Chapter 31 of Sixty Years in Southern California, 1853 to 1913 by Harris Newmark. This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Recording by Kay Hand. Chapter 31 The End of Vasquez, 1874. Although a high school had been proposed for Los Angeles as early as 1860, it was not until 1873 during Dr. W. T. Lucky's superintendency and under his teaching that high school courses were inaugurated here. Then the more advanced students were accommodated in the schoolhouse on Pound Cake Hill where the courthouse now stands, and from this humble beginning the present high school system of Los Angeles has been evolved. Later, under Dr. T. H. Rose's leadership, the grammar departments were removed to the other school buildings and the high school was conducted as an independent institution. In 1874, S. Lazard and Company dissolved Eugene and Constance Meyer succeeding on June 15th under the firm name of Eugene Meyer and Company, or as the store was better known, the City of Paris. Charles H. or Charlie White, long prominent in the passenger department of the Southern Pacific entered the service of the Los Angeles and San Pedro Railroad in 1874 as John Milner's assistant and soon became the regular ticket agent here. After 40 years of invaluable service, he is still with the Southern Pacific occupying the important position of Chief Clerk of the General Passenger Office. George H. Peck, county superintendent of schools between 1874 and 1876, was a vermonter who came in 1869 and bought 500 acres of land near El Monte. On his first visit to the coast, Peck handled hay in San Francisco when it was worth $200 a ton. Then he mined a little, and subsequently he opened the first public school in Sacramento and the first industrial school in San Francisco. Andrew A. Weinschank, a veteran of the Battle of Vera Cruz who came to Los Angeles in 1856, died on February 16, 1874. For a while he sold homemade sauerkraut, pickles, and condiments, and was one of a well-known family in the German pioneer group here. Carrie, one of Weinschank's daughters, married a circus man named Lee who made periodical visits to Los Angeles, erecting a small tent, at first somewhere in the neighborhood of the present times building, in which to conduct his show. Later, Polly Lee became a writer in the circus and with her father electrified the youth of the town when Lee, in the character of Dick Turnerpin, and mounted on his charger Black Bess, carried off the weeping Polly to his den of free-booters. A son, Frank A. Weinschank, was a pioneer plumber. In the early seventies, while the Southern Pacific Railway was building from San Francisco to San Jose, some 12 or 15 bandits, corousing at a country dance in the Mexican settlement Panamá, about six miles south of Bakersfield, planned to cross the mountains and hold up the pay-car. They were unsuccessful, whereupon they turned their attention to the village of Trispinos, robbed several storekeepers, and killed three or four men. They were next heard of at Little Kingston, in Tulare County, where they plundered practically the whole town. Then they once more disappeared. Presently, various clues pointed to the identity of the chief bandido, as one Tiburcio Vasquez, born in Monterey in the thirties, who had taken to the life of an outlaw, because, as he fantastically said, some gringos had insolently danced off with the prettiest girls at Fandangos, among them being his sweetheart, whom an American had wronged. With the exception of his lieutenant, Chavez, he trusted no one, and when he moved from place to place, Chavez alone accompanied him. In each new field he recruited a new gang, and he never slept in camp with his followers. Although trailed by several sheriffs, Vasquez escaped to Southern California, leading off the wife of one of his associates, a bit of gallantry that contributed to his undoing, as the irate husband at once gave the officers much information concerning Vasquez's life and methods. One day, in the spring of 1874, Vasquez and three of his companions appeared at the ranch of Alessandro Rapeto, nine miles from town, disguised as cheap shearers. The following morning, while the inmates of the ranch house were at breakfast, the highwaymen entered the room and held up the defenseless household. Chavez informed Rapeto that he was organizing a revolution in lower California and merely desired to borrow the trifling sum of $800. Rapeto replied that he had no money in the house, but Vasquez compelled the old man to sign a check for the sum demanded, and immediately dispatched to town a boy working for Rapeto with the strict injunction that if he did not return with the money alone, and soon his master would be shot. When the check was presented at the Temple and Workman Bank, the people, who happened to be there, became suspicious but could elicit from the messenger no satisfactory response to his questions. The bank was but a block from the courthouse, and when Sheriff Roland hurriedly came, in answer to a summons, he was inclined to detain the lad. The boy, however, pleaded so hard for Rapeto's life that the sheriff agreed to the messengers returning alone with the money. Soon after, Roland and several deputies started out along the same trail, but a look outside of the approaching horseman and gave the alarm. Vasquez and his associates took to flight, and were pursued as far as Tehunga Pass, but as the cutthroats were mounted on fresh horses, they escaped. Even while being pursued, Vasquez had the audacity to fleece a party of men in the employ of the Los Angeles Water Company, who were doing some work near the Alhambra tract. The well-known Angeleno and engineer in charge, Charles E. Mills, was relieved of an expensive gold watch. In April 1874 Sheriff Roland heard that Vasquez had visited the home of Greek George, the smirneo camel driver to whom I have referred, and who was living about ten miles from Los Angeles, near the present location of Hollywood. Roland took into his confidence D. K. Smith and persuaded him to stroll that way, ostensibly as a farmer's hand seeking employment, and within two weeks Smith reported to Roland that the information as to Vasquez's whereabouts was correct. Roland then concluded to make up a posse, but in as much as a certain element kept Vasquez posted regarding the Sheriff's movements, Roland had to use great precaution. Anticipating this emergency, city detective Emil Harris, four years later chief of police, had been quietly transferred to the Sheriff's office, in addition to whom Roland selected Albert Johnson, under Sheriff, B. F. Hartley, a local policeman, J. S. Bryant, City Constable, Mayor Henry M. Mitchell, an attorney, D. K. Smith, Walter Rogers, proprietor of the Palace Saloon, and G. A. Beers, a correspondent of the San Francisco Chronicle. All these were ordered to report one by one with their horses, shortly after midnight, at Jones's Corral on Spring Street, near Seventh. Arms and ammunition, carefully packed, were likewise smuggled in. Whether true or not that Vasquez would speedily be informed of the Sheriff's whereabouts, it is certain that, in resolving not to leave his office, Roland sacrificed for the public wheel such natural ambition that he cannot be too much applauded, not even the later reward of eight thousand dollars really compensating him for his disappointment. By half past one o'clock in the morning the eight members of the posse were all in the saddle and silently following a circuitous route. At about daybreak, in Dent's Fog, they camped at the mouth of Nichols' Canyon, two miles away from the house of Greek George, where Charles Knowles, an American, was living. When the fog lifted, Johnston, Mitchell, Smith, and Bryant worked their way to a point whence they could observe Greek George's farm, and Bryant, returning to camp, reported that a couple of gray horses had been seen tied near the ranch house. Shortly thereafter, a four-horse empty wagon, driven by two Mexicans, went by the canyon, and was immediately stopped and brought in. The Mexicans were put in charge of an officer, and about the same time, Johnston came tearing down the ravine with the startling statement that Vazquez was undoubtedly at Greek George's. A quick consultation ensued, and it was decided by the posse to approach their goal in the captured vehicle, leaving their own horses in charge of Knowles, and having warned the Mexicans that they would be shot if they proved treacherous. The deputies climbed into the wagon and lay down out of sight. When a hundred yards from the house, the officers stealthily scattered in various directions. Harris, Rogers, and Johnston ran to the north side and heartily in beers to the west. Through an open door, Vazquez was seen at the breakfast table, and Harris, followed by the others, made a quick dash for the house. A woman waiting on Vazquez attempted to shut the officers out, but Harris injected his rifle through the half-open door and prevented her. During their excitement, Vazquez climbed through a little window, and Harris, yelling, there he goes, raised his Henry rifle and shot at him. By the time Harris had reached the other side of the house, Vazquez was a hundred feet away and running like a deer toward his horse. In the meantime, first heartily, and then the other officers used their shotguns and slightly wounded him again. Vazquez then threw up his hands, saying, Boys, you've done well, but I've been a damned fool and it's my own fault. The identity of the bandits thus far had not been established, and when Harris asked his name he answered, Alessandro Martinez. Footnote, not the Spanish Alejandro, a variation doubtless suggested by the Italian Rapetto's forename. And footnote. In the meantime, captors and prisoner entered the house, and Vazquez, who was weakened from his wounds, sat down, while the young woman employed the officers not to kill him. At closer range a good view was obtained of the man who had so long terrorized the state. He was about five feet, six or seven inches in height, sparely built with small feet and hands, in that respect, by no means suggesting the desperado. With a low forehead, black, coarse hair and mustache, and furtive, cunning eyes. By this time the entire posse, accepting Mitchell and Smith, who had followed a man seen to leave Greek-Georgias, proceeded to search the house. The first door opened, revealed a young fellow holding a baby in his arms. He, the most youthful member of the organization, had been placed on guard. There were no other men in the house, although four rifles and six pistols, all loaded and ready for use, were found. Fearing no such raid, the other outlaws were afield in the neighborhood, and being warned by the firing they escaped. One of Vasquez's guns, by the way, has been long preserved by the family of Francisco Yabara, and now rests secure in the county museum. Underneath one of the beds was found Vasquez's vest, containing Charlie Miles' gold watch, which Harris at once recognized. The prisoner was asked whether he was seriously hurt, and he said that he expected to die, at the same time admitting that he was Vasquez and asking Harris to write down some of his bequests. He said that he was a single man, although he had two children living at Elizabeth Lake, and he exhibited portraits of them. He protested that he had never killed a human being, and said that the murders at Traspinos were due to Chavez's disobedience of orders. The officers part a wagon from Judge Thompson, who lived in the neighborhood, into which they loaded Vasquez, the boy, and the weapons, and so proceeded on their way. When they arrived near town, Smith and Mitchell caught up with them. Mitchell was then sent to give advance notice of Vasquez's capture and to have medical help on hand, and by the time the party arrived, the excitement was intense. The city fathers then in session rushed out Pell-Mell and crowds surrounded the jail. Dr. K. D. Wise, health officer, and Dr. J. P. Whitney, county physician, administered treatment to the captive. Vasquez in irons pleaded that he was dying, but Dr. Whitney as soon as he had examined the captive, warned the sheriff that the prisoner, if he escaped, would still be game for a long day's ride. Everybody who could visited him, and I was of no exception. I was disgusted, however, when I found Vasquez's cell filled with flowers sent by some white women of Los Angeles who had been carried away by the picturesque career of the bandito, but Sheriff Rowland soon stopped all foolish exuberance. Vasquez admitted that he had frequently visited Mexicans in Los Angeles, doing this against the advice of his Lieutenant Chavez, who had warned him that Sheriff Rowland also had good friends among the Mexicans. Among those said to have been in confidential touch with Vasquez was Mariano G. Santa Cruz, a prominent figure in his way, in Sonora Town. He kept a grocery about 300 feet from the old plaza church on the east side of Upper Main Street and had a curiously assorted household. There, on many occasions, it is declared Vasquez found a safe refuge. Five days after the capture, Señor Rapeto called upon the prisoner who was in chains and remarked, I have come to say, that so far as I am concerned, you can settle that little account with God Almighty. Vasquez, with characteristic flourishes, thanked the Italian and began to speak of repayment. When Rapeto replied, I do not expect that. But I beg of you, if ever you resume operations, never to visit me again. Whereupon Vasquez, placing his hand dramatically upon his breast, exclaimed, Ah, Señor, I am a Cavalier with a Cavalier's heart. Señor Rapeto, yo soy un caballero con el corazon de un caballero. As soon as Vasquez's wounds were healed, he was taken by Sheriff Roland to trace Penos and there indicted for murder. Miller and Lux, the great cattle owners, furnished the money it was understood for his defense, supposedly as a matter of policy. His attorneys asked for