CHAPTER XVIII. In 1858 my brother, to whom the greater opportunities of San Francisco had long appealed, decided upon a step that was to effect considerably my own modest affairs. This was to remove permanently to the north with my sister-in-law, and in the Los Angeles star of January 22, 1859 there appeared the following. Mr. Joseph P. Newmark has established a commission house in San Francisco with a branch in this city. From his experience in business Mr. Newmark will be a most desirable agent for the sale of our domestic produce in the San Francisco market, and we have no doubt will obtain the confidence of our merchants and shippers. This move of my brothers was made, as a matter of fact, at a time when Los Angeles, in one or two respects at least, seemed promising. On September 30 the building commenced by John Temple in the preceding February on the site of the present Bullard Block was finished. Most of the upper floor was devoted to a theater, and I am inclined to think that the balance of the building was leased to the city, the courtroom being next to the theater, and the ground floor being used as a market. To the latter move there was considerable opposition affecting, as the expenditures did, taxes in the public treasury, and one newspaper after a spirited attack on the Black Republicans concluded its editorial with this patriotic appeal. Citizens, attend to your interests, guard your pocketbooks. This building is one of the properties to which I refer as sold by Hinchman, having been bought by Dr. J. S. Griffin and B. D. Wilson, who resold it in time to the county. A striking feature of this market building was the town clock, whose bell was pronounced fine-toned and sonorous. The clock and bell, however, were destined to share the fate of the rest of the structure, which, all in all, was not very well constructed. At last the heavy rains of the early sixties played havoc with the tower, and toward the end of 1861 the clock had set such a pace for itself, regardless of the rest of the universe, that the newspapers were full of facetious jibes concerning the once serviceable timepiece, and many were the queries as to whether something could not be done to roof the mechanism. The clock, however, remained uncovered until Bullard demolished the building to make room for the present structure. Elsewhere, I have referred to the attempt, shortly after I arrived here, or during the session of the legislature of 1854-55, to divide California into two states, the proposition be it added of a San Bernardino county representative. A committee of thirteen from different sections of the Commonwealth later substituted a bill providing for three states, Shasta in the north, California at the middle, Colorado in the south, but nothing evolving as a result of the effort, our assemblyman, Andres Pico, in 1859, fathered a measure for the segregation of the southern counties under the name of Colorado, when this bill passed both houses and was signed by the governor. It had to be submitted to the people, however, at the election in September 1859, and although nearly 2,500 ballots were cast in favor of the division, as against 800 in the negative, the movement was afterwards stifled in Washington. Damien Marches-Sull and Victor Bodry, having enthusiastically organized the Santa Anita Mining Company in 1858, and H. Alexander, agent at Los Angeles for Wells Fargo and Company, in 1859, announced that the latter had provided scales for weighing gold dust and were prepared to transact a general exchange business. This was the same firm that had come through the crisis with unimpaired credit when Adams and Company and many others went to the wall in the great financial crash of 1855. I have mentioned the Mormon colony at San Bernardino and its connection as an offshoot with a great Mormon city, Salt Lake. Now I may add that each winter, for fifteen or twenty years, or until railroad connection was established, a lively and growing trade was carried on between Los Angeles and Utah. This was because the Mormons had no open road toward the outside world except in the direction of Southern California. Over snow covered both the Rockies and the Sierra Nevadas and closed every other highway and trail. A number of Mormon wagon trains, therefore, went back and forth every winter over the 700 miles or more of fairly level open roadways between Salt Lake and Los Angeles, taking back not only goods bought here but much that was shipped from San Francisco to Salt Lake via San Pedro. I remember that in February 1859 these Mormon wagons arrived by the overland route almost daily. The third week in February witnessed one of the most interesting gatherings of rancheros characteristic of Southern California life I have ever seen. It was a typical rodeo lasting two or three days for the separating and regrouping of cattle and horses, and took place at the residence of William Workman at La Puente Rancho. Strictly speaking the rodeo continued but two days or less, for in as much as the cattle to be sorted and branded had to be deprived for the time being of their customary nourishment, the work was necessarily one of despatch. Under the direction of a judge of the plains, on this occasion the polished Cavalier Don Felipe Lugo, they were examined, parted and branded, or rebranded, with hot irons impressing a mark, generally a letter or odd monogram, duly registered at the courthouse, and protected by the county recorder's certificate.  And as often as most of those present had probably seen the feet performed, great was their enthusiasm when each vaquero brought down his victim. Among the guests were most of the rancheros of wealth and note, together with their attendants, all of whom made up a company ready to enjoy the unlimited hospitality for which the workmen were so renowned. Aside from the business in hand of disposing of such an enormous number of mixed-up cattle in so short a time, what made the occasion one of keen delight was the remarkable, almost astounding ability of the horsemen in controlling his animal. For lassoing cattle was not his only forte. The vaquero of early days was a clever rider and handler of horses, particularly the bronco, so often erroneously spelled B-R-O-N-C-H-O, sometimes a Mustang, sometimes an Indian pony. Out of a drove that had never been saddled, he would lasso one, attach a halter to his neck, and blindfold him by means of a strap some two or three inches in width, fastened to the halter, after which he would suddenly mount the bronco and remove the blind when the horse, unaccustomed to discipline or restraint, would buck and kick for over a quarter of a mile and then stop only because of exhaustion. With seldom a mishap, however, the vaquero almost invariably broke the Mustang to the saddle within three or four days. This little Mexican horse, while perhaps not so graceful as his American brother, was noted for endurance, and he could lope from morning till night if necessary without evidence of serious fatigue. Speaking of this dexterity, I may add that now and then the early Californian vaquero gave a good exhibition of his prowess in the town itself. Runaways, due in part to the absence of hitching posts but frequently to carelessness, occurred daily. And sometimes a clever horseman, who happened to be near, would pursue, overtake, and lasso the frightened steed before serious harm had been done. Among the professional classes, J. Lancaster Brent was always popular, but never more welcomed than on his return from Washington on February 26, 1859, when he brought the United States patent to the Dominguez Rancho, dated December 18, 1858, and the first document of land to conveyance from the American government to reach California. In mercantile circles Adolf Portugal became somewhat prominent, conducting a flourishing business here for a number of years after opening in 1854, and accumulating, before 1865, about $75,000. With this money he then left Los Angeles and went to Europe, where he made an extremely unprofitable investment. He returned to Los Angeles and again engaged in mercantile pursuits, but he was never able to recover and died a pauper. Corbett, who at one time controlled with Dibley, great ranch areas near Santa Barbara, and in 1859 was in partnership with Barker, owned the Santa Anita Rancho, which he later sold to William Wolfskill. From Los Angeles Corbett went to Oregon, where he became, I think, a leading banker. Louis Messmer arrived here in 1858, then went to Fraser River, and there, in eight months, he made $20,000 by baking for the Hudson Bay Company's troops. A year later he was back in Los Angeles, and on Main Street, somewhere near Rakhina, he started a bakery. In time he controlled the local bread trade, supplying, among others, the government troops here. In 1864 Messmer bought out the United States Hotel, previously run by Weber and Haas, and finally purchased from Don Juan and Padilla, the land on which the building stood. This property, costing $3,000, extended 140 feet on Main Street and ran through to Los Angeles, on which street it had a frontage of about 60 feet. Messmer's son Joseph is still living and is active in civic affairs. William Nordholt, a 49er, was also a resident of Los Angeles for some time. He was a carpenter and worked in partnership with Jim Barton, and when Barton was elected sheriff, Nordholt continued in business for himself. At length, in 1859 he opened a grocery store on the northwest corner of Los Angeles and First Streets, which he conducted for many years. Even in 1853, when I first knew him, Nordholt had made a good start, and he soon accumulated considerable real estate on First Street, extending from Los Angeles to Main. He shared his possessions with his Spanish wife, who attended his grocery, but after his death, in perhaps the late 70s, his children wasted their patch for money. Notwithstanding the opening of other hotels, the Bella Union continued throughout the 50s to be the representative headquarters of its kind in Los Angeles and for a wide area around. On April 19, 1856, Flaschner and Hamel took hold of the establishment, and a couple of years after that, Dr. J. B. Winston, who had local hotel experience, joined Flaschner and together they made improvements, adding the second story, which took five or six months to complete. This step forward in the hostelry was duly celebrated on April 14, 1859, at a dinner, the new dining room being advertised far and wide as one of the finest in all California. Shortly after this, however, Marcus Flaschner, who owned some thirty-five acres at the corner of Maine and Washington Streets where he managed either a vineyard or an orange orchard, but a violent death. He used to travel to and from his property in a buggy. In one day, June 29, 1859, his horse ran away, throwing him out and killing him. In 1860, John King, Flaschner's brother-in-law, entered the management of the Bella Union, and by 1861 Dr. Winston had sole control. Strolling again in imagination into the old Bella Union of this time, I am reminded of a novel method then employed to call the guests to their meals. When I first came to Los Angeles, the hotel waiter rang a large bell to announce that all was ready. But about the spring of 1859, the fact that another meal had been concocted was signalized by the blowing of a shrill steam whistle placed on the hotel's roof. This brought together both the regulars and transients, everyone scurrying to be first at the dining room door. About the middle of April, Wells Fargo and company's writer made a fast run between San Pedro and Los Angeles, bringing all the mail matter from the vessels and covering the more than twenty-seven miles of the old roundabout route in less than an hour. The Protestant Church has been represented in Los Angeles since the first service in Mayor Nichols' home and the missionary work of Adam Bland. But it was not until May 4, 1859 that any attempt was made to erect an edifice for the Protestants in the community. Then a committee, including Isaac S. K. O'Gear, A. J. King, Columbus Sims, Thomas Foster, William H. Shore, N. A. Potter, J. R. Gitchell, and Henry D. Barrows began to collect funds. Reverend William E. Boardman and Episcopalian was invited to take charge, but subscriptions coming in slowly, he conducted services, first in