USA > California > San Francisco County > San Francisco > Men and memories of San Francisco in the "spring of '50" > Part 6
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Evrard & Robinson were the proprietors of the Dramatic Museum, on California street, be- tween Montgomery and Kearny, in 1850.
Dr. Robinson, in 1851, opened the American Theatre, on the corner of Sansome and Halleck streets, and did a great business there. Biscac-
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cianti, under the management of George Loder, made her debut before a California audience in this theatre. Kate Hayes, Emily Coad, Miss Sophie Edwin, Miss Sue Robinson (daughter of the manager), Emily Thorne, Julia Pelby, and a score of lesser celebrities, filled engagements there.
One evening, when some unusual attraction was on the boards, and the house was uncom- fortably crowded and exceedingly hot, an Amer- ican Sovereign, evidently from "Pike," occu- pying a seat in the front of the dress-circle, finding the atmosphere too sultry, arose upon his feet, and deliberately pulled off his coat, laid it upon the seat, and sat down in the com- fort of shirt-sleeves. This proceeding was ob- served by only a few in his vicinity, as the attention of the audience was given to the play, which just at that moment was quite interesting; but the "gods," who act as mentors for the dress-circle just as severely as for the actors- always watchful for, and delighted with any slip-up in either place-detected this breach of etiquette before the offender had seated himself, and there arose from the sky-critics such a yell of derision that the words upon the stage were drowned. The actors ceased for a moment, en- tirely unconscious of the cause, supposing the
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tumult would subside; but, as the bumpkin cul- prit had no more idea than the greater part of the audience what the clamor meant, he sat, gaping at the gallery, wondering why the show didn't go on. All this time the actors stood in their places, while the babel swelled to some- thing appalling, when some good-natured per- son touched the unconventional party upon the shoulder and explained the situation. The aw- ful din ceased for an instant, as the hydra watched the dialogue. "Shirt-sleeves"' seemed refractory-a terrific roar from the hydra- " Shirt-sleeves" quailed at the aspect, and the angry words of the impatient auditors in his immediate vicinity; started up with an air of coerced innocence, resumed his toga virillis, and his seat. The yell of triumph that arose from the " gods" in their joyful sense of victory, was beyond the description of tongue or pen. The play proceeded, and the dignity of San Fran- cisco dress-circle etiquette was established.
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CHAPTER XI.
THE most wonderful case of mistaken identity, is that of Berdue, who was arrested and charged with the murderous assault upon Mr. Jansen, of Jansen, Bond & Co., and the robbery of their store on Montgomery street.
The general outline of this curious story is familiar to all old San Franciscans, and was pub- lished in the "Annals of San Francisco;" but the remarkable particulars, the facts of the case, are stranger than fiction-would in a romance be deemed overwrought. Thomas Ber- due was arrested for the crimes above-men- tioned, taken to the bedside of Mr. Jansen, who was supposed to be in articulo mortis, and recog- nized by him as the man who assaulted him. Another man was taken with Berdue to Mr. Jansen's bedside, but he pointed out Berdue at once as the criminal.
He was remanded to the jail, then in the Gra- ham House, on the corner of Kearny, and was there tried for the crime, by the exasperated citi-
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zens, who no longer trusted the authorities; but the jury failed to agree. Then the citizens assem- bled to hang him, but were restrained by the military until calmer counsel prevailed. Mean- time, Berdue had been recognized as the mur- derer and robber of Sheriff Moore, of Auburn, California, was taken there, tried, convicted and sentenced to death.
