Chapters 9-12
Early Days at the Mission San Juan Bautista - Chapters IX-XII
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CHAPTER IX
Road Supervisors had little money to do road-work with--Hodgdon who had
the fire bell placed on his grave--The killing of Andrew Barker.
IT WILL BE remembered that at that time there was imposed upon all
citizens a two dollar school poll tax and a road poll tax. The citizens
could get out of paying cash on the road poll tax by working on the roads.
Accordingly, one can well imagine what sort of work and how much work
could be gotten out of a party of citizens whiling away their time on the
roads to save the two dollar poll tax. The wage, in those days, was two
dollars per day. There was very little road money to be secured and the
roads were extremely bad; muddy in winter, mud so thick and heavy that you
could not get through it with the team; and, in the summer, two or three
inches of stifling dust.
Mr. Abbe, as the road supervisor, was the recipient of many kicks and
complaints regarding the condition of the roads. He always met these
growls with patience, and did the best he could on the roads with the
meager pittance allowed him by the county. I doubt that Mr. Abbe had
enough money at one time to properly condition a single mile of road.
He had four sons: Frank, who after his graduation from school, taught
school in San Juan. (This son possesses the distinction of being the only
school-teacher in the U.S.A., who graduated, a full-fledged printer, in
two weeks from the weekly Free Lance office, in Hollister, when it was
conducted by W. B. Winn. Frank says his rapidity in learning the printing
trade was due to his splendid foreman, one Jas. G. Piratsky).
George, Charles and Fred Abbe were Andrew Abbe's other sons. Charles lives
somewhere on the San Benito river on his
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ranch, and Frank, George and Fred now constitute the Abbe firm of San
Juan, which conducts one of the largest general merchandise stores in San
Benito county. Frank Abbe founded the Abbe Company after he retired from
teaching school.
Andrew Abbe had several daughters. One of these daughters married E. A.
Pierce who had settled in the San Juan Canyon, and had a beautiful home
there. The youngest daughter married the son of San Juan's pioneer hotel
man, Angelo Zanetta.
Next to the Abbe home, on the left-hand side of First Street, was the home
of Vick McGarvey who, for many years, was assessor of Monterey county.
McGarvey had quite an extended tract of land well down the hill.
Let me remark right here that San Juan occupies the unique position of
being on an elevation from which water runs down on all sides. You can't
call it a hill on which the town is located. It seems to me to be rather a
throw-off from the surrounding hills in order to make one of the prettiest
sites imaginable for a town.
After Mr. McGarvey sold his place it was occupied by Chas. Goodrich, Greg
Sanchez and others. In 1868 part of the land was bought for school
purposes.
Next to the McGarvey home, part of which was sold, for school purposes,
there was a large vacant place which was also eventually acquired by the
school district. This property, in the early days, was built on by W. G.
Hubbard. The place was afterwards occupied by Arthur Graham, who married
Fanny Canfield. Mr. Graham, later, ran a butcher shop in San Juan. He was
also a member of the San Juan fire department, and, at one time, ran the
Plaza Hotel. Mr. and Mrs. Graham died in their San Juan home within a day
of each other, both dying from typhoid pneumonia.
Next to the Graham home was the home of Sam Clark.
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Somewhere along that side of the street there lived, at one time, Bill
Burnett, afterwards known as the only sheriff of San Benito county that
ever made money out of the office.
I think Morris Sullivan also lived in one of the houses along that side of
the street.
Well back from First Street on the left hand side, lived Jas. Emmons.
There was an old building attached to Emmons' place, it was there before
my family moved to San Juan and whilst it was occupied by many people and
families I cannot now recall their names.
Next to Emmons' place came the residence of Judge Jas. F. Breen, who
served several years as superior judge of San Benito county. Judge Breen's
home on this tract was a very large, commodious and handsome structure. It
was built for him by Con Hickey, when Judge Breen married Jas. McMahon's
daughter Kate.
Judge Breen owned, down in the river bottom, some two hundred acres of
land which eventually he set out to pears.
After the Breen's property there was no further habitation and First
Street terminated at a fence attached to the corner of the mission
building.
Retracing our steps across First Street, after the Bigley home, coming
towards town, there was a vacant lot. Eventually this lot was built on by
Chas. Mitchell, a brother-in-law of Dr. Thomas Flint.
On the block between First, Second, North and Church Streets there was a
building that was erected by John Hunt, somewhere around 1858-1859.
Hunt was a blacksmith and had a shop there, but he did not stay in San
Juan long.
Mrs. Nidever, a widow, occupied the Hunt place for a long time afterwards.
There were no more buildings on the right hand side of First Street up to
its termination against the mission building.
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We now take up Second Street from its beginning. North, on the west side
of Second Street, between North and Church Streets, there was a building
occupied by Major McMichael. It was built there somewhere along 1859-60.
Mr. McMichael, who purchased the ranch on the road north of town, was a
cattle man who had come over to the mission town from the San Joaquin
Valley. After living on his ranch for awhile he moved into town and built
this home. His wife is still alive and is living on this same place with
her daughter, Annie.
Miss McMichael is postmistress of San Juan, having been appointed to that
office during the administration of Cleveland, and notwithstanding the
changes of presidents no one has ever attempted to displace her. At one
time, during a Republican administration, a San Juanite intimated that he
would like to be appointed to the office, but Hon. Thos. Flint, Jr., who
at that time was one of the leading Republicans in the State, emphatically
said "no" to such a proposition, and Miss McMichael remained undisturbed.
She still holds the office, giving excellent service, and she is
universally beloved.
On the west side of Second Street, on the corner of Church Street there
was a church building in the later '50's. This church belonged to the
Methodist Church South.
On the east side of Second Street, on the corner of Monterey Street was a
residence, in the early '50's, which was occupied by a family by the name
of Moore. This was in 1855 or 1856.
On the same side of Second Street, on the southeast corner of Tuolumne and
Second Streets, there was a residence occupied by W. E. Lovett.
Continuing further on the same side of Second Street on the southeast
corner of Jefferson and Second Streets, there was a residence occupied by
the Edmondson family. Mr. Edmondson was a cattle man who settled there but
did not remain in San Juan long. He sold this property afterwards to W. G.
