USA > California > Lassen County > Fairfield's pioneer history of Lassen County, California; containing everything that can be learned about it from the beginning of the world to the year of Our Lord 1870 Also much of the pioneer history of the state of Nevada the biographies of Governor Isaac N. Roop and Peter Lassen and many stories of Indian warfare never before published > Part 46
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"There were present of the old settlers William H. Clark, William Dow, Robert Johnston, Loyal Woodstock, Leroy Arnold, Edward Rice, Samuel R. Hall, Frank S. Strong, John Baxter, James D. Byers, William H. Crane, Dr. H. S. Borrette, E. V. Spencer, N. Clark, Dr. P. Chamberlain, David Titherington, E. G. Bangham, A. A. Smith, Dr. Z. N. Spalding, Thomas J. Mulroney, Dr. M. P. Chamberlain, J. E. Bass, and A. B. Jenison."
From the "Lassen Advocate" of March 9, 1882 "THE OLD TIMERS
"SECOND MEETING OF THE LASSEN COUNTY PIONEER CLUB
"At a meeting of the Pioneers of Lassen County, held at the Steward House Hall, March 4th, 1882, James D. Byers presided and W. H. Crane acted as Secretary.
"W. H. Crane, from the committee on Constitution and By-Laws, reported a code of laws which after some amendments, principally as to dates, was adopted.
"The following were elected officers for the first term: James D. Byers, President; E. V. Spencer and N. Clark, Vice- Presidents; Richard D. Bass, Treasurer; Wright P. Hall, Sec- retary; L. N. Breed, A. A. Smith, and Dr. Z. N. Spalding, Trustees.
"On motion of L. N. Breed a committee of Three, consisting of W. P. Hall, James P. Sharp, and William Dow, was appointed, to whom all applications for membership are to be referred."
The following became members of the Society: James D. Byers, Frank S. Strong, John C. Davis, John Baxter, Jerry Tyler, David Titherington, Dr. Z. N. Spalding, Dr. P. Cham- berlain, L. N. Breed, Dr. H. S. Borrette, N. Clark, Loyal Wood- stock, James P. Sharp, Dr. M. P. Chamberlain, A. G. Eppstein, William H. Clark, Robert Johnston, Richard D. Bass, William Dow, George W. Fry, Stephen S. Bass, John Edward Bass, Wright P. Hall, Eber G. Bangham, Thomas J. Mulroney, Albert A. Smith, Leroy Arnold, John Lowe, Jr., Ephraim V. Spencer, Samuel R. Hall, Philip Boody, Davis C. Hall, William H. Crane, and George Greeno.
Article 1 of the Constitution and By-Laws was as follows: "This organization shall be known as the Lassen County Pioneer Society."
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Article 2 was "Eligibility to membership shall consist of being a male citizen who was born or actually settled within the territory of what is now Lassen County prior to July 1st, 1860."
It will be observed that only males were considered to be pioneers. The writer didn't follow this rule, but put in the names of the women pioneers also.
THE DIVERSIONS OF EARLY DAYS
A history of the pioneer days of Lassen county would not be complete without some reference to the diversions of those times. Of course Indian fighting and Indian scares, drinking, gambling, dancing, fighting, and an occasional "shooting scrape" furnished the more strenuous joys, so to speak; but along with these were diversions of a more quiet nature.
Newspapers and books were very scarce, and instead of find- ing humor in them the settlers had to look for it among them- selves. Like all frontier countries, life was rude in many ways and very frequently their fun was rude, too. Practical joking was common and often caused trouble. Some queer characters, both wise and otherwise, drifted to the frontier, and among so few people their talk and actions were noticed more than they would have been in a more thickly settled locality. The yarns told by good story-tellers, sometimes manufactured for the occasion, the sayings of witty persons and also those of queer ones, what certain men said or did when drunk, the tricks played by the practical jokers, especially if at the expense of some unpopular man, were passed from one to another all over the country and greatly enjoyed.
Orlando Streshly, some of whose yarns have already been given, told a good many witty stories of all kinds, and he gen- erally had one to fit the occasion. If he had none in stock, he was able to "make up" one, and many of the stories he told to illustrate some condition of the times, or the peculiarity of some person's character or condition, were long remembered by the pioneers.
