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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/11507-0.txt b/11507-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..9ba0d16 --- /dev/null +++ b/11507-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,2427 @@ +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 11507 *** + +The Lure of San Francisco + +A Romance Amid Old Landmarks + + + +By +Elizabeth Gray Potter +and +Mabel Thayer Gray + +Illustrated By +Audley B. Wells + + + +Paul Elder & Company +Publishers San Francisco + + + +Copyright, 1915, By +Paul Elder & Co. +San Francisco + + + +To Our Mother + + + +Preface + +The average visitor considers California's claim to historic recognition +as dating from the discovery of gold. Her children, both by birth and +adoption, have a hazy pride in her Spanish origin but are too busy with +today's interests to take much thought of it. They know that somewhere +over in the Mission is the old adobe church. They rejoice that it +escaped the fire but have no time to visit it. They will proudly tell +their eastern friends of its existence and that the Presidio received +its name from the Spaniards but further narration of the heritage is +lost in exclamations over the beauty of the drives and the views, while +the historic significance of Portsmouth Square is smothered in the +delight over Chinese embroideries, bronzes and cloisonné. + +May this little book aid in the general awaking of the dormant love of +every Californian for his possessions and be a suggestion to the casual +visitor that we are entitled to the dignity of age. + + + +Contents + +Preface +The Mission and its Romance + A view from Twin Peaks--The city with its historic crosses. A visit + to the old church--Its past, and the romance of Lüis Argüello. +The Presidio, Past and Present + The Spanish Fortifications and the love story of Concepcion and + Rezánov. +The Plaza and its Echoes + A Chinese restaurant. Yerba Buena and the reminiscences of a + forty-niner. +Telegraph Hill of Unique Fame + The Latin quarter. The signal station of '49 and a view of the city + as it was. The Golden Gate. + + + +List of Illustrations + +The Mission + "The modern structures crowd upon the low adobe building." +Prayer Book Cross + "A granite cross just visible above the trees in Golden Gate Park." +At Lotta's Fountain + "We watched the people purchasing flowers on the corner." +The Officer's Club House at the Presidio + "Of a different generation from its neighbors." +A Street in Chinatown + "We must take a look at the spot where the first house stood." +Portsmouth Square + "The entire history of San Francisco was made around this Plaza." +A Fountain in the Latin Quarter + "Stooping to drink from his hand on the edge of a little pool." +A Sunset Thro' the Golden Gate + "The last rays gilded the cliffs on either side." + + + +The Mission + +A view from Twin Peaks--The city with its historic crosses. A visit to +the old church--Its past, and the romance of Lüis Argüello. + + + +The Mission and Its Romance + +"Tickets to the city, Sir?" The conductor's voice sounded above the +rumble of the train. As my companion's hand went to his pocket he +glanced at me with a quizzical smile. + +"I should think you Oaklanders would resent that. Hasn't your town put +on long skirts since the fire?" There was an unpleasant emphasis on the +last phrase, but I passed it over unnoticed. + +"Of course we have grown up," I assured him. "We're a big flourishing +city, but we are not the city. San Francisco always has been, and always +will be the city to all northern California; it was so called in the +days of forty-nine and we still cling affectionately to the term." + +"I believe you Californians have but two dates on your calendar," he +exclaimed, "for everything I mention seems to have happened either +'before the fire' or 'in the good old days of forty-nine!' 'Good old +days of forty-nine,'" he repeated, amused. "In Boston we date back to +the Revolution, and 'in Colonial times' is a common expression. We have +buildings a hundred years old, but if you have a structure that has +lasted a decade, it is a paragon and pointed out as built 'before the +fire.' Do you remember the pilgrimage we made to the historic shrines of +Boston, just a year ago?" + +"Shall I ever forget it!" I exclaimed. + +He smiled appreciatively. "Faneuil Hall and the old State House are +interesting." + +"Oh, I wasn't thinking about the buildings! I don't even recall how they +look. But I do remember the weather. I was so cold I couldn't even +speak." + +"Impossible!" he cried, "you not able to talk!" + +"But it's true! My cheeks were frozen stiff. I wore a thick dress, a +sweater, a heavy coat and my furs, and, still I was cold while all the +time I was thinking