and obtained a change of venue and Vasquez was removed to San Jose. There he was promptly tried, found guilty, and in March 1875, hanged. Many good anecdotes were long told of Vasquez, one of which was that he could size up a man quickly, as to whether he was a native son or not, by the direction in which he would roll a cigarette, toward or away from himself. As soon as the long-feared bandit was in captivity, local wits began to joke at his expense. Abrelesque on Vasquez was saged late in May at the Merced Theatre, and the day the outlaw was captured, a merchant began his advertisement. Vasquez says that Mendelmeyer has the finest and most complete stock of dry goods and clothing, etc. In the spring of 1874, Charles McClay, with whom were associated George K. and F. P. Porter, purchased the San Fernando Rancho, which consisted of 56,000 acres, and embraced the old Spanish mission, and on April 20th, McClay invited fifty of his friends to a picnic on his newly acquired possession. During the day someone suggested founding a town there. The name of the new settlement was to be decided by a vote of the participants, and almost unanimously they selected the title of San Fernando. Within a couple of weeks hundreds of lots were sold, and the well-known colony was soon on the way to prosperity. Boring for petroleum commenced in the San Fernando Mountains about that time, and the new town became the terminus of the Southern Pacific until the long tunnel was completed. McClay, who was a native of Massachusetts, came to California at about the same time I did. He was at first a tanner in Santa Cruz, but later came south, and entering into politics in addition to his other activities became state senator, in which position he attained considerable local prominence. A charming home of the seventies was that of Doctor and Mrs. Shaw, pioneers situated as I recollect on San Pedro Street, perhaps as far south as what is now Adams. They conducted a diversified nursery, including some orange trees, to obtain which Shaw had journeyed all the way to Nicaragua. Toward the end of April, 1874, General E. F. Beale and Colonel R. S. Baker, representing themselves and New York capitalists, sought support for a new railroad project, a single track line to run from this city to Shoe Fly Landing. Located, I think, near the present Playa del Rey and considerably north of San Pedro, where a town, Truxton, doubtless named after the General's son, was to be founded. The proposed railway was to be known as the Los Angeles and Truxton Railroad, with a route from the western part of the city in the direction of Cinega and the Rincón de los Buyes, along a corner of the Bayona. The estimated length of the line was fourteen miles and the projectors claimed that it would enable the Angelenio to reach San Francisco within thirty hours with but one night at sea, and so add to the comfort, convenience and cheapness of passenger travel. A new harbor and an additional pier, stretching far into the ocean, were to be features of the enterprise, but for some reason or other nothing grew out of the movement. As late as the following September, the promoters were still interviewing councilmen and ranch owners, but the Los Angeles and Truxton Railroad remained a mere fancy of the financier and engineer. For a resort that never came to be settled by a community, Truxton acquired some fame in the early seventies, a rumor also being current in the summer of 1874 that a fine seashore hotel was to be built there. A clipping before me of the same date even says that the roads to Santa Monica, Truxton, and Will Tells are in splendid order, the former being the finest natural highway on the Pacific coast. F. X. Eberle and his wife, Marcethe, came here in 1874, bought six or seven acres on the corner of San Pedro and the present eighth streets, and fitted up the city gardens with bowling alleys, swings, lawns, and bowers, erecting there also a picturesque windmill. I have expressed the surprise that I felt when upon my return from New York in 1868, I observed that the approaches to the hills were dotted here and there with little homes. This extension of the residence area, together with the general lack of street and sidewalk improvements, making travel to and from the town somewhat inconvenient, suggested I have no doubt the need of the first street railroad here. In 1869, Judge R. M. Whitney, together with his associates, obtained a 50-year franchise, and by 1874, the Little Spring and Sixth Street line, in time bought by S. C. Hubbell and J. E. Holland Beck, had been built and was in operation. It is my recollection that this line, partly paid for by subscriptions from property owners along the selected route, each of whom contributed 50 cents per running foot, began at the plaza and extended as far out as Pearl and Sixth Streets by way of Main, Spring, 1st, 4th, 4th, Hill, 5th, and Olive. And that it was at the 6th and Pearl Street terminus that the almost miniature wooden barn was put up. For the convenience of the traveling public, two bobtailed one-horse cars with a small platform at each end were used over a single track, approximately but two and a half miles in length. And to permit these cars to pass each other when they met halfway along the line, a turnout or sidetrack was constructed. Many a time, at such a siding, have I wasted precious minutes awaiting the arrival of the other, belated car, and the annoyance of these delays was accentuated when, in winter, the cars stuck in the mud and often required an hour or more to make the run from one end of the line to the other. Indeed, the ties having been laid almost on the surface of the streets, surface and bad weather was sometimes suspended altogether. Each car was in charge of a driver who also acted as conductor and was permitted to stop as often as he pleased to take on or let off passengers. And while the single horse or mule jogged along slowly, the driver, having wound his reins around the handle of the brake, would pass through the never crowded vehicle and take up the fares. Single rides cost ten cents, four tickets were sold for two bits, and 20 tickets were given for a dollar. So Provincial was the whole enterprise that passengers were expected to purchase their tickets either at W.J. Broderick's bookstore or of Dr. Fred P. Howard, the drugist. At a later period, a metal box with a glass front was installed into which the passenger was required to drop his coin or ticket. In those modest days, small compensation in public utility enterprises, if such they could be called, was quite acceptable, and since the spring and sixth street line had proven rather profitable, it was not long before W.J. Broderick, Governor Downey, O.W. Childs, Dave Waldron, I.W. Hellman, and others inaugurated a second horse railway. This was popularly known as the Main Street Line and extended straight down Main Street from Temple Block to Washington Gardens. Much of the same kind of equipment was used, one horse or mule poking along with a bob-tailed car in tow, seating at most eight or ten passengers. But the fare for adults was ten cents and for children five. At night, the motor power and the couple of cars were housed in a barn at either Main or Washington Street. Soon after this line was in running order, it was extended from Washington South to Jefferson, out to Jefferson to Wesley, now University Avenue, and thence to the racetrack at Agricultural Park. And there the shed for this section was erected. Still later, a branch was built out Washington Street to Figueroa and down Figueroa to Jefferson, where it connected with the first extension. No formal transfers were made, transfer tickets first coming into Vogue in Los Angeles about 1889. Two routes for the cars were arranged, both running between Temple Block and the racetrack. The entire system was controlled by the Main Street and Agricultural Park Railroad Company, with which W.J. Broderick was associated as its first president, continuing in that office until his death in 1898. In 1877, Colonel John O. Wheeler, the Kwandam journalist, was manager. Later, E.M. Loric was superintendent, the same Loric who built the line between Oakland and Berkeley, and was finally killed by one of his own cars. James Gallagher, who went to work for the Main Street and Agricultural Park Railroad Company in October 1888, and who had charge also of one of the first electric cars run here, is still a streetcar conductor, pleasantly known, with the longest record for service of any conductor in the city. As I have said, travel in winter was anything but expeditious and agreeable, and it was not uncommon for passengers, when a car left the track, to get out and assist in the operation of putting it back. Notwithstanding these drawbacks, however, the mule car novelty became popular with some, and one Spanish girl in particular, whose father amply supplied her with pocket money, was a frequent passenger, running back and forth from hour to hour for months. As late as 1887, there were no cars before six o'clock in the morning, or after ten o'clock at night, and in that same year, serious complaint was made, that despite a city ordinance forbidding any street railway company to carry more than 40 persons in a car drawn by a single horse, the ordinance was shamefully disregarded. Another regulation, then frequently disobeyed, was supposed to limit smoking to the rear end of streetcars. The same year, DV Waldron bought about 35 acres on the southwest corner of Main and Washington Streets, soon known as the Washington Gardens. Later, Shoots Park. These gardens, among the most popular pleasure resorts here, were served by the Main Street cars which ran direct to the gate. In addition to a sudden afternoon variety show that held forth in a small pavilion and secured most of its talent from Wood's opera house, there was also dancing for those who wished to indulge. I may add that this so-called opera house was nothing more than a typical Western song and dance resort, the gallery being cut up into boxes where the actresses between the acts mingled with the crowd. Patrons indulged in drinking and smoking in the bar in front of the thriving business. An insignificant collection of animals, one of which, an escapee monkey, once badly bit Waldron, attracted not only the children, but their elders as well. And charmingly arranged walks amid trees and bowers afforded innocent and helpful means of recreation. Waldron later went to Alaska, where a tragic death closed his career. Alone and in want, he was found in May 1911, dead in his hut. Waldron and Eberle's prosperity may have influenced George Lehmann's fortunes, but however that was, he had always maintained his popularity. Many a joke was cracked at his expense, yet everybody had a good word for him. Here is a newspaper note of seventy-four. Roundhouse George is making great improvements in his property at Fort and Sixth Streets. He has already at great expense set out a post and whitewashed a cactus plant. The popularity of the Thirty-Eights Fire Company soon inspired a second group of the good men of Los Angeles, and in 1874 or 1875, George Ferman, George E. Gard, Joe Manning, John R. Byerly, Bryce McClellan, and others started Confidence Engine Company number two, obtaining a steamer known as Nemoskiag, which they installed in a building on Main Street near first, on what was later the site of Child's Opera House. It soon developed, as in the days of the San Pedro Stages, when the most important feature of the trip was the race to town, that a conflagration was a matter of secondary importance, the mad dash in rivalry by the two companies being the Paramount Object. This was carried to such an extent that day following a fire was largely given to discussing the race, and the first thing that everybody wished to know was who got there first. Indeed, I believe that many an alarm was sounded to afford the boys around town a good chance to stake their bets. All this made the fire laddies, the most popular groups in the Pueblo, and in every public parade for years, the volunteer fire companies were the chief attraction. In 1876, Walter S. Moore, an arrival of 1875, became the Confidence Engine Company's secretary, that being the commencement of his career as a builder of the department. In 1877, Moore was elected president, occupying that office till 1883, when he was made chief engineer of the Los Angeles Fire Department. On May 13th, 1874, the Los Angeles Daily Star contained the following reference to Mr. and Mrs. Joseph Newmark in an event of particular interest to me and my family. Mr. Newmark, Pear, and wife, were among the passengers for San Francisco by the senator yesterday. This well-known and highly esteemed couple go to attend the marriage of their son, Judge M.J. Newmark, which occurs on the 7th Proximo, as announced in Asar some time ago. Eugene Meyer and myself attended the wedding, leaving Los Angeles by stage and completely surprising the merry company a few moments before the groom's father performed the ceremony. The fair bride was Miss Sophie Cahen, and the occasion proved one of the very agreeable Myerle Stones in an interesting and successful career. The firstborn of this union, Henry M. Newmark, now of Morgan and Newmark, has attained civic distinction, being president of the library board. The reason we journeyed north by stage was to escape observation, for since the steamer service had been so considerably improved, most of our friends were accustomed to travel by water. The Pacific Mail Steamship Company, at that time was running the senator, the Pacific, the Orizaba, and the Monjongo, the latter being the gum boat sold by the government at the end of the war, and which remained on the routes until 1877. While the line controlled by Goodall Nelson and Perkins, or Goodall Nelson and Company, had on their list the Constantine, the Calorama, the Monterey, and the San Luis, sometimes also