so much that when she died, they were the ones who held her body until the day of her funeral, and they buried her in a plot that was reserved for the firemen in the original old Pioneers Cemetery, also known as Flowery Hill. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">That's another thing people don't seem to understand, in regards to why her grave is so far out there and why its location is virtually unknown today. </span><span style="font-family: arial;">So why bury her way out
on Flowery Hill and not in the other cemeteries? Well, when
Julia died, those other cemeteries didn’t exist yet. You have
to remember, this was 1867. The only cemetery there at
the time was the old Pioneer Cemetery or Boot Hill Cemetery which was known as “Flowery Hill.”</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;"> According to <b>“Mercantile Guide and Directory for
Virginia City, Gold Hill, Silver City and American City,” </b>compiled by Charles Collins, 1864-65, it states:
<i><b>“This city can now boast of a public burial place for
the dead, the ground formerly known as the Flowery Hill
Cemetery has been purchased for its owner, J.B. Wallard,
by the city, at a cost of twenty-five hundred dollars. The
City Council are taking the necessary steps to have the
grounds, laid off in a manner which, when completed, will
reflect credit on the good taste of its projectors. The tract
contains 27 acres. <u>A portion of the grounds has been reserved and laid off for the exclusive use of the firemen of
this city.”</u></b></i>— </span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;"> Another publication <b>“A History of the Virginia Exempt Firemen’s Association Cemetery” </b>states <i><b>“Although
a firemen’s section had been laid out in the Pioneer Cemetery on Flowery Hill years before, in May of 1868 the
Virginia Fire Department purchased a section of the Silver Terrace Cemetery for its use from undertakers
Charles M. Brown and Josh W. Wilson for $50.00."</b></i></span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">So, you can see the fire department loved her, because they buried her in their section of the cemetery that was reserved for them. The only reason they no longer buried their own in that same area was because two years later they purchased a different section of the newer Silver Terrace Cemetery, and the old pioneer cemetery became defunct and forgotten over time. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;"><b>Back to the subject...</b></span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">Going back to the subject at hand, there are some who still question whether this carte-de-visite really was Julia, because she was dressed rather plainly for a prostitute. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">In reality, what do you think a prostitute looked like in 1867?</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">In my research, many times, I have found that prostitutes outside of their boudoir would dress the same as any other woman of the time period. It seems that the world has a romanticized view of what they think a prostitute looked or dressed like based on television and movies. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">I recall a historian telling me once many years ago that the only difference between a lady and a prostitute at that time period was that a lady didn't look up and stare a man in his face, as it was improper; However, a prostitute didn't have the fear of improprieties and would have no problem looking a man in the face as she spoke to him. The point the historian was making was that during normal daily activities outside of the brothel, a prostitute would have dressed in the normal fashion of the day.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">When I asked Ms. Hayes-Zorn on her opinion about this subject, she confirmed this with me by saying:</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;"> <i style="background-color: white;"><b>"Julia and any other woman or prostitute that went outside of their bedroom or home, would dress according to Victorian standards on the types of activities or time of day. In her photograph, she is wearing good quality clothing but it is not competing with the fireman's belt or helmet. </b></i><i style="background-color: white;"><b>You are correct, I believe people have a romanticized view of how a prostitute would dress or behave due to movies and television. Women wouldn't stare at men or talk with strangers (men) without a formal introduction by friends and family, or be alone with a man without a chaperone."-- </b></i></span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="background-color: white;">So, today we have discussed the facts that there is only one officially recognized photograph of Julia Bulette in existence, and the fact that just because she looked "plain Jane" in her photograph didn't mean it wasn't Julia, just because she didn't "look" like what some people think a prostitute should have looked like back then.</span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="background-color: white;">Writer, Susan James once said on the subject of Julia,<b> "</b></span><i style="background-color: white; text-indent: 21.6pt;"><b>So little was known about her life that her attributes could be greatly enhanced without fear of contradiction…writers speculated about Julia’s ancestry. The fact that she might have lived in Louisiana was all they needed to transform the fair-skinned Englishwoman into an enticing New Orleans Creole. Exotic beauty was not among Julia’s assets, but it didn’t hurt to stretch the truth a bit.” --"Queen of Tarts"</b></i></span></p><p><span style="background-color: white; text-indent: 21.6pt;"><span style="font-family: arial;">In reality, we will never know for certain just where Julia Bulette came from. What we do know is what she looked like. No, she wasn't a dark skinned or mixed raced prostitute. She wasn't even remarkably beautiful by societal standards of the time, but she was cared for by those who chose to remember her and honor her after her death. </span></span></p><p><span style="background-color: white; text-indent: 21.6pt;"><span style="font-family: arial;">In life, I do not believe she lived well, nor do I believe she was treated like a lady by any means, but I do believe that everyone deserves their stories to be told and we all owe the dead the truth. Julia lived a hard life in a time where life was hard enough as it was. She didn't make life any easier on herself chosing the oldest profession in the book, but that was the choice she made. Love her or hate her, she did however leave her mark in Virginia City, one that cannot easily be erased.</span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">Rest in Peace, Julia Bulette.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">(Copyright 2023 - J'aime Rubio, www.jaimerubiowriter.com) </span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;"><u>A big thanks to Sheryln Hayes-Zorn and the Nevada Historical Society for helping me with this additional project!</u></span></p><p><span style="background-color: white; text-indent: 21.6pt;"><span style="font-family: arial;">Some of my Sources:</span></span></p><p><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: arial;">"More Stories of the Forgotten," J'aime Rubio, 2019</span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333;">Gold Hill daily news. [volume]</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333;"> (Gold Hill, N.T. [Nev.]), 05 July 1866</span></span></p><p><span style="color: #343268;"><span style="font-family: arial;">Gold Hill daily news. [volume] (Gold Hill, N.T. [Nev.]) 1863-1882, January 22, 1867</span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">A History of the Virginia Exempt Firemen’s Association Cemetery, Steve Frady, 1980-1987</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">Mercantile Guide and Directory for Virginia City, Gold Hill, Silver City and American City, Charles Collins, 1864-65 </span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">“Queen of Tarts,” by Susan James in Nevada Magazine, Sept/Oct 1984</span></p>J'aime Rubio, Authorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00087085042404097820noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5490891062683504396.post-19847413729039581542023-11-16T19:14:00.000-08:002023-12-23T08:03:44.550-08:00Deaths at the Gate -- Jackson Gate, Amador County <p><span style="background-color: white; font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeaKlrvaW53t0bbug6UcryKRM6LKrQ-SufH1FcH7qiGpqdSV5Ojx1XOTt6kuvrO8mVBMFJQj6TfhlkOzNBU_vHGctqQfQv02u3Koab9eNmSSYu8NdKaoxJHHeuN_HLUSGLfiTsgz7FoVktPjTMuJq9FxJb_Ct_TyM2A3up7KpuQ0I5tdjVm4ufsIdWDDk/s4608/Sat.%20July%2016,%202022%20-%20Jackson%20(12)%20(KEEP).jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3456" data-original-width="4608" height="358" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeaKlrvaW53t0bbug6UcryKRM6LKrQ-SufH1FcH7qiGpqdSV5Ojx1XOTt6kuvrO8mVBMFJQj6TfhlkOzNBU_vHGctqQfQv02u3Koab9eNmSSYu8NdKaoxJHHeuN_HLUSGLfiTsgz7FoVktPjTMuJq9FxJb_Ct_TyM2A3up7KpuQ0I5tdjVm4ufsIdWDDk/w477-h358/Sat.%20July%2016,%202022%20-%20Jackson%20(12)%20(KEEP).jpg" width="477" /></a></div><br /><span style="background-color: white; font-family: georgia;"><br /></span><p></p><p><span style="background-color: white; font-family: georgia;">Today, we are going to delve into a couple of the deaths that took place at the area known as Jackson Gate. Many years ago, I had stumbled across an old newspaper clipping mentioning that in the early days, several people had died from cholera after drinking in the creek near the Gate after something had been contaminating it. As it turns out, when I went back recently to research that, I couldn't find the clipping, so as of right now, I am still trying to find that specific reference. When I do find it, that will be cited for reference with more details. For now, that is part of the lore at The Gate. </span></p><p><span style="background-color: white; font-family: georgia;">Well, this memory of finding that clipping is what led me to the interest in learning more about the history of that specific spot known to locals as "The Gate," or Jackson Gate, and if anyone else had died in that general area. </span></p><p><span style="background-color: white; font-family: georgia;">After more research, I found a couple of documented deaths, and so I wanted to share them with my readers.</span></p><p><span style="background-color: white; font-family: georgia;">One of the stories that I dug up during my research into the history of the old hangman's tree on Main Street in Jackson was the murder at Squaw Gulch.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"><span face="Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif" style="background-color: white;">In 1851, two Frenchmen were butchered in Squaw Gulch which was "near Jackson Gate." As the history of Amador County states "</span><i style="background-color: white;">One was stabbed with a long bowie-knife thirteen times, dying immediately. The other, though cut five or six times, lived for several days." </i></span></p><span style="font-family: georgia;"><span face="Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif" style="background-color: white;">According to Larry Cenotto's research records, </span><i style="background-color: white;">"Monsieur Pontanier and an unknown French "companion" on May 20, 1852, were attacked while they slept in their tent in Squaw Gulch near the Gate." </i><span face="Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif" style="background-color: white;">The men had been stabbed to death. The deaths of these two men was what led up to the formation of the Jackson Vigilance Committee. The committee offered a $300 reward to anyone who helped apprehend or deliver the murderer(s).</span><br style="background-color: white;" /><br style="background-color: white;" /><span face="Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif" style="background-color: white;">Initially, another man Gregorio Soberano was arrested while at a bistro in downtown Jackson, but he was later exonerated. Later on, another man was brought on charges. His name was Cheverino. He had been examined and sent to the "log jail," to be held until he could stand trial, but that night a mob of people (let me make this clear it was NOT the Vigilance Committee) broke into the jail and dragged Cheverino out to the oak tree on Main Street.</span><br style="background-color: white;" /><br style="background-color: white;" /><span face="Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif" style="background-color: white;">The first of two hangings took place around 8:30 p.m. on the evening of June 10th, 1852. He would be the 3rd execution by way of the hanging tree in Jackson. </span><br style="background-color: white;" /><br style="background-color: white;" /><span face="Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif" style="background-color: white;">According to records, the rope was put around his neck and he was pulled up while his hands were free. So, he began clenching onto the rope around his neck, struggling to survive. This allegedly went on for about ten minutes before they dropped the rope, and tied his hands behind his back and then raised the rope again. It was said that Cheverino had admitted guilt in the murder of Pontanier.</span><br style="background-color: white;" /><br style="background-color: white;" /><span face="Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif" style="background-color: white;">His accomplice, Cruz Flores had been found out by chance when another Mexican, Mariano, who had been arrested for horse theft in Sacramento, implicated Cruz Flores, as the other man who murdered a Frenchman near Jackson Gate, or "The Gate."</span><br style="background-color: white;" /><br style="background-color: white;" /><span face="Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif" style="background-color: white;">Flores, the 4th man to be one of the Hanging Tree's executions, was hanged the next day on June 11th, 1852.</span></span><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">Another tragedy that took place near "The Gate" was the death of William Holder. His story is a little bit more detailed, as I was able to find a lot more about him than the last two mentioned above.</span></div><div><br /></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">William Holder was born in England in 1855, and had immigrated to the United States in his early adulthood. By 1880, he was living in the home of William Bryant and family in Pine Grove, working as a blacksmith. By July 3, 1881 he married Frances "Fanny" Hawkins Younglove, who had just been divorced by her 1st husband Dwight Younglove, who appeared to have been habitual womanizer, getting married only to divorce shortly after. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">Perhaps William was Fanny's "knight in shining armor," and even though she had a young son from the previous union, it did not deter William from marrying her. Sadly, on February 22, 1884, Fanny passed away from what appears to have been a short illness, and was buried at the Ione Cemetery. She was originally from Missouri, and grew up in Lancha Plana, currently where Lake Camanche rests. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">Interestingly, it appears that William loved his wife so much, as he fought over the custody of his stepson, Albert, against Albert's father, Dwight Younglove, upon Fanny's passing. Per Fanny's will, she named William and her brother, Melville as executors of her estate, and requested that her young son to remain with her mother, Mary Ann.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">Only 8 months after Fanny's death, it appears that William or "Billy" as locals called him, fell in love again, this time to Margaret "Maggie" Guerra. Maggie's mother was from Mexico while her father Deonisio Guerra was from Chile, and worked in the mines, as did her brothers Frank and Albert. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">Maggie and William married on October 22, 1884.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj53SnwnVsIk_B-_Y4pNNIvpkSpkGC4xavVjxdz4iYSmyBr1KVXVN1EsGoqBHZSd5w_QcMbqZel2Dgwwwe7YKCKqj5hrYK3RWSr-IezNGzSPg5QmvScJ5FiFWcTdctiqQ9FgXad7Q3ZlGreThhCT8Bx2-qw8SJMwivocSJPirWQL2h53WSYo9TScE89pRY/s878/Screenshot%202023-10-29%20110437.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="645" data-original-width="878" height="343" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj53SnwnVsIk_B-_Y4pNNIvpkSpkGC4xavVjxdz4iYSmyBr1KVXVN1EsGoqBHZSd5w_QcMbqZel2Dgwwwe7YKCKqj5hrYK3RWSr-IezNGzSPg5QmvScJ5FiFWcTdctiqQ9FgXad7Q3ZlGreThhCT8Bx2-qw8SJMwivocSJPirWQL2h53WSYo9TScE89pRY/w467-h343/Screenshot%202023-10-29%20110437.png" width="467" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">Maggie ran a local laundry business out of her home at 156 Main Street in Jackson, where she would wash and iron clothes for locals to make money. When she purchased her home in 1878 from then owner, George Stasal, she paid $450.00, which would have been equal to $14.323.17 today as a "real price" as measured by inflating the amount by the Consumer Price Index or (CPI.) </span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">For the record, there is no evidence of Maggie being a madam or prostitute as some people may have insinuated on other websites. I feel that is not only disrespectful to the memory of Maggie and her family, but is also very ignorant to make assumptions without having documentation to back up said claims. The records show Maggie was just a normal lady, living in Jackson, working in the laundry service business, and I have found nothing to suggest she was a <i>"lady of the night."</i></span></div><div><br /></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">William would go on to have a child with Maggie, a son, William Jr., who was born on November 21*, 1885. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">(*What is neat about this story, is that their son was born on my son's birthday, and their marriage took place on my father's birthday, so that was interesting.) </span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br />Their newfound happiness would end in tragedy though, as young Billy died at the age of 2 years old on June 8, 1888. The couple would go on to have two more children, daughters Della and Amelia, born in 1888 and 1892. These two would grow up into their adulthood.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">The Amador Ledger shows that by 1893, William was selling wagons that he was manufacturing and advertising in the newspaper. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: georgia; text-align: left;">Going back to the story.....</span></div></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">The death of William Holder took place Tuesday evening, January 12, 1909. According to the Amador Dispatch, Holder had been found that following morning, <i>"lying face downward in the sand and the mud of the north fork of Jackson Creek, the lower limbs partially in the water."</i></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">His boss, V.J. Chichizola, whom Holder was working as a blacksmith for, discovered his body that morning around 8 a.m. He was found just west of the Chichizola store, across the road where the creek is located. Upon examination by Coroner Potter, it was ascertained that Holder had been seen at Casazza's saloon the evening prior. Witnesses stated that he came to the bar around 8 p.m. already very inebriated, and although he stayed for about an hour he didn't drink any more while there. He left the bar around 9 p.m. and stumbled out of there on his way home to his small cabin across the creek just north of Teresa's Place. </span></div><div><br /></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAO7B5chjBPQBo9h1xwACrZlZP4_UOqHohK8O1C7qoZiN_fdBajpPsHkybT4ym36Epvshr1u9m3RewlgL79gy7etsnxscwswu4U3JztM3x4THcoUa3ToXgJYmue1YWP2oDptqyMq0nhZsnS54IHMzPIbQ0LMrrnT7h6gkZ-et3RCnLBR5qxLQUoCnsZKk/s621/Screenshot%202023-10-28%20201349.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="474" data-original-width="621" height="377" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAO7B5chjBPQBo9h1xwACrZlZP4_UOqHohK8O1C7qoZiN_fdBajpPsHkybT4ym36Epvshr1u9m3RewlgL79gy7etsnxscwswu4U3JztM3x4THcoUa3ToXgJYmue1YWP2oDptqyMq0nhZsnS54IHMzPIbQ0LMrrnT7h6gkZ-et3RCnLBR5qxLQUoCnsZKk/w505-h377/Screenshot%202023-10-28%20201349.png" width="505" /></a></div></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">I am not 100% certain, but I think it is possible that William's drinking habits may have put a strain on his marriage at some point before Maggie's death in 1896, because I couldn't find any records of their dwelling together in the same home in the 1890's, plus they are not buried with one another, nor are they even at the same cemetery. She's in the Catholic Cemetery in a large plot, while William in a very small spot at the Jackson City Cemetery nearby.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">At the time of his death in 1909, William was living in this little cabin near his job, while his two young daughters were being raised by Maggie's family.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">The weather that night was very stormy and the creek had risen significantly. It was stated that <i>"instead of using one of the foot bridges one some distance above and another below the blacksmith shop, Holder attempted to cross at a point near the cabin ass was his custom when the water was low."</i> The article goes on to mention that Holder was<i> "carried off his balance by the current, he had fallen into the muddy water from which he was unable to rise owing to the stupor of his condition, and was drowned."</i></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">So basically, he tried to cross the creek and it knocked him off his feet, and being as drunk as he was, he didn't have the strength or stamina to pull himself up and he drowned. The sand in his hair and the pockets of his clothes were evidence enough that the water had risen up higher than normal in the night, and sadly, Holder didn't make it.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">Just to quell any suspicions of foul play -- the Coroner determined based on evidence that it was an "Accidental Drowning." Holder wasn't murdered and no one robbed him, in case anyone wants to make those assumptions. There would be no reason to have killed him. He didn't have any enemies, and he didn't have anything of value on him, except the new shoes on his feet, which were found on his person when they discovered his body. In fact, he had just purchased those shoes that day at the Chichizola Store. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">Holder was known around Jackson, and everyone seemed to like him. Only on one documented occasion was he involved in anything that made the newspapers, and it really wasn't his fault. It appears that on the Fourth of July, 1907, during the festivities an Indian (native American), who was overly inebriated, assaulted William in public and they duked it out, which landed the Indian in jail. William walked away from the altercation with his hands clean, (meaning he didn't go to jail). </span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">Although he was known for his intemperate habits towards the end, he was spoke of as <i>"unassuming, courteous, always cheerful, never boistress.... and was liked for his better qualities, while pitied for the degenerate condition to which his appetite dragged him."</i></span></div><div><br /></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">It appears that in his early years he had been a very hard working man, and had even owned two shops, one of which included the wagon making business, and was considered a <i>"prosperous business man,"</i> so it is very sad to see how he ended up. With all of that potential, he allowed his bad habits and addictions to get the best of him, which ultimately led him to losing his family, his businesses, his prosperity and eventually his life.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">He was buried at the City Cemetery in Jackson in a small plot. Hopefully now he has the peace he struggled to find at the end of a bottle.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhH4yYVgcXNudcZQgQXlmCU6lo0oF1FwA_fZUmO2qfctApi-LvDBi1czSsVj39JRw1z2_Hvua7Yqu3wEPgCqUcQ4MDtfDkNaQLYKv-1q1pTBfexEiNkyr94fc-Dpcs2Xol5RsR-sQ8qfwwsXj5zEVNWMlfzeaAbwq6tQoT21HNAVE5w6IG58qo3J99dklo/s2560/holder.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1920" data-original-width="2560" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhH4yYVgcXNudcZQgQXlmCU6lo0oF1FwA_fZUmO2qfctApi-LvDBi1czSsVj39JRw1z2_Hvua7Yqu3wEPgCqUcQ4MDtfDkNaQLYKv-1q1pTBfexEiNkyr94fc-Dpcs2Xol5RsR-sQ8qfwwsXj5zEVNWMlfzeaAbwq6tQoT21HNAVE5w6IG58qo3J99dklo/s320/holder.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Photo: Courtesy of Steve Jones on Find-a-Grave</td></tr></tbody></table><br /></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">May William Holder rest in peace....</span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">(Copyright 2023, J'aime Rubio, www.jaimerubiowriter.com) </span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div>J'aime Rubio, Authorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00087085042404097820noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5490891062683504396.post-31084424598349183962023-04-13T18:21:00.008-07:002023-08-30T20:21:44.551-07:00Three Men Killed In the Kennedy Mine - Peter Garcia, Sam Martinez & Liberto Mendes <p> </p><div class="x11i5rnm xat24cr x1mh8g0r x1vvkbs xdj266r x126k92a" style="background-color: white; color: #050505; margin: 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div dir="auto"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div dir="auto"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9D27gqBV8LKkQuE2JJgaNcSu2dMuXDKHr5nFNLHXH5ioOTjc-Ak5zheSh5BjK0L2TyzjvdYdIWwh9bYW28_lfyXIPftVgX8RRNrt4cweyw7g0s3N6fI88CR5bWI-uRdOKDF4pA4nhqyAcUZdpQMrOgWxj5CTL9qtgZoxXJXTM5b3rF8onoC6E4cM_/s2048/275246604_10225886720106714_4634135608559178882_n.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="481" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9D27gqBV8LKkQuE2JJgaNcSu2dMuXDKHr5nFNLHXH5ioOTjc-Ak5zheSh5BjK0L2TyzjvdYdIWwh9bYW28_lfyXIPftVgX8RRNrt4cweyw7g0s3N6fI88CR5bWI-uRdOKDF4pA4nhqyAcUZdpQMrOgWxj5CTL9qtgZoxXJXTM5b3rF8onoC6E4cM_/w640-h481/275246604_10225886720106714_4634135608559178882_n.jpg" width="640" /></a><br /><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div dir="auto"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div dir="auto"><span style="font-family: georgia;">No matter what I do, my work always seems to come full circle. Almost 11 years ago, I published my first historical non-fiction book, </span><a href="https://www.amazon.com/Behind-Walls-Historical-Preston-Industry/dp/1481075047" style="font-family: georgia;">"Behind The Walls."</a><span style="font-family: georgia;"> based on the history of the Preston School of Industry (a.k.a. Preston Castle), little did I know that while researching for my 5th historical non-fiction book </span><b style="font-family: georgia;"><a href="https://www.amazon.com/Behind-Walls-Historical-Preston-Industry/dp/1481075047?ref_=ast_author_dp">"Down Below: A History of Deaths at the Kennedy Mine,"</a> </b><span style="font-family: georgia;"> I would find stories that are intertwined with Preston in one way or another. </span></div></div><div class="x11i5rnm xat24cr x1mh8g0r x1vvkbs xtlvy1s x126k92a" style="background-color: white; margin: 0.5em 0px 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word;"><div dir="auto" style="color: #050505; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">One such story is the horrific explosion at the Kennedy Mine that took place on February 13, 1932, when four <a style="color: #385898; cursor: pointer;" tabindex="-1"></a>miners: Peter Garcia, Sam Martinez, Liberto Mendez and Felix Achavan were victims of an unfortunate dynamite accident.</span></div><div dir="auto" style="color: #050505; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div dir="auto" style="color: #050505; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">According to the Amador Dispatch, it was an explosion at the 4800 foot level of the mine that took place around 4 a.m. in the morning on Saturday, February 13, that caused the fatalities.</span></div><div dir="auto" style="color: #050505; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div dir="auto" style="color: #050505; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">The miners were prepping the area for blasting, and while rounding the holes, they found that the water leaking down the walls of stope was preventing several of the fuses to ignite. So in order to fire the fuse, they had to re-cut them. Unfortunately, they re-cut them too short, and since they had about 46 fuses to fire, by the time they lit the last fuse, the first one went off.</span></div><div dir="auto" style="color: #050505; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div dir="auto" style="color: #050505; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh82NfvFWF6zsL2nXV_6blFidye2NDLVP17YOxcc6Mxh8ZeSB6NW042LaKUNTVDm5MP_-kKNG162DHR0-fYuGdz27IlktVGGftBvrLGk7uO_ygdqQbivaWL5Ys7m22sDh7HYIu_8ILzX_GU8v0p9VofOYQ1kLWbrZ6ftdQIvm8GXkzZilFZJaBeDIjm/s424/Colusa_2131932.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="424" data-original-width="267" height="468" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh82NfvFWF6zsL2nXV_6blFidye2NDLVP17YOxcc6Mxh8ZeSB6NW042LaKUNTVDm5MP_-kKNG162DHR0-fYuGdz27IlktVGGftBvrLGk7uO_ygdqQbivaWL5Ys7m22sDh7HYIu_8ILzX_GU8v0p9VofOYQ1kLWbrZ6ftdQIvm8GXkzZilFZJaBeDIjm/w296-h468/Colusa_2131932.jpg" width="296" /></a></div><span style="font-family: georgia;">According to the only surviving witness, Felix Achavan, the supervisor on duty overseeing their work, Peter Garcia, had warned them he thought it was time to go, and just as he spoke those words the explosion went off. Both Peter Garcia and Sam Martinez died instantly, while Liberto Mendes and Felix Achavan were rushed to the hospital at the Preston School of Industry, in Ione. Sadly, within hours of arriving to Preston, Liberto succumbed to his injuries. Felix stayed several days at the hospital but recovered.</span></div><div dir="auto" style="color: #050505; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div dir="auto" style="color: #050505; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">The dead were brought to Daneri's Funeral home and the funerals for the miners were all held individually at St. Patrick Catholic Cemetery in Jackson. Sadly, none of the miners have marked graves, and you can only know they were buried there because of the newspaper clippings and cemetery records showing they were buried there. </span></div><div dir="auto" style="color: #050505; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div dir="auto" style="color: #050505; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">Peter Garcia was only 39 years old and was a native of Spain. He had lived in Amador County for many years and was very much a beloved member of the community. Sam Martinez was only 23 years old at the time of his death, and was also a native of Spain. while Liberto Mendes was 36 years old and a native of Mexico. </span></div><div dir="auto" style="color: #050505; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div dir="auto" style="color: #050505; text-align: center; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: medium;"><b><u>You can visit their virtual graves here on Find-a-grave and leave them virtual messages and "flowers" </u></b></span><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: medium;"><b><u>here:</u></b></span><span style="font-family: georgia;"> </span></div><div dir="auto" style="color: #050505; text-align: center; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div dir="auto" style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #050505; font-family: georgia;"><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"><a href="https://www.findagrave.com/memorial/176567415/peter-garcia">https://www.findagrave.com/memorial/176567415/peter-garcia</a></span></span></div><div dir="auto" style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #050505; font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div dir="auto" style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #050505; font-family: georgia;"><a href="https://www.findagrave.com/memorial/176567489/sam-martinez">https://www.findagrave.com/memorial/176567489/sam-martinez</a></span></div><div dir="auto" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div dir="auto" style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.findagrave.com/memorial/176567551/liberto-mendez"><span style="font-family: georgia;">https://www.findagrave.com/memorial/176567551/liberto-mendez</span></a></div><div dir="auto" style="color: #050505; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div dir="auto" style="color: #050505; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div dir="auto" style="color: #050505; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">After recovering from his injuries, Felix was interviewed for the Coroner's Inquest and his story was published in the local newspaper which is posted below.</span></div></div><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">Amador
Dispatch – 2/26/1932<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="line-height: 107%;"><i><b><span style="font-family: georgia;">“Lone
Survivor Tells Story of Mine Accident—<o:p></o:p></span></b></i></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="line-height: 107%;"><i><b><span style="font-family: georgia;">At
an inquest conducted on Monday evening by Coroner J.J. Daneri, Felix Achavan
told the story of the recent accident at the Kennedy mine when three miners
lost their lives and Achavan miraculously escaped a like fate.<o:p></o:p></span></b></i></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><i><b><span style="font-family: georgia;"><span style="line-height: 107%;">According
to the story told by the witness at the hearing, he was working in a stope on
the 4800 foot level of the mine and with companions had prepared a round of 46
holes for blasting. He stated that after loading had been completed, he was
assisted by Foreman Garcia in lighting the fuse. Samuel Martinez and Foreman
Garcia standing by to give assistance that might be needed; that difficulty was
experienced in lighting some of the fuse because of dampness from water that
had dripped upon the fuse, making it necessary to again “spit” them, at
operation causing considerable delay. </span>Finally
Garcia made the statement “we have been here too long, let’s get out” and
barely had the word been uttered when an explosion occurred.</span></b></i></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><i><b><span style="font-family: georgia;"><span style="line-height: 107%;">Mr.
Achavan stated that all were thrown to the ground by the force of the
explosion. His position on the opposite side of the stope from the first
explosion afforded him a measure of protection and probably accounted for his
escape from death. He expressed the belief that the others were in the direct
path of the flying rocks rendering escape impossible. He immediately crawled
from the scene. Peter Garcia and Samuel Martinez were killed instantly and
Liberto Mendez died a few hours following his removal to the Preston Hospital. </span><span style="line-height: 107%;">Achavan
gave a vivid recitation of the experience but the recollection of the
unfortunate accident was one that unnerved the man and caused him to leave the
room sobbing.</span> </span></b></i></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><i><b><span style="font-family: georgia;"><span style="line-height: 107%;">Following
the hearing of the testimony the following verdict we rendered by the jury: </span>“The
cause of death was the discharge of powder when the deceased were delayed in
their work by damp fuses while they were employed in blasting in the north
drift of the 4800 foot level of the Kennedy mine near Jackson.”---</span></b></i></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">May these miners, and the rest of the 43 miners who have all lost their lives at the Kennedy Mine during its years of operation rest in peace, never forgotten. </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><a href="https://www.amazon.com/Behind-Walls-Historical-Preston-Industry/dp/1481075047?ref_=ast_author_dp">TO READ MORE STORIES ABOUT THE MEN AT THE KENNEDY MINE, PLEASE CLICK ON THIS LINK HERE! </a></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">(Copyright 2023- J'aime Rubio, <a href="http://www.jaimerubiowriter.com">www.jaimerubiowriter.com</a>) </span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">Sources:</span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">Amador Dispatch – 2/26/1932</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">Amador
Dispatch – 2/19/1932<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">Amador Ledger - 2/13/1932</span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">Colusa Herald, 2/13/1932;</span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">Healdsburg Tribune 2/13/1932</span></p>J'aime Rubio, Authorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00087085042404097820noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5490891062683504396.post-74731545642168425432023-02-11T10:42:00.006-08:002023-02-11T11:21:54.371-08:00GoFundMe Fundraiser To Replace Bathsheba Sherman's Headstone Reaches its Goal<p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhb1qPZCffKFrgGbfxEXsnWkM1qhMPVrK7Ntw4eSZJae1MrOW6qTP10Hjw6ouTQvFulaltpYHAeTdPbB96VuIDmvMn8NqgCkiOE5Xs2Oltl5EPwTP8AXHhSTE87fTaRrZnXrufTaKWe-D-5JF7UFJlm97pLUhVeZLIleRcqIM4rJfDiggLcoZr0nQ_I/s1404/bathsheba-sherman-stone-through-fence%20(1).jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1000" data-original-width="1404" height="354" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhb1qPZCffKFrgGbfxEXsnWkM1qhMPVrK7Ntw4eSZJae1MrOW6qTP10Hjw6ouTQvFulaltpYHAeTdPbB96VuIDmvMn8NqgCkiOE5Xs2Oltl5EPwTP8AXHhSTE87fTaRrZnXrufTaKWe-D-5JF7UFJlm97pLUhVeZLIleRcqIM4rJfDiggLcoZr0nQ_I/w497-h354/bathsheba-sherman-stone-through-fence%20(1).jpg" width="497" /></a></div><br /><p><br /></p><p>This blog post is more of an update of sorts concerning my efforts to help the Burrillville Historical Society raise funds to replace Bathsheba Sherman's headstone. </p><p>As of yesterday, February 10, 2023, we have now reached and surpassed our goal!!</p><p>I want to thank everyone that was involved in donating towards this cause and I want to list everyone by name at the bottom of this list. I cannot begin to thank everyone enough for this generosity of contributing to and in some cases just sharing the link. With everyone's help we have reached that goal and now Bathsheba will get the headstone she so deserves, so that she can now rest in peace alongside her family, as she had always done before the nightmare of vandalism plagued her poor stone, because of "The Conjuring."</p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='379' height='373' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dx8Ps-m0zna2hGrtnhZUWNGJYPKOmATJLeHfH90KqV8BnLD0OOZEz5bFtJVASHChXQLxT8tMAyn79QfnUHeiA' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div><p><br /></p>I am not one to shy away from speaking my mind, even if it ruffles a few feathers, and I won't be tiptoeing around this either. Plain and simple, the film "The Conjuring" brought a lot of attention to Burrillville, the Old Arnold Estate on Roundtop Road but especially to the grave of Bathsheba Sherman located at the Riverside Cemetery in Harrisville. In turn, that bad publicity influenced others to deface and vandalize Bathsheba's final resting place because they believed the lies perpetuated in the movie. In turn television shows, YouTube & TikTok videos, blogs and countless other means of social media posts then began to spread like wildfire continuing to share this false history concerning Bathsheba, only further sullying her reputation and defaming her character posthumously. <p></p><p>But we cannot lay all the blame on the movie or social media posts, we have to go all the way back to the people who first started the erroneous rumors concerning Bathsheba. Who were those people? Well, someone plucked Bathsheba's name out of thin air and attached it to this sinister entity that the Perron's claimed was terrorizing them at their home. But who was the one who started it all? </p><p>Whether you want to lay blame on the Perron family or the Warrens is not for me to say. I cannot point the finger at one person and say for certain which one it was who started it. Did Lorraine Warren come up with the name while strolling by the cemetery? Or was it Carolyn who saw the name on a walk one day? We will never know, because we were not there. </p><p>Bathsheba had nothing to do with the house in any way, and like I have proven in my blogs and my book, <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Stories-Forgotten-Infamous-Famous-Unremembered/dp/1523981172">"Stories of the Forgotten: Infamous, Famous & Unremembered," </a>Bathsheba was never accused of any wrongdoing in her lifetime. She was not a witch, not a murderer, not a bad person. She did not hang herself on the property either, as the film portrays. Like I mentioned, the people who created the movie got their information from somewhere, and those people are to blame for the slander done to Bathsheba over the years. That is a fact. </p><p>But one thing is for certain, there was no Mr. McKeachern and there were no rumors about Bathsheba prior to Earl Kenyon's passing, which was when the house was later sold to the Perron family. You do the math. It's just plain common sense.<b><u> The stories started AFTER Mr. Kenyon's death and subsequent selling of the Arnold farmhouse in the 1970's.</u></b></p><p>The unfortunate thing in all of this is that those people who continued to perpetuate the false narrative surrounding Bathsheba did nothing to right these wrongs over all of these years. They could have made an attempt to do so, they could have even started a fundraiser like I did, to help replace her headstone years ago. Still, nothing was done. </p><p>As I stated in a previous blog, I had reached out to many people in "paranormal celebrity" circles in the past 2 years, and only a handful responded and only a very few donated, but those who did I am forever grateful for that. </p><p>When I was first interested in helping Betty at the historical society I wanted to see if any groups such as the Masons, Odd Fellows and the Eagle or Boy Scouts would be interested in donating their time to restore her headstone. I reached out to all of those groups and never got a response. I reached out to a few stone workers asking if they would be willing to help with the stonework for her headstone and again, I received no reply. The GoFundMe proved to be the only means to draw enough attention and response to promote this effort.</p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYfgIwXklkwi6zcmAiKn25aGV9SBHNswemsVgiAgZtAFWibF8BpWrfxrxxloezu8FT8aD7OsCkR69pnQi32sTbyCZI-BJpIntJt-u4CKPfUD-WZMfc3sUfKES7nJWfjIcy3L06UCEHQUOH0PlC67rAbnL60RgRuccFbOqnMakEeCb7M8V5x0rOG8FL/s763/conjuring%20house%20post.png" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="763" data-original-width="722" height="361" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYfgIwXklkwi6zcmAiKn25aGV9SBHNswemsVgiAgZtAFWibF8BpWrfxrxxloezu8FT8aD7OsCkR69pnQi32sTbyCZI-BJpIntJt-u4CKPfUD-WZMfc3sUfKES7nJWfjIcy3L06UCEHQUOH0PlC67rAbnL60RgRuccFbOqnMakEeCb7M8V5x0rOG8FL/w342-h361/conjuring%20house%20post.png" width="342" /></a></div>I am glad to announce that we have now reached our goal and the headstone will be replaced once and for all. The biggest donation that helped us meet the mark was made by the new owner of the Richardson-Arnold house on Roundtop Road, Jacqueline Nunez. Her very generous donation helped us reach and surpass the amount needed to fulfill this goal. I reached out to her yesterday and thanked her personally for doing that. She also made a post on Facebook to reiterate that Bathsheba had nothing to do with the house, she was NOT a witch and was NOT a murderer and for people to leave her grave alone. That was very much appreciated as well.<p></p><p>For the record, although I do not agree with Richardson-Arnold house (a.k.a. The Conjuring House) being a tourist attraction for ghost tours, I do appreciate Mrs. Nunez's help in righting a wrong that was done to Bathsheba. As one of my friends pointed out yesterday, <span style="font-style: italic;">"Just think, this whole time the Warrens Legacy Foundation, NESPR, Tony Spera or any of the Perrons could have done what she just did, but they chose not to." </span>And that is absolutely right. So, I truly appreciate the donation that Jacqueline made yesterday. </p><p>Just think, out of all the people who have made a fortune off of this "Conjuring" franchise, be it through the film, books or televisions programs related to the home, out of all those people, only one person, who by the way is only recently affiliated with this property, chose to get involved. That speaks volumes about who is sincerely interested in setting the record straight, and who may "talk the talk," but their actions (or lack thereof) proved the opposite. Jacqueline's actions showed she actually cared enough about the situation to help us, help Bathsheba.</p><p>I have been promoting this fundraiser all over the internet since 2021, I have reached out to countless people within the paranormal field and in reality it was just regular people who took the time to donate and share to help Bathsheba. It wasn't a bunch of paranormal celebrities, it was just regular people who read about what happened and wanted to help any way that they could. And for that I am forever grateful.</p><p>I hope that moving forward this begins the new chapter, with the tide turning in favor of spreading the truth about Bathsheba far and wide, so that she will no longer be portrayed in a bad light. She was a decent human being and deserves to be respected in death, as she was in life. She deserves that much and so much more. </p><p>Thank you to all who helped us make this happen! -- J'aime Rubio, Author & Historian</p><p>Also: A BIG THANK YOU to Sandy Seoane at NRINOW News: </p><p><a href="https://nrinow.news/2021/11/04/historian-looks-to-repair-final-resting-place-of-burrillville-woman-defamed-by-conjuring-story/">https://nrinow.news/2021/11/04/historian-looks-to-repair-final-resting-place-of-burrillville-woman-defamed-by-conjuring-story/</a></p><p>and THANK YOU to Bella Pelletiere at The Valley Breeze:</p><p><a href="https://www.valleybreeze.com/news/historians-wanting-to-honor-bathsheba-sherman-raise-funds-to-repair-headstone/article_60381b78-a657-11ed-9282-ab63cb3d5841.html?fbclid=IwAR3-X7BR21Al-Wq_H-fAsnf4efD74Wzub20c9nSf01Lyry9RnIblT8LnIOI">https://www.valleybreeze.com/news/historians-wanting-to-honor-bathsheba-sherman-raise-funds-to-repair-headstone/article_60381b78-a657-11ed-9282-ab63cb3d5841.html?fbclid=IwAR3-X7BR21Al-Wq_H-fAsnf4efD74Wzub20c9nSf01Lyry9RnIblT8LnIOI</a></p><p>(Copyright 2/11/2023, www.jaimerubiowriter.com)</p><p>Photo Credit: Kent Spottswood</p><p><br /></p>J'aime Rubio, Authorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00087085042404097820noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5490891062683504396.post-66975207557751727252023-01-15T08:50:00.185-08:002023-08-30T20:22:30.562-07:00Claude Smith's Tragic Death at the Argonaut Mine<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_WlmxJAa5dqrhPQA4LH40GOFBmuji7iHOvp4x7059ocjBS1-pSQ0Xy999VEQtQGvmXJ856E0ENVT6JF6nKZXYpGg9mUTEDBpnhoOu66Ze3Jl7tRgxaZF-b2Ie9QA9Gvl40M32xgyd9OP3VcL7giYmxsu_frRFkaFFTaWRqwhcOiRrG8kVBn3svbq4/s500/argonaut%20vintage.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="344" data-original-width="500" height="440" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_WlmxJAa5dqrhPQA4LH40GOFBmuji7iHOvp4x7059ocjBS1-pSQ0Xy999VEQtQGvmXJ856E0ENVT6JF6nKZXYpGg9mUTEDBpnhoOu66Ze3Jl7tRgxaZF-b2Ie9QA9Gvl40M32xgyd9OP3VcL7giYmxsu_frRFkaFFTaWRqwhcOiRrG8kVBn3svbq4/w640-h440/argonaut%20vintage.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><p></p><p>In all the years of living in and around Amador County, I have always been enamored by the history of both the Argonaut and Kennedy Mines. In previous blogs and even in my podcast, I have dedicated a lot of time and research into sharing the horrific details of the<a href="https://dreamingcasuallypoetry.blogspot.com/2022/12/the-argonaut-mine-disaster-part-1.html"> Argonaut Mine Disaster of 1922</a>, but that wasn't the only time that the Argonaut miners had met with fatalities. In fact, there are several documented stories of deaths at the Argonaut.</p><p>In the past year, I have been spending much of my spare time working on my latest book,<a href="https://www.amazon.com/Behind-Walls-Historical-Preston-Industry/dp/1481075047?ref_=ast_author_dp"> </a><b><i><a href="https://www.amazon.com/Behind-Walls-Historical-Preston-Industry/dp/1481075047?ref_=ast_author_dp">"Down Below: A History of Deaths at the Kennedy Mine,"</a> </i></b>and so far I have discovered over 40 deaths during the years of operation at that mine that sits literally across the highway from the infamous Argonaut Mine. This book should be out in the next several months.</p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGm2_Poc6PrDOEVWDlZ7L9l3jH7hv5NJBk8ZFlBujiotuOqQz-wdPL3yzZwOioMm9oIUejiFOpJY5YmAl-fjxxOU08L4kldmRMDClCUKdeatOI6jF8Sm6hP740-28TiOhA2BcG7osiLtyhB9N5UICkgYYoQxNxYioWZL02HLHOa3xVCXYuIqofK3L7/s4029/Argonaut_Kennedy.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1145" data-original-width="4029" height="182" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGm2_Poc6PrDOEVWDlZ7L9l3jH7hv5NJBk8ZFlBujiotuOqQz-wdPL3yzZwOioMm9oIUejiFOpJY5YmAl-fjxxOU08L4kldmRMDClCUKdeatOI6jF8Sm6hP740-28TiOhA2BcG7osiLtyhB9N5UICkgYYoQxNxYioWZL02HLHOa3xVCXYuIqofK3L7/w640-h182/Argonaut_Kennedy.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><p></p><p><br /></p><p>The Argonaut Mine also saw death, not just during the time of the mine disaster itself. One such story that comes to mind is the story of Claude Smith and Harvey Jones. I briefly mentioned it in my blog on the <a href="https://dreamingcasuallypoetry.blogspot.com/2017/08/history-of-argonaut-and-kennedy-mines.html">Argonaut and Kennedy Mine history back in 2017</a>. </p><p>Because their story is just as important to share with you as that of the other miners who perished in the Argonaut Mine Disaster, I am going to share it with you in greater detail today, so that Claude and Harvey's story will no longer be forgotten.</p><p>Claude Smith was born on June 10, 1902, while Harvey "Tex" Jones was born on September 16, 1879. Not a lot can be found about Claude's personal backstory, but we do know that both he and Tex worked in the mines, and that "Tex," was obviously from Texas. </p><p>According to the Amador Dispatch, it states:</p><p><b><i>"A blast on the 5400 foot level of the Argonaut mine resulted in the death of Claude Smith and the serious injury of his companion, Harvey Jones, last Sunday morning at two o'clock. The men had completed their round of holes for blasting and Jones was engaged in igniting the fuse when the explosion took place.</i></b></p><p><b><i>Smith died instantly from the effects of the injuries that he received, his body being badly mangled. Jones, who was a short distance away, suffered fractured wrists, injuries of the chest, a dislocated knee cap, facial lacerations and the possible loss of an eye. In spite of his injuries he had the presence of mind to make his way to the station and summons assistance.</i></b></p><p><b><i>To do this he was compelled to climb a distance of about fifty feet, making his way in the darkness, his carbide lamp having been extinguished by the force of the explosion. Surprise is expressed at the ability of the man to accomplish the feat considering his physical condition."-- Amador Dispatch, 3/21/1930</i></b></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiADKud8CgUCleQTQSk6bmj-W1t6Q9DFiZ0ww3XKffXcIDue23UfyA0g1BJ5IiW7Lc_-DfI4JbmpgKdkWCvhXew2-EYNPG5uQo70hXukhF2EFZSCmEoC2jwlT18XzNLTioLAzqwZlUW2uC0KyQ-ZlSU-aBFn1eOlkz8lFv6ZJLUM9nvT_NUY1uIj5_E/s388/healdsburg_3171930.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="366" data-original-width="388" height="302" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiADKud8CgUCleQTQSk6bmj-W1t6Q9DFiZ0ww3XKffXcIDue23UfyA0g1BJ5IiW7Lc_-DfI4JbmpgKdkWCvhXew2-EYNPG5uQo70hXukhF2EFZSCmEoC2jwlT18XzNLTioLAzqwZlUW2uC0KyQ-ZlSU-aBFn1eOlkz8lFv6ZJLUM9nvT_NUY1uIj5_E/s320/healdsburg_3171930.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>Let's stop and think about this for a moment. The fact that Harvey had just survived a terrible blast from an explosion, with several severe wounds and injuries and yet he forced himself to climb up over 50 feet in complete darkness up a mine shaft speaks volumes on his will to live.<p></p><p>Another interesting thing about this story is that instead of being removed to the Jackson Hospital which was just down the road, they moved him all the way to Ione, which was 10 miles away, in order for him to be treated at the hospital at the <a href="https://prestoncastlehistory.blogspot.com/">Preston School of Industry</a>. </p><p>I have written two books on the history of the Preston School of Industry a.k.a. Preston Castle, and the only reason I can imagine they brought him there was because the local doctors in the county would often make their rounds to Preston on certain days of the week, which is possible that the local doctor was at Preston at the time of the accident and they brought Harvey there because of that reason. It is also possible that Preston's hospital had better equipment at that specific the time, in order to treat Harvey for his injuries. Due to the fact there are no documents that say either way, we are only left to speculate as to why he was brought there instead of the original hospital in Jackson.</p><p>Claude Smith's remains were brought to Daneri Mortuary where John Daneri performed the autopsy and prepared him for burial. An inquest was held on his death on the evening of Wednesday, March 19, where the verdict was reached that: </p><p><i><b>"Claude Smith came to his death on March 16, 1930, by accidentally being blasted, while working in a cross-cut on the 5400 level of the Argonaut mine, near Jackson, California."-</b></i></p><p>Claude was only 27 years old at the time of his death, on March 16, 1930**. His remains were brought back to Placer County where his wife lived, and he was buried at the Newcastle Cemetery, in Newcastle. </p><p><b><i>(** Although his headstone states his date of death was March 15, and he went to work the nightshift the night of March 15th, it was actually at 2 a.m. on March 16th that his death occurred, and the coroner's inquest report reflects that.) </i></b></p><p style="text-align: center;">Click here to visit his Find-a-Grave Memorial: <a href="https://www.findagrave.com/memorial/111639898/claude-smith">https://www.findagrave.com/memorial/111639898/claude-smith</a></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieSU52frvFXCbG_lhx2f8rmOSq91mr_LgNSEOYw3dU9UkSVbTtGnDawgs9Zos4cpODPR-7IxA-nY-uXbkzap3PdhEWbDc3C2qlEm1qe2cc0Emuw5AdGaQ5crbPDgJJHVOq4PCaybCs5AkICOb0fmUTJaVe15wgNHlnmgBw9EIdlBhztpcy3ETRIGgd/s723/claude%20smith.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="352" data-original-width="723" height="156" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieSU52frvFXCbG_lhx2f8rmOSq91mr_LgNSEOYw3dU9UkSVbTtGnDawgs9Zos4cpODPR-7IxA-nY-uXbkzap3PdhEWbDc3C2qlEm1qe2cc0Emuw5AdGaQ5crbPDgJJHVOq4PCaybCs5AkICOb0fmUTJaVe15wgNHlnmgBw9EIdlBhztpcy3ETRIGgd/s320/claude%20smith.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">(C/O Little Orange In the Big Apple; Findagrave)</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><p>Because it was believed that the explosion was caused by a defective fuse resulting in Claude's death and Harvey's critical injuries, the Argonaut Mining Company filed a lawsuit against the Coast Manufacturing and Supply Company for $20,821.00 in damages.</p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIxog7JKjXB5-sgaWzvl288TRjOaxta028vjBH-9Xb1RSPb7ztzrv0HBttN3DVP3llp5SOhnsjEueEvldoLCmcsYChdHpeqyksK1BgjqGfKOy64voUh_tQZ9mlkdE0R-nLE3p1izPIy1qDSjq5c7OEoW6nKN2Xo-igu2lM0A7bBKGXAyZOQpSKJzom/s1222/Havey%20Jones.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1222" data-original-width="771" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIxog7JKjXB5-sgaWzvl288TRjOaxta028vjBH-9Xb1RSPb7ztzrv0HBttN3DVP3llp5SOhnsjEueEvldoLCmcsYChdHpeqyksK1BgjqGfKOy64voUh_tQZ9mlkdE0R-nLE3p1izPIy1qDSjq5c7OEoW6nKN2Xo-igu2lM0A7bBKGXAyZOQpSKJzom/s320/Havey%20Jones.jpg" width="202" /></a></div>According to the Dispatch, the Argonaut Mining Company settled with Claude's widow, for the amount of $5000, and also paid Harvey Jones the same amount for compensation for his injuries, however due to the fact it was determined that Harvey would be incapable of working for the rest of his life, the Argonaut Mining Company was to pay Harvey double, in the amount of $10,000 for additional compensation. <p></p><p>Sadly, Harvey would never be able to recover enough to live a somewhat normal life, or to have any enjoyment in his newfound retirement paid to him by the mining company. Only two years after such a horrifying accident, Harvey would succumb to illness, passing away on Friday, February 12, 1932 at the Weimar Sanitarium in Weimar, California (near Auburn). </p><p>This facility was originally for the treatment and care of patients with Tuberculosis, and only in 1957 was it opened as a complete medical facility and hospital, so it is the writers belief that Harvey had "miners phthisis" or silicosis, and more than likely succumbed to that that as opposed to the original injuries from the accident.</p><p>His remains were brought back to Amador County, where he had many friends within the community. His funeral was held at Daneri Mortuary on Wednesday, February 17, 1932 with Reverand Upton Partridge conducting the services. He was later buried in Section 5 at the Jackson Public Cemetery in Jackson, but sadly, there is no marker for Mr. Jones. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0JtUAmReTYVqVks1to9VYNMZq7ZPGN7cxofIZo1Hn8Bl8rz4BjhOMYDJ60mc7PWttelHqiT0oXCvs_EKBYKheUos9N_QwNc4LZiTe73hU4GPWz71b0deGReIJO4OS2ZMsROyUeZXVn_zdz1WhLEumQtUFUvNj6WH-VDPDPGX4sYqI4iS-iEdAsUuG/s1108/160994191_1461948933.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1108" data-original-width="966" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0JtUAmReTYVqVks1to9VYNMZq7ZPGN7cxofIZo1Hn8Bl8rz4BjhOMYDJ60mc7PWttelHqiT0oXCvs_EKBYKheUos9N_QwNc4LZiTe73hU4GPWz71b0deGReIJO4OS2ZMsROyUeZXVn_zdz1WhLEumQtUFUvNj6WH-VDPDPGX4sYqI4iS-iEdAsUuG/w174-h200/160994191_1461948933.jpg" width="174" /></a></div><br /><p style="text-align: center;">Click here to visit his Find-a-Grave Memorial: <a href="https://www.findagrave.com/memorial/160994191/harvey-jones"> https://www.findagrave.com/memorial/160994191/harvey-jones</a></p><p>In ending, may these two men never be forgotten, and may their stories be known to all who seek the history of the Argonaut mine. Although these two men didn't die in the infamous Argonaut Mine Disaster that has become so widely known in history, doesn't mean that their stories are less important to share with you. I roam cemeteries all over the state and I believe everyone of those graves, markers or not, have a story to tell. I have spent the last 17 years doing that, and it brings me such peace and complete joy knowing that those people who have been forgotten for so long are now being remembered. Their names that hadn't been spoken out loud in so many years, are being talked about now. To me, this is how we keep their memories alive. I am a firm believer that we have an obligation to preserve the past, and to remember those who came before us, and with that, I choose to share those stories of the forgotten with you so that they will be forgotten no more.</p><p>Thank you for reading!</p><p>(Copyright 2023- J'aime Rubio, www.jaimerubiowriter.com) </p><p>Some of my Sources:</p><p>Amador Dispatch (3/21/1930; 5/30/1930) Healdsburg Tribune (3/17/1930); Blue Lake Advocate (3/22/1930) Findagrave Photos: (Little Orange In the Big Apple & Steve Jones); Family Search.</p><p><br /></p>J'aime Rubio, Authorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00087085042404097820noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5490891062683504396.post-13053202138619667002022-12-25T21:09:00.013-08:002023-04-16T14:20:42.659-07:00The Argonaut Mine Disaster - Part 3 <p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFGeFjDbKiHFX6BM6p6oFz9rrUYxzpMzlwhi9Oj-53celxR1TNvqWf6-k--CTOEmeNqyT_WlpxfZ-JIK_gkPnCf0VIM9x6VK2fy55TbRW6RZmXagZrhobQJAC40oywRkX-daPtHdNIlwl8HWScvy813bkeU_kRPkOPw3q8SassaPJloK7amfQWiRon/s7646/PANO_2022-08-27_12-04-11.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3454" data-original-width="7646" height="332" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFGeFjDbKiHFX6BM6p6oFz9rrUYxzpMzlwhi9Oj-53celxR1TNvqWf6-k--CTOEmeNqyT_WlpxfZ-JIK_gkPnCf0VIM9x6VK2fy55TbRW6RZmXagZrhobQJAC40oywRkX-daPtHdNIlwl8HWScvy813bkeU_kRPkOPw3q8SassaPJloK7amfQWiRon/w640-h332/PANO_2022-08-27_12-04-11.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><p></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">Going back to the</span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: georgia;"> first burials of the 46 miners discovered, those burials took place at the Protestant Cemetery (Jackson Public Cemetery, as well as at St. Patrick's Cemetery (The Catholic Cemetery), and lastly at St. Sava Serbian Cemetery. Of course, when Fessel was discovered a year later, he too, was brought to the Protestant Cemetery and interred there along with his fellow mining friends. </span></p><p><span style="background-color: white; font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></p><p><b><u><span style="font-family: georgia;">Miners Buried in the Protestant Cemetery (Jackson City Public Cemetery):</span></u></b></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><b>Charles Fitzgerald</b>, who is buried next to his best friend
James Clayton, had been living a double life for some time. </span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: georgia;">Apparently, he and
his wife, Frances had been somewhat estranged for a period of time. They had two
children, but at the time that he was working at the Argonaut, she had
been staying in Oakland. She had their daughter, while he had their son. </span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: georgia;">When
news broke that Charles was among the trapped miners, Frances rushed to support
the rescue effort and apparently when she arrived she was met by another woman
who was claiming to also be Charles’ wife.