There was not the slightest room for doubt in the matter. Men who had known him in Australia, and men who had worked with him in the mines of California, swore positively that Berdue was not Berdue, but Stuart. They were not likely to be mistaken; the prisoner was a peculiar looking man, tall, inclined to stoop, his beard remarkably black, long and pointed, but his hair was a rich brown, fine and wavy, reaching below his collar. He had lost a joint from one of his fingers; had a little slit in one of his ears, and a scar over the left eye- brow. His eye was black, glittering and rest- less; his nose, aquiline; and he had a defiant way of raising his head and looking around him. In his gait there was a marked peculiarity, a long, measured step or stride, like one pacing the measurement of ground. The witnesses were not likely to be deceived, with all these peculiar marks of identity. Therefore, he was
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condemned to hang, and a very short time allowed him for preparation. While awaiting his sentence, there lay in the harbor of San Francisco an English merchant ship, which had brought a cargo to this port, and was about to sail for home. The Captain's wife was on board with him. One night, after they had turned in, they heard a sound like some one on deck. After listening a moment, without hearing any- thing more, they ceased to give it farther atten- tion; but presently, hearing an unusual move- ment in the cabin, the Captain stepped out to ascertain the cause, when he was felled by a slung-shot, the same weapon used upon Mr. Jan- sen. The brave wife was grappling with the would-be murderer, before he could turn from his victim to robbery. This was an unexpected dilemma for the ruffian. He tried choking and "slung-shotting" her, but she clung to his hands with a tenacity that defeated him, and screamed with such a power in her desperation, that the alarm was quickly given, assistance promptly came, and the cowardly villain was soon in the hands of the Vigilance Committee on Battery street.
This was the real Stuart! the murderer of Sheriff Moore and the robber of Jansen. When he was brought to daylight, on the morning
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after his arrest, the people could scarcely real- ize that he was not the man already tried and condemned to death. When Berdue, who was innocent of all for which he stood accused, was placed beside the Australian convict and mur- derer, the resemblance was something more than wonderful; it was awful, under the circum- stances!
Not only in stature, complexion, similarity of hair-soft, long, brown and waving over the shoulders-and long, black, pointed beards; but each had lost the joint from the same finger of the same hand; each had the little slit in the left ear; the same shaped scar over the left eyebrow; and when they stepped, there was the same peculiarity of gait. The physiognomist could see the aquiline nose, the very black eye, and habit of lifting the head to look around; but in Berdue's eye, the disciple of Lavater could not see the cold, wicked, cruel glitter noticeable in Stuart's eye, nor the devilish expression of his mouth and nostril. When Stuart was ordered to be brought out for sentence, the guard led him forward from the cell in the cor- ner of the committee room to the Judge's seat. Stuart was taller than the guard on either side, and his arms were pinioned behind him. His black, piercing eyes glanced on every side, as
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he was led through the throng of men to the open space in front of the judgment seat. The guard halted with their prisoner directly before it. He fastened his gaze upon the Judge's calm, solemn face, with an intensity that was painful. Breathless silence prevailed for a mo- ment. The Judge's voice pronounced the mur- derer's name, and proceeded with the usual form, reciting his crime and sentencing him to be taken from thence in two hours' time, and hung by the neck until dead, and exhorting him to make his peace with God, through the priests who were in attendance.
When the Judge's words broke the silence which fell upon the multitude, as the murderer paused to hear his doom, Stuart started, lifted his head defiantly, and stood like a statue until the sentence was spoken.
His burning eye was never for an instant diverted from the Judge's face, yet, by an inde- scribable flash, it seemed continually taking in everything around him, as if his sight and his attention were divided; fascinated by one ob- ject, from which he could not avert his gaze or thought; while watchful and intensely conscious of every movement and sound around him, like a ferocious beast of prey, surprised and angry at its capture, maddened with its fetters, keenly
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alert with the hope of escape and the desire to destroy its captors, but never a thought of sor- row or repentance.
At the close of the sentence, when the guard turned the prisoner back to the corner of the room, where the priests stood awaiting him, he strode forward with the peculiar step, charac- teristic of, and so nearly fatal to his double; but his features could not assume indifference. He seemed to be argus-eyed; to note the slightest movement near him, and to recoil from it with that indescribable mingling of fear, entreaty and defiance seen in the eyes of men awaiting the terrible details of execution. Within the appointed time, declining, scornfully, spiritual consolation, he was led down the stairs from the Vigilance Committee Rooms to the street, and escorted by hundreds of the members, each carrying a loaded revolver in his right hand, to a little pier on Market street, east of Battery, where the gallows had been improvised upon a derrick used for loading lighters.
The rope was placed around his neck, after some one had removed his hat for that purpose. Then, he who had removed the hat, a broad- brimmed, low crown, black felt hat, placed it upon his head so as to cover his features, and pressed the prisoner's hand, saying, "Be firm,
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and 'twill soon be over!" At a signal, the tall, silent figure was suddenly pulled against the outstretched arm of the derrick by hundreds of hands, grasping the long rope that led from the gallows to the rear rank of the band, that marched to justice one of the vilest outlaws who ever came from the penal colonies of Great Britain to the shores of California.