Hubbard, a blacksmith.
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Edmondson owned the east half of the block, and on the west half of the
same block there resided John Silk and Roscoe Hodgdon. The latter
conducted a carpenter shop in San Juan.
Mr. Hodgdon was a member of the fire department. The fire department at
one time bought a bell and this bell was left on the front porch of Mr.
Hodgdon's residence. Unfortunately Hodgdon used to go on "periodicals" and
one night coming home late, in a spirit of exhiliration, he struck the
bell with a hand-axe and the impact broke the bell. The firemen were
justly indignant, and at a called meeting it was moved and carried that
Mr. Hodgdon pay for the bell.
Hodgdon did so and announced that as the bell was his he wanted it placed
at the head of his grave. At his burial the firemen placed the coffin on
the fire truck and with a band of music playing a burial dirge proceeded
to the cemetery. So, if any of my readers desire to view the last resting
place of Roscoe Hodgdon they can find it easily by noting the bell at the
head of a certain grave in the cemetery on the road to "The Rocks,"
outside of San Juan.
Between Jefferson and San Jose Streets, on the west side of Second Street,
there formerly was an old barn. The east side of this block was occupied
by Hubbard's blacksmith shop. Hubbard's blacksmith shop was quite an
institution in those days. I remember, it had, at one time, three fires
running, day after day. It also comprised a carriage making and paint
shop.
The paint shop was run by Jack Nagel, who was hired by Hubbard. Nagel was
a very fine artist, or, I should say, mechanic, in his line. He was
afterwards employed by the Overland Stage Company to keep its stages
freshly painted and neat looking.
All iron work was forged by hand and dressed in a vise with files, being
fashioned for fine buggies, spring wagons and freight wagons. Horseshoes
were also forged. The blacksmith would cut up a piece of iron, turn it
into a shoe on the anvil,
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cut a groove in it and punch the nail holes in it. Nails were bought then
but they all had to be pointed by hand. Usually two men, or helpers as
they were called, assisted with sledge hammers in the shaping.
It was in front of this shop, on Second Street, that the old plaza cannon
was blown up.
One of Hubbard's employes, a blacksmith, had an argument the night before
with a companion, and the argument took a turn involving the question of
whether or not the old cannon could be "busted." Hubbard's employe claimed
it could, and so the next morning early (about five o'clock) he put in an
extra heavy charge and plugged the cannon with sand. After getting the
cannon properly prepared for the "bust-up," the man took a long stick and
attaching his lighted cigar to the end of it, stood off some distance and
touched the glowing end of the cigar to the vent hole. The man remembered
no more for some time for the concussion of the cannon knocked him
northeast by southwest, and it was about twenty minutes before he came to
and inquired, "Where was I?" No one could answer the question.
A piece of this cannon went through the roof of the residence of Jas.
McMahon, over two blocks away, tearing a big hole in the roof. Pieces of
the cannon were picked up all over town, in fact, it was smashed to
smithereens. Strange to relate, however, the man was uninjured.
After that we had to use anvils for our celebrations--the old cannon was a
thing of the past.
On the opposite side of Second Street, on the corner of Second and San
Jose Streets, John Geaster built the National Hotel in 1858. It was a
three-story building. The upper story, being drawn in closer than the main
building, made the top story somewhat narrower. For that reason it was
made into a hall. This hall was used as a lodge room for Texas Lodge, F. &
A.M. The reason the San Juan Bautista Masons
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adopted the name "Texas," I am told, was due to the fact that the majority
of the members comprising the lodge were from Texas.
Downstairs there was a large bar and billiard room on one side, with a
hall above for dancing and small shows. Off from this hall was the dining
room and wash room. The wash room had in it a long sink, with tin basins
and roller towels. The bedrooms were small with a commode, a wash bowl,
pitcher for water, a towel and perhaps one or two chairs. In some of the
rooms there was a small stand whereon to place a candlestick containing a
candle.
There were no toilets or bathrooms in those days. Bathing was a somewhat
lost art. It was remarked about several prominent citizens that they went
without a bath for a year.
Across San Jose Street on the corner of Second and San Jose Streets, there
was a long wooden building which, in my early recollection of San Juan,
was occupied as a merchandise store, it being conducted by a man by the
name of Strode. It had been used, originally, as a school-house and then
the post-office was installed there, in fact, the building had been used
for many purposes. In after years, until 1863, it was run as a saloon,
when Fred Kemp bought it from Bill Arnold. Bill Arnold was afterwards shot
and killed in the Temple Saloon, in the Hildreth block, in Watsonville, by
Chas. O'Neil.
It was in this saloon, while it was being conducted by Fred Kemp, that Vic
McGarvey shot and killed Andrew Barker. Andrew Barker resided on a lot on
the north end of Third Street. He had accumulated about $5,000 which he
had buried in the yard of his home. One day, after an extended absence
from home, he went to look at his buried treasure and found it gone. He
was wild over his loss. He had an Indian woman working for him in the
house and in his rage he went so far as to hang her in order to make her
confess to the theft. She knew nothing about it, and after torturing the
woman he cut her down and released her.
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Barker went to San Francisco and consulted a medium. The soothsayer told
him the money was taken by a light-haired man who lived within sight of
his home. Vic McGarvey lived on First Street on rather high ground, and
having light hair, answered the description given by the medium. When
Barker returned he accused McGarvey of taking his money. He swore he would
kill McGarvey, on sight, the next time that they met. Barker was always
armed with a pistol and bowie knife. He had a violent temper, and was very
quarrelsome at all times, especially if under the influence of liquor. He
was a civil engineer.
McGarvey, instead of going home to get a pistol, went to Monsieur Durin, a
nearby French gunsmith, and borrowed a shotgun and had Durin load the
weapon with powder and buckshot, telling the gunsmith he desired the loan
of the gun to kill some wild animals. Putting the gun on his shoulder he
went straight to Kemp's saloon. As he entered he saw Barker opposite the
door, seated in a chair apparently reading a newspaper, but in reality
looking over its top, watching the door.