one of the school buildings and then in the courthouse until 1862 when he left. Despite its growing communications with San Francisco, Los Angeles for years was largely dependent upon sale and steamboat service, and each year the need of a better highway to the north for stages became more and more apparent. Finally in May 1859, General Ezra Drown was sent as a commissioner to Santa Barbara to discuss the construction of a road to that city, and on his return he declared the project quite practicable. The supervisors had agreed to devote a certain sum of money and the Santa Barbarinos, on their part, were to vote on the proposition of appropriating $15,000 for the work. Evidently the citizens voted favorably for in July of the following year, James Thompson of Los Angeles contracted for making the new road through Santa Barbara County from the Los Angeles to the San Luis Obispo lines passed through Ventura, or San Buena Ventura, as it was then more poetically called. Santa Barbara and out by the Gaviota Pass, all in all, a distance of about 125 miles. Some five or six months were required to finish the rough work and over $30,000 was expended for that alone. Winfield Scott Hancock, whom I came to know well and who had been here before, arrived in Los Angeles in May 1859 to establish a depot for the quarter masters department, which he finally located at Wilmington, naming it Drum Barracks after adigent general Richard Coulter Drum for several years at the head of the department of the West. Hancock himself was quarter master and had an office in a brick building on Main Street near Third, and he was in charge of all government property here and at Yuma, Arizona Territory, then a military post. He thus both bought and sold, advertising at one time, for example, a call for 300 or 400,000 pounds of barley and again offering for sale on behalf of poor Uncle Sam, the important item of a lone, braying mule. Hancock invested liberally in California projects and became interested with others in the bare Valley mines and at length had the good luck to strike a rich and paying vein of gold accords. Bodrie and March Assault were among the first handlers of ice in Los Angeles, having an ice house in 1859, where in the springtime they stored the frozen product taken from the mountain lakes 50 miles away. The ice was cut into cubes of about 100 pounds each, packed down the canyons by a train of 30 to 40 mules and then brought in wagons to Los Angeles. By September 1860, wagon loads of San Bernardino ice, or perhaps one would better say compact snow, were hawked about town and bought up by saloon keepers and others, having been transported in the way I've just described, a good 75 miles. Later, ice was shipped here from San Francisco and soon after it reached town, the saloons displayed signs soliciting orders. Considering the present popularity of the Silver Dollar along the entire Western coast, it may be interesting to recall the stamping of these coins for the first time in California at the San Francisco Mint. This was in the spring of 1859, soon after which they began to appear in Los Angeles. A few years later in 1863 and for 10 or 15 years thereafter, Silver Half Dimes, coined in San Francisco, were to be seen here occasionally, but they were never popular. That larger silver piece, the dime was more common, although for a while it also had little purchasing power. As late as the early 70s, it was not welcome and many a time I have seen dimes thrown into the street as if they were worthless. This prejudice against the smaller Silver Coins was much the same as the feeling which even today obtains with many people on the coast against the copper scent. When the nickel in the 80s came into use, the old Californian tradition as the coinage began to disappear and this opened the way for the introduction of the one cent piece which is more and more coming into popular favor. In the year 1859, the Hellman Brothers, Isaiah's W and Herman W, arrived here in a sailing vessel with Captain Morton. I.W. Hellman took a clerkship with his cousin, I.M. Hellman, who had arrived in 1854 and was establishing in the stationery line in Melis's Row, while H.W. Hellman went to work in June 1859 for Phineas Banning at Wilmington. I.W. Hellman immediately showed much ability and greatly improved his cousin's business. By 1865, he was in trade for himself, selling dry goods at the corner of main and commercial streets as the successor to aid Portugal. While H.W. Hellman, father of Marco H. Hellman, the banker and father-in-law of the public-spirited citizen, Louis M. Cole, became my competitor, as will be shown later in the wholesale grocery business. John Philbin and Irishman arrived here penniless late in the 50s, but with my assistant started a small store at Fort Tejon, then a military post necessary for the preservation of order on the Indian Reservation. And there, during the short space of 18 months, he accumulated $20,000. Illness compelled him to leave and I bought his business and a property. After completing this purchase, I engaged a clerk in San Francisco to manage the new branch. As John Philbin had been very popular, the new clerk also called himself John and soon enjoyed equal favor. It was only when Bob Wilson came into town one day from the fort and told me, that chap John is gambling your whole damned business away. He plays seven up at $20 a game and went out of cash, puts up blocks of merchandise, that I investigated and discharged him, sending Kasper Kohn, who had recently arrived from Europe to take his place. It was in 1859 or a year before Abraham Lincoln was elected president that I bought out Philbin and at the breaking out of the war, the troops were withdrawn from Fort Tejon, thus ending my activity there as a merchant. We disposed of the stock as best we could, but the building, which had cost $3,000, brought at forced sale just 50. Fort Tejon, established about 1854, I may add, after it attained some fame as the only military post in Southern California where snow ever fell, and also as the scene of the earthquake phenomena I have described, was abandoned altogether as a military station on September 11th, 1864. Philbin removed to Los Angeles, where he invested in some 50 acres of vineyard along San Pedro Street, extending as far south as the present Tepico, and I still have a clear impression of the typical old adobe there, so badly damaged by the reigns of 1890. Caspar remained in my employ until he set up in business at Red Bluff, Tahama County, where he continued until January 1866. In more recent years, he has come to occupy an enviable position as a successful financier. Somewhat less than six years after my arrival, or to be accurate, on the 15th day of August, 1859, about the time of my mother's death at Lebeau, and satisfying one of my most ardent ambitions, I entered the family of Uncle Sam, carrying from the district court here a red sealed document to me of great importance, my newly acquired citizenship being attested by Charles R. Johnson Clerk and John O. Wheeler Deputy. On September 3rd, the Los Angeles Star made the following announcement and salutation. Called to the bar, at the present term of the district court for the first judicial district, Mr. M. J. Newmark was called to the bar. We congratulate Mr. Newmark on his success and wish him a brilliant career in his profession. This kindly reference was to my brother-in-law, who had read law in the office of E. J. C. Cuen, then on Main Street opposite the Bella Union, and had there, in the preceding January, when already 11 attorneys were practicing there, hung out in his shingle as Notary Public and Convancer, an office to which he was reappointed by the governor in 1860, soon after he had been made commissioner for the state of Missouri to reside in Los Angeles. About that same time, he began to take a lively interest in politics, being elected on October 13th, 1860, a delicate to the Democratic County Convention. A. J. King was also admitted to the bar toward the end of that year. We who have such praise for the rapid growth of the population in Los Angeles must not forget the faithful midwives of early days, when there was not the least indication that there would ever be a lying-in hospital here. First, one naturally recalls old Mrs. Simmons, the Sarah Gamp of the 50s, while her professional sister of the 60s was Lydia Rebek, whose name also will be pleasantly spoken by old-timers. A brother of Mrs. Rebek was James H. Whitworth, a rancher, who came to Los Angeles County in 1857. Residents of Los Angeles today have but a faint idea, I suppose, of what exertion we cheerfully submitted to 40 or 50 years ago in order to participate in a little pleasure. This was shown at an outing in 1859 on and by the sea, made possible through the courtesy of my hospitable friend Phineas Banning, details of which illustrate the social conditions then prevailing here. Banning had invited 50 or 60 ladies and gentlemen to accompany him to Catalina, and at about half past five o'clock on a June morning, the guests arrive at Banning's residence where they partook of refreshments. Then they started in decorated stages for Nusam Pedro, where the host, who, by the way, was a man of most genial temperament, fond of a joke, and sure to infuse others with his good heartedness, regaled his friends with a hearty breakfast, not forgetting anything likely to both warm and cheer. After ample justice had been done to this feature, the picnicters boarded Banning's little steamer comet and made for the outer harbor. There they were transferred to the United States Coast Survey Ship Active, which steamed away so spiritedly that in two hours the passengers were off Catalina, nothing meanwhile having been left undone to promote the comfort of everyone aboard the vessel. During this time, Captain Older and his officers, resplendent in their naval uniforms, had a reception, and unwilling that the merry-makers should be exposed without provisions to the wilds of the less trodden island, they set before them a substantial ship's dinner. Once ashore, the visitors strolled along the beach and across that part of the island, then most familiar, and at four o'clock the members of the party were again walking the decks of the government vessel. Steaming back slowly, San Pedro was reached after sundown and, having again been bundled into the stages, the excursionists were back in Los Angeles about 10 o'clock. I have said that most of the early political meetings took place at the residence of Don Ignacio de Valle. I recall, however, a mass meeting at Santa Barbeque in August 1859 in a grove at El Monte owned by innkeeper Thompson. Benches were provided for the ladies, prompting the editor of the star to observe with characteristic gallantry, that the seats were fully occupied by an array of beauties such as no other portion of the state ever witnessed. On September 11th, Iberhard and Cole opened the Lafayette Hotel on Main Street, on the site opposite the Bella Union, where once had stood the residence of Don Eluyo de Celiz. Particular inducements to families desiring quiet and the attraction of a table supplied with choicest vions and delicacies of the season were duly advertised. But the proprietors met with only a moderate response. On January 1st, 1862, Iberhard withdrew and Frederick W. Cole took into partnership Henry Dockweiler, father of two of our very prominent young men, J. H. Dockweiler, the civil engineer, and an 1889 city surveyor, and Isidore B. Dockweiler, the attorney, and Chris Fleur. In two years, Dockweiler had withdrawn, leaving Fleur as sole proprietor, and he continued as such until in the 70s, he took Charles Gerson in partnership with him. It is my recollection, in fact, that Fleur was associated with this hotel in one capacity or another until its name was changed, first to the Cosmopolitan and then to the St. Elmo. Various influences contributed to causing radical social changes, particularly throughout the county. When Dr. John S. Griffin and other pioneers came here, they were astonished at the hospitality of the ranch owners who provided for them, however numerous, shelter, food, and even fresh saddle horses. And this bounteous provision for the Wayfarer continued until the migrating population had so increased as to become