that the fruit trees and wild flowers were in +blossom in California. If it hadn't been for the symphony concerts and +the opera, I never could have endured an Eastern winter." + +"A fine compliment to me when I spent days taking you to points of +historic interest." + +I sent him an appreciative glance. "It was good of you," I acknowledged, +"and do you remember that I promised to take you on a similar pilgrimage +when you came to San Francisco?" + +He laughed. "And I was foolish enough to believe you, since I had never +been to the Pacific Coast." + +The train came to a stop in the Ferry Building and we followed the other +passengers onto the boat. "San Francisco is modern to the core," he +continued. "Boston dates back generations, but you have hardly acquired +your three score years and ten." + +"If you don't like fine progressive cities, why did you come to +California?" His fault-finding with San Francisco hurt me as if it had +been a personal criticism. + +"You know why I came," he said gently, with his eyes on my face. + +I felt the blood creeping to my cheeks and turned quickly to look for an +out-of-doors seat. In the crowd we were jostled by a little slant-eyed +man of the Orient, resplendent in baggy blue silk trousers tied neatly +at the ankles and a loose coat lined with lavender, whose flowing +sleeves half concealed his slender brown hands. + +"There's a man who has centuries at his back." My companion's eyes +traveled from the soft padded shoes to the little red button on the top +of the black skull cap. "Even his costume is the same as his +forefathers'." + +"If you are interested in the Chinese, I'll show you Oriental San +Francisco. It lies in the heart of the city and its very atmosphere is +saturated with Eastern customs. It is much more sanitary but not as +picturesque as it was before the fire." I flushed as I saw his +amusement, and quickly called his attention to the receding shores where +the encircling green hills had thrown out long banners of yellow mustard +and blue lupins. To the right was Mt. Tamalpais, a sturdy sentinel +looking out to the ocean, its summit pressed against the sky's blue +canopy and its base lost in a network of purple forests. In front of the +Golden Gate was Alcatraz Island, like a huge dismantled warship, +guarding the entrance to the bay, and before us, San Francisco rested +upon undulating hills, its tall buildings piercing the sky at irregular +intervals. We made our way to the forward deck in order to have the full +sweep of the waterfront. + +"You should see it at night!" I said, "it is a marvelous tiara. The red +and green lights on these wharves close to the water's edge are the +rubies and emeralds, while above, sweeping the hills, the lights of the +residences sparkle like rows and rows of diamonds." + +A crowd of passengers surged around us as the boat poked its nose into +the slip. "There was nothing left of this part of the city but a fringe +of wharves, after the fire." I bit the last word in two, for it was +evident the expression was getting on his nerves. I was thankful that +the clanging chains of the descending gang plank and the tramp of many +feet made further conversation impossible. + +"Hurry," he urged, "there's the Exposition car." We were in front of the +Ferry Building and the crowd was jostling us in every direction. + +"You surely are not going to the Exposition!" I exclaimed in mock +surprise. + +"Of course I am. Where else should we go?" + +"But, my dear Antiquary, those buildings are only a few months old!" + +He laughed good naturedly. "It ought to suit you Westerners, anyway," he +retaliated. Then taking my arm, "Let us hurry! Look, the car is +starting!" + +"I am going to take the one behind," I announced. "There must be +something old in San Francisco and I am going to find it." + +"You'll have a long hunt," rejoined the skeptic, and with his eyes still +on the tail of the disappearing Exposition car, he reluctantly followed +me. + +"Lots of strangers in San Francisco for the Fair," he remarked, as from +the car window he watched the big turban of a Hindoo bobbing among the +crowd on the sidewalk; then his eyes wandered to a Japanese arrayed in a +new suit of American clothes and finally rested on a bright yellow lei +wound about the hat of a swarthy Hawaiian. I smiled as I nodded to the +Japanese who had worked in my kitchen for three years, and recognized in +the dusky Hawaiian one of the regular singers in a popular café. + +The train had now left commercial San Francisco behind and was climbing +the hills to where the nature loving citizens had perched their houses +in order to obtain a better view of the bay. We abandoned the car and +following an upward path, finally stood on the lower shoulder of Twin +Peaks. Tired from our