No, he wasn’t a bigamist, but he had been living with another woman, Emily
Ludekins.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: georgia;">According to the San Francisco Call, Frances paid Emily a visit at
her cottage near the Argonaut. There was
no record of what was exactly spoken between the two women, but on September
18, 1922, the newspapers claimed that Charles' wife attempted to kill herself
by way of poison. The Sacramento newspaper said it was Frances who made the
suicide attempt. However, the San Francisco Call states that it was actually
Emily who took the poison, as she could not bear life without Charles. </span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: georgia;">Thankfully, <span style="background: white; line-height: 107%;">Amador County Physician, Edwin Eugene Endicott
came to her aid early enough and successfully saved her life. Interestingly,
Dr. Endicott, who was also the physician at the Preston School of Industry, is
buried only feet from where Charles Fitzgerald is interred at the Public
Cemetery in Jackson.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p>
</p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="background: white; line-height: 107%;"><o:p><span style="font-family: georgia;"><b>James Clayton</b>, was a native of California and only 36 years old at the time of his death. Not much is known about his life besides the fact that he served in World War I, and that he was engaged to a young widow, Myrtle Richards, who had just lost her 1st husband the year before in a similar mining accident. </span></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><b>Elmer Lee Bacheller</b>, was a native of California, and originally lived in Stockton. His occupation was listed as a Carpenter. A lodger at the Gallino Boarding House in Sutter Creek, and he was not even an employee of the mine. He had volunteered
to work the shift of a friend (fellow lodger) who went on vacation and it just so happened the shift he filled in was the day of the mine disaster.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><b>Ernie Miller,</b> the Jigger Boss on shift that night, was just 37 years old. A native of Illinois, Ernie left behind a wife and 2
children. He had survived the Speculator Mine Disaster – aka Granite Mountain Mine
Disaster in Butte Montana just a few years earlier. </span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><b>Charles & Arthur O'Berg</b>, Father and son. Charles was Level Boss that night. Charles was a native of Sweden, and Arthur was born in Washington. The saddest part of their story was that both men had never worked same shift before. Charles had only arranged a few days earlier
to have the same shift, as he was planning to retire in 1923. Charles and Arthur’s
bodies were discovered hugging onto one another up against the wall, their bodies had been fused to
one another so they were buried in the same grave.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><o:p><b>Edward William "Bill" Fessel</b> was just </o:p>44 years old. Fessel is the miner who was found one year after the other
bodies were discovered. Fessel l</span><span style="font-family: georgia;">eft behind a wife, Ruth and one son, Herbert.</span><span style="font-family: georgia;"> </span><span style="font-family: georgia;">He was a native of Germany. He had been an interpreter for the U.S. Government when he immigrated to the U.S. Prior to that he had worked as a chemist in Germany. He had also worked in the State Parks services (National Forestry) and later went into mining from the Kennedy to the Argonaut.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span style="font-family: georgia;"><b>Evan Ely </b>was </span></o:p><span style="font-family: georgia;">29 years
old, who left behind a wife and 4 children. He was a native of Texas, and the only Mormon who died in the disaster.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><b>Bert Seamans</b> was a</span><span style="font-family: georgia;"> </span><span style="font-family: georgia;">California native, former resident of Stockton, and only 38 years old.</span><span style="font-family: georgia;"> Both Seamans and Bacheller do not have a marker, and are only noted on the plaque. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSbWe9cN7mSi7nt6-pMB3tCRK1R6Q8NXblKS0L_ZIo-ArdM2OSdcKZR5HKLME1D8swhsSIbrC9gV5ADsD54H76HIf0WQMmuI47dFv03dx4heMe-DfqhNA5R43-OtUd8GyVKcgsQXKhfF1XuSjf38foIcFep_XhrEdBUZ4pf77OT5Ft676cIOlc016V/s4608/IMG_20220827_114048.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4608" data-original-width="3456" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSbWe9cN7mSi7nt6-pMB3tCRK1R6Q8NXblKS0L_ZIo-ArdM2OSdcKZR5HKLME1D8swhsSIbrC9gV5ADsD54H76HIf0WQMmuI47dFv03dx4heMe-DfqhNA5R43-OtUd8GyVKcgsQXKhfF1XuSjf38foIcFep_XhrEdBUZ4pf77OT5Ft676cIOlc016V/w480-h640/IMG_20220827_114048.jpg" width="480" /></span></a></div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"><b><u>Miners Buried in St. Patrick's Cemetery (Catholic Cemetery)</u></b></span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"><b>Peter Bagoye</b><span>, 24 years old. Native of Austria. Had only been in the U.S. for four months prior to his death. He didn't even have a chance to send for his young wife to be with him in the states.</span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"><b>Rafaelo Baldocchi</b>, was 29 years old and a native of Italy.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"><b>D. Boleri,</b> was a native of Italy.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"><b>Eugene Buscaglia</b>, was 25 years old. Eugene was living at the Buscaglia's Boarding House on Jackson Gate Road, so I am assuming he was related given the same surname. He was also listed as single in the census records. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"><b>John Caminada</b>, was 24 years old, and also a native of Italy.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"><b>Peter Cavaglieri</b>, 40 years old, a native of Italy and he was married, with three children.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"><b>Paul De Longa</b>, was a native of Austria and was 31 years of age.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"><b>A. Fazzina</b>, was 37 years old and was a native of Italy.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"><b>V. Fidele</b>, was 38 years old and a native of Italy.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"><b>Simone Francisconi</b>, age 48, and also a native of Italy.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"><b>Battista Gamboni,</b> a native of Switzerland, aged 33.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"><b>Timothy Garcia</b>, 48, native of California, a widower with 2 children.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"><b>Maurice Gianetti</b>, 44, native of Italy.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"><b>Giuseppe Giorza</b>, aged 36, married with 5 children.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"><b>Lucio Gonzales</b>, 28, native of Italy.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"><b>Manuel Kosta* (sometimes spelled Manuel Costa)</b>, 47, native of Portugal. *(some records state he was born actually on January 11, 1886, which would have made him 36 at the time of his death. WWII Draft Registry cards state that he had previously lived in the town of Ripon, San Joaquin County as a farmer before coming to Amador County to work at the Argonaut.)</span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"><b>Antonio Leon</b>, age 33, native of Spain.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"><b>Luis Leon</b>, aged 42, native of Spain.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"><b>Battista Manachino</b>, age 40, a native of Italy. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"><b>Pio Oliva</b>, native of Italy. Aged 25, his brother Luigi also worked at the mine, but played hookie that night to go to San Francisco with friends, and ultimately that saved his life. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"><b>Emanuel Olobardi</b>, age 27, native of Italy. San Francisco Call dated 9/18, Emanuel's wife spoke to the newspaper reporters that her husband had a premonition prior to the accident. </span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: georgia;">September 18, 1922 edition of the San Francisco Call states: </span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><b><span style="font-family: georgia;"><i>"It is also reported that O. Bardi (Emmanuel Olobardi),
one of the unfortunate forty-seven, expressed his belief to his wife that
“something terrible was about to happen.” He had attended a celebration of the
Italian Benevolent Society with his wife. Just before leaving her to take his place
with the 11 o’clock shift, he said he felt as though he ought to stay home,
but, like Steinman, on second thought, he determined to cast aside his fears.” </i></span></b></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"><b>Aldino Piagneri</b>, 27 years old and a native of Italy.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"><b>Giovanni Ruzzo</b>, 28 years old. Born in Sardinia.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"><b>Domenico Simonde</b>, 47 years old, native of Italy.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"><b>George Steinman</b>, 48 years old. Native of Michigan. Had been married twice, and had a total of 4 children. His 2nd wife, Linda had one child with him. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">The same newspaper clipping as noted above mentioning Emanuel Olobardi's premonition, also mentions the following:</span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"><b><i>“George Steinman, one of the imprisoned miners, told his wife just before descending to work that he feared something was going to happen. Before kissing her and their children goodbye, Steinman said, “I don’t want to go down for some reason tonight, but maybe it is just a bum hunch, and I guess I’d better go. He went and his premonition soon was to be realized. -- San Francisco Call, September 18, 1922</i></b></span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"><b>Daniele Villia,</b> 43 years old and a native of Sardinia.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"><b>Cesare Zanardi</b>, native of Italy.</span></p><p><b><u><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></u></b></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"><b></b></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjq5ZmTctIi8IBbSSaKalOMnCVN8jT2esSvOeaBJFpLeZJ2b7LIsYUHeRK66tpmLowkDIo2g5VI7lid5bYnVF1_EfItlMCp5hLMHscOb3uaegfc2itQDF3JiTGj2PJ0kwgIZzivW6HCAV8t-yth00S4m54LoyCe6fnIQ1g_hTA0yYyZflV_6O-1DEKX/s4160/20220219_144200.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3120" data-original-width="4160" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjq5ZmTctIi8IBbSSaKalOMnCVN8jT2esSvOeaBJFpLeZJ2b7LIsYUHeRK66tpmLowkDIo2g5VI7lid5bYnVF1_EfItlMCp5hLMHscOb3uaegfc2itQDF3JiTGj2PJ0kwgIZzivW6HCAV8t-yth00S4m54LoyCe6fnIQ1g_hTA0yYyZflV_6O-1DEKX/w640-h480/20220219_144200.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></b></div><b><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /><u><br /></u></span></b><p></p><p><b><u><span style="font-family: georgia;">Miner's Buried in St. Sava Serbian Cemetery </span></u></b></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"><b><i>(**Although all of the miner's names were listed multiple times in the newspapers of the time, most of their personal information was only available due to the amazing work of O. Henry Mace, who diligently searched for these miner's countries of origin for his book, "47 Down.") </i></b></span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">There are not a lot of records about these fallen miners, given the fact many of them had just come over from their home countries.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"><b>Rade Begovich,</b> 36, native of Yugoslavia.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"><b>Marko Janovich, </b>35, native of Serbia.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"><b>Milos Jovanovich, </b>36, native of Montenegro.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"><b>Jefto Kovac, </b>42, native of Herzegovina.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"><b>Rade Lajovich, </b>33, native of Montenegro.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"><b>Steve Marinovich, </b>46, native of Serbia.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"><b>John Maslesa,</b> 32, native of Herzegovina.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"><b>Todore Miljanovich, </b>37, native of Herzegovina.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"><b>Elia Pavlovich, </b>40, native of Dalmatia.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"><b>Niko Stanicich, </b>40, native of Serbia.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"><b>Mike Vujovich,</b> 28, native of Herzegovina.</span></p><p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="background-color: white; font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="background-color: white; font-family: georgia;"><b><u>The Survivors</u></b></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="background-color: white; font-family: georgia;">There were only 3 survivors of the Argonaut Mine Disaster, Clarence Bradshaw, Steve Pasalich and Mitchell Jogo.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="background-color: white; font-family: georgia;"><b>Clarence Bradshaw</b> was born in 1868, and a native of California. He lived on Stasal Avenue in Jackson near the cemetery, and was married to Sarah Bradshaw. He had been working at the Sheriff's office at one point in time. He died in 1926, around the age of 57 years old. </span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="background-color: white; font-family: georgia;">According to his naturalization papers, <b>Mitchell Joko</b> was born in Austria on December 28, 1882. By 1911, when he was naturalized, he was living at 41 Broadway street in Jackson. Mitchell died on September 3, 1923 at the age of 39.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="background-color: white; font-family: georgia;"><b>Steve Pasalich, </b>is probably my favorite character in this story, not only because this story started with him, but because he is the grandfather of a dear friend, George Pasalich, and also because my parents rented the downstairs apartment (lower level) of Steve's home on Stasal Street in Jackson, many years ago, forever tying my family to the Pasalich family. </span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="background-color: white; font-family: georgia;">Steve was born on March 25, 1890 in Yugoslavia. He came over to the United States with other family members through Ellis Island. According to the ship's manifest, each of them had about $26 on them, and they were planning to come to the west coast so they had to make that money last, or work to make money to make it to California. So, Steve would shovel snow on the railroad tracks in order to make extra money. </span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><span style="background-color: white;">One of George's funny stories about his grandfather that he shared with me was that when he grandfather had made it to Chicago, he needed to purchase some food, and went into a store and wanted to get chicken but the clerk didn't understand him because he only spoke Serbian. He had to literally play charades and mimic a chicken in order to get the clerk to understand that he was asking for chicken. </span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="background-color: white; font-family: georgia;">He eventually made it to California, and settled in Jackson. He started working at the Argonaut mine for many years, and later onto the Eureka Mine. He eventually passed away in 1964, and is buried at the St. Sava Serbian Church. His grave is in the front of the churchyard. </span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="background-color: white; font-family: georgia;">Steve's story was very emotionally moving for me knowing that he survived such a horrific disaster. George shared a story with me a few years ago about his grandfather and his tie to the miners even in death. It was after all the miners were buried, there were little individual flags left on everyone's graves. Over time, the elements had abused the flags making them become tattered and torn, so Steve decided to remove them and took them home with him, and put them in his basement for safe keeping. (This was before he turned the basement into a second residence.) </span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="background-color: white; font-family: georgia;">Soon Steve started hearing noises in the basement. The movement down there was very loud, as if someone was down there moving things around, or making loud banging sounds, even when no one was there. So he started feeling very uneasy, and he eventually he removed the flags from the basement --- and the odd occurrences suddenly stopped. </span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="background-color: white; font-family: georgia;">Later on, he would turn that basement into an apartment, which my parents ended up renting years later. Of course my parents had no paranormal experience in that house, so it was safe to say that whatever paranormal occurrences that took place there were tied to the flags and stopped when the flags were removed.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="background-color: white; font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgULB2OjWVTJgISTIwp-LSPHAz84iYTKZplgcunay45LyHTH2gUUNZQBSbLZEXzxQkVYXuVVQGE0Ke2iCv_CRQbuKUQTiqL8CsukNamC-zSrJ6iqjv3M-U41UDWJP4F065fAK994hZHfmF__4xU4V6rgcM65CV-Z_TIyA92GsGh9zxYuxPc6xP3oACf/s4403/Sat.%20August%2027,%202022%20-%20Jackson%20(103)_2.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2849" data-original-width="4403" height="414" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgULB2OjWVTJgISTIwp-LSPHAz84iYTKZplgcunay45LyHTH2gUUNZQBSbLZEXzxQkVYXuVVQGE0Ke2iCv_CRQbuKUQTiqL8CsukNamC-zSrJ6iqjv3M-U41UDWJP4F065fAK994hZHfmF__4xU4V6rgcM65CV-Z_TIyA92GsGh9zxYuxPc6xP3oACf/w640-h414/Sat.%20August%2027,%202022%20-%20Jackson%20(103)_2.JPG" width="640" /></span></a></div><u><span style="font-family: georgia;"><p class="MsoNormal"><u><br /></u></p>Conclusion</span></u><p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="background-color: white; font-family: georgia;">When all was
said and done regarding the cause of the Argonaut Mine Disaster, there were no real answers. The cause of the fire was never
determined as a certainty, and it also brought up so many safety violations
that had been overlooked.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="background: white; color: black; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">The
Report of Governor Stephen’s Committee of Inquiry on the Argonaut Mine
Disaster, published in Volume 114 of the Engineering and Mining Journal, states:<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b><i><span style="background: white; color: black; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">“Origin of Fire – The evidence given regarding the cause of
the fire leads to no one definite fact. <o:p></o:p></span></span></i></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b><i><span style="background: white; color: black; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">The following possibilities have all been taken into consideration:<o:p></o:p></span></span></i></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b><i><span style="background: white; color: black; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">Incendiarism; Defective electric wiring; carelessness with
cigar or cigarette stub; carbide lamp or candle.<o:p></o:p></span></span></i></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b><i><span style="background: white; color: black; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">The witness Mitchell Jogo, who stepped off the skip
immediately after the discovery of the fire, and remained there with the hope
of being able to do something toward extinguishing it, states that while there
were two sets of timber, or possibly three, burning, the larger portion of the
fire seemed to be coming from the manway and spreading across the shaft from
there. This would warrant the belief that the fire had started in the manway.
This manway, besides carrying the ladder for the men moving up and down the
shaft, when traveling without the skip, contains the electric-power wires
carrying 2,400 volts, and also the electric lighting wires in the mine, as well
as the telephone, compressed air-line, and water pump column. If the origin of
the fire was either incendiary or caused by defective wiring, this would be the
natural place for it to start. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></span></i></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b><i><span style="background: white; color: black; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">From all the evidence considered, your committee is unable to
arrive at a definite conclusion as to the origin of the fire, which still
remains in doubt. Of the possible cause, as previously stated, the first two,
incendiarism, or defective wiring – seem to be the most acceptable.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></i></b></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><span style="background-color: white;">Going back to my personal connection, I will always feel tied to this story from the time my dad brought home that framed photograph and hung it on our hallway wall at our home so many years ago, down to the present day. </span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><span style="background-color: white;">That day, so many years ago, started my passion to learn about local history and it also triggered the empathy and compassion I feel for those I research and write about. I want to tell their stories for them, since they are not able to do that themselves. I feel everyone has a story to tell, and I feel honored to be the one who gets to do that for them.</span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><span style="background-color: white;">This August 2022, marked the 100 year anniversary of this tragic event. Roland and I met my father at the cemetery and we paid our respects to all 47 fallen miners, and the 3 survivors who lived to tell the tale. </span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: georgia;">Sadly, we will never truly know what or whom started the fire that killed 47 miners, and destroyed many lives that night in August of 1922. We can speculate, but we will never have a definitive answer. But we can always pay our respects and share their stories, so that they will never be forgotten.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: georgia;">May those who perished that day rest in peace.</span></p><span style="font-family: georgia;">(Copyright, J'aime Rubio 2022 - <a href="http://www.jaimerubiowriter.com">www.jaimerubiowriter.com</a> )</span><p></p><div><span style="color: #2b00fe; font-family: georgia;"><b><i>This blog was the product of a very personal interest in this part of local history going back to my childhood. I spent a lot of time and took a very extensive deep dive stemming from hundreds of old newspaper clippings, old reports from the time, and research cited and sourced by both Larry Cenotto and O. Henry Mace, who both did amazing work researching the Argonaut Mine. For an even more in depth look at this disaster I strongly suggest you check out "47 Down: The 1922 Argonaut Gold Mine Disaster" by Author, O.Henry Mace. It is a fantastic, and very in-depth read. </i></b></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div>J'aime Rubio, Authorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00087085042404097820noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5490891062683504396.post-61728186756138238412022-12-25T18:46:00.005-08:002023-04-10T19:30:26.438-07:00The Argonaut Mine Disaster - Part 2 <p><span style="font-family: georgia;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal"></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6tekwfG0cgdJobYTcYedUb2Lle4TOFVGkg0PtIS1jhmGtNekqzP3aN_EQzpnSHZtVXsmL7MW93pCRHcLKi-s_KnmgvlxqqfggE2E8CHTzhEjE4U2Bwq2ZRyylWWViSQx9xzrkSFTNpbFsVG2hc6nJv7C0SONfYe7lxkicbqXwvCGzxMM2h_rWV6b-/s750/61fd7918c8b7c.image.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><img border="0" data-original-height="601" data-original-width="750" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6tekwfG0cgdJobYTcYedUb2Lle4TOFVGkg0PtIS1jhmGtNekqzP3aN_EQzpnSHZtVXsmL7MW93pCRHcLKi-s_KnmgvlxqqfggE2E8CHTzhEjE4U2Bwq2ZRyylWWViSQx9xzrkSFTNpbFsVG2hc6nJv7C0SONfYe7lxkicbqXwvCGzxMM2h_rWV6b-/w400-h320/61fd7918c8b7c.image.jpg" width="400" /></span></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">Possible Staged Photograph</span></td></tr></tbody></table><p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="background: white; color: black; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="background: white; color: black; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">The
photograph you see above is the "official" photograph of the final message from the miners of the Argonaut Mine that has been circulated all these years, although this is not entirely accurate. In reality, it is actually
believed to be a staged photo, made after the miners bodies has been found, and
done so by a photographer for the San Francisco News by photographer, W. Aird
MacDonald. You see, there are two photographs, and one appears to be more
authentic than the other. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="background: white; color: black; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">How do I
know this? <o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="background: white; color: black; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">Well,
this information comes from the research of the one and only late Amador County
Historian, Larry Cenotto which was published in the Ledger-Dispatch in 1997. He
happened to stumble upon an old photograph in the archives over 25 years ago, that
appeared to be similar but not exact, which prompted his further investigation.
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="background: white; color: black; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="background: white; color: black; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"></span></span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCaCHJjWnghJZNojjHf3bZU0JJUK7qPc2tC10knNHblHiDALqr96V3bQhjqF8BL31ZZeHdnUgew-Ox81q1g1dOwWSFVih2h7G_XMenPAv9TkPqiezt1qXwELdNC3EJeBgMMtsJYnTZ3jlmkDs3_BLJVUvrvMixI8McY805KFI5fNZrn9oceTSfDwPD/s919/last%20message.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><img border="0" data-original-height="919" data-original-width="713" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCaCHJjWnghJZNojjHf3bZU0JJUK7qPc2tC10knNHblHiDALqr96V3bQhjqF8BL31ZZeHdnUgew-Ox81q1g1dOwWSFVih2h7G_XMenPAv9TkPqiezt1qXwELdNC3EJeBgMMtsJYnTZ3jlmkDs3_BLJVUvrvMixI8McY805KFI5fNZrn9oceTSfDwPD/w496-h640/last%20message.jpg" width="496" /></span></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">Original Photograph</span></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="background: white; color: black; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><br /></span></span></span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="background: white; color: black; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><i>“The last
message written by the entombed 47 miners”</i> was written below the photograph, with
a stamped imprint on the back that said, <i>“Jackson Studio, Jackson, Cal.”</i> It was
believed that a local photographer had the chance to photograph the original message
before MacDonald. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="background: white; color: black; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">After
carefully analyzing the photo, Cenotto determined that the photo found in
Amador County archives was more than likely the original photo of the writing on
the wall left by the miners, which was clearly made under duress by the look of
the writing. </span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="background: white; color: black; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">The cleaner, more visibly clear writing that was circulated by the
news media which spells out Fessel’s name on it, had to have been staged later
and it clearly done with more precision, which would be the last thing a miner,
choking on carbon monoxide gases, fearing for his life in the dark would be
doing. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="background: white; color: black; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">The photo
now believed to be the original message, only states the words: “3 o’clock gas
getting strong, 4 o’clock Fez,” as if the writer of the message perhaps lost
consciousness prior to finishing his inscription on the wall. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="background: white; color: black; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">But why
stage the photo? <o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="background: white; color: black; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">Cenotto
suspected that something had happened to the original writing, which forced
them to recreate it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Another question to
be asked is, how did Fessel’s body end up on the 4650 level, far away from and
outside of the barricade where the other miners were discovered, if he had in
fact scribbled that message on the wall?<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="background: white; color: black; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">Again,
Cenotto believed that since Fessel was working alone on the 4650 level that
night doing timber work, which was confirmed by those who worked at the mine
that night, he would have had no idea what was going on in the other part of
the mine and had no chance to make an escape before the fumes and the smoke
reached him. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="background: white; color: black; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><i><b>“The
message, therefore was that “F:z” or “Fezzel” was not with them and rescuers
need look for him elsewhere.”—</b></i>Larry Cenotto’s quote.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="background: white; color: black; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">Another
thing I would like to point out is that I personally enlarged copies of Bill
Fessel’s naturalization papers and his draft registry card, and I looked at his
signature on both documents. Despite what some claim, including Fessel's son who was interviewed and claimed that Fessel signed his
name with two ‘z’s is actually inaccurate. In fact, both signatures I examined, signed by Fessel, were signed in cursive, and showed the
letter “s” twice, not z. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="background: white; color: black; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">So, there were a lot of questions here. From the extra brass tag found among the 46 miners behind the barricade that didn't match any of the miners on duty that night, to the extra set of clothing discovered in the change house, and then the mystery behind the two photographs of the miner's message, it appeared that the more I dug into this story, the more questions I was coming up with, rather than answers.</span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="background: white; color: black; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">Still, I kept digging....</span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="background-color: white; font-family: georgia;">There
were inquiries & hearings, plus speculation galore. Some argued they should
have went down the Muldoon shaft to reach the men in time, some argued that
they should have sent the skip down to at least attempt to rescue some of the
men, despite the fact that eventually the phone and bell system was disrupted
by the fire, and thus the hoist man could not have known when to lift or lower
the skip to and from the men, in order to provide a clean escape for them.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="background: white; color: black; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">When it
came to pointing fingers at someone, some newspapers insinuated that Fessel started the fire,
as if he had conveniently snuck off into the night. Because he was German, had
been an interpreter for the United States Government for a while and wasn’t
always a “miner,” there was gossip that he could have been a spy. </span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="background: white; color: black; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">Others
insinuated that perhaps it was the work of communists which at the time went by the name the Industrial Workers of the World. There
were other insinuations that the fire could have been started by a “mystery
person” who may have escaped out of a drift at the 2500 foot level that exited
out near the creek. That could have very well been the case, given the extra set of clothing and "secret" brass tag that the mine company wouldn't divulge whom it belonged to.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="background: white; color: black; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">According to O. Henry Mace's research, Ben
Sanguinetti claimed that there had been footprints found on a drift leading out
of the mine and down to the creek, but no one ever did any further inquiry into
this possible lead, and it was left to be forgotten. </span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="background: white; color: black; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">Why no one bothered to investigate
that lead makes me wonder about the whole thing all together. As much as I hated to think it, it almost started sounding like an inside job. But then I found another lead that took me in another direction completely.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="background-color: white; font-family: georgia;">A New Theory</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="background-color: white; font-family: georgia;">I too
have another possible theory, which could be completely unfounded, yet I would
still like to toss it into the ring with the others. Only 8 months earlier, the
Argonaut had been robbed by red bandana wearing bandits, and only two of eight
men were eventually caught. The robbers took approximately $60,000 which was in
gold amalgam.</span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: georgia;"> </span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: georgia;">Could this fire have been
related? Could someone, perhaps have come back to cause more trouble at the
mine?</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="background: white; color: black; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">The
reason I say that is because for one, Hiram Baker, although later acquitted
could have had a score to settle with the mine, after having been through the
ringer in the newspapers and in his much publicized trial. When Hiram was
arrested he was with a man known only as Frank Lynch. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="background: white; color: black; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">I find it
interesting that Frank was never mentioned again in the clippings about the
robbery, only Hiram. And if Hiram was acquitted, what happened to the other
guy? <o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="background: white; color: black; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">I
couldn’t find any convictions noted for the robbery. So, I started digging
deeper. It turns out that<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Frank was
actually Arthur Welling, of Indiana, and he was a known safe cracker and
specialized in explosives. He was already on the run for robbing Western Oil
Refining Company in Indiana, and was originally caught with his friend, Edward
Stevens at the Omni Severin Hotel when they were found in the check room with
nitroglycerin, more than likely ready to crack open the hotel’s safe.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="background: white; color: black; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">During an
escape from the County Jail on July 4, 1919, Arthur helped 24 other inmates slip
away into the night, and into freedom. When he was caught in California and held
on charges for the mine robbery, Sheriff Lucot kept him in the Amador County
jail until he was extradited to Michigan City, Indiana where he was sentenced
to 14 years in the penitentiary for his previous crimes.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Lynch a.k.a. Welling, had friends everywhere,
so how do we know that one of Arthur’s buddies didn’t pay back the mine for
their friend having been caught and being sent to the big house? We don’t. This is why I wonder if possibly this fire was started by Welling's friends.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxuSPF--13oycsmi_-8VxmwaoLHXi_QJF242ADHFeWvkb3h4-_lNOskznv-d8QoQV9VftPsRCUUlmKmL9MYBd-FAUm-fz4TPk7VFAHE5QlNFg1VD58wX1CmcTqCrTeTKBqevabwb1BCxDpGPSDLAQKFqCXXDrCUITrHTc-6AO0hoFUccnBbGA9F_Da/s408/IMG_20221225_161055_01.jpg" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><img border="0" data-original-height="343" data-original-width="408" height="269" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxuSPF--13oycsmi_-8VxmwaoLHXi_QJF242ADHFeWvkb3h4-_lNOskznv-d8QoQV9VftPsRCUUlmKmL9MYBd-FAUm-fz4TPk7VFAHE5QlNFg1VD58wX1CmcTqCrTeTKBqevabwb1BCxDpGPSDLAQKFqCXXDrCUITrHTc-6AO0hoFUccnBbGA9F_Da/s320/IMG_20221225_161055_01.jpg" width="320" /></span></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">Only Known Picture of Bill Fessel <br />(Courtesy of the Ryan Family)</span></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="background: white; color: black; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">Still, no matter what theories were being thrown around, the blame kept going back to Fessel. Those who knew him, knew that wasn’t
possible. That didn’t stop some law enforcement agencies to put out APB’s to be
on the lookout for anyone matching Fessel’s description. Even a year to the day
of the disaster, there were newspapers claiming that there were sightings of
Fessel who was allegedly on the run. <o:p></o:p></span></span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="background: white; color: black; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">Again,
locals who knew him didn’t believe it one minute, and were adamant that he
would eventually be found in the mine. Still, the whispers and the rumors were
too much for Fessel’s wife, who basically became a hermit and moved up to live
with her mother in Pine Grove, where she remained the rest of her life.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="background: white; color: black; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">On
September 31, 1923, after flushing out the mine, at the 4650 level, the remains
of the 47<sup>th</sup> miner, Edward William "Bill" Fessel was discovered and the newspapers and everyone
else who had made slanderous insinuations about Fessel, had to eat crow.<br /><o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="background: white; color: black; font-family: georgia; line-height: 107%;"></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="background: white; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">Although
there was no forensic way to determine for certain who it was, it was believed
to be the body of Bill Fessel, given the fact he was the last miner who had not
been identified with the recovered bodies, and they were one body short of the
total of miners on duty that night. </span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="background: white; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">A
local dentist examined the skull of the body that had been found, and he
believed it was Fessel, based on the missing molars and still present wisdom
teeth that he had noticed during an examination a few years prior at a dental
visit. The coroner determined it to be
the remains of Edward William Fessel and he took his rightful place besides his
fallen friends at the public cemetery in Jackson. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="background: white; font-family: georgia; line-height: 107%;"></span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1KOzC-rRCwA2eNngtVGsDodfInZZhnF0-KLcfeLbYVEcNp1srsrGcZuyJuDKRkDEKKFO3viI3wpZpSuzq0BHdiiMmvOtQ3Y-SVn2k2oD0HPRRDnua72w5NlXjykZYoseqZvcwnjQ1k_e3lv2weYmtxL3RLYzHNaMYQ-7bT7hfnWXdoMKMFBRAC-An/s3832/FESSEL.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3832" data-original-width="2755" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1KOzC-rRCwA2eNngtVGsDodfInZZhnF0-KLcfeLbYVEcNp1srsrGcZuyJuDKRkDEKKFO3viI3wpZpSuzq0BHdiiMmvOtQ3Y-SVn2k2oD0HPRRDnua72w5NlXjykZYoseqZvcwnjQ1k_e3lv2weYmtxL3RLYzHNaMYQ-7bT7hfnWXdoMKMFBRAC-An/w288-h400/FESSEL.jpg" width="288" /></span></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">The Grave of Bill Fessel </span></td></tr></tbody></table><p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;"><b><a href="https://dreamingcasuallypoetry.blogspot.com/2022/12/the-argonaut-mine-disaster-part-3.html">TO BE CONTINUED..... TO READ PART 3 (CLICK HERE!) </a></b></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><span>(Copyright, J'aime Rubio 2022 www.j</span>aimerubiowriter.com) </span></p>J'aime Rubio, Authorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00087085042404097820noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5490891062683504396.post-53473069932636417692022-12-25T17:58:00.011-08:002023-04-16T13:53:34.848-07:00The Argonaut Mine Disaster - Part 1 <p><span style="font-family: georgia;"> </span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWdTDkPXUAoyrJ9onqqsE_mB9BSK-n2Nl0iFKFrprug_R3IbfzE0S0eG_8VKzkrR06hOzHfeJinLmcbj18BO2XXc-OaxbA3E4_BpO0Uelhd62A7sjizcAxJyUojkny3W1X3vBhfwDhB5n0xSTt9LyDTzmSD7g3j4B0ENMzi57yKUFPVNuCb-fnWR0b/s3215/Sat.%20August%2027,%202022%20-%20Jackson%20(42)_2.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3215" data-original-width="3023" height="404" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWdTDkPXUAoyrJ9onqqsE_mB9BSK-n2Nl0iFKFrprug_R3IbfzE0S0eG_8VKzkrR06hOzHfeJinLmcbj18BO2XXc-OaxbA3E4_BpO0Uelhd62A7sjizcAxJyUojkny3W1X3vBhfwDhB5n0xSTt9LyDTzmSD7g3j4B0ENMzi57yKUFPVNuCb-fnWR0b/w380-h404/Sat.%20August%2027,%202022%20-%20Jackson%20(42)_2.JPG" width="380" /></span></a></div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: georgia;">When I was about 10 years old, my dad came home with a large
framed photo, which had a copy of the Stockton Record’s front page about the Argonaut
Mine Disaster of 1922. There was something different about this particular
picture, as there was a super imposed photograph of the miners on the newspaper
headline front page. My dad hung it in the hallway of our home in Pioneer, and
every day I would walk through that hallway and stop and look at the
photograph. Sometimes I would stand there and read the article, while other
times I would stand there and stare at the faces in the photograph, wondering
if I was looking at one of the miners who had perished in the mine disaster so
many years ago. </span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: georgia;">My dad’s sincere
interest of the history of the Argonaut Mine Disaster piqued a genuine interest
in local history as a whole for me, especially Amador County history. Over the
years, there have been books, blogs, articles and even some documentaries on this subject, covering
the horrific event that took place in 1922. Today, I wanted to share with you
my investigation into this somber event. This story is very special to me, as I
feel I have a genuinely personal attachment. </span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: georgia;">Come with me as we go back 100 years to Jackson, California,
where we will take a deep dive down into the Argonaut Mine. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Let’s take a step by step look at what
occurred in chronological order.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHWCaKhTkAf6PdlnV3ilr3XN0xBMC4EAeyDBLb2rCmzSiYJ_JxuWfuJHxD03RV6fod9um3MxFjxojuXWEUwDyihEL4fbP4DAhJXZYblb52O8Ev9OqE17Uf1T87HWRnn5SJ30qgAxfnHCgwxXqqqM3DSrTzE1Mgfqj4Wlqw-zkmZLabGy0EJa_Pek0O/s640/argonaut%20men.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><img border="0" data-original-height="444" data-original-width="640" height="313" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHWCaKhTkAf6PdlnV3ilr3XN0xBMC4EAeyDBLb2rCmzSiYJ_JxuWfuJHxD03RV6fod9um3MxFjxojuXWEUwDyihEL4fbP4DAhJXZYblb52O8Ev9OqE17Uf1T87HWRnn5SJ30qgAxfnHCgwxXqqqM3DSrTzE1Mgfqj4Wlqw-zkmZLabGy0EJa_Pek0O/w452-h313/argonaut%20men.jpg" width="452" /></span></a></div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: georgia;">On August 27, 1922, approximately 10:00 p.m. the skip tender
at the Argonaut Mine, Steve Pasalich, was working his shift for the night. </span><span style="font-family: georgia;">Besides being the skip tender, Steve
Pasalich had the duty of dropping off the lunch buckets on
each level of the mine, later he would come back after the miners had eaten and
retrieve their lunch buckets and bring them back up to the surface again.</span></p><p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: georgia;">The shift boss that night was Clarence Bradshaw, he was the
main person in charge that night. Below him in rank would be the Jigger Boss,
and below him would be the Level Boss.