something of a burden and economic conditions put a break on unlimited entertainment. Then a slight reaction set in and by the 60s, a movement to demand some compensation for such service began to make itself felt. In 1859, Don Vicente de la Osa advertised that he would afford accommodation for travelers by way of his ranch, El Encino, but that to protect himself, he must consider it an essential part of the arrangement that visitors should act on the good old rule and pay as one goes. In 1859, C. H. Klossen, a native of Germany, opened a cigar factory in the Signorette building on Main Street, North of Arcadia. And believing that tobacco could be successfully grown in Los Angeles County, he sent to Cuba for some seed and was soon making cigars from the local product. I fancy that the plants degenerated because although others experimented with Los Angeles tobacco, the growing of the leaf here was abandoned after a few years. H. Newmark and Company handled much tobacco for sheepwash and so came to buy the last Southern California crop. When I speak of sheepwash, I refer to a solution made by steeping tobacco in water and used to cure a skin disease known as scab. It was always applied after shearing for then wool could not be affected and the process was easier. Talking of tobacco, I may say that the commercial cigarette now for sale everywhere was not then to be seen. People rolled their own cigarettes, generally using brown paper, but sometimes the white, which came in reams of sheets about six by 10 inches in size. Which came in reams of sheets about six by 10 inches in size. Kentucky Leaf was most in vogue and the first brand of granulated tobacco that I remember was known as Sultana. Clay pipes then packed in barrels were used a good deal more than now and briar pipes much less. There was no duty on imported cigars and their consequent cheapness brought them into general consumptions. There was no duty on imported cigars and their consequent cheapness brought them into general consumption. Practically all of the native female population smoked cigarettes for it was a custom of the country, but the American ladies did not indulge. While spending an enjoyable hour at the county museum recently, I noticed a cigarette case of finely woven matting that had once belonged to Antonio Maria Lugo and a bundle of cigarettes rolled up like so many matches by Andres Pico.  Besides the use of tobacco in cigar and cigarette form and for pipes, there was much consumption of the weed by chewers. Peach brand, a black plug saturated with molasses and packed in caddies, a term more commonly applied to little boxes for tea, was the favorite chewing tobacco 50 years or more ago. It would hardly be an exaggeration to say that nine out of 10 Americans in Los Angeles indulged in this habit, some of whom certainly exposed us to the criticism of Charles Dickens and others who found so much fault with our manners. The pernicious activity of rough or troublesome characters brings to recollection an aged Indian named Polonia, whom pioneers will easily recollect as having been bereft of his sight by his own people because of his unnatural ferocity. He was six foot four inches in height and had once been endowed with great physical strength. He was clad for the most part in a tattered blanket so that his mere appearance was sufficient to impress if not to intimidate the observer. Only recently, in fact, Mrs. Solomon Lazard told me that to her and her girl playmates, Polonia and his fierce countenance were the terror of their lives. He may thus have deserved to forfeit his life for many crimes, but the idea of cutting a man's eyes out for any offense, whatever, no matter how great, is revolting in the extreme. The year I arrived and for some time thereafter, Polonia slept by night in the corridor of Don Manuel Rakina's house. With the aid of only a very long stick, this blind Indian was able to find his way all over the town. Sometime in 1859, Daniel Sexton, a veteran of the battles of San Bartolo and the Mesa, became possessed of the idea that gold was secreted in large sacks near the ruins of San Juan Capistrano. And, getting permission, he burrowed so far beneath the house of a citizen that the latter, fearing his whole home was likely to cave in, frantically begged the gold digger to desist. Sexton, in fact, came near digging his own grave instead of another's and was, for a while, the good-natured butt of many a pun. Jacob A. Moranhout, a native of Antwerp, Belgium, who had been French consul for a couple of years at Monterey in the later days of the Mexican regime, removed to Los Angeles on October 29th, 1859, on which occasion the consular flag of France was raised at his residence in this city. As early as January 13th, 1835, President Andrew Jackson had appointed Moranhout, U.S. consul to the Othite and the rest of the Society Islands. The original consular document, with its quaint spelling and signed by the vigorous pen of that president, existing today in a collection owned by Dr. E. M. Clinton of Los Angeles. And the Belgian had thus so profited by experience in promoting trade and amicable relations between foreign nations that he was prepared to make himself persona grata here. Salvos of cannon were fired while the French citizens, accompanied by a band, formed in procession in March to the plaza. In the afternoon, Don Louis Saint-Savain, in honor of the event, set a groaning and luxurious table for a goodly company at his hospitable residence. Their patriotic toasts were gracefully proposed and as gracefully responded to. The festivities continued into the small hours of the morning, after which consul Moranhout was declared a duly initiated Angelenio. Surrounded by most of his family, Don Juan Bandini, a distinguished Southern Californian and a worthy member of one of the finest Spanish families here, after a long and painful illness, died at the home of his daughter and son-in-law, Donia Arcadia and Don Abel Stearns in Los Angeles on November 4th, 1859. Don Juan had come to California far back in the early 20s, and to Los Angeles so soon thereafter that he was a familiar and welcome figure here many years before I arrived. It is natural that I should look back with pleasure and satisfaction to my association with a gentleman so typically Californian, warm-hearted, genial and social in the extreme, and one who dispensed so large and generous a hospitality. He came with his father, who eventually died here and was buried at the old San Gabriel mission and at one time possessed the Jarupa Rancho, where he lived. Don Juan was a lawyer by profession and had written the best part of a history of early California, the manuscript of which went to the State University. The passing lips of Bandini in sunlight and in shadow, recorded by Dana in his classic Two Years Before the Mask, adds to the fame already enjoyed by this native Californian. Himself of a good-sized family, Don Juan married twice. His first wife, courted in 1823, was Dolores, daughter of Captain Jose Estudillo, a comandante at Monterey, and of that union were born Donia Arcadia, first the wife of Abel Stearns and later of Colonel RS Baker. Donia Isadora, who married Lieutenant Cave J. Coutts, a cousin of General Grant. Donia Josefa, later the wife of Pedro C. Carrillo, father of J. J. Carrillo, formerly Marshall here and now Justice of the Peace at Santa Monica. And the sons, Jose Maria Bandini and Juanito Bandini. Don Juan's second wife was Refugio, a daughter of Santiago Arguello and a granddaughter of the governor who made the first grants of land to Rancheros of Los Angeles. She it was who nursed the wounded Kearney and who became a friend of Lieutenant William T. Sherman, once a guest in her home. And she was also the mother of Donia Dolores, later the wife of Charles R. Johnson and of Donia Margarita, whom Dr. James B. Winston married after his rollicking bachelor days. By Bandini's second marriage, there were three sons, Juan de la Cruz Bandini, Alfredo Bandini and Arturo Bandini. The financial depression of 1859 affected the temperament of citizens so much that little or no attention was paid to holidays with the one exception perhaps of the Bella Union's poorly patronized Christmas dinner. And during 1860, many small concerns closed their doors altogether. I've spoken to the fact that brick was not much used when I first came to Los Angeles and have shown how it soon after became more popular as a building material. This was emphasized during 1859 when 31 brick buildings, such as they were, were put up. In December, Benjamin Hayes, then district judge and holding court in the dingy old Adobe at the corner of Spring and Franklin streets, ordered the sheriff to secure and furnish another place. And despite the fact that there was only a depleted treasury to meet the new outlie of $5 or $6,000, few persons attempted to deny the necessity. The fact of the matter was that when it rained, water actually poured through the ceiling and ran down the courtroom walls, splattering all over the judge's desk to such an extent that umbrellas might very conveniently have been brought into use, all of which led to the limit of human patience if not of human endurance. In 1859, one of the first efforts toward the formation of a public library was made when Felix Bachman, Meyer J. Newmark, William H. Workman, Sam Foy, H.S. Allinson, and others organized a library association with John Temple as president, J.J. Warner, vice president, Francis Melis Treasurer, and Israel Fleishman, secretary. The association established a reading room in Don Abelstern's Arcadia block. An immediate and important acquisition was the collection of books that had been assembled by Henry Melis for his own home. Other citizens contributed books, periodicals, and money. And the messengers of the overland mail undertook to get such Eastern newspapers as they could for the perusal of the library members. Five dollars was charged as an initiation fee and a dollar for monthly dues, but insignificant as was the expense, the undertaking was not well patronized by the public and the project to the regret of many had to be abandoned. This effort to establish a library recalls an Angeleno of the 50s, Ralph Emerson, a cousin, I believe, though somewhat distantly removed of the famous Concord philosopher. He lived on the west side of Alameda Street in an Adobe known as Emerson's Row, between 1st Annaliso Street, where Miss Mary E. Hoyt, assisted by her mother, had a school. And where at one time Emerson, a strong competitor of mine in the Hyde business, had his office. Fire destroyed part of their home late in 1859 and again in the following September. Emerson served as a director on the library board, both he and his wife being among the most refined and attractive people of the neighborhood. It must have been late November that Miss Hoyt announced the opening of her school at number two Emerson Row, in doing which she followed a custom in vogue with private schools at that time and published the endorsements of leading citizens or patrons. Again in 1861, Miss Hoyt advertised to give instruction in the higher branches of English education with French drawing and ornamental needlework for $5 a month, while $3 was asked for the teaching of the common branches and needlework and only $2 for teaching the elementary courses. Miss Hoyt's move was probably due to the inability of the board of education to secure an appropriation with which to pay the public school teachers. This lack of means led not only to a general discussion of the problem, but to the recommendation that Los Angeles schools be graded and a high school started. Following a dry year and especially a fearful heat wave in October, which suddenly ran the mercury up to 110 degrees, December witnessed heavy rains in the mountains, inundating both valleys and towns. On the 4th of December, the most disastrous rain known in the history of the Southland set in, precipitating within a single day and night, 12 inches of water and causing the rise of the San Gabriel and other rivers to a height never before recorded in such a cataclysm that sand and debris was scattered far and wide. Lean and weakened from the ravaging drought through which they had just passed, the poor cattle now exposed to the elements of cold rain and wind fell