Dr. Robert F. Moody was another man whose stories amused and amazed the country. He came into the valley in 1861 and went into partnership with Dr. Z. J. Brown (Dr. Eight-square) in the selling of patent medicines. He afterwards bought out
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his partner and established a drug store which he owned until 1904. His daughter, Miss Opal Moody, says "Dr. Moody was a Massachusetts Yankee and not only followed his profession of druggist (he was a registered druggist), but also followed the watch-maker's trade which he had learned in Boston. Instead of being a 'Jack of all trades and good at none,' he was a sort of genius who could do anything he undertook and do it well. He was also the inventor of half a dozen patent medicines." Besides this, in his spare time he repaired guns and pistols and tinkered up whatever was brought to him, stuffed birds and beasts and pulled teeth. His best known patent medicine he called "Moody's Sage Brush Liniment," and if it had been as thoroughly advertised as some other patent medicines, would have gained a national reputation.
The doctor was a "right smart" talker and told many stories that were astonishing for size. One of them was something to this effect: While in Rhode Island he was one day soling shoes on a wager. When trimming the sole of the last shoe his knife slipped and cut off the forefinger of his left hand as clean as a whistle. Being in too big a hurry to pay much attention to any little thing like that, he picked up the finger and laid it on a shelf close at hand. When he had finished his work he stuck the finger back on his hand with some shoemaker's wax. In conclusion the doctor would tell that it grew right on again and was as good as ever, and, holding out his finger to prove it, would say "and you can't even see the scar"-and you couldn't. Dr. Moody's stories were about himself and injured nobody, and certainly were not told with the intention of deceiving any one. The writer was always of the opinion that the doctor got as much fun out of it as the listener did, and that it was a source of much amusement to him to watch the face of the person to whom he was telling the story and see what effect it had on him.
Davie Lowrie was a Scotchman who came to California in the early 50's, and after working up the Feather river, drifted into Honey Lake valley in 1857, or about that time. He was a large, strong man with a constitution like iron and an unlimited capacity for whiskey. His eyes were cold and dull, and his smooth-shaven face was as expressionless as a wooden mask. He talked a good deal, but his tongue wasn't very nimble, and between that and his Scotch brogue, it was hard work to under-
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stand him. When he was drinking his tongue was thicker than usual and he patched out his efforts to talk with "Luk, see, mon. You know what I mean," accompanied by a number of vigorous pokes in the ribs of his listener that made him wish that he was only within yelling distance. It was told that he had been educated for a minister; but if so, he must have been a "stickit minister." Davie, whether drunk or sober, very often said or did something that provoked the mirth of those around him. When in the former condition, he was at one time very abusive; but once while in Janesville he called Alec. McKissick a vile name and the latter, not knowing his age, knocked him down with a rock and kicked him in the ribs. After that Davie was more discreet in his language, especially to strangers. For several years he was very pious whenever he got drunk and attended church without fail if there was a chance to do so. His conduct while there generally delighted the worldly part of the congregation and greatly annoyed the preacher. In 1868 there was a camp meeting held for several days near Fort Janes- ville. There was a large attendance from all parts of the valley, and among the rest was Davie, who was generally "three sheets in the wind." When present he often knelt before the "mourn- er's bench" and mumbled to himself. One night a preacher who was a stranger in the valley, thinking that Davie was a pious, simple-minded fellow, asked him if he would not like to go to a better land. Lowrie said "Yes, I would like to go to Scotland." The preacher tried it again and said "But, Mr. Lowrie, wouldn't you like to go to Heaven?" The reply was, "Yes, if I could go by the way of Glasgow."
In spite of hard fare, hard work, and poor whiskey, and a slash the whole length of his jaw, made by a knife in the hands of "Uncle Tim" Darcey, Davie lived to a good old age. After he was eighty years old he did a man's work in the hay field. At last he wandered away into one of the adjoining counties and died in the county hospital of either Plumas or Sierra county.