running the California, which made a specialty of carrying combustibles. A year later, the Ancon commenced to run between San Francisco and San Diego, and accepting half a year when she applied between the Golden Gate and Portland was a familiar object until 1884. The Farmers and Merchants Bank on June 15th, 1874, moved to their new building on the west side of Main Street, opposite the Bella Union. On July 25th, 1874, Conrad Jacoby commenced in the old LaFrenco building, the weekly Sud-Colefonisch Post, and for 15 years or more, remained the only German newspaper issued in Southern California. Jacoby's brother, Philo, was the well-known sharpshooter. Henry T. Payne, the early photographer, was probably the first to go out of town to take views in suburbs then just beginning to attract attention. Santa Monica was his favorite field and a newspaper clipping or two preserved the announcements by which the wet plate artist stimulated interest in his venture. One of these reads, Mr. Payne will be at Santa Monica next Sunday and take photographic views of the camp, the ocean, the surrounding scenery, and such groups of campers and visitors as may see fit to arrange themselves for that purpose. While another and rather contradictory notice is as follows. To make photographs of moving life, such as Mr. Payne's bathing scenes at Santa Monica next Saturday, it is absolutely necessary that everybody should keep perfectly still during the few seconds the plate is being exposed. For the least move might completely spoil an otherwise beautiful effect. Santa Monica, with its bathers and nice costumes sporting in the surf, with here and there an artistically posed group basking in the sunshine, ought to make a beautiful picture. As late as 1874, Fort Street, not yet called Broadway, was almost a plain except for the presence of a few one-story adobe houses. J. M. Griffith, the lumberman, put up the first two-story frame-dwelling house between second and third streets and judge H. K. S. O. Mulvaney, the second, shortly after which Eugene Meyer and myself built our homes in the same block. These were put upon the lots formerly owned by Burns and Buffham. Within the next two or three years, the west side of Fort Street between second and third was the choicest residence neighborhood in the growing city, and it was certainly not the remotest idea at that time that this street would ever be used for business purposes. Sometime later, however, as I was going home one day, I met Griffith, and we walked together from Spring Street down first, talking about the new county bank and its cashier, J. M. Elliott, whom Griffith had induced four years previously to come to Los Angeles and take charge of Griffith Lynch and company's lumberyard at Compton. We then spoke of the city's growth, and in the course of the conversation, he said, Newmark, Fort Street is destined to be the most important business thoroughfare in Los Angeles. I laughed at him, but time has shown the wisdom of Griffith's prophecy. The construction of this Fort Street home I commenced in the spring contracting with E. F. Kaiser as the architect and was skinner and small as the builders. In September, we moved in, and I shall never forget a happy compliment paid us the first evening. We had already retired when the sound of music and merriment made it unmistakable that we were being serenaded. Upon opening the door, we saw a large group of friends, and having invited them into the house, the merry-makers remained with us until the early morning hours. In July, 1874, the Los Angeles County Bank was started with a capital of $300,000, its first directors being R. S. Baker, Jotham Bixby, George S. Dodge, J. M. Griffith, Vincent A. Hoover, Jonathan S. Slosson, and H. B. Tishner, with J. M. Elliott as cashier. Its first location was the room just rented by the Farmers and Merchants Bank joining the Bella Union. The county bank's step in that direction being due, no doubt, to a benevolent desire to obtain some of its predecessors' business. And in July, 1878, it moved into the Temple and Workman banking room after the latter's failure. For a while, the county bank did both a commercial and a savings business, but later it forfeited the savings clause of its charter, and its capital was reduced to $100,000. In time, John E. Plater, a well-known Angelenio, became a controlling factor. About the end of 1874, Edward F. Spence, who had come to California by way of the Nicaragua route a year earlier than myself, reached Los Angeles. In 1884, Spence was elected mayor on the Republican ticket. In the course of time, he withdrew somewhat from activity in Los Angeles and became a heavy investor in property at Monrovia. In 1874 or 1875, there appeared on the local scene a man who, like his second cousin, United States Senator Mallory of Florida, was destined to become a character of national renown, a man who, as such, could, and as a matter of fact, did serve his constituents faithfully and well. That man was Stephen M. White. He was born in San Francisco a few weeks before I saw that harbor city and was therefore a native son, his parents having come to the coast in 1849. While a youth, he was sent to Santa Clara, where in June 1871 he graduated from the well-known college. He read law at Watsonville and later at Santa Cruz and having been admitted to the bar in 1874, he shortly afterward came to the Southland. Arriving in Los Angeles, White studied law with John D. Bicknell, who afterward took him into partnership and he soon proved to be a brilliant lawyer. He was also an orator of the first magnitude and this combination of talent made him not only prominent here, but attracted great attention to him from beyond the confines of city and county. Standing as a Democrat in 1882, he was elected district attorney by a large majority and in that capacity served with distinction, in the end, declining renomination. In 1886 he was elected state senator and soon became president of the Senate and then acting lieutenant governor. After a phenomenal career, both in his profession and in the public service, during which he was one of three counsel elected by the California legislature to maintain the Scott Exclusion Act before the United States Supreme Court and thus conclude the controversy in the Che Chan Ping case, he was elected to the United States Senate and there too, his integrity and ability shown resplendent. The zeal with which White so successfully entered the conflict against CP Huntington in the selection of a harbor for Los Angeles was indefatigable and the tremendous expenditures of the Southern Pacific in that competition, commanding the best of legal and scientific service and the most powerful influence are all well known. Huntington built a wharf 4,600 feet long at Port Los Angeles, northwest of Santa Monica after having obtained control of the entire frontage and it was to prevent a monopoly that White made so hard to fight in Congress on behalf of San Pedro. The virility of his repeated attacks, his freedom from all contaminating influence and his honesty of purpose, these are some of the elements that contributed so effectively to the final selection of San Pedro Harbor. On February 21st, 1901, Senator White died. While at his funeral, I remarked to General H.G. Otis, his friend and admirer, that a suitable monument to White's memory ought to be erected and on December 11th, 1908, the statue in front of the county courthouse was unveiled. Footnote, executive committee of the Memorial Fund, MP Snyder Chairman, Joseph Scott, Secretary, James C.K.'s Treasurer, F.W. Braun, A.B. Cass, R.F. DeVal, I.B. Dockweiler, W.J. Hunsaker, M.H. Newmark, and H.G. Otis. And footnote, hotel competition was lively in 1874. Charles Nolton concluded his advertisement of the Pico House with a large index finger and the following assurance, the unpleasant odor of gas has entirely disappeared since the building of the new sewer. Hamill and Denker announced for the United States, commonly known as the U.S., we have all spring beds at this hotel. Fleur and Gerson, the latter long, a popular chap about town, claimed for the Lafayette. The eating department will be conducted with a special care. And this was some of the bait displayed by the Clarendon, formerly the Bella Union. Carriages are kept standing at the door for the use of guests and every effort is being made by Colonel B.L. Beal, the present manager, to render the guests comfortable and happy. A couple of years later, the name of the Clarendon was changed to the St. Charles, next to which, during the Centennial year, the Grand Central, pretentious of name, though small of dimension, opened with a splurge. Hamill and Denker continued to manage the United States Hotel. The Lafayette in time became first the Cosmopolitan and then the St. Elmo. Octavius Morgan, a native of the old cathedral town of Canterbury, England, came to Los Angeles in 1874 and associated himself with the architect E.F. Kaiser, the two forming the firm of Kaiser and Morgan. They were charter members of the Southern California Architects Association and for many years, Morgan and his associates have largely influenced the architectural styles of Los Angeles. A really picturesque old-timer, even now at the age of nearly 70 and one who, having withstood the lure of the modern automobile, is still daily driving a one-horse buggy to the office of the Los Angeles Soap Company, is J.A. Forthman. In 1874, he brought a small stock of groceries from San Francisco and started a store at what is now 6th and Olive Streets. But at the end of three months, having sold out at a loss, he bought a quarter interest in a little soap plant conducted by C.W. Gibson. Soon thereafter, vats and fat were moved to their present site on 1st Street. In 1875, W.B. Bergen and in 1879, Gideon Lesage joined Forthman and Gibson. And in 1887, the latter sold out to his associates, J.J., a brother of W.B. Bergen, was added to the force in 1895. For many years, the Concertan dealt in hides, and this brought us into close business relations. I have referred to the death of four children. Edith, a child of six, was taken from us on October 15th, 1874. While William F. Turner, son of the miller, was busy in his little store near the Puente Mills about three miles from El Monte, on the 3rd of June, 1874, a Californian named Romo, who lived at Pio Pico's Ranchito, entered and bought some goods, also asking to be shown a pair of boots. Turner stooped to reach the articles when the stranger drew a pruning knife across his throat. In defense, the storekeeper caught hold of the sharp blade with both hands, and thereby crippled himself for the rest of his days. Turner had been in the habit of closing before dark on account of the rough element nearby, and when he did not return home at the accustomed hour, Mrs. Turner, taking with her a little five shooter, set out to find him and arrived in the midst of the murderous assault. Her pistol missed fire, but she succeeded in seizing the assassin and dragging him away from her husband, after which the Mexican shot her just as Turner, bleeding, fell in the road. The explosion aroused a neighbor who reached the scene after Romo had fled with some boots, mostly for one foot, and $70 in cash. When the news passed from mouth to mouth in El Monte, a posse started out to hunt for the Mexican, but after two days' unsuccessful search, they gave up the job. Ned, Fred Lamborn, who had a share in Turner's business, rushed in on Jake Schlesinger, shouting excitingly, by God, Jake, I know where the fellow is, and Jake and the others responded by saddling their horses and hurrying to a rendezvous at Durfee's farm. The party of 19 included John Broded and Bill Cooper, broke up into divisions of one or two, and in time found themselves wading in and out of the San Gabriel River and the Puente Creek. Soon old Dodson spied their quarry, fluttering across stream, and when Schlesinger took a pop at him, the culprit cried out, don't shoot, and agreed to come ashore. Of the money stolen, although a few dollars was found on the prisoner, nevertheless the captors told him that, as soon as Turner should identify him, he would be hung and that there was not much time for foolishness. Romo said that he had assaulted the storekeeper in order to get money with which, on the following Sunday, to marry. That his immediate need was a cigar, and that if he must die, he would like to have his friends notified that they might bury him. Jake handed the doomed man his only weed, and soon after, five or six masked men wrote up and announced that they would care for the criminal. Then they drove under a tree on the bank of the river, and there, in short order, the cutthroat was hanged. Pio Pico soon heard of the lynching and sent Jake and the Almonte boys' word that he would come over and kill the whole dam to lot of them, in reply to which, Almonte forwarded to the last of the Mexican governors a cordial invitation to come, at the same time pledging to receive him in true California style, with due hospitality and warmth. This was contemporaneous with the Vasquez excitement, and Roma was probably bent on imitating the outlaw. End of Chapter 31. Chapter 32 of 60 years in Southern California, 1853 to 1913 by Harris Newmark. This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Recording by Kay Hand. Chapter 32, the Santa Anita Rancho, 1875. Until near the end of the 70s, there was very little done toward the laying of sewers. Although the reader will remember that a private conveyor connected the Bella Union with the Zongia running through Malice's row. Los Angeles Street from first to second, in 1873, had one of brick and wood, and in 1875 a brick sewer was built from the corner of Maine and Arcadia Streets down to Winston and thence to Los Angeles Street. It must have been in the early 70s that a wooden sewer was constructed on Commercial Street from Los Angeles to Alameda, and