in vast numbers in their tracks. The bed of the Los Angeles River was shifted for perhaps a quarter of a mile. Many houses in town were cracked and otherwise damaged and some caved in altogether. The front of the old church attacked through a leaking roof, disintegrated, swayed and finally gave way, filling the neighborhood street with impassable heaps. I've spoken of the market house built by John Temple for the city. On December 29th, there was a sale of the stalls by Mayor D. March Assault and all except six booths were disposed of, each for the term of three months. $173 was the rental agreed upon and Dodson and Company bid successfully for nine out of 13 of the stalls. By the following month however, complaints were made in the press that though the city fathers had condescended to let the suffering public have another market, they still prevented the free competition desired and by the end of August it was openly charged that the manner in which the city market was conducted showed a gross piece of favoritism and the city treasury on this account would suffer a monthly loss of $100 in rents alone. About 1859, John Murat, following in the wake of Henry Coon, proprietor of the New York Brewery established the Gambrinas in the block bounded by Los Angeles, San Pedro and First and what has become Second Streets. The brewery notwithstanding its spacious yard was anything but an extensive institution and the quality of the product dispensed to the public left much to be desired. But it was beer and Murat as the distinction of having been one of the first Los Angeles brewers. The New York's Spigot, a suggestive souvenir of those convivial days picked up by George W. Hazard now enriches a local museum. These reminiscences recall still another brewer, Christian Henney, at whose popular resort on Main Street on the last evening of 1859, following some conferences in the old roundhouse. 38 Los Angeles Germans met and formed an association which they called the Tutonia Concordia. The object was to promote social intercourse, especially among Germans, and to further the study of German song. C. H. Klassen was chosen first president, H. Hamel vice president, H. Heinch secretary and Lorenzo Lech treasurer. How great were the problems confronting the national government in the development of our continent may be gathered from the strenuous efforts and the results to encourage an overland mail route. $600,000 a year was the subsidy granted the Butterfield Company for running two mail coaches each way a week. Yet the postal revenue for the first year was but $27,000, leaving a deficit more than half a million. But this was not all that was discouraging. Politicians attacked the stage route administration, and then the newspapers had to come to the rescue and point out the advantages as compared with the ocean routes. Indians also were an obstacle and with the arrival of every stage, one expected to hear the sensational story of ambushing and murder rather than the yarn of a monotonous trip. When new reports of such outrages were brought in, new outcries were raised and new petitions calling on the government for protection were hurriedly circulated. End of Chapter 17 Chapter 18 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 18, First Experience with the Telegraph. 1860. In 1860 Maurice Kramer was elected county treasurer, succeeding H.N. Alexander who had entered the service of Wells Fargo and Company, and he attended to this new function at his store on Commercial Street where he kept the county funds. I had my office in the same place and the salary of the treasurer at the time being but $125 a month with no allowance for an assistant. I agreed to act as deputy treasurer without pay. As a matter of fact, I was a sort of emergency deputy only and accepted the responsibility as an accommodation to Kramer in order that when he was out of town there might be someone to take charge of his affairs. It is very evident, however, that I did not appreciate the danger connected with this little courtesy since it often happened that there were from $40,000 to $50,000 in the money chest. An expert burglar could have opened the safe without special effort and might have got scot-free for the only protector at night was my nephew, Kasper Kohn, a mere youth who clerked for me and slept on the premises. In as much as no bank had as yet been established in Los Angeles, Kramer carried the money to Sacramento twice a year. Nor was this transportation of the funds first by steamer to San Francisco, thence by boat inland without danger. The state was full of desperate characters who would cut a throat or scuttle a ship for a great deal less than the amount involved. At the end of five or six years, Kramer was succeeded as county treasurer by Jay Huber Jr. I may add incidentally that the funds in question could have been transported north by Wells Fargo and company, but their charges were exorbitant. At a later period when they were better equipped and rates had been reduced, they carried the state money. On January 2nd, Joseph Paulding, a Marylander, died. 27 years before, he came by way of the Gila and boasted having made the first two mahogany billiard tables constructed in California. The same month, attention was directed to a new industry, the polishing and mounting of abalone shells, then as now found on the coast of Southern California. A year or so later, G. Fisher was displaying a shell brooch, colored much like an opal and mounted in gold. By 1866, the demand for abalone shells had so increased that over $14,000 worth was exported from San Francisco. While a year later, consignments valued at not less than $36,000 were sent out through the Golden Gate. Even though the taste of today considers this shell as hardly deserving of such a costly setting, it is nevertheless true that these early ornaments, much handsomer than many specimens of quartz jewelry, soon became quite a fad in Los Angeles. Natives and Indians, especially, took a fancy to the abalone shell, and even much later, earrings of that material were worn by the crow scout Curly, a survivor of the custer massacre. In 1874, R. W. Jackson, a shell jeweler on Montgomery Street, San Francisco, was advertising here for the rarities, offering as much as $40 and $50 for a single sound red, black, or silver shell, and from $50 to $100 for a good green or blue one. Incidentally, it is interesting to note that the Chinese consumed the abalone meat in large quantities. Broom making was a promising industry in the early 60s, the carpenters of Los Nietos and F. W. Gibson of El Monte being among the pioneers in this handiwork. Several thousand brooms were made in that year, and since they brought $3 a dozen and cost but 11 cents each for the handles and labor exclusive of the corn, a good profit was realized. Major Edward Harold Fitzgerald, well known for campaigns against both Indians and bandits, died on January 9th and was buried with military honors. On January 10th, Bartholomew's Rocky Mountain Circus held fourth on the plaza, people coming in from miles around to see the show. It was then that the circus proprietor sought to quiet the nerves of the anxious by the large lettered announcement, a strict police is engaged for the occasion. The printing of news, editorials and advertisements in both English and Spanish recalls again not only some amusing incidents in court activities resulting from the inability of jurists and others to understand the two languages, but also the fact that in the early 60s sermons were preached in the Catholic Church at Los Angeles in English and Spanish, the former being spoken at one mass, the latter at another. English proper names such as John and Benjamin were Spanish into Juan and Benito and common Spanish terms persisted in English advertisements as when Don Juan Ávila and Fernando Sepulveda in January announced that they would run the horse Coyote 1000 Varus for $3,000. In 1862 also, when Sirriaco Arza was executed for the murder of Frank Reilly, the peddler and the prisoner had made a speech to the crowd, the sheriff read the warrant for the execution in both English and Spanish. Still another illustration of the use of Spanish here side by side with English is found in the fact that in 1858 the Los Angeles assessment rolls were written in Spanish, although by 1860 the entries were made in English only. A letter to the editor of the Star published on January 28th, 1860 will confirm my comments on the primitive school conditions in Los Angeles in the first decade or two after I came. The writer complained of the filthy condition of the boys' department, school number one, in which, to judge by the mud, the floor did not seem to have been swept for months. The editor then took up the cudgel saying that the board formerly paid a man for keeping the school room clean, but that the common counsel had refused any longer to pass the janitor's bills. Adding that, in his opinion, the counsel had acted wisely. If the teacher had really wished the school room floor to be cleaned, contended the economical editor, he should have appointed a pupil to swing a broom each day or at least each week, and otherwise perform the necessary duties on behalf of the health of the school. The year 1860 witnessed the death of Don Antonio Maria Lugo, brother of Don Jose Ignacio Lugo, grandfather of the wolf skills, uncle of General Vallejo, and the father-in-law of Colonel Isaac Williams, who preceded Lugo to the grave by four years. For a long time, Lugo lived in a spacious Adobe built in 1819 near the present corner of East Second and San Pedro Streets, and there the sons for whom he obtained the San Bernardino Rancho were born. In earlier days, or from 1813, Don Antonio lived on the San Antonio Ranch near what is now Compton, and so well did he prosper there that 11 leagues were not enough for the support of his cattle and flocks. It was a daughter of Lugo who, having married a Perez and being made a widow, became the wife of Stephen C. Foster, her daughter in turn marrying Wallace Woodworth and becoming Maria Antonio Perez de Woodworth. And Lugo, who used to visit them and the business establishments of the town, was a familiar figure as a sturdy caballero in the streets of Los Angeles, his ornamental sword strapped in Spanish soldier fashion to his equally ornamental saddle. Don Antonio died about the 1st of February, aged 87 years. About the middle of February, John Temple fitted up the large hall over the city market as a theater, providing for it a stage some 45 by 20 feet in size. In those days considered an abundance of platform space and a private box on each side whose possession became at once the ambition of every Los Angeles galant. Temple brought an artist from San Francisco to paint the scenery. Los Angeles then boasting of no one clever enough for the work and the same genius, Serp advised the general decoration of the house. What was considered a record-breaking effort at making the public comfortable was undertaken in furnishing the parquet with armchairs and in filling the gallery with two tiers of raised benches, guaranteeing some chance of looking over any broad sombreros in front. And to cap the enterprise, Temple brought down a company of players, especially to dedicate his new house. About February 20th, the actors arrived on the old senator. And while I do not recall who they were or what they produced, I believe that they first held forth on Washington's birthday when it was said, the scenery is magnificent, surpassing anything before exhibited in this city. The spring of 1860 was notable for the introduction of the Pony Express as a potent factor in the dispatch of a transcontinental mail. And although this new service never included Los Angeles as one of its terminals, it greatly shortened the time required and, naturally, if indirectly, benefited the Southland. Speed was indeed an ambition of the new management and some rather extraordinary results were attained. About April 20th, soon after the Pony Express was started, messages were rushed through from St. Louis to San Francisco in eight and a half days. And it was noised about that the Butterfields planned a rival Pony Express over a route 300 miles shorter that it would reach the coast in seven days. About the end of April, mail from London and Liverpool