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CHAPTER XII.
" POVERTY makes strange bed-fellows." So did California in early days. Neither gold-dust, not yet silver dollars, would always avail in get- ting a room to one's self .. A little of the ex- perience of those early days took the fastidious- ness out of most men. Still, some never could, though half-dead with fatigue, obtain dreamless, refreshing sleep in blankets, the dread of contact with which made him lie down for the night in clothing worn all day, thus precluding the re- freshment and freedom which disrobing gives the wearied body. Nor could he; predisposed to insomnia, sink to oblivion comfortably, after catching the glittering, furtive glare from the eyes of a silent, outstretched figure in the bunk above or below the one to be occupied by him- self, under the pillow of which he had so quietly (thinking himself all unobserved) just then slid the little chamois-skin sack containing his entire " credentials."
Where the Cosmopolitan Hotel now stands,
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there was in 1849, and into 1850, a sand-hill, nearly, if not quite as high as the spacious struc- ture now forming the southwest corner of Bush and Sansome-a lonely, desolate looking spot even in daylight, and at night, a place to be avoided. In the middle of this sand-hill was a hollow, hidden from the sight of passers-by, either upon Montgomery street or the winding path from Macondray & Co's store (on the cor- ner of Pine and Sansome), past Cy. Jones' little cottage, and skirting the lumber-yard of R. S. Dorr, or the path across the deep, toilsome sand- waste, afterwards occupied by the Oriental Hotel, and now by the warehouse and offices of L. & M. Sachs. In the little hollow of this sand- hill were tents and board shanties, and occa- sionally the deck-house or old galley of some ship, the occupant of which suddenly appearing in the low doorway, or showing a villainous- looking head, with tangled elf-locks and shaggy beard, at the little square port-hole window, like a bandit-portrait by Salvator Rosa, in a very scant frame-an apparition not in the least cal- culated to inspire confidence in the minds of those who, in broad daylight, had wandered there. On the contrary, an immediate desire seized one to regain the more frequented pathways skirting the lonely sand-hill's base. Runaway sailors, es-
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caped convicts, burglars and desperados of every nation, skulked here by day, and prowled forth by night, to those acts of crime and violence which called into existence the Vigilance Com- mittee of 1851. The path before mentioned, skirting the sand-hill rising from the corner of Bush and Battery, extended to where First street now joins Market street. There were buildings on both sides of First street. The tide came up under the workshops on the east side of the street. It was here that James and Peter Dona- hue commenced laying the foundation of the fortune which has ever since so generously aided all enterprise and charity, and every scheme for the advancement of public good, aside from private deeds of kindness, and "more good by stealth" than can be here recorded.
On the west side of this street were a few stores, lodging-houses, restaurants, and a butch- er's shop. At the "Isthmus," kept by Mr. H-, Morpheus could be wooed for one dollar cada noche, and won-if the fleas were propitious. The sleeping conveniences were not quite Sar- danapalian, being open bunks, in tiers three deep, a row on each side of the apartment, and one row reaching along the entire centre of the floor. Dingy gray blankets, and dingier pillows, sans sachets, were the accessories. Matutinal ablu-
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tion was ignored by the worthy landlord. Still, this resting place was often chosen, because it was not quite convenient to pay three dollars cada noche for clean sheets and snowy pillow- cases at the St. Francis.
There was a boy (a native of Australia) who sometimes gave an exhibition of the manner in which the boomerang is thrown. He became known as an adept in casting the mysterious missile of Van Dieman's Land, and often he would be hired by people curious to see the modus operandi, and, as he passed along the streets to some large, open space, convenient for the feat, his audience would increase until the number afforded a very nice little contribution, when, subsequent to the performance, the hat was passed around. It was in the sand-hill where the Rassette House was afterwards built, and where the Cosmopolitan Hotel now stands, that the boomerang was thrown. The boy used to swing his body around to the right, sweeping the piece of thin, curved wood, like a scimetar, back as far as he could reach, then, quick as a flash, throwing it with all his force high up in the air before him.