That night the Jigger Boss was
Ernie Miller. Just after lunch, Bradshaw
asked Pasalich and another miner, Mitchell Joko, to go with him to drop off
waste from the chute and drop it to the 4,200 level. As they prepared the ore
cart to go underneath the overhead chute, as they were pulling out the stopboard
the falling rock pushed through and broke the stopboard. </span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: georgia;">This was when Joko offered to go down to the 4,600 level to pick up wood to build another stop board for the chute, before they were to go back up on the skip again. Bradshaw eventually grew irritated, waiting longer than he had expected for Joko, and that is when he and Pasalich smelled smoke and haze in the air.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: georgia;"></span></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwUBJPkoeeeuOzWTrGr0XbyiqUtwdN_qXs6CgIDnVNfhkPEEv_N_oW0w5Ni2gpWHGDFw-AdwjfQYYVvypKxaeQwrHgAkNeu7R_Tie_cwNSW12Xgf1n1dfTTe23GF0gOyqeUkiUCuQgpkC-_Y1q5nvZhjVxpTJcc7-3OJCbdaxcqnSvz7eNuvQmADmB/s579/pasalich.jpg" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><img border="0" data-original-height="579" data-original-width="338" height="297" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwUBJPkoeeeuOzWTrGr0XbyiqUtwdN_qXs6CgIDnVNfhkPEEv_N_oW0w5Ni2gpWHGDFw-AdwjfQYYVvypKxaeQwrHgAkNeu7R_Tie_cwNSW12Xgf1n1dfTTe23GF0gOyqeUkiUCuQgpkC-_Y1q5nvZhjVxpTJcc7-3OJCbdaxcqnSvz7eNuvQmADmB/w174-h297/pasalich.jpg" width="174" /></span></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">Skip Tender, Steve Pasalich</span></td></tr></tbody></table><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: georgia;">The San Francisco Call reported Bradshaw’s experience, <i><b>“By a
margin of a few minutes , Shift Boss, Clarence Bradshaw, Steve Pasalich and
Michael Jago [SIC] escaped from the Argonaut mine before the fire made egress
possible. Bradshaw says he and his two companions were at the 4200 foot level
at 11:40 o’clock the night of the fire when he smelled smoke. Without an
instant’s delay he called to the two miners to accompany him up the shaft. The
smoke became thicker and thicker as they ascended and at the 300 [SIC: 3000] foot level they were almost overcome by heat.”</b></i> – SF CALL, 9/18/1922<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: georgia;">According to Bradshaw, the men wrapped their coats around
their heads to keep the smoke from getting to their lungs while they ascended
up to the fresh air from the surface which was just about at the 3000 level.
You see, the fire was just below the 3000 level, and because of the ventilation
system, which was a large fan installed at the head of a nearby mine shaft
known as the Muldoon, which had been an old abandoned mine that the Argonaut
was using, by the fan pulling the air from the Argonaut, it kept fresh air
running through the mine and the drifts for the miners, moving it from the
collar of the main shaft down and then back up to Muldoon. </span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: georgia;">Because of the fire, now the smoke was being drawn down deep into the mine,
instead of up. So once the men on the skip had passed the fire, they were able
to breathe again, but then they realized that all of the men below them, were
now going to suffer from carbon monoxide poisoning due to the smokey air being drawn down the shaft into the deepest parts of the mine, where the 47 miners
were working that night.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: georgia;">According to author, O. Henry Mace's research, Jigger Boss, Ernie Miller caught the scent of smoke at the
4800 level and quickly phoned to the Hoist house that there was smoke coming
down the shaft. When Bradshaw picked up the line at the 2000 level he warned
him that the shaft was on fire and they were trying to put it out. The last
words they heard Ernie Miller say was “all right,” and he hung up the line. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: georgia;">This is where it gets tricky, we will never truly know exactly
what happened after that. We can speculate all we want, but we can only base our opinions on what was found after rescuers
recovered the miner’s remains. One would like to assume that Miller at least
attempted to get his men out through ventilation rises in the Muldoon shaft
which was supposed to be their “emergency exit” but they stopped at the 4350
level and ended up barricading themselves in a cross-cut, which leads us to
believe the air was just so bad they had no other choice but to bunker down and
wish for the best. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: georgia;">Another reason I believe this is exactly what happened is
because this had all happened before to Ernie Miller. You see, he was a
survivor of another horrible mine disaster only five years prior. The infamous
<a href="https://www.minememorial.org/history/intro.htm"><u><b>Granite Mountain Mine disaster in Butte, Montana in 1917.</b><b> </b></u> </a></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6iS426mm6eNT01Aoi4tYOyLSyRpMa2eABQBqNg3NSpDIe61hHwVvhmGiwIsUKafgFrYojiskh8pV8rVvBWC5QxJRsgjZnJN7N4nwZ2u4uijJT8Vc4Kd3Djx3RDioyNbMhZhXeRDCZ8QVAPARLFycdlCG2qnkVPqbnL_W4gPJbLsSGMpT-YWQNBal_/s516/CC19170609.1.1-3527-429-1757-2064-439w.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><img border="0" data-original-height="516" data-original-width="439" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6iS426mm6eNT01Aoi4tYOyLSyRpMa2eABQBqNg3NSpDIe61hHwVvhmGiwIsUKafgFrYojiskh8pV8rVvBWC5QxJRsgjZnJN7N4nwZ2u4uijJT8Vc4Kd3Djx3RDioyNbMhZhXeRDCZ8QVAPARLFycdlCG2qnkVPqbnL_W4gPJbLsSGMpT-YWQNBal_/s320/CC19170609.1.1-3527-429-1757-2064-439w.jpg" width="272" /></span></a></div><p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: georgia;">In that experience, a fire had ignited when a
miner’s carbide lamp got a little too close to a oily paraffin paper that was
insulating a three ton electric cable that had been brought down the shaft to
complete, of all things, a sprinkler system. When the paper ignited the fire
spread quickly to the timbers of the framework in the shaft and before they
knew it, it was uncontrollable.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: georgia;">A little over half of the miners escaped, but 168 weren’t so
lucky. Most died from the carbon monoxide poisoning, not so much the fire
itself, but there were two groups of men in different parts on the mine, who
had built bulkheads to create a makeshift barrier between themselves and the
carbon monoxide from the smoke. </span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: georgia;">Both groups were eventually rescued. The first
group after 38 hours, and the last group after 50 hours. It was said that Ernie
Miller was among the men in the last group, which only 6 of the 8
survived.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>According to reports from his
family, it was Miller who helped his co-workers to build that bulkhead in the crosscut,
something done in such a similar fashion at the Argonaut that leads me to
believe it was Ernie who tried to save the men. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: georgia;">Going back to the story, By the time Bradshaw, Pasalich and
Joko got up the shaft of the mine, they quickly tried to think of ways to put
out the fire. They told Virgilio Garbarini to let them to open the sump
reservoir and dump it down the mine to extinguish the fire. He agreed and they
went to work.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> According to reports, </span>the valve hadn’t been opened in
a long time and it had become rusted shut, so it took a lot of muscle and help
from a sledgehammer to break the valve and let the water do its job. But once
the water had been poured, the makeshift rescue crew realized the fire was
still burning in adjacent drifts of the mine, where the water couldn’t reach.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: georgia;">Different people came and tried to convince Garbarini to
reverse the fan on the Muldoon shaft or turn it off completely. Garbarini tried
to explain that by doing so, the fire would then burn upwards and completely
decimate the main shaft itself, destroying any chance of firefighters reaching
the fire deep inside the mine. Garbarini
wasn’t just the superintendent of the mine, he had been the master mechanic who
designed the working mechanisms of the mine itself back in 1909. He knew the
mine better than anyone. He was adamant
that the fan not be touched in anyway.</span></p><p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: georgia;">The rescue workers even at their best effort
could not have enough time with the right breathing apparatuses to reach the
miners in time without risking their own safety due to the overwhelming amount of </span><span style="font-family: georgia;">smoke to the toxic carbon monoxide gases</span><span style="font-family: georgia;">. That, and by shutting off the
fan it would allow the Argonaut main shaft to completely be destroyed. </span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: georgia;">This was when they decided to make their rescue attempt via
the Kennedy Mine.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhR--E3fNCmOLgTTPtlhwV3v2N5KIDHuTnOg14k6A-sxjc2Mt0XjPYKLRQZM_0dC45NBVEiGMf1iPb298WXqTWIQhmFjLV1eCE6jKOCbiU-WNgymBSgTF93sMYGN11b5XaioE_X6XaGF_K1iC-HBZKVMjv6fugpaKHGBTuEk6UeDI_wkoSJ-q1m7SD8/s720/Kennedy%20Mine_far%20away.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><img border="0" data-original-height="505" data-original-width="720" height="280" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhR--E3fNCmOLgTTPtlhwV3v2N5KIDHuTnOg14k6A-sxjc2Mt0XjPYKLRQZM_0dC45NBVEiGMf1iPb298WXqTWIQhmFjLV1eCE6jKOCbiU-WNgymBSgTF93sMYGN11b5XaioE_X6XaGF_K1iC-HBZKVMjv6fugpaKHGBTuEk6UeDI_wkoSJ-q1m7SD8/w400-h280/Kennedy%20Mine_far%20away.jpg" width="400" /></span></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">Kennedy Mine, just across from the Argonaut</span></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: georgia;">You see, the Argonaut and the Kennedy mines were connected
at one point up until a fire occurred in 1919, which took months to burn out.
The only way the two mining companies could figure out how to stop the fire,
was to flush both mines out. After that,
the two companies decided it would be better to seal off the connections to
each other. Now they would need to reconnect the two mines in order to make a last-ditch
rescue attempt before it was too late.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><span style="background: white; line-height: 107%;"><span>It was
surveying work done years prior by Civil Engineer, Walter Ephraim Downs that directed
the rescuers where to dig through to the Argonaut mine shaft in an attempt to
rescue the trapped miners. </span></span><span style="background-color: white;">(On a
side note, Mr. Downs was the son of Robert Carleton Downs,’ superintendent of
the Union Mine, later known as the Lincoln Mine in Sutter Creek and owner of the Hanford
& Down’s stores which were in Sutter Creek, Jackson and Volcano.
Walter Ephraim Downs’ brother, Fred, tragically drowned in the Preston
Reservoir in Ione, in 1902.)</span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="background: white; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">It was decided
that the rescue crew would go in through the Kennedy and reconnect the two
mines via the Kennedy’s 3600 drift with the crosscut near the Argonaut’s 4200
level. Unfortunately, this would be a very difficult job as the
mud, debris, and compression from the flooding of the mines just a few years
before had caused much of the connecting passes to collapse. </span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="background: white; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">There were still
others convinced they go through the Muldoon shaft to save the miners, which
was shot down each time. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="background: white; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">At one
point they decided to also go from the 3900 level at the Kennedy and work towards Argonaut’s
4600 level, as it appeared their first attempt via the 3600 level was not going
fast enough. Many of the men working in the mines, trying to get through were
relatives of the trapped miners, including other employees of the mine itself
as well, one of those rescue workers was none other than Steve Pasalich, the skip tender who barely made it out alive with Bradshaw and Joko. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="background: white; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">On
September 18, 1922, exactly 23 days from the time of the actual fire starting
in the mine, the bodies of the miners were discovered at the 4350 level. They
had barricaded themselves in a crosscut using timbers and chinking the gaps
with the clothes off their backs, to block the poisonous gas from seeping
through. When the bodies were discovered, only 46 were found, along with a
message written on the wall of the crosscut. It appeared to be a message from
Bill Fessel, letting the rescuers know how long they were awake before the
fumes overtook them.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="background: white; line-height: 107%;"><i><b><span style="font-family: georgia;">“3
o’clock, gas getting strong, 4 o’clock, Fessel.” </span></b></i></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="background: white; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">The rescue team now had to work at figuring out how to
bring the bodies back to the surface without further damaging the remains and
then work on identifying them. They brought in gurneys with rubber bags to
place each miner into and they were carried up the drift and into the adjacent
connecting tunnels and up the skip on the Kennedy Mine side. Each body was transported up to the Argonaut
and placed in the mill, as a makeshift mortuary until all the bodies could be
recovered.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="background: white; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">Besides
discovering the bodies, they also had to bring up the belongings of the miners,
such as clothing. Some of the miners
had their brass tags with their individual miner’s number on their person, but
some of them did not have their tags. In fact, many of the tags were never
found, leading mine employees to have to identify the bodies visually. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="background: white; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">According
to the book, <b><i>"47 Down" by O. Henry Mace</i></b>, there was another brass tag found that
did not match any of the miners on duty. He stated that not only did the mine
company never divulge the number of the tag, but they also never divulged the
person whose name was assigned to that number. If that wasn’t odd enough, Mace mentions that the
rescue crew also found a ring within the belongings, but this was a
personalized ring with the initials “J.S.N” which none of the miner’s names
matched. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="background: white; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">Mace also
mentions in his book, that when the foreman and volunteers went to collect the
miner’s effects from the change house, they discovered 48 changes of clothes
hanging on hooks, not 47. </span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="background: white; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">So, who did this extra pair of clothes belong to? </span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="background: white; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">And
who was this unidentified person’s tag discovered that the mine never wanted to
mention? <o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal">
</p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="background: white; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">This is
where it gets interesting. --------</span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="background-color: white;"><b><a href="https://dreamingcasuallypoetry.blogspot.com/2022/12/the-argonaut-mine-disaster-part-2.html"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;"> TO BE CONTINUED..... TO READ PART 2 (CLICK HERE) </span></a></b></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="background-color: white; font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><b><span style="font-family: georgia;">Copyright, J'aime Rubio 2022, www.jaimerubiowriter.com</span></b></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: georgia;">Special Thanks to George Pasalich for all your help!</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: georgia;">***Photograph of frame photo is the actual photograph/newspaper that my father had hanging in the hallway of our house when I was growing up. Dad brought it to the Jackson Cemetery on the 100th anniversary of the Argonaut Mine Disaster, this year, and we brought it to the graves of the fallen miners to pay our respects to all 47 men. This is a photograph Roland took of that very framed picture I grew up looking at, the same picture that inspired me to have a life-long interest in this piece of Amador County history. </span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p>J'aime Rubio, Authorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00087085042404097820noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5490891062683504396.post-31581750168993108342022-07-11T21:28:00.009-07:002023-07-23T13:59:47.951-07:00Sonora's Mysterious "Red House" -- History in the Motherlode<p><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEga5oY5MKHxKRXeM_I4T9cOlQNLh2w3MdezeYA-MgUBce6q0RAa-l9rRJUd9l8ayOmmGwdeMjgCaAHXQUwf2m-WvNBft2ckf4SnOy3FNrX3ERZHplDlosU9OGe17fkSnc7dA-S9juS-tCDGG1R5Ler0rl13sBSmMbaZVPthFP080BTOBFq5Ylu8dMpk/s4608/IMG_20220702_140902_1CS.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3456" data-original-width="4608" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEga5oY5MKHxKRXeM_I4T9cOlQNLh2w3MdezeYA-MgUBce6q0RAa-l9rRJUd9l8ayOmmGwdeMjgCaAHXQUwf2m-WvNBft2ckf4SnOy3FNrX3ERZHplDlosU9OGe17fkSnc7dA-S9juS-tCDGG1R5Ler0rl13sBSmMbaZVPthFP080BTOBFq5Ylu8dMpk/w640-h480/IMG_20220702_140902_1CS.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span><p><span style="font-family: arial;">For many years I've traveled the road through Sonora on my way up to visit Columbia State Park. My first memories of visiting that historic park was during a third grade field trip where we panned for gold, watched cowboys have a shoot out in the street, gazed upon a blacksmith making horseshoes, and where I had my very first taste of Sarsparilla. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">Another place that I recall over the years while making that trek through the gold country hills, was the sight of the big red house in Sonora, literally across the street from the big red church. I have always been drawn to its gingerbread and gabled exterior and had often wondered the history behind it. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">It has been theorized that the reason both structures, the church and the house, are painted red is because they were somehow connected, however, there's no record to prove that or not, but I have been able to track down the history of this beautiful treasure of the sierra so that the curiosity regarding this mysterious red house can be settled once and for all.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">The exact date of construction is said to be "unknown," however, the approximate date is 1896. Some old timers have claimed the home was actually the Bradford-Morgan House, given the fact that Ada Bradford's father, S.S. Bradford was said to have had the home built for his daughter and her husband, Frank Wilson Street. I have yet to uncover documentation that says either way, and so just whom had the home built is still up for speculation. Nevertheless, when the home was finished, it was Ada Bradford Street and her husband, Frank Wilson Street who first lived there.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">Prior the building of this majestic home, there had allegedly been a hotel on this site named "United States Hotel," that had previously burned down, was rebuilt and burned down a second time, before the structure was razed and later this exquisite Victorian home was built. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">S. S. Bradford, said to have been the person who commissioned architect Clarence Warwick Ayers to design the home, was originally a native of Maine. Ayers had also designed Bradford's home and the Curtin House in Sonora as well. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">The book, "A History of Tuolumne County," published by B.F. Alley in 1882, states this of Samuel Stillman Bradford, a.k.a. S.S. Bradford:</span></p><p style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><i>"Mr. Bradford is a native of the old Pine Tree State - a state that has given to California more vigorous, energetic workers and enterprising pioneers than any other section of proportionate population. His earlier years being passed in Maine, he removed westward, coming to California in the year 1850, and spent a few years in mining in various portions of this county, notably at Rattlesnake Creek, Big Oak Flat, etc. His travels led eastward again and we find him somewhat later in Maine, where he resided for several years, coming back to California in 1858 and spending a portion of the ensuing years in Columbia, but coming to Sonora in 1867, where he has resided ever since and has become an influential and most valued citizen.</i></span></p><p style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><i>Mr. Bradford has been identified with the lumber trade for many years, in which his business principles have met a suitable reward. He has been owner, in part, of the largest sawmill in the county, situated some fifteen miles east of Sonora. He has met discouragements, such as losses by fire, with the most becoming courage, always rising superior to calamity. At the present time, his business is connected with a steam planing mill in Sonora, where he manufactures all kinds of moldings, etc., does mill work in all its branches, makes sash, doors, blinds, boxes and numerous other articles and conducts a huge trade in lumber, his business extending over the entire county. Mr. Bradford married Miss Nancy P. Davis in 1849, their children being Alice (now Mrs. Street), Aida H. (wife of Frank Street, Esq.) and William Frederick, at present a student in the University of California." -- pages 397-398</i></span></p><p style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: arial;">Again, rumor has it that S.S. Bradford had the home built for Aida (or Ada) and her husband Frank Street. But that's basically it, a rumor. Or is it? </span></p><p style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: arial;">According to a news clipping dated January 23, 1980, in a now defunct publication known as the Ione Valley Echo, the home was known even then as the Bradford-Morgan house, and it was being decorated in the Victorian era furnishings for special tours at that time. The point is, there must be some credence to the story, if going back a good 40 years in documentation the historians showing the home back then knew Bradford had some hand in the home's history.</span></p><p style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: arial;">Going back to the subject, </span><span style="font-family: arial;">Ada and Frank married on May 24, 1881 according to the May 30, 1881 edition of the Stockton Independent. The two were wed at S.S. Bradford's home with the Reverend A.J. Sturtevant officiating the ceremony. The two went on to have three sons, Frank Jr., Clarence and Horace. Two of their children did not survive past their first birthdays. The only one of the children to grow up to be an adult was Horace, who went on to be a lawyer just like his father, Frank.</span></p><p style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: arial;">Frank Wilson Street, the patriarch of his family, was born in Illinois back in 1854. His father, Marvin Street was a very successful merchant who had stores in Illinois, New York and Arkansas. Unfortunately, Frank experienced loss early in his life. His father passed away in 1869, when Frank was only approximately 15 years old. Even earlier, his older brother, Harlow, whom I am sure Frank more than likely looked up to, was killed when Frank was only 9 years old, during the Civil War in Memphis, Tennessee on February 8, 1863. </span></p><p style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: arial;">After the death of his father, Frank promised his mother, Elizabeth that he would always take care of her, and so, she traveled with him years later when they set out to make the long journey to California to settle in Tuolumne County where they had relatives. And so the story began for Frank and his family there in the Motherlode where he became a lawyer and ran a very successful law firm with his cousin Charles, married his beloved Ada, had three sons, and lived in that exquisite home on the hill in Sonora. </span></p><p style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: arial;">The story didn't end there for them though. No, Frank and his son, Horace decided that the Motherlode wasn't their final chapter in life. And so, they moved the family to the bay area of the Oakland hills to start their own firm, "Street and Street," where they remained until Frank passed away at the age of 80 years, in 1935. He is buried at one of my favorite cemeteries, Mountain View Cemetery in Oakland, California.</span></p><p style="background-color: white;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_NMTrxtjmJwFX14c_87QNxNqqlsY498nJmp8VtNhbenjM_gK2pamnbjC-AMDQdlNwKEF6ajc8Ab2-EkpEyne7qKXkAK_Sh4INiD1dEuj077J467V19I_0xfHcTdWDHHXFh7O-2bjUILRaUmVMgPZe5FzFhlqDpc34UkQNBMllxGssjm0zSIsbbBbG/s997/Street-Morgan%20House.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="679" data-original-width="997" height="272" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_NMTrxtjmJwFX14c_87QNxNqqlsY498nJmp8VtNhbenjM_gK2pamnbjC-AMDQdlNwKEF6ajc8Ab2-EkpEyne7qKXkAK_Sh4INiD1dEuj077J467V19I_0xfHcTdWDHHXFh7O-2bjUILRaUmVMgPZe5FzFhlqDpc34UkQNBMllxGssjm0zSIsbbBbG/w400-h272/Street-Morgan%20House.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><p></p><p style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: arial;">So what happened to the house in Sonora?</span></p><p style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: arial;">Well, at some point after the Streets moved away, the Morgan family purchased the house and truly made it their home. </span></p><p style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><b>A New Chapter</b></span></p><p style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: arial;">Frank Albert Morgan was born on February 25, 1869 in Tuolumne County. His father, George was a mason, a saloon keeper and a hotel keeper in Columbia within the years he is listed on the Census. Frank grew up to become a traveling salesman for Sperry Flour, which was located in Stockton near the waterfront area. Morgan was the agent for Tuolumne County and over the years he is mentioned in the newspapers for his important role in the gold country. In his later years he was a life insurance agent.</span></p><p style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: arial;">Frank married Ora Moss, who was only 21 years old, on July 5, 1891, in Sonora. The couple had one son that I could find, Raymond Ritchie Morgan, on September 2, 1895. Frank's success in his work led him to purchasing a duplex on Haste Street in Berkeley. I am not sure if that was their vacation home part of the time, or if it was a rental for investment property income.</span></p><p style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: arial;">Ora Moss Morgan and her husband, Frank were what you could consider "socialites" in one way or another, since they had a pretty significant circle of friends. In fact, in March of 1920, they hosted a huge party with friends coming up and staying from all over. They were also guests of "Tom Mix's Company" at the Victoria Hotel (which was the Sonora Inn). Tom Mix was one of the first Cowboy film stars in motion pictures, appearing in 291 films in his lifetime. </span></p><p style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: arial;">In 1933, Frank passed away. Ora remained owner of both homes in Sonora and Berkeley, eventually selling the bay area home. </span></p><p style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: arial;">Over the years, Ora began writing in journals. Whether it was originally meant to be a form of cathartic relief, she was quite a talented scribe, who penned her memories of earlier days in the gold country. I have read quite a bit of her work, which I thoroughly enjoyed. Her son, Raymond must have inherited the writing bug as well, because he grew up and headed down to Los Angeles where he began his writing career for radio shows. In fact, he co-created a radio show called, "Chandu the Magician," which did so well, a film was created for the Hollywood with Bela Lugosi starring as the villain. </span><span style="font-family: arial;">Ora kept a large collection of her recollections of Sonora history including photography of the area which has been preserved after her passing in 1956.</span></p><p style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: arial;">In 1959, Ora Moss Morgan's writings were published titled, "Gold Dust: A Compilation of the Writings of Ora Moss Morgan, Sonora, California 1933-1950."</span></p><p style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="color: #222222;">According to Tom Slaght, who wrote to me recently on my website:</span></span></p><p style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="color: #222222;"><i>"My grandparents, George and Valora Rombaugh were the owners in the late 50s and 60s. My Gram moved her donut shop to the house after they purchased it. She had been in two other locations in Sonora before moving it to a portion of the down stairs. They used a portion of the downstairs as their living quarters. Eventually they rented a couple of the upstairs rooms. My grandfather was a carpenter by trade. I spent several summers with him doing foundation work, remodeling, and painting. It took us most of one summer to paint the side facing Sonora High. Virgil Gunter purchased the house from my Gram for $15,000 and 160 acres of forest land."</i></span></span></p><p style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: arial;">As mentioned above in Tom's story, the home eventually became a bakery and ice cream parlor in the 1960's. According to some residents that contributed their memories on a post about the home on Facebook, there were a lot of people who had great memories of going there after school to get ice cream or a baked good at the house. </span></p><p style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: arial;">Virgil Gunter, a very popular realtor in Sonora bought the building between the late 1960's -or early 1970's and that his office was also painted the same red color. Perhaps Mr. Gunter was the one who painted it?</span></p><p style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: arial;">In the 1980's the house became an attorney's office, for James Boscoe, Esq., and t</span><span style="font-family: arial;">oday, the house is a dentist office for Dr. Ron Rankin, D.D.S.</span></p><p style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><b>Conclusion</b></span></p><p style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: arial;">This home was loved and cherished by many people over the years since the day it was constructed. It has served many purposes and yet, it still stands beautiful and majestic, even if some people do not care for the red color. Personally, I adore this home, and I think the fact it is the "Red House" in Sonora it gives it character. I also have to wonder if whomever it was who chose to paint it red was inspired by the 1947 film, "The Red House," which was actually filmed in Sonora and Columbia. </span></p><p style="background-color: white;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUAXK73jg_b5NERm5AaehAvaWVxG4EYFzEb32S5tzDKn5tvL0lMdgTqg4qL0BgMy41gvjW4rAAgMXjLS-ojClKG1Qf1RDYS2J-KuoZa49NXvHjELsZ7bvgQf6on84mBlQBHAKjQ-hFkGQrmL5uXynaI8OBwqjxgB-K8Vl_gsdGRbRHFmyR8E-9OSTz/s387/Redhouseposter.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="387" data-original-width="258" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUAXK73jg_b5NERm5AaehAvaWVxG4EYFzEb32S5tzDKn5tvL0lMdgTqg4qL0BgMy41gvjW4rAAgMXjLS-ojClKG1Qf1RDYS2J-KuoZa49NXvHjELsZ7bvgQf6on84mBlQBHAKjQ-hFkGQrmL5uXynaI8OBwqjxgB-K8Vl_gsdGRbRHFmyR8E-9OSTz/w426-h640/Redhouseposter.jpg" width="426" /></a></div><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span><p></p><p style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: arial;">The movie starred Rory Calhoun, Julie London and Edward G. Robinson. I have always loved that movie, and again, something tells me someone who watched that film wanted to keep Sonora on the map and what better way to do so than to make a real-life "Red House," in the motherlode that people would see when they drove through town? Well, that's my opinion of course. Feel free to come to your own conclusions. </span></p><p style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: arial;">Whenever I drive past this house it is usually the fall months or the summer months, but my favorite time of year is in October when the leaves are falling, the trees are all different colors, the smoke from the chimneys fills the air, </span><span style="font-family: arial;">pumpkins stacked on porches </span><span style="font-family: arial;">and the colors of autumn with all its splendor are everywhere.</span></p><p style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: arial;">Ora Moss Morgan wrote a beautiful memory that reminds me of her, possibly sitting on the porch of that house penning her thoughts during that lovely time of year, and I couldn't end this post without sharing her words with you. It speaks of better days and her memories of times long passed. Something that is but a memory today, but one that you can close your eyes and see, even if only in your imagination. </span></p><p style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: arial;">-- </span></p><p style="background-color: white;"><i><b><span style="font-family: arial;">"</span><span face=""Open Sans", sans-serif" style="color: #444444; font-size: 15px;">October days – tawny with sunshine and purple – the odor of burning leaves – how just this little thing awakens memories of childhood days – raking and burning leaves in all the yards in the old neighborhood – the air thick with smoke – it was on Saturday and the children helped.</span></b></i></p><p style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #444444; font-family: "Open Sans", sans-serif; font-size: 15px; margin: 0px 0px 1.5rem;"><i><b>How we loved the crackle and rustle of the leaves as we scuffed through them – playing games by burrowing into tunnels of leaves piled high – brown, red, yellow – we played we had dresses in all the shades and were grown up ladies – then a cloud appeared and suddenly a few rain-drops – we lifted our little faces, the soft drops pattering down – how fresh the air seemed and what a fragrance – the first fall rain........</b></i><i><b>Our parents had never heard the word “depression”, nor “income tax” nor the “high cost of living”. To talk of the “new deal” and the WPA’s and the NRA’s and XYZ’s would have made their poor heads swim with bewilderment. But – they did know honesty and sincerity – home and happiness, after all, the best things in life.</b></i></p><p style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #444444; font-family: "Open Sans", sans-serif; font-size: 15px; margin: 0px 0px 1.5rem;"><i><b>I remember the October sunsets from the old home porch – the landscape fairly ablaze with the crimson rays as the sun sank behind the hills – and "the dewey blue of twilight grew, to purple with a star or two." </b></i><i><b>And the moon – how big and round and red it used to look – but when high in the sky it flooded the world with a silvery glow. I can remember how we used to make a wish and say a verse for the first full moon – dear me – we wished on the daisies and blew hard on the fluffy dandelion balls and were sure our wish would come true – and maybe it did."--- O</b></i><i><b>ra Moss Morgan </b></i></p><p style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #444444; font-family: "Open Sans", sans-serif; font-size: 15px; margin: 0px;"><i><b>(</b></i><span style="font-family: arial;"><b><i>"Gold Dust: A Compilation of the Writings of Ora Moss Morgan, Sonora, California 1933-1950.")</i></b></span></p><p style="background-color: white;">---</p><p style="background-color: white;">HAPPY HISTORY HUNTING!! </p><p style="background-color: white;">Copyright 2022 - J'aime Rubio www.jaimerubiowriter.com</p><p style="background-color: white;">A BIG THANK YOU to TOM SLAGHT for the added information. </p><p style="background-color: white;">DISCLAIMER: Snippets of Ora Moss Morgan's writing was used exclusively under the FAIR USE law for educational purposes only. </p><p style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;">Sources:</span></p><p style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;">Census, Marriage, Death Records, California,</span></p><p style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;">Various newspaper clippings,</span></p><p style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;">Find-a-grave, </span></p><p style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: arial;"> "A History of Tuolumne County," published by B.F. Alley</span></p><p style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;">"Gold Dust: A Compilation of the Writings of Ora Moss Morgan, Sonora, California 1933-1950." - by Ora Moss Morgan</span></p><p style="background-color: white;"><br /></p><p style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></p><p style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></p><p style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></p><p><br /></p>J'aime Rubio, Authorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00087085042404097820noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5490891062683504396.post-42738221964106956882022-06-30T21:53:00.004-07:002022-06-30T22:57:08.824-07:00Susan's Bluff - Tracking Down The Truth to the Tragedy<p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZiaRIHqGFVWzUiBGWH4SGRSs-eCmdD2PGONyLzE68wXw-HinIeycBMzTXTVFE6RVk5Cn-Bn5cvTnIzxHbAveKwDepjQ8QV9-X3fG22hesDDFLbq4fjeDIs2oR5TpkGdHf2JGdZYiCgR7g6jdmc8M3Afh8-1NMHajS91s84tLcm8HBHMBz8ZNzRUgT/s801/wagon%20train%20attack.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="425" data-original-width="801" height="340" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZiaRIHqGFVWzUiBGWH4SGRSs-eCmdD2PGONyLzE68wXw-HinIeycBMzTXTVFE6RVk5Cn-Bn5cvTnIzxHbAveKwDepjQ8QV9-X3fG22hesDDFLbq4fjeDIs2oR5TpkGdHf2JGdZYiCgR7g6jdmc8M3Afh8-1NMHajS91s84tLcm8HBHMBz8ZNzRUgT/w640-h340/wagon%20train%20attack.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br />While meandering through some old magazines from a second hand store in Valley Springs, California, I came across an issue of Real West Magazine. This was published back in 1963, so the stories within the publication are very old, forgotten and for the most part, unknown. Noticing how rare this issue was, I decided to purchase it for possible inspiration into later investigations. At home, as I flipped through the pages of this historical find, I stumbled upon a small article towards the back titled, "Story of Susan's Bluff." I immediately was pulled in. <p></p><p>The story in the magazine tells the tale of a young lady, Susan O'Brien, (allegedly about 15 years old) who was traveling with her family in a wagon train headed west in 1849. According to the story, the party "possessed 40 wagons and 50 head of cattle," meaning it was a big wagon train, with a lot of people.</p><p>At some point the party decided to make camp at Goose Creek. The men all went out to hunt for food, while the women and children were left behind with the wagons. As the saying goes, "when the cat's away, the mice will play," and so a group of natives came into the camp, knowing the women were basically defenseless. Once in camp, they began demanding food and whiskey. Although their demands were met, Susan allegedly picked up two guns that were packed in the wagon, and pointed them at the natives, making her own demand that they leave.</p><p>Although they did leave, this story was far from over for Susan. </p><p>As the party proceeded onward, they moved along the Humboldt River, which follows along where present day Hwy 80 runs. By the time they reached Lassen's Meadows, some of the party split up. One group decided to go north towards Oregon, while a smaller group of others were determined to head in a south-westerly direction crossing the "Forty-Mile Desert." Eventually, the smaller wagon train approached the Carson River, and planned on following that all the way to California.</p><p>In the smaller group that was headed westward, the O'Brien family, which consisted of Susan's father, mother, her teenage brother, Michael and herself, were in the advance of the other wagons, trail blazing ahead along the river. </p><p>By the time they reached the canyon area, where the present day Lahontan Dam is now located, the O'Brien's wagon was attacked. It was more than likely the same natives who had been to their camp demanding food and whiskey, which I believe their intent for that incident was sizing up who was there, and what supplies they had to come back later and take. </p><p>The O'Brien family, being ahead of their party and thus isolated, were now surrounded and unable to defend themselves. The natives proceeded to attack the wagon, brutally murdering the entire family, including hacking Susan's brother to death with their weapons. Susan allegedly had hid in a trunk within the wagon itself, and only once the natives had started rummaging through the belongings to take what they could, did they discover her.</p><p>As the story goes, the natives kidnapped her and held her in a cave while they rustled up all the cattle that the O'Brien's had with them. Then allegedly, they gave her to their Chief. Waiting until the cover of darkness, she supposedly makes her escape, but while attempting her getaway, she is caught once again by the natives. Refusing to be taken alive, Susan does the unthinkable and literally jumps off the top of the cliff side where she had been held against her will, and falls to her death into the rocky ravine below. Later the party that was traveling behind, eventually caught up to the ghastly site, where they discovered the bodies of the O'Brien family, and yes, Susan's mutilated corpse at the bottom of the cliffside. </p><p>Of course, the story sounds tragic and a bit romanticized, doesn't it? </p><p>Well, I had a lot of questions being that some of the story seems impossible to know exact details to, since the only other people who could have known what happened would have been the murderers themselves, those among the native tribe who slaughtered the O'Brien family. </p><p>I was determined to find some answers so I kept digging.</p><p>According to research done by a Nevada columnist for the Fernley Leader, Ms. Laura Tennant, she interviewed a member of the local Paiute tribe, who stated that their people had their own version of the tale. According to Curtis Hamar, the story about Susan that has been passed down for over 150 years was mostly correct, although Susan's demise came in a different way. </p><p>Supposedly, she was taken to be held for ransom in order to obtain guns from the approaching party. While being held at the top of the cliff where the natives had their women cooking, Susan allegedly got into a fight with one of the Indian women. Wanting to be released, she picked up one of the grinding stones used to prepare meals with, and allegedly chucked it over the cliff. This upset on of the Indian women so much she proceeded to attack Susan, ultimately pushing her over the edge and killing her. </p><p>Now, that is certainly a different version of the story, isn't it? Either way, both versions end badly, and ultimately Susan dies in each telling. </p><p>So is that why the area is known today as Susan's Bluff? I decided to look a little further into the story and the pieces of the puzzle started to fit a little better.</p><p>According to page 217 of the "Third Biennial Report of the Nevada Historical Society, 1911-1912," the story gets a little more clear.</p><p>The publication states, <i>"Susan's Bluff is located about 14 miles below Dayton, opposite Clifton. At its foot are the graves of three emigrants with a sunken wagon tire at the head of each grave. The name of one of the emigrants was Susan, hence the name of the bluff."</i></p><p>Very little is known about the O'Brien family and where they came from. We do not even know the names of the parents, only the children, which is also a bit odd to me. </p><p>Do I believe that this story happened? Yes. However, I am on the fence about which version I believe, or if the truth of this tragedy can be found somewhere in the middle. In many cases, unless we have concrete primary sources from eye witnesses that were there at the time this took place, everything we believe is just conjecture. </p><p>One thing we do know for a fact is that a girl or woman named Susan and "others" were found dead at the bottom of that cliff, and they were buried there by the passing wagon train.</p><p>I have to thank those who came before me, who were also interested in this story, so much so, that they trekked up Fort Churchill Road to take in the site of what is known today as Susan's Bluff, and then wrote what they knew about the story to keep Susan's story alive. </p><p>Although her story is not as widely known as the stories of the Donner Party, Kit Carson or the tales of Joaquin Murietta, this tragedy is not any less important. </p><p>One spring or summer day in the high desert terrain near present day Dayton, Nevada, in 1849, a family of settlers looking for a better life were attacked, and their lives were stripped from them. </p><p>Whether Susan was kidnapped and committed suicide, leaping to her death to escape what awaited her, or she was thrown from the cliff -- she died. The bodies of those victims are buried there at the bottom of the cliff, literally forgotten in time. There are no burial markers for them, no monuments, no headstones, nothing. </p><p>There are also no photographs of them to remember them by. All we have is the story. I believe that by reading this story, and sharing it with others, we will not only honor Susan and her family, but we also honor all the settlers who lay forgotten in unmarked graves across the western lands. People who came searching for a better life, a life they would never get to experience.</p><p>(Copyright 2022 - J'aime Rubio, www.jaimerubiowriter.com)</p><p>Sources:</p><p>"Real West Magazine," Volume 6, No.30, July 1963</p><p>"Third Biennial Report of the Nevada Historical Society, 1911-1912," published 1913</p><p>"The Marker," (newsletter) by Trails West, Inc., published Fall 2011</p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p> </p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p>J'aime Rubio, Authorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00087085042404097820noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5490891062683504396.post-81951056758699033532022-06-25T20:44:00.001-07:002022-06-25T20:46:02.039-07:00History of the Dunsmuir-Hellman Estate<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiu63oYdP1ssovvOtJQ8yj2PpXl1sQmo6k1XPjAJ7dpPsJ_nsnUSf1GR2ZOzpLTg3Pvp_WJHroP0wGsD_9ChY28gTeODIcjG1JVUp5Shn5aaPQ36jYBxn-uNiiXxw-rrH_eYhBcmvDHU7QG3YEVBl3mzJhCLTpdziuRmX3wEkJSgd_uRIaK9nejADdH/s2664/www.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2130" data-original-width="2664" height="379" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiu63oYdP1ssovvOtJQ8yj2PpXl1sQmo6k1XPjAJ7dpPsJ_nsnUSf1GR2ZOzpLTg3Pvp_WJHroP0wGsD_9ChY28gTeODIcjG1JVUp5Shn5aaPQ36jYBxn-uNiiXxw-rrH_eYhBcmvDHU7QG3YEVBl3mzJhCLTpdziuRmX3wEkJSgd_uRIaK9nejADdH/w474-h379/www.jpg" width="474" /></a></div> <p></p><p class="MsoNormal">This beautiful mansion located on a tranquil 50-acre lot, hidden away in the hills of Oakland, California, was designed by J. Eugene Freeman and built in the
neoclassical revival architecture that had been so popular back in 1899. The history
of this beautiful and palatial home is one full of twists and turns, and is
shared by two distinct families of great wealth: The Dunsmuir and Hellman