another on New High Street for about one block. In 1879, one of brick was laid from Los Angeles and commercial as far north as Arcadia and connecting with the Main Street sewer. At about this same time, vitrified clay was used on a portion of Temple Street. My impression is that there was no cloaca laid on Spring Street until after 1880, while it was still later that Fort Hill and Olive Streets were served. As late as 1887, Hope Street had no sewer and very little conduit building, if any had been undertaken south of Seventh or west of Flower. In January 1875, the commercial bank that was to change five years later into the First National began business. Most of the incorporators were San Diego men, among them being Captain Henry Wilcox, although four, L.J. Rose, S.H. Mott, R.M. Town, and Edward Buton were from Los Angeles. M.S. Patrick of Chicago was president and Edward F. Spence was cashier. Their room was on Main Street between Commercial and Rakina. J.E. Hollenbeck, who was succeeded by Spence, was the first president of the National Bank. J.M. Eliot, made cashier in 1885, has for years well filled the office of president. A pillar of strength in this institution is Vice President Stoddard Jess. Captain Wilcox, owner of the Colorado Steam Navigation Company, who finally sold out to the Pacific Mail Steamship Company, brought to California, on his own vessel in 1848, the first lighthouses. He married Senorita Maria Antonia Arguello, the granddaughter of an early governor of California. One of his daughters became the wife of Lieutenant Randolph Huntington Minor, and another married Lieutenant J. C. Drake. Captain Wilcox had induced E.F. Spence to come from San Diego to Los Angeles and thereby gave a decided impetus to the starting of the commercial bank. Milton Lindley, formerly an Indiana saddlemaker and treasurer of Los Angeles County in 1879, arrived here in 1875, accompanied by Walter the Physician. Henry the banker, who settled at Whittier, Albert an attorney, and Miss Ida B., a teacher. In the 80s, he was twice supervisor. Dr. Walter Lindley, once a Minnesota schoolmaster, so soon established himself that in 1878 he was elected health officer and in 1880 a member of the Board of Education. The following year, he was president of the County Medical Society. With Dr. Whitney, he contributed to the literature setting forth California's natural attractions and with his brother-in-law, Dr. John R. Haynes, he took a leading part in organizing the California Hospital. Both Lindley and Haynes have identified themselves with many other important local institutions and movements. Madam Caroline Severance already distinguished as the founder in 1868 of the First Women's Club in America, the New England of Boston, took up her residence in Los Angeles in 1875 and soon made her home El Nido, the center of many notable sociological and philanthropic activities. Especially active was she in promoting the free kindergarten, working in cooperation with Mrs. Grover Cleveland and Kate Douglas Wigan, the California author who was her protege and resided for some time at El Nido when she was first becoming famous as a story writer. On March 27th, the weekly mirror was again enlarged and a subscription rate of $1 a year was charged. By the beginning of 1876, a bindery was established in connection with the printery and a platter cylinder press, one of the first operated West of the Rockies, was installed. E.J. Baldwin bought the Santa Anita Rancho in April from H. Newmark and Company. A transaction recalled 38 years later, when in 1913, the box which had been sealed and placed in the cornerstone of the Trinity Methodist Episcopal Church at about the time of the sale was brought forth from its long burial. Baldwin had just sold his controlling interest in the Ophir Mine of the Comstac District for $5,500,000. In the same year, we purchased of the Vajhar Estate, the splendid vineyard of 50 acres commencing at Washington Street, on the south and a little east of Main Street and taking in many important sections of today, selling it in the early 80s to Caspar Cone who, in turn, disposed of it during the boom of that decade. George Comper, somewhat noted as a local entomologist, cared for this vineyard while we owned it. Baldwin died on March 1st, 1909. The sale of the Santa Anita is not without an incident or two, perhaps of exceptional interest. On Lucky Baldwin's first visit, he offered us $150,000 for the property, but learning that we wanted $200,000, he started off in a huff. Then Reuben Lloyd, the famous San Francisco attorney who accompanied him, said, on reaching the sidewalk, Lucky, go back and buy that ranch or they'll raise the price on you. And Baldwin returned, carrying under his arm a tin box containing several million dollars, from which he drew forth $12,500, tendering the same as a first payment. One could hardly refer to Baldwin without recalling H.A. Unruh in the late 60s in the employ of the Central Pacific. It is my impression that I first met him at the Baldwin Hotel in San Francisco. This meeting may have occurred nearly 35 years ago, and after his removal to the Santa Anita Ranch where he took charge of Baldwin's interests in the Southland, he transacted a large amount of business with H. Newmark and Company. In 1887, Unruh was also in partnership at La Puente with a man named Carol, the firm advertising as Agents for Baldwin's Grain Warehouse, Wells Fargo and Company's Express and Postmaster. When Baldwin died, his will named Unruh executor, Bradner W. Lee, being the attorney. Ravenna, on the Southern Pacific, was a town of the middle seventies at whose start James O'Reilly, an Irishman of medium build with reddish hair and a pug nose, decidedly indented at the bridge, turned up with a happy-go-lucky air.  He had a grocery famed for a conglomeration of merchandise, not at all improved by age and hard usage, and this he sold to a none too fastidious clientele. He also cooked for himself, bragging that he was sufficiently adroit to throw a slap jack up the chimney and catch it in the pan outside the shanty on its flop or turn. When Jim took to working a couple of claims known as the New York and Parnell Mines, his tribulations began. He spent more in the development of his property than he ever recovered, and claim jumpers bothered him to death. In truth, once ascribing debatable motives to a man prowling there, he took aim at the intruder and shot off an ear. Later he married, but his wife soon divorced him. In time his troubles affected his mind, and having lost everything and come to fancy himself an alchemist, he would sit for hours in the burning sun, his temples plastered with English mustard, industriously stirring a pestle and convinced that he could bring about a transmutation of the mortarful of mud.  J. A. Graves arrived in Los Angeles on June 5th and soon entered the office of Brunson and Eastman lawyers. The following January, he was admitted to practice before the Supreme Court and then became a member of the firm of Brunson, Eastman, and Graves, dissolved in 1878. Practicing alone for a couple of years, Graves in 1880 formed a partnership with J. S. Chapman. On the dissolution of this firm in 1885, Graves joined first H. W. O. Mulvaney and then J. H. Shankland. Graves, O. Mulvaney, and Shankland continuing until January 1904. On June 1st, 1903, Graves became Vice President of the Farmers and Merchants National Bank. In the fall of 1879, the young attorney married Miss Alice H., daughter of J. M. Griffith, and for nine years they lived at the corner of Fort and Third Streets. In 1888, they removed to Alhambra where they still live. In 1912, Graves published some entertaining reminiscences entitled Out of Doors, California and Oregon. Colonel W. E. Morford, a native of New Jersey and late in the 80s superintendent of Streets returned to Los Angeles in 1875 having previously been here. Morford had been assistant to Captain Sutter and when he left San Francisco on March 14th, 1849 to return East, he carried the first gold taken from the Diggings in the exciting era of 1848. This gold was sent by Frank Lemon, a member of Stevenson's Regiment, to his brother William, a partner of John Anderson, the New York tobacco merchant. And Morford liked to tell how when the strange find was displayed on August 22nd in a little window of the well-known jewelry store of Benedict at Seven Wall Street near a high-hatted guard, the narrow thoroughfare was soon beyond hope of police control, thousands of curious, excited people struggling to get a glimpse of the California treasure. Moses Langley Wicks was a Mississippian who for some years had a law office at Anaheim until in 1877 or 1878 he removed to Los Angeles and soon became an active operator in real estate. He secured from Jonathan S. S. Lawson who organized the Asusa Land and Water Company and helped lay out the town, the Dalton section of the San Jose Ranch. Wicks was also active in locating the depot of the Santa Fe Railroad, carrying through at private expense the opening of Second Street from Maine almost to the river. A brother, Moyer Wicks, long an attorney here, later removed to the state of Washington. Southern California was now prospering, in fact the whole state was enjoying wonderful advantages. The great Comstock mines were at the height of their prosperity. The natural resources of this part of the country were being developed. Land once hard to sell at even $5 an acre was being cut up into small tracks. New Hamlets and towns were starting up. Money was plentiful and everybody was happy. About this time my brother J.P. Newmark and I made a little tour visiting Lake Tahoe and unusual trip in that day as well as the mines of Nevada. Virginia City, Gold Hill and other mining camps were the liveliest that I had ever seen. My friend, General Charles Foreman was then superintendent of the Overman and Caledonia mines and was engaged in constructing a beautiful home in Virginia City. After the collapse of the Nevada boom in the early 80s he transported this house to Los Angeles at a freight expense of $1,135 and a total cost of over $6,000 and located it on 10 acres of land near the present site of Pico and Figueroa streets where Mr. and Mrs. Foreman, still residents of Los Angeles for years have enjoyed their home. Miners were getting high wages and spending their money lavishly. Owners of buildings in Virginia City receiving from four to 8% a month on their investments. W.C. Rawlston, president of the Bank of California at San Francisco was largely responsible for this remarkable excitement for he not only lent money freely but he lent it regardless of conservative banking principles. He engaged in indiscriminate speculation for a time legitimizing illegitimacy and people were so incited by his example that they plunged without heed. All of Nevada's treasure was shipped to San Francisco whose prosperity was phenomenal. From San Francisco the excitement spread throughout the state but these conditions from the nature of things could not endure. From bull to bear is but a short step when the public is concerned and it happened accordingly as it so frequently does that the cry of save yourself if you can involved California in a general demoralization. One day in October 1875 when Rawlston's speculation had indeed proven disastrous the Bank of California closed its doors and a few days after this Rawlston going a swimming in the neighborhood of the North Beach at San Francisco was drowned. Whether a suicide or not, no one knows. In the meantime the recessional frenzy extended all over the state and every bank was obliged to close its doors. Those of Los Angeles were no exception to the rule and it was then that temple and workmen suspended. I.W. Hellman who was on a European trip at that time forthwith returned to Los Angeles reopened the doors of the Farmers and Merchants Bank and resumed business just as if nothing had happened. Following this panic times became dreadfully bad. From greatest prosperity we dropped to the depths of despair. Species disappeared from circulation, values suffered and this was especially true of real estate in California. Temple and workmen's bank for reasons I have already specified could not recover. Personally these gentlemen stood well and had ample resources but to realize on these was impossible under conditions then existing. They applied to E.J. Baldwin, a Monte Cristo of that period for a loan. He was willing to advance them $210,000 but upon two conditions. First that they would give him a blanket mortgage on their combined real estate. Secondly that their intimate friend Juan Matias Sanchez would include in the mortgage his splendid tract consisting of 2,200 acres of the finest land around the old mission. Sanchez who transacted a good deal of business with H. Newmark and Company came to me for advice. I felt convinced that Temple and workmen's relief could be at best but temporary although I am sure that they themselves believed it would be permanent and so I strenuously urged Sanchez to refuse which he finally promised me to do. So impressive was our interview that I still vividly recall the scene when he dramatically said, no quiero morir de hombre. I do not wish to die of hunger. A few days later I learned to my deep disappointment that Sanchez had agreed after all to include his lands. In the course of time Baldwin foreclosed and Sanchez died very poor. Temple also, his pride shattered notwithstanding his election in 1875 to the county treasure ship died a ruined man and workmen soon committed suicide. Thus ended in sorrow and despair the lives of three men who in their day had prospered to a degree not given to every man and who had also been more or less distinguished. Baldwin bought in most of the land at Sheriff's sale and when he died in 1909 after an adventurous career in which he consummated many transactions he left in the state of about 20 millions. A pathetic