"Uncle Tim" Darcey was another character. He, too, came to California in the early 50's, and after mining up the north fork of Feather river came to Honey Lake. Here he followed the blacksmith trade for twenty years, the rest of his life. He was born in St. Louis, Missouri, in the early part of the last century and was of Irish parentage. He was raised on the
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waterfront when St. Louis was a frontier town, and grew up to be a hard man, always ready to fight or to get drunk. He learned to be an engineer and ran on the Mississippi for a number of years during the palmy days of steamboating on that river, and it took a man to hold his own in the crowd that followed the river in those days. When in his prime he was a bad man to fool with, for he was big and strong and had a temper that flashed up like gunpowder. He would get angry in an instant, his eyes would turn green and his teeth come together like a steel trap, and he would strike a man with any- thing he happened to have in his hand at the time. He was vicious, too. Once when he and Sam. Trotter, another black- smith, were in Janesville drunk, they got into a fight. When they came together both of them fell down, and Trotter was so drunk that he could not get up or move. Tim could move his arms, so he picked up a rock, and being just able to reach one of Sam's ankles, he lay there and pounded it with the rock until some one took him by the leg and pulled him a couple of feet away. He could not crawl back and that ended the fight.
But he was naturally a man of considerable ability and force of character and had a fund of humor; and being a blacksmith, was a sort of public man in those days and very often said or did something for people to talk about. When blacksmithing at Richmond he had a little trouble with L. P. Whiting. The next time he saw Whiting coming into the place he got behind a pile of logs and pointed an old shovel handle over them. When Whiting, who was on foot, got pretty close some one yelled to him to look out. He looked and saw Darcey's head sticking up above the logs and the shovel handle pointing toward him, and then he broke and ran back "rail fence" fashion, much to the enjoyment of Tim and the crowd of loafers that usually infested the little village. Tim used to tell that while he was working at Richmond Streshly was going to have a roasted goose for his Thanksgiving dinner. The goose was cooked the day before, and he and "Old Zack" Taylor made it up that they would steal it out of the milk house where it was put for the night. A little snow fell that evening, and after the Streshly family had gone to bed Tim walked boldly to the milk house and got the goose. He then took off his shoes, put them on backwards, and carefully stepping in his own tracks, went back to the road.
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Streshly said that this was the first time he ever knew a man to go both ways and make only one set of tracks.
Old age and whiskey finally did their work and "Uncle Tim" died at Janesville in 1877.
Dr. J. W. M. (Old Doc.) Howe, who was the first man appointed to the office of County Physician in this county, was the cause of considerable talk for several years. He was a good doctor-considering the time and place-and some of his pre- scriptions were used in the valley for thirty years. He was a hard drinker, and when under the influence of liquor, was very reckless in his talk and actions. He was an ardent secessionist, and he and "Old Charley" Bader were several times put into jail for hurrahing for Jeff. Davis, or something of the kind. They didn't keep them there very long, probably only until they became sober, for they didn't want to hurt the old fellows. Once when Bader was in jail Howe wanted his company, so he broke the lock of the jail and set his crony free. This was looked upon as a good joke and the county authorities paid no attention to it.
The following is one of the many stories told of the doctor's queer sayings. One day when the camp meeting held near Janesville in 1868 was in session, the doctor went down there with a crowd from Susanville. He rode a very fine saddle horse which he valued highly, and when they reached the camp ground he tied his horse to one side and joined the congregation. After a while some of the men moved the animal and told him that Captain Wells had taken him away. Wells was the officer in command at Smoke Creek and he and the doctor occasionally had a spat over politics. The doctor had been drinking ever since he left town and he went to sleep during the sermon. Shortly afterwards the preacher said in a loud voice, "The Captain of Salvation is now in your midst." This awakened the doctor, who thought he said Captain Wells, and he shouted, "Show him to me. Show him to me. The son of a -, he stole my horse !"
Among the various organizations in Susanville was a secret society that came into existence during the winter of 1863-64. It was called "Eclamps Avitas," or words to that effect, what- ever they may mean. It was created by a lot of "locoed" fellows for the purpose of getting what fun they could out of it.
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Their high jinks were held in the barn that the Plumas county posse had used as a fort in 1863, and it is to be presumed that everything went well with them in their efforts to get some enjoyment out of life until the women interfered. Probably they thought it was not right or proper for the men to have too much fun. Anyway, Mrs. Dake, Mrs. Rundel, and several other women, organized a committee of investigation which sneaked up to the barn while the lodge was in session and "peeked" through the cracks in its sides. Just at that time they were initiating a new member, and the committee heard blood-curd- ling roars and various other noises of a terrifying nature mingled with the clanking of chains. Perhaps the aforesaid roars, etc. were augmented by the cries of the suffering candidate, for it was afterwards learned that he was scared half to death while the initiation was going on. Of course the women lost no time in spreading abroad what they had heard, and as a consequence no more men would join the lodge and it came to an untimely end.