families.<o:p></o:p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeaCnPrtpNH6aLafxnJdVCwxcvLkMIy7TKVFBcED2DyRd4U9C-FVfR3iEki1ln_qVzmDGsyG0nxyh21Of9z8eZ3o7blwx1Ewl4-Rfq_TfcF76R9hg6HP0-NrHrYzKmcAUXhGVLBGikg0jJzYS0QGHStSAEjRQEdMk92WZrtb9wg-1KevzN4Yo1ki3A/s960/dunsmuir%20house%20(1).jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="598" data-original-width="960" height="199" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeaCnPrtpNH6aLafxnJdVCwxcvLkMIy7TKVFBcED2DyRd4U9C-FVfR3iEki1ln_qVzmDGsyG0nxyh21Of9z8eZ3o7blwx1Ewl4-Rfq_TfcF76R9hg6HP0-NrHrYzKmcAUXhGVLBGikg0jJzYS0QGHStSAEjRQEdMk92WZrtb9wg-1KevzN4Yo1ki3A/s320/dunsmuir%20house%20(1).jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheOCtmsj2Z7BztMsgOHmDFX6pCFnqQzPwVnDt0V5qr527v2J0SdAprn_UDxIYjPBCN3t2bLnYq3xn57aNJqPzryxQTvjxF88rs3-qpF2Z0p5INuTy171aiKYivFsGkJyqo68i89bF78QzKPoXZECp9hU4fXYriBIdzFzWUd0-JFVp5K921eVvt1u95/s2860/wwwwww.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2065" data-original-width="2860" height="231" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheOCtmsj2Z7BztMsgOHmDFX6pCFnqQzPwVnDt0V5qr527v2J0SdAprn_UDxIYjPBCN3t2bLnYq3xn57aNJqPzryxQTvjxF88rs3-qpF2Z0p5INuTy171aiKYivFsGkJyqo68i89bF78QzKPoXZECp9hU4fXYriBIdzFzWUd0-JFVp5K921eVvt1u95/s320/wwwwww.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgb6S7YhRqXPwP9gfWXkaX_aFSSqhoXj3A0S_DKS6JYlpvZh78VFNYALWUIbMrKmE0izBmpO-4nlQZqVtRpwWqVuHuE1wt0Uioij7UqWUqoDudvXhU8n12h8TJYIcys7ZhH5yjRXemQ1R5Z2Dmt0lPsTfuXvrRZKik5gwcVpUi-iSSoQxg4uzZcjknk/s2695/wwwwwww.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2021" data-original-width="2695" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgb6S7YhRqXPwP9gfWXkaX_aFSSqhoXj3A0S_DKS6JYlpvZh78VFNYALWUIbMrKmE0izBmpO-4nlQZqVtRpwWqVuHuE1wt0Uioij7UqWUqoDudvXhU8n12h8TJYIcys7ZhH5yjRXemQ1R5Z2Dmt0lPsTfuXvrRZKik5gwcVpUi-iSSoQxg4uzZcjknk/s320/wwwwwww.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p class="MsoNormal"><u>The Dunsmuir Family</u></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">While researching the history of this property one can be
overwhelmed at the enormous amount of websites share the same story verbatim. As
the story usually goes, the son of a Vancouver coal magnate falls deeply in
love with a married woman, and that after leaving her husband, the two planned
to wed. In some versions of this story, which have even been published in
print, there are claims that this coal baron’s son originally came to live with
his favorite bartender, who let him stay with his family as a “boarder,” and it
was there that he fell in love with the bartender’s wife, and the two basically
ran off with each other. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Other versions name the married man as being an usher at a
theatre instead of as a bartender. The house comes into the picture when the
story goes on that this coal magnate’s son used his own fortune to build an
extravagant house for his soon-to-be bride as a wedding gift, but during their
honeymoon the man fell ill and passed away. The story gets even more disturbing
when it concludes with the fact that the bride died soon after as well. Thus
ending the tragic love story.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Unfortunately, some of this popular story is inaccurate and
this article is here to set the facts straight once and for all. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><u>The Facts</u></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcRcFZZpsm-AIoih_ChAEFupk_8WPzYaKZekomd6QBrl2j2mHsqxTjqPMDJ_Wz5puAvMmV7KPA2QiavXHUbzPbWFwNJwy_DPWMBLwJNh2WWwXST6vyVWTy9jopEaSVsMmC8HhwbrQ2twu03rKuGd0_FolXVewxlJ_RvwPQeunaV41fn3VJW2-q9hHi/s4160/Alexander%20Dunsmuir%20(1).jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4160" data-original-width="3120" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcRcFZZpsm-AIoih_ChAEFupk_8WPzYaKZekomd6QBrl2j2mHsqxTjqPMDJ_Wz5puAvMmV7KPA2QiavXHUbzPbWFwNJwy_DPWMBLwJNh2WWwXST6vyVWTy9jopEaSVsMmC8HhwbrQ2twu03rKuGd0_FolXVewxlJ_RvwPQeunaV41fn3VJW2-q9hHi/s320/Alexander%20Dunsmuir%20(1).jpg" width="240" /></a></div>First and foremost, Alexander Dunsmuir actually was the son
of Robert Dunsmuir, one of the richest coal barons in Vancouver, British
Columbia at that time, so that part of the story is correct. When he came to
San Francisco in 1878, at the age of 25, he had plenty of money at his disposal
to stay at the best hotels in town so it is highly unlikely that he took up as
a boarder, living with the family of a bartender or usher.<br /><o:p></o:p><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Alexander Dunsmuir did in fact fall in love with a woman
known as Josephine Wallace, and she had been married to a Waller Wallace, and
even had two children. The 1880 Census puts both he and his wife,
Josephine living at 428 Eddy Street, cites Waller as being an “Attorney” and not
a bartender at all. It also cites the family of four as having a
servant working and living with them, Mary Sullivan. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal">Upon further research, Waller Wallace turned out to be one of the fathers of baseball on the west coast. In fact, his obituary stated that he was a "well known baseball scorer, writer and ex-manager"... who was "prominently identified with the national game." It also states that he pitched and managed for the "California Theatre," which was a baseball team. </p><p class="MsoNormal"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQ7tOTRripzyXRH0DBuenLIMPw-WWkuRl4roLaZvibuUtOgtakPg7qRudGs2yeYybiPGPfz7bG69dcwmofe_J96EjEgG4JphlqrD1FDKMgFCIwnEiR0-c_pBL6bEYGoyLmYL9xxbluzBtn-xwZpqNbChXTIKl1RkcJkbbnOlyztEy72Ii8Jp64BSjw/s1706/20180814_104044%20(2)%20(1).jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1706" data-original-width="1021" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQ7tOTRripzyXRH0DBuenLIMPw-WWkuRl4roLaZvibuUtOgtakPg7qRudGs2yeYybiPGPfz7bG69dcwmofe_J96EjEgG4JphlqrD1FDKMgFCIwnEiR0-c_pBL6bEYGoyLmYL9xxbluzBtn-xwZpqNbChXTIKl1RkcJkbbnOlyztEy72Ii8Jp64BSjw/s320/20180814_104044%20(2)%20(1).jpg" width="192" /></a></div>Although I didn't find a divorce decree during my research, Wallace's obituary shows that he remarried later on, and then died in 1891, meaning that divorce or not, the marriage ended between the two, and at some point Josephine began her relationship with Alexander around 1882. <p></p><p class="MsoNormal">The newspapers also announced that Alexander “secretly” married his love Josephine many years
prior, but never furnished the documents proving so.</p><p class="MsoNormal"></p>The biggest secret or scandal was the fact that Alexander
and Josephine “played house” for nearly 18 years, (married or not) keeping
their relationship secret from his family for fear that he would be
disinherited from his family fortune. <div><br /></div><div>Whether it was the fact that Josephine
may have been a divorcee (or even worse, still married to another man) or had come from a lower station in life, it was
obvious that Alexander wanted to keep his family in Vancouver from discovering
his secret life in San Francisco. <br /><p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">After his father passed away in 1889, Alexander still tried
keeping his relationship quiet for fear his matriarchal mother would cut him
out of his inheritance, too. It was around the time of his investing in the
construction of this house in Oakland, that gossip started going around and he
knew his secret would finally be exposed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>It was then that he publicly announced they had just been married and
that they were to go on their honeymoon at once.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In reality, the couple had been living as man
and wife (common-law) for 18 years.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>During
their “official” honeymoon in Manhattan, New York, Alexander Dunsmuir fell ill
and passed away on January 31, 1900.</p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHTvey0j-5Vgws1uuibkTyNu2yXxhKRYa2cuTA2hFlADt9hSgYZF7-pBsClwbyyMNUoZ33iInWqgmO-rwoSzzBXMiPq7jUUijaxxoLqMxqpvQSdx2swadX8wvEocqAEaRMDdCLLGKb9IQPR9_RN46x5MPGeeIqJHl6CGNdEJcbneBGN77lAQMRt2xe/s2045/20180814_104033%20(2)%20(1).jpg" style="clear: right; display: inline; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1931" data-original-width="2045" height="156" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHTvey0j-5Vgws1uuibkTyNu2yXxhKRYa2cuTA2hFlADt9hSgYZF7-pBsClwbyyMNUoZ33iInWqgmO-rwoSzzBXMiPq7jUUijaxxoLqMxqpvQSdx2swadX8wvEocqAEaRMDdCLLGKb9IQPR9_RN46x5MPGeeIqJHl6CGNdEJcbneBGN77lAQMRt2xe/w165-h156/20180814_104033%20(2)%20(1).jpg" width="165" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Alexander (older)</td></tr></tbody></table><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">After the death of Alexander, Mrs. Josephine Dunsmuir went
back to the beautiful home her husband had constructed for her and remained
there for the rest of her life.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>According to the San Francisco Call dated June 23, 1901, Josephine grew
critically ill with typhoid fever and despite being cared for by the best
doctors and treatments available, she succumbed to her illness within a week’s
time.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"></span>Unfortunately, due to
misinformation on other websites it has often been stated that she died from
lung cancer, but again, according to the newspaper at the time of her death she
died from typhoid fever.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">It was after the death of Josephine that Alexander’s name
was dragged through the mud by his step-daughter, the famous actress Edna
Wallace Hopper. She filed a lawsuit contesting the will of Alexander because
her mother did not inherit Alexander’s estate, meaning she wouldn’t inherit
anything either besides the house. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">You see, upon her husband’s death, Josephine was allowed to
keep the house and receive a small fund of $25,000 a year for the rest of her
life which was agreed upon while Alexander was alive and was promised to her by
her brother-in-law James, who was set to inherit Alexander’s estate. Since
Josephine only lived one year longer, it appears that Edna felt entitled to
money and wanted to get what she could out of the Dunsmuir family, or at least
attempt to anyway. </p><p class="MsoNormal"></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiikaNKT-gW0_l557Usu4XZst6L43z4KGCRAI-rINC3LNZnj-SMzdfegH8tCG4z5TX6yCWZFOvvGADSCczfOxOyzIUnvvGJ0OqATdtbBCWRNXplKhLG0W3641hQ3doxnbblTHbIPzcXOeI8bLAxRsO_yTAWCXmf92dfK4o2wmmASl1mPoXnAz52wSHz/s620/edna%20wallace%20hopper%20(2).jpg" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="619" data-original-width="620" height="233" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiikaNKT-gW0_l557Usu4XZst6L43z4KGCRAI-rINC3LNZnj-SMzdfegH8tCG4z5TX6yCWZFOvvGADSCczfOxOyzIUnvvGJ0OqATdtbBCWRNXplKhLG0W3641hQ3doxnbblTHbIPzcXOeI8bLAxRsO_yTAWCXmf92dfK4o2wmmASl1mPoXnAz52wSHz/w234-h233/edna%20wallace%20hopper%20(2).jpg" width="234" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Edna Wallace Hopper</td></tr></tbody></table>After years of court battles, testimony trying to sully
Alexander’s reputation for his excessive drinking habits and even blaming her
step-father for her not being accepted at various schools due to her mother’s
reputation of living with Dunsmuir, Edna did her very best to ruin what good
name her step-father and mother had left. In the end she lost the court case
and all appeals she attempted to file as well. The estate remained in James’
name just as Alexander had wanted.<p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Years later, Alexander and James’ mother, Joan Dunsmuir also
filed a suit in Canada against James, her own son, claiming that both Alexander
and James’ had tricked her to sell them her portion of the estate in 1889 for
$400,000 when in fact it was worth about $15,000,000, but that lawsuit didn’t
end well of Joan either.<br /><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">By the turn of the Century, Edna Wallace Hopper rented the
house out to the Hellman family, and eventually sold the property to them by
1906, thus starting a new chapter in the history of this magnificent structure.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><u>The Hellman Family</u></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">This chapter in the history of the home would prove to be less scandalous than that of
the first owners of the property. In fact, I could not find anything overly
salacious written about the Hellman family who owned and occupied this stately
mansion from purchasing the house in 1906 up until 1957 when Mrs. Hellman
passed away. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicp0IKmTJYAp7RZlqdYq6VzQG_PBUBd2LOPy1Y37Y_evR1VFIojW1lr735KzRru29D0UIaXCeEI2ell9XVcopQXVZd5n3KpeCZTaWM2nS6u2lL0gzxLc_yB6yyZV9CVGX46aBgGxOoNrVovIKuxA6LkkrUPQ-pHi9Psq8XY9_inUAgbdLNxlhnPXMP/s340/Frances%20Jacobi%20Hellman%20(2).jpg" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="340" data-original-width="230" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicp0IKmTJYAp7RZlqdYq6VzQG_PBUBd2LOPy1Y37Y_evR1VFIojW1lr735KzRru29D0UIaXCeEI2ell9XVcopQXVZd5n3KpeCZTaWM2nS6u2lL0gzxLc_yB6yyZV9CVGX46aBgGxOoNrVovIKuxA6LkkrUPQ-pHi9Psq8XY9_inUAgbdLNxlhnPXMP/s320/Frances%20Jacobi%20Hellman%20(2).jpg" width="216" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Frances Jacobi<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table>Isaias W. Hellman and Frances Jacobi were engaged to be
married in January of 1898, and the pair married shortly thereafter at the home
of the bride’s grandparents. One story that took place a year after their
purchasing the home, Isaias Hellman, Jr., grew very ill and it turned out that
he suffered from a ruptured appendix, nearly causing death. He was treated at
Mt. Zion Hospital and he eventually made a full recovery. At that time he was
VP of Union Trust Company, which later merged with Wells Fargo.<br /><br /><p></p><p class="MsoNormal">When the Hellman’s rented the house in Oakland around the
turn of the century (after 1901) the couple had already begun their family with
their oldest son Isaias Hellman III being one year old. During their time at
the estate they had three more children, Frederick, Florence and Marion
Frances.</p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">The 1910 census shows that the family had a staff of eight
living with them, (4) servants, a cook, a governess and the butler. On July 22,
1910 a terrible fire broke out in the power and engine house, and it was
reported in the paper that Mrs. Hellman fought with bravery and cool-headedness
to manage her workers to stifle the fire and save the estate, and the efforts
proved successful.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">By 1913, the Hellman family made renovations to the house
and the property itself, adding more to the estate such as: a swimming pool,
glass conservatory and grotto, aviary, garden maze, tennis courts and even a
9-hole golf course. Stories of the lavish parties, 4<sup>th</sup> of July
celebrations and family get-togethers have circulated over the years and truly
show the fun and exciting times this property has seen over the years.<o:p></o:p></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnlr1NhYerpQhzPK6H734h8sQKQI15VwRTH6HZkZ0Bq_1TqlndR3LjUY4njRghNCNtU5RkpbA66Fd-NwPSHp2mOe13ooj7FtCNcMU9AMpq24ExVCRQwsS6KZRN81W16YOa_ZSglUt4EAK9UzgEFVM7LBlIduIIQqMLk9BeqpCoxOidqJX_vhXMHtyQ/s1800/Isaias%20W.%20Hellman%20Jr.%20(2).jpg" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1800" data-original-width="1456" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnlr1NhYerpQhzPK6H734h8sQKQI15VwRTH6HZkZ0Bq_1TqlndR3LjUY4njRghNCNtU5RkpbA66Fd-NwPSHp2mOe13ooj7FtCNcMU9AMpq24ExVCRQwsS6KZRN81W16YOa_ZSglUt4EAK9UzgEFVM7LBlIduIIQqMLk9BeqpCoxOidqJX_vhXMHtyQ/s320/Isaias%20W.%20Hellman%20Jr.%20(2).jpg" width="259" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Isaias Hellman</td></tr></tbody></table><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">In 1920, Isaias W. Hellman Jr., passed away, after falling
into a comatose state. His father had passed away only one month prior, and
being that his father was president of the bank, the title was given to Isaias.
He didn’t live much longer, and being that he was in a coma, he never had the
chance to know of his promotion.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">The house remained under the ownership of the Hellman
family, and when Frances passed away in 1957, the property was eventually sold
to the City of Oakland to be used for conference space. By the 1970’s a
non-profit established to restore and protect the estate was co-running the
property, but eventually all ownership returned to the City of Oakland as the
sole proprietor. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal">By the summer of 1989, the non-profit took over the care of the home and renamed it "The Dunsmuir House & Gardens," to use as an educational tool for historical preservation and horticulture. The property was listed as a historic landmark on the National Register of Historic Places, and by the City of Oakland as well.</p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><u>Filming<o:p></o:p></u></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">This 37-room mansion that spans over 16,000 square feet has
been used in films over the years between 1976 to the present day. Such films
include:<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Burnt Offerings, Phantasm,
Partners in Crime, A View To Kill, The Vineyard, So I Married an Axe Murderer,
Gloria, Case Number 13 and Clint Eastwood’s True Crime. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><u>Conclusion</u></p><p class="MsoNormal">I felt during this research that whether it was the scandalous rumors and gossip swirling around the Dunsmuir family, or just the history of the Hellman family surrounding the property, both family's stories were just as equally important to share, because both families created the history of that home. </p><p class="MsoNormal">The home is theirs, always, and with that thought, let us always respect and honor the history of each home, each location we visit and remember that although we might be fascinated with it, or with the stories there are to tell about it, but in the end, this was still someone's home -- their sanctuary, and in many cases, the place where they took their last breath. </p><p class="MsoNormal">Let us always enjoy, but respect the memory of all those who walked those halls of the Dunsmuir-Hellman House.</p><p class="MsoNormal"><br />Happy History Hunting!!</p><p class="MsoNormal">(Copyright 8/14/2018 - J'aime Rubio, www. jaimerubiowriter.com)</p><p class="MsoNormal">Photo Sources:</p><div>All photos of the house, courtesy of Roland Boulware</div><div>Photos of Isaias and Frances Hellman; Find-a-grave</div><div>Photos of Alexander Dunsmuir, Josephine and Edna Wallace Hopper; (public domain) and newspaper articles.</div><span style="color: #888888;"><br clear="all" /><div><br style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;" /></div></span><p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal"><u><br /></u></p></div>J'aime Rubio, Authorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00087085042404097820noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5490891062683504396.post-76147338960334755022022-05-30T19:43:00.034-07:002023-01-15T18:45:05.917-08:00Hidden Histories - 12 & 14 Water Street, Jackson, California<p>Over the years I have researched and written about various people and places in the past. I have done a tremendous amount of research in Amador County specifically, since I have lived there at different times in my life, and some of my family still live there. Around the same time that I was researching the history of the National Hotel for my upcoming book, "Historic Haunts," I was contacted by the proprietress of the antique shop literally next door to the National Hotel. </p><p>After speaking with the her, she asked me if I knew any of the history of her building, 12 Water Street as well. Unfortunately, at the time I didn't, but I assured her that I would look into it and get back to her as soon as I could. Well, after thorough research I am now able to share some of the hidden history of the brick edifice that is adjacent to National Hotel in Jackson, California.</p><p></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEifJfVK16FgHffYJI9QsuwMDKM9TM77T3s4nxO5exVaL_E9WxQeGF7ciqFxQsEnZ6IGqegi15WA6eguHtxr4nTPZkcw9FFy509HH467imsgo0QVNxyGFGhKoXKlwjMBzZmVvP0s66a0KYR1cgzXOUEijbDxDMTeZwrvFAClD8VZJlcuOiHI_OSnJcE0=s3591" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2612" data-original-width="3591" height="233" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEifJfVK16FgHffYJI9QsuwMDKM9TM77T3s4nxO5exVaL_E9WxQeGF7ciqFxQsEnZ6IGqegi15WA6eguHtxr4nTPZkcw9FFy509HH467imsgo0QVNxyGFGhKoXKlwjMBzZmVvP0s66a0KYR1cgzXOUEijbDxDMTeZwrvFAClD8VZJlcuOiHI_OSnJcE0=s320" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Image (1) Louisiana House & Maujer Store<br /> (Amador County Archives) </td></tr></tbody></table>Between 1853 and 1854 a one-story wooden structure with a billboard design on top that read "Maujer," an advertising design often referred to as a western false-front, was constructed for Daniel Maujer's storefront. (Imaged 1).<p></p><p>Maujer was partner's with Amos Barrett, who operated Barrett & Co., and who was the first Wells Fargo agent operating an office in Jackson, out of that store. It wasn't until later on that the Wells Fargo office operated out of the Odd Fellows Hall.</p><p>Sadly, on August 2, 1855, Amos Barrett committed suicide in his room at Wilson's Exchange in San Francisco. </p><p><i>"Suicide - A man by the name of Amos Barrett, committed suicide at Wilson's Exchange, on Friday last. It appears he took a room on Thursday night, and was not seen again alive. The fact of his room being locked all the tie gave rise to suspicions which induced the proprietor of the house to force the door, when he was found dead.</i></p><p><i></i></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhb2iE5oN-O4pBDsxIdC3VzjN8g4Yo7gGbSTayoeZH5TkFA-mhOBmqfKpnxStRFSMPmF88irSkVnVFfECmsteqv1S79Y3uO3e7glrHtcuwi9RsJNuLbJstDyUN_l6GMhpKPpw9b4pwYxtHHZP3Kh4Wu_Kh3HVjhkVHGO9Rbnmk9C1qnX52lJNeBVgUU=s800" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="800" data-original-width="600" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhb2iE5oN-O4pBDsxIdC3VzjN8g4Yo7gGbSTayoeZH5TkFA-mhOBmqfKpnxStRFSMPmF88irSkVnVFfECmsteqv1S79Y3uO3e7glrHtcuwi9RsJNuLbJstDyUN_l6GMhpKPpw9b4pwYxtHHZP3Kh4Wu_Kh3HVjhkVHGO9Rbnmk9C1qnX52lJNeBVgUU=s320" width="240" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Wilson's Exchange, S.F. (CA Library)</td></tr></tbody></table><i>The deceased came to this State in 1849, and since that time has been engaged in mercantile pursuits, and for the last four years has resided at Jackson. Amador County, where he was for a long time the agent of Wells, Fargo & Co. The motive which induced him to the commission of the rash act seems to have been an over sensitiveness in regard to the pecuniary transactions and mercantile probity.</i><p></p><p><i>On the back of a letter, directed to Messrs. Wilcox & Chase, San Francisco, giving them directions as to the disposal of his property, was the following, which was signed by him:</i></p><p><i>"J.A. Kew, editor, is the cause of all this, and he ought to have known it. He will meet his reward. If all my creditors, and I was aware of it, would wait patiently, and give me time, I would not commit this rash act -- but they will or would not. -- Barrett"</i></p><p><i>A letter, written in a somewhat detached and incoherent style, was also found, which was addressed to his mother, brothers and sisters, and another gentleman in Jackson. He states that $3,000 would relieve him entirely from all pecuniary embarrassments, and also states that his property is amply sufficient to pay all his debts.</i></p><p><i>The deceased was unmarried, about 36 years of age, and a native of Long Island, N.Y., where he formerly carried on business. He also did business as a merchant in 1839-46, in Elizabethtown, Essex Co., N.Y. He was always esteemed to be an honest, though somewhat close man in his dealings."-- </i><b>Nevada Journal, August 10, 1855.<br /></b></p><p>According to the <b>Amador Ledger Dispatch, dated January 25, 1901</b>, it states:</p><p><i>"Daniel Maujer was a Frenchman and was associated with Amos Barrett. After the death of the latter, and their business trouble, he left Jackson and his subsequent movements seem to have been forgotten by most of those who were familiar with the county in those days."</i>-</p><p></p>Interestingly enough, the book, "Jackson" by Arcadia Publishing, has some misinformation that must be noted. In the book, the names of the original owners Daniel Maujer and Amos Barrett are incorrectly stated as Amos Maujer and Daniel Barrett (page 11), which we know is factually incorrect. The only reason I am mentioning this, is so that others who wish to research these gentleman will be able to search via their correct names, as I have stated within this blog post. <div><div><br /></div><div>After Barrett and Maujer were gone, the new owners of the property demolished the wooden structure and opted for a one story brick building around 1856. It is mentioned that this may have been around the time it was turned into a drug store. <div><br /></div><div>The late, great Amador County historian, Larry Cenotto mentioned in his <b><i>"Walking Tour of Jackson's Historic Core"</i></b> pamphlet that used to be in circulation:</div><div><br /></div><div><i style="color: #111111; font-family: Georgia, Palatino, Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 16px;">"While the lower story has a faux-Western front, the top facade hasn't changed since Epley and Elderkin laid it in 1863 after the fire. Previously, in late 1853 and '54, Amos Barrett and Daniel Maujer had a store here, and Barrett began his career as Wells, Fargo & Co. Express agent. Known as Rocca's Hall, it was the long-time venue for entertainments, theatricals and even pugilistic exhibitions and fights."---</i></div><div>. </div><div><b><br />The Rocca Family</b></div><div><b><br /></b></div><div>Francesco "Frank" Rocca, was born around 1824 and was a native of Italy. He was considered one of the earlier settlers in Jackson, coming around the mid 1850's just in time for the tail end of the Gold Rush.</div><div><br /></div><div>During the time that the Rocca family owned the building, 12 Water Street was inhabited by the Jackson Theatre, where they held plays and other entertainment venues, including boxing fights and athletic events. There was also a saloon and a store at the corner which was also owned by Rocca. The 1880 Census lists Frank as the "bar keeper" of his saloon. Although, the two buildings are side by side, there was also a residence in the back along the creek where the Rocca family lived. </div><div><br /></div><div>The newspaper from 1889, stated that the west side of the building was known as the "Theatre brick building," while the south side of the property was known as the "Frank Rocca frame dwelling house." Lastly the corner brick building was known as the "Frank Rocca grocery store and bar brick building."</div><div><br /></div><div>According to Larry Cenotto's research, Frank Rocca purchased both of the brick buildings on Water Street around 1859. You see, at the time all of that was considered one giant property. It was known as Lot 13, Block 3. The upper level of the corner building at 14 Water Street was sold to the Masonic Lodge after the great fire of 1862, and that part of the building was rented out to the County while they were rebuilding a new court house. By 1864, the Masons went back to the upper levels of the brick building when the county offices moved into their new building elsewhere.</div><div><br /></div><div>Frank Rocca owned the downstairs of both buildings, and the upstairs of 12 Water Street, (as well as his house). While he was alive he ran the Jackson Theatre for many years, and was well known within the community. </div><div><p><b>The Death of Frank Rocca </b></p><p>In the wee hours of Thursday, November 25th (night of the 24th) which also happened to be Thanksgiving, Frank Rocca had a terrible accident at his home in the residence which was located behind the brick building on Water Street/Broadway. The newspapers originally published that he had fallen from the back porch balcony of his residence into the creek behind the buildings and that he had busted up his nose and scratched up his face. Unfortunately, Frank Rocca didn't walk away from that fall that easily. The newspaper dated, <b>December 3, 1887 </b>explains more:</p><p><b><i>"Mr. Francesco Rocco [SIC], one of our pioneer residents, and proprietor of the Jackson theatre, died in this place last Tuesday night, from the effects of injuries received by a fall from the back porch of his building on Thanksgiving night. It was at first thought that he was not dangerously hurt, but he never entirely recovered from the shock. He was a native of Italy and about 60 years of age. He leaves a family and many warm friends to mourn his loss. He was buried on Thursday afternoon by the Masonic fraternity, of which he was a member of long standing.</i></b><i>" - The Amador Dispatch </i></p><p>Mr. Rocca was buried at St. Patrick's Cemetery in Jackson, just off of Church Street. Although Mr. Rocca's grave states he died on the 25th of November, the newspapers claimed it wasn't until Tuesday, the 29th when he succumbed to his injuries. The newspaper also published several ads that ran continually for quite some time shortly after his death, announcing the theatre and parts of the building itself were up for sale. </p><p><br /></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEit7iuHjTP4420jm6JbeoLwjOuAB_Klij0XJa3FxIz5CWL_fKovobBWRbwca2scQiLny35xPC4WOzNa_baUW7HgqvWXymdEZab0EEofh6jl1D18bPljSWxG2UOlULBwDt_gLVEwGX0zWrkDxrWDt_9Wjy6HvYuvJhVAemB81mRkMGv95kBSce_xwL66/s804/Dispatch%20JANUARY%20Issue%20Date%20JANUARY%2021%201888%20page%203%20(1).jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="605" data-original-width="804" height="241" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEit7iuHjTP4420jm6JbeoLwjOuAB_Klij0XJa3FxIz5CWL_fKovobBWRbwca2scQiLny35xPC4WOzNa_baUW7HgqvWXymdEZab0EEofh6jl1D18bPljSWxG2UOlULBwDt_gLVEwGX0zWrkDxrWDt_9Wjy6HvYuvJhVAemB81mRkMGv95kBSce_xwL66/s320/Dispatch%20JANUARY%20Issue%20Date%20JANUARY%2021%201888%20page%203%20(1).jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Dispatch, 1/21/1888</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><p>Literally the same week that the patriarch of the family, Frank Rocca passed away, the Levy family, from S. Levy & Co. opened a new store at the location on the corner at 14 Water Street. They obviously were renting out the space, as the property still belonged to the Rocca family at the time.<br /></p><p><br /></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSz217kDsUBsjkC3SlgILcQve_kgcX-9z8NPr_bkkSt_avZVqAWikzndvh3L80IcKOb1LsgkNzIoJ17nCyOnyTi8cyKFoHASulnmPt0AO2N6ZmiuWWU8Vz70YhayQLpJV4iJXKcQrjmF5aVEMlQVtvQoVRhDTF2DTV_gRX2B4HAUHmZLFEHKAJ01U_/s2910/Dispatch%20JANUARY%20Issue%20Date%20JANUARY%2021%201888%20page%203.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2910" data-original-width="1489" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSz217kDsUBsjkC3SlgILcQve_kgcX-9z8NPr_bkkSt_avZVqAWikzndvh3L80IcKOb1LsgkNzIoJ17nCyOnyTi8cyKFoHASulnmPt0AO2N6ZmiuWWU8Vz70YhayQLpJV4iJXKcQrjmF5aVEMlQVtvQoVRhDTF2DTV_gRX2B4HAUHmZLFEHKAJ01U_/w328-h640/Dispatch%20JANUARY%20Issue%20Date%20JANUARY%2021%201888%20page%203.jpg" width="328" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Dispatch, 1/21/1888</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><p>The city had also just put in a v-shape sewer line that ran from the front of the building to the back and into the creek, to clear away all the nasty water which would form unsavory "mud puddles" just outside the Theatre. This new development was also mentioned in the newspaper.</p>After the death of Frank, the Rocca family were intent on selling the bottom level corner building (14 Water Street) as well as the Theatre. The ad appeared in the Dispatch in February 2, 1889, when Attorney's Lindley & Spagnoli who represented the estate of Frank Rocca c/o Carrie Deletis (his widow) published the notice.</div><div><br /></div><div>It appears though that the family kept their home in the back, as the 1910 Census shows that Victor remained living with his mother Carrie at the house on Broadway (behind the brick building), and Victor is the proprietor of a saloon. Victor eventually left bar keeping and went on to work next door at the National Hotel as a clerk for many years. His WWI draft cards listed him as working at the National hotel in 1917 and he continued to work there well up into the 1930s. Victor Rocca eventually passed away in 1934. </div><div><br /></div><div>According to the newspapers, by 1913, the property at 12 Water Street was being used for a restaurant and lodging rooms under the business name <b>Home Restaurant & Lodgings</b>. On the evening of June 17, 1913, a gentleman by the name of Tom Belenchia, 45, from Mokelume Hill, went to his room and never came back. He had been working in the hayfields at J.A. Laughton's property just outside of town. Laughton had hired workers for the job, and most of the men were lodging at the same establishment. When the men all came back, everyone went to the restaurant for supper, except for Tom. When one of his friends realized he had never came down to eat, he went to check up on him and found he was very sick. They called for the doctor, but it was too late. He died in his bedroom in the building. According to the newspaper, he died from "<i>gasses forming in the stomach and stopping the action of the heart."</i>- </div><div><br /></div><div>So far, Frank Rocca and Tom Belechnia are the only two deaths I have found that took place on the property, but there could be others. I will continue to keep searching the archives for more hidden history on this location. According to my sources, the Masons eventually purchased both buildings (upstairs and down).</div><div><br /></div><div><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhugeXqV1yCpas14akitZteNNE53Yob3lZB7DBEZBHzBAnbpYLdOA0wtM_gcVdR4_RuM0PYlYLz8_o4MDtPDGU1TOqo8YkoKHkZalEHBpDdAGxd3W1jInPVbu3sM0d-rvMiH-ac5lY7HZ9_Cy1LFFby27KFPG21i8mXlum8Cp7VZqMXRC1PO5ZIuBrp/s4160/20220129_165540.jpg" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4160" data-original-width="3120" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhugeXqV1yCpas14akitZteNNE53Yob3lZB7DBEZBHzBAnbpYLdOA0wtM_gcVdR4_RuM0PYlYLz8_o4MDtPDGU1TOqo8YkoKHkZalEHBpDdAGxd3W1jInPVbu3sM0d-rvMiH-ac5lY7HZ9_Cy1LFFby27KFPG21i8mXlum8Cp7VZqMXRC1PO5ZIuBrp/w300-h400/20220129_165540.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">12 Water Street, Jackson</td></tr></tbody></table>Moving forward, as the years went by, the lower level of the buildings at 12 & 14 Water Street hosted business after business, store after store. People came and people went, and like all businesses eventually do, many closed forever, while others began anew. </div><div><br /></div><div>Sometime around the mid-to-late 1940's a lady name Clara Ericson opened a bar/restaurant called "The Klondike," in this location. She later sold the business to Guido Tofanelli in 1951, who had returned from the Richmond Shipyards after working there for several years around the end of World War II. </div><div><br /></div><div>Guido, or "Guy" as everyone knew him by, would later become Jackson's Chief of Police. Guy ran the bar with his brother, Steve Tofanelli, who was considered a "silent" partner. Guy also opened a boxing gym in Jackson. Was the boxing gym here at this location, given it's past history as an athletic/boxing location? Or was it on the third floor of the Krabbenhoft Building, which is where the present day Hein & Co. Book Store is located? I haven't been able to answer that question just yet.</div><div><br /></div><div>Newspapers accounts show that at one point during the late 1950's when the State was cracking down on prostitution, the Klondike found itself in hot water, when it was discovered that the club was "allegedly" being used as a front for "John's" to be "pointed in the right direction" to one of the cat houses located at another building downtown (not 315 N Main Street, as some have insinuated, that house has never been a brothel despite the claims.).</div><div><br /></div><div>By the 1960's the brick building was home to a store called the "Westerner," and I still remember an old stationary store at the corner building (14 Water Street). </div><div><br /></div><div>So many amazing events happened here at these two brick buildings and so much hidden history has been discovered!</div><div><br /></div><div>Now, this property at 12 Water Street is home to an amazing antique store, and the proprietress has taken an interest in preserving the history of this building, which I am sure the Rocca family would have appreciated so very much. I hope that her business continues on into the future and that the history within its walls continues to be shared for others earnestly looking for it.</div><div><br /></div><div>I hope that you enjoyed learning a little bit more about the history of this property, and because I am still researching the history of this amazing property, hopefully soon I will be able to add more to this blog as I intend to chronicle as many establishments and events that took place at those two buildings.</div><div><br />Thank you for taking this trip with me down Water Street in Jackson! </div><div><br /></div><div>Happy History Hunting!</div><div><br /></div><div>(Copyright 2022- J'aime Rubio www.jaimerubiowriter.com) </div><div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMO5La3KBXrrtJxpP1dVf4RZlqdIlZqKOLA7guog5HRvAH1p3r_5m0bNkwlT-kXmNee768RC9MnjAKwIY5sQtNPpc8nfLcPNJnNdcnT82zI-WAyZKhEdspu_3r8e2BzbiIeES8iRQgKeU9adpcsR7iQJ4J9PsCP70ALsaL9QKrDKHEp8mE5lPAyRss/s2377/Dispatch%20FEBRUARY%20Issue%20Date%20FEBRUARY%2002%201889%20page%202%20(2).jpg"></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMO5La3KBXrrtJxpP1dVf4RZlqdIlZqKOLA7guog5HRvAH1p3r_5m0bNkwlT-kXmNee768RC9MnjAKwIY5sQtNPpc8nfLcPNJnNdcnT82zI-WAyZKhEdspu_3r8e2BzbiIeES8iRQgKeU9adpcsR7iQJ4J9PsCP70ALsaL9QKrDKHEp8mE5lPAyRss/s2377/Dispatch%20FEBRUARY%20Issue%20Date%20FEBRUARY%2002%201889%20page%202%20(2).jpg"></a></div></div><br /></div></div><div><br /></div>J'aime Rubio, Authorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00087085042404097820noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5490891062683504396.post-40901203654240506392022-04-10T16:37:00.004-07:002023-04-09T09:35:17.365-07:00Dead Men Do Tell Tales -- How I Stumbled Upon The Last Hanging in Calaveras County<p><br /></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZN4mvCDLefgYJoTUVE2Tb1G8o66zlMgvWj7CK7PXUVqdWlY_ko7f0m_NXoykhaAjLe7C4UJmQxcBeMdkOae2qNtehxuV9Yav6VUUR21WqHt6NZFsZC1dGxGVtvm3BvsW0Z-iOjzZFZhThV2k8jyJCTHKOvImvTuMWT2PZ9BoiYhb4kFLgy8MUl4Qq/s2462/Polish_20220409_202440448.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2316" data-original-width="2462" height="354" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZN4mvCDLefgYJoTUVE2Tb1G8o66zlMgvWj7CK7PXUVqdWlY_ko7f0m_NXoykhaAjLe7C4UJmQxcBeMdkOae2qNtehxuV9Yav6VUUR21WqHt6NZFsZC1dGxGVtvm3BvsW0Z-iOjzZFZhThV2k8jyJCTHKOvImvTuMWT2PZ9BoiYhb4kFLgy8MUl4Qq/w376-h354/Polish_20220409_202440448.jpg" width="376" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">George Washington Cox</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><p>It all started with a book. Roland and I were at the Friends of the Library in Stockton, a frequent haunt of ours, when we found an older, historical book about the gold country titled, Motherlode Memories. Roland purchased it and started going through the pages in the car. He pointed out to several places we are familiar with and a few we hadn't seen before. This past weekend he pulled out the book and said, "Let's go up to San Andreas, and see if we can find these two men's graves so I can put their photos on Find-a-grave." </p><p>The two men he was speaking of were Sheriff Ben Thorn and Judge Gottschalk. They were the two men pictured on the pages in the historical book he was looking at. The page also showed a photo of the backside of the courthouse with a small blurb underneath that read <i>"The courtyard in the rear of the restored 1868 San Andreas courthouse and jail was landscaped by the students of San Joaquin Delta College in Stockton. The last hanging from the gallows in this courtyard occurred in 1870." - (pg 102, Motherlode Memories). </i>The page also had photographs of the Black Bart Inn and Ben Thorn's house as well. In the usual way that we do, we jumped in the car and headed up to San Andreas to do some history hunting. </p><p>We searched for Pixley Lane and found ourselves going up a windy road up to an old cemetery on top of a hillside. </p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijIn754UI1mIBD_VSFIAvRum7xilnNN245Clo23aN23HZjgYUq02wq-atAQ16imrgYNIjf0ho9HpVHYUsyxiyRDAIisMLMJNJbopwEaSU0NlJTey2WCMhEm8HVntXQkC-rXm2iEiRFNVrcGEVNtSeI8cn5tWo-XOA8w4bj-J4T-zghE_VDLagkVINx/s4608/IMG_20220409_120048.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3456" data-original-width="4608" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijIn754UI1mIBD_VSFIAvRum7xilnNN245Clo23aN23HZjgYUq02wq-atAQ16imrgYNIjf0ho9HpVHYUsyxiyRDAIisMLMJNJbopwEaSU0NlJTey2WCMhEm8HVntXQkC-rXm2iEiRFNVrcGEVNtSeI8cn5tWo-XOA8w4bj-J4T-zghE_VDLagkVINx/s320/IMG_20220409_120048.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">People's Cemetery, San Andreas, CA</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><p>We wandered the grounds for a good hour or longer, before I stumbled upon Judge Gottschalk's grave, but we never did find Sheriff Thorn. As we were leaving the cemetery, we passed by a reddish marble stone that read George Washington Cox. I noticed the name right away, and Roland even spoke his name out loud as we passed by. It was apparent that we were meant to see or acknowledge that grave for some reason, but at the time we didn't know why.</p><p>So up to the Courthouse we drove, to take photos of the buildings on the main street. As I passed by the courthouse steps I noticed that they were open, so I walked right on in. I met up with a docent there and started talking to her about another story I have been planning to write about that took place in Valley Springs, and I wanted permission to use the Historical Society's photograph for my blog. We started talking and I gave her one of my business cards and Roland purchased our tickets to take a tour of the courthouse museum. </p><p>The courthouse upstairs is beautiful, and preserved just as it was when Judge Gottschalk sentenced the infamous Black Bart to prison for his stage coach robberies throughout the motherlode. But it wasn't the courtroom that intrigued me, it was the jail that I wanted to see. As I walked down the brick walkway down the side of the old courthouse and made my way around to the back yard of the property, I recognized the scene from the old black and white photo in Roland's book. This was the spot where the last hanging occurred. <br /><br />"I wish I knew who that person was", I told Roland, as I walked up to the back steps of the jail.</p><p>"Look, I am going to jail," I said, as I made a hand gesture as if I was handcuffed in front. I smiled and I walked into the jail. </p><p>It was quiet and dark. Suddenly the motion censor lights came on. It startled me, I cannot deny that. Nothing paranormal about it though. I made my way to the back hallway where the cells were. I walked into one of the cells and tried to imagine how it must have felt to have been incarcerated there. The etched names and initials carved into the walls were abundant. Who were these men? What stories did they have to tell? Were any of them among those who met their ending just steps away in the back yard? </p><p>As I walked around, filming my experience there, Roland called out to me. </p><p>"Hey, come over here," he said. "Remember that grave in the cemetery , George Washington Cox? He was the last guy they hanged here."</p><p>I walked into the small room off the main jail entry way, and there it was: a glass case with chain mail on display, a photograph of George, a small invitation to the ghastly affair (his execution) and at the bottom was a photocopy of a photograph of a man and woman (possibly George and his wife?) and a letter in his own hand, made out to one of his daughters, Medie Cox Damon, written just a month before he was hanged.</p><p>It seemed too coincidental to the both of us that we both noticed his grave at the cemetery earlier, and then like following invisible footsteps on a map, we happened to end up at the very spot in which George met his final ending. I sat down on the concrete floor and read his letter aloud. Roland had stepped outside to take more photos. No one was there, and I was all alone in the jail. You could hear a pin fall it was so quiet. </p><p>The letter read:</p><p><b><i>"Saturday, July 6th, 1888</i></b></p><p><b><i>My Dear Daughter, </i></b></p><p></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJ_YjWCw_bCjE9WhpWO2bJEx4TfIEgWabnw5o3vEX0PwPz0qQmEEDC-Us_MKqXJ8tBcRoUgvNphfK7o_8klogPvpt_C5qCpZCPH-QsqY7vvUcsaub6WsD8CKf_uwSRPPmNFrQ6q3NH5he6JpIRTG6ibz5AV-hLjZXbK-RtK2fvoeP7dDNQ-iNZ9PTV/s4608/IMG_20220409_132610.jpg" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4608" data-original-width="3456" height="215" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJ_YjWCw_bCjE9WhpWO2bJEx4TfIEgWabnw5o3vEX0PwPz0qQmEEDC-Us_MKqXJ8tBcRoUgvNphfK7o_8klogPvpt_C5qCpZCPH-QsqY7vvUcsaub6WsD8CKf_uwSRPPmNFrQ6q3NH5he6JpIRTG6ibz5AV-hLjZXbK-RtK2fvoeP7dDNQ-iNZ9PTV/w161-h215/IMG_20220409_132610.jpg" width="161" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Cox's Letter</td></tr></tbody></table><b><i>I am very hopeful for a new consider in life but think it is with no effect. All you are doing for me will prove worthless to me. I came home to see my children and by doing so, I walk in my grave. I am filling the position I was born to fill, and think no more about dying than going to sleep, everybody has got to pull over the same hill to meet in death valley, I am on the fence and can fall two different ways. I wish you all success in life hoping you and your husband may see many happy days. There is no change in my feelings, my constitution has been hardened to the capacity of steel by a band of dishonest men. I could write you a great many things, I don't fear death a bit, but I have been abused from my birth to the present day. Tell Mr. Damon to come down.</i></b><p></p><p><b><i>Yours Affectionately,</i></b></p><p><b><i>G.W. Cox"</i></b></p><p>I sat there at the jailhouse and started to cry. The letter seemed very sad, and the thought of a person's life ending and those were his last written words to a loved one really got to me. I wanted to know more. Why did he hang? What did he do? What happened?</p><p>There was a small paper in the glass cabinet that shed further light on the story.</p><p><b><i>"George Washington Cox goes down in Calaveras County history as the last man hanged in the jail yard. Soon after his hanging, the privilege of conducting hanging went to San Quentin.</i></b></p><p><b><i>Cox shot his son-in-law while having paranoid delusions of him having an affair with his wife. After he had shot and killed him, he put his armor on and gathered his knives and turned himself in to Ben Thorn, the county sheriff."</i></b></p><p>Well, it wouldn't be the first time a son-in-law was caught sleeping with his mother-in-law, trust me, I know of a few stories personally in the last few generations that this happened in different families. </p><p>But, did George's wife and son-in-law actually do that? I needed to know more. </p><p>We drove back up to the cemetery for the second time in the same day, and went right back to that grave we had passed by just a few hours earlier. I stopped and his grave and sat down, I took photos and I read out loud the letter he wrote to his daughter. I wondered, did his daughter ever read the letter? Or was she too distraught over the whole situation that she never accepted it, and thus it ended up back at the courthouse among items on display at the museum?</p><p>As soon as we left and returned home, I started searching the archived newspapers of the time to see if I could dig up anymore on this perplexing story. </p><p>The first thing I wanted to see was if he had a memorial on Find-a-grave, and he did. </p><p>So, I kept searching the archived newspapers of the time, to see what light I could shed on this story that literally found me.</p><p>The Amador Ledger, dated November 12, 1887 elaborated a bit more:</p><p><i><b></b></i></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiS_dwYMevp-D8XWns8sVxPtg_QZs80UTEZnfliSvowcLitOcbWB9YQDYyHr571g7RDquCL4a9z012w-21qc8tZAigd3YAkaB81u5njj2kqBAx_Myy1dsmyw2FQ6zPzcfKdcVxiHRf0FEnFf88mJhr4WdXHAB1CobpDcwxAZr6WGglV57izIWAA7rxc/s4608/IMG_20220409_132524.jpg" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4608" data-original-width="3456" height="412" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiS_dwYMevp-D8XWns8sVxPtg_QZs80UTEZnfliSvowcLitOcbWB9YQDYyHr571g7RDquCL4a9z012w-21qc8tZAigd3YAkaB81u5njj2kqBAx_Myy1dsmyw2FQ6zPzcfKdcVxiHRf0FEnFf88mJhr4WdXHAB1CobpDcwxAZr6WGglV57izIWAA7rxc/w309-h412/IMG_20220409_132524.jpg" width="309" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Cox's items on display at the Jail.<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><i><b>"On Thursday afternoon, Geo. Cox went to Sheep Ranch and gave himself up to the authorities, stating that he had killed his son-in-law H.G. Cook. Cox, when taken into custody had a Winchester rifle, a Winchester revolver, a dirk knife with a ten inch blade, and a coat of armor, the latter is made of steel wire, and weighs about 25 lbs. From the evidence of Mrs. Cox, before the coroner's inquest it appears that Cox, Cook and one of the children were eating dinner. Cox got up from the table and went through a hall into a bedroom and taking his Winchester rifle, he stepped to the door leading from the hall to the dining room, and fired a shot at Cook, who was seated at the dinner table. The bullet struck Cook in the left breast and passed through his body. </b></i><p></p><p><i><b>Cook stood up and then fell to the floor, Cox firing another shot as Cook fell, which struck the table in front of the little boy. Mrs. Cox and Mrs. Cook were in the room when the second shot was fired and before Cox had reloaded his rifle the third time, Mrs. Cook sprang across the room and caught hold of the gun and pushed Cox into the hall. During the struggle Cox kicked his daughter and struck her on the head with the rifle, which knocked her down, but she got up and pushed Cox out of the house and locked the door.