reached Los Angeles in 20 or 21 days. And I believe that the fastest time that the Pony Express ever made was in March, 1861, when President Lincoln's message was brought here in seven days and 17 hours. This was somewhat quicker than the passage of the report about Fort Sumter, a month afterward, which required 12 days and considerably faster than the transmission by the earlier methods of 1850, of the intelligence that California had been admitted to the Union. A bit of news of the greatest possible importance, yet not at all known here, I have been told, until six weeks after Congress enacted the law, which reminds me that the death of Elizabeth Barrett Browning, the poet, although occurring in Italy on June 29th, 1861, was first announced in Los Angeles on the 17th of the following August. In February or March, the sewer crossing Los Angeles Street and connecting the Bella Union with the Zanjia, which passed through the premises of Francis Melis Burst, probably as the result of recent rains, discharging its contents into the common yard. And in short order, Melis found himself minus two very desirable tenants. For a while, he thought of suing the city and then he decided to stop the sewer effectually. As soon as it was plugged up, however, the Bella Union found itself cut off from his accustomed outlet and there was soon a great uproar in the busy hostel ring. The upshot of the matter was that the Bella Union proprietors commenced suit against Melis. This was the first sewer, really a small square wooden pipe, whose construction inaugurated an early chapter in the annals of sewer building and control in Los Angeles. Competition for government trade was keen in the 60s and energetic efforts were made by merchants to secure their share of the crumbs, as well as the loaves that might fall from Uncle Sam's table. For that reason, Captain Winfield Scott Hancock easily added to his popularity as quartermaster, early in 1860, by preparing a map in order to show the War Department the relative positions of the various military posts in this district and to emphasize the proximity of Los Angeles. One day in the spring, a stranger called upon me with the interesting information that he was an inventor, which led me to observe that someone ought to devise a contrivance with which to pluck oranges, an operation then performed by climbing into the tree and pulling the fruit from the branches. Shortly after the interview, many of us went to the grove of Jean-Louis Saint-Savain to see a simple but ingenious appliance for picking the golden fruit. A pair of pincers on a light pole were operated from below by a wire, and when the wire was pulled, the fruit, quite unharmed by scratch or pressure, fell safely into a little basket fastened close to the pincers. In the same year, Pierre Saint-Savain established the first California wine house in New York and bought the Cucamonga Vineyard, where he introduced new and better varieties of grapes. But bad luck overtook him. In 1870, grasshoppers ate the leaves and destroyed the crop. Small as was the population of Los Angeles County at about this time, there was nevertheless, for a while, an exodus to Texas, due chiefly to the difficulty experienced by white immigrants in competing with Indian ranch and vineyard laborers. Toward the middle of March, much interest was manifested in the welfare of a native Californian named Cerebo, sometimes erroneously given as Cerebolo and even Cerebolo. Varela, who under the influence of bad whiskey had assaulted and nearly killed a companion and who seemed certain of a long time in the state prison. It was recalled, however, that when in the fall of 1846 the fiendish Flores, resisting the invasion of the United States forces, had captured a number of Americans and condemned them to be dragged out and shot. Varela, then a soldier under Flores, and a very brave fellow, broke from the ranks, denounced the act as a murder, declared that the order should never be carried out except over his dead body, and said and did such a number of things more or less melodramatic that he finally saved the lives of the American prisoners. Great sympathy was expressed, therefore, when it was discovered that this half-forgotten hero was in the toils, and few persons, if any, were sorry when Varela was induced to plead guilty to assault and battery, enabling the court to deal leniently with him. Varela became more and more addicted to strong drink and some years later he was the victim of foul play, his body being found in an unfrequented part of town. A scrapbook souvenir of the sixties gives us an idyllic view of the contemporaneous Pueblo life furnishing at the same time, an idea of the newspaper English of that day. It reads as follows. With the exception of a little legitimate shooting affair last Saturday night, by which some fellow had well nigh the top of his head knocked off, and one or two knock downs and drag outs, we have had a very peaceful week indeed. Nothing has occurred to disturb the even tenor of our way, and our good people seem to be given up to the quiet enjoyment of delicious fruits and our unequaled climate, each one literally under his own vine and fig tree, reveling in fancy's flights, or luxuriating among the good things which he finds temptingly at hand. The demand for better lighting facilities led the common council to make a contract toward the end of March with Tiffany and Weathered, who were given a franchise to lay pipes through the streets and to establish gasworks here, but the attempt proved abortive. In this same year, the trip east by the Overland stage route, which has formerly required nearly a month, was accomplished in 18 or 19 days, and toward the end of March, the Overland company replaced the mud wagons they had been using between Los Angeles and San Francisco with brightly painted and better upholstered Concorde coaches. Then the Los Angeles office was on Spring Street between 1st and 2nd, on the lot later bought by Lewis Roder for a wagon shop, and now the site of Roder Block. And there, for the price of $200, tickets could be obtained for the entire journey to St. Louis. Foreign coin circulated in Los Angeles, as I have said, for many years, and even up to the early 60s, Mexican money was accepted at par with our own. Improved facilities for intercourse with the outside world, however, affected the markets here, and in the spring of that year, several merchants refused to receive the species of our southern neighbor at more than its actual value as silver. As a result, these dealers, though perhaps but following the trend elsewhere, were charged openly with a combination to obtain an illegitimate profit. In 1860, while Dr. T.J. White was postmaster, a regulation was made, ordering all mail not called for to be sent to the dead letter office in Washington within a week after such mail had been advertised. But it was not until the fall of 1871 that this order was really put into operation in our neighborhood. For some time, this worked great hardship on many people living in the suburbs who found it impossible to call promptly for their mail, and who learned too late that letters intended for them had been returned to the center or destroyed. Political enthusiasm was keen in early days, as is usual in small towns, and victorious candidates at least knew how to celebrate. On Monday, May 7th, 1860, Henry Mellis was elected mayor. The next day, he and the other city officers paraded our streets in a four-horse stagecoach with a brass band. The mayor-elect and his comfrères were stuffed inside the hot, decorated vehicle while the puffing musicians bounced up and down on the swaying top outside, like popcorn in a frying pan. More than a ripple of excitement was produced in Los Angeles about the middle of May when Jack Martin, Billy Holcomb, and Jim Ware, in from Bear Valley, ordered provisions and paid for the same in shining gold dust. It was previously known that they had gone out to hunt for Bear, and their sudden return with this precious metal, together with their desire to pick up a few appliances, such as are not ordinarily used in trapping, made some of the hangers on about the store suspicious. The hunters were secretly followed and were found to return to what is now Holcomb Valley, and then it was learned that gold had been discovered there about the first of the month. For a year or two, many mining camps were formed in Holcomb and Upper Holcomb Valleys, and in that district the town of Belleville was founded, but the gold, at first apparently so plentiful, soon gave out, and the excitement incidental to the discovery subsided. While some men were thus digging for treasure, others sought fortune in the deep. Spearing sharks as well as whales was an exciting industry at this period, sharks running in large numbers along the coast and in the waters of San Pedro Bay. In May, or in Smith of Los Angeles, with the aid of his son, in one day caught 103 sharks, from which he took only the livers. These, when boiled, yielding oil, which burned fairly well even in its crude state. During the next year, shark hunting near Rattlesnake Island continued moderately remunerative. Sometime in the spring, another effort was made to establish a tannery here, and hopes were entertained that an important trade might thus be founded. But the experiment came to naught, and even today Los Angeles can boast of no tannery such as exists in several other California cities. With the approach of summer, Elijah and William H. Workman built a brick dwelling on Main Street next to Tom Rowan's Bakery, and set around it trees of several varieties. The residents, then one of the prettiest in town, was built for the boy's mother, and there with her they dwelt. That sectarian activity regarding public schools is nothing new in Los Angeles, may be shown from an incident, not without its humorous side of the year 1860. T. J. Harvey appeared with a broadside in the press, protesting against the reading of the Bible in schoolrooms, saying that he for one would never stand it come what may. Some may still remember his invective and his pyrotechnical conclusion, revolution, war, blood. During Downey's incumbency as governor, the legislature passed a law, popularly known as the Bulkhead Bill, authorizing the San Francisco Dock and Wharf Company to build a stone bulkhead around the waterfront of the Northern City, in return for which the company was to have the exclusive privilege of collecting tolls and wharfage for the long period of 50 years. A franchise, the stupendous value of which, even the projectors of that date could scarcely have anticipated. Downey, when the measure came before him for final action, vetoed the bill and thus performed a judicious act, perhaps the most meritorious of his administration. Whether Downey, who on January 9th had become governor, was really popular for any length of time, even in the vicinity of his home, may be a question. But his high office and the fact that he was the first governor from the Southland assured him a hearty welcome whenever he came down here from the capital. In June, Downey returned to Los Angeles, accompanied by his wife, and took rooms at the Bellilla Union Hotel, and besides the usual committee visits, receptions, and speeches from the balcony, arranged in honor of the distinguished guests, there was a salute of 13 guns fired with all ceremony, which echoed and re-echoed from the hillsides. In 1860, a number of delegates, including Casper Berend and myself, were sent to San Francisco to attend the laying of the cornerstone on the 25th of June, of the Masonic Temple at the corner of Post and Montgomery Streets. We made the trip when the weather was not only excessively hot, but the sand was a foot deep and headway very slow, so that, although we were young men and enjoyed the excursion, we could not laugh down all of the disagreeable features of the journey. It was no wonder, therefore, that when we arrived at Visalia, where we were to change horses, Berend wanted a shave. While he was in the midst of this tonsorial refreshment, the stage started on its way to San Francisco, and as Berend heard it passing the shop, he ran out with one side of his face smooth and clean, while the other side was whiskered and grimy, and tried to stop the disappearing vehicle. Despite