McGarvey said, "I am armed! Defend yourself!"
As Barker arose, McGarvey shot him, the buckshot penetrating Barker's
breast, when Barker, after receiving the shot, partially turned around,
McGarvey let him have the other loaded barrel of the gun in the back.
Barker was killed instantly.
McGarvey was tried for the killing and was acquitted.
Sometime afterwards there was a story current to the effect that it was
Barker's wife that dug up the money and hid it in another place, fearing
that Barker's cache might be discovered by some thief. When Barker
discovered his loss and got into such a rage over it, fearing that he
would kill her, his wife remained silent. I cannot vouch for the
authenticity of this story.
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Fred Kemp was a very fine man. He was quiet and unassuming, and treated
everyone alike. His saloon was more like a club than a barroom. All of the
best men in the district would repair there to enjoy an evening or talk
over business together. It did not matter who they were, from governor to
constable or commanding officer to low private, at some time or another
they would all be found at Kemp's saloon. Farmers would congregate to talk
about their crops; cattle and sheep men always were to be found there
discussing their flocks and prospects. There was never any rowdyism
allowed about the place. Kemp never encouraged the buying of liquor and
was never known to sit in on a game of cards. He always had a kind word
for everyone. His hospitality was known far and wide. A staunch Democrat,
he never talked politics, and accordingly Republicans and Democrats,
alike, would make his saloon their headquarters. No one could ever say
that Fred Kemp got a nickel dishonestly.
He lived in the same block on which his saloon was located. His store-
house was always well filled, as he bought goods in San Francisco,
wholesale.
A stranger arriving in town and inquiring for certain parties would be
immediately told to "go down to Fred Kemp's saloon and ask Fred about
them. He will tell you where they are to be found!"
His wife is still alive and is still living in the old home with her son,
Fred, who is now county supervisor of the San Juan district. Fred has
built many dwellings on the block and is a very enterprising young man.
On the east side of Second Street, across from Kemp's on the corner of San
Jose and Second Street, was the Church building bought by Leon Bullier and
occupied by him as a dwelling and barber shop.
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CHAPTER X
Some noted characters that lived in San Juan in the early days--Luis
Chavez, the bandit--The great rainfall in 1862-- The San Juan Canyon.
NEXT TO this place, east, on Second Street, was Victor Jerbet's place. Mr.
Jerbet had a small vineyard of three or four acres and made both red and
white wine. He had a small saloon in the front of his place where he
retailed the products of his vineyard.
Then came the mission church property which extended up to the plaza. The
church owned seventeen acres which embraced not only the land on which the
church was located, but eleven or twelve acres of an orchard on the river
bench below.
On the west side of Second street, between Mokelumne and Polk Streets, on
the corner of Polk and Second Streets, was located the residence of Jas.
McMahon.
The Masonic building, on the corner of Mokelumne and Second Streets, was
erected years later.
On the west side of Second street, between Mariposa and Polk streets, was
the home of the Carreagas, a noted Spanish family in San Juan's early
days.
On the corner of Second and Mariposa streets there was erected a wooden
building in which was conducted a drug store, stationery store,
postoffice, express office and a telegraph office--they were all combined
in the one business enterprise. The store was conducted by Thos. Magner,
who married into the Carreaga family. The store, was run by different ones
in the same line of endeavor one of whom was R.H. Brotherton. "Bob," as he
was familiarly known, was one of the finest looking men I ever saw. In
those days there was no such title
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bestowed upon anyone as "Mr." It was Bob, Henry, Frank, or John, as the
case might be. "Bob" Brotherton was not only a first-class druggist but an
expert telegrapher as well. He was a man who possessed a fine education.
I remember an incident in which he figured.
At one time the cattle on the plains of the San Joaquin Valley were quite
numerous and they had a habit of alleviating their itchiness by rubbing
their sides against the telegraph poles. Owing to the constant repetition
of this rubbing a number of these poles were laid low. Brotherton was
notified by the head office, in San Francisco, of the condition of
affairs, and asked to repair the line between San Juan and Visalia.
Visalia is one of the oldest towns in the San Joaquin Valley.
Brotherton, starting out on his journey, could find no one to help him.
Finally, on the other side of the Pacheco Pass, he fell in with a number
of vaqueros and by liberally supplying them with liquor, got them to
consent to go with him. They did so and Brotherton repaired the line in
short order. When Brotherton sent in his bill for the work, there was an
item thereon in which "refreshments" were charged some forty or fifty
dollars. The head office could not make out how any man could get away
with forty or fifty dollars' worth of refreshments, and so "Bob" was
summoned to San Francisco to explain. "Bob" told the hi-muck-a-mucks that
"refreshments" stood for liquor that he had supplied his employes with in
order to retain their services. The magnates went up in the air and when
they came down, told "Bob" that henceforth, and hereafter, under no
circumstances to ever itemize liquor on a bill as "refreshments." To
always be sure and call it "hardware!"
Brotherton married Miss Lucy Canfield, of the Canfield family, and
subsequently taught school, and whilst teaching school he studied law and
was graduated, and became one of the leading lawyers in the state. He, at
one time, practiced law in Hollister. I remember that he was considered an
authority,
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even the late Hon. M.T. Dooling, judge of the federal court, and N.C.
Briggs, another leading Hollister attorney, after cogitating over a
certain law point decided to go to "Bob" Brotherton and ask him about it.
Poor "Bob," his last days were truly pitiful, as a disease that afflicted
him made him, indeed, a miserable object. Many regrets were expressed at
his death, for everyone who knew him admired his brilliancy and learning.
Adjoining this drug store, on the west on Second street, was a residence
occupied by Pedro Carlos. Carlos was the son-in-law of Manuel Larios. He
was a barber and had a shop in the same building in which he resided. He,
at one time, owned a home on an elevation on the road to Sargent station
known as the McKee place. It is still in the possession of some of the
McKee heirs.
Pedro Carlos will go down into history as the inventor of the card game
"pedro." He, in his leisure moments, would derive great pleasure from card
playing and finally he evolved the game of pedro, which game is now played
throughout the United States. But few people realize that pedro was
invented in San Juan.