exertions we sank upon the soft grass. The hills +had put on their festival attire, catching up their emerald gowns with +bunches of golden poppies and veiling their shoulders in filmy scarfs of +blue lupins. The air was filled with Spring and the delicate blush of an +apple-tree told of the approach of Summer. Below, the city, noisy and +bustling a few moments ago, now lay hushed to quiet by the distance and +beyond, the sun-flecked waters of the bay stretched to a girdle of +verdant hills, up whose sides the houses of the towns were scrambling. +To the left, resting on the top of Mt. Tamalpais, could be seen the +"sleeping maiden" who for centuries had awaited the awakening kiss of +her Indian lover. + +"What a glorious play-ground for San Francisco." His voice rang with +enthusiasm. "Look at the ferryboats plowing up the bay in every +direction. A man could escape from the factory grime on the water front +and in an hour be asleep under a tree on a grassy hillside." + +"It is a splendid country to tramp through, but if a man wants to sleep, +why not spend less time and money by selecting a nearer place? There are +plenty of trees and grassy mounds in the Presidio and Golden Gate Park." + +His eyes followed mine to the green patch edging the entrance to the bay +and then ran along the tree-lined avenue to the parked section extending +almost from the center of the city to the Pacific Ocean. Suddenly he +stood up and took his field glasses from his pocket. + +"There's a granite cross just visible above the trees in Golden Gate +Park." He focused his glasses for a better view. "It's quite elaborate +in design and seems to be raised on a hill." + +He offered me the glasses but I did not need them. "It's the Prayer-Book +Cross and commemorates the first Church of England service held on this +Coast by Sir Francis Drake in 1579. I think it is a shame that we +haven't also a monument for Cabrillo, the real discoverer, who was here +nearly forty years earlier. If Sir Francis hadn't stolen a Spanish +ship's chart, he would never have found the Gulf of the Farallones. +Cabrillo sailed along the coast more than half a century before +Massachusetts Bay was discovered," I added maliciously. + +"I had forgotten the old duffer," he smiled back at me. Raising his +glasses again, he scanned the sombre roofs to the right. "There's +another monument," he volunteered, "rising out of the heart of the +city." + +I followed the direction indicated to where the outstretched arms of a +white wooden cross were silhouetted against the sky. + +"If I were in Europe," he continued, "I should call it a shrine, for the +sides of the hill on which it stands are seamed with paths running from +the net-work of houses to the foot of the cross." + +"It is a shrine at which all San Francisco worships. Wrapped in mystery +it stands, for when it was placed there no one knows. It comes to us out +of the past--a token left by the Spanish padres. Three times it has +fallen into decay, but always loving hands have reached forward to +restore it, and as long as San Francisco shall last, a cross will rise +from the summit of Lone Mountain." + +"The Spanish padres!" The ring in his voice bespoke his interest. "Are +there any other relics left?" + +I pointed to the level section below. "Do you see that low red roof +almost hidden by its towering neighbors? That is the old Mission San +Francisco de Asis, colloquially called Dolores, from the little rivulet +on whose bank it was built." + +Through his field glasses he scrutinized the expanse of substantial +houses and paved streets. "I can't find the rivulet," he announced. + +"Of course you can't, you stupid man!" I laughed. "If you'll use your +imagination instead of your glasses you will see it easily. The stream +arose, we are told, between the summits of Twin Peaks, and tumbling down +the hill-side, made its way east, emptying into the Laguna." + +"I don't see a laguna!" Again the skeptic surveyed the field of roofs. + +"Put down your glasses and close your eyes," I commanded. "When you open +them the houses from here to the bay will have disappeared and the +ground will be covered with a carpet of velvety green, dappled here and +there by groves of oak trees and relieved by patches of bright poppies." + +"And fields of yellow mustard," he supplemented. + +"No, your imagination is too vivid. The padres brought the mustard seed +later. A little south of the present mission," I continued, "you will +see a group of willows bending to drink the crystal waters of the Arroyo +de los Dolores, so named because Anza and his followers discovered it on +the day of our Mother of Sorrows, and to the east is the shining +laguna." + +"It's clear as a San Francisco fog," he laughed. "I'd like to take a +look at the old building! Is