reminder of Sanchez and his one-time prosperity is an asador or meat toaster from the old Sanchez homestead now exhibited at the county museum. In 1874 Senator John P. Jones came south and engaged with William M. Stewart his senatorial colleague once an obscure lawyer in Downeyville and later in Nevada Croesus. In mining at Panamint purchasing all their supplies in Los Angeles. About the same time Colonel RS Baker who had shortly before bought the San Vincente Rancho sold a two-thirds interest in the property to Jones and one of their first operations was the laying out of the town of Santa Monica. After the hotel and bathhouses had been built an auction sale of lots took place on July 16th, 1875 and was attended by a large number of people including myself. Perspective buyers coming from as far as San Francisco to compete with bidders from the Southland. Tom Fitch already known as the silver-tongued orator was the auctioneer and started the ball rolling with one of his most pyrotechnical efforts. He described the place about to be founded as the zenith city by the sunset sea and painted a gorgeous vista of the day when the white sails of commerce would dot the placid waters of the harbor and the products of the Orient would crowd those of the Occident at the great wharves that were to stretch far out into the Pacific. Then Tom turned his attention and eloquence to the sale of lots which lay along Ocean Avenue each 60 by 150 feet in size. Calling for a bed he announced the minimum price of $300 for sites along the ocean front. Several friends, I.M. Hellman, I.W. Hellman, Kaspar Kohn, Eugene Meyer and M.J. Newmark had authorized me to act for them and I put in the first bid of $300. Fitch accepted and stated that as many more of these lots as I wanted could be had at the same price whereupon I took five located between Utah and Oregon avenues. These we divided among us each taking 50 feet front with the exception of building summer houses. But strange to say none of us did so and in the end we sold our unimproved ground. Some years later I bought a site in the next block and built a house which I still occupy each year in the summer season. Three early characters of Santa Monica had much to do with the actual starting of the place. The one, L.G.Guro, a Canadian, walked out to Santa Monica one day in 1875 to get a glimpse of the surf and came back to town, the owner of a lot on which he soon built the second permanent house there, a small grocery and liquor shop. In the 80s, Giro did good public service as a supervisor. The second, Billy Wrapp, also came in 1875 and built a small brick house on the west side of Second Street, somewhere between Utah and Arizona avenues. There, after marrying a German frau, he opened a saloon and pleasure seekers visiting Santa Monica on Sundays long remembered Billy's welcome and how on arrival of the morning train from Los Angeles, he always tapped a fresh keg of lager. After a while, he closed his saloon and sold a little building for a town hall. Hard times in later years wrapped at Billy's door, forcing him to work on the public streets until 1899 when he died. The third settler was George Bohm who landed with the first steamer and within an hour or two invested in lots. His family is there today. Another pioneer Santa Monica family was that of William D. Vaughn, who with his sons W.S. and E.J., originally members of the Indiana colony at Pasadena, removed to the beach in 1875. My relations with these gentlemen were quite intimate when they conducted a general merchandise business, that being but one of their numerous enterprises. Of late years, W.S. Vaughn has twice been postmaster at Santa Monica. In 1875, Paul Kern, who had come to Los Angeles in 1854 and was for years a baker, set to work to improve a piece of property he owned at the junction of South Main and Spring Streets between 8th and 9th. At the end of this property, he erected a two-story brick building, still to be seen, in the lower part of which he had a grocery and a saloon and in the upper part of which he lived. Toward the middle of the 70s, A. Olyard, the baker, embarked in the carrying of passengers and freight between Los Angeles and Santa Monica, sending a four-horse stage from here at half past seven every morning and from Santa Monica at half past three in the afternoon and calling at all four Los Angeles hotels as well as at the private residences of prospective patrons. One dollar was the fare charged. Ralph Leon had the only regular cigar store here in the late 60s occupying a part of the United States Hotel and he was very prosperous until unable to tolerate a nearby competitor, George, a brother of William Pridham. He took up a new stand and lost much of his patronage. Pridham opened the second cigar store about 1872 or 1873 next to the hotel and Leon moved to a shop near the Farmers and Merchants Bank. The names of these early dealers remind me of an interesting custom especially popular with Captain Tom, Billy Workman, and other lovers of the aromatic weed. Instead of buying cigars by the peace, each of these inveterate smokers purchased a box at a time where his name on the lid and left it on a shelf of the dealer and from time to time they would slip in by a rear door and help themselves, generally from their own or occasionally from their neighbor's supply. When Leon discovered that the patron's box was empty he would have it refilled. In the autumn, Temple and Workman were obliged to suspend. After closing temporarily, they made an effort to resume but a run on the bank deprived them of all reserves and they finally had to close their doors. It was the worst of all bank failures here. The creditors losing everything. Some of the idea of the disaster may be gathered from the fact that the receiver finally sold worthless securities to the extent of about $300,000 for the poultry sum of $30. On the 6th of November, 1875, Mrs. Joseph Newmark, my wife's mother, died here surrounded by her nearest of Kin. During the construction of the Southern Pacific Railway, Sisson Wallace and Company who furnished both labor and supplies brought M. Doddsworth to Los Angeles and like many of their employees, he remained here after the railroad was completed. He engaged in the pork packing business for a long period prospered and built a residence on the Southwest corner of 6th and Main Streets opening it with a large reception. He was an honorable man and had a host of friends, but about 1887 when the Santa Fe had been built to Los Angeles, the large Eastern Packers of hog products sent agents into Southern California and wiped Doddsworth out of business. S.J. Mathis came in 1875, helped enlarge the mirror and was identified with the times, but failing help forcing him to abandon office work led him in the 80s to conduct Pullman excursions in which undertaking he became a pioneer, bringing thousands of tourists to the Southland. He also toured the country with a railway car exhibit known as California on Wheels pointing the way of exploitation to later chambers of commerce. Toward the end of the year, when attention was being centered on the coming exposition at Philadelphia, I was asked by the Chamber of Commerce to assist in editing a report on the resources, conditions, population, climactic advantages and mercantile interests of the city and county of Los Angeles. The aim of the board was to make the report truthful and helpful and to distribute it gratis, particularly at the Centennial. Ben C. Truman wrote about cities, towns and climate. Judge R.M. Whitney reported on railroads, H. McClellan, the steamship agent who preceded Willis Paris, the present representative and once a competent bill clerk in the employee of H. Newmark and Company. And brother of Bryce and George F. McClellan told of ocean navigation. Dr. J. E. Fulton of Fulton Wells, discussed farming. Dr. J. P. Whitney described our harbor. D. M. Barry argued for real estate. Governor Downey presented banks and banking. M. Keller and L. J. Rose treated of vine culture. J. D. B. Shorb looked after semi-tropical fruits and nuts. N. T. A. Gary, himself the owner of a charming place on San Pedro Street, where his spiritualistic tendencies kept him up at night, awaiting the arrival of spooks, considered other fruits and nurseries. W. J. Broderick stated our advance in trades, professions, churches and societies, E. C. French summed up about stock. Captain Gordon recounted our prospects for beat culture, while H. D. Barrows and I prepared data as to the commerce of Southern California. Thus compactly put together, this booklet certainly led many Easterners to migrate west and settle in Los Angeles and vicinity. In the early 70s, grange stores brought into existence by a craze for cooperation were scattered throughout the state and Milton H. LaFaithra in February 1875 helped to organize one here. In time this establishment became known first as Seymour and Company and then as Seymour Johnson and Company, their location being on Main Street near first. W. H. Northcraft's activity as an auctioneer began about the middle of the 70s. For a while he had an office and temple block, but about 1880 moved to the east side of Los Angeles street near Brachina, later to the Sinurette building and still later to the Baker Block. In 1879, Thomas B. Clark, still well known in the profession, came to Los Angeles and marrying Northcraft's daughter, joined his father-in-law in partnership. C. L. Northcraft, a son, was added to the firm. Alonzo B. Cass came to Los Angeles in 1888, accompanied by his brothers and soon after as Cass Brothers Stove Company, they started a hardware store on Third Street, purchasing some of the Northcraft and Clark's stock of merchandise. A. B. Cass, who served as President of the Chamber of Commerce in 1901, has freely given of his time to public movements. As President of the Home Telephone and Telegraph Company, he has had much to do with their local success. E. W. Noyes was also a popular old-time auctioneer remaining in harness until he was 75 years old or more. The mention of these names recalls the auction of past decades, such a familiar feature of Los Angeles life. In few respects were the methods of early days at all like those of our own. There were no good catalogs, no neatly arranged storerooms, and but little expert service. Noise and bluff constituted a good, even important portion of the necessary auctioneering talent. Household effects were usually offered at homes. Horses and these constituted the objects of most early auctioning activities were trotted up and down Los Angeles Street for display and sale. End of Chapter 32. Chapter 33 of 60 Years in Southern California, 1853 to 1913 by Harris Newmark. This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Recording by Kay Hand. Chapter 33 Los Angeles and Independence Railroad, 1876. Once Santa Monica's boom had been launched, the town developed as had few other suburbs of Los Angeles. Within nine or 10 months, a thousand inhabitants pointed with satisfaction to 160 houses and perhaps half as many tents. Senator Jones built a wharf and pushed a completion the Los Angeles and Independence Railroad. And the road was open to the public on Wednesday, December 1st, 1875 with the depot on San Pedro Street near Wolfskill Lane. Two trains a day were run, one leaving Los Angeles for Santa Monica at half past nine in the morning and another at a quarter after four in the afternoon. The trains from Santa Monica for Los Angeles departing at half past seven in the morning and half past two in the afternoon. On January 5th, 1867, the railroad company offered 60 single commutation tickets for $10. And a few days later, the conductor and other train employees appeared in uniform, each wearing on his cap what was then considered an innovation, the badge of his office. Captain Joseph U. Crawford was superintendent and chief engineer. From the start, the road did a thriving freight business although passenger traffic was often interfered with. Early in January, 1876, for instance, the train from Santa Monica failed to make its appearance. The engineer having spied a bit of ground suspiciously soft in the Cineaga, locally spelled Cineaga, refused despite the protest of passengers to proceed. There were also inconveniences of travel by steamers such as a rose from the uncertainty whether a vessel running between San Francisco and San Diego would put in at San Pedro or Santa Monica. According to conditions, or perhaps through the desire to throw a little trade one way or the other, the captain might insist on stopping at one port while friends had assembled to greet the traveler at the other. A single car with such objects of wonder as air brakes and Miller couplers drew Sunday crowds. And when, about the middle of January, the company carried down the 10 car loads of people on a single day and brought them back safely, substantial progress it was generally felt had been made. In February, the Santa Monica Land Company was pushing its sales of real estate and one of its announcements began with a headline, Santa Monica, the wonderful young city and seaports of Southern California, the future terminus of the Union and Texas Pacific Railroad. The advertisement winding up with the declaration that several hundred vessels, including the largest boats of the Pacific Mail Steamship Company had already loaded and discharged at the wharf in all weathers. My memory is obscure as to just when Senator Jones built his splendid mansion at the corner of Ocean and Nevada avenues, but I think it was about 1890. I certainly recollect that it was then considered the most extensive and elaborate home in the vicinity of Los Angeles. Rather late in January, H. Newmark and company had their first experience with burglars who scaled the wall behind the store one Saturday night, cut away enough brick to enable them to throw back the bolt of the door, then barricaded the front doors by