</b></i></p><p><i><b>Cox went to a window and pointed his rifle at Mrs. Cook and swore he was prepared for any of them. In all probability Cox would have killed his wife and daughter had not the latter caught the assassin and put him out of the house by main strength. There appears to have been no cause whatever for committing the murder. There had not been an angry word spoken that day, or on any previous occasion by either of the men to one another. the coroner's jury charged Cox with having committed a cold-blooded murder. "</b></i></p><p>So by that point, it appears the rumor about his wife's infidelity hadn't gotten around in the community just yet. So when and where did this rumor start?</p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjm1HfKypOHVsy3kAnvnlDoCMFEB1_Ixx2OweKwMaHsisPb5o3H1kP3tTGerDdFYBbwe9DqaSGTfjRnZfYnGmJnEWwBGsnW3TzJDySGLfQAnCvL08OK1DtmMdG_CCsiNI1W5xeFXOS-A4lZM37V5i4gEVq7Z6P3FAg6xIqNGx0yS2lVDkAuOaU5aw5_/s4608/IMG_20220409_132321.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4608" data-original-width="3456" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjm1HfKypOHVsy3kAnvnlDoCMFEB1_Ixx2OweKwMaHsisPb5o3H1kP3tTGerDdFYBbwe9DqaSGTfjRnZfYnGmJnEWwBGsnW3TzJDySGLfQAnCvL08OK1DtmMdG_CCsiNI1W5xeFXOS-A4lZM37V5i4gEVq7Z6P3FAg6xIqNGx0yS2lVDkAuOaU5aw5_/s320/IMG_20220409_132321.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>Digging into the archived newspapers little more, I found that a friend of Cox's, a Mr. Dave Reed, came to the authorities to tell them that just after Cox had killed Henry Cook, he came over to his Reed's cabin and asked him to help him gather his belongings from the house. He didn't tell Reed what had just transpired, so when Reed went into the house to get Cox's belongings he didn't know why everyone was crying. He gathered his things and left. Soon after, Mrs. Cox went to Reed's cabin and told him what happened and Reed went back to the house and went into the dining room and saw Mr. Cook dead on the floor. He claims this was the first he knew about it, when Mrs. Cox told him.<p></p><p>About fifteen years ago, a historian by the name of Walt Motloch shared more information to journalist Dana Nichols for a piece in the Stockton Record. Motloch uncovered even more regarding the story, which didn't necessarily settle the rumors, but instead created more confusion about the motive of the killing itself.</p><p>According to the news article dated in 2007, three different descendants of George Washington Cox have come to three different conclusions about what happened. Joette Farrand, a great-great granddaughter of Cox, believed he was set up, and that there were people who wanted to get him "out of the way," so-to-speak. Now, this goes in line in a way with what Cox speaks in his letter about a "band of dishonest men."</p><p>Was he speaking about certain people plotting against him? Feeding him with false ideas? Knowing all too well he was like a ticking time bomb ready to go off at the next rumor that he heard? Or was the "band of dishonest men" simply the jury who convicted him?</p><p>The next descendant, Lee Rude, claimed that he had heard Cox had abandoned the family for 12 years, and only returned around the time of the murder. According to the Record's account, the Calaveras Prospect mentioned that Cox was a drifter who went from place to place, job to job and came back to seek revenge on the "injuries done" to him. </p><p>But what were these great injuries done to him? And why his son-in-law, unless there actually was a reason for the killing?</p><p>Lastly, Jan Cook, another one of Cox's great grandchildren eludes to the idea that he was mentally unstable, not knowing where he was half the time, and being "weak mentally." So was he mentally incapacitated at the time of the murder? If so, why not send him to the Stockton Asylum? Why condemn him to the gallows? </p><p>The more information being spread the more confusing it had became. </p><p>Do I believe he specifically came to Calaveras to exact revenge on his son-in-law? I am not sure. But where did he get this information that his wife was being unfaithful in the first place? It had to come from somewhere. Was he upset that he spent years of his life, working wherever he could to make a living (possibly sending the money to his family) only to find out his wife was sleeping around?</p><p>First and foremost, I am not accusing his wife of something that hasn't been said before. For the record, I don't know if she was faithful to him or not, just as I don't know whether Cox had any true merit to his accusations against her. But something was going on, whether it was reality or all in his mind. And if it was all in his mind, again, why did the jury not seek to send him to the Asylum in Stockton? </p><p>By Cox's own admission during his trial, he believed his act was a defense to his family. Why would he say that if he didn't feel a real threat to himself or his family? </p><p>The article in the Stockton Record from 2007, claims that Cox later admitted (after his trial) that the rumors he believed about his son-in-law were unfounded. </p><p>But where is this documentation? (Not to say it wasn't said, but I would certainly like to see that for myself).</p><p>The Sacramento Daily Record Union, dated September 1, 1888, gives a little more insight into Cox's state of mind when he killed Cook when it reads, <i><b>"The crime for which Cox suffered the death penalty was for the murder of his son-in-law, Henry Cook, near Sheep Ranch, in this county on November 3rd last. The murderer shot the young man while he was eating dinner, without any warning whatsoever. </b></i></p><p><i><b>Cox claimed that his son-in-law had threatened to take his life, and had listened to evil stories concerning Cook and his (Cox') wife. The case was tried in January last and the death penalty affixed, and on appeal to the Supreme Court the judgement was affirmed."</b></i></p><p>When Cox was tried for the murder, in January of 1888, it was said that it only took the jury approximately one half of an hour to come to their verdict. Cox tried to appeal it, as the newspaper above mentions, and at one point, his execution was delayed.</p><p>According to the Los Angeles Herald, dated March 24, 1888, Cox's hanging was postponed, as it was originally scheduled for March 23, 1888. The final date was set for August 31, 1888, one final meeting at the gallows that Cox would not be able to avoid. </p><p>It is apparent that Sheriff Thorn found the entire ordeal unpleasant, as he so did state at the execution and also by the way he had the invitations to the execution designed. </p><p>The Sacramento Daily Union even mentioned it on August 24, 1888, that the invitation was printed on a card with a deep mourning border. This is telling. If Thorn so believed that Cox was such a horrid, murderer, he would have had a simple card printed, but this one had meaning, symbolism for that time period. One of not just mourning, but "deep mourning," as the journalist had put it. </p><p><br /></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjb4MBzHnKa3Og3OoiXCmkdOpJYyvRAgz3rl-s9rvCtOGAwKEVVz9wuH8LzLO13butR9JJ4Oioi9PI6c8h4mlNmwlJ2gLR1kRpXdjdNUP7gPX-6b7d4GjXw6MP-n92O8Gx_N_Ja-0BdLMGpbHg9vEPX-jG1iEBlv_K30-LcVU19O6Cn97Lcomp3MTd5/s4608/IMG_20220409_131857.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3456" data-original-width="4608" height="343" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjb4MBzHnKa3Og3OoiXCmkdOpJYyvRAgz3rl-s9rvCtOGAwKEVVz9wuH8LzLO13butR9JJ4Oioi9PI6c8h4mlNmwlJ2gLR1kRpXdjdNUP7gPX-6b7d4GjXw6MP-n92O8Gx_N_Ja-0BdLMGpbHg9vEPX-jG1iEBlv_K30-LcVU19O6Cn97Lcomp3MTd5/w457-h343/IMG_20220409_131857.jpg" width="457" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Jail Yard, where Cox was hanged on 8/31/1888</td></tr></tbody></table><p></p><p><b><u><br /></u></b></p><p><b><u>"Brave to the Last"</u></b></p><p><i><b>Execution of George W. Cox Yesterday at San Andreas</b></i></p><p><i><b>San Andreas, August 31st, George W. Cox was executed today in the jail yard at 10:30 a.m. by Sheriff Benjamin Thorne [SIC]. The death warrant was read to the condemned man shortly after 10 o'clock, in the presence of several officers and physicians. The Sheriff informed Cox that he had an unpleasant duty to perform and Cox replied, "Go on, Mr. Sheriff, and do your duty."</b></i></p><p><i><b>The condemned man was laboring under some excitement, for his pulse was 140 immediately before being led on to the scaffold, but his manner and words were brave to the last. He walked to and on the scaffold without any hesitation, and assisted the Sheriff in adjusting the straps and the black cap. He made the remark that he was not sorry for anything he had ever done in his life, and as the black cap was slipped over his head he told the Sheriff not to smother him.</b></i></p><p><i><b>At 10:35 o'clock the drop fell and the neck of Cox was broken. He died without a struggle and no pulse was perceptible after the drop. About one hundred persons witnessed the execution." -- Sacramento Daily Record-Union, Sept, 1, 1888.</b></i></p><p><i><b><br /></b></i></p><p><i><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-gJ_CBNbj6E6G8vanl2AyAAsgtlEpF5bGIgHn0KTNU_RQUtgVKkW9-dBp2clkuhyAGIcRjiHpQR7TVy0n_lPgvDQBwWaQ_8KldTmzQXclnKLprUFY7c4Epyjl3wD-gbxMwfRHD9zYMHEJ13HwjeF_rfsbbTHRhtraXn1mP8Ad-sjhUtsrmndFuscX/s3264/IMG_20230408_135912568_PORTRAIT.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1836" data-original-width="3264" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-gJ_CBNbj6E6G8vanl2AyAAsgtlEpF5bGIgHn0KTNU_RQUtgVKkW9-dBp2clkuhyAGIcRjiHpQR7TVy0n_lPgvDQBwWaQ_8KldTmzQXclnKLprUFY7c4Epyjl3wD-gbxMwfRHD9zYMHEJ13HwjeF_rfsbbTHRhtraXn1mP8Ad-sjhUtsrmndFuscX/w400-h225/IMG_20230408_135912568_PORTRAIT.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Spot where the gallows once stood.</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><b><br /></b></i></p><p><u>Conclusion</u></p><p>George Washington Cox went to his grave with no regrets, or so he stated. But did he really? Were there any actions in his lifetime he may have regretted? It appeared that his emotional letter to his daughter revealed his weakness, his love of his children. Maybe in his mind, if he truly believed his son-in-law was sleeping with his wife, he felt it was a betrayal to his daughter as much as it was to himself. If this rumor had any truth to it at all, it would ruin both marriages, and disrupt the family forever. Maybe Cox just couldn't handle the idea of his daughter's heart being broken, or becoming hardened as his had.</p><p>Will we ever know if the stories he believed about his wife and his son-in-law had any merit at all?</p><p>Unfortunately, only the people involved in that event that took place back in 1887 know the truth to that story. We can sit and speculate all we want, but we may never know the truth. Cox could have been within his rights to believe his wife was being unfaithful, he may have been threatened by his son-in-law as he stated. Those rumors could have had truth to them. On the flip side, Cox could have been believing lies told to him by others, or perhaps even ideas that he came to on his own. </p><p>Was Cox's mind troubled? Did he truly abandon his family for years on end? Or was he working on any job he could to send money to his family, in order to support them? How will we ever know for certain? Unless we have actual records to state either or, we will never know for sure but the story itself was one I couldn't pass up on sharing with all of you.</p><p>As many times in my history hunting, Roland and I come across stories that literally fall into our laps. We aren't necessarily looking for them, most times we are searching for something else and those other stories just happen to find us. I am then compelled to tell these stories of the forgotten, no matter whether they are: infamous, famous or unremembered, because I believe every grave has a story to tell, and as long as I am here, I will remain a voice to the voiceless so they will be forgotten no more.</p><p></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhc70zbZbJ4RbDyI6EGzrBnjsDP4Y64lqZeKilDLsX2YCGLZpnLeRUB21fTqnW_QYvcOSWHzQigXhRO7TxLWKeJQapEv-frQv01s_gDExXbVB7D5iQhm0hNgb1M9znPSmpWp4SiVrMdj7Udbh0YBw9yblj6A1mdr1zfIiONygr1pTjG76HCYjk6_dZ9/s4489/IMG_20220409_135815_3.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3367" data-original-width="4489" height="332" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhc70zbZbJ4RbDyI6EGzrBnjsDP4Y64lqZeKilDLsX2YCGLZpnLeRUB21fTqnW_QYvcOSWHzQigXhRO7TxLWKeJQapEv-frQv01s_gDExXbVB7D5iQhm0hNgb1M9znPSmpWp4SiVrMdj7Udbh0YBw9yblj6A1mdr1zfIiONygr1pTjG76HCYjk6_dZ9/w443-h332/IMG_20220409_135815_3.jpg" width="443" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Final Resting Place of G.W.Cox</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><p></p><p>(Copyright 2022 - J'aime Rubio www.jaimerubiowriter.com)</p><p>Photos: <br />Grave of George W. Cox, Peoples Cemetery, San Andreas (Copyright, J'aime Rubio)</p><p>Photos inside and outside of San Andreas Courthouse/Jail/Jail <br />yard (Copyright, J'aime Rubio)</p><p>Sources:</p><p>Motherlode Memories, by Dr. R. Coke Wood & Leonard Covello, published by Valley Publishers, 1979. </p><p>San Andreas Museum (photos)</p><p>Newspapers: Amador Ledger, 11/12/1887; Amador Dispatch, 11/19/1887; Sacramento Daily Record-Union, 8/24/1888; Amador Dispatch, 9/1/1888; Sacramento Daily Record Union, 11/05/1887, Los Angeles Herald, 3/24/1888; Sacramento Daily Record Union, 9/1/1888; Stockton Record, 5/4/2007.</p><p><br /></p>J'aime Rubio, Authorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00087085042404097820noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5490891062683504396.post-34999950283440069782022-03-13T17:59:00.010-07:002023-08-30T20:24:34.325-07:00Explosion at 3,000 Feet- Accidental Deaths at the Kennedy Mine<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjFA4_92UWmswPQMr7tLOx-JHQQPqiMbAeslNLyuz_RBQTwZK_KZJEyEmOD-NcRXK3J174ThceI7XU6Bd5gfksl5yMY7wf_HP3HJj56CDapIUiaKWcTY2UIOCahTTi8gKmrrlBa27B0w-fPopRqy5ZVqCHKIX2-4Jm1nWyUDcLOg7zQsoxr2aU119k2=s4160" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3120" data-original-width="4160" height="350" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjFA4_92UWmswPQMr7tLOx-JHQQPqiMbAeslNLyuz_RBQTwZK_KZJEyEmOD-NcRXK3J174ThceI7XU6Bd5gfksl5yMY7wf_HP3HJj56CDapIUiaKWcTY2UIOCahTTi8gKmrrlBa27B0w-fPopRqy5ZVqCHKIX2-4Jm1nWyUDcLOg7zQsoxr2aU119k2=w466-h350" width="466" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div>Many years ago, I became fascinated with the history of the Kennedy Mine in Jackson, Amador County, California. I had lived up in Amador County off and on for several years throughout my life, and my dad was really big on local history. I remember as a kid, on my way home from school, many times we would drive up and down the highway and stop at every single historic marker and read about what had happened at that certain spot back in time. You could say that these adventures helped interest me more and more in local history as the years went by.<p></p><p>Well, dad was always intrigued by the history of the Argonaut Mine Disaster that happened just across the highway from the Kennedy, and for years he had a framed superimposed photo of the miners and a copy of the Stockton Record together, hanging in our hallway at our house in Pioneer, California. I read that article over and over and also became interested in the mines.</p><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhNHSDtyuNccvrnSPkJM0xpNst3Jn8CHWfAGYK194_bfj3zuDd3Xqc_KAlcal1JbCNr5SxJiGVj9kB0n6QTnyNR7eNdk8RfiJ45J2pki0g_j4jq7NKFNCMIpkZJD3DxhbkRwy2yuA0HvWu85BvjX-doCRIWDMXyj2L6PTfTHGs1QvzIFeH0CgqlmgO2=s1538" style="clear: right; display: inline; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1538" data-original-width="1108" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhNHSDtyuNccvrnSPkJM0xpNst3Jn8CHWfAGYK194_bfj3zuDd3Xqc_KAlcal1JbCNr5SxJiGVj9kB0n6QTnyNR7eNdk8RfiJ45J2pki0g_j4jq7NKFNCMIpkZJD3DxhbkRwy2yuA0HvWu85BvjX-doCRIWDMXyj2L6PTfTHGs1QvzIFeH0CgqlmgO2=s320" width="231" /></a>Years later, I thought about how there is not a lot written about the <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Behind-Walls-Historical-Preston-Industry/dp/1481075047?ref_=ast_author_dp">history of the Kennedy Mine</a> just across the highway from the infamous Argonaut, due to it not being thrown into national headlines like the Argonaut mine was back then. That didn't mean that the Kennedy Mine's history was any less tragic or less interesting, for that matter.</p><p>I have written a few blogs touching on<a href="https://www.amazon.com/Behind-Walls-Historical-Preston-Industry/dp/1481075047?ref_=ast_author_dp"> some of the deaths that have occurred at the mine,</a> as well as a short history of the mine itself. However, I have recently decided to write a book about all of the deaths associated with the Kennedy Mine and so, this is my little introduction to that book. In all there has been a total of 39 deaths at the Kennedy Mine.</p><p>Today, I will share with you one of those accidents that took place at the mine which will also be in my upcoming book. As with every story I share, my sole purpose is to give a voice to the voiceless. To remember those forgotten in the great abyss of time. These men, who died so long ago, and under such horrific circumstances, have been forgotten. Their names for decades upon decades left unspoken, but now, will be remembered by sharing their stories with you.</p><p>On Monday, November 17, 1913, just before 1 p.m., three people were killed in a horrific accident at the mine. When I first looked into the story, I found an article in the Sacramento Union, dated May 2, 1914, mentioning only two people who had died on that date, Janko Acimovich and Maksim Rupar. But, during my research I uncovered one more death associated with this accident. The third man wasn't mentioned in the article I originally found because, as it turns out, he was the cause of the explosion.</p><p>The miners had just come back from their dinner, and were going back to work. They were working at the 3,100 foot level in the mine, about 800 feet west of the main shaft. As two of the miners were cutting timber for a cap, the other two were in a drift, going to fetch powder. Per the article in the Amador Ledger Dispatch dated November 21, 1913, all four men were within about 20 feet distance from one another. At the time it was believed that Schance or Rupar were responsible for the accident. Later on though, it appeared it was more than likely Schance who accidentally caused the explosion.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjXQ9hYpmTC0Ypbw1JhUj_nyTa8N3Endw8ciwdZQSFxQk379rCI0EdF55QKBSmw7ogv591SBTnV_L5ybC-3QYdXXw9EezryKU53rcRLSS5Llk0ql9YxMRor8CmQt5DY641ialLIiQ3v_JKkbzO4K49-Hn_yn2_1w2Uk-V1QTjtFw3UqV6mkXQoDGTc3=s4160" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><i></i></a></div>When the explosion occurred, B.F. Denton and Janko Acimovich were sawing timber, while Maksim Rupar and George W. Schance were in the process of getting the powder ready to blast.<div><br /></div><div><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgJoPKI-iAj8ZBIVrMzQqmY-vcmg-Kmn75qflaXY4TY8XSldda9nL95S1DnweENiDJSJRgAKWQP1khF1MubHYSzXdWxOXg1Y6Hh2vnz-8i15i3eMXyRxSh8ioMnjIQUexukV9EXWNkIYuT-ZYY4hN2NOjOyKuTrHgsCcwkTna6d11iphDoqUILIBUKN=s2304" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2304" data-original-width="1728" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgJoPKI-iAj8ZBIVrMzQqmY-vcmg-Kmn75qflaXY4TY8XSldda9nL95S1DnweENiDJSJRgAKWQP1khF1MubHYSzXdWxOXg1Y6Hh2vnz-8i15i3eMXyRxSh8ioMnjIQUexukV9EXWNkIYuT-ZYY4hN2NOjOyKuTrHgsCcwkTna6d11iphDoqUILIBUKN=s320" width="240" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Kennedy Mine</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><div><div><br /></div><div>The publication, "Engineering & Mining, Volume 97," reads as follows:</div><div><br /></div><div><i>"Schance intended to blast at 3:30 o'clock, and he was intending to get his primers to take to his place of work in order to save him a trip back to the powder magazine. He worked about 900 or 1000 ft., from the magazine. It was the habit to go to the magazine for powder caps and fuse before quitting time when it was necessary to have them. Schance had two holes to drill in hard, tight ground, and had to carry his tools back and it would keep him busy. He evidently intended to save time by getting the powder and the fuses on his way. Rupar went to the bench where there were five full boxes and a half box; after the explosion there were four full boxes and a box with some powder in it. Evidently, Rupar took one of these boxes of powder to take to near where he worked.....Joseph Hicks stated that he and his partner left the station at 12:30, and in going to into the crosscut he saw Schance sitting on the cap and fuse bench. Schance borrowed his knife. He saw Schance getting ready to walk toward the powder magazine. It was almost 12:35 when he gave Schance the knife and the explosion occurred about 3 to 4 minutes after they had passed him. He could not see whether Schance was in the magazine or not, and did not see Rupar there at all. Denton was sawing a timber. </i></div><div><i><br />C.W. Hintmann said that he passed Denton who said he wanted him directly to help put up a cap which he was sawing. He went around the turn and sat down to wait when Hicks and his partner came along and in a second or so the explosion occurred. It took Hintmann's cap off his head and the lights were all out. There was no powder on the timber or timber truck when he talked with Denton. He believed that whoever took the powder out of the magazine had it on his shoulder.</i></div><div><i><br /></i></div><div><i>All of the witnesses testified that they believed the explosion was wholly accidental."--</i></div><div><br /></div><div>A foreman of the mine, Alex Ross, claimed <i>"that he heard an unusual report while at the 2,700 foot station; that he got off the skip at the 3,100 level when he was met by J.E. Hicks who said Denton and two others had been killed; witness went to the spot and found the smoke very dense, and had a platform knocked out of a near by raise, for the purpose of ventilation; tried to break the airpipe but failed; heard Denton say twice, "What struck us?" felt around and found him and helped carry him to the station; witness was of the opinion that the timber found at the entrance to the drift leading to the powder magazine was cut in two by the explosion of the powder; he also showed the jury by a diagram the position of the four men when found; gave orders to clear up the cross cut; also explained that it was Schance's turn to blast at 3:30 o'clock and in order to save time he (Schance) went to the magazine to take the powder back to where he was at work in the level, and that he (Schance) was drilling 900 or 1000 feet from the magazine; witness detailed the position of the powder as it as usually stored and the fuse bench where the fuse and caps were kept and primers made; that there were five and a half boxes in the magazine during the forenoon and after the explosion four full boxes were in there with a few sticks over; the missing box weighed 50 pounds; that the temperature was 67 or 70 degrees, and in his opinion the 12 x 12 timber was cut in two by the exploding powder; that the powder in the magazine was fully 20 to 30 feet from where the timber lay on a truck in the level; he believed the explosion to be a pure accident."<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4160" data-original-width="3120" height="283" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjXQ9hYpmTC0Ypbw1JhUj_nyTa8N3Endw8ciwdZQSFxQk379rCI0EdF55QKBSmw7ogv591SBTnV_L5ybC-3QYdXXw9EezryKU53rcRLSS5Llk0ql9YxMRor8CmQt5DY641ialLIiQ3v_JKkbzO4K49-Hn_yn2_1w2Uk-V1QTjtFw3UqV6mkXQoDGTc3=w212-h283" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="212" /></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Maksim Rupar's Grave</td></tr></tbody></table></i></div><div><i><br /></i></div><div>As the story went on, it explained that the powder would not have exploded by Rupar dropping it, or by the temperature of the mine, so it appeared that a charge went off while priming the clip, and that it accidentally set off the powder.</div><div><div><br /></div><div>Sadly, Janko Acimovich was hit so hard, it removed his head and upper part of his shoulders.<i> "The head was entirely gone. From shoulder to shoulder the flesh was ragged and torn and the right leg almost flattened between the body and knee. More properly speaking, the limbs were crushed and flattened instead of broken."</i></div><div><i><br /></i></div><div>Acimovich was only 22 years old at the time of his death. He was a native of Austria, and was earning $2.50 per day at the mine.</div><div><i><br /></i></div><div>Denton was alive when he was found, though his injuries were so bad, the newspapers claimed that if he survived his injuries he would be blind for life. He was the only one who survived the terrible accident, as the Amador Ledger Dispatch dated February 27, 1914, claims that he was going to San Francisco to see a specialist for the treatment of his eyes.</div><div><br /></div><div>In 1914, a lawsuit was brought on by Chris Begovich on behalf of Rupar and Acimovich as the "administrator" of their estates against the Kennedy Mine and Milling Company, and judgement was rendered by Judge Wood, allowing for the compensation of $250 for funeral expenses and $500 for damages.</div><div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiRhltIlV2RG0Vrm7Q779bcaykQpgdy_MIX5Y8Bt1L9umflKpphAZIUuIpr1eeOfUrZQzLj4vPKwej5KXOgZPJKJkDO-bjDZId0BYQOCFvPVRp6sM_q5mJby4A_CWqmO3Em6RRSfJKpQpEBcXUT-8GGduykcWp2_De7EsrNb8c6IN_X2E1McGkXkfES=s4160" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4160" data-original-width="3120" height="281" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiRhltIlV2RG0Vrm7Q779bcaykQpgdy_MIX5Y8Bt1L9umflKpphAZIUuIpr1eeOfUrZQzLj4vPKwej5KXOgZPJKJkDO-bjDZId0BYQOCFvPVRp6sM_q5mJby4A_CWqmO3Em6RRSfJKpQpEBcXUT-8GGduykcWp2_De7EsrNb8c6IN_X2E1McGkXkfES=w211-h281" width="211" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Janko Acimovich's grave</td></tr></tbody></table><br /></div><div>George W. Schance was found with his right arm <i>"torn off"</i> and his right leg crushed. His face was <i>"practically gone and the left side, torn away." </i>George's family were originally from El Dorado County, and he was only 23 year years old when he died. He had been earning $3 a day in wages.</div><div><br /></div><div>Maksim Rupar has lost his left eye, and his right leg was broken. He was only 26 years old and had only just started working at the mine 3 days earlier. He was also a native of Austria.</div><div><br /></div><div>Recently, I visited the St. Sava Serbian Cemetery in Jackson, and searched for Janko Acimovich and Makism Rupar's graves. Both men were buried and services held on November 21, 1913. The funeral was delayed due to the fact that Acimovich's brother had to travel from Montana to attend. They are both buried side by side, in the back of the churchyard in the Miner's Graves section of the cemetery.</div><div><br /></div><div>George W. Schance was buried at the Jackson City Cemetery on November 19, 1913, under the "auspices of the local order of Moose, the interment being in the city cemetery."-</div><div><br /></div><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiNLj2B3NnZalfZGMsdcUmVc22qVw_zpFLBTXRWq7Ii6CsBfB87l1Q7qP7UGXrvl8qYu5CI4j0-mOndSHPsK59_H0A-ht0sP9oOES-0NLv665llsnORnlSyc0wp5kN1Nhl9Eyjc-hUDa1Ld1ZyeuZGLNgyfExDbe-l0JJGOHu2cmDiN2OCTrhMK0Mdc=s962" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="617" data-original-width="962" height="205" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiNLj2B3NnZalfZGMsdcUmVc22qVw_zpFLBTXRWq7Ii6CsBfB87l1Q7qP7UGXrvl8qYu5CI4j0-mOndSHPsK59_H0A-ht0sP9oOES-0NLv665llsnORnlSyc0wp5kN1Nhl9Eyjc-hUDa1Ld1ZyeuZGLNgyfExDbe-l0JJGOHu2cmDiN2OCTrhMK0Mdc=s320" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Photo Credit: Steve Jones (Find-a-grave)</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><div>I have searched for B.F. Denton's obituary and his grave, and have yet to find either of the two, although we do know that he survived the accident per this article in the Ledger Dispatch, February 27, 1914. If and when I find more information about Denton, I will share it here. </div><div><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEi9BoYBtvP8TWcJ0MlCztippHHylx43oP-I7VAAm733k1rKcXrmJKU-9JzOyWoxCqv5MbnkXmITXmMSuy4No47WNdyTbJETJiun-fk0y9Xk99Kre7qBXuiTJcQyvlUu5WAXO4MO_sdnrYh4G_6txjfGqkkyrjSTPoqU2kTzGsygjKo-wag6Ly7IUc02=s206" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="115" data-original-width="206" height="216" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEi9BoYBtvP8TWcJ0MlCztippHHylx43oP-I7VAAm733k1rKcXrmJKU-9JzOyWoxCqv5MbnkXmITXmMSuy4No47WNdyTbJETJiun-fk0y9Xk99Kre7qBXuiTJcQyvlUu5WAXO4MO_sdnrYh4G_6txjfGqkkyrjSTPoqU2kTzGsygjKo-wag6Ly7IUc02=w387-h216" width="387" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Amador Ledger-Dispatch, 2/27/1914</td></tr></tbody></table><p>In ending, I hope that you enjoyed this deep dive into just one of the many stories I cover in my upcoming book <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Behind-Walls-Historical-Preston-Industry/dp/1481075047?ref_=ast_author_dp">"Down Below: A History of Deaths at the Kennedy Mine,"</a> which details each and every one of the tragic the deaths at the Kennedy Mine during its years of operation. This publication will be released sometime in the Summer of 2023.</p><p>In ending, please remember, each one of those individuals were young, hard working men who died before they even had a chance to really live. Just the thought of them never having reached any of their goals they might have had in life makes it all the more tragic. So many of them rest at the various cemeteries in Amador County, forgotten and unvisited for so very long. If you decide to visit any of these men's graves please remember their stories and please share it with the world so that they will be forgotten no more.</p><p>(Copyright 2022 - J'aime Rubio, <a href="http://www.jaimerubiowriter.com">www.jaimerubiowriter.com</a>) </p><p>Photos: </p><p>Photos of Acimovich and Rupar's grave, miner's graves shot, and Kennedy Mine photo, copyright J'aime Rubio</p><p>Photo of George Schance's grave, copyright Steve Jones (Find-a-grave)</p><p>Sources:</p><p>Sacramento Union, 11/18/1913</p><p>Sacramento Union, 5/2/1914</p><p>Amador Ledger Dispatch, 11/21/1913</p><p>San Jose Mercury News, 11/18/1913</p><p>Amador Ledger Dispatch, 2/27/1914</p><p>Engineering & Mining, Volume 97, published by Western Co., 1914</p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p></div></div></div>J'aime Rubio, Authorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00087085042404097820noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5490891062683504396.post-77797780880405177892022-02-06T21:24:00.012-08:002022-05-23T12:28:58.348-07:00Immaculate Conception Cemetery's Mystery of the Two Missing Graves - Sutter Creek<p><br /></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwguNV_IF6Cnlh-56xtIUHKL_Q8RzxaYxAj_3Fp3RYhLwpIP690fe5lCe4lj0I9XAlk0xDHj4pUkZQmPpsh_4-NIHaeHrWSRzwPqpe6DKL5-6xPT92xqomKBrz1n_znq3XjY_RKfr1s_F-DiJo4EZWB1lhhUGBIE-qa_cx0M8HD9bY9Nz0ul7qjRJD/s4160/20220204_135739.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3120" data-original-width="4160" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwguNV_IF6Cnlh-56xtIUHKL_Q8RzxaYxAj_3Fp3RYhLwpIP690fe5lCe4lj0I9XAlk0xDHj4pUkZQmPpsh_4-NIHaeHrWSRzwPqpe6DKL5-6xPT92xqomKBrz1n_znq3XjY_RKfr1s_F-DiJo4EZWB1lhhUGBIE-qa_cx0M8HD9bY9Nz0ul7qjRJD/w640-h480/20220204_135739.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The backside of the Parish Hall property, Sutter Creek</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><p>Recently, one of my fellow researcher/taphophile friends that we will refer to as "Phyllis Jean," had reached out to me about a mystery she wanted answers to. Since she has helped me in some of my investigations, I agreed to help her with this one and she so kindly gave me permission to write about it on my blog.</p><p>So, the story starts out at the Immaculate Conception Churchyard and its adjacent Parish Hall at 190 Fogarty Drive, Sutter Creek, CA. At one point around 2018, the site where the Parish Hall stands was listed for sale, and this is where the problems began. When the cemetery or churchyard started on the property next door, there was no definitive borderline where to stop burying the dead. So, there were some burials in the vicinity of where the Parish Hall stands. </p><p>The cemetery itself dates back to 1858, but the church wasn't built until around 1860-1861. The land had been donated by the Mahoney family, and 15 members of said family happen to be buried within the grounds as well. </p><p>The website Movoto lists the Parish Hall building, on the side of the cemetery, as being built in 1980, although I am not sure if that is entirely accurate, as my parents remembered something being on that site back when they lived on Spanish Street in the early 1970's. </p><p>Well, fast forward to 2018, the property needed to be separate from the actual church property in order to sell it as separate land, so they had to "move" any of the graves that spilled over onto that property.</p><p>My friend "Phyllis Jean" claimed she remembered something about the newspaper mentioning the possible moving of the graves, but when she went back to search for it, she couldn't find it in any of the archived newspapers, as neither could I. <br /></p><p>This left me perplexed. </p><p>We both separately "Googled" the property for a street view of the site and we both stumbled upon the sight of two headstones laying up against a retaining wall in plain sight. I also double checked other photos of the cemetery area, and found several photos of the headstones when they were upright and in their rightful place. This meant that they had recently been removed in the last 3 years or so. </p><p>So who do these two headstones belong to?</p><p>Well, since the headstones were facing the retaining wall and not clearly visible, it took having to physically visit the cemetery and lay on the ground in a very awkward position just to snap a few shots.</p><p>One person's headstone was easier to capture than the other. In fact, I could only get a tiny fragment of the other person's name and had to run to Find-a-grave in the hopes they had been entered in their database before. Thankfully they were. So I was able to find both individuals by name.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6gKq7HKmJFUOxd4HGCTGxivumybH21fuIe4dqfO9BZlwWqQaszK8UiyalXEH8xj36HYV5_dmQunQ46P3Y9BxQtBweEptLz4P8v5jlfrHeeULOpEdxK656rNxdhMaWLZjo-nkaD2sO-RnSBEIG2DZe-H0lojfTENPbENrIlmVHo3TwwO2AcrcLKoet/s4160/20220204_135701.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><br /></a></div><p><u><b>#1. William Garrett </b></u></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgViAfCrvL_IfuElrixzbwv7JqDaMHnjzHGvv_oeFC9DohhAl7owP2WxJlIaR4X6BbkPFRGcmSwJc21bpecLqTD3txLZnIQ_TpJj61yvV55DRy11P9HZLIjahbkeTT4--kAHBNsRWbWp-uEHJssLFJ45UlcEEgJ_cBcpQgxHU2tAZvTeIkV0IaYQqCU/s4160/20220204_135701.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3120" data-original-width="4160" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgViAfCrvL_IfuElrixzbwv7JqDaMHnjzHGvv_oeFC9DohhAl7owP2WxJlIaR4X6BbkPFRGcmSwJc21bpecLqTD3txLZnIQ_TpJj61yvV55DRy11P9HZLIjahbkeTT4--kAHBNsRWbWp-uEHJssLFJ45UlcEEgJ_cBcpQgxHU2tAZvTeIkV0IaYQqCU/s320/20220204_135701.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><p></p><p>William Garrett was born in Ireland around 1837. The voting registries of the time circa 1867 state that William was "naturalized" a citizen on September 4, 1866, and registered to vote as of April 12, 1867. He was also listed as living in Township #5, which the History of Amador County by Jesse D. Mason mentions that township as being around Drytown, Amador City and Forest Home (Plymouth area). He passed away on October 20, 1877 and was buried at the Immaculate Conception Churchyard.</p><p><a href="https://www.findagrave.com/memorial/208987324/william-garrett">https://www.findagrave.com/memorial/208987324/william-garrett</a></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigwT5CULiTcXqKwaYHQLlinVKcEDSiBG5FV8aXWrrLW2ErvNwYsMea6iS8Kzj9RjeeFSYGRXhwkBXA6IYsYPlbTKSH5hRZmK7_HaNq8wZcO8oGcWp-Tyi-fSjCLT2kOagwRwpytjsQbx-dDTuwirJaHe9pSrLpCZZnct3SEj5YvvIiv4BOmkzBhdXe/s4160/20220204_135905.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3120" data-original-width="4160" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigwT5CULiTcXqKwaYHQLlinVKcEDSiBG5FV8aXWrrLW2ErvNwYsMea6iS8Kzj9RjeeFSYGRXhwkBXA6IYsYPlbTKSH5hRZmK7_HaNq8wZcO8oGcWp-Tyi-fSjCLT2kOagwRwpytjsQbx-dDTuwirJaHe9pSrLpCZZnct3SEj5YvvIiv4BOmkzBhdXe/s320/20220204_135905.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p><b><u>#2. Dennis Shine</u></b></p><p>Dennis Shine was born in Limerick, Ireland around 1816. Unfortunately, I could not find any voting registries for Dennis, nor could I locate any census records for either Shine or Garrett. He passed away on October 10, 1877 and was buried at the Immaculate Conception Churchyard.</p><p>Also, because the Amador Dispatch and Ledger newspapers have no records for the year 1877, which happens to be the same year both of the deceased passed away, there is no way to obtain an obituary for these two gentlemen. </p><p><a href="https://www.findagrave.com/memorial/140018257/dennis-shine">https://www.findagrave.com/memorial/140018257/dennis-shine</a></p><p>Interestingly, according to the US Gen Web Archives, the cemeteries burial records do not include either Garrett or Shine. I downloaded the complete list of burials and confirmed that neither men were listed as being buried in 1877, as they only had 4 burials that year. Somehow, someone failed to make a note of these two burials in their original records. Needless to say, this bothered me, and my friend "Phyllis Jean." </p><p>Along with those facts, and the fact we now knew that the headstones had be removed from their place of burial, this worried us that their remains were going to be left there unmarked and forgotten so the property could be sold. This would not be the first time this has happened, as it is well known that when the cemeteries in San Francisco were moved, and bodies exhumed and reinterred to Colma, many monuments were tossed into the sea, and many bodies were left in the ground. </p><p>Also, the Stockton State Hospital "moved" some of their dead on paper only, and opted to sell the land and build on top of said burial grounds leaving the dead still presently buried under the foundations of many buildings along California street in Stockton. </p><p>So, with this worry in mind, I personally reached out to the Immaculate Conception Church for answers. I first spoke with a young lady who wasn't sure how to answer my questions, and she took my number down and said Marge would call me back. </p><p>When I finally spoke to Marge, she assured me that the remains of both Garrett and Shine had been removed in a two step process, by using ground penetrating radar, and then removing the remains and burying them in an area that had not been used for any previous burials. This was very reassuring as I just wanted to make sure these two people's graves would not be forgotten or erased from history.</p><p>The next day, I received an email from another friend and fellow genealogist from Find-a-grave, Steve Jones, the person who originally entered Mr. Garrett's information into Find-a-grave, who also confirmed the story with me, as he knows Marge, too. He spoke to her and she gave him the same information, that the graves had been moved a while back, and that they had an archeologist come out and someone with the ground penetrating radar machine to search the grounds for the remains. There were witnesses who watched the exhumation and moving of the two deceased individuals remains to a spot in the churchyard where "nothing else existed." </p><p>One good thing that came out of this inquiry though was the fact that it brought to Marge's attention that the person they hired to reset the headstones next to the new burial spots, had not done so, and it has been quite some time. Thankfully, maybe now that this has been brought to the forefront again, this project will get finished once and for all, and Mr. Garrett and Mr. Shine can be reunited with their headstones, once again. </p><p>Update May 2022: A few weeks ago, I received a voicemail from Marge that the headstones were finally properly reunited with their interred eternal residents, Dennis and William. Case closed.</p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbnou6nnlpCaPvliQpP3_zl270IM_OLWFnhtx7HjbWR1UudZRhRl8gNYXUpP4RV9A4jHh1wfepovR2NBz8CRvH07fiYQe9jXRhoI2rCG3j3Nw_R27rSTQnafGrzguP5D6LDCuVcu4vvdFL6XTqEHz1BZYSd09cky7g9UWZ2Sk0MQ3dmZeLwrK8RKS3/s960/13932939_10209280301236621_7752269898644361130_n.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="960" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbnou6nnlpCaPvliQpP3_zl270IM_OLWFnhtx7HjbWR1UudZRhRl8gNYXUpP4RV9A4jHh1wfepovR2NBz8CRvH07fiYQe9jXRhoI2rCG3j3Nw_R27rSTQnafGrzguP5D6LDCuVcu4vvdFL6XTqEHz1BZYSd09cky7g9UWZ2Sk0MQ3dmZeLwrK8RKS3/w640-h480/13932939_10209280301236621_7752269898644361130_n.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><p></p><p>(Copyright 2022- J'aime Rubio, <a href="http://www.jaimerubiowriter.com">www.jaimerubiowriter.com</a>)</p>J'aime Rubio, Authorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00087085042404097820noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5490891062683504396.post-88624016551531475962022-01-28T20:44:00.004-08:002022-02-04T19:59:31.443-08:001898 Shingle Springs Tragedy - A Precursor to Domestic Homicide 20 Years Later<p> </p><p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="background: white; color: #222222;"><i>“History will always repeat itself.”</i> </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">Those were the words of Greek
historian Thucydides, spoken in the 5</span><sup style="color: #222222;">th</sup><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"> Century BC, and yet still
today, no truer words could be spoken.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="background: white; color: #222222;">In fact, in my line of work researching the past, I have
often found tragedies which seemed to repeat themselves in a later generation,
almost as if it were some sort of vicious cycle. As if a sinister, cosmic wheel kept spinning in the same circle within a family lineage, like a broken record,
repeating the events with no rhyme or reason as to why.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="background: white; color: #222222;">Today, I am going to share with you the story of Albina Keyes,
but we will also take a deep dive into her family history to see just how death
seemed to follow the women in her family, almost as if in a pattern, one after
the other, just in different time periods. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">Several years ago, I shared the sad events relating to the
murder of Albina. As tragic as her story was, I
had no idea that years later, I would come in contact with her great, great
grand daughter Adria Bowman, and together we would unravel another family
mystery. The odd thing about Albina’s story was that the more we dug into her
family history, the more we discovered that this story had all happened once before.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhh5Af0pzQVUBtfNrpc6AMZQOODszA41F0pZJtZbCGSV0ux5k0WDBLMwjgeUu_m5JwqJqDcTP1f0LOW_0f4Ip2_jrY1WwH0PlI9HkDN7qoEf3EMdRe2TM8mRV2cbTyCuEB8AFZ5VA3XmR7dHmdIjXrz85xBv0zbK278_AVzauYsSMLKxbXvhSm0gNFT=s754" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="754" data-original-width="329" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhh5Af0pzQVUBtfNrpc6AMZQOODszA41F0pZJtZbCGSV0ux5k0WDBLMwjgeUu_m5JwqJqDcTP1f0LOW_0f4Ip2_jrY1WwH0PlI9HkDN7qoEf3EMdRe2TM8mRV2cbTyCuEB8AFZ5VA3XmR7dHmdIjXrz85xBv0zbK278_AVzauYsSMLKxbXvhSm0gNFT=w175-h400" width="175" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Photo of Amanda Dale</td></tr></tbody></table><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="background: white; color: #222222;">So, before I get to the details of Albina’s life and death,
first I will share with you the original tragedy, the one that I believe
started it all.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It all begins in the
Miwok Village within the area of Shingle Springs, California.<br /><o:p></o:p></span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="background: white; color: #222222;">The year is 1898, and Mary Robinson and her daughter Amanda
Dale are living on the Miwok reservation at Shingle Springs, California. Amanda’s
father, Abraham Dale and her mother, Mary, had split earlier on in Amanda’s
life. Mary remarried two more times, eventually settling down with a Native
American medicine man by the name of William Joseph, and they had several
children together.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Mary, Amanda’s
mother, was half Native American and half black, while Amanda’s father was of
English descent. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="background: white; color: #222222;">Amanda was an adult by this time in 1898. In fact, she was 21
years old, with two children of her own. When Amanda was just 14 years old, she
fell in love with an older, married man, and found herself in a precarious
position. The man, Francisco Bergala, a native of Chile, had moved up to the gold country during the Gold Rush and settled there, eventually marrying Susan
Nieda of Sutter Creek. The two had seven children together. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="background: white; color: #222222;">According to documented records, during the summer of 1890, </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">Susan
had to undergo an operation for some sort of health issue, and it rendered her
an invalid for the rest of her life. Instead of taking care of his wife and
children, Francisco left his wife’s care with his children and he took Amanda
as his “common law” wife. Soon, his first family found themselves destitute and begging
for assistance from the county for financial aid in order to survive.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="background: white; color: #222222;">News spread around the area quickly, and soon Francisco found
himself indicted not only for adultery, but also rape, being that Amanda was
only 14 years old at the time they had relations. Not only that, but Amanda
also soon found herself pregnant, and in October of 1891,
Amanda gave birth to her first child, Albina Bergala.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="background: white; color: #222222;">The newspapers relay the
story in the Mountain Democrat dated January 23, 1892, mentioning that the Grand
Jury indicted Francisco, and a guilty verdict was found. It appears as though he
didn’t do any real jail time, as the records stated he faced 125 days in jail or a fine
of $250.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="background: white; color: #222222;">It looks as though eventually Francisco Bergala was out of
the picture, and Amanda started a relationship and eventually married Jack “Acorn
Jack” Nickel, who happened to be her step-father’s nephew. After thorough
research into the case, both Adria and I have come to the conclusion that
Amanda possibly had one other child, this time with Jack. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="background: white; color: #222222;">According to oral histories transcribed of William Joseph,
Amanda’s step-father, he stated that Amanda and her brother Jesseway’s paternal
grandmother, had passed away in Missouri, and since their father Abraham had
predeceased her, an inheritance was owed to the two siblings. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><i><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="background: white; color: #222222;"><b>“The grandmother of those two died in Missouri, and
apparently left everything to them, money and a ten-thousand-dollar house in a
town in Missouri. This girl, Mandy said, “Write for me, stepfather, I want five
hundred and fifty dollars,” she said. “The money my grandmother left is said to
be there, left for me.” I wrote her uncle who was called Jacob C. Dale, the
check came.” -- William Joseph, oral history.</b><o:p></o:p></span></i></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="background: white; color: #222222;">Sadly though, Amanda did not keep her personal financial
information a secret and when she became involved with Jack Nickel, she later
found this was a terrible mistake. Once Acorn Jack learned that she had a
substantial inheritance, and after becoming her husband, he took the money and
squandered it on booze and gambling. It lasted a grand total of three months
without Amanda ever having seen one dime of it.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="background: white; color: #222222;">One day while William Joseph was at work, which was just over the hill, a fight between Amanda and Jack ensued. The
newspapers mentioned that it was jealousy that threw Jack into a fit of rage,
and he took his rifle and shot Amanda and her mother, Mary, killing them both. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><i><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="background: white; color: #222222;"><b>“Triple Homicide”-- “Last Saturday afternoon, near the
Greenstone mine, at the home of his mother-in-law, Mrs. Wm. Joseph, a quadroon*.
