Tales From the Whitethorn: A Miner's Tale

When I first heard of the discovery of gold in California, I didn’t pay much heed; it’s just another yarn from that wild land we so often heard strange tales about. The story was of how a builder named Marshall in 1848 found several gold nuggets while constructing a saw mill along a river near a place now known as Sacramento. Turned out Marshall and his boss, a fellow named Sutter, weren’t too happy about the discovery of gold. It appears, Sutter wanted to control some kind of agricultural plantation, and gold digging would disrupt his plans. The two of them decided to keep the discovery under their hats . But as you children know trying to hide a secret in a place like that is like trying to keep the sea back from the land. News of the discovery livened up the sleepy town of San Francisco, and in no time many people were talking about gold. Nevertheless, they couldn’t be certain it was true and most thought it was just another fantastic tale, too unlikely to be believed. Then out of the blue, a storekeeper, called Sam Brannan ran up and down the streets of San Francisco waving a bottle of gold dust shouting at the top of his voice “gold, gold from the river” .
“But grandpa, why would the storekeeper want to tell everyone about the gold? Would it not be better to keep quiet and find the gold himself?”
By thunder! master Isaac, you’re a smart one and no mistaken. That’s what I would have done, but I guess Sam Brannan was even cleverer than you and me. You see, before he ran about hollering of gold, Brannan made sure he bought all the picks and shovels and other mining stuff, like pans, sieves, and sluice boxes he could lay his hand on. He became the richest man in California and never had to break his back digging like your poor grandpa. When the gold rush started, he was the only one selling tools, which I later found out to my cost when I had to buy a pick and shovel from him at 10 times their value. I heard tell that in nine weeks he made $36,000 selling mining stuff.
“Grandpa, I would have done exactly as Mr. Brannan did because I don’t like digging either.”
“No you wouldn’t”
“I would too, Isaac Johnson.”
“Now Lucy, you know it’s rude to stick your tongue, even at your brother. I’m sure you both would have come up with his idea sooner or later. Come on, the two of you give your old grandpa a hug before I start telling again.”
Anyway, back in New York, where I lived, earning my bread working in a factory making leather straps for horse wagons, news of Brannan’s antics spread like fire. This time people believed the story, especially when our beloved President Polk declared it true. All of a sudden with farmers, merchants, laborers, and factory workers the only talk was about going to California and getting rich for evermore. The newspapers said the gold there was a plentiful as the mud in our streets. Gold fever spread like smallpox through an Indian tribe. I’ve seen men selling everything they owned and leaving their wives and children, often never to see them again. I myself had neither wife nor kin, but had inherited money from my late uncle who had done well for himself supervising the building of the New York to Lake Erie Canal. Being a city fellow, I didn’t fancy the arduous trip across country along the Oregon trail. The sea voyage around the treacherous horn would take too long. Besides, I’ve heard of ships being swallowed whole by the fierce storms there. I decided to pay extra and take a ship to Panama.
By early May, I was ready with what provisions I could carry, including a rifle, pistol, and a bowie knife. With about 200 others I boarded a clipper ships bound for the Isthmus of Panama. Although I suffered seasickness from time to time, the journey was pleasant. It took us four weeks to reach the port of Charges in Panama. To cross Panama to the Pacific, I had to travel first by canoe and then by mule through the jungle. The novelty of seeing all the strange colored birds and howling monkeys soon wore off as the humid heat became unbearable, together with the mud, mosquitoes, and jungle fever . I almost wished I’d stayed in New York. However, in four days we arrived exhausted at the Pacific but not before two men died from fever.
You may ask why I endured such hardships and left my job in New York. Well, the economic times there were not good; life was hard and I had to work long hours at the factory. My wages had been cut. The country had not recovered from some of the bad decisions made a former president called Jackson. He forced the National Bank to close and paper money was not worth as much as it used to be. In 1837, there was a big panic because of the falling value of money, and the U.S. went into a great economic depression. The discovery of gold gave young men like me hope and promised a way out of the drudgery of daily living.
I’m wondering off the story. Following a wait of only two days, we boarded a German ship bound for San Francisco. I can’t tell you the joy we all felt upon reaching our destination. Some of us really thought the streets were paved with gold, but the reality was far different. The town was a frontier town with muddy unpaved streets with hundreds of people rushing about. I was shocked at the price of everything, including board and foods. I had to sleep in a dirty rat-infested room with about 10 others. Suffice to say, conditions were bad and not like we were told back in New York. Once I purchased supplies, I was glad to head for the mining camps.
I soon discovered all the easy gold from the rivers was gone; instead, we had to do backbreaking work digging the gravel and rocks. Life in the camp was sometimes dangerous. All types of humanity were present, and there was much drinking, gambling, and even murders, which I had no desire to be a part of. I become friendly with a big bear of a fellow called William Kelly; together we decided to branch out on our own and leave the camp because we were not finding hardly any gold. We stayed close to small streams along ravines and had to dig down several feet before we found any semblance of gold. To speed the work and to provide greater physical protection we teamed with three other we met. That way we divided the work of digging and sifting the dirt. Nevertheless, we were not finding enough even to cover expenses and funds were running low. Soon we would be hungry and like so many before us we would either starve or be killed by Indians.
“Children, its time you were in bed, it’s late.”
“But ma, grandpa is telling us about the gold”
“Alright then, just some more minutes. But you, mister, make sure you don’t ramble on like you like to.”
“I won’t daughter; I promise.”
As we moved further up a remote ravine, we came across two scrawny half starved prospectors. They said they were going back to San Francisco to return to Boston. After we gave them some nourishment, they showed us where they had dug a hole about four feet wide that contracted to a point as it reached some bedrock. Carlos, one of our party with a good knowledge of prospecting, suggested they keep the hole the same width down and follow the incline of the rock in a direction away from the river.
“But thar ain’t nuttin thar, I’m tellin yar.”
I never forgot those words; they haunt me to this day. We gave them what supplies we could and bade them God’s speed. Later when we tried to find them, we found out Paiute Indians ambushed and killed them. May they rest in peace, poor souls. Many gold diggers didn’t find gold because of inexperience. I was lucky to have met Carlos; without his knowledge of geology and mining, I believe we would not have found gold in any great quantity.
When we had dug down another few feet like Carlos suggested, we found the beginnings of a solid vein of gold, just as we were about to abandon the venture. The vein was substantial in size, big enough to make us all rich men, once we had staked our claim with the legal authorities. We worked the mine for several more years, and we were able to hire men to work for us. Unfortunately, one partner, whom we nicknamed “Peru Joe”, took to drinking and gambling; he lost his senses to gold and was shot dead over an argument during a poker game. However, us remaining four made something of our lives, and as you know your good buddy Carlos often visits us from time to time. With the fortune I made, I moved further north, bought some land and property, and started my own leather factory. Now your pa owns several factories all over California. God has blessed my life and I’ll be happy to see Him when I see Him. Every day I’m grateful for all He gave me, but especially for my family and for the love of beautiful children like you two who are worth more to me than all the gold in California.
“We love you grandpa.”