all of his yelling and running, however, the stage did not stop, and finally Berend fired his pistol several times into the air. This attracted the attention of the sleepy driver who took the puffing passenger on board, whereupon the rest of us chaffed him about his singular appearance. Berend, footnote, died November 19th, 1913, and footnote, did not have much peace of mind until we reached the Plaza Hotel at San Juan Bautista, a relic, as someone has said, of the distant past where men and women played billiards on horseback and trees bore human fruit. Situated in a sweet little valley, mountain girdled and well-watered, where he was able to complete his shave and thus restore his countenance to its normal condition. In connection with his anecdote of the trip to San Francisco, I may add another story. On board the stage was Frédéric J. McCrellish, author of the Alta California, the principal coast paper, bought by McCrellish and company in 1858, and also secretary of the Telegraph Company at that time building his line between San Francisco and Los Angeles. When we reached a point between Gilroy and Visalia, which was the temporary terminus of the Telegraph from San Francisco, McCrellish spoke with some enthusiasm of the Moore's invention and invited everybody on the stage to send telegrams at his expense to his friends. I wrote out a message to my brother in San Francisco, telling him about the trip as far as I had completed it and passed the copy to the operator at the clicking instrument. It may be hard for the reader to conceive that this would be an exciting episode in a man's life. But since my first arrival in the Southland, there had been no telegraphic communication between Los Angeles and the outside world. And the remembrance of this experience at the Little Wayside Station was never to be blotted from my mind. I may also add that of that committee sent to the Masonic festivities in San Francisco, Berent and I are now the only surviving members. It has been stated that the population of Los Angeles in 1850 was but 1610. How true that is, I cannot tell. When I came to the city in 1853, there were some 2,600 people. In the summer of 1860, a fairly accurate census was made and it was found that our little town had 4,399 inhabitants. Two distinguished military men visited Los Angeles in the mid-summer of 1860. The first was General James Shields, who, in search of health, arrived by the overland route on the 24th of July, having just finished his term in the Senate. The effect of the wounds received at the Battle of Cerro Gordo years before and reports as to the climate of California started the general westward and quietly he alighted from the stage at the door of the Bella Union. After a while, General Shields undertook the superintending of a Mexican mine, but at the outbreak of the Civil War, although not entirely recovered, he hastened back to Washington and was at once appointed as a Brigadier General of Volunteers. The rest of his career is known. A week later, General, or as he was then entitled, Colonel John C. Fremont, drew up at the plaza. His coming to this locality in connection with the Tecumsoil tin mine and Mariposa forestry interests had been heralded from Gaudi's ranch some days before. And when he arrived on Tuesday, July 31st, in company with Leonidas Haskell and Joseph C. Palmer, the Republicans were out in full force and fired a salute of 25 guns. In the evening, Colonel Fremont was waited upon in the parlors of the Bella Union by a goodly company under the leadership of the Republican Committee, although all classes, irrespective of politics, united to pay the celebrated California pioneer of the honors do him. Alexander Gaudi, to whose rancho I have just referred, was a man of importance with a very extensive cattle range in Kern County, not far from Bakersfield, where he later lived. He occasionally came to town and was an invariable visitor at my store, purchasing many supplies from me. These and other provisions, which Gaudi and his neighbors sent for, were transported by borough or mule train to the ranches in care of Miguel Ortiz, who had his headquarters in Los Angeles. Leading the so-called pack trains was an art. By means of rope and slats of wood, merchandise was strapped to the animal's sides and back in such a fashion that it could not slip, and thus a heavy well-balanced load was conveyed over the plain and the mountain trails. By 1860, the Germans were well-organized and active here in many ways. A German benevolent society called Eintracht, which met Tuesday and Friday evenings in the Arcadia block for music drill under Director Heinch, affording stimulating entertainment and accomplishing much good. The term virene, on the other hand, took an interest in the success of the roundhouse, and on March 12th put up a Liberty pole on top of the oddly-shaped building. Lager beer and other things deemed by the Teutonic brethren essential to a Garden of Paradise, and to such an occasion, were freely dispensed, and on that day, layman was in all his glory. A particular feature of this Garden of Paradise was a cabbage, about which have grown up some traditions of the Brabdingnagian sort that the reader may accept in toto, or with a grain of salt. It was planted when the place was opened, and is said to have attained, by December 1859, a height of 12 feet with a circumference, so averred and ambiguous chronicler of the period, referring doubtless to crinolines, equal to that of any fashionably-attired city bell measuring eight or 10 feet. By July 1860, the cabbage attained a growth, so the story goes, of 14 feet four inches, although George always claimed it had been cropped 20 or more times, and its leaves used for coleslaw, sauerkraut, and goodness knows what. I can afford the modern reader no better idea of layman's personality and resort than by quoting the following contemporaneous, if not very scholarly, account. The Garden of Paradise. Our friend George of the Round House, who there keeps a garden with the above captivating name, was one of the few who done honor to the fourth. He kept the national ensign at the fore, showed his 15-foot cabbage, and dealt lager to admiring crowds all day. Among the popular pleasure resorts of 1860 was the Tivioli Garden on the Wolfskill Road, conducted by Charles Kaiser, who called his friends together by placarding the legend, Hurrah for the Tivioli. Music and other amusements were provided every Sunday from two o'clock, and dancing could be enjoyed until late in the night, and as there was no charge for admission, the place was well patronized. When the 4th of July, 1859 approached, and no preparation had been made to observe the holiday, some children who were being instructed in calisthenics by A.F. Tilden began to solicit money, their childish enthusiasm resulting in the appointing of a committee, the collecting of $400, and a picnic in Don Luis San Cervantes Enclosed Garden. A year later, Tilden announced that he would open a place for gymnastic exercises in Temple's New Block, charging men $3 for the use of the apparatus and the privilege of a shower bath and training boys at half-rates. This was the origin of systematic physical culture in Los Angeles. End of chapter 18. Chapter 19 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 19, Steam Wagon, Odd Characters, 1860. Early in 1860, Phineas Banning and J.J. Tomlinson, the energetic rivals in Lighteridge and Frating at San Pedro, embarked as lumber merchants, thereby anticipating the enormous trade that has flowed for years past from the North through Los Angeles to Southern California and Arizona. Having many teams, they hauled lumber when traffic was not sufficient to keep their wagon trains busy from the harbor to the city or even when there was need to the ranchos. It must have been in the same year that FPF Temple at a cost of about $40,000 for lumber alone fenced in a wide acreage, at the same time building large and substantial barns for his stock. By the summer of that year, Banning was advertising lumber delivered in Los Angeles. And from October 1st, Banning and Hinchman had an office near the northern junction of Main and Spring Streets. A couple of years before, Banning in person had directed the driving of 17 mule teams from San Pedro to Fort Yuma, covering in 12 or 13 days the 230 miles of barely passable road. The following March, Banning and Tomlinson, who had so often opposed each other even in the courts, came to an understanding and buried the hatchet for good. At this time, Joseph Everdhart, who with Frederick W. Cole had conducted the Lafayette Hotel, sold out and moved to San Francisco, marrying Mrs. R. Mayer, now John Lang's widow, sister-in-law of Kiln Messer. Later, Everdhart went to Sonoma and then to Victoria, B.C., in each place making his mark. And in the latter city, he died. Like both Messer and Lang, Everdhart had passed through varied and trying experiences. The owner of the Russ Garden Restaurant in 1849, in Lively, San Francisco, he came to Los Angeles and took hold of the hotel Lafayette. And with him was a partner named Fucht. But a free fight and display of shooting irons, such as often enlivened a California hotel, having sent the guests and hangers on, scurrying to quarters, induced Fucht to sell out his interests in very short order, whereupon Everdhart took in with him, Frederick W. Cole, who lived on a site now, the southeast corner of Seventh and Spring Street, where he had an orange grove. Pursuing Indians was dangerous in the extreme as Robert Wilburne found, when he went after some 20 head of cattle stolen from Felix Bachman, by Paiute, or Paiute Indians, in January 1860, during one of their marauding expeditions into California. Wilburne chased the red man, but he never came back. And when his body was found, it was pierced with three or four arrows, probably shot at him simultaneously by as many of the cattle thieves. Don Tomás A. Sanchez, sheriff from 1860 to 1867, had a record for physical courage and prowess, having previously been an officer under Pico in the Mexican War days, and having later aided Pico in his efforts to punish Barton's murderers. Sanchez had property, and in 1887 a patent was granted his estate for 4,000 or more acres in the ranch known as Cinega o Paso de la Tijera. Destructive fires in the open country, if not as common as now, still occasionally stirred our citizens. Such a fire broke out in the San Fernando Valley in the middle of July, and spread so rapidly that a square mile and a half of territory was denuded and charred. Not only were there no organized means to fight such fires, but men were compelled to sound the alarm through couriers on horseback. And if the wind happened to be blowing across the plains, even the fletest horseman had all he could do to avoid the flames and reach in time the widely separated rancheros. Here I may add that as late as the 60s, all of the uninhabited parts of Los Angeles, especially to Main Street, were known as Plains, and crossing the plains was an expression commonly used with a peculiarly local significance. So wretched were the roads in the early decades after my arrival, and so many were the plans proposed for increasing the rapidity of travel that great curiosity was excited in 1860 when it was announced that Phineas Banning had bought a steam wagon and would soon introduce a kind of vehicle such as Los Angeles at least had never seen. This steam wagon was a traction engine built by J. Whitman and Sons at Leeds, England, and was already on its way across the ocean. It had been ordered by Richard A. Ogden of San Francisco for the Patagonia Copper Mining Company, a trial before shipping having proved that with a load of 38 tons, the engine could attain a speed of five miles an hour, and Banning paid handsomely for the option of purchasing the vehicle on condition that it would ultimately prove a success. The announcement was made in April and by early June, the engine had reached San Francisco where it made the run to Mission Dolores in three quarters of an hour. All the San Francisco papers told of the truly wonderful machine, one reporter avering that the engineer had so perfect control that a visit was made to various parts of the city to the astonishment and gratification of the multitude. And since these accounts were