means of crowbars and proceeded to open the safe, which was of the old Tilton and McFarland pattern. The face was forced off, but the $800 in the safe remained intact and undisturbed. The burglars making a total haul of only $5. Other merchants also suffered at this time from the depredation of cracksmen. Following this futile attack, we sent for a new safe of the hall type. Scarcely had a month elapsed, however when a second attempt was made in much the same way. Then the burglars went to work in real earnest and soon affected an entrance into the money drawers. But alas, the entire content secured would not have provided a half a dozen tamales. This fact probably aroused the ire of the rascals for they mutilated the front of the prettily decorated safe before leaving and tried to destroy the combination. The best excuse and perhaps not such a bad one that the police had to offer for not furnishing Los Angeles Street better protection was that the night was dark, the streets and sidewalks flooded, and that a policeman who had tried the beat had been nearly drowned. In February, trains on the Los Angeles and Independence Railroad began to leave Los Angeles at 10 o'clock in the morning and five o'clock in the afternoon. In Santa Monica at eight and four o'clock, the company deeming it a sufficient inducement to allow excursionists five or six hours to bathe, fish or picnic. Round trip tickets, good for the day and the date only, were sold at a dollar each and the management reserved the rights on steamer days to change the schedule to fit the sailings. When a fourth passenger coach was added to the equipment, the company declared that the accommodations between this city and Santa Monica were equal to those on any road along the entire coast. But the high watermark of effort was reached when it was announced that the splendid palace card dubbed Santa Monica, which had carried Senator Jones to Washington was then being sent south from San Francisco for the convenience of the company's patrons. In March, while the San Pedro Street railway was being built, another official announcement said that, in the course of a few days, the people of this city will have the honor and delight of seeing a palace car standing on a railroad track near the Pico house. And about the end of March, printers ink displayed this appeal to the expectant to public. Go by all means to the grand seaside excursion to Santa Monica. On Friday, for among the objects of interest will be Senator Jones' magnificent new palace car, now being completed by the tailors, which will have three salons supplied with tables and all the usual comforts, and two private compartments, the whole sumptuously furnished and partly beholstered with crimson velvet. On February 14th, General Andrés Pico died at his residence, two of three main street, and was buried from his home on the following day. On March 1st, work was commenced on the San Pedro Street Railway, which in time was extended from the Santa Monica station to the plaza via San Pedro, Los Angeles, Arcadia and Sanchez streets. The gauge was that of the Los Angeles and Independence Railway, thus permitting freight cars to be hauled to the center of the city, on which account businessmen looked upon the new road as a boon. Passenger cars soon ran from the depot to the Pico house, and as the fare was but five cents or 30 tickets for a dollar, this line was rewarded with a fair patronage. At the end of 1876, four street railways were in operation here. In March also, 200 pleasure seekers, then considered a generous outpouring, went down to Santa Monica on a single Sunday, and within the first three months of the year, the land company there gathered in about $73,000, selling a lot almost every day. South Santa Monica was then looked upon as the finer part of the growing town, and many of my friends, including Andrew Glassel, Cameron E. Tom, General George Stoneman, E. M. Ross, H. M. Mitchell, J. D., and Dr. Frederick T. Bicknell, and Frank Ganal, bought sites there for summer villas. Micah D. Johnson, twice city treasurer, was a Quaker who came here in 1876. He built at Santa Monica a hotel which was soon burned, and later he became interested in the colony at Whittier, suggesting the name of that community. In 1876, the city purchased a village hook and ladder truck in San Francisco, which, drawn by hand in the vigorous old-fashioned way, supplied all our needs until 1881. In 1876, the Archer Freight and Fairbill, which sought to regulate railroad transportation and grossed the attention of commercial leaders. And on March 9th, President S. Lazard called together the directors of the Chamber of Commerce at the office of Judge Ignacio Sepolveda. Besides President Lazard, there were present R. M. Whitney, W. J. Broderick, M. J. Newmark, E. E. Hewitt, and I. W. Lord. Little Time was lost in the framing of a despatch, which indicated to our representatives how they would be expected to vote on the matter. Several speeches were made, that of M. J. Newmark focusing on the sentiment of the opposition and contributing much to defeat the measure. Newmark expressed surprise that a bill of such interest to the entire state should have passed the lower house apparently without discussion, and declared that Southern Californians could never afford to interfere with the further building of railroads here. Our prosperity had commenced with their construction, and it would be suicidal to force them to suspend. In a previous chapter, I have spoken of the rate, $10 per thousand, first charged for gas, and the public satisfaction at the further reduction to $7.50. This price was again reduced to $6.75, but lower rates prevailing elsewhere, Los Angeles consumers about the middle of March held a public meeting to combat the gas monopoly. After speeches more lured, it is feared than any gas flame of that period, a resolution was passed binding those who signed to refrain from using gas for a whole year if necessary, beginning with the 1st of April. Charles H. Simskins, president for the Los Angeles Gas Company, retorted by insisting that at the price of coal, the company could not possibly sell gas any cheaper, but a single week's reflection, together with the specter of an oil lamp city, led the gas company on March 21st to grant a reduction to $6.00 a thousand. Will Tell was a painter in 1869 and had his shop in Temple Block opposite the courthouse. Early in 1876, he opened a lunch and refreshment house at the corner of Fourth Street and Utah Avenue in Santa Monica, where he catered to excursionists, selling hunting paraphernalia and fishing tackle, and providing everything including fluids. Down at what is now Playa del Rey, Tell had conducted, about 1870, a resort on a lagoon covered with flocks of ducks, and there he kept eight or 10 boats for the many hunters attracted to the spot, becoming more and more popular and prosperous. In 1884, however, raging tides destroyed Tell's happy hunting grounds, and for 15 or 20 years, the King's Beach was more desert than resort. Tell continued for a while at Santa Monica and was an authority on much that had to do with local sport. On Sunday, April 9th, the Cathedral of Sancta Viviana, whose cornerstone had been laid in 1871 on the east side of Main Street, south of Second, was opened for public service. Its architecture, similar to that of the Proto de San Miguel in Barcelona, Spain, at once attracting wide attention. As a matter of fact, the first cornerstone had been placed on October 3rd, 1869 on the west side of Main Street between 5th and 6th, when it was expected that the Cathedral was to extend to Spring Street. The site, however, and oddly enough, was soon pronounced too far out of town, and a move was undertaken to a point farther north. In more recent years, efforts have been made to relocate the Bishop's Church in the west end. A feature of the original edifice was a front railing along the line of the street, composed of blocks of artificial stone made by Busford and Hamilton, who in 1875 started a stone factory, the first of its kind here in East Los Angeles. Victor Dole, who arrived here in the centennial year and became the Delmonico of his day, kept a high-grade restaurant known as the Commercial in the Old Downey Block, about 150 feet north of the corner of Spring and Temple Streets. The restaurant was reached through a narrow passageway that first led into an open court paved with brick in the center of which a fountain played. Crossing this court, the interested patron entered the main dining room where an excellent French dinner was served daily at a cost of but 50 cents and where the popular chef furnished many of the notable banquets of his time. Dole also had a number of private dining rooms where the epicures of the period were want to meet and for the privilege of dining in which there was an additional charge. Dole's commercial was a popular institution for more than a quarter of a century. Dole then had in his employ an uncle who was a rather mysterious individual and who proved to be a French anarchist. It was said that his pet scheme for regulating the government of Louis Philippe meant with such scant approval that one fine day he found himself in jail. Escaping in the course of time from the anxious and watchful authorities, he made his way to the outside world and finally located here. After the Franco-Prussian War of 1870 to 71, he was supposed to have returned to his native land where he once more satisfied his peculiar propensity for patriotic activity. By tearing down and burning, in company with other so-called communists, some of the most beautiful buildings in all Paris. In the spring of 1876, Los Angeles boasted of another French restaurant, a dining place called the Oriental and conducted by a Frenchman, C. Casson and a German, H. Schmidt. It was on Main Street opposite the Pico House and a bunch of do was made of the claim that everything was in European style and that it was the largest and most commodious restaurant south of San Francisco. Human nature, at least of the feminine type, was much the same 35 or 40 years ago as it was today. Such a conclusion at least, the reader may reach after scanning an Easter advertisement of Miss Hammond in 1876 Milliner who had a little shop at Seven North Spring Street and who then made the following announcement to those of her fashion-loving sex. Miss Hammond, who has just received a splendid lot of new styles of hats, bonnets, silks, ribbons, et cetera, invites the ladies of Los Angeles to call at her place of business before purchasing elsewhere. One glance into her show window will be enough to project any modern heart into a state of palpitation. Elsewhere, I have mentioned the saltworks near Redondo's site. Dr. H. Nadeau, who came here in 1876, had an office in the Grand Central Hotel and was soon elected coroner, was once called there and started with a constable and an undertaker, the latter carrying with him a rough-board coffin for the prospective subject. Losing their way, the party had to camp for the night on the plains, whereupon the coroner, opening the coffin, crawled in and slept like a brick. John Edward Hollenbeck, who in 1888 built the Hollenbeck Hotel, returned to Los Angeles in the spring of 1876. Having been here in 1874, when he made certain realty investments, secured land on the east side of the Los Angeles River, spent a large sum of money for improvements, and soon built a residence exceptionally fine for that time. And in this beautiful home, in close proximity to Boyle Avenue, he lived until his death on September 2nd, 1885, at the age of 56 years. Succeeding A.C. Billikey in 1903, John S. Mitchell, long a prominent Angelenio, is still controlling this busy hostelry. I've spoken of an Adobe on 10 acres of land I once purchased to secure water for my flock of sheep. After Hollenbeck had built his home on Boyle Heights, he was so disturbed by a company of Mexicans who congregated in this Adobe, that in sheer desperation, he asked me in 1882 to sell him the land. I did so, and we agreed upon $625 as a price for the entire piece. Hollenbeck then made another noteworthy investment. H.C. Wiley owned a lot, 120 feet by 165, on the southeast corner of Fort and Second Streets, where he lived in a small cottage. He had mortgaged this property for $6,000, but since under his contract, Wiley was not required to pay interest, the mortgagee tired of the loan. Hollenbeck bought the mortgage and made a further advance of $4,000 on the property. He finally foreclosed, but at the same time did the handsome thing when he gave Mrs. Wiley, a daughter of Andres Pico, a deed for the 40 feet on Fort Street, upon which the cottage stood. These 40 feet are almost directly opposite culture's dry goods store. So many ranchers had again and again unsuccessfully experimented with wheat in this vicinity that when I.N. Van Wise in 1876 joined Isaac Lanker Shim in renting lands from the company in which they were interested and in planting nearly every acre to that staple grain, failure and even ruin were predicted by the old settlers. Van Wise, however, selected and prepared his seed with care and the first season rewarded them with a great harvest, which they shipped to Liverpool. Thus was inaugurated the successful cultivation of wheat in Southern California on a large scale. In 1878, the depot of the Southern Pacific at the corner of Alameda and commercial streets have become too small for the company's growing business, compelling them to buy on San Fernando Street and Lanker Shim and his associates purchased the old structure from the company for the sum of $17,500. In there erected a flour mill, which they conducted until the ranch was sold a few years ago. One of the very interesting cases in the Los Angeles courts was that, which came before Judge H.K.S. O. Mulvaney on May 15th when Mrs. Eulalia Perez Guillen, 130 years old according to the records of the church at