Another game popular in early days, in San Juan, was pitch seven up.
Carlos enlarged this game by adding the five spot of trumps.
On Mariposa street the thoroughfare runs down alongside of the Plaza Hotel
and between Second and Third Streets was a two-story residence building
owned by the Carreagas.
The two Carreaga brothers, Juan and Ramon, owned, at one time, six-hundred
acres across the San Benito river between the Sanchez grant and the San
Justo grant. This land is now owned by the heirs of Patrick Breen.
One of the Carreaga boys married a daughter of Buenaventura, the latter
was a Frenchman and was married to a Borondo. He came to San Juan in the
early days, was a cobbler by trade, and lived on Fourth street on a place
embracing
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four or five acres, which extended along Washington street. He had a small
vineyard on this place.
After the Carreaga boys, Juan and Ramon, disposed of their property in and
near San Juan, they moved to Santa Maria and at that place became very
wealthy; oil eventually being discovered on the lands that they owned
there.
We have remarked, heretofore, that Andrew Abbe had a great deal to do with
looking after the roads and streets in that district. While engaged in
leveling off Second street his plow turned up forty or fifty dollars in
old Mexican coins. Some of them dating back to 1600. They were all sold at
a big premium as they were valuable as keepsakes and souvenirs.
This is all that I remember of the buildings that were scattered here and
there in the early days, throughout what is known as San Juan Bautista
Mission.
At this point it occurs to me to mention some of the noted characters that
I remember in those early days. One was a Mexican by the name of Morales.
He was a splendid musician and excelled on the violin; with the guitar to
accompany him he furnished all the dance music for the fiestas and dances
in that section. He was a general favorite with everybody. No one could
surpass the dance music that he gave. Morales' trade was the manufacture
of spurs and bridle-bits, and in that line he had no rival. He always
turned out first-class work. He was an expert at inlaying spurs and bridle-
bits with silver.
Another character that I remember was Ramon Cheverria, a bronco buster.
There was no horse that was too wild for Ramon to tackle. He was the one
always selected to ride the wild bull at the annual June 24th fiesta, each
year. He became a first-class billiardist and it took an expert handler of
a billiard cue to defeat him.
Recollection brings back to me another character whom I forgot to mention
in going along Third Street in my "ramblings." This was Mondregon, a
Spaniard, who kept a store on
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the east side of Third Street near Bowie's bakery. He was a saddle-maker
and could make, out of leather, any article required by horsemen. In his
line, he too, was an expert, and as such was known far and wide throughout
the state. He carried a stock of Mexican saddles, bridles, lariats and
quirts.
Let me interject right here that Byrd Harris was the first child born in
San Juan, of American parents. This is in response to a query made some
time ago.
At the end of "The Alameda," going toward home, on the right, there was,
then, a wooden building built of split redwood in 1855. This building and
land was afterwards acquired by Sylvester Wilcox. After buying this
building Wilcox repaired it and lived there with his wife, until they both
died. Part of the old building may be seen there yet. They left the
property to their son and daughter, Joseph and Adi Wilcox, who still
occupy the place.
Opposite this holding, across the road, was another small building,
similarly constructed, occupied by a Frenchman whose name I cannot
remember. This Frenchman had a vegetable garden there.
At the forks of the present road, going to Hollister and Salinas there
lived, in a small house, Rafael Hernandez and his wife. Mrs. Hernandez was
an Albino, white-haired and near-sighted. She was a passionate lover of
flowers and had the prettiest flower garden in that section. The place was
enclosed by a high picket fence. I longingly looked at these flowers, many
a time, going and coming from school, but looks availed me nothing, for
Mrs. Hernandez guarded her floral treasures with vigilance. She never gave
me a single flower although I longed so much for them. Rafael Hernandez
was a vaquero of the old school, and in after years was a rider for the
Flint, Bixby Co., on the range.
Opposite the Hernandez place, in a low crudely constructed habitation,
dwelt the Chavez family. One of Chavez' sons
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became the notorious Chavez, a member of the Vasquez robber band, and was
killed, towards the close of Vasquez' career, in southern California.
At the turn, the road ran across the creek, which was parallel to the
present Hollister place. The water from this creek came from the San Juan
canyon, and in the year 1862 this creek overflowed. This overflow
deposited an immense number of willow plants which afterwards caused my
father much labor and expense to grub out. The creek ran up to the main
road that went directly east.
On the road, leading up to the canyon, there was a large two-story adobe
house. Part of this building had been used as an old Spanish mill, the
mill stones are there yet. I do not remember who built it or occupied it
first, but at the time that I am talking about (1855-1860) this adobe was
occupied by Lorenzo Twitchell, son of Joshua Twitchell, the man from whom
my father bought our place.
On the road towards my father's place, on the west side, there was a
building right next to the road occupied by William Stingley. Stingley, in
partnership with my father, bought that place from Joshua Twitchell, great-
grandfather of Doctor A. R. Lawn, the chiropractor, now practicing his
profession in Watsonville.
Afterwards my father and Stingley divided the land--my father taking the
land on the east of the line, one hundred and fifty-five acres, and
Stingley took the western portion. Subsequently, in some sort of a trade,
Joshua Twitchell acquired the Stingley property and lived there for years.
In later years Stingley was killed by being struck by a redwood tree,
whilst working under the foremanship of the late ex-supervisor Jas. A.
Linscott, of Santa Cruz county, at the Game-Cock lumber camp, above
Corralitos.
As years passed the various bends in the road were straightened out and
the road was fixed up so as to connect with the
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San Juan canyon road. There was no road to Monterey from this direction.
This road, that I have just described in its entirety, is the road that I
traversed going to school.
We will now take in the San Juan canyon road. Let me here remark that the
San Juan canyon, in the early days, was one of the most picturesque spots
in that section, and today it is worth anyone's time to visit this truly
sylvan retreat, although, to a large extent, its beauty has been somewhat
marred by the development made in the canyon by the San Juan Cement
Company.