immediately copied by the Los Angeles papers, which added the official announcement that Captain Hughes had loaded the engine on board his schooner, the Lewis Perry, and was bringing it south as fast as he could, popular excitement rose like the Mercury in summer, and but one more report was needed to make it the absorbing talk of the hour. That came on the 28th of July when the star announced the steam wagon has arrived at San Pedro. And it was not long before many persons went down to the port to get a sight of the wonderful object. And wait they did. Although the star said that all our citizens were anxiously, hourly expecting to see major Banning heave in sight at the foot of Main Street, no Banning heave. Instead on the 4th of August the same star broke forth with this lament. The steam wagon is at San Pedro and we regret to learn that it is likely to remain there. So far all attempts to reach this city with freight have failed. And that was the end of the steam wagon experiment here. In every community there are characters who, for one reason or another, develop among their fellows a reputation for oddity. We have all seen the good nature of a rather stout old gentleman whose claim to dignity is his old-fashioned Prince Albert and rather battered-looking silk hat, but who, although he boasts many friends, is never successful in the acquisition of this world's goods. We have seen too the vendor of ice cream, tamales, or similar commodity, who in his youth had been an opera singer or actor, but whose too-intensive thirst rendered him impossible in his profession and brought him far down in the world. Some were dangerous criminals, some were harmless but obnoxious, others still were harmless and amusing. Many such characters I have met during my 60 years in Los Angeles and each filled a certain niche, even those whose only mission was to furnish their fellows with humor or amusement, having thus contributed to the charm of life. Viejo Cholo, or Old Halfbreed, a Mexican over 60 years of age who was never known by any other name, was such an eccentric character. He was half-blind, were a pair of white linen pantaloons, and for a mantle used in old sheet. This he threw over his shoulders, and thus accoutered, he strutted about the streets like a Spanish cavalier. His cane was a broom handle, his lunch counter, the swirl bucket, and when times were particularly bad, Viejo bagged. The youngsters of the pueblo were the bane of Cholo's existence and the torment of his infirmity and old age. Cholo was succeeded by Pinicotti, who was half-Indian and half-Mexican. He was not over four feet in height and had a flat nose, a stubby beard, and a face badly pockmarked. And he presented, altogether, as unkempt and obnoxious an appearance as one might imagine. Pinicotti was generally attired in a well-worn straw hat, the top of which was missing, and his long hair stuck out in clumps and snarls. A woolen undershirt and a pair of overalls completed his costume, while his toes, as a rule, protruded from his enormous boots. Unlike Viejo Cholo, Pinicotti was permitted to go unmolested by the juvenile portion of the population. In as much as, though half-witted, he was somewhat of an entertainer, for it was natural for him to play the flute and, what was really interesting, he made his own instruments out of the reed that grew along the river banks. Pinicotti cut just the holes, I suppose, that produced what seemed to him proper harmony, and on these homemade flutes performed such airs as his wandering fancy suggested. He always played weird tunes and danced strange Indian dances, and through these crude gifts he became, as I have said, sufficiently popular to enjoy some immunity. Nevertheless, he was a professional beggar, and whatever he did to afford amusement was done, after all, for money. This was easily explained. For money alone would buy, Aguardiente, and Pinicotti had little use for anything else. Aguardiente, as the word was commonly used in Southern California, was a native brandy, full of hellfire, and so the poor half-breed was always drunk. One day Pinicotti drank a glass too much, and this brought about such a severance of his ties with beautiful Los Angeles that his absorption of one spirit released, at last, the other. Sometime in the eventful sixties, a tall, angular, muscular-looking woman was here, who went by the singular sobriquette of Captain Jinx, a title which she received from a song then very popular, the first couplet of which ran something like this. I'm Captain Jinx of the horse marines, I feed my horse on pork and beans. She half strode, half jerked her way along the street, as though scanning the lines of that ditty with her feet. She was strong for women's rights, she said, and she certainly looked it. China men were not only more numerous by 1860, but they had begun to vary their occupations, many working as servants, laundromats, or farmhands. In March, a Chinese company was also organized to compete for local fish trade. In 1860, Emile Bordeneuve and company opened the Louisiana Coffee Saloon as a French restaurant. Roast, duck, and oysters were their specialty, and they charged 50 cents a meal, but they also served a plate at one bit, footnote, 12 and one-half cents, and footnote. Some years later, there was a two-bit restaurant known as Browns on Main Street near the United States Hotel where a good substantial meal was served. James, often called Santiago Johnson, who, for a short time prior to his death about 1860 or 1861, was forewider of freight at San Pedro, came to Los Angeles in 1833 with a cargo of Mexican and Chinese goods, and after that, owned considerable ranch property. In addition to ranching, he also engaged extensively in cattle raising. Peter, popularly known as Pete or bully Wilson, a native of Sweden, came to Los Angeles about 1860. He ran a one-horse dray, and as soon as he had accumulated sufficient money, he bought for $1,200, the southeast corner of Spring and First Streets, where he had his stable. He continued to prosper, and his family still enjoy the fruits of his industry. The same year, George Smith started to haul freight and baggage. He had four horses hitched to a somber-looking vehicle nicknamed the Black Swan. JD Yates was a grocer and provision dealer of 1860 with a store on the plaza. I have referred to Bishop Amat as presiding over the diocese of Monterey and Los Angeles, but Los Angeles was linked with Monterey for a while, even in judicial matters. Beginning with 1860 or 1861, when Fletcher M. Hate, father of Governor H. H. Hate, was the first judge to resign, the United States Court for the Southern District of California was held alternately in the two towns mentioned. Colonel J. O. Wheeler, serving as clerk in the court for the Southern term, occupying seven rooms of the second story of John Temple's block. These alternate sessions continued to be held until about 1866, when the Tribunal for the Southern District ceased to exist and Angelenos were compelled to apply to the court in San Francisco. For years, such was the neglect of the Protestant barrel ground that in 1860, caustic criticism was made by each newspaper, discussing the condition of the cemetery. There was no fence, headstones were disfigured or demolished, and there was little or no protection to the graves. As a matter of fact, when the cemetery on Fort Hill was abandoned, but few of the bodies were removed. By 1860, the New England Fire Insurance Company of Hartford, Connecticut was advertising here through its local agent, H. Hamilton, our friend of the Los Angeles Star. Hamilton used to survey the applicant's premises, forward the data to William Faulkner, the San Francisco representative, who executed the policy and mailed the document back to Los Angeles. After a while, Samuel Briggs with Wells Fargo and Company represented the Phoenix Insurance Company. H. Newmark and Company also sold insurance somewhat later, representing the Commercial Union Insurance Company. About 1880, however, they disposed of their insurance interests to Maurice Cramer, whose main competitor was W. J. Broderick. And from this transaction, developed the firm of Cramer, Campbell and Company, still in that business. Not only in this connection, but elsewhere in these memoirs, it may be noted how little specialization there was in earlier days in Los Angeles. In fact, it was not until about 1880 that this process, distinctive of economic progress, began to appear in Los Angeles. I myself have handled practically every staple that makes up the very great proportion of merchandising activity, whereas my successors of today, as well as their competitors, deal only in groceries and kindred lines. Two brothers, Emile and Theophile Vaché, in the fall of 1860, started what has become the oldest firm, Vaché Frères, in the local wine business, at first utilizing the Bernard residence at Alameda and Third Streets, in time used by the government as a bonded warehouse. Later, they removed to the building on Aliso Street, once occupied by the medical college, where the sellers proved serviceable for the winery. There they attempted the manufacture of cream of tartare from wine crystals, but the venture was not remunerative. In 1881, The Vaché's, joined by their brother Adolf, began to grow grapes in the Barton Vineyard in San Bernardino County, and sometime afterward they bought nearby land and started the famous Brookside Vineyard. Emile is now dead, while Theophile, who retired and returned to Europe in 1892, retaining an interest in the firm of The Vaché and Company, passed his hours pleasantly on the picturesque island of St. George de Laurent, in the Charente in Führer, in his native France. On September 21st, Captain W. S. Hancock, who first came to Los Angeles in connection with the expedition against the Mojave Indians in 1858, sought to establish a new kind of express between Los Angeles and Fort Mojave, and set out a camel in charge of Greek George to make the trial trip. When they had been gone two and a half days, the regular express messenger bound for Los Angeles met them at Lane's Crossing, apparently in none too promising a condition, which later gave rise to a report that the camel had died on the desert. This occasioned the numerous newspaper squibs apropos of both the speed and the staying powers of the camel as contrasted with those of the Breuero. And finally in October, the following announcement appeared placarded throughout the town by Polterer de Rowe and Eldridge, Office and Sales Room, Corner California and Front Streets, San Francisco. Preemptory sale of Bactrian camels imported from the Amor River, X, Caroline E. Foot. On Wednesday, October 10th, 1860, we will sell at public auction in lots to suit purchasers for cash, 13 Bactrian camels. From a cold and mountainous country comprising six males and seven females, five being with young, all in fine health and condition. For further particulars, inquire of the auctioneers. In 1858, Richard Garvey came to Los Angeles and entered the government service as a messenger between this city and New Mexico for Captain W.S. Hancock. Later, he went to the Holcomb Valley Mines where he first met Lucky Baldwin. And by 1872, he had disposed of some San Bernardino mine properties at a figure which seemed to permit his retirement and ease for the rest of his life. For the next 20 years, he was variously employed at times operating for Baldwin. Garvey is at present living in Los Angeles. What was one of the last bullfights here towards the end of September when a little child was trodden upon in the ring reminds me not only of the succeeding sports, including horse racing, but as well that Francis Temple should be credited with encouraging the importation and the breeding of good horses. In 1860, he paid $7,000, then considered an enormous sum for Black Warrior. And not long afterward, he bought Billy Blossom at a fancy figure. A political gathering or two enlivened the year 1860. In July, when the local sentiment was to all appearances strongly in favor of Breckenridge and Lane, the Democratic candidates for president and vice president, 100 guns were fired in their honor and great was the jubilation of the Democratic hosts. A later meeting under the auspices of the Breckenridge Club was held in front of the Montgomery Saloon on