Jack Nickel shot and killed her and his wife, an octoroon.*<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In shooting the latter he wounded a child
which she was holding in her arms, and having finished his deadly work he
pulled off one his shoes, put the muzzle of his Winchester rifle against his
heart, touched the trigger with his tow and fell dead with the gun by his side.<o:p></o:p></b></span></i></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><i><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="background: white; color: #222222;"><b>A little daughter of Mrs. Joseph, twelve years old, was the
only eyewitness. A few minutes after the shooting, George Wade carried the news
to Shingle Springs and notice came thence to the coroner, by whom inquests were
held the following day. For some time, the Indian had been sick and using some
sort of medicine and whether too much of the drug or the devil instigated the
brutal homicide may never be known.”</b></span></i><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="background: white; color: #222222;"><b>—Mountain Democrat, November 19<sup>th</sup>,
1898</b><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="background: white; color: #222222;">According to a transcribed account given by William Joseph of what transpired that day, as he recalled it while working with his boss, J.D. Annette: <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><i><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="background: white; color: #222222;">“<b>Acorn Jack must have been angry that day. There were hunters
shooting there all the time. <o:p></o:p></b></span></i></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><i><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="background: white; color: #222222;"><b>I said “I seem to hear shooting.” <o:p></o:p></b></span></i></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><i><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="background: white; color: #222222;"><b>“But maybe it’s those hunters,” J.D. Annette said. “I have heard
women crying right over at your house. Let us go and see!”<o:p></o:p></b></span></i></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><i><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="background: white; color: #222222;"><b>“We went. We met my daughter running. “He has killed my
mother and my elder sister!” she said. <o:p></o:p></b></span></i></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b><i><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="background: white; color: #222222;">And J.D. Annette said, “Don’t go! He will kill you!”</span></i><i><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="background: white; color: #222222;"><o:p> </o:p></span></i></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><i><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="background: white; color: #222222;"><b>“Never mind, I am going, I want to see my wife!”<o:p></o:p></b></span></i></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><i><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="background: white; color: #222222;"><b>“Wait, I will give you my gun!”<o:p></o:p></b></span></i></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><i><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="background: white; color: #222222;"><b>He gave me his gun, a Winchester. I went to the house. He
(his boss) went to the top of that hill to watch me from there. I saw my wife laying
on her back, dead. Going on, I saw the girl laying on her side. Close to her
lay the little two-month old baby, his bullet had apparently grazed its chin.<o:p></o:p></b></span></i></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><i><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="background: white; color: #222222;"><b>I said, “Maybe he is inside.” I ran past the doorway. I saw
that fellow laying in front of me, he<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>had evidently killed himself, shot himself in the breast. The bullet had
apparently not gone through. I shouted to J.D. Annette, “Come, that fellow has
evidently killed himself!”<o:p></o:p></b></span></i></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><i><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="background: white; color: #222222;"><b>We picked up only the two women and took them inside. We did
not take that Acord Jack but let him lie in the same place. Then I went to tell
the police. A lot of white men arrived. After keeping them for two days, I
buried them all. That is what Acorn Jack did there, he killed my wife. That is
that.”</b></span></i><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="background: white; color: #222222;"><b> --- Story # 70, </b></span><b><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;"> </span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">"Nisenan Texts & Dictionary," by Uldall & Shipley, </span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">published by University of California Press, dated 1/1/1966. </span></b></p><p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpLast" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -0.25in;"><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="background: white; color: #222222;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 11.5pt;"> </span><b>– University
of California Press, published Jan, 1, 1966., U.C. Berkeley. </b><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">No more was ever noted about the two-month-old baby, so there
is no information as to where he or she ended up. However, we do know that
Amanda’s older child, Albina, who was only 7 years old at the time ended up
with her father, Francisco Bergala.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="background: white; color: #222222;">So, one would assume that Albina would go off to live with
her father and things would work out, right? Wrong. Unfortunately, fate had its
sights set on poor Albina, and it was going to follow her to the very end.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="background: white; color: #222222;"><b><u>History Repeats Itself-</u></b><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="background: white; color: #222222;">The year was 1907, and by this time Albina was 15 years old. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Census records noted that she and her father
were living in Plymouth at the time. </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">Like her mother did only a little over 15 years ago, it
appears that Albina caught the eye of a much older, John “Jack” Keyes, who was
13 years her senior, and the couple started a sexual relationship. </span><span style="color: #222222; mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">At some point her father must have told her
that she wasn’t allowed to see Jack Keyes, because the Amador Dispatch dated
October 11, 1907, states that Keyes was arrested for the abduction of Albina.
In reality, Albina had run off to be with him, but because Keyes was an adult
at the time, he was accountable to the law.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="background: white; color: #222222;">While still in jail, Albina and her father visited Keyes, and
it was decided that all charges would be dropped if he agreed to marry his daughter.
So, the couple were legally wed on January 16, 1908. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="background: white; color: #222222;">Things started off on the wrong foot, so-to-speak, because
Albina gave birth to their first son alone, while Jack (and his brother Edward
Keyes) were doing time in the penitentiary. They had been arrested for burglary and sent to San
Quentin.</span></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiriNHLr5_Cu2allfObLj1Ve-ek9RZqkOsSpLeFAwyANx7ddqykCWzhbwAN8nnWUbTobU7xoY2h3uaMkVkS-65iFC_nVgB9InsRqRwofIxTzVnM4zbVUxienLjKTsXvOyvietCeSWEjnxLfHYhDLRx48y1z78lNk5MnDL2_QB9XhaRJRqIpfw7xgAHM=s2499" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2499" data-original-width="1748" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiriNHLr5_Cu2allfObLj1Ve-ek9RZqkOsSpLeFAwyANx7ddqykCWzhbwAN8nnWUbTobU7xoY2h3uaMkVkS-65iFC_nVgB9InsRqRwofIxTzVnM4zbVUxienLjKTsXvOyvietCeSWEjnxLfHYhDLRx48y1z78lNk5MnDL2_QB9XhaRJRqIpfw7xgAHM=s320" width="224" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">John "Jack" Keyes</td></tr></tbody></table><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="background: white; color: #222222;"><br /> <o:p></o:p></span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="background: white; color: #222222;">Because of “good behavior” the two were paroled early. Jack
was released September 1910, while Edward was released in 1911.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="background: white; color: #222222;">During the time that Jack was incarcerated, Albina and her
son, Johnny moved back with her father. The census records for 1910 shows them
living in Plymouth with Francisco.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="background: white; color: #222222;">When Keyes was released Albina and Johnny went back with him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="background: white; color: #222222;">Not even a year later, Jack and Albina are in the newspapers
again, this time after their son Johnny went missing. The Amador Ledger mentions
that three-year-old Johnny disappeared, but later his parents admitted that he
had been given away to campers named Mr. & Mrs. Smith, who had recently
lost their own child. According to the Keyes (Jack and Albina) they had given
their child away to the family because they couldn’t afford to take care of
him, as they were in financial difficulties. No one ever found out who these
alleged campers were, and no records have ever been found to validate their
story. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="background: white; color: #222222;">When I read this information, I was taken aback. Something in
my gut said this story just didn’t add up. And it still doesn’t.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Steve Jones, genealogist, and Find-a-grave
contributor, whom I have been in contact with for several years regarding
Albina’s story, also thought the story was suspicious, as did Albina’s great-great
granddaughter Adria, as well.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>All three
of us have speculated that Johnny’s disappearance didn’t happen the way Keyes claimed,
and that perhaps little Johnny met an untimelier ending, and sadly, one that we
will never be able to confirm.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="background: white; color: #222222;">Moving forward, Albina and Jack went on to have more children.
Marguerite was born in 1913, William in 1915, and lastly Marie on March 6, 1918.
<br />
<br />
According to the newspaper articles discovered by Steve Jones, they state that 5
year-old Marguerite died at a Sacramento hospital on May 10, 1918, which was
the result of swallowing a pine nut which lodged in her throat a few days
before. Her grandmother, Marguerite Keyes Morales, brought her to the hospital
in Sacramento for treatment. The nut had been removed by way of an operation,
but she died from the infection that followed her surgery. She was buried in
the Keyes family plot in Plymouth.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="background: white; color: #222222;">Unfortunately, this would not be the last of the tragedies to
befall Albina or the family itself.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="background: white; color: #222222;">The original article I discovered so many years ago, the very story
that first drew my attention to Albina’s story, reads:<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b><i><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="background: white; color: black; font-size: 11.5pt; line-height: 107%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">The Tragedy -- August 29, 1918</span></i></b><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: black; font-size: 11.5pt; line-height: 107%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br />
<i><span style="background: white;"><br />
<b>"Brutal Husband Kills Wife And Child With Axe-</b></span></i><br />
<i><span style="background: white;"><br /><b>
One of the most brutal murders it has been our duty to record occurred
yesterday sometime before noon at the Head place*, about two miles
up the ridge from the Summit House, when Jack Keyes with the blunt side of an
axe crushed the skull of his wife, Bina Keyes, aged 24, and then inflicted a
fatal blow with the same instrument on the forehead of their 6 month old
daughter, Marie Keyes. </b></span></i><b><br />
<i><span style="background: white;"><br />
The first known of the crime was about 8:30 last night, when Keyes came to the
County Hospital in Jackson and asked Superintendent Murphy for some
poison. Murphy asked what he wanted it for, and Keyes replied that his
had killed his wife and baby with an axe. Murphy told him it was hard to get
poison but Mr. Dodd, the nurse, would take him down town for some, and while
they walked away from the building Murphy quickly called up the Sheriff, who
met Keyes shortly after this side of the hospital. Keyes told the Sheriff he
had killed his wife and baby because a lady told him his wife was an anarchist.
The Sheriff placed Keyes in jail and went to the scene of the murder.</span></i><br />
<i><span style="background: white;"><br />
When asked why he killed the child, Keyes said he figured the baby was an
anarchist also. He said he struck his wife several times with the axe before
the fatal blow crushed her skull. After the murder Keyes washed the bodies,
dressed and covered them. He sat around the house during the afternoon, until
the time he came to Jackson.</span></i><br />
<i><span style="background: white;"><br />
Keyes showed absolutely no signs of being intoxicated, as testified to by both
Superintendent Murphy and Sheriff Lucot at the inquest held here today by
Coroner Dolores A. Potter.</span></i><br />
<i><span style="background: white;"><br />
During the inquest Keyes, angered at the removal of a stove poker from his
reach, sprang from his chair and attacked Deputy Sheriff Ford. Instantly a
dozen men were on the job and a well-directed blow on the murderer's neck by
Telephone Manager Watts, a juryman, floored the belligerent.</span></i><br />
</b><i><span style="background: white;"><b><br />
When asked if he had anything to say, Keyes said he wanted to be hanged. Other
than that, he made no further statement. Keyes has been in trouble before. It
is said he and his wife quarreled frequently. She feared to return to him from
the County Hospital, where the baby was born on March 6 of this year."
---Amador Dispatch (8/30/1918)</b><o:p></o:p></span></i></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><i><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="background: white; color: black; font-size: 11.5pt; line-height: 107%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">*(The Head Ranch was located east of Sutter
Creek/Sutter Hill, up Ridge Road, near the Summit Ridge. This was the ranch owned
by James Head, the step-father of the infamous Black Widow of Amador County,
the one and only Emma LeDoux. She was made infamous for the brutal murder of
her husband Albert McVicar in 1906, as well as being a bigamist. To read about
her story, please go to the link here: </span></i><span face="Arial, sans-serif"><span style="font-size: 15.3333px;"><i><a href="https://jaimerubiowriter.blogspot.com/2018/05/emma-ledoux-black-widow-of-amador.html">https://jaimerubiowriter.blogspot.com/2018/05/emma-ledoux-black-widow-of-amador.html</a></i></span></span><i><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="background: white; font-size: 11.5pt; line-height: 107%;"><a href="https://jaimerubiowriter.blogspot.com/2018/05/emma-ledoux-black-widow-of-amador.html" target="_blank"> </a>)</span></i></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjYptBIaXUYt2IkG2eytnCY5hErG18MGUaopMnysZvsHoCWsCHJBjUV7tJaaDc6naEJvgXFovze4dtzFC_-Gcqda0C6haqr0wUZLOxgqgnh7hp1-YNumgIrsj3koT6PjrxrG0RMbfx1KQhUE1HOwapX-SM3CWNBPz_-390ZwBG-amYahbusSjmoXP7o=s767" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="589" data-original-width="767" height="154" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjYptBIaXUYt2IkG2eytnCY5hErG18MGUaopMnysZvsHoCWsCHJBjUV7tJaaDc6naEJvgXFovze4dtzFC_-Gcqda0C6haqr0wUZLOxgqgnh7hp1-YNumgIrsj3koT6PjrxrG0RMbfx1KQhUE1HOwapX-SM3CWNBPz_-390ZwBG-amYahbusSjmoXP7o=w200-h154" width="200" /></a></div><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="background: white; color: black; font-size: 11.5pt; line-height: 107%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">By October of 1918, Keyes was declared unfit for trial due to
being “insane,” and was sent down to the Stockton State Hospital for treatment
until fit to be tried for the murders. By May 23<sup>rd</sup>, 1919, Keyes made
headlines once again, when he escaped from the Stockton State Hospital by “slipping
out of line passing from one yard to another.”<br /><o:p></o:p></span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="background: white; color: black; font-size: 11.5pt; line-height: 107%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">He was on the lam for about 6 months when Amador County Sheriff
George Lucot received a tip that Keyes might be at the Lincoln Ranch. Quickly,
Lucot went to check out his lead, and sure enough, he was able to apprehend his
prisoner. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="background: white; color: black; font-size: 11.5pt; line-height: 107%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">One note that I would like to make is that in my research of
stories pertaining to crimes in Amador County history, I have found so many
times that Sheriff Lucot is personally involved in apprehending the criminal. Sheriff
George Lucot was the longest standing Sheriff in Amador County history, and to
my knowledge, the State of California, and possibly even the United States as a
whole, as well. George Lucot became Sheriff in 1914 and retired in 1954, making
his career of a Sheriff a grand total of 40 years. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="background: white; color: black; font-size: 11.5pt; line-height: 107%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">While investigating the local history within Amador County, I have watched stories reveal
themselves to me, by way of the old microfilms at the library. Case by case,
Sheriff Lucot always seemed to be one step ahead, catching the bad guy
and saving the day. He has become a hero in my book, just as Sheriff Phoenix is
to me, (the very first Amador County Sheriff).<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="background: white; color: black; font-size: 11.5pt; line-height: 107%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">From hostage crisis situations, attempting to spearhead the
rescue of the greatest mining accident in U.S. history, down to hunting down a
murderer, even going across state lines in order to do so, George Lucot saw
it all, did it all, and was prepared to do whatever it took to catch his
prisoner. With his keen investigation skills, he remained the larger-than-life
force that Amador County needed for so many years. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="background: white; color: black; font-size: 11.5pt; line-height: 107%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><b><u>Back to the story-</u></b><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="background: white; color: black; font-size: 11.5pt; line-height: 107%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">After being apprehended on November 10, 1919, Keyes was declared
sane enough for trial, but pled guilty on November 14, and was
sentenced on Monday, November 17, by Judge Wood. On November 20,
1919, Keyes was received at San Quentin Prison, but only lasted there for a
week, and was then transferred on November 28, 1919 to Folsom, where he
remained for the time being. The 1920 Census records show him as a “quarryman”
and of course, an inmate, at Folsom. His records note that he was then
transferred to the Napa Asylum on November 16, 1921 – and from there things get
sketchy.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="background: white; color: black; font-size: 11.5pt; line-height: 107%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">According to notes by Dorothy Pinotti, she claimed he died
while at Napa and his remains were brought back to Plymouth and buried in the
Keyes family plot at the cemetery. However, there are no death records
available to validate this. Even Napa County Hospital was unable to confirm
this with me. You see, there is a John
Keys (not Keyes) listed in the 1930 and 1940 Census records at the hospital in
Napa, but the information on this person does not match our Keyes. For one, John
Keys in the 1930 census states his mother and father are from Ohio, while we
know our John KEYES’ parents were from Ireland and Canada. I scoured through
the patient list for the entire hospital and found a few other “Keys” but no
one with the same name, and no one with matching family background. It is as if
John Joseph Keyes just vanished. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="background: white; color: black; font-size: 11.5pt; line-height: 107%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">And with no death certificate available on record, I cannot definitively
state that he is buried at the Keyes family plot in Plymouth. So, the
whereabouts of his remains and his mortal ending is still somewhat of a mystery, for now.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="background: white; color: black; font-size: 11.5pt; line-height: 107%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">So what happened to baby Johnny, who disappeared at 3 years of age?
Did John Keyes really give him away to campers, or was it something more
sinister? Did he kill his own child? How did little Marguerite choke on the pine nut? Was that all just an accident,
too? We know for a fact, John lost it mentally, when he took an axe to his wife
and infant daughter Marie, but was he responsible for more deaths than theirs?<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="background: white; color: black; font-size: 11.5pt; line-height: 107%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">What boggles my mind is the fact that by writing about that one
tragedy so many years ago, a story I had unknowingly stumbled upon, in turn has slowly unraveled and uncovered the skeletons of old family secrets hidden between the
pages of the old archives, just waiting and yearning to be told once more. The names
of those people who hadn’t been uttered in over a hundred or more years, were
once spoken of and their stories brought back to life again.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="background: white; color: black; font-size: 11.5pt; line-height: 107%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">When I initially wrote about the tragic story of Albina Keyes’
death it stuck with me. I was emotionally driven by this story to find her
grave, although sadly she has no marker for you to visit. Thanks to Steve Jones’
sleuthing, he found the original sexton cards for the Jackson City Cemetery which
provides clues to where Albina and baby Marie were buried, but their graves are
still unmarked.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 15.3333px;"><br /></span><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="background: white; color: black; font-size: 11.5pt; line-height: 107%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjSuUoKEMbbsWbRwCtgLQKa1lgrtr0WdzOgbnpw4FzurtnsKknt7o6vqjem2-8FOP8Y6I1UR6lRW7LpiIgEp8Jqa-LMwH0TZu0m3j2BushZYgDEBYdY5EkutfMuJepqOZIoYiWrFFUXuCXOQG36cPKhgKMCyNTi5k53XEGfG96wlof_8-tjr0QK2CfC=s870" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="645" data-original-width="870" height="237" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjSuUoKEMbbsWbRwCtgLQKa1lgrtr0WdzOgbnpw4FzurtnsKknt7o6vqjem2-8FOP8Y6I1UR6lRW7LpiIgEp8Jqa-LMwH0TZu0m3j2BushZYgDEBYdY5EkutfMuJepqOZIoYiWrFFUXuCXOQG36cPKhgKMCyNTi5k53XEGfG96wlof_8-tjr0QK2CfC=w320-h237" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Albina's Burial Card (Sexton Record) </td></tr></tbody></table><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="background: white; color: black; font-size: 11.5pt; line-height: 107%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br /> <o:p></o:p></span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="background: white; color: black; font-size: 11.5pt; line-height: 107%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">I believe that Amanda Dale and Mary Robinson are buried on
the native burial grounds in Shingle Springs somewhere, although I am unsure if
the area is accessible, let alone whether there is any sort of marker for them
there at all.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="background: white; color: black; font-size: 11.5pt; line-height: 107%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">In regard to the other Keyes’ children, we will never know what
happened to Johnny. Marguerite was buried in the family plot in Plymouth in 1918
and William, the one child who seemed to dodge a bullet so-to-speak, was raised
by his paternal grandparents in Plymouth per the 1920, 1930 census records. He
eventually grew up and moved away, and it is his great granddaughter Adria who
contacted me after reading my original blog about Albina. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="background: white; color: black; font-size: 11.5pt; line-height: 107%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">I hope that one day, by getting enough exposure to Albina’s
story, we can drum up enough interest within the community to erect a marker for
both Albina and baby Marie at the Jackson Cemetery where they have been resting,
undetected and unknown for far too long. They both deserve to be remembered and
no longer be part of the forgotten. --</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiuBW4TsC1powoWW0GPAL1luxmXBlZu_9mHCww744QVeMfrVC5WmxBnvOz26K4TPnfvybppb2QIBR70RbocXoTok5ebsp1KTZw6Mt8h4vyMV6RGKplyOrbl5reTOr0gGRdqwomUfv5GSSJ88b-xxJeHDEUnDU4sEAxix3rMW4j-bSiMD7a0rCNegKjo=s400" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="300" data-original-width="400" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiuBW4TsC1powoWW0GPAL1luxmXBlZu_9mHCww744QVeMfrVC5WmxBnvOz26K4TPnfvybppb2QIBR70RbocXoTok5ebsp1KTZw6Mt8h4vyMV6RGKplyOrbl5reTOr0gGRdqwomUfv5GSSJ88b-xxJeHDEUnDU4sEAxix3rMW4j-bSiMD7a0rCNegKjo=w640-h480" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span face="Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 12.32px;">According to Steve Jones, this is the spot where Albina and Marie are said to be buried</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 12.32px;" /><span face="Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 12.32px;">in an unmarked grave. Hopefully in the future I will be able to definitely state exactly where in</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 12.32px;" /><span face="Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 12.32px;">this general area they both are buried, and perhaps maybe (with the cemetery board's help) we can</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 12.32px;" /><span face="Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 12.32px;">obtain permission to get some sort of memorial plaque for them both.</span></td></tr></tbody></table><p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><b><i><br /></i></b></p><p class="MsoNormal"><b><i>A Big Thank You To: Steve Jones (Find-a-Grave Contributor & Researcher) as well as </i></b></p><p class="MsoNormal"><b><i>Adria Bowman, Great Great Granddaughter of Albina Bergala Keyes. </i></b></p><p class="MsoNormal"><b><i><br /></i></b></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 11.5pt;"><b>Copyright 2022 - J'aime Rubio, www.jaimerubiowriter.com</b></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; font-size: 11.5pt;">Sources:</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; font-size: 11.5pt;">Amador Dispatch, 9/30/1918</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; font-size: 11.5pt;">Amador Ledger, 9/30/1918</span></p><p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpFirst" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -0.25in;"><!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: Wingdings; mso-bidi-font-family: Wingdings; mso-fareast-font-family: Wingdings;">n<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal;">
</span></span><!--[endif]-->Amador Dispatch, 9/5/1918<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -0.25in;"><!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: Wingdings; mso-bidi-font-family: Wingdings; mso-fareast-font-family: Wingdings;">n<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal;">
</span></span><!--[endif]-->Amador Dispatch, 5/29/1919<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -0.25in;"><!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: Wingdings; mso-bidi-font-family: Wingdings; mso-fareast-font-family: Wingdings;">n<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal;">
</span></span><!--[endif]-->Stockton Independent 9/1/1918<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -0.25in;"><!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: Wingdings; mso-bidi-font-family: Wingdings; mso-fareast-font-family: Wingdings;">n<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal;">
</span></span><!--[endif]-->Amador Dispatch, 11/20/1919<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -0.25in;"><!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: Wingdings; mso-bidi-font-family: Wingdings; mso-fareast-font-family: Wingdings;">n<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal;">
</span></span><!--[endif]-->Sacramento Daily Union, 6/3/1919<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -0.25in;"><!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: Wingdings; mso-bidi-font-family: Wingdings; mso-fareast-font-family: Wingdings;">n<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal;">
</span></span><!--[endif]-->Amador Ledger Dispatch, 11/13/1919<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -0.25in;"><!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: Wingdings; mso-bidi-font-family: Wingdings; mso-fareast-font-family: Wingdings;">n<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal;">
</span></span><!--[endif]-->Amador Ledger Dispatch 11/21/1919<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -0.25in;"><!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: Wingdings; mso-bidi-font-family: Wingdings; mso-fareast-font-family: Wingdings;">n<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal;">
</span></span><!--[endif]-->Stockton Evening Record, 11/10/1919<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -0.25in;"><!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: Wingdings; mso-bidi-font-family: Wingdings; mso-fareast-font-family: Wingdings;">n<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal;">
</span></span><!--[endif]-->Amador Ledger Dispatch, 5/30/1919<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -0.25in;"><!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: Wingdings; mso-bidi-font-family: Wingdings; mso-fareast-font-family: Wingdings;">n<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal;">
</span></span><!--[endif]-->Amador Ledger Dispatch, 10/25/1918<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -0.25in;"><!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: Wingdings; mso-bidi-font-family: Wingdings; mso-fareast-font-family: Wingdings;">n<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal;">
</span></span><!--[endif]-->Amador Ledger Dispatch, 5/17/1918<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -0.25in;"><!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: Wingdings; mso-bidi-font-family: Wingdings; mso-fareast-font-family: Wingdings;">n<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal;">
</span></span><!--[endif]-->San Francisco Call, 11/14/1898<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -0.25in;"><!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: Wingdings; mso-bidi-font-family: Wingdings; mso-fareast-font-family: Wingdings;">n<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal;">
</span></span><!--[endif]-->Mountain Democrat 11/12/1898<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -0.25in;"><!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: Wingdings; mso-bidi-font-family: Wingdings; mso-fareast-font-family: Wingdings;">n<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal;">
</span></span><!--[endif]-->Amador Ledger, 8/11/1911<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -0.25in;"><!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: Wingdings; mso-bidi-font-family: Wingdings; mso-fareast-font-family: Wingdings;">n<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal;">
</span></span><!--[endif]-->Amador Dispatch, 8/29/1918<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -0.25in;"><!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: Wingdings; mso-bidi-font-family: Wingdings; mso-fareast-font-family: Wingdings;">n<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal;">
</span></span><!--[endif]-->Amador Dispatch, 10/11/1907<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -0.25in;"><!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: Wingdings; mso-bidi-font-family: Wingdings; mso-fareast-font-family: Wingdings;">n<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal;">
</span></span><!--[endif]-->Amador Ledger, 1/17/1908<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -0.25in;"><!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: Wingdings; mso-bidi-font-family: Wingdings; mso-fareast-font-family: Wingdings;">n<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal;">
</span></span><!--[endif]-->Mountain Democrat 1/23/1892<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -0.25in;"><!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: Wingdings; mso-bidi-font-family: Wingdings; mso-fareast-font-family: Wingdings;">n<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal;">
</span></span><!--[endif]-->El Dorado Republican 11/15/1918<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -0.25in;"><!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: Wingdings; mso-bidi-font-family: Wingdings; mso-fareast-font-family: Wingdings;">n<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal;">
</span></span><!--[endif]-->1910,1920,1930,1940 Census Records<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -0.25in;"><!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: Wingdings; mso-bidi-font-family: Wingdings; mso-fareast-font-family: Wingdings;">n<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal;">
</span></span><!--[endif]-->Prison Records, Folsom & San Quentin<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -0.25in;"><!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: Wingdings; mso-bidi-font-family: Wingdings; mso-fareast-font-family: Wingdings;">n<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal;">
</span></span><!--[endif]-->Find-a-grave, Ancestry & Family Search<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -0.25in;"><!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: Wingdings; mso-bidi-font-family: Wingdings; mso-fareast-font-family: Wingdings;">n<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal;">
</span></span><!--[endif]-->Family tree records, from Adria Bowman<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="background: white; font-size: 11.5pt; line-height: 107%;">
</span></p><p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpLast" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -0.25in;"><!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: Wingdings; mso-bidi-font-family: Wingdings; mso-fareast-font-family: Wingdings;">n<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal;">
</span></span><!--[endif]-->Story # 70 of "Nisenan Texts & Dictionary," by Uldall & Shipley, <span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">published by University of California Press, dated
1/1/1966</span></p><p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpLast" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -0.25in;"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="background: white; color: black; font-size: 11.5pt; line-height: 107%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: black; font-size: 11.5pt; line-height: 107%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="background: white; color: #222222;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="background: white; color: #222222;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>J'aime Rubio, Authorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00087085042404097820noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5490891062683504396.post-24498386342271635012021-11-11T14:31:00.004-08:002021-11-12T06:21:50.416-08:00History of the Banta Inn - Separating Fact from Fiction<p></p><p><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: black;"><br /></span></p><p><span face="Arial, sans-serif"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhj3BnPdTi-krpORDArk65_8VZQgz3tNs8IVLzJN_ycXUOxtijWaVxUzCAHElZfU17liUVqKO7CX2VTm36Kgz_4tPnNRe208xr3x_yWp8hOLros-t2W17A-lFX1W7TSkd8LwIcgiJS4MQ4/s1198/Banta+Inn+1+%25282%2529.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="912" data-original-width="1198" height="488" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhj3BnPdTi-krpORDArk65_8VZQgz3tNs8IVLzJN_ycXUOxtijWaVxUzCAHElZfU17liUVqKO7CX2VTm36Kgz_4tPnNRe208xr3x_yWp8hOLros-t2W17A-lFX1W7TSkd8LwIcgiJS4MQ4/w640-h488/Banta+Inn+1+%25282%2529.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><p></p>I had been hearing
for years about this allegedly haunted spot near Tracy, California known as the
Banta Inn. There are all sorts of write-ups online about it, and even a few
books that mention the location as well. With each telling and retelling of the
story, it is apparent that 99% of the people who have published about the Banta
Inn have just regurgitated the same story they got from somebody else. Sadly,
most people are notorious for this and it doesn't help the location by
continuing to tell incorrect history about it.<p></p>
<p style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; orphans: 2; text-decoration-color: initial; text-decoration-style: initial; text-decoration-thickness: initial; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: black;">So, a few years
back my fiance and I headed out to Banta, a small town just outside of Tracy,
to check out this "haunted" Banta Inn. From the exterior, it just
looks like an old bar. Nothing special. But, when you get inside, it truly is a
really cool place. The bar has dollar bills hanging from the ceiling, and old decor that you would seen in an old dive. The atmosphere inside alone was something worth taking note of. We sat down in the cafe area towards the back, and I sipped on a Shirley Temple as the waitress was kind enough to bring us a folder of newspaper clippings, not of historic value, but of ghost stories having been published in recent years. We enjoyed our quiet time, as we were the only patrons there that afternoon, and we walked around taking photos and just soaking up the atmosphere for a little while. <br /><br />By the time we stepped out of there, I was determined to find out the true history of this historic location and it has been my mission to do this ever since.</span></p><p style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; orphans: 2; text-decoration-color: initial; text-decoration-style: initial; text-decoration-thickness: initial; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjG8ZOLfgkMhI5FWwG05UP3TYcJlhHBDmy9Jercuy9oKsOmq3OAUFnShkhhXctA0f-M-6tM8SDYnNtvV68T9QIlgOtWHzeduXlOk08rXu7FHKf3c5sQgSzpNvrx2uBDEC2mv3X_ISn41ss/s2048/banta+inn+4+%25282%2529.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjG8ZOLfgkMhI5FWwG05UP3TYcJlhHBDmy9Jercuy9oKsOmq3OAUFnShkhhXctA0f-M-6tM8SDYnNtvV68T9QIlgOtWHzeduXlOk08rXu7FHKf3c5sQgSzpNvrx2uBDEC2mv3X_ISn41ss/w400-h300/banta+inn+4+%25282%2529.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-LeWTpU1yLJM/YY2YZvDe6gI/AAAAAAAAKME/ocak28tjH6ssgj5tYF8jGTHpFO6ezvyVACLcBGAsYHQ/s2048/banta%2Binn%2B10%2B%25282%2529.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="300" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-LeWTpU1yLJM/YY2YZvDe6gI/AAAAAAAAKME/ocak28tjH6ssgj5tYF8jGTHpFO6ezvyVACLcBGAsYHQ/w400-h300/banta%2Binn%2B10%2B%25282%2529.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: black;"><br /></span><p></p><p style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; orphans: 2; text-decoration-color: initial; text-decoration-style: initial; text-decoration-thickness: initial; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif">So, what is the true history of this location?</span></p>
<p style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; orphans: 2; text-decoration-color: initial; text-decoration-style: initial; text-decoration-thickness: initial; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: black;">Well, let's start
out with the legends and lore that have been circulating for a very long time,
and then I will get to the truth.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; orphans: 2; text-decoration-color: initial; text-decoration-style: initial; text-decoration-thickness: initial; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: black;">To begin, if you
go over to the "Historical Marker Database" online it says:<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; orphans: 2; text-decoration-color: initial; text-decoration-style: initial; text-decoration-thickness: initial; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;"><i><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: black;">"</span></i><i><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: #111111;">Originally built as a two
storey saloon / sporting house in 1879 by Frank Gallegos, reputed former member
of Joaquin Murrieta's band. The inn has continued as a saloon to this day.</span></i><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: black;"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; orphans: 2; text-decoration-color: initial; text-decoration-style: initial; text-decoration-thickness: initial; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;"><i><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: #111111;">The inn
suffered a major fire in 1937 and was rebuilt retaining some of the original
timbers. The inn remained in the Gallegos family until 1981. It was then sold
by the youngest daughter of Frank Gallegos, Jenny Gukan, when she was 92 years
old.</span></i><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: #111111;"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; orphans: 2; text-decoration-color: initial; text-decoration-style: initial; text-decoration-thickness: initial; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;"><i><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: #111111;">The inn is
also alleged to be haunted by the spirit of the late Tony Gukan, third husband
of Jenny Gukan." </span></i><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: #111111;"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; orphans: 2; text-decoration-color: initial; text-decoration-style: initial; text-decoration-thickness: initial; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;"><i><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: #111111;">This
historical marker was erected in 1989 by E Clampus Vitus Tuleburgh Chapter #69.</span></i><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: #111111;"><o:p></o:p></span></p><p style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; orphans: 2; text-decoration-color: initial; text-decoration-style: initial; text-decoration-thickness: initial; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif">So, is any of this
information on the very plaque that is attached to the building
correct? </span></p><p style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; orphans: 2; text-decoration-color: initial; text-decoration-style: initial; text-decoration-thickness: initial; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif">Sadly, No.</span></p>
<p style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; orphans: 2; text-decoration-color: initial; text-decoration-style: initial; text-decoration-thickness: initial; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: black;">For one, Frank
Gallego (not Gallegos) was born in 1863, a whole 10 years AFTER Joaquin Murrieta had been
allegedly beheaded by Harry Love. So, unless the ghost of Joaquin Murrieta was
coming around when Frank was in diapers, I truly doubt they hung out
together. </span><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: #111111;"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; orphans: 2; text-decoration-color: initial; text-decoration-style: initial; text-decoration-thickness: initial; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: black;">The establishment in Banta was also built in 1897, NOT 1879. Again, facts people, FACTS!!</span><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: #111111;"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; orphans: 2; text-decoration-color: initial; text-decoration-style: initial; text-decoration-thickness: initial; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: #111111;">There was also
NO FIRE that burned the building either, but we will get into that in just a
bit.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: #111111;">According to the book,</span><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt;"> <i>History of San Joaquin County,</i></span><i><span face="Arial, sans-serif">by George Tinkham,</span></i><span face="Arial, sans-serif"> the biography he wrote
about Frank Gallego reads:</span><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt;"><i>"Another
strong advocate of irrigation, whose success in ranching has given force to his
arguments as to one of the most vital of all needs in parts of California, is
Frank Gallego, the popular and wide-awake merchant of Banta. </i></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><i style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;">A
native son, he was born at Pleasanton, Alameda County, on September 24, 1862,
the youngest son of Anselmo Gallego, a native of the City of Mexico, who came
to California in the great Argonaut year of 1849. He settled in
Pleasanton Valley and became prominent as a stockman, trying his luck in the
mines of that period. His paternal ancestors were subjects of the
Crown of Spain, and he inherited much that anyone might envy. The
father married Juanita Carrasco, a native also of the City of Mexico, and a
charming and accomplished lady. These worthy parents made a splendid
record. Both are now deceased, having passed away at Banta in 1887.</i></p><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt;"><i>And
there, Frank Gallego grew to maturity, and became a rider on the range of his
father; and when his parents died, he continued near Banta until 1897, farming
to grain and stock. Mr. Gallego was married to Miss Bernal, a
daughter of Antonio Bernal, and a descendant of Don Bruno Bernal of San Jose de
Guadalupe, and owner of the Rancho Santa Teresa; and two children were born to
them: Juanita has become the wife of Paul de Ranga, and they
have one daughter, and reside at Stockton; and there also Antonio
resides. Mrs. Gallego died at San Jose in 1893, and Mr. Gallego’s second
marriage united him with Miss Refugia Ortega, a sister of Mrs. John
A. Fellom, Sr., of Gilroy. She was born at San Ysidro, received
a good education at St. Mary’s Convent, Gilroy, and was married in
1895. Now she is the mother of one son, Anselmo R., who is employed
by the Southern Pacific Railway at Tracy, and resides at Banta. Mr.
