A Matter of Convenience

By Paisley Kirkpatrick

I’m sharing a couple of my photos and stories of the life in Placerville, California during the gold rush era that began around 1849 and, in some circumstances, is still alive now. These two buildings have quite an interesting history as one gave immediate gratification in the form of a drink and the second in the form of lust fulfilled.

The Soda Works building was constructed in 1852 and is one of the oldest buildings in Placerville. Soda water was bottled using a carbonation machine — which is still on display — and sold to miners because ordinary water was polluted due to the placer mining in the area. The building is still open today and over the years it has seen many different types of businesses inside its doors. I had the opportunity to enter the tunnel that still remains open at the back of the building. It is narrow and has cold rock along the edges. The ceiling is so low that I had to stoop to keep from banging my head. There's a cool draft as you proceed deeper into the dark. I imagine it might have been an unnerving experience for the men who walked through it to get to the Chinese bordello. Up until a couple of years ago when there was a rockslide at the bordello end, the tunnel was still fully functional. The tunnel started at one end of town and went nearly the entire length of Placerville’s Main Street, inside a mountain of rock. If you didn’t know about the tunnel carved inside the mountain, you'd never suspect it was there.

I stepped inside the building that was formerly the bordello several years ago to have a video copied. It was the current business operating in the building. The owner showed me their historical holes. I wish I had taken photos, but at the time didn’t think to do it. Along a hallway there were niches about five foot long and maybe 2 1/2 to 3 feet deep cut into a rock wall. It is rumored that when the men finished with their drinks at the Soda Works, they would walk the length of the tunnel to visit the bordello. I'm not sure how long that walk was, but I’d guess at least a quarter of a mile. When the gentleman reached the end of his walk, he was expected to shower before spending time with the girl in that small cubbyhole. What can I say except that they had to be tough and they had to be a bit desperate. The saving grace of visiting the girls in that manner was that nobody knew who was visiting, if that was something a person wanted to keep to himself.

Charles Kirkpatrick, Jr. - Emigrant, Writer, Surgeon Major

Written by Paisley Kirkpatrick

My great-great grandfather, Dr. Charles Alexander Kirkpatrick, kept a journal during his adventurous travel by wagon train across the country in 1849. Written with such eloquence, it is on microfilm and sealed in a glass container and kept in an air tight room in the Bancroft Library at the University of California, Berkeley, California. Its size is about 9 x 12 inches and its cover is of leather, which is tattered and very delicate due to its age. There are a total of forty hand-written pages. It was willed to the Bancroft Library so others could read about the adventurous early California pioneer.

An excerpt from my great-great grandfather's journal:

"This morning we again started on our journey and at 2 p.m. we had the best view of the train that we have had since we started. The road, in order to keep on good ground, forms a complete letter 'S'. In the middle of the letter, as it were, is a very high front from which a person can see the road and the wagons as far as the eye could distinguish objects. Within the range of this letter could be distinguished and counted with the naked eye 100 teams, all bound on the fool's errand to California. In this company might be seen the old gray-headed man who had almost numbered his three score and ten - the mother with the babe on her breast - the blushing girl of 16, but who by the time she had reached California will have lost the maiden blush by the association with the course vulgarity with which she is surrounded. It is useless to speak of particular characters, for every description from the reverend priest to the low footpad may be found enroute for California. And pain, disease and death also accompany us and, first one and another of our company are silently laid by the roadside to wait the summons of the Judgment day. And yet this makes no impression upon the survivors. The next day appears as though nothing had happened."

At the point of his adventure from St. Joseph, Missouri, to the gold fields of California, Charles was well-educated and already had his degree as a doctor of medicine. His handwriting was a beautiful script and written by a man with high morals and consideration of his fellow man.

Becoming rich in the gold fields didn't materialize, so he returned to the practice of medicine. He married and moved to Rio Vista, California, where he practiced his profession, had a pharmacy, and was also the postmaster of the town.

This is the can Surgeon Major Kirkpatrick kept his belongs in during the Civil War.

He kept his epilates on top inside the can.

In the photo below are all the objects inside the can.

When the Civil War broke out he volunteered as a surgeon in the army from October 15, 1861 to October 15, 1865, and was stationed at Fort Mason, San Francisco, California and Fort Douglas, Utah as a Surgeon Major.