Last, but not the least, of the old crowd of fun-makers was Paschal Taylor, familiarly known as "Old Zack" Taylor, who probably came over the hill with Darcey. He was a nice old fellow of considerable education, but for an honest man he was the worst thief that ever drew the breath of life. Although he stole continually, he was not looked upon as a dishonest man. In fact, one of his thefts was usually thought to be a good joke. He stole to carry out a practical joke, to show his skill, just out of curiosity to see if he could do it, and sometimes for the sake of charity. He was harmless, was very old, and was a Mason, and was regarded as a privileged character. He would steal from one man to make a present to another, and if detected, would steal from some one else to pay the debt. T. N. Long says that Zack once made him a present of a very fine duster. After he had worn it for some time A. T. Bruce noticed it and asked him where he got it. Long told him and then Bruce wanted to look at the garment. After examining it he said that it belonged to him and that Zack must have stolen it in order to make Long a present. A great many stories used to be told about his stealing and the tricks he played, and a few will be given to show the various kinds of work he did.
When he was at Richmond some one living there bought a
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turkey for a Christmas dinner and invited his neighbors to the feast. Just before the turkey was to be cooked Zack stole it and threw it upon the roof of a house near by, and it sunk into the deep snow out of sight. There was no time to get another one and the curses of the owner were both loud and deep. Before New Year Zack managed to get another turkey, and he invited his friends to dine with him on that day, the man from whom the turkey was stolen being among them. Both fowls were cooked and brought onto the table and then the host told how he got one of them. The writer never heard what was said immediately after this.
In a book entitled "Buckskin Mose" there is a story which, briefly told, is as follows: One night in the early 60's "Buck- skin Mose" (George W. Perry), Ben. Painter, and a couple of their friends, went into the Magnolia saloon. T. N. Long, the proprietor, had just gone home leaving Zack to run the place for the rest of the evening. One of the party locked all of the doors and took possession of the keys, and the four men sat down to a game of poker. Before long one of them called for the drinks. They were brought, and after the glasses had been emptied Zack called for the customary "four bits." Instead of paying one of the crowd drew a pistol, and laying it on the table, asked Zack if he saw it. Receiving a reply in the affirmative, he said "Wall, then ! don't stick out your paws for money, but bring along the liquor when we ask for it." Zack didn't like this, but he had no choice in the matter and kept still. They went on playing and drinking for the next three hours, and about one o'clock the fire went down and the room got cold. They told Zack to fix the fire, and he asked them how he could get any wood when the door was locked and they had the key. Fearing that he would run away if he went out alone, one of the crowd went out with him, wood was brought, and the fire started up again. The next time the drinks were ordered Zack brought the glasses in his hands instead of on the tray, and when he set them down on the table he put his hands on the table, too, and let them rest there for a short time. "Mose" said that while this was going on the old fellow's face, which had looked very grim all the evening, broke into a smile. Shortly after this he noticed that his pile of money had grown smaller without any apparent cause. The next time the drinks were brought he watched the
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old man carefully. When he went after the wood he managed to get a lot of pitch on the back of his hand close to the wrist, and when putting the drinks on the table he let his hands rest on the piles of money in front of the players and some of it stuck to the pitch every time. Before they finished the game he had a goodly share of their wealth, and though they had a quarrel or two about it, they were all so full of whiskey that no one but "Mose" detected the trick. He thought it was extremely funny, and as the boys had plenty of money at the time, he said nothing about it, and Zack got away with enough money to pay Long for his whiskey several times over and himself for his trouble.
A. W. Worm, who came to Susanville in 1859, tells the following about his first Christmas turkey in California. "Uncle Zack Taylor, who used to come into my little store on Main street after a free drink and tobacco, promised to bring me a turkey for Christmas, as I kept bachelor's hall with three others in a room back of the store. Well, Christmas came but no turkey. I met Uncle Zack in the afternoon and began to quiz him about it. He assured me that the turkey would be coming, and seeing that he was quite boozy, I passed on. About dusk he came into the store carrying something under his coat-cape, and passing right into the kitchen he set a platter with a fine roasted turkey on the table. He said 'There is your turkey. I knew you had no way of roasting it, so I took it up to Brannan to have it roasted for you.' After getting a bottle of whiskey he passed out. Well, the boys soon gathered in and we devoured the luscious turkey, dressing and all. We heard later that he had 'swiped' the turkey from a ranch, sold it to Mike Brannan, who was giving a party and a Christmas dinner, and then slipped into the pantry after it was roasted, stole it again and brought it to me. The joke was on Mr. Brannan, who not only lost the turkey, but many a 25-cent drink to the boys who joshed him about it." Mr. Worm says further, "But Uncle had some good traits of character. He kept a poor widow with three children, who lived in the Woodstock house outside of town, from starving by stealing food and giving it to them. This kind act was found out by a relief committee that went out to see her. While she was telling about the old man's kindness, not knowing his name
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or where he lived, Uncle Zack, thinking the family was alone, stepped into the room."