Gallego is a Republican. He is a member of the I. D. E. S. at
Stockton.<o:p></o:p></i></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt;"><i>In
1897 Mr. Gallego removed to Banta, and there he now conducts a soft-drink
parlor, and also owns and manages much good realty, including his residence. He
has 120 acres adjoining Banta on the south, and there he has installed a
complete irrigation plant, greatly improving the property, which he operates
himself as a grain and alfalfa farm.<o:p></o:p></i></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt;"><i>Mr. Gallego’s first
business in Banta in the early ‘90s was to operate a sheep-shearing and
sheep-dipping camp. He was a professional sheep shearer, working in
California, Nevada and Oregon. His record was shearing 143 sheep per
day, then dancing all night, and shearing as many as the next
day. He made this record at Firebaugh, Fresno County, when he worked
for Miller & Lux. His excellent wife kept a boarding house in
Banta for eighteen years and was in every way a true and loyal helpmate to her
husband."---</i> <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt;">So you see, Frank Gallego was NOT a friend of Joaquin Murrieta, and his tavern was not built in 1879, but instead 1897. That is a huge difference. Also, his family were respectable people within the community, and the reason I point that out is because another one of the "rumors" surrounding the Banta Inn, goes back to prostitution, involvement with the mob during prohibition and even just a bad element of people coming in and out. And that couldn't be further from the truth. There is no way, this decent and honorable, hard working family-run business would be associated with such things, and it is not only a disrespect but an insult to insinuate anything of the sort.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt;">The refreshment parlor was originally known as "Cool Corners" before later becoming known as the Banta Inn in 1937.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbnHogexPDq5F-j4Ik-1m0KamLPPaOgJF7qGFXNNVRwzEgiaDmTqJr3wi-Z2jl1TTSukRy1InoniRSytlOydEDwVjKOHPjY6rKazG25XPbllChUeZ69bNeOKtfFvLgFdCX8CC2npGSsU0/s714/Fire+in+Banta+1938.jpg" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="714" data-original-width="703" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbnHogexPDq5F-j4Ik-1m0KamLPPaOgJF7qGFXNNVRwzEgiaDmTqJr3wi-Z2jl1TTSukRy1InoniRSytlOydEDwVjKOHPjY6rKazG25XPbllChUeZ69bNeOKtfFvLgFdCX8CC2npGSsU0/s320/Fire+in+Banta+1938.jpg" width="315" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Tracy Press, 10/28/1938</td></tr></tbody></table><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt;">Going back to the lore surrounding the Inn, there are numerous accounts listed where people claim that there was a huge fire that burned the Banta Inn down and during this fire, a woman and child were trapped inside and died. This is also FALSE. </span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif">The Banta Inn never burned down. I scoured all of the archived newspapers searching for any shred of evidence of this story, and there was no fire in 1937 and the building did not burn down. </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif">There was a fire in the town of Banta on October 22, 1938, however it didn't come close to the Banta Inn, and only destroyed a warehouse, a storage house and the Canale & Sons Merchandise store. That's it. </span><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt;">Going back one year to 1937, why did the Gallego family decide to rebuild the Banta? Well, according to the newspaper article dated, April 16, 1937, Frank's son, Sammy, had taken over the proprietorship after Frank passed away in 1934, and Sammy felt the need to tear down the outdated, dilapidated tavern and construct a brand new building.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjo_yUbx-iPxqhlbxv79HYU1A3QKMKcVfy5p5kJScwRg9-0e4JC0KwyThjYtw-wU4hgCjfzJjdJv7uh63moyyspuG1o8n9fmRGii3pO-uhXwL8cFHeUawCZ6EsQyxgqZgRSS-N1mLF0vrk/s2048/New+Banta+Inn.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1330" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjo_yUbx-iPxqhlbxv79HYU1A3QKMKcVfy5p5kJScwRg9-0e4JC0KwyThjYtw-wU4hgCjfzJjdJv7uh63moyyspuG1o8n9fmRGii3pO-uhXwL8cFHeUawCZ6EsQyxgqZgRSS-N1mLF0vrk/w208-h320/New+Banta+Inn.jpg" width="208" /></a></div><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt;">According to an article in the Tracy Press, it states:</span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt;"><i>"On a corner lot on the
corner of his native town, a lot which had been in the family for many years
and which also for many years was occupied by one of the oldest buildings in
the community - that old building also belonging to the family of the boy who
wen to town -- the said "boy" is spending his money to express
his faith in my home town. The "boy" in the story is none other
than A.R. (Sammy) Gallego and the home town is none other than Banta.</i></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt;"><i>Quite a number of years
ago "Sammy" was the "blessed event" in the Gallego family,
being born not more than 100 feet from where he is now spending his hard-earned
cash. But to get on with the story. The first thing to be done was to remove
the old building before mentioned and to erect a brand new structure on the
site. The new place has been named “The Banta Inn” and now Banta can and does
boast of a fine place to eat, and incidentally, to drink, as there is a bar in
the front part of the café and everything.<o:p></o:p></i></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt;"><i>The mere building of the
Banta Inn was just a start in the mind of the man spending his money. He had
visions of other things and as a result he has already completed (or nearly
completed) seven cottages.<o:p></o:p></i></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt;"><i>Each of the cottages is
to have every convenience to be found in most any automobile camp, and some
conveniences not found in some camps.<o:p></o:p></i></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt;"><i>The interior of the
places are so arranged as to make every inch of floor space count and to be the
most convenient for the occupants. The bed rooms are furnished with Simmons
beds, springs and mattresses, the best that money could buy, and the kitchen is
supplied with gas plates, and metal cabinets, presenting an exceptionally neat
appearance and every convenience.<o:p></o:p></i></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt;"><i>Six of the cabins are
well under way to completion and a gang of men is now busy doing the finishing
while other men are at work getting the foundations and frame work of the one
under way.</i>" ---<o:p></o:p></span></p><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt;">The article also mentions how Sammy made his fortune, having started working for the Southern Pacific Railway company for over 13 years, and later venturing off to be a perishable freight agent for</span><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt;"> Denver & Rio Grande Western Railroad Company and the Missouri Pacific
Railroad Company, which his office having been located in the Wells Fargo building in San Francisco.</span></p><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt;">It also stated that he was such a busy guy juggling so much work, that although he was still the “big boss” at Banta Inn, he hired “Chuck” Holdaway as manager with Mrs.</span><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt;"> Holdaway acting as the cook at the restaurant.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt;">So you can see, that this place was a jumping spot, and was said to be a pretty classy one at that. There was no seedy element coming into this place and there was no mention of it having been that way before either.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt;">At some point it seems the proprietorship became too much for Sammy (</span><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #050505; font-size: 12pt;">Anselmo Raymond Gallego)</span><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt;">, so his older sister Juanita "Jennie" Gallego Gukan took over with her husband Anton Gukan. Jennie had married Anton or "Tony" after her first husband, Paul De Ranja<br /> passed away. She and Anton ran the place for many years.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt;">Anton Gukan was born on September 17. 1888. A native of Austria, Gukan married Jennie and settled in Banta. Sadly, just before Christmas on December 28, 1960, Anton passed away on the property. I found this information in a newspaper headline in the Tracy Press, that read </span><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt;"> </span><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #050505; font-size: 12pt;">“Banta Café Owner Dies After
Heart Attack At Home.”- Dec 30, 1960. </span><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #050505;">Jennie lived for another 26 years before she, too passed away. </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-AsZkIxI6GLY/YY2YNZLWA4I/AAAAAAAAKMA/myKFjBSqyDQJ0nQo0Vy8DrnpEGtV3reAACLcBGAsYHQ/s2028/Tony%2BGukan%2B%25282%2529.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1521" data-original-width="2028" height="300" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-AsZkIxI6GLY/YY2YNZLWA4I/AAAAAAAAKMA/myKFjBSqyDQJ0nQo0Vy8DrnpEGtV3reAACLcBGAsYHQ/w400-h300/Tony%2BGukan%2B%25282%2529.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #050505;"><br /></span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #050505;">Everyone is buried at the Tracy Cemetery, which I have an interesting story pertaining to this subject. You see, after our visit to the Banta Inn, we decided to head over to the Tracy Cemetery to see if we could find Mr. Gallego and Mr. Gukan. Sure enough, my fiance literally pulled up to the exact spot where Mr. Gukan is buried and parked his car on the driveway. When we got out of the car, there it was. These sorts of things happen to us all the time, but this day it was extra special. </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="color: #050505;"><span style="background-color: white;">We wandered the cemetery and we</span></span><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #050505;"> eventually found Mr. Gallego's grave, too. Such a simple marker, for such a hard working patriarch of a great family. </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-lb8WJ2WUUQw/YY2X6sLPsiI/AAAAAAAAKL4/DCGRjin9f6c-sfyy6jlhQBUsHhZgv8nOgCLcBGAsYHQ/s1756/Gallego%2B2%2B%25282%2529.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1094" data-original-width="1756" height="249" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-lb8WJ2WUUQw/YY2X6sLPsiI/AAAAAAAAKL4/DCGRjin9f6c-sfyy6jlhQBUsHhZgv8nOgCLcBGAsYHQ/w400-h249/Gallego%2B2%2B%25282%2529.jpg" width="400" /></a></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="color: #050505;"><span style="background-color: white;">In the past 40 years or so, the rumors sprang up about the Banta Inn being haunted. Tales of this false fire taking place, killing these imaginary people have sparked interest in the public, especially ghost hunters. Then with the death of Mr. Gukan himself, that threw fuel to the fire, and kept the haunted theories burning.</span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="color: #050505;"><span style="background-color: white;">Sadly though, the people who keep flocking to Banta to investigate either don't research the story thoroughly or they just believe other writers (who obviously didn't either). And with that, the tales of the Banta Inn continue to be told incorrectly.</span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="color: #050505;"><span style="background-color: white;">In the book, "Dinner and Spirits: A Guide to America's Most Haunted Restaurants, Taverns, and Inns" by Robert Wlodarski, he completely tells the story wrong. For one, Jennie didn't come to Banta in 1895, she was only born in 1890. She was just a little girl then. Also, he brings up that pesky fire rumor again, but like I showed you, there are no records whatsoever that the building ever burned down in a fire at all.</span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="color: #050505;"><span style="background-color: white;">If you <a href="https://www.google.com/search?q=haunted+banta+inn+tracy+ca&oq=haunted+banta+inn+&aqs=chrome.0.0i355i512j46i175i199i512j69i57j69i60.2760j0j7&sourceid=chrome&ie=UTF-8">google haunted Banta Inn</a>, you will find site after site claiming the same old story, but no one has ever really shared the facts behind the location's history and or disproven the myth and lore that has been spread for so many years.</span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="color: #050505;"><span style="background-color: white;">Well, I hope that you enjoyed this deep dive into the history of the Banta Inn. Happy History Hunting!</span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="color: #050505;"><span style="background-color: white;">(Copyright 2021)- J'aime Rubio, www.jaimerubiowriter.com </span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><br /></p>J'aime Rubio, Authorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00087085042404097820noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5490891062683504396.post-13842968479462748032021-08-30T10:51:00.003-07:002021-08-30T15:22:09.182-07:00Attack At the Maze Hotel - Modesto History <p><br /></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-v4gBtJSNYbU/YS0Pk28zpbI/AAAAAAAAKG0/42xtc8Ll-_EkLG4KxvdNFvlNfmhEuTLpgCLcBGAsYHQ/s707/Screenshot_20210828-181047%2B%25282%2529.png" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="576" data-original-width="707" height="376" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-v4gBtJSNYbU/YS0Pk28zpbI/AAAAAAAAKG0/42xtc8Ll-_EkLG4KxvdNFvlNfmhEuTLpgCLcBGAsYHQ/w461-h376/Screenshot_20210828-181047%2B%25282%2529.png" width="461" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Ross House, as seen in the book "One Hundred Years"-</td></tr></tbody></table><p>In my line of work, over the years I have had to debunk many television program's so-called facts, in order to set a story or two straight, when certain paranormal programs have literally shared false history or inaccurate history of a certain person, place or thing. In a recent episode of "The Dead Files" the program featured a certain costume shop in Modesto that is purported to be haunted. I have known the owner of this shop, Dana Walters for almost a decade, and I have been friends with Eva Foreman, an employee at that shop for just as long, so naturally, when I heard about the upcoming episode I wanted to see what it was all about and just what the "show" was going to say about the location.</p><p>Again, I am not a fan of paranormal shows in general, because I can see through the smoke and mirrors, to view it for what it is: blatant sensationalism. Time and time again, as I stated above, I have literally debunked or "fact checked" many of these types of shows over the years, only to reveal the actual stories that they either told completely wrong, or set stories straight when various stories had been fabricated and hadn't even taken place to begin with. So, when the episode brought local history into the mix, I was intrigued to see if the television show actually got it right. (Which in 99% of the cases, they don't).</p><p>After watching the episode, and after having taken extensive notes, I went deep diving into the archives in search for the facts behind one particular story that the tv show mentioned regarding Andrew Sorensen. Sorensen was said to be the man who allegedly attacked his wife with a butcher knife and then slit his throat in the Maze Hotel in Modesto. According to this television program, that event was a "possible" cause for what could be the dark energy haunting the shop, since the stars of the show claimed this particular location where this horrific story had occurred was literally within feet of the costume shop itself.</p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYEaYEVMOiWTO1EXmZiU4sa_fGAx72cN6YVhLAQSks-e2EtHBpVDQFbVfnRteAYfeITSVyJjmNk0GZqQLMWn_E9OEDh5VcL-its1i_3mME5mgnzsOYE7bSi6nK-JYvO_Dk4N5flrxKVE8/s2048/20210828_185243%257E2.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYEaYEVMOiWTO1EXmZiU4sa_fGAx72cN6YVhLAQSks-e2EtHBpVDQFbVfnRteAYfeITSVyJjmNk0GZqQLMWn_E9OEDh5VcL-its1i_3mME5mgnzsOYE7bSi6nK-JYvO_Dk4N5flrxKVE8/s320/20210828_185243%257E2.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>After lengthy research, I have found that although some of the story they told was accurate (to an extent), there was a huge piece of information that was completely inaccurate: <p></p><p><b>The Maze Hotel was not even remotely close to the costume shop!</b></p><p>The costume shop is on 7th Street, between L and M Streets, whereas the incidents that took place in 1910 involving the Sorensen's at the Maze Hotel, was located on the corner of 9th and I Street. <br /></p><p>Now that I have cleared up the misinformation that this event in history DID NOT actually take place anywhere near the costume shop, now I am going to give you the history of the Maze Hotel and share with you all the particulars surrounding the incident that took place on December 30, 1910.</p><p><u><b>History of the Maze Hotel</b></u></p><p><u><br /><b><br /></b></u></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNW4syyp9ieaYDgKWiLYLT1-mApcfLJT5hUxLiMIK-P-BG_ZbpqL6o9uRAGiRArPak_GoQ-y2OtyUY9QTIL7xXKeb9cblilYwXxc8EPDVSWomKSGOa2_kVWvffpAKx-_8XYNnChOQyauE/s2048/20210828_184320%257E2.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1303" data-original-width="2048" height="247" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNW4syyp9ieaYDgKWiLYLT1-mApcfLJT5hUxLiMIK-P-BG_ZbpqL6o9uRAGiRArPak_GoQ-y2OtyUY9QTIL7xXKeb9cblilYwXxc8EPDVSWomKSGOa2_kVWvffpAKx-_8XYNnChOQyauE/w388-h247/20210828_184320%257E2.jpg" width="388" /></a></div><p></p><p>Originally, the first structure on the corner of 9th and I Streets was The Ross House, which was <i>"for many years Modesto's leading hotel, and the scene of the town's big social soirees. It was built originally in Paradise City by Frank Ross, the man who gave it his name. In 1869, realizing that its days were numbered with the arrival of the railroad in Modesto, Ross sold out to James Cole, who formerly ran a stage station on the way to Sonora." -(A Hundred Years, Modesto 1870-1970)</i></p><p>As the book goes on, it mentions that Cole had the building moved to Modesto on November 20, 1870. It was moved in two sections, with the second part arriving the following week. </p><p><i>"The Maze Hotel, mentioned in the Modesto Irrigation Jubilee of 1904 as the headquarters of Governor and Mrs. Pardee and their party, was the name then given to the old Ross House at Ninth and I on the present site of the Claremont Hotel."</i> -- (The Claremont is no more, and it appears that later the site was Mead's Bakery & Restaurant, and even later, it is now a parking lot on the southeast corner, across from McDonald's.)</p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-RHfqgaJaYec/YS0TAYWuRMI/AAAAAAAAKG8/xWp_L6mU0lIE9NrkNot4sd0I3e0pmPOkwCLcBGAsYHQ/s2048/20210828_185159.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="240" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-RHfqgaJaYec/YS0TAYWuRMI/AAAAAAAAKG8/xWp_L6mU0lIE9NrkNot4sd0I3e0pmPOkwCLcBGAsYHQ/s320/20210828_185159.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Google Street View (looking East on I Street/9th Intersection)</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><p>The Maze Hotel was owned by none other than the Maze family, a prominent family in Modesto. When they purchased the property and changed the name from the Ross House is unknown to me. I couldn't find that in any of the records I searched. I did however find that the Sweet family managed the property around 1908, before Marie Sorensen decided to jump into the hospitality business and took up as the proprietor of the hotel sometime around 1909.</p><p>From the looks of everything I could find in records, newspaper clippings and census records, it appears that Marie Sorensen was very much the social butterfly, and (in my opinion) I believe she was more than likely the dominant one in the relationship. The newspapers noted she was "lively and vivacious", but what really gave it away was the 1910 census record. </p><p>When the census taker listed the couple, they listed Marie as the "Head" of the household. That was not common for that time period. In fact, unless a woman was alone, such as a widow with children she wasn't listed as the head. The husband, or whatever man in the family was always listed as the head of the household, at least back during that time period, anyway. And in this case, Mr. Sorensen took the #2 slot on the census list for their "household." </p><p>This listing alone gave me the impression that Mrs. Sorensen was a very independent person, and didn't think conventionally as the subservient sort of wife. All the newspaper clippings I could find relating to Andrew Sorensen spoke of him as the more quiet, reserved type. Although a later article threw in the idea that he was of the "jealous disposition." </p><p>Marie came from one of Modesto's more prominent families, being the daughter of W. S. Stone. While Andrew also came from another prominent family, his father being M.I. Sorensen, the late Deputy County Recorder. </p><p>Andrew Sorensen, was financially invested in the grocery business, having been working in that field for well over 10 years. By 1909, he was one of the owners of the A. Stiefvater & Co. Store, but sold his interest in it, as well as his interest in the Diamond Grocery Company, in order to help his wife manage the Maze Hotel.</p><p>It seems that perhaps they were having some sort of financial troubles, because by August of 1910, Marie Sorensen had decided to tell her landlady, Mrs. Maze that she was no longer going to keep the Maze Hotel open for customers, and instead was planning on running the Plato Hotel which was literally behind the Maze on the other side of the city block on 10th Street. Apparently, Mrs. Maze, the landlady had decided to raise the rent and Mrs. Sorensen decided that she did not want to continue managing the hotel. Still, by December, the Sorensen's were still there, going back and forth between the Maze Hotel and the Plato Hotel, literally having had an "annex" put in between the two properties that connected back to back. </p><p>Interestingly, the Plato Hotel (823 10th Street) was once just an Opera House that was on the 2nd floor of the Plato's Menswear building on 10th Street (just south of I Street). In 1910, Marie Sorensen somehow managed to get proprietorship of this spot when the old hall was converted to a lodging house which consisted of 13 rooms.</p><p>It was on December 30, 1910, when the unthinkable occurred. </p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-TUuLKaVASk8/YS0OwjrhSBI/AAAAAAAAKGs/JyeND5iwokcgcsTma3slr_IRGqN2xkcawCLcBGAsYHQ/s1948/clip_84336443.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="653" data-original-width="1948" height="173" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-TUuLKaVASk8/YS0OwjrhSBI/AAAAAAAAKGs/JyeND5iwokcgcsTma3slr_IRGqN2xkcawCLcBGAsYHQ/w517-h173/clip_84336443.jpg" width="517" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><p></p><p>According to the Modesto Bee, dated 12/30/1910 it stated:</p><p class="MsoNormal"><b><i>“While Temporarily Insane Sorensen Makes Murderous Attack
Upon His Wife and Then Cuts His Own Throat; Wife in a Critical Condition<o:p></o:p></i></b></p><p class="MsoNormal"><i>Modesto was shocked out of all reason shortly after two o’clock
this afternoon by one of the most ghastly tragedies which ever happened in this
state, when Andrew Sorensen, one of the best known and most respected business
men of this city, after a fiendish attack upon his wife, in which she was
seriously wounded, slashed his own throat from ear to ear with a butcher knife,
dying a few moments later.........<o:p></o:p></i></p><p class="MsoNormal"><b><i>Undoubtedly Deranged</i></b></p><p class="MsoNormal"><i>Sorensen, who was undoubtedly temporarily deranged, has been
acting rather strangely for the past few days, but had shown no signs of
violence before, so far as has been learned. Today, however, his mind appears
to have been upset, through some little disagreement with his wife; but the attack
this afternoon came without the slightest warning.<o:p></o:p></i></p><p class="MsoNormal"><i>The assault occurred at the head of the stairs of the Maze Hotel.
Mrs. Sorensen was met at the head of the stairs by her husband, who struck her several
times, hitting her on the head and arms, using the large carving knife which he
had taken from the kitchen. The act was witnessed by carpenters who were
working nearby, and whose cries served to stay the assault. The screams of Mrs.
Sorensen attracted others about the house, who appeared upon the scene
immediately, and directed their attention to her.....<o:p></o:p></i></p><p class="MsoNormal"><i>When Deputy Sheriff’s Dallas and Swatzel came to
the door of his room they found it locked. The door was quickly opened by the
men, and they entered the room to find Sorensen lying on the end of the bed in
a pool of blood and still alive. Dr. F.R. DeLappe arrived at this moment, and
an effort was made to get Sorensen to talk, but he was unable to do so, as his
windpipe had been completely severed, the larynx being in plain sight. He died
as he was lifted from the bed by Deputy Sheriff Swatzel and others.</i></p><p class="MsoNormal"><b><o:p><i> </i></o:p><i>Head Almost Severed</i></b></p><p>
</p><p class="MsoNormal"><i>From the position of the body on the bed, and the marks of
his bloodstained hands on the foot and head of the bed, it was evident that
Sorensen had made three slashes with the large carving knife, the blade of
which was over 12 inches long. While he was still alive when the officers
arrived on the scene, and probably conscious, he was unable to make any sound,
and sank very rapidly."---<o:p></o:p></i></p><p>According to an even more detailed account by the Modesto Morning Herald, dated January 5, 1911, more pieces to the puzzle came to light. According to Edith Simon, of Stockton (who happened to be Andrew Sorensen's cousin), Miss Simon stated that Andrew had just come back from the post office when he began choking his wife. Miss Simon struggled with Andrew to let her go, and he did, and walked away. Mrs. Sorenson, being terrified of what just happened, locked the door to the room she was in and left out another exit to the hallway towards the room of Mrs. Leiter. At this point Andrew Sorensen had went to the kitchen to get the 12 inch butcher knife. As Mrs. Sorensen was standing at the head of the stairs that led from the street, her husband grabbed her at the waist and started slashing at her head.</p><p>Her screams immediately got the attention of Mr. Tucker and Mr. Dawes who were working on repairs in the hotel. Dawes grabbed hold of Andrew Sorensen and attempted to restrain him, while the latter attempted to raise the knife at him. Tucker yelled, and Andrew Sorensen was able to break away and run out the back towards the Plato Hotel "Annex" which connected through the back yard of the hotel. </p><p>This was when Mr. Gullickson, a 33 year old Carpenter from Norway, who was working in the yard in the back of the hotel heard the commotion and rushed up the stairs of the hotel. According to the newspaper Mr. Sorensen retreated to the upstairs of the Plato, more than likely where the couple were actually staying, as the other newspaper accounts claim it was "his room."</p><p>This is where the story gets very strange. The inquest and all newspaper accounts claim that when Sorensen was found, in a locked room at the Plato Hotel, that he had slit his throat from ear to ear, and that the cut was so deep, he had nearly decapitated himself. </p><p>According to Sheriff Deputy Swatzel, he knocked on Sorensen's door, and found that it was locked. He stated that he climbed up onto the transom (it is a small window that is above the door, usually used to allow air and light into the room) he could see that Sorensen was <i>"kneeling at the side of the bed with blood gushing from his throat.....I tried again to gain entrance through the door, but failing in that, I forced an 'inside" window and entered the room. He was beyond all hope, however, as an examination disclosed that his head was almost completely severed from his body. Death must have been instantaneous, although I felt of Sorensen's pulse and detected a feeble action, which Dr. De Lappe, who arrived soon after I did, said was not unusual in a death of this nature."</i></p><p>As the newspapers started to report the story, and the inquest came out, more and more speculation arose. Was Andrew a jealous man who went suddenly insane? Or did he have an inherited condition that left him mentally deranged?</p><p><i>"It has been known to his family and friends for some time that Mr. Sorensen was mentally deranged, but as the spells were merely temporary, it was not believed that he would do any harm and his wife refused to have committed to an institution as was advised by some of her friends. To this state of mind can be attributed the tragedy on Friday. On two previous occasions, Mr. Sorensen attacked his wife, choking and otherwise maltreating her, but as soon as the spell passed he was full of remorse. He is said to have stated recently that should he harm his wife during one of these spells he would take his own life. Their four years of married life had been most congenial and Mr. Sorensen was greatly devoted to his wife.</i></p><p><i>A few weeks ago Mr. Sorensen's mother, Mrs. Anna Sorensen, took her son to the well known specialist Dr. Moffat of San Francisco. The latter told the mother that Andrew was suffering from paralysis of the brain and that it was doubtful if he would live more than two months. The physician also stated, it is said, that the nature of the disease would render him incapable of harming anyone. His father, who died some years ago, was a victim of the same malady."</i></p><p>Even with all of this information, the idea that Andrew Sorensen had the physical ability to slice his throat so deeply that it was nearly severed from his body made me want to dig deeper.</p><p>The medical report "Homicidal Cut Throat: The Forensic Perspective," details the differences between suicidal, accidental and homicidal cut throat deaths. It explains how in homicidal cases, when the assailant is behind the victim and restraining the head, that is how the deep penetrating gash would be possible. In a suicide, the person would not have the strength to penetrate as deeply, and a lot of the time they will have a spasm where they die with the knife in their hands. This did not happen with Andrew.</p><p><br /></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEica37xNPBPuMShkz6-vnYPG1-M8036dMC1zhzRx7kF_Zo00FjkK1BiNXtdFJnKjSplG9kuFBdk0BjNAZ1BB1gMxwKYt46sNuN9JGIGnxXJMYJ5cMGikyc9eBFFDnacOGH1Z6-nppXJg6I/s2048/Headline.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1205" data-original-width="2048" height="211" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEica37xNPBPuMShkz6-vnYPG1-M8036dMC1zhzRx7kF_Zo00FjkK1BiNXtdFJnKjSplG9kuFBdk0BjNAZ1BB1gMxwKYt46sNuN9JGIGnxXJMYJ5cMGikyc9eBFFDnacOGH1Z6-nppXJg6I/w399-h211/Headline.jpg" width="399" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div>Although the newspapers claimed Sorensen had made 3 deep gashes and slit his own throat from ear to ear nearly severing his head from his body, this does not equate to the type of wound that would be self-inflicted. Like the medical journal reported, in order to have such a deep wound that literally nearly severs a head from its body, you would need sheer force of two hands, one holding the neck still while the other uses brute force to slash. A person, even in a fit of insanity, would have died long before he was able to inflict himself with such a deep wound (again, remember, this isn't a standard run of the mill throat cutting....all the reports say his head was nearly severed off!). <p></p><p>This story just didn't sit well with me, and that is why I had to go back.....back to the story.</p><p>Now, normally I am not one for speculating, as I am always the one seeking facts. But in this story, we cannot bring Andrew back to ask him what happened. However, the physical evidence that was made available to the public was there to review all along. </p><p>****It is the author's personal "educated guess" that one of the men that was working at the hotel that day, in a selfless act of defending Mrs. Sorensen after what had just happened to her, this person went back to where Andrew Sorensen was at the Plato Hotel (upstairs) and fought with him, held him down on the bed from behind and slit this throat. The person could have walked away, locking the door behind him without any blood on him, and even so, he could have easily stated it was Mrs. Sorensen's blood from coming to her rescue. By the time the Deputy Sheriff arrived, he found Andrew bleeding to death. With a gashed throat he would have never been able to tell him what happened, and so he died there on the bed.****</p><p>I believe that any question of what happened to Andrew, if they had initially suspected someone had attacked him in his room, was swiftly dismissed given the circumstances of what happened to Mrs. Sorensen, and since the perpetrator of the initial incident was now dead the coroner could rule it a suicide and be done with the matter. </p><p>After the attack, Mrs. Sorensen was quickly sent to Evans Hospital where she was treated for cuts to her head and neck. She also had a severe wound to her wrist. Both the bone and tendons had been cut so badly, she nearly lost her hand, a severed finger, and she had two "split" fingers. She was listed in critical condition, but within a day the newspapers stated that she would survive. </p><p>Saturday morning the inquest was held and it was determined that Andrew Sorensen's death was <i>"caused by a knife wound inflicted while in a state of insanity." </i>It was revealed that a note was found in Sorensen's room which was addressed to his mother. It consisted of two lines, which the coroner claimed was <i>"illegible." </i></p><p>Mrs. Sorensen was notified of her husband's death while she was convalescing at Evan's Hospital. The newspaper stated, <i>"Although greatly shocked and grieved, she bore up bravely and showed a fortitude that was remarkable in view of her condition." </i></p><p>Mr. Sorensen's body was held at Bowker & Wood, where a private service was held and officiated by Reverend J.J. White. The pall bearers were Native Sons and the Knights of the Pythias, where he was a member of both lodges. He was taken to the Odd Fellows Section of the Modesto Pioneer Cemetery where he was buried and forgotten.</p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-nV4_LMUStBY/YS0U3YG3ToI/AAAAAAAAKHg/1vbHy1k0blksDsopXiL14Lk-kLCJ3AYlQCLcBGAsYHQ/s890/Modesto%2BMorning%2BHera.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="890" data-original-width="677" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-nV4_LMUStBY/YS0U3YG3ToI/AAAAAAAAKHg/1vbHy1k0blksDsopXiL14Lk-kLCJ3AYlQCLcBGAsYHQ/s320/Modesto%2BMorning%2BHera.jpg" width="243" /></a></div>Moving forward with her life, Mrs. Sorensen continued in her work as the proprietor of the Plato Hotel (despite the fact her husband died there, which is sort of creepy if you ask me!) She went on to travel with friends to Honolulu in 1913, attended weddings and events with friends over the years, and later went on to become a nurse. She ended up moving to Napa, where she worked as a head nurse for four years at the Napa State Hospital, where she met Thomas Carroll Foley, who worked as an Attendant at the hospital. The two were married in 1921. <br /><br /><p></p><p>Sadly, Marie only lived four more years, dying on December 29, 1925. Ironically, her obituary was published on December 30, 1925, exactly 15 years to the day that her first husband had attempted to end her life. Marie was buried at Acacia Memorial Park which is in the same vicinity of where Andrew Sorensen is buried in the Odd Fellows Section. You see, there are several cemeteries that are combined on Scenic Drive in Modesto, so it is like one huge cemetery in all. </p><p><b>Going back to the story</b></p><p>Sadly, I believe that something terrible was afflicting Andrew that caused him to attack his wife that day. Do I believe it was an evil entity that was influencing Andrew? Absolutely not! I believe it was something medical. Especially since it was within his own family history to have been afflicted with mental illness. I also do not believe that he is haunting the costume shop, as the television program insinuated.</p><p>Based solely on his injuries alone, I do not for one second believe that Andrew Sorensen<br /> killed himself. Despite the fact that Andrew went off the rails and attacked his wife, which was ghastly to say the least, I do believe that someone killed Andrew Sorensen and it was covered up as a suicide.</p><p>What he did to his wife was wrong, absolutely. Still, the idea that all these years he has been labeled as having committing suicide feels wrong to me because the evidence says otherwise. I guess, though, we will never know who else was involved in this heinous incident in 1910. </p><p>Just as I believe in sharing the stories of all the forgotten, I also believe in making sure each story is told accurately, and if I find something that doesn't fit, I will question it and ponder over it until I find a reasonable conclusion. I have reached mine.</p><p><br /></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0xW16kqKKOhf-Z79XS_Nuhn0QHreNWG7EuxGwi-U26xpMJTNAQMxhiWC-Y9HRs9MidpZRzG8F8r2ox0SKAeAqSdS98TP5iHB3CUaL69CoVu8fFCiqY4xfRKfS1OvOMDP_SUr3kfduBig/s2048/20210828_145415.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="276" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0xW16kqKKOhf-Z79XS_Nuhn0QHreNWG7EuxGwi-U26xpMJTNAQMxhiWC-Y9HRs9MidpZRzG8F8r2ox0SKAeAqSdS98TP5iHB3CUaL69CoVu8fFCiqY4xfRKfS1OvOMDP_SUr3kfduBig/w400-h276/20210828_145415.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The grave of Andrew Sorensen</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><p>Happy History Hunting!</p><p>(Copyright 2021- J'aime Rubio, <a href="http://www.jaimerubiowriter.com">www.jaimerubiowriter.com</a>) </p><p>Sources:</p><p>Modesto Bee, 8/1/1908</p><p>Modesto Bee, 12/30/1910</p><p>San Francisco Call, 12/31/1910</p><p>Stockton Independent, 12/31/1910</p><p>Modesto Morning Herald, 1/5/1911</p><p>Modesto Morning Herald, 8/3/1921.</p><p>Modesto Bee, 8/8/1911</p><p>Modesto Bee, 6/9/1920</p><p>A big "Thank You" to Roland Boulware for allowing me the use of your book for photos and information: </p><p>"One Hundred Years: Modesto, 1870-1970" by Jeanette Gould Maino, 1970.</p><p>Polk's Directory Co's Modesto, Volume 6 - 1915</p><p>"Modesto"- by Carl P. Baggese, Page 33</p><p>Census records, 1900,1910,1920.</p><p>Death records, 1910,1925.</p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p>J'aime Rubio, Authorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00087085042404097820noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5490891062683504396.post-49033300566174436312021-05-23T10:11:00.008-07:002021-05-23T10:25:09.501-07:00Bodie Cemetery - A Place Frozen In Time<p> </p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYpGG5T35H04RK0ZwSbpKGEvWdCDhNuYZQMEkPvH4zfuRmDETHwbxmMTQHLpKRscpou98yrTXi20Pzm1XxDMxoOJRaYOaH_lUlKM-my-9HdwQ4yXkMMA2uEpavgxvNPvr9TCxlHC7M5dg/s2048/20210509_100735+%25281%2529.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="312" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYpGG5T35H04RK0ZwSbpKGEvWdCDhNuYZQMEkPvH4zfuRmDETHwbxmMTQHLpKRscpou98yrTXi20Pzm1XxDMxoOJRaYOaH_lUlKM-my-9HdwQ4yXkMMA2uEpavgxvNPvr9TCxlHC7M5dg/w416-h312/20210509_100735+%25281%2529.jpg" width="416" /></a></div><br /><p>Two weekends ago, my love and I traveled east over the Sierras on a little road trip. We stopped first in Bridgeport (the same place where the<a href="https://dreamingcasuallypoetry.blogspot.com/2017/01/a-dead-mans-hand-murder-of-poker-tom.html"> Murder of Poker Tom </a>occurred), and then we traveled onward to Bodie State Historic Park. Bodie is a ghost town that has been preserved forever frozen in time. The stores shelves are still filled with items that were there the last time anyone ever lived there. </p><p></p><p>Bodie itself was founded by Waterman S. Bodey, when he discovered gold nearby in 1875. By 1877, the Standard Mining Company had begun mining and before anyone could say "pay dirt" the town of Bodie had arrived. By 1915, the town had dwindled in population, and that is when it was first referred to has a "ghost town." There were still people living here well into the 1930's and 40's but very few. The last resident of Bodie, the caretaker Cecil Birks died in 1961.</p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEja7DQ3T_K7erciCUR0QjjeYt7bYXRuGrDs8cWGj_6dBkIw-_Owh0N8FjxwLXWDktE-01XZ_MHBqFk9UILv6m8iYUj04W45zSLbYHoHWLrvYXeLWC9H098-yWjdNvRH5UvQQqsFEnUizHE/s1631/20210509_122302+%25282%2529.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1386" data-original-width="1631" height="219" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEja7DQ3T_K7erciCUR0QjjeYt7bYXRuGrDs8cWGj_6dBkIw-_Owh0N8FjxwLXWDktE-01XZ_MHBqFk9UILv6m8iYUj04W45zSLbYHoHWLrvYXeLWC9H098-yWjdNvRH5UvQQqsFEnUizHE/w258-h219/20210509_122302+%25282%2529.jpg" width="258" /></a></div>The buildings were left in a state of what they call "arrested decay." The town itself, well, what is left of it, after time, the elements and even some fires got to it, is what you see today.<p></p><p>There are three cemeteries in Bodie but they are all adjacent to one another. Many of the graves are unmarked so it is hard to tell exactly how many people are buried there. Some of those who died by horrible accidents are buried here. I am going to share with you just a couple of those stories today. </p><p><b><u>Charles Benson and George Watson</u></b></p><p>I could find no trace of their graves while there. So I have to assume theirs is either unmarked or one of the many wooden markers with no name on it. Charles Benson, George Watson and another man named Snibley, were killed in a fatal gun powder explosion in the tunnel of the Great Sierra Mining Company, on October 2, 1883. Snibley's family had his remains shipped to San Mateo for burial, while Benson and Watson were buried in the cemetery here. <br /></p><p><u><b> Anthony Thumann</b></u></p><p>One grave that actually was there, and I missed it (which drives me crazy!) was the small obelisk of <a href="https://www.findagrave.com/memorial/5852491/anthony-thumann">Anthony Thumann</a> (the newspapers called him Thurman). His death was also mine related, when he fell down the pump shaft of the Standard Mine on November 14, 1883.</p><p><b><u>David McKinney</u></b></p><p>McKinney was crushed to death by a falling casting that was being moved from the freight wagon. It crushed his upper body and head. Sadly, the newspapers reported that it took seven minutes for him to pass. Again, like Watson and Benson, I could find no trace of McKinney's grave. </p><p>There were many other accidents, I am sure, but those were just a few of those I found that are recorded to be buried within the cemeteries boundaries. Last but not least it the little girl who has become infamously known as the Angel of Bodie, Evelyn Myers.</p><p></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVckvVoQsYaP6R5ltcvwNrVuc5r8ckQeCXwS1D4ZtFY2nqJ8GmPZgWwIWqibZ32ljfVfjcW750pM9_L25-zZ2vlLnexGu5lTnqBpPDC-o516U7eSz5D-WI-aYhR9anZd0xdojro3-0MqU/s2571/evelyn+myers.jpg" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2571" data-original-width="1223" height="349" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVckvVoQsYaP6R5ltcvwNrVuc5r8ckQeCXwS1D4ZtFY2nqJ8GmPZgWwIWqibZ32ljfVfjcW750pM9_L25-zZ2vlLnexGu5lTnqBpPDC-o516U7eSz5D-WI-aYhR9anZd0xdojro3-0MqU/w233-h349/evelyn+myers.jpg" width="233" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">(Photo: Roland Boulware)</td></tr></tbody></table><p></p><p><b><u>Evelyn Myers</u></b></p><p>The Angel of Bodie, as the April 16, 1897 edition of the Daily Appeal (Carson City) called her, was killed accidentally on April 5, 1897, when she leaned over the railing of the porch of her home, when a hired worker, an Indian man, was using a pickaxe to cut a drainage ditch around the house to make way for the melting ice. During the hired man's back swing, his axe hit the crown of little Evelyn's head. She lived for two hours, until the bleeding stopped and she perished. </p><p>People have flocked to Evelyn's grave for many years, and the fact that she has such a beautiful marker probably draws even more attention to her story. In fact, Evelyn's headstone is probably one of the prettiest, if not the prettiest in all of Bodie. Don't forget to stop by and pay your respects to those forgotten in time at the cemetery, if you ever make the trek to Bodie. </p><p>(Copyright 2021 - J'aime Rubio. <a href="http://www.jaimerubiowriter.com">www.jaimerubiowriter.com</a>) </p><p>Photos by: J'aime Rubio & Roland Boulware</p>J'aime Rubio, Authorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00087085042404097820noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5490891062683504396.post-17774519613431651492021-01-10T17:12:00.000-08:002021-01-10T17:12:23.900-08:00Exposing A Very Poorly Researched "Ghost Story": The Lady in Burgundy<p><br /></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-uqjOidY0aPs/X_uj2thvYiI/AAAAAAAAJ2U/vXnlGEH21M8cbknQHO4NYzToxBUulcQEwCLcBGAsYHQ/s2048/coloma%2Bcemetery%2B%25283%2529.