Proceeding up the canyon, from San Juan, the first house that you
encountered was a large adobe, now gone. It has utterly disappeared and
yet, at that time, it was one of the landmarks in that vicinity. Who
erected this adobe dwelling I do not know, it looked to me as though the
land had been taken up as government land, the building erected and then
both building and claim were abandoned. However, when I knew it, this
residence was occupied by Captain Taylor, father of Bartlett Taylor, and
his wife. The Bartlett Taylor, whom in another part of this narrative I
chronicled as being shot in Louis Raggio's saloon.
The next house, going up the canyon, was occupied by the family of William
Harris, the first school teacher in San Juan. I was, for awhile, one of
Mr. Harris' pupils. He died at Stockton several years later.
Close to William Harris' residence was another home occupied by Mr.
Harris' father and mother. The Harris family were very fine people.
Proceeding on, the next place one would come to was the home of a man by
the name of Quinn. Old residents in those days used to call the place he
occupied, Quinn canyon.
Beyond the Quinn home there was a place occupied by some cattle men, I
have forgotten their names, but ultimately their holdings were acquired by
Jasper Twitchell, son of old
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man Joshua Twitchell. Mr. Twitchell built a commodious house there as he
had a large family. He beautified the place greatly. It will be remembered
that we spoke of Mr. Twitchell as having a business in San Juan. He was a
very competent wood worker.
Ultimately, when Jesse D. Carr got his land grant from the government, he
ran his survey down one mile wide, so far that it took in all the land
embraced in the canyon including some of the Flint, Bixby land, and made
it necessary for Flint and other property owners, in that canyon, to buy
their land over again from Jesse D. Carr. It is hardly necessary to remark
that some hard feelings were stored up against the aforesaid Jesse D.
Carr.
Retracing our steps to the old adobe that I mentioned and which has since
disappeared: Below this adobe, in the bed of the creek, some hundred years
before, the padres had constructed a dam and by means of a ditch leading
around the side of the hill, brought the water down onto a flat near San
Juan. At the present time San Juan is supplied by a water system from a
dam constructed a short distance above the site of this old dam. The
original dam was rudely constructed of logs thrown across the bed of the
creek in a criss-cross fashion, and filled in with adobe which, when
dried, was almost impenetrable. Old residents described the dam to me as
being a very good piece of work. However, the big flood in 1862 washed the
remainder of this dam out, and all traces of it have disappeared. Its
former site today is not easily found.
The water from this dam, when brought into town, in the early days, was
conducted to a place where was made the adobe tiles, and in time this
water made a big lake there. I remember often witnessing the drivers of
the overland stages, after discharging their passengers and before getting
ready to stable their horses for the night, driving their animals and the
stages through this lake, thereby giving both animals and vehicle a well
deserved washing.
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Near the old adobe there was, in the early days, a tunnel that ran into
the Gabilan range. The tunnel was not run in very far and its site has
long since been obliterated. The purpose for which this tunnel was driven
into the mountain could never be ascertained.
In those days horse stealing was a common offense. The Indians had no
scruples about taking someone's horses, consequently, horse owners, in
those days, built large corrals made of adobe, surrounded by a ten or
twelve foot wall, in order to keep the thieving marauders out. In this old
adobe that I have previously described there was, at the time I am
speaking of, the remains of an immense stockade of this description behind
the structure.
Page 88
[image caption: Panel Door, hand carved, leading to Balcony of Cloister in
San Juan Mission.]
Page 89
CHAPTER XI
The mysterious killing of man named Kelly, near Gilroy--Vasquez, the
bandit, comes to the front--The tragedy at Paicines--Snyder's account of
the raid.
RIGHT HERE recollection brings back to me a strange and mysterious killing
that occurred near Gilroy. This occurred in 1870. A woman by the name of
Mrs. Page came, via stage, from Watsonville to Gilroy. On arriving at the
latter place she hired a horse and buggy and started toward San Juan,
passing the Miller-Bloomfield ranch, where an employe named Kelly was
employed. She asked Kelly to take a ride with her and he accepted. There
was a cluster of willows on the side of the road between Miller's home and
the Sargent place. The woman invited Kelly to take a walk with her, at
this point, and about two hundred yards from the road she drew a pistol
and shot him through his head, and also through his heart, killing him
instantly. She left him lying there and rode back to Gilroy and gave
herself up to the authorities. At the preliminary examination Mrs. Page
testified that the reason that she killed Kelly was that he had slandered
her. She wanted him to retract the slander, he refused, and she killed
him.
The outcome of this case I do not remember but it was a big sensation in
this section of the state for a long time on account of the woman having
announced her destination as San Juan, when she hired the buggy. All of
San Juan turned out, en masse, to see if they knew her. But she was never
identified.
At this point I wish to digress and take up the career of one of
California's celebrated bandits, who certainly deserves more than a
passing notice. I allude to Tiburcio Vasquez, who,
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in 1873, was committing depredations throughout Monterey, Santa Clara and
counties south. Vasquez will go down in the annals of California crime
alongside of Joaquin Murietta, California's bandit king, in the fifties.
Vasquez, for awhile, was a very striking figure in the criminal records of
the state, and the press was full of his exploits. Inasmuch as he was well
known in San Juan and frequently came there, accompanied by some of his
confederates, one of whom was Chavez, mentioned elsewhere as being one of
my schoolmates, at San Juan, I think it might be of interest to the
readers of these memoirs that I here insert something regarding this man.
Vasquez was sent, from Los Angeles county in 1857, to the penitentiary for
horse stealing. He escaped from that prison but was soon captured and was
imprisoned until 1863.
After he was released he joined forces with two worthies by the name of
Procopio and Soto--two notorious hombres. These two men, Procopio and
Soto, were known far and wide as desperate men. Sheriff Harry Morse, of
Alameda, was on the hunt for soto to answer for some crime he had
committed. The two men met and in the gun-fight that ensued Soto was
killed.
Vasquez then organized an augmented band of desperadoes and made a raid on
Paicines, San Benito County, which I will give in full as the tragedy was
related by Mr. A. Snyder, the keeper of the store that was raided at
Paicines.
"About five o'clock p.m., of August 26, 1873, Adone Levia and Juan
Gonzales came into my store, as they had done at other times, and bought
and paid for some merchandise. They hung around the store until about
sundown at which time Wm. Burnett, driver of the New Idria stage arrived.