After the war he became one of the leading doctors in San Francisco and Redwood City, California. In order to raise his family in a more favorable atmosphere he had built a lovely ten room home in Redwood City. It was considered a fine modern home at the time.

One of the many interests Dr. Kirkpatrick had was acting. He and his friends performed plays which were presented in their spacious home in Redwood City. Elaborate costumes were made and worn by the cast members. One of his associates was Mrs. Brown, a survivor of the Donner Party. Another friend, sculptor Douglas Tildon, made the famous Mechanic Statue which is displayed on Market Street in San Francisco.

My grandfather, Arthur Rowell Kirkpatrick, Jr., was born in this elaborate house and was delivered by his own grandfather, Charles Kirkpatrick on May 24, 1891. Dr. Kirkpatrick died in St. Luke's Hospital in San Francisco on April 27, 1892.

Ghosts Still Haunt the Site of the California Gold Rush

By Paisley Kirkpatrick

I've been enjoying all of the ghosts stories posted this past week. We used to live in a community that is known for its gold rush ghosts. In fact, the art gallery I worked in had its own resident ghosts so I am definitely a believer.

The gallery was housed in a renovated building located in Placerville, California. The building dated back to 1851. Originally it was called the 49er Corner Saloon and to this day a creek runs under the building. My first inclination of a live-in ghost was when I heard heavy footsteps overhead. I wouldn't have thought anything of it except all the tenants who worked above the art gallery were away for Christmas holiday. A man's footsteps walked back and forth; doors slammed. I mentioned this occurrence to my boss. She went upstairs and checked the entire floor. She found nobody. The next year around the Christmas holidays it happened again. Then a few months later, we found one of our wastebaskets missing. There were three gray and one pink left together in the middle of the backroom after we'd emptied them. In the morning, the pink wastebasket was missing and was never found. One of my jobs was to print out tags and tape them on the wall next to each painting. One morning I found all of the tags in the middle of the room on the carpeted floor and several paintings hung crooked on the wall. The final blow was when my boss and another clerk were working behind the counter on one side of the gallery. Across the room, a six-foot tall ceramic vase slammed against the wall hard enough to break into several pieces and the mahogany table that was next to the vase had a leg badly scratched. The ghost had turned violent for the first time. My boss called in a ghost expert and she worked her trade well. The ghost never came back after her visit.

Across the street from the art gallery is The Cary House Hotel, built in 1857. I have used this hotel in several of my books in the Paradise Pines Series. The inside has been kept in the same décor as it was when it was built. The hotel boasts of having two ghosts. The former television show that explored haunted places in the U.S. spent twenty minutes exposing Stan. I did encounter Stan when I was going upstairs to gather information for my stories. The owners have added an elevator to the hotel and it is kept inside a closet. We tried to open the door but it was stuck. The manager told me Stan wasn't happy about us intruding so we walked up the stairs. On the way down, there was no problem. The door slid open and we got our ride. It is rumored that Stan loved women and possibly the men as well. To this day he checks each doorknob in the hotel to make sure the guests are safely locked inside. He also rides the elevator up and down most of the night. Stan was the clerk in the lobby for many years. He was a short, stocky man with reddish brown hair, balding on the top and not what most people would consider a 'ladies' man. He did his job politely until alcohol took effect, loved gossip, and checking people out of the hotel. Sometimes he was insulting and sarcastic. He apparently made a pass at a man, the man stabbed him twice in anger, and Stan fell down the stairs to his death.

The hotel has many ghost sightings and it draws people to tempt their fate with the ghosts. Several other buildings in town are haunted. One day while I was taking notes in the Hangman's Bar I saw a tall man with a long black coat and tall black hat walk out of the women's bathroom. He reminded me of what Abraham Lincoln looked like. He just dissolved a few feet in front of me. No, I had not been imbibing.

We have moved from the Placerville area so I no longer watch for ghosts. They give the town a sense of the past and a bit of mystery.

Declan Grainger, the hero in my Night Angel story, was the owner of Chaumers Hotel, which I modeled after The Cary House. Chaumers Hotel took on a life of its own, but as far as I know no ghosts live there...yet.

http://amzn.com/B00909PON0

The Incredible World of Gold Rush Ghosts written by Nancy Bradley and Robert Reppert give a great accounting of all the ghosts living in this area. I recommend it to anyone with a ghostly imagination.