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="375" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-uqjOidY0aPs/X_uj2thvYiI/AAAAAAAAJ2U/vXnlGEH21M8cbknQHO4NYzToxBUulcQEwCLcBGAsYHQ/w500-h375/coloma%2Bcemetery%2B%25283%2529.jpeg" width="500" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Credit: Some Rise, Some Set (Findagrave)</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><p><br /></p><p>First and foremost, I originally learned about a particular website known as backpackerverse.com several years ago, when I found out that one of my photos from my own blog not only had been used by them (without permission), but that the writer of the website decided to fabricate a slanderous backstory on the subject: Dr. Aden Hart.</p><p>It took threatening to sue the owner of the website before he removed my photo of the Hart House from his site. And even after I made him remove it, he had the audacity to email me back and ask if he could have permission to post it again. Unbelievable!</p><p>Over the years, I have seen people on Facebook sharing links from this completely fictitious website. I have tried to warn people that the stories on that site are all fabricated to drive up traffic, but it still seems to fall on deaf ears. Sadly, most people would rather believe the lie, than do research to find the truth.</p><p>Anyhow, while researching the history of the City Cemetery in Placerville, I stumbled upon yet another backpackerverse article that really takes the cake this time! Not only is the entire story false, but the writer even fails to cite the correct cemetery! </p><p>So, here I am debunking the story of the "Lady in Burgundy" as posted in the article <a href="https://backpackerverse.com/placerville-pioneer-cemetery/">"A Myriad of Horrors Haunt This Old California Cemetery." </a></p><p>As you can see, I provided a link to the article. I did so, so that you can go over and read the ridiculous claims for yourself, after reading this blog. So you can see, once and for all, how lazily researched and completely fabricated this "ghost story" is. <br /></p><p>For one, the writer says "Up in the hills of Placerville, lies the Pioneer Cemetery." </p><p>Um, WRONG!!! --- The cemetery in Placerville is named the City Cemetery, and the fact of the matter is, this story doesn't take place in the City Cemetery. In fact, it doesn't take place in Placerville at all.</p><p>As you read on, it is apparent that they are talking about the Pioneer Cemetery in Coloma, California. But, again, the writer couldn't get their "facts" straight. </p><p>As you scroll down, you see a photo of a child (deguerreotype). This was borrowed from another site, and is NOT anyone mentioned in the article. Just an old unidentified photo. </p><p>Now they start talking about this "Lady in Burgundy" and how she haunts the cemetery.</p><p>Just so you know, there are no documented accounts of a Lady in Burgundy being seen at that cemetery. Only in recent times have articles been posted (clearly using verbage from the article I am citing), and thus this "ghost story" has picked up steam, proving that just like the game of "telephone" once you tell a story and keep telling it, it can take on a life of its own.</p><p>Going back, the article continues on now, speaking about the Scheiffer family. Again, they are saying that they were from Placerville. </p><p>WRONG AGAIN!! --</p><p>The Scheiffer's were from Coloma, California. They mention the father, Charles being buried there (he died in 1864) and his daughters Catherine and May. They point out that May died tragically young. </p><p>Catherine died at the age of 54, in San Francisco in 1916, and May died in 1890, at the age of 28. Yes, 28 years old isn't what you would consider a long life lived, but she wasn't a child either. You have to remember, I have walked cemeteries all over California and the majority of the time you find that people died as young adults. Most children didn't even make it due to childhood diseases. This was how it was back then. Tragic, yes. But as common as you can imagine.</p><p>Did May die a tragic death? Well, in my opinion all death is tragic. I mean, they died. I haven't been able to uncover any smoking gun evidence of some very mysterious or terrible ending, but whether she died from sickness (most likely), an accident or at the hands of another person, again, all death is tragic.</p><p>But what really got to me was what the story started to insinuate.</p><p>In their Sub-Heading "Dark Secrets of the Gold Rush" they start to question who Eliza Taylor was. </p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQ-MzxAGXT8fO-Po08ktYHHWYYUD2uJwA3b8a_GxXWAKlxwLmITQoPXtuy4tEEyhV8ldik6unKyGq-b7x0cKHEpCJMaWSrdp_JzQfQltS2VCP_2-l3rh6zbTDbQCr7h4u7iytUkhKseUM/s2048/Eliza+Taylor.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="288" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQ-MzxAGXT8fO-Po08ktYHHWYYUD2uJwA3b8a_GxXWAKlxwLmITQoPXtuy4tEEyhV8ldik6unKyGq-b7x0cKHEpCJMaWSrdp_JzQfQltS2VCP_2-l3rh6zbTDbQCr7h4u7iytUkhKseUM/w384-h288/Eliza+Taylor.jpeg" width="384" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Credit: Some Rise, Some Set (Findagrave)</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><p>They even go so far as to say "Historians and townsfolk are undecided as to whether Eliza was a close friend, an illegitimate daughter, or perhaps even a lover." </p><p>I am not sure what "historians" they spoke to, but I truly doubt they contacted anyone about this story. It took me literally SECONDS to do a search online to determine who Eliza was. She was Charles' wife, and mother to both Catherine and May. No big mystery here folks! And if you were wondering why her name was Taylor, that's because after her husband died, she remarried to William Taylor, thus the new last name. Again, nothing secret about that. </p><p>But this is clearly the typical sensationalism that backpackerverse is known for.</p><p>Next, they claim Eliza is the one haunting the cemetery, and they make obscure statements about a family seeing her ghost, yet they fail to quote the witnesses statement, or even give any more details. As usual, it's always very vague. </p><p>So, in ending....Going back to the "haunted cemetery" story, Eliza Taylor died at the age of 62, in San Francisco, and her body was returned back to Coloma to be buried with her children. Nothing scary or mysterious about that either. No one out there can rightfully claim that it is her ghost haunting the cemetery, therefore to take a story and attach it to Eliza is not only wrong but very disrespectful.</p><p>If you are a fan of this website, my advise to you is that you need to research the fact before believing ANYTHING that website claims. It is well known that they are notorious for posting ill-researched stories, but also slanderous ones, at that. </p><p>If you don't believe me, I can give you another example. Take a look at the <a href="https://backpackerverse.com/martinez-house-original-sacramento-murder-house/">Martinez House </a>blog.....that's the one where they slandered Dr. Aden Hart, whom I mentioned briefly in this article. </p><p>For the record, I know the owners of that house in Sacramento. No one died in the home, and no one was murdered there, no one was evil or wicked, and most importantly, the house is not haunted.</p><p>If you would like to read the REAL STORY about Dr. Aden Hart, please click on the link below:</p><p><a href="https://jaimerubiowriter.blogspot.com/2018/03/sacramento-mystery-hart-mansion-secrets.html">HART MANSION SECRETS</a> ( originally published 6/5/2011 on Dreaming Casually)</p><p>and you can read more about it here: <a href="https://dreamingcasuallypoetry.blogspot.com/2015/10/the-history-of-aden-c-hart-hart-mansion.html">THE HISTORY OF ADEN C. HART</a> (published 10/4/2015)</p><p>When you write about the dead, you are supposed to do so with respect and integrity that what you are sharing is backed up by documented facts. Otherwise, you are just spinning us a yarn, and many times doing a disservice to the one you are supposedly writing about. Afterall, the historian owes the dead nothing but the truth.</p><p>(Copyright 2021 - J'aime Rubio <a href="http://www.jaimerubiowriter.com">www.jaimerubiowriter.com</a>)</p><p>PHOTO CREDIT: <a href="https://www.findagrave.com/user/profile/49465871">Some Rise, Some Set (Findagrave: 49465871)</a></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p>J'aime Rubio, Authorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00087085042404097820noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5490891062683504396.post-826650681097037302021-01-01T21:11:00.003-08:002021-01-01T21:11:29.748-08:00Tragedy on the River - Six Deaths in One DayHave you ever lost a loved one? Most people today can say that they have. Some more than others. But, in reality, how many of us can say that we lost nearly our entire family on the very same day? Sometimes in horrible accidents an entire family may perish, and over the years I have came across some headstones that elude to that. But while visiting the Holy Sepulcher Cemetery in Hayward, California, I was introduced to one of the saddest, most tragic stories that I am about to share now with you.<div><br /></div><div>I cannot take the credit for finding these graves. No, that has to go to my main squeeze. I was walking around with him at the cemetery when he pointed out the graves to me and said, "look at their death dates. Notice anything strange?" They were all the same date: July 9, 1955.</div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-dr5etaHOWxc/X-_7rNRF3oI/AAAAAAAAJ1M/rOiD4ZQEbQohgmfIyUfjktlugMSPBCgWwCPcBGAYYCw/s2048/20210101_124448.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="322" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-dr5etaHOWxc/X-_7rNRF3oI/AAAAAAAAJ1M/rOiD4ZQEbQohgmfIyUfjktlugMSPBCgWwCPcBGAYYCw/w430-h322/20210101_124448.jpg" width="430" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjB_TA_jCTMMwusbyuF5X9bohfEj3ZNBVu_kvQwDgTH9Y2Yjofc78jfheC1INNIsO2wPLHORFj9AY38s9CLjlbB6KOEEujv-_IfN2yNnAkJ2If1G5r9Pq4vp3TH5kw7xk8FB0lTep9-qNY/s2048/20210101_124455+%25281%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="319" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjB_TA_jCTMMwusbyuF5X9bohfEj3ZNBVu_kvQwDgTH9Y2Yjofc78jfheC1INNIsO2wPLHORFj9AY38s9CLjlbB6KOEEujv-_IfN2yNnAkJ2If1G5r9Pq4vp3TH5kw7xk8FB0lTep9-qNY/w425-h319/20210101_124455+%25281%2529.jpg" width="425" /></a></div><br /><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>And then, all of a sudden I felt a spark inside. A feeling I had thought that I had almost lost completely. You see, for the past year or so, I hadn't been researching and writing like I used to, and frankly, it was a bit discouraging. I was beginning to think that I had lost that inspiration, that magic I once felt to uncover a mystery and to share the stories of those forgotten ones I have been sharing for the past 15 or so years. But within that very moment, that feeling came raging back to me, and I just had to know what happened to these beautiful people. I had to find their story, so I could share it with the world.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div></div><div>So, when I got home I started digging. Once I uncovered the tragic story, I found myself in tears, and I found myself so very heartbroken for the family who survived to feel the loss of so many loved ones, gone all in one tragic day.</div><div><br /></div><div><b>"River Takes Six Lives"</b></div><div><br /></div><div>That was the headline in the newspapers dated July 11, 1955. </div><div><br /></div><div>So what happened? How did six people die in the river? It seemed so hard to comprehend. </div><div><br /></div><div>According to the Madera Tribune, the Villa, Ramirez and Killingsworth families had decided to have a picnic at the river just about 12 miles west of Modesto, at the Maze Bridge along Maze Blvd and the San Joaquin River. </div><div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUVJ0i97R6VZNsF1XLmPqijgfiKtbk59OVYNc76uetD0TlPI7K7ghyphenhyphen1QL8sC6VUnjr5G9QHoicXktP7g3P0MUezM_wb7rMKwLBYfhMRd4vf1RfjPXQku4cYk-TclFVGafOjh8U6Xzn_xo/s2048/20210101_190814.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="343" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUVJ0i97R6VZNsF1XLmPqijgfiKtbk59OVYNc76uetD0TlPI7K7ghyphenhyphen1QL8sC6VUnjr5G9QHoicXktP7g3P0MUezM_wb7rMKwLBYfhMRd4vf1RfjPXQku4cYk-TclFVGafOjh8U6Xzn_xo/w457-h343/20210101_190814.jpg" width="457" /></a></div></div><div><br /></div><div>Clemente Villa, father of daughters Santo (18), Henrietta (14) and Gloria (7) along with his other daughters Vickie, and Lucy and Lucy's husband Trino (26), and two grandchildren, Peter (3) and Mary (2) went to the beach area along the river with friends Mrs. Killingsworth and her daughter, Irma (7). The Ramirez family were visiting from Decoto (which was just north of Fremont, California). </div><div><br /></div><div>Tragedy struck while Santo Villa was wading in the water while holding onto the children in a chain formation. Everyone was holding onto the other, and when Santo took a step forward she stepped into a deep hole and the current pulled her under. This was when all the children were pulled into the deep water with her. Immediately Clemente, Trino, Lucy and Mrs,. Killingsworth jumped into the water after the children. </div><div><br /></div><div>Clemente was able to save Irma (Mrs. Killingsworth's daughter). Lucy and Mrs. Killingsworth, could not reach anyone, and the newspapers claimed they barely were able to fight their way back to shore. Trino, the father of young Peter and Mary, dove in after them, but never came back up. </div><div><br /></div><div>Sheriff's deputies were called to the scene, and eventually began to drag the river to retrieve the bodies of the victims once they realized it would be more of a recovery mission, than a rescue. That afternoon, as the boatmen were pulling Trino's body from the river, his wife Lucy was heard screaming from the beach area, <i>"No! No! No!, That's my Trino!" </i></div><div><br /></div><div>Reverend Fr. William Kennedy arrived to the scene to console the bereaved. Clemente stood there hugging his other daughter Vickie and praying at the edge of the beach. All but one of the bodies were found that day. On Saturday, the following day, the body of three-year-old Peter Ramirez washed up a quarter of a mile from the area they had went under.</div><div><br /></div><div>All six of the victims:</div><div><br /></div><div>Trino Ramirez and his two children, Peter and Mary, and his three sister-in-laws Santos, Henrietta and Gloria were all laid to rest together side by side at the Holy Sepulcher Cemetery in Hayward. Their dates of birth and dates of death say nothing about the life they led, nor the way that they died. </div><div><br /></div><div>However, the death dates matching is an indication that something tragic happened that day on July 9, 1955.</div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbykreswlBruLq2t-i1-RlbH6U1UKB6EfEgecFcE6Znmdc4PrQ7twfhbZi3XGCykCFohgGRLtsqo_Ut2BFZNEsfS3BBhSOztIK_Xsk13n3WBpsxH1cLX2Oeic14Nebdf1J9IOXOsbPvGk/s370/20210101_124448+%25282%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="370" data-original-width="370" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbykreswlBruLq2t-i1-RlbH6U1UKB6EfEgecFcE6Znmdc4PrQ7twfhbZi3XGCykCFohgGRLtsqo_Ut2BFZNEsfS3BBhSOztIK_Xsk13n3WBpsxH1cLX2Oeic14Nebdf1J9IOXOsbPvGk/s320/20210101_124448+%25282%2529.jpg" /></a></div><br /><div><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span>Trino Ramirez ( 6/12/1927 -7/9/1955)</span><br /></div><div><span><br /></span></div><div><span><br /></span></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-t7ZF62-JDhE/X-_7k_-NoGI/AAAAAAAAJ1Y/Ic9ZUAJ2Y4QmWRn6pyRCvLZVqxGvAoDkwCPcBGAYYCw/s395/20210101_124448%2B%25283%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="395" data-original-width="376" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-t7ZF62-JDhE/X-_7k_-NoGI/AAAAAAAAJ1Y/Ic9ZUAJ2Y4QmWRn6pyRCvLZVqxGvAoDkwCPcBGAYYCw/s320/20210101_124448%2B%25283%2529.jpg" /></a></div><br /><span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> Peter Ramirez (3/3/1952-7/9/1955)</span><br /></span></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-b7gBohuwnGM/X-_7k_kSzKI/AAAAAAAAJ1g/PJuyvTLfwYQWac5kPbYEztcb874FZVVsQCPcBGAYYCw/s353/20210101_124448%2B%25284%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="353" data-original-width="336" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-b7gBohuwnGM/X-_7k_kSzKI/AAAAAAAAJ1g/PJuyvTLfwYQWac5kPbYEztcb874FZVVsQCPcBGAYYCw/s320/20210101_124448%2B%25284%2529.jpg" /></a></div><br /><div><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> Mary Ramirez (3/2/1953-7/9/1955)</span><br /></div><div><span><br /></span></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-KWOYwGNQzTM/X-_7nGkD0xI/AAAAAAAAJ1k/XsAus3S9OpgDue1oOgnHnIE0A5KzJxGjwCPcBGAYYCw/s355/20210101_124455%2B%25284%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="355" data-original-width="326" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-KWOYwGNQzTM/X-_7nGkD0xI/AAAAAAAAJ1k/XsAus3S9OpgDue1oOgnHnIE0A5KzJxGjwCPcBGAYYCw/s320/20210101_124455%2B%25284%2529.jpg" /></a></div><br /><span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> Santos Villa (4/2/1937 -7/9/1955)</span><br /></span></div><div><span><span><br /></span></span></div><div><span><span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><br /></span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-RjGzF3rmp0s/X-_7mCM4n6I/AAAAAAAAJ1g/x4bbnzYidvwnhHj0o-pmOOC7SaePYLlFQCPcBGAYYCw/s384/20210101_124455%2B%25282%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="346" data-original-width="384" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-RjGzF3rmp0s/X-_7mCM4n6I/AAAAAAAAJ1g/x4bbnzYidvwnhHj0o-pmOOC7SaePYLlFQCPcBGAYYCw/s320/20210101_124455%2B%25282%2529.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /></span></div><div><span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> Henrietta Villa (7/15/1940-7/9/1955)</span><br /></span></div><div><span><span><br /></span></span></div><div><span><span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><br /></span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcGB069yV6ZZC6U-jCZQlwtNWciaLjefWj5zGh6F2UCeDMJtQRRe-n91bjwkgFnX6Cjq2TtHkbh6U95XftmJu5gLq5QfFJG-5u3SUGSm_rsR4NkOZ8DJMMzECVEchyphenhyphen2nw62JssxZtBnqA/s374/20210101_124455+%25283%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="364" data-original-width="374" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcGB069yV6ZZC6U-jCZQlwtNWciaLjefWj5zGh6F2UCeDMJtQRRe-n91bjwkgFnX6Cjq2TtHkbh6U95XftmJu5gLq5QfFJG-5u3SUGSm_rsR4NkOZ8DJMMzECVEchyphenhyphen2nw62JssxZtBnqA/s320/20210101_124455+%25283%2529.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /></span></div><div><span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> <span> </span><span> </span><span> Gloria Villa ( 9/19/1947-7/9/1955)</span></span><br /></span></div><div><br /></div><div>Let us remember this tragedy with love and respect, and let us walk away from this story with the thought that life is very short. This poor family lost not one, not two, but six of their family members in the blink of an eye. I cannot fathom to imagine how Clemente felt, losing three daughters, a son-in-law and two beautiful grandbabies. How Lucy could go on living after watching her two babies and the love of her life disappear into that fast moving water. It breaks my heart just thinking about it.</div><div><br /></div><div>Let us take this story and learn from it. Let us learn that we never know how much time we have with those around us. Remember to tell those whom you love, that you love them. Never let a day go by without letting them know how much they mean to you. Because we never know what is just around the corner. </div><div><br /></div><div>Rest in Peace Villa-Ramirez family.</div><div><br /></div><div>(Copyright 2021-- J'aime Rubio, www.jaimerubiowriter.com)</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>J'aime Rubio, Authorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00087085042404097820noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5490891062683504396.post-79818180067636353652020-11-30T20:46:00.002-08:002020-11-30T20:55:38.502-08:00 The Mystery on Zeyn Street - The Death of Enid Rimpau<p><span style="font-family: arial;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; mso-pagination: none; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: arial;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOJBgfXw4VGIobQYuq4fvBW1mwEkXNaWO14FhI2QZ9xCu9XtEhPVA1X9fj_4WNi27M7786vQAOYWqTFQ4wwc7tCcne_Zpwyw4KW4AFUkjIs0rLvkP7w87KsdeDZ5UTnBPO64eeZ7_cgaA/s510/503ZeynStreet.gif" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="362" data-original-width="510" height="305" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOJBgfXw4VGIobQYuq4fvBW1mwEkXNaWO14FhI2QZ9xCu9XtEhPVA1X9fj_4WNi27M7786vQAOYWqTFQ4wwc7tCcne_Zpwyw4KW4AFUkjIs0rLvkP7w87KsdeDZ5UTnBPO64eeZ7_cgaA/w430-h305/503ZeynStreet.gif" width="430" /></a></span></div><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /><span lang="en-US">"Chapter 1--</span></span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; mso-pagination: none; text-indent: 36pt;"><span lang="en-US" style="font-family: arial; text-indent: 36pt;">Nestled in the quaint historic district of Anaheim, </span><span lang="en-US" style="font-family: arial; text-indent: 36pt;">sits a majestic home originally constructed for a member of the Rimpau family, one of Anaheim’s earliest families. Designed in 1915, by architect, Charles Trudeau, the home was a wedding gift from Theodore </span><span lang="en-US" style="font-family: arial; font-style: italic; text-indent: 36pt;">“Robert” </span><span lang="en-US" style="font-family: arial; text-indent: 36pt;">Rimpau to his new bride, Enid. Their love story has been shrouded in just about as much mystery as the tragic events that took place in the home itself. </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; mso-pagination: none; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><span lang="en-US"> </span><span lang="en-US" style="font-style: italic; text-indent: 36pt;">“Robert,” </span><span lang="en-US" style="text-indent: 36pt;">as he was best known, was born on October 11, 1882, to parents Adolph Rimpau and Natalia Carillo. His legal name was Theodore R. Rimpau, no doubt named after his paternal grandfather, an Anaheim pioneer. Enid Williams was born in Pueblo, Colorado, sometime in February of 1892, to parents William S. Williams and Catherine Ferguson. Enid’s father was originally from Boston, Massachusetts, while her mother was a native of Ohio. </span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><span lang="en-US" style="language: en-US; mso-ligatures: none;"> <span> </span><span> <span> </span></span></span><span lang="en-US" style="text-indent: 36pt;">Some point after the turn of the 20th century, the Williams family moved to California, settling in Los Angeles. Enid’s mother, Catharine eventually separated from her husband after the move to California. The 1910 Census shows that Catharine and Enid were listed as one household. Enid, who was barely 18 years of age, was listed as </span><span lang="en-US" style="font-style: italic; text-indent: 36pt;">“single,” </span><span lang="en-US" style="text-indent: 36pt;">while her mother was listed as a </span><span lang="en-US" style="font-style: italic; text-indent: 36pt;">“widow.”</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><span lang="en-US">Why Catharine listed herself as a widow we will never know for certain.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>More than likely Catharine did not want to explain why she was still married but living alone, given the time period. </span><span lang="en-US">Although the census did not show Enid as having any occupation, her mother was listed as a </span><span lang="en-US" style="font-style: italic;">“promoter” </span><span lang="en-US">for a mining company</span><span lang="en-US">. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><span lang="en-US">It appears that Enid wouldn’t stay with her mother for very long, as records indicate that she married Charles Stone of Glendale, at the courthouse in Santa Ana, on September 21, 1910.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Some newspapers of the time state that the couple lived in Long Beach during their marriage. Within a year, Enid could see that she had made a huge mistake.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Charles’ </span><span lang="en-US" style="font-style: italic;">“intemperate habits” </span><span lang="en-US">were cause enough for Enid to file for a divorce in 1913, when she finally left. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-indent: 36pt;"><span lang="en-US"><span style="font-family: arial;">Enid wanted a fresh start, as far away from Charles as she could travel.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Given the fact that she watched her own mother show strength and independence by leaving her own husband during the early part of the 20th century, must have given Enid the gumption to venture out into the world on her own, knowing she could do it, too.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But where would young Enid go? <o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><span lang="en-US">On July 31, 1914, Enid’s divorce decree was finalized, and she became a free woman again. The small, </span><span lang="en-US">newly settled town of Anaheim, famous for their citrus trees and walnuts, seemed to be just what Enid needed to start over. Once she settled in, she took on two jobs to support herself. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><span lang="en-US">First, she worked at Weber’s bookstore and then also at the millinery store, which designed hats. It is unknown when exactly she met Robert Rimpau, but I assume she must have crossed his path at some point during a visit to Miles Grocery store, where he worked as head clerk.</span><span lang="en-US"> </span><span lang="en-US"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><span lang="en-US">Enid was thought of as attractive, with a </span><span lang="en-US" style="font-style: italic;">“sunny disposition and pleasing manners,”</span><span lang="en-US"> and one who easily became friends with anyone that she met. It didn’t take long before Robert wished to court Enid and propose marriage. As a gift to his future bride, Robert Rimpau hired architect Charles Trudeau to design </span><span lang="en-US" style="font-style: italic;">“one of the finest dwellings”</span><span lang="en-US"> in Anaheim, according to an archived newspaper clipping provided to me by long time Anaheim resident and history enthusiast, John Marshall. The house, located at 503 N. Zeyn Street, reportedly cost Robert Rimpau $3,000.00 to construct. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-indent: 36pt;"><span lang="en-US"><span style="font-family: arial;">The pair were married on July 5, 1915, in Anaheim, and moved into their beautiful new home shortly thereafter. Its grand décor and impeccable design was built to please Enid. From the exquisitely constructed staircase and ornate light fixtures in the entry way, to the built in bookcases and romantic fireplace in the sitting room, every detail showed that Robert Rimpau spared no expense to make his new bride happy. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-indent: 36pt;"><span lang="en-US"><span style="font-family: arial;">
</span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial;"><span lang="en-US"> <span> </span><span> </span><span> </span></span><span style="text-indent: 36pt;">A shocking event took place on Sunday, October 17, 1915. Enid and Robert Rimpau attended mass at St. Boniface church, where they then departed separately after the services. Robert claimed he had some errands to run, so Enid went home by herself.</span><span style="text-indent: 36pt;"> </span><span style="text-indent: 36pt;">After returning home within an hour, Robert stated that he came to find his wife dying from poison.</span><span style="text-indent: 36pt;"> </span><span style="text-indent: 36pt;">He called several doctors to the home, and the first to arrive was Dr. Truxaw.</span><span style="text-indent: 36pt;"> </span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; mso-pagination: none; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><span lang="en-US" style="color: black;"> </span><span style="text-indent: 36pt;">The doctor believed that she was already too far gone from cyanide poisoning and there was nothing that he could do to reverse the effects, and so Enid passed away. Dr. Truxaw ascertained that the vial used to poison Enid was still quite full, enough to kill several more people.</span><span style="text-indent: 36pt;"> </span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; mso-pagination: none; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><span lang="en-US" style="color: black;">According to the Santa Ana Register,</span><span lang="en-US"> Enid was found in an upstairs bedroom, along with a suicide note that read, </span><span lang="en-US" style="font-style: italic;">“I am a failure. God forgive me and bless you.”</span><span lang="en-US"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span><span lang="en-US" style="color: black;">There was no </span><span lang="en-US" style="color: black; font-style: italic;">“official” </span><span lang="en-US" style="color: black;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>inquest done on her death, therefore no one verified as to whether or not the alleged suicide note was even written in Enid’s own hand.</span></span><span style="text-align: center;"> </span><span style="text-align: center;"> </span><span style="text-align: center;"> </span><span style="text-align: center;"> </span><span style="text-align: center;"> </span><span style="text-align: center;"> </span><span style="text-align: center;"> </span><span style="text-align: center;"> </span><span style="text-align: center;"> </span><span style="text-align: center;"> </span><span style="text-align: center;"> </span><span style="text-align: center;"> </span><span style="text-align: center;"> </span><span style="text-align: center;"> </span><span style="text-align: center;"> </span><span style="text-align: center;"> </span><span style="text-align: center;"> </span><span style="text-align: center;"> </span><span style="text-align: center;"> </span><span style="text-align: center;"> </span><span style="text-align: center;"> </span><span style="text-align: center;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; mso-pagination: none; text-indent: 36pt;"><span lang="en-US" style="font-family: arial; text-indent: 36pt;"> </span><span lang="en-US" style="font-family: arial; text-indent: 36pt;">The newspapers reported her death according to Coroner Winbigler’s statement, ruling it a suicide without allowing a proper investigation into her death, and virtually smearing her name as having gone </span><span lang="en-US" style="font-family: arial; font-style: italic; text-indent: 36pt;">“temporarily insane.” </span><span lang="en-US" style="font-family: arial; text-indent: 36pt;"> </span><span lang="en-US" style="font-family: arial; text-indent: 36pt;">The Santa Ana Register stated that for several weeks Enid had shown signs of despondency and melancholia leading up to her death. </span><span lang="en-US" style="font-family: arial; text-indent: 36pt;"> The Anaheim Gazette also claimed that Enid’s friends stated that “</span><span lang="en-US" style="font-family: arial; font-style: italic; text-indent: 36pt;">at times she had been morbid and melancholy without any known cause, consequently it is supposed that she was mentally unbalanced.” </span><span lang="en-US" style="font-family: arial; text-indent: 36pt;"> </span><span lang="en-US" style="font-family: arial; font-style: italic; text-indent: 36pt;"> </span><span style="font-family: arial; text-indent: 36pt;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><span lang="en-US">Interestingly though, the same article then goes on to say, “</span><span lang="en-US" style="font-style: italic;">the friends with whom she lived, declared she was always even tempered, independent and self-reliant, and never showed any signs of a diseased mind.” <o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><span lang="en-US" style="font-style: italic;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span><span lang="en-US">It also stated, “</span><span lang="en-US" style="font-style: italic;">friends who saw her in the store Saturday night observed no difference in her demeanor, and many who talked to her after the Sunday morning service declared that she was in her usual spirits at the time.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-indent: 36pt;"><span lang="en-US"><span style="font-family: arial;">Enid was a very independent woman, and even after marrying Robert, she still worked at Weber’s bookstore.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Yes, she had made remarks that she was alone a lot and that she would rather be working than be alone at the house, meaning that her husband was not spending much time with her. That didn’t necessarily mean she was suicidal. It just meant she was lonely at home, and perhaps she missed her husband. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-indent: 36pt;"><span lang="en-US"><span style="font-family: arial;">An insurance man by the name Al Nowotny came forward claiming that just days before Enid died, she had asked him if a life insurance policy would pay out in the event of a suicide. He explained that it would not pay out unless an entire year had lapsed. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-indent: 36pt;"><span lang="en-US"><span style="font-family: arial;">If such a conversation had taken place, why would she have decided to go through with the act of killing herself, especially if more than likely any insurance policy she may have had might not have covered her suicide?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There was never any mention as to whether or not Enid even had a life insurance policy to begin with. This tidbit of information published in the newspapers seemed even more strange.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><span lang="en-US" style="language: en-US; mso-ligatures: none;"> <span> </span><span> </span><span> </span></span>After Enid died, her body was taken to Backs and Terry’s Undertaking to be prepared for burial. Her body was brought over to her father-in-law’s home at 412 E. Center Street, for her viewing. On Tuesday, October 19, 1915, Enid’s funeral took place at St. Boniface Church, and the eulogy was given by Father Dubbel, the same person who officiated over her wedding just three months earlier. The Knights of Columbus were in attendance and acted as pall bearers; E.E. Brus, Leo Sheridan, L.B. Webber, Al Erikson and Ben Dauser.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><span lang="en-US"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span>After the services, Enid was laid to rest in a crypt inside the Anaheim Community Mausoleum at the Anaheim Cemetery, on Sycamore Street.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span><span lang="en-US"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: arial;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggHZ6vUZZ-Vwjs37Gjj3sE2oS-jrkaLZUlg9Ff4TJJfYMAioz1v_8PaxWgfu8HTiroRFcqlAtnOM6Hf9YL9h-Bwmya7w1jTddk7v-avI4bXoujqC124A3BYBuDRTL7JjaWKCoVNpzbtp4/s2048/Enid+Rimpau+Death.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1202" data-original-width="2048" height="295" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggHZ6vUZZ-Vwjs37Gjj3sE2oS-jrkaLZUlg9Ff4TJJfYMAioz1v_8PaxWgfu8HTiroRFcqlAtnOM6Hf9YL9h-Bwmya7w1jTddk7v-avI4bXoujqC124A3BYBuDRTL7JjaWKCoVNpzbtp4/w501-h295/Enid+Rimpau+Death.jpg" width="501" /></a></span></div><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial;"><span lang="en-US"><span> </span><span> </span>Enid Rimpau is not interred in the Rimpau family crypt as most would assume. The Rimpau family crypt is a private crypt on the grounds of the cemetery. The Community Mausoleum, where she is interred, is the oldest public mausoleum in the State of California and located at the other end of the cemetery.</span><span lang="en-US"> <o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="en-US"><span style="font-family: arial;"> If you visit Enid’s wall crypt you will find that the marker on her crypt has the wrong year of birth. You see, Enid fibbed when she married Robert. She was not twenty-two years old, but in fact she was twenty-three. When Enid married Charles Stone, she claimed to be nineteen years old, although she really was eighteen. The census records from 1900 and 1910 verify that she was born in February of 1892, therefore when she died her age was in fact twenty-three years and eight months. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="en-US"><span style="font-family: arial;">
</span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial;"><span lang="en-US"> <span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><o:p></o:p></span>So the question remains, how did Enid meet her demise? Yes, we could believe that she was just so miserable in her life that the only way she could escape was to end it. Unfortunately, I have always had a hard time believing this. Her very character, which was long since established in the community along with her past actions in life, prove that she was not a quitter.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="en-US"><span style="font-family: arial;"> She left an abusive husband and started a new life on her own. She worked two jobs to support herself and yet always kept a kind and humble demeanor, making friends with just about everyone she met. Does that really sound like someone who would just give up? If she was unhappy with her marriage to Robert, what was stopping her from leaving him? <o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><span lang="en-US">Considering the theory that Enid didn’t kill herself, then who poisoned her? I have often wondered what the Rimpau family thought of Enid. Could it have been someone within in the Rimpau family, who may not have approved of Robert marrying a </span><span lang="en-US" style="font-style: italic;">divorcée</span><span lang="en-US"> </span><span lang="en-US">? Maybe it was even her own husband, Robert Rimpau. Another thought, possibly it wasn’t the Rimpau’s at all, but perhaps her ex-husband Charles who may have caused her death?<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><span lang="en-US">Had someone poisoned her, then how was it done? Was she forced to swallow the cyanide or did she drink unknowingly, such as from a glass laced with poison? If she was poisoned that way, the killer would have probably taken the small vial of poison and conveniently placed it near her along with a </span><span lang="en-US" style="font-style: italic;">“suicide note,” </span><span lang="en-US">to make the scene believable as to not draw suspicion. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial;"><span lang="en-US"> <span> </span><span> </span><span> </span>If Enid was truly suicidal, wouldn’t she have downed the entire vial, to guarantee her death was sure and fast? But instead she lingered, and died in a most horrible way. </span><span lang="en-US"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial;"><span lang="en-US" style="text-indent: 36pt;"><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span>Another possibility is that when attempting to commit suicide, after tasting the foul poison on her palate, she found that she couldn’t compel herself to drink any more, leaving the vial still quite full, but having ingested enough to be a fatal dose</span><span lang="en-US" style="text-indent: 36pt;">. </span><span lang="en-US" style="text-indent: 36pt;">I have come to the conclusion that there is no way to know for certain what exactly happened that day in 1915. Enid took those answers with her to the grave.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="en-US"><span style="font-family: arial;"> <span> </span><span> </span><span> </span>The current owners of the house, Tracey Drennan and Thomas Gaul, came across the history of home while searching the address on the internet. They had looked at over 40 houses on the market before they came across the Rimpau House. After doing a search on Google, they came across my original blog on Enid’s story. The couple later made contact with me. They revealed that it was Enid’s story that intrigued them even more and consequently convinced them that the house was the perfect home for them! <o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><span lang="en-US" style="font-style: italic;">“The house was in bad shape,” </span><span lang="en-US">Drennan recalled. </span><span lang="en-US" style="font-style: italic;">“It had such a sad character about it. It had been neglected and damaged by the previous owners, but it was love at first sight for us. We knew there had to be a lot of restoration involved, but we appreciated the history behind the home and saw the potential in what it could become again. We closed in December of 2013, and moved in March of 2014.” </span><span lang="en-US"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><span lang="en-US">Although a great portion of the home had been neglected for so many years, Tracey mentioned that parts of the home were still intact, such as the closet under her staircase which still has the home’s original wallpaper. </span><span lang="en-US"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial;"><span lang="en-US"><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span> </span><span lang="en-US"><o:p></o:p></span>Tracey and her husband, Thomas bought the home through Anaheim’s famed realtor Meghan Shigo, who specializes in the town’s historic homes. Keeping the homes historically accurate and preserved is part of the Mills Act Program which Megan is very passionate about. Through the Mills Act, the current owners have restored the Rimpau house to its original grandeur, once again breathing life back into this beautiful home.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="en-US"><span style="font-family: arial;"> <span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span>I remember seeing the house on Zeyn Street many times while riding in the backseat of my mother’s Oldsmobile when I was just a child. Even just in a passing glance on a trip to the park, the house seemed to lure me in, though I never knew there was a story to discover hidden behind its very walls. It wasn’t until I was an adult, and a mother myself, that I noticed the house again on a trip with my children to Pearson Park.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="en-US"><span style="font-family: arial;"><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span> I felt that yearning to explore the home once again. I asked my grandfather, George Mac Laren, about it and he directed me to the Anaheim Library to do some investigating. It was there that I satisfied my curiosity and unraveled a mystery. I fell in love with the home, just the same as the current owners. There is a certain air of mystery and familiarity that has always drawn me to the Rimpau home.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-indent: 36pt;"><span lang="en-US"><span style="font-family: arial;">Enid’s death was my very first in-depth historical investigation which spiraled me into the world of historical investigative writing that I am known for today. In many ways, Enid is responsible for pushing me in that very direction. Although she never knew that her life, or tragic death, would in turn, change someone else’s life so many years later. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial;"><span lang="en-US"> <span> </span><span> </span></span><span lang="en-US"> <o:p></o:p></span><span style="text-indent: 36pt;">The desire that ignited inside of me and the drive that fueled my tenacity to research, all started as one tiny spark that lit into a flame. That spark started when I became enamored by the home at 503 N. Zeyn Street and grew as I learned of the tragedy of Enid Rimpau’s mysterious death.</span><span style="text-indent: 36pt;"> </span><span style="text-indent: 36pt;">With that in mind, I felt it was only right that Enid’s story be my very first chapter in my book, so that she no longer remains one of the “forgotten.”---</span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal">From the book <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Stories-Forgotten-Infamous-Famous-Unremembered/dp/1523981172">"Stories of the Forgotten: Infamous, Famous & Unremembered,"</a> by J'aime Rubio (Copyright 2016). </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0px;"><span style="text-indent: 36pt;">To</span><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11pt; text-indent: 36pt;"> Purchase your copy on Amazon click here: </span><a href="https://www.amazon.com/Stories-Forgotten-Infamous-Famous-Unremembered/dp/1523981172" style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11pt; text-indent: 36pt;" target="_blank"> https://www.amazon.com/Stories-Forgotten-Infamous-Famous-Unremembered/dp/1523981172</a></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none;"><span lang="en-US" style="language: en-US; mso-ligatures: none;"> <o:p></o:p></span></p>J'aime Rubio, Authorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00087085042404097820noreply@blogger.com0