It seemed to the spectator as if it went three hundred feet before it suddenly paused, trem-
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bled for an instant, and quickly slid back again, down the same path upon which it ascended, as if gliding along an invisible wire, until it fell upon the sand, a little distance to the rear of him who cast the queer projectile. There was an ale house called the "Boomerang," kept by Langley & Griffiths, on Kearny street, west side, just beyond Palmer, Cook & Co.'s Bank; a real English place, "with jolly good ale and old," with Cheshire and Stilton cheese, and, on stated days, a roasted sirloin, the sight, odor and taste of which excited in the breast of native Ameri- cans great respect for British meats and British cooking. The proprietors were good men, and much respected by the citizens. Newspaper men, literary men, actors, musicians and others who liked quiet and comfort, used to resort there to quaff the brown October, enjoy a good cigar, and look over the "London Times," the "Illustrated London News," "Punch," "Bell's Life" and "The Hue and Cry." "Jeems Pipes of Pipes- ville" was often here, and Jeems is, or ought to be, a judge of good ale.
The "Boomerang" has gone forever, like very many of its habitues. Its courteous hosts are-we know not where! New and preten- tious buildings front upon the old site. Nothing remains save its memory, which is pleasant. Requiescat in pace!
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We believe that Mr. Langley, of the firm of Langley & Co., druggists in this city, is a brother to mine host of the old " Boomerang."
Charley Elleard, as early as June, 1850, kept a bar and oyster room on Clay street, on the north side, about midway between Kearny and Montgomery. It was a very neat, stylish place. Oyster stews (canned oysters) were one dollar and fifty cents per plate, and considered very reasonable. Fresh oysters were unknown then; subsequently they were brought from Shoalwater Bay, by Captain Russell, and first sold by Toney Oakes, on Kearny street, north of Washington.
Charley Elleard was a constable in 1850, and in the execution of his official duties, rode a black pony, with white feet, a sagacious equine, the pet of everybody about Clay street and the neighborhood of the Plaza and adjacent Kearny street. His saddle and bridle were Mexican, gorgeously caparisoned with jingling silver, pol- ished with care and glittering in the sun. He had learned the luxury of polished understand- ing; and if anybody would place a two bit piece in his mouth, straightway he would march to the bootblack stand on the southwest corner of Kearny and the Plaza, drop the money into the hand of the operator, put one hoof upon the
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boot-rest, quietly note its polishing, and when finished, raise the other, gravely wait its manip- ulation, then walk directly back to his master's office. His ponyship seemed to derive especial enjoyment from this maneuver; whether from the polish on his hoofs, or the prevalent custom of trying to see how much money he could spend, we do not know, but as two bit pieces were plenty, and the pony was always ready, he might often be seen as we have related.
Three years ago, Mr. Elleard, who was revisit- ing San Francisco, told us that the old pony was still living in his paddock in St. Louis, stone blind, and just able to walk across the ground, whinnying feebly, and rubbing his nose against his master's hand whenever he came to look upon his faithful old servant and companion.
Everybody in San Francisco knew the signal for a side-wheel steamer; and about the time one was expected with the mails, men used to come to their store doors and look up at the signal-house on Telegraph Hill, right in the line of Montgomery street. The signal for the side- wheel steamer, was like two outstretched, up- lifted arms-two long, black boards, one on each side of the long, black signal pole.
Everybody knew this signal, and knew that
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the P. M. S. S. Co's steamers were all side- wheelers, and citizens were so delighted to see the signal of "tidings from home," that it was an understood thing for men to suspend all busi- ness, and take a drink, in the pleasurable ex- citement of anticipation. A crowd at once besieged Adams & Co's office, impatiently waiting Ben. Moulton, Jo. Broderick, or Billy White, with the letter-trunk, and never were particular about the change in paying postage, so pleased were they with a letter in the well- known handwriting. Now-a-days, it would be difficult to make men, never similarly situated, understand the excitement created by the sig- nal for a side-wheel steamer. One night "The Hunchback" was being performed at the Amer- ican Theatre. C. Thorne, Senior, was " Master Walter.'' The house was crowded in every portion. The play had progressed to where
" Julia" has quarreled with " Clifford," and " Master Walter," just hearing of it, comes in, all excitement, and walks to the centre of the stage. The actor's figure, dressed entirely in black, stood in bold relief against the white, flower-spotted scenery representing the draw- ing-room walls. Throwing up his arms, long and black, he exclaimed, "What does this mean ?" "Side-wheel steamer," roared an im-
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mense voice from the gallery. The effect was electrical. Shouts of laughter and round upon round of applause interrupted the play for some minutes.