San Gabriel, claimed the right to exhibit herself at the Centennial Exposition in Philadelphia as a California curiosity. She was accompanied to court by a daughter, Mariana, and their counsel, F.P. Ramirez, but there was also present another daughter, Mrs. DeWight, who brought attorney Steven M. White to assist in opposing the visionary scheme. Mariana admitted that she had not the means to humor the old lady in her hobby while Mrs. DeWight objected that her mother was in her dotage and could not travel as far as Philadelphia. The judge granted the old lady liberty to live with either daughter but required of Mariana a bond of $500 as a guarantee that she would not take her mother out of the county. On May 17th William Workman was gathered to his fathers, later being buried near the Little Chapel at La Puente, side by side with John Rowland, his early comrade and lifelong friend. An early and popular educator here was Mrs. E. Bingo, who about 1870 had started her select school for young ladies and children, and who on June 5th had one of her commencements in the Spring Street Schoolhouse. At the beginning of the 80s, the Bingo School was at number 3 3rd Street. Mrs. Bingo died a number of years ago after having been for some years at the Holland Beck Home. Glowing descriptions of the centennial exposition first attracted the attention of Madame Helena Mojeska, the Polish lady eventually so famous, and the presence here of a small Polish colony finally induced her and her husband, Charles Bozanta Czlapowski, to make the dubious experiment of abandoning the stimulation of old world culture and committing themselves to rustic life near the B Ranch of J. E. Pleasants in Santiago Canyon. Heaps of cigarettes, books, and musical instruments were laid in to help pass the hours pleasantly, but disaster of one kind or another soon overtook the idealists, who found that roughing it in primeval California suggested a nightmare rather than a pleasant dream. Forced to take up some more lucrative profession, Madame Mojeska in July 1877 made her debut in San Francisco as Adrienne Le Corvier and was soon starring with Booth. This radical departure, however, did not take the gifted lady away for good. Her love for California led her to build near the site of her first encampment and in what they called the Forest of Arden, a charming country home to which she repaired when not before the footlights. Still later she lived near Newport. More than one public ovation was tendered Madame Mojeska in Los Angeles, the community looking upon her as their own. And I remember a reception to her at O.W. Childs's home when I had a better opportunity for noting her un-Austis-tacious and agreeable personality. Mojeska Avenue is a reminder of this artist's sojourn here. In June, W.W. Creighton started the evening Republican, but during the winter of 1878 to 79, the paper for lack of support ceased to be published. Andrew W. Ryan, a Kilkenny Irishman commonly called Andy, after footing it from Virginia City to Visalia, reached Los Angeles on horseback and found employment with banning as one of his drivers. From 1876 to 1879 he was county assessor, later associating himself with the Los Angeles Water Company until in 1902 the city came into control of the system. End of chapter 33. Chapter 34 of 60 Years in Southern California, 1853 to 1913 by Harris Newmark. This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Recording by Kay Hand. Chapter 34, The Southern Pacific, 1876. Before the completion of the San Fernando Tunnel, a journey east from Los Angeles by way of Sacramento was beset with inconveniences. The traveler was lucky if he obtained passage to San Fernando on other than a construction train, and 20 to 24 hours, often at night, was required for the trip of the telegraph stage lined creaking, swaying coach over the rough road leading to Caliente, the northern terminal, where the long stretch of the railroad north was reached. The stage lined and the Southern Pacific Railroad were operated quite independently and it was therefore not possible to buy a through ticket. For a time previously, passengers took the stage at San Fernando and bounced over the mountains to Bakersfield, the point farthest south on the railroad line. When the Southern Pacific was subsequently built to Langs station, the stages stopped there. And for quite a while, a stage started from each side of the mountain, the two conveyances meeting at the top and exchanging passengers. Once I made the journey north by stage to Tipton in Tulare County and from Tipton by rail to San Francisco, the coastline and the telegraph lined stage companies carried passengers part of the way. The coastline stage company coaches left Los Angeles every morning at five o'clock and proceeded via Pleasant Valley, San Buena Ventura, Santa Barbara, Guadalupe, San Luis Obispo and Paso de Robles Hot Springs. It connected at Soledad with the Southern Pacific Railroad bound for San Francisco by way of Salinas City, Gilroy and San Jose. And this line made a speciality of daylight travel, thus offering unusual inducements to tourists. There was no limit as to time and passengers were enabled to stop over at any point and to reserve seats in the stage coaches by giving some little notice in advance. In 1876, I visited New York City for medical attention and for the purpose of meeting my son Maurice upon his return from Paris. I left Los Angeles on the 29th of April by the telegraph stage line, traveling to San Francisco and then east by the Central Pacific Railroad. And I arrived in New York on the 8th of May. My son returned June 29th on the steamer Abyssinia and a few days later we started for home. While in Brooklyn on June 4th, I attended Plymouth Church and heard Henry Ward Beecher preach on serve thy master with a will.  Our itinerary brought us to the Centennial Exhibition in Philadelphia on the 4th of July and aside from the peculiar satisfaction at being present on historic ground upon that anniversary, I recall with pleasure many experiences and impressions new and interesting, notwithstanding the inconvenience caused by the great crowds. At the exhibition, which had a circumference of only three and a half miles, I saw California's small but very creditable display and I remember my astonishment at seeing a man seated before an apparatus, apparently in the act of printing letters. He was demonstrating an early typewriter and I dictated to my wife half a dozen lines, which he rapidly typed upon paper. Of the various nations, the Japanese and the Chinese attracted me the most. Machinery Hall with its 1200 machines all run by one huge coreless engine was as noisy as it was interesting. The New York Herald and the Times were printed there daily. In the art gallery, there was one marble figure so beautifully draped that a young lady passing by said, Father, why don't they remove that lace shawl from the statue? During the evening on the balconies of the Union League Club, we enjoyed a torchlight parade never to be forgotten. On our way west, we stopped at Salt Lake City and as we had been informed that Brigham Young would be at the opera house that evening, we attended the performance. I have forgotten the name of the play but Rose I-Tinge was the star. Brigham sat in his private box with two of his wives and as it was a very hot night in July, and the building was packed with people. His wives were both fanning him assiduously and otherwise contributing to his comfort. The following day, we called at his residence to see him expecting to renew an acquaintance ship established years before but to our regret he was ill and could not receive us. A few months later, he died. Leaving Salt Lake City early in August, we traveled by the Central Pacific to San Francisco where several days were very pleasantly spent with my brother and his family. And from there, we left for Los Angeles taking the Southern Pacific to its terminus at Langs Station. Proceeding over the mountain by stage, we arrived at what is now the south end of the long tunnel and there boarded the train for this city. Among others who went from Los Angeles to the Philadelphia Centennial was Ben C. Truman. He took with him specimens of choice California plants and wrote letters from various stations on the way to his paper, The Star. Governor and Mrs. Downey, whom I met in New York in June, were also at the exhibition. Ben Truman's visit recalls the enterprise of preparing a booklet for circulation at the exposition setting forth the advantages of Los Angeles and the fact that the star was the first to propose sending copies of the local newspapers to Philadelphia at the same time agreeing to contribute its share. In that connection, it also referred to a previous similar experiment endorsed by Truman in these words. This city has never been so prosperous as when the Chamber of Commerce sent 50 papers each week for one year of the Herald Express and Star to the leading hotels and libraries throughout the country. A movement inaugurated and carried out by Mr. MJ Newmark. Those few papers distributed where they would do the most good, filled our hotels and boarding houses and sent joy to the hearts of the real estate dealers. It's a most trifling thing to do and there's millions in it. Another interesting experiment in early advertising by means of the stereopticon was made in 1876 when the Los Angeles photographer Henry T. Payne exhibited at Philadelphia a fine selection of views designed to inform the spectator about Southern California and to attract him hither. Toward the end of May, Payne left for the East taking with him a first class stereopticon and nearly a thousand lantern slides of the old wet plate process, the views being the product of Payne's own skill and labor. For some time prior to 1876, the suitable observance here of the anniversary of the nation's independence had been frequently discussed and when James J. Ayers called a meeting of citizens in the county courthouse on the evening of April 29th and another on May 6th, it was decided to celebrate the 4th of July in a manner worthy of the occasion. Committees were appointed to arrange the details and when the eventful day arrived, the largest throngs in the city's history assembled to give event to their patriotism. The procession, led by Grand Marshal H. M. Mitchell, assisted by Marshal's Eugene Meyer, Francisco Guiardo, John F. Godfrey and Otto von Polenis, mounted on the best groomed steeds of the fashion stables, formed towards 10 o'clock and was half an hour in passing the corner of Temple, Spring and Main Streets. The Wood's Opera House Band, the Los Angeles Guard and the Los Angeles Rifleros assisted. The parade wended its torturous way from the Aliso Mills in the Northeast to the Roundhouse in the South. An interesting feature of the march was the division of Mexican War veterans. 42 of these battle-scarge soldiers, a number of whom had become prominent in civic life lined up, among them General George Stoneman, Captain William Turner, Dr. J. S. Griffin, Major Henry Hancock, S. C. Foster, John Schumacher, L. C. Goodwin, D. W. Alexander and A. W. Timms. Another feature worthy of note was a triumphal chariot of the French Benevolent Society, in which three young ladies represented, respectively, the goddesses of liberty, France, and America. Fire Engine Company number 38, Confidence Engine Company number two and the Hook and Latter Company formed another division followed by several societies and secret orders. In one float, 13 young ladies represented the 13 original colonies and in another, 25 damsels portrayed the rest of the states. There were also the 49ers, the Butchers, and the other tradesmen, while George and Martha Washington accompanied the Philadelphia Brewery. For this local celebration of the centennial, streets, public buildings, stores, and private residences were beautifully decorated, portraits of Washington being everywhere. Hellman-Hawson Company, S. C. Foy, the Los Angeles Social Club, and H. Newmark Inc. were among those who especially observed the day. There was a triple arch on Main Street with a center span 30 feet wide and 30 feet high and statues of Washington Grant and others. The railroad depots and trains were also fittingly adorned and at the residence and grounds of Concealer Agent Moran Hout. The stars and stripes with the French tricolor were displayed under the legend, friends since 100 years. The Pico House was perhaps the most elegantly adorned having a column, a flagstaff, and a liberty cap with the enthusiastic legends, 1776, 1876. Now for 1976. To the patrons of the Pico House, may you live 100 years. No North, no South, no East, no West. The Roundhouse Gardens having been reached, the literary and musical program began. The band played Hale, Columbia, and General Phineas Banning, the presiding officer introduced the Reverend T. T. Packard who delivered the opening prayer. Banning then made a short patriotic address. America was sung by several church choirs of the city, Professor Thomas A. Saxon read the Declaration of Independence, the choirs sang the red, white, and blue, and J.J. Ayers as poet of the occasion, read an original poem. Yankee Doodle came after that, and then James G. Eastman as orator of the day delivered the address, reviewing the civilization and wonders of every age, and tickling the hearer's vanity with prayer orations such as this. When the mournful Zephyrs passing the plane where Marathon once stood, shall find no mound to kiss. When the arch of Titus shall have been obliterated, the Colosseum crumbled into antique dust, the greatness of Athens degenerated into dim tradition, Alexander, Caesar, and Napoleon forgotten, the memories of independent tall shall still bloom in imperishable freshness. At the conclusion of the oration, Jacob A. Moran Hout, the venerable French representative, spoke very appropriately of the relation of France to America and our great