Wheelbarrow John Returns to Old Hangtown

By Paisley Kirkpatrick

The El Dorado Republican and Nugget got out a special edition in honor of the occasion of John Studebaker returning to Placerville, California, fifty-nine years after he left the gold rush town. (April 1907)

More than fifty-nine years ago a gaunt youth of nineteen stepped down from an emigrant wagon and took his first look around at the country where he had come to make a fortune. In his pocket was a lone 50-cent piece. Today a kindly-faced aged man stepped from a luxurious automobile and looked around him at the area where he had laid the foundation for his fortune. It was J.M. Studebaker returning to take perhaps his last look at the scenes of his early struggles.

The auto had drawn up in front of the Ohio House where on the wooden porch stood a score of grizzled men. As Studebaker stepped down from his auto he spied a face in the crowd. ''Hello Newt, you around here yet?" he said, by way of salutation.

"Yes, I'm here yet," answered Newton T. Spencer with his Missouri drawl, "but they call me judge now, Mr. Studebaker, ye see I'm the Justice of the Peace."

"Huh! What did you ever know about law when you and Hank Monk used to stop in the road and decide with your fists which of your stages was going to back up to let the other pass?" exclaimed Studebaker in jocular tone.

"And you, too, Charley Von Weidierwachs, where's that rip-snortin' Jayhawk, Blackhawk, Mohawk father of yours?" asked Studebaker, shaking hands with a bent figure, beneath whose black hat hung locks of silver gray.

"City clerk Weatherwax, if you please," he drew himself up with a mock show of pride, "that name bothered me worse than all tarnation, so I had to change it."

"Well, this town hasn't changed," Studebaker paused to glance about him as he shook hands with the men who were young and full of hope when he first came here.

"And where's Mike Mayer, one of the men who worked with me?" he asked.

Studebaker was told. A few minutes later he was driven up to a white painted cottage and was shown inside. His visit must be brief, he knew.

"Is that you, Wheelbarrow John?" a tremulous voice asked the question as a thin and emaciated hand came out from beneath the coverlet and groped for a hand to press in greeting.

"Yes, it's I, Mike," answered Studebaker, as he looked into the sightless eyes and drawn face of Michael Mayer.

There was feeling in his voice as Studebaker said, "I must go now, Mike."

They clasped hands for a minute more -- these two relics of the days of 1849 -- one worth millions and the other -- well, not so rich.

Before Studebaker would sit down to the banquet in honor of his return to Hangtown he must see some of the old places he knew. He saw not many. Hangtown was swept by the fire while he was here in the early days; it was destroyed again many years after he left. But the old-timers who rode alongside of him pointed out the place where he went to work for Joe Hinds to make wheelbarrows for $10 each.

The dining room of the Ohio House where the banquet was served had been elaborately decorated. The tables held bouquets of wild flowers, and the walls of the room were banked with yellow poppies against a solid background of ferns. The menu card, on which was emblazoned a picture of a man swinging from a tree, and another representing a man with overalls in boots trundling a wheelbarrow load of gold, was printed after the manner of pioneer typography, the clever imitation winning compliments for the craftsmen of the Placerville "Republican and Nugget office." The catalogue of eatables was replete with early-day references.

CHUCK LIST:

Chili Gulch Rib Warmer

Sluice Box Tailings, flavored with Chicken

High-grade Olives

Spanish Flat Onions

Cedar Ravine Radishes

Coon Hollow Pickles

Sacramento River Salmon paved with cheese

Indian diggings Spuds

Tertiary Moisture

Slab of Cow from the States

Bandana Fries with Bug-juice

Lady Canyon Chicken, Hangtown dressed

Webbertown Murphy's Shirt-tailed Bend Peas

Dead Man's Ravine Asparagus

Cemented Gravel a la emigrant Jane

Butcher Brown Fizz Water

Assorted Nuggets

Amalgam Cheese, Riffle Crackers

Mahala's Delight en tasse

Texas Hill Fruit

Pay Day Smokes

Hard Pan Smokes