A little way below the Cathedral, on Cali- fornia street, are two old fashioned, wooden houses, of many rooms and halls, and narrow stair and passage ways, and unexpected angles, nooks and corners. Twenty years ago these houses were the aristocratic boarding-houses of the city, where dwelt Governors, Chief Justices, U. S. Land Commissioners, Commanders of the Army and Navy, and U. S. Coast Survey, law- yers of eminence, bankers and merchants, and beautiful, fashionable and accomplished ladies. The house next the Cathedral was kept by Mrs. Leland, and the other by Mrs. Petits. Neither money nor pains were spared in making com- fortable the guests in these dwellings. There was an atmosphere of enjoyment, a cordial, friendly intercourse, among those who assen- bled at the dinner-tables, spread so bountifully there, from'49 to '56, which made very pleasant hours for the guests then, and pleasant in the recollection of to-day, with many middle-aged ladies and gentlemen.
The gentler sex were rare in those days and
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accordingly worshiped, petted, feasted, courted, and constantly the recipients of costly tokens of regard from admiring acquaintances, eager for the society and humanizing influences from which California's isolation debarred them. The loveliest girl of to-day in San Francisco would open wide her eyes at the homage which was laid twenty years ago at the feet of very commonplace ladies-ladies whose school-girl days were a long way back in the perspective of life's road. The fair ones of those days, many of them, found in San Francisco fortunes as rich as the toiling miner unearthed far up in the mountains. We know, among our aristocracy of San Francisco, wealthy dames who were pretty servant girls in years gone by; one in parti- cular, who was a nurse-maid in one of those wooden houses of which we have been writing. Neither did we ever know anything but good of them; nor do we ever meet them without feeling glad of the good fortune which is theirs.
There is a man whose face is familiar to us, and to all who frequent the business haunts, who excites a different sentiment whenever we meet him. Several years ago he was a day la- borer for a man who was engaged in successful business in this city; who lived in his store, and slept there; frugal, temperate and industrious,
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gradually accumulating sufficient to make a home for his wife and little ones, then far away in another country. One morning his store was not opened as usual, and, upon investigation, the neighbors found him dead in his bed. It was known that the departed never had done any banking-keeping his money hidden somewhere in his premises. It could not be found; but the man in his employ, who never had any means of acquisition, save his daily wages, never sought employment elsewhere, but very soon after his employer's demise loaned several thou- sand dollars upon valuable improved property ; and from that day to this he has been among the capitalists of San Francisco. No one is his associate. He walks the streets as if seeking something upon the pavement. His manners are morose, or spasmodically gay-plenty of money, but never a day's happiness !
Another: a large holder in a certain richly remunerative stock. He is the trustee for the property of a deceased friend's child. For years he has, by every possible means, kept from its rightful channel a large part of the constantly increasing income, diverting to his own coffers another's property. In the eyes of the busi- ness community he is one of our most respect- able citizens ; in his own estimation, an unhappy thief.
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CHAPTER XIII.
WE were at a wedding the other evening in the Starr King Church, Rev. Dr. Stebbins, Pastor. The sight of the pretty bride made us more fully realize the flight of time, than any- thing that has occurred to us in our California life; because we remembered, as if it were only one year ago, the day the bride was born, and remember our taking a congratulatory glass of wine with her father. She was born on board a storeship in this harbor twenty years ago. It was very comfortable, living on a storeship in those days, and rather an enviable situation. The cabins were fitted up in the cosiest and most convenient way; there was no fear of fire, as with those ashore; no dust; and if callers were coming, they could be observed at some con- siderable distance in the approaching boat, and received without any inconvenience or the em- barrassments incident to deshabille or the surprises of city life. There were many storeships then, and where they were anchored seemed a long
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