Being a half an hour earlier than usual that evening I changed the mail
and stepped outside to see the stage off. In five or six minutes after the
stage had left for New Idria, Vasquez, Morina and Chavez appeared in front
of the store on horses. They were armed with revolvers and rifles. They
alighted
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from their horses and tied them to the fence close up to my store porch. I
watched them closely as they were more heavily armed than at other times
when they purchased and paid for goods. I noticed, while they were tying
their horses, that Chavez had a lot of rope in his side coat pockets. They
eyed me very closely while tying up their horses.
"Mr. Lewis Smith, a neighbor, just then came up and stepped into the store
and called for a broom. I told him I did not like the looks of those
fellows outside. In a moment the three men came in, Vasquez inquiring for
a letter by some Spanish name. I stepped behind the desk to look for the
letter called for and at the same time I heard someone say in an audible
voice, `Lay down! lay down!' Finding no mail for the name called for I
turned to tell them so, when I saw my clerk, John Uzuruth, and Lewis Smith
and Henry Murray lying on the floor.
"Across the room from me stood Gonzales and Don Levia with six-shooters
aimed at me, and Morina, standing in the door with a rifle pointed at me,
ordering me to lie down, but I would not do so at first. My first impulse
was to shoot with a rifle which I had nearby, but it had but one load and
I thought of my family in an adjoining building. If I should shoot one of
the men I would be killed anyway, and possibly my family, also.
They spoke with vehemence and said that they would blow the top of my head
off, drawing a bead on me at the same time. I need not tell how large
those cylinders looked to me at that moment, but, I will say that they
seemed to grow larger every moment. I submitted and laid down behind my
desk. I will say it was the most trying thing I had ever done in my life
but it was to save my own life and that of my family that I submitted.
Vasquez tied my hands behind my back, laid me on my face and covered me
with a blanket. They tied my clerk's hands behind his back and then tied
his feet to his hands and laid him on his face. They tied Mr. Smith and
Mr. Murray the same way.
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"Vasquez then remarked, `Boys, I am sorry to treat you this way!' But if I
should try to make my living by honest work and the people should find out
who I am, they would hang me inside of a week! The only way I have to make
a living is robbing other people, and, as long as they have money, I am
going to have my share!' He also told me that he would spare my life as I
had submitted. They then commenced to pilfer the store and our pockets.
"About this time I heard Mr. Haley, who drove a four-horse team, calling
my name. I dared not answer. The bandits hit him on the head with a six-
shooter, took him off the wagon and tied him to the front wheel. They took
all the money he had and left him in that condition. He worked himself
loose but he still stood stooped over that way for fear that they would
find he was untied.
"By this time Mr. Connolly and his wife and boy came along. They were
stopped and Mr. Connolly was brought near the store and tied, then laid on
the ground. Mrs. Connolly screamed at the top of her voice and they
threatened to shoot her as they were afraid she would alarm the neighbors.
Mrs. Snyder came out and took her by the hand and led her into the house
telling her to be quiet and maybe their lives would be spared. The
Connolly boy crawled across the road on his hands and knees, climbed a
fence and crossed the river to a neighbor.
"The hostler at the barn was told to lie down, but not knowing what it
meant laughed. They hit him on the head with a gun, tied him up and took
him behind the barn.
"George Redford of Gilroy, with a four-horse team, drove up and started to
unhitch his team. They ordered him to lie down. He was hard of hearing and
ran once around his wagon and then into the stable where they shot him
through the heart.
"A Frenchaman who had stopped here with a band of sheep for the night knew
them and they knew him. While
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nearing the barn they shot at him, tearing his upper teeth out. He jumped
the fence into an adjoining field and then ran back on the store porch,
they after him. As he was running onto the porch they shot him through the
breast. I heard him fall and struggle in death.
"About this time I heard another shot in front of the hotel. Leland
Davidson, proprietor of the hotel, who was sick and was not aware of what
was going on, heard the shooting and arose from his chair, went to the
front door and had opened it partly, when his wife ran in from the rear
screaming to her husband to close the door as robbers were looting the
store. She reached up over his shoulder to close the door when Vasquez,
appearing in front, fired through the door with his rifle. The ball
entered Davidson's heart. He fell back in his wife's arms and expired.
"They then came in to where I was laying on the floor," continued Mr.
Snyder, "took me to the room where my family was congregated. They ordered
Mrs. Snyder to hand over all the money in the house, and she promised them
she would if they would spare my life. They agreed to do this.
"After getting all the money there was in the house they took me back to
the store. On the way back Chavez and Vasquez held a conversation in
Spanish. Vasquez finally told Chavez, in English, that he was captain of
this band and he was going to save my life. Taking me to the store they
laid me down on my side, my hands tied behind me, and covered me with a
blanket, then they commenced packing their horses with goods from the
store.
"From being tied so tightly my hands and arms were swollen and pained me
terribly. I made a special request for the third time to loosen the ropes.
Vasquez examined them, and saying they were too tight slackened them up
which was a great relief.
"They helped themselves to sardines, oysters, cheese, and crackers and had
a hearty supper. I asked them to hurry as
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I was hungry. They said that they were hungry, and would not go until they
had finished their lunch. When they had finished Vasquez told them to go
to the stable and bring out all of the good horses which they would drive
ahead of them. They took eleven horses from the stable, two of them mine,
and drove them off. A blind horse they killed.
"I was robbed of about $600 worth of goods, two horses, $430 in coin, my
watch and weapons. They got, altogether, from the party, about $1200 in
coin.
"When they left we got to our feet. The Smith boy, not being tied, untied
his father and Mr. Smith untied the rest of us. I went, at once, to where
my family were and they were safe. I next went to Mr. Davison's room and
found him dead and his wife crying. Returning to the store, on the porch,
lay the Frenchman, dead. Going to the barn with a lantern I found George
Redford lying dead on his face on a bale of hay in a stall.
"The next morning there was a crowd of neighbors there who had heard of
the robbing and murders.
"During the shooting Mrs. Snyder and Mrs. Sam Moore had forethought enough
to lie flat on the floor to escape the bullets that were flying around."