revolutionary struggle, after which the reverend A. W. Edelman concluded the exercises by pronouncing the benediction. The celebration had a soul in it and no doubt compensated in patriotic sincerity for what it may have lacked in classical elegance. Incidental to this commemoration, the literary committee having in charge the exercises had named Don J.J. Warner, Judge Benjamin Hayes, and Dr. J. P. Whitney, a subcommittee to compile the most interesting data about the old town from the Spanish occupancy by the founding of the mission at San Gabriel, and on the 4th of July, or within less than two months after their appointment, the historians produced their report, to which I have already referred, a document known as and historical sketch of Los Angeles County, California. Which, in spite of the errors due to the short period allotted the editors, is still interesting and valuable, portraying as it does various characteristics of early life in the Southland and preserving to posterity many names and minor facts. In the summer of 1875, 1500 men began to dig their way into the San Fernando Mountains, and about the end of the first week in September, 1876, the long tunnel was completed. A bore 6,940 feet in length, beginning 27 miles from Los Angeles. During the course of construction, vast quantities of candles, generally the best, were employed to furnish light for the workmen, each new marking company supplying most of the illuminance. Some of the facts concerning the planning, building and attendant celebration of this now famous tunnel, should be peculiarly interesting to the Angelenio of today, as also to his descendants, for not only do they possess intrinsic historical importance, but they exemplify as well, both the comparative insignificance of Los Angeles at the time when this great engineering feat was so successfully undertaken, and the occasional futility of human prophecies, even when such prophecies are voiced by those most fitted at the time to deliver them. I've already mentioned the interview which Governor Downey and I had with Collis P. Huntington in San Francisco when we presented the arguments of Los Angeles for the extension of the Southern Pacific Railroad to this point. The greatest difficulty from an engineering standpoint was the boring and finishing of the San Fernando Tunnel, and then the small town of Los Angeles was compelled to pass through much discouragement before she became the southern terminus of the road, a selection of the most vital importance to her future prosperity and growth. In the first place, a Mr. Rice, whose office was in Temple Block, represented the railroad company in telling the citizens of Los Angeles that if they did not appropriate toward the undertaking $250,000, then an enormous sum of money, Los Angeles would be left out of the line of travel and the railroad would be built so as to pass several miles inland, compelling our city to make a choice between putting in a branch to connect with the main line or resigning any claim she might have to become a railroad center. In fact, this is precisely what occurred in the case of Vesalia and a number of other towns, that is to say, they are today the termini of railroad feeders instead of a part of the main line as they perhaps might have been. When this threat or warning was delivered, an agitation immediately set in, both to collect the money that the company demanded and to influence its management to include Los Angeles on the main line. Judge R. M. Whitney was one of the prominent figures in the local campaign. The Chamber of Commerce, through its president, Solomon Lazard, also buckled on its armor in behalf of Los Angeles and entered the lists. Notably, it sent a telegram to the United States Senate. The railroad, as is well known, having received land grants of inestimable value from Congress and being considered, therefore, susceptible to influence. And this telegram was penned with such classical eloquence that it poured $75 into the coffers of the telegraph company. The net result of the campaign was the decision of the railroad company to include Los Angeles among the favored stations. The politics of the situation, having thus been satisfactorily settled, the engineering problems began to cast their shadows. General Stoneman stated that the tunnel bore could not be affected, an opinion which was, by no means, uncommon at the time. Others again said that people would never be induced to travel through so long a tunnel. Still, another set of pessimists stated that the winter rains would cause it to cave in, to which senators Stanford leconically replied that it was too damned dry in Southern California for any such catastrophe. This railroad and the tunnel, however, were fortunately to become one of those happy instances in which the proposals of man and the disposals of the Lord are identical. For in course of time, both found their completion under the able direction of railroad genius, assisted in no small way by the gangs of thousands of orientals who did the hard road work. As in the case with practically every Southern California enterprise, the finishing of this great undertaking was accompanied by a rather elaborate celebration, a delegation of San Francisco citizens, one of whom was my brother, met at Newhall, a delegation from Los Angeles, including S. Lazard, footnote, died January 13th, 1915, in the 90th year of his age, and footnote. And I thus have the pleasant recollection of having been among the very first who went through the tunnel on that initial trip. Having arrived at Newhall, the citizens of the Northern and Southern cities symbolized by fraternal handshaking, the completion of this new and strongest bond between them. Amidst general rejoicing and with thousands of Chinaman lined up on either side of the track, each at full attention and all presenting their shovels, General D.D. Colton drove the Golden Spike, which bound the rails from the north with the rails from the south. After considerable speech making and celebrating, most of the company boarded the train for Los Angeles, where the jollification was concluded with a banquet, a ball, illuminations, and other festivities. Possibly due to the great increase in Chinese brought to Southern California through railroad work, repeated demonstrations against the Mongolians were made here at meetings during the summer. Shortly after the completion of the Southern Pacific Railroad, the people of Los Angeles became very much dissatisfied with the company's method of handling their business, and especially with the arbitrary rulings of JC Stubbs in making freight rates. On one occasion, for example, a shipper approached Stubbs and asked for a rate on a car load of potatoes from San Francisco to Tucson. Stubbs asked him how much he expected to pay for the potatoes and what he would get for them, and having obtained this information, he allowed the shipper a small profit and took the balance for freight. This dissatisfaction on the part of an enterprising community, accustomed to some liberality, found in time such an open expression that Charles F. Crocker, one of the original promoters of the Central, and one of the owners of the Southern Pacific, who had occasionally visited Los Angeles, came down to confer with the city council at a public meeting. Crocker, as president of the Central Pacific Railroad Company, was a very important man, and I felt at the time that he was most discreetly received by those with whom he had come to discuss the situation. The meeting, which I attended, was held in the small council room, and I well remember the oppressive closeness. The place was indeed packed. People were smoking and chewing tobacco, and the reader may perhaps imagine the extreme condition of both the atmosphere and the floor. This, however, was not all, when one of the councilmen, out of regard, I suppose, for the railroad president's other engagements, asked that Mr. Crocker be permitted to address the city fathers. J. S. Thompson, a revolutionary councilman, stood up and declared that the San Francisco magnet would be heard when his time came, and not before. How this lack of consideration impressed the visitor may be seen from the conclusion of my story. After a while, Crocker was allowed to speak, and in the course of his remarks, he stated that the Southern Pacific Railroad Company had invested a great amount of money, and that it was necessary to realize proper interest on their expenditure. Thereupon, Isaac W. Lorde, one of the spectators after whom Lorde'sburg was named, arose and begged to tell a little story. An ambitious individual, he said, who had once built a hotel on the desert at a cost of $150,000, was without guest until, one day, a lone traveler rode across the burning sands and put up for the night at the hostelry. Next morning, the stranger was handed a bill for $75, and, in pawn inquiring why so much had been charged, the proprietor explained that he had spent $150,000 in building the hotel, that the stranger was, thus far, the first and only guest, and that, therefore, he must pay his part of the interest on the investment. The story, to Mr. Crocker's discomforture, brought a loud laugh, and it was then, before the laughter had died out, that the famous railroad man, resuming the debate, made his memorable threat. If this be the spirit in which Los Angeles proposes to deal with the railroad upon which the town's very vitality must depend, I will make grass to grow in the streets of your city. And, considering the fate that has been falling on more than one community, which coldly regarded the proposals of these same California railroads, Crocker's warning was not without significance. The Crocker incident, having left matters in a worse state than before, Colonel Eldridge E. Hewitt, agent for the Southern Pacific, brought Governor Stanford to my office and introduced him. Stanford stated that his road would soon be in operation and express the hope that H. Newmarking Company would patronize it. I told Stanford that our relations with the steamship company had always been very pleasant, but that we would be very glad to give his line a share of our business, if rates were made satisfactory. At the same time, the Southern Pacific Railroad Company, having secured control of the Los Angeles and San Pedro Railroad, issued circulars announcing that steamer freight would henceforth be classified. As this was a violent departure from established precedents, it foreshadowed trouble and sure enough, rates moved upward from eight to as high as $30 a ton, according to classification. H. Newmarking Company and Helman-Hawson Company, who were the heaviest shippers in Los Angeles, together with a number of other merchants, decided to charter a steamer or sailing vessel. James McFadden of Santa Anna owned the Tramp Steamboat Newport, which plied between San Francisco and Newport Landing, in an irregular lumber trade. And this, after some negotiations, we engaged for three years on the basis of $3 per ton. Having made this contract, we entered valiantly into the contest. And in order suitably to impress the Southern Pacific Railroad Company with our importance, we loaded the vessel on her initial trip to the gun whales. Now cargo, on arriving at Wilmington at that time, used to be loaded into cars, brought to Los Angeles, and left in the freight shed until we removed it at our convenience. But when the Newport arrived, the vessel was unloaded and the merchandise put into the warehouse at Wilmington, where it was held several days before it was reshipped. On its arrival in Los Angeles, the Railroad Company gave notice that removal must be affected within 24 hours, or demerage would be charged. And since, with the small facilities in those days at our command, so prompted withdrawal of an entire cargo as a physical impossibility, our expenses were straightway heavily increased. Subsequent to this first shipment, we adopted a more conservative policy, in spite of which our troubles were to multiply. The Southern Pacific Railroad Company named a rate of $3 a ton in less than carload lots between San Francisco and way stations. And this induced many of our country customers to trade in that city. At the same time, the company carried many lines between San Francisco and Los Angeles free of charge, potatoes and other heavy items being favored. The mask was now discarded and it became evident that we were engaged in a life and death struggle. Had there been a united front, the moral effect might have sustained us in the unequal contest, but unfortunately, H. Newmark and Company were abandoned by every shipper in Los Angeles except Hellman-Hawson Company and we soon found that fighting railroad companies recalled the adage, the game's not worth the candle. At the end of 10 months of sacrifices, we invoked the assistance of my former partner and friend, Phineas Banning, who was then associated with the Southern Pacific and he visited the officials in San Francisco in our behalf. Stanford told him that the railroad company, rather than make a single concession, would lose a million dollars in the conflict. But Banning finally induced the company to buy the new port, which brought to a close the first fight in Los Angeles against a railroad. In the winter of 1876 to 77, a drought almost destroyed the sheep industry in Southern California. As a last resort, the ranchers, seeing the exhaustive condition of their ranges, started to drive their sheep to Arizona, New Mexico or Utah, but most of them fell by the way. Again, we had the coincidence of drought and a fatal epidemic of smallpox, not only leaving death in its wake, but incidentally damaging business a good deal. Mrs. Juan LaFranco was one of those who died. Mr. and Mrs. Solomon Lazard lost a son and a grocer by the name of Henry Nidekin, who had a little frame store where the Angelus Hotel now stands, as well as many others succumbed. End of chapter 34.