"Uncle Johnny" Baxter told the following story to the writer forty years ago. On one occasion "Old Zack" and "Uncle Tim" played a little trick that very nearly brought them to grief. Before either of them came to Honey Lake Darcey was at work in a blacksmith shop in Taylorville, and during the winter the proprietor of the shop went away for a while and left him in charge of it. Adjoining the blacksmith shop was a saloon and there was a narrow passage between the two build- ings. The saloon keeper boarded himself, and in the rear end of his building were a dining room and a kitchen, presided over by a Chinaman. That Christmas the saloon man concluded to give his friends a feast and he procured a fine turkey for the occasion. "Old Zack" was living in Taylorville that winter, and when he and Tim heard what was going on they made up their minds to steal the turkey and enjoy both that and the joke they would have on the saloon keeper and his frineds. The dinner was to come off in the middle of the afternoon, and the Chinaman cooked the turkey so as to have it done just about that time. Zack was always slouching around the saloon or the kitchen and no one paid any attention to him, so he was to do the stealing. The stove stood on the side of the kitchen next to the shop and near it was a window through which the cook emptied his slops into the passage way. Tim stationed himself beside this window on the outside and Zack went into the front door of the saloon. No notice was taken of him as he went through the saloon whistling softly to himself, excepting that one of the gamblers sitting in a poker game said "Old Zack is whistling. Look out for him. He will steal something." Zack invited him to go to a place where snow is said to be very scarce at Christmas time, and went on into the kitchen. The turkey was done and the cook had opened the oven door and left it in the stove to keep warm while he set the table. Zack loafed around until the Chinaman went out of the room, and then he picked up the pan containing the turkey and passed it through the window to Tim, who carried it into the blacksmith shop and hid it. The Chinaman got everything ready and then called in the crowd that was getting anxious to enjoy the good cheer provided for them. They sat down to the table and the
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cook went for the turkey. When he returned and reported the loss of the principal part of the feast, their wrath and disap- pointment may be imagined. Suspicion at once fell upon Zack, and of course it followed that Tim also had a hand in it. No time was lost in hunting them up, and when found they were told to give up the turkey immediately or they would be hanged. It didn't take them long to understand that the gamblers meant just what they said, and the fowl was promptly brought from its hiding place. The feast then went on, and although the two jokers got none of it, probably they were happy in the thought that they had escaped being the principal actors in a necktie party.
Among the very early settlers in the valley were a little Irishman named John Bradley and his wife Margaret, who located on the lake about five miles southeast of Bankhead's. They were a worthy old couple who had some "Irish wit" that made them remembered long after they had passed "over the divide." The old man used to ride a little, chunky mare that he called "Fly;" and it was a common thing to see him going along the road leaning back in the saddle, his hat on the back of his head, and his feet well out in front. The little mare went on a trot and her rider frequently drummed on her ribs with his heels and said "Get up, Fly." All this looked very comical to men who rode their wild mustangs with a Spanish rig, let them walk occasionally, and loped them the rest of the time. It was said that he used to meet a man and ask "Have you seen my steer?" The other man would usually say "I don't know your steer, Mr. Bradley. What is his color and brand?" After giving his color he would say "and he has a crop off his right ear and a swallow-fork in the left and is branded J B on the left hind hip, and do you know him now?" Once when at a rodeo he asked some of the boys to get his cow out of the band because he was afraid that she would "get scattered." His Wife said a good many things that were appreciated and enjoyed. One of them was about a man who denied that he came from Ireland. "Sure," said Mrs. Bradley, "it's no disgrace to Ireland." The story lost nothing from the fact that the man's neighbors thought she wasn't far from the truth.
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