Thus ends the account of Vasquez' raid on Paicines as narrated by Mr.
Snyder. This murderous raid was the sensation of the entire country for
weeks after it occurred and it incited renewed efforts to run down and
capture Vasquez.
After this startling exploit Vasquez proceeded south and was finally
captured in Los Angeles. He was brought back, but San Benito county, not
having the facilities for trying him, transferred him to the San Jose
jail, and tried him in that county.
He was found guilty and hanged on March 19, 1875.
After Vasquez was hanged at San Jose his chief lieutenant, Chavez, fled to
Mexico. Information reached San Juan as to
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where Chavez was living. Louis Raggio Jr. started for New Mexico found
Chavez and in an attempt to arrest him, killed him. The state had offered
a reward of $2,500 for Chavez dead or alive and accordingly his head was
severed from his body and brought back to San Juan as proof for the
reward. Raggio put in a claim for the reward and had a great deal of
trouble over it. I do not remember whether he got the reward or not.
In 1876 I had a band of sheep pastured in Pleasant Valley, in the Coalinga
district, guarded by several sheepherders. At the time there were a great
many sheepmen in that district with their flocks. One of these sheep
owners was Geo. W. McConnell, afterwards, for years, the assessor of San
Benito county. Out of this meeting there grew an acquaintanceship and
friendship between McConnell and myself that continued until the death of
McConnell.
I suspect that George found his charming wife in the vicinity of the San
Benito store. Her maiden name was Kennedy and she lived, with her folks,
on the upper San Benito. George, driving his flocks to and from the
Coalinga and the Panoche sections, formed an acquaintance with Annie
Kennedy, and subsequently, they were married. A most charming woman was
Mrs. McConnell, who, with her husband, has long since passed away.
There were remnants of the Vasquez band traveling through that section
yet. They stole horses and cattle. Eventually these men were wiped out.
Where my sheep were pastured in Pleasant Valley was in a direct line with
the Cantua canyon, one of Joaquin Murietta's and Tubercio Vasquez'
strongholds in their days of banditry. There was another picturesque
canyon between where I was located and the Cholame Valley. In this canyon
there was another band of desperadoes that had been affiliated with
Murietta and Vasquez.
I was about three miles from my nearest neighbor. Somehow or another I
escaped. I was never preyed upon by these
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desperadoes although they passed my location, coming and going. I,
however, always felt nervous over the situation as I did not know what a
day or night might bring forth.
One morning, about six or seven o'clock, three of these desperadoes, in a
gang, rode up on horseback to my place. Each one of them had a rifle and a
six-shooter and a bowie knife in his belt. I was frightened, of course,
but I assumed a calm demeanor and asked them to alight and have some
breakfast with me. In the corner of the cabin which I occupied, was my
shot-gun, loaded with buckshot. I made up my mind that I would use that
shot-gun if anything untoward happened. A long table that we used when the
sheepherders came to shear the sheep stood between me and the robbers.
When I extended the invitation, they dismounted and came into the cabin.
Whilst I was cooking the breakfast I kept my eye on them as I did not know
what minute trouble would ensue.
I gave the desperadoes a pretty fair breakfast inasmuch as I had my own
cow and had plenty of butter and milk and the chickens that I had,
furnished me with fresh eggs. The three men ate heartily and, after
thanking me for the meal, mounted their steeds and rode away. A short
distance from my place they robbed a sheepherder of all the money he had,
also his grub.
The situation in that section was too dangerous, and I, with the rest of
the sheepmen, in the valley, made up my mind to get out of there as soon
as possible. We all did. We left there the ensuing season, which was a dry
year. Practically all the sheepmen lost their herds by starvation.
In 1877 one San Juan sheepman, Albion Baker, drove his herd of 8,000 sheep
into the high Sierras where there was pasturage. After skirmishing around
through that region, he came out in the fall with 1,000 head. He was
heavily in debt and turned over the 1,000 head to his creditors.
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CHAPTER XII
How San Juan folks lived in early days--How pioneer mothers helped their
husbands--Grain was taken to grist mill at Corralitos--My venture into the
sheep business.
HOW we lived after we settled near San Juan deserves more than passing
notice, and undoubtedly will prove of interest to those who live in the
midst of comfort and plenty nowadays.
To begin with, we raised practically all that we ate.
In Gentry county, Missouri where, out in the country, we had lived in a
log cabin (I was born in that log cabin), my mother, when preparing for
the trip overland gathered together packages of different kinds of
vegetable seeds--I often wondered, afterwards, where she got so many
different varieties. She also brought along medicinal plants, with which,
after we settled in the land of "milk and honey," she doctored the
children.
It would be well to interpolate right here that my father, with three
other young fellows, had made the trip across the plains in 1850, and
returned, via the Isthmus, to Missouri after a short stay in California in
1851. After my father's return he prepared the family for the trip
overland to the Golden State.
He informed my mother of the fertility of California's soil, its climate
and many other items that guided her in making her selection of seeds,
etc. Therefore, during our first years in the San Juan Valley, we had all
the vegetables we could eat and then some.
When my father bought the place, on the outskirts of San Juan, included in
the purchase price were a few hogs, and so, with the pork occasionally, we
had plenty of our own meat. The tea, sugar, coffee, soap and candles we
bought from the village merchants. This was not for long, however, for
before a year had passed my mother cut out the purchase of soap
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and candles, and made those two articles herself--another illustration of
the manner in which the pioneer women, who came to this state, arose to
the occasion and proved themselves veritable help-mates to their husbands.
The sugar used then was mostly China sugar, which was put up in fifty
pound mats. This sugar could be purchased at the San Juan stores. The
sugar which was somewhat dirty, left nearly always a residue of some sort
of sediment in the bottom of the cups, however, we never missed a meal if
sugar was lacking.
It was not long before the railroad was constructed across the Isthmus of
Panama and then we got New Orleans sugar, a big improvement on what we
had, originally.