Main Street. Judge Dryden presided and Senator Milton S. Latham was the chief speaker. A number of ladies graced the occasion, some seated in chairs nearby and others remaining in their vehicles drawn up in a semi-circle before the speakers stand. As a result of all this effort, the candidates in question did lead in the race here, but only by four votes. On counting the ballots the day after election, it was found that Breckenridge had 267 votes, while Douglas, the independent Democratic nominee, had polled 263. Of permanent interest perhaps, as showing the local sentiment on other questions of the time, is that Lincoln received in Los Angeles only 179 votes. Generally, a candidate persuaded his friends to nominate and endorse him, but now and then one came forward and addressed the public directly. In the fall of 1860, the following announcement appeared in the Southern News. To the voters of Los Angeles Township, I am a candidate for the Office of the Justice of the Peace, and a desire to say to you frankly that I want you all to vote for me on the 6th of November next. I aspire to the office for two reasons. First, because I am vain enough to believe that I am capable of performing the duties required with credit to myself and to the satisfaction of all good citizens. Second, because I am poor and am desiring of making an honest living thereby. William G. Still. During my first visit to San Francisco in the fall of 1853 and while en route to Los Angeles, my attention was called to a line of electrical telegraph then just installed between the Golden Gate and the town for use in reporting the arrival of vessels. About a month later, a line was built from San Francisco to Sacramento, Stockton, and around to San Jose. Nothing further however was done toward reaching Southern California with the electric wire until the end of May or the beginning of June 1860 when President R. E. Raymond and Secretary Fred J. McCrellish, promoters of the Pacific and Atlantic telegraph company organized in 1858 to reach San Antonio, Texas and Memphis, Tennessee, came to Los Angeles to lay the matter before our citizens. Stock was soon subscribed for a line through the city and as far as Fort Yuma and in a few days Banning had 50 teams ready to haul the telegraph poles which were deposited in time along the proposed route. In the beginning interest was stimulated by the promise that the telegraph would be in operation by the 4th of July but Independence Day came and went and the best that the telegraph company could do was to make the ambiguous report that there were so and so many holes in the ground. Worse than that it was announced toward the end of July that the stock of wire had given out and still worse that no more could be had this side of the Atlantic States. That news was indeed discouraging but by the middle of August 20 tons of wire were known to be on a clipper bound for San Francisco around the Horn and five tons were being hurried here by steamer. The wire arrived in due season and the most energetic efforts were made to establish telegraphic communication between Los Angeles and San Francisco. It was while McCrellish was slowly returning to the North in June that I met him as narrated in a previous chapter. Finally at eight o'clock on October 8th, 1860 a few magic words from the North were ticked out in the Los Angeles office of the telegraph company. Two hours later as those familiar with our local history know Mayor Henry Melis set the following memorable message to H.F. Teschamacher president of the San Francisco board of supervisors. Allow me on behalf of the citizens of Los Angeles to send you greeting of fellowship and good feeling on the completion of the line of telegraph which now binds the two cities together. Whereupon the next day President Teschamacher who by the way was a well-known importer having brought the first almond seed from the Mediterranean in the early fifties replied to Mayor Melis your despatch has just been received. On behalf of the citizens of San Francisco I congratulate Los Angeles trusting that the benefit may be mutual. A ball in Los Angeles fittingly celebrated the event as will be seen from the following despatch penned by Henry D. Barrows who was then Southern California correspondent of the bulletin. Los Angeles October 9th, 1860, 1045 a.m. Here is the maiden salutation of Los Angeles to San Francisco by lightning. This despatch the first to the press from this point the correspondent of the bulletin takes pleasure in communicating in behalf of his fellow citizens. The first intelligible communication by the electric wire was received here last night at about eight o'clock and a few hours later at a grand and brilliant ball given in honor of the occasion despatches were received from San Francisco announcing the complete working of the entire line. Speeches were made in the crowded ballroom by E. J. C. Cuen and J. McCrellish. News of Colonel Baker's election in Oregon to the United States Senate electrified the Republicans but the Breckenridge's doubted it at first. Just before leaving yesterday Senator Latham planted the first telegraph poll from this point east assisted by a concourse of citizens. Barrow's telegram concluded with the statement highly suggestive of the future commercial possibilities of the telegraph that the steamer senator would leave San Pedro that evening with 3,000 or more boxes of grapes. On October 16th the steamer J. T. Wright named after the boat owner and widely advertised as new, elegant and fast arrived at San Pedro in charge of Captain Robert Haley and many persons professed to see in her appearance on the scene new hope for beneficial coast-wise competition. After three or four trips however the steamer was withdrawn. Leonard John Rose, a German by birth and brother-in-law of H. K. S. O. Mulvaney arrived with his family by the Butterfield stage route in November having fought and conquered so to speak every step of his way from Illinois from which state two years before he had set out. Rose and other pioneers tried to reach California along the 35th parallel, a route surveyed by Lieutenant Beale but presenting terrific hardships. On the sides of mountains at times they had to let down their wagons by ropes and again they almost died of thirst. The Mojave Indians too set upon them and did not desist until 17 Indians had been killed and nine whites were slain or wounded. Rose himself not escaping injury. With the help of other immigrants Rose and his family managed to reach Albuquerque where within two years in the hotel business he acquired $14,000. Then coming to Los Angeles he bought from William Wolfe's Kill 160 acres near the old mission of San Gabriel and so prospered that he was soon able to enlarge his domain to over 2,000 acres. He laid out a splendid vineyard and orange grove and being full of ambition enterprise and taste it was not long before he had the show place of the county. Apparently Temple really inaugurated his new theater with the coming to Los Angeles in November of that year of the great star company of Stark and Ryer as well as with the announcement made at the time by their management. This is the first advent of a theatrical company here. Stark and Ryer were in Los Angeles for a week or two and though I should not vouch for them as stars the little hall was crowded each night and almost to suffocation. There were no fire ordinances then as to filling even the aisles and the window sills nor am I sure that the conventional fire pail more often empty than filled with water stood anywhere about but just as many tickets were sold regardless of the seating capacity. Tragedy gave way alternately to comedy one of the evenings being devoted to the honeymoon and as this was not quite long enough to satisfy the onlookers who had neither trains nor boats to catch there was an after peace and those days when Los Angeles was entirely dependent on the North for theatrical and similar talent it sometimes happened that the steamer was delayed or that the star failed to catch the ship and so could not arrive when expected. As a result of which patrons who had journeyed in from the ranches had to journey home again with their curiosity and appetite for the histrionic unsatisfied. Prisoners especially Indians were employed on public works. As late as November 1860 the water overseer was empowered to take out any Indians who might be in the Calibus and to use them for repairing the highways and bridges. About 1860 Nathan Jacoby came to Los Angeles on my invitation as I had known him in Europe and he was with me about a year. When I sold out he entered the employ of M. Kramer and later went into business for himself. As the senior partner of Jacoby brothers he died suddenly in 1911. Associated with Nathan at different periods were his brothers Herman, Abraham, Morris, Charles and Lesser Jacoby all of them early arrivals. Of this group Charles and Lesser both active in business circles in their day are also dead. Toward the end of 1860 Solomon Lazard returned to France to visit his mother but no sooner had he arrived at his old homeland and registered according to law with the police than he was arrested, charged with having left his fatherland at the age of 17 without having performed military duty. In spite of his American citizenship he was tried by court martial and sentenced to a short imprisonment but through the intervention of the United States Minister Charles J. Faulkner the author of the fugitive slave law of 1850 and the clemency of the emperor Napoleon III he was finally released. He had to furnish a substitute however or pay a fine of 1500 francs and he paid the fine. At length notwithstanding his unpleasant experience Lazard arrived in Los Angeles about the middle of March 1861. Tired of the wretched sidewalks John Temple in December 1860 set to work to introduce an improvement in front of his main street block an experiment that was watched with interest. Bricks were covered with a thick coating of asphalt brought from La Brea Ranch which was smoothed while still warm and then sprinkled with sand. The combination promising great durability. In the summer season however the coating became soft and gluey and was not comfortable to walk upon. I've already spoken of the effect of heat and age on foodstuffs such as eggs and butter when brought over the hot desert between San Bernardino and Los Angeles. This disadvantage continued for years nor was the succeeding plan of bringing provisions from San Francisco and the North by way of the ocean without its obstacles. A. Olyard, the baker, realized the situation and in December advertised fresh crackers baked in Los Angeles a superior to those half-spoiled by the sea voyage. Previous to the days of warehouses and much before the advent of railroads the public hay scale was an institution having been constructed by Francis Melis in the dim past. Exposed to the elements it stood alone out in the center of Los Angeles street somewhat south of Aliso and in the lawless times of the young town was a silent witness to the numerous crimes perpetrated in the adjacent Calle de los Negros. Onto its rough platform the neighboring farmers drove their heavy loads often waiting an hour or two for the arrival of the owner who alone had the key to his mysterious mechanism. Speaking of this lack of a warehouse brings to my mind the pioneer of 1850 Edward Naud who first attracted attention as a clever pastryman with a little shop on commercial street where he made a specialty of lady fingers selling them at 50 cents a dozen. Engaging in the wool industry he later became interested in wool and this led him in 1878 to erect Nauds Warehouse on Alameda street at present known as the Union Warehouse. Footnote destroyed by fire on September 22nd, 1915 and footnote Naud died in 1881. His son Edward born in Los Angeles is famous as an amateur chef who can prepare a French dinner that even a professional might be proud of. In May as elsewhere stated Henry Mellis was elected mayor of Los Angeles and on the 26th of December he died the first to yield that office to the interrexable demands of death. The news of his demise called forth unfaithful expressions of regret for Mellis was not only a man of marketability but he was of genial temperament and the soul of honor. End of chapter 19.