I always fought for the job of going after the sugar--that is, the New
Orleans sugar. It came in large hogsheads which seemed to me must have
weighed a thousand pounds or more. The attraction in this task, for me,
was due to the fact that in the center of these hogsheads there was always
inserted a piece of sugar cane. This sugar cane reached to the bottom of
the hogshead. Now, when the storekeeper sold some of this sugar he
invariably cut off a small piece of the sugar cane and gave it to the
youngster that came after the sugar. This was a great attraction for me
for that sugar cane was seemingly the sweetest and most luscious thing
that I ever tasted.
It was the custom in those days that when the children were sent to a
store to make a purchase the child should receive a "pelon" or a "pelon
cita" which, in the Spanish, meant a present. Consequently, the youngsters
would either get a piece of candy, a sweet cracker or a slice of the sugar
cane, etc.
My father got some seed wheat and sowed a few acres to that cereal. At
that time there were thousands of squirrels on our place, in fact the
valley was infested with these rodents, and accordingly we had to commence
fighting them in order to keep them from eating the seeds when planted.
In pursuit of these squirrels I developed into a crack runner. I had a
Scotch terrier, a great playmate of mine, and if
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Mr. Squirrel got any distance from his hole in the ground, barefooted as I
was I would, with the assistance of the dog, run him down. My speed in
running was due principally to this exercise. Together with the dog, every
morning before I went to school, and again when I came home from that
institution of learning, I would make the rounds. By closely following
this practice we finally scared nearly all the squirrels out of our
fields. When the wheat seeded out we would have lost the entire crop had
it not been for myself and the dog. After that we fought them with
phosphorous and strychnine (we used to procure that mixture at San Jose)
and together with shooting and trapping, kept these pests down, but it was
years before we finally gained control of them.
In those days there were no machines wherewith to cut grain so we used a
reap hook or a cradle. My father got a cradle and cut the standing grain
and bound it. There was no way to thresh it, save to tramp it out with
horses, Spanish style. We cleaned off a place, flooded it with water, and
trampled it over and over again until the sun baked it hard. Around this
place my father built a fence with rails. My brother, who was about
sixteen, engineered this work. They would bring up a load of bundles of
grain, put them in this pen, put the horses inside of the inclosure and
then either by riding them or chasing them around would thresh out the
grain. The main part of the straw was taken up with forks which were
shaken so as to drop any clean grain off of them; then the stalks were
thrown over the fence. This process was repeated over and over again until
the grain and straw, remaining in the inclosure, was ready to be cleaned.
When the wind blew, generally in the afternoon, we would take a shovel and
throw the remainder of the straw in the air and the wind would blow the
chaff away. In that way we succeeded in getting seed and feed for the
chickens.
Some of our neighbors chipped in and got a fan mill. We would borrow this
fan mill and, by hard work, would succeed in getting out a ton of grain,
and then take this to the mill.
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Benjamin Hames had built a grist mill at Corralitos, and we would take
this grain over to him to be ground. Hames, it might be well to remark
here, was a man who had traveled extensively, had managed several
enterprises in Chile and other parts of South America, and was a very well
educated man. My brother married his daughter in 1866.
It would take two days to execute this commission. One day to transport
the grain over to Corralitos and get it ground, and the next day to
retrace our steps to San Juan.
This crop of wheat gave us our own flour which was a more superior article
than the flour we got at the store, much of which came from Chile and cost
us sixteen dollars a barrel of 196 pounds.
It was while making these trips that I first saw Watsonville. I think it
was in 1858 or 1859.
Col. Hollister had a flock of ewes pastured about half a mile from our
place. In lambing season the sheep were placed in a corral and at night
the young would sometimes lose their mothers in which case the
sheepherders would knock the lambs in the head if they could not ascertain
to which mother they belonged. I asked Col. Hollister to give me these
motherless lambs and he said he would be glad to do so. We had plenty of
milk, as we had four or five cows--one of these cows having worked under
the yoke whilst crossing the plains. I had a pretty little saddle horse
and the first morning that I struck out for the sheep pasture for any
lambs that might be due me, I had two sacks attached to the horn of my
saddle. The first morning I got three lambs. I cut holes in the sacks so
that their heads could protrude. I came home greatly elated at my good
fortune.
Thereafter I made regular trips to the pasture before I went to school,
generally getting over there about six o'clock. My fortune varied.
Sometimes I would get only one and sometimes as high as four. It was some
work to get them to drink, but my good mother helped me. Father, seeing
our dilemma,
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got a lot of cow's horns. These horns were plentiful, and could be found
almost anywhere in the valley.
Now, here was an ingenious piece of work. My father got these horns,
washed them out and cleaned them; cut off the tips and then making a
leather teat, which was attached to the tip of the horn, he put a little
hole in the leather teat and attached these horns, at intervals, along the
fence; then pouring milk into these horns it was no time at all until the
little lambs found the milk, and after that we had no trouble feeding
them. The lambs, seemingly, enjoyed their repast, for not only did they
betray the utmost satisfaction in sucking the teat, but each lamb knew his
own teat and they never made a mistake when going after refreshments. They
always returned to the same teat at which they had previously dined. Our
success and luck may be judged by the fact that in 1866 we owned eight
hundred head of sheep.
When the lambs began to increase, ere we knew it we were the owners of
about two hundred head and we could not spare the time to take charge of
them. Accordingly, my father made arrangements with two young fellows
named Hugh and Charles Daley to take over the sheep and handle them on
shares. The sheep were pastured here and there and everywhere, but, at the
time of my mother's death, they were pastured at Bird Creek. My father and
myself went over to mark the lambs and before we finished the job we
received word that mother was ill. Without finishing our task we returned
home. Mother was ill but not so ill that she was confined, as yet, to her
bed. However, four days after she died from pneumonia.
After procuring from Col. Hollister the discarded lambs it was not long
before we had plenty of meat and of good variety. We had mutton, beef and
pork.
We had a smokehouse on our place and as our killings were done principally
in the fall it resulted in lots of prime smoked meats. That was the time
when my mother made her soft soap sufficient to carry us over the greater
part of the year.
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[image caption: Arch and Door leading from Garden into Cloister, San Juan
Mission]
Early Days at the Mission San Juan Bautista - End of Chapters IX-XII