there a car line?" + +"Let's follow in the footsteps of the padres," I begged. "They used +often to climb this hill and it isn't very far." + +He looked dubiously down the rugged side and mentally measured the +distance from the base to the low tiled roof. + +"All right," he said at last, "if you'll let me take a ten minutes nap +before we start." He stretched himself at full length on the soft grass +and pulled his hat low over his eyes. + +I was glad to be quiet for a time and let my imagination have full +sweep. I seemed to see, toiling up the peninsula, a little band of +foot-sore travelers, the leathern-clad soldiers on the alert for hostile +Indians, the brown-robed friars encouraging the women and children, and +the sturdy colonists bringing up the rear with their flocks and herds. +At last the little company come to a sparkling rivulet and stoop to +drink eagerly of the cool water. The commander examines his chart and +nods to the tonsured priest who falls on his knees and raises his voice +in thanksgiving. Stretching out his arms in blessing to his flock, he +exclaims: "Rest now, my children. Our journey is at an end. Here on the +Arroyo de Nuestra Señora de los Dolores, we will establish the mission +to our Father San Francisco de Asis." + +"If we want to see the old building before lunch time, we shall have to +be moving," said a sleepy voice at my elbow. + +"Come on, then, I'll be your pathfinder," and we raced down the +hill-side until the paved streets reminded us that city manners were +expected. + +We followed the former course of the Arroyo de los Dolores down +Eighteenth to Church street, then turned north. Two, blocks further on I +laid a detaining hand on my companion's arm. + +"Hold, skeptic," I whispered, "thou art on holy ground." + +He looked up at the two-story dwelling house before us, let his eyes +wander down the row of modest residences and linger on the pavements +where a tattered newsboy was shying stones at a stray cat; then his +glance came back to my face with a smile. "My belief in your veracity is +unlimited. I uncover." He stood for an instant with bared head. "Just +when did this sanctification take place, was it before the fire or--" + +"It was on October 9th, 1776," I tried to speak impressively, "the year +the Colonies made their Declaration of Independence. The procession +began over there at the Presidio," I pointed to the north. "A +brown-robed friar carrying an image of St. Francis led the little +company of men, women and children over the shifting sand-dunes to this +very spot where a rude church had been erected. Its sides were of mud +plastered over a palisade wall of willow poles and its ceiling a leaky +roof of tule rushes but it was the beginning of a great undertaking and +Father Paloú elevated the cross and blessed the site and all knelt to +render thanks to the Lord for His goodness." + +"But I thought you said the church still existed." His eyes again sought +the row of dwelling houses. + +"This was only for temporary use and later was pulled down. Six years +after the fathers arrived, a larger and more substantial church was +built one block farther east. But before you see that you must get into +the spirit of the past by imagining a square of four blocks lying +between Fifteenth and Seventeenth streets and Church and Guerrero, swept +clean of these modern structures and filled with mission buildings. At +the time when you New Englanders were pushing the Indians farther and +farther into the wilderness, killing and capturing them, we Californians +were drawing them to our missions with gifts and friendship. While you +were leaving them in ignorance we were teaching them--" + +He stooped to get a full look at my eyes. "I never knew a Spaniard to +have eyes the color of violets. Look up your family tree, my dear +enthusiast, and I think you will find that you are we." + +"I'm not," I declared indignantly. "I'm a Californian. I was born here +and even if I haven't Spanish blood in my veins, I have the spirit of +the old padres." + +"But the spirit has not left a lasting impression. Indeed civilization +whether dealt out with friendly hands or thrust upon the natives at the +point of the bayonet seems to have been equally poisonous on both sides +of the continent." + +"True, philosopher, but would you call the work of these padres +impressionless, when it has permeated all California? The open-hearted +hospitality of the Spaniards is a canonical law throughout the West, and +their exuberant spirit of festivity still remains, impelling us to +celebrate every possible event, present and commemorative." + +We had reached Dolores Street, a broad parked avenue where automobiles +rushed by one another, shrieking a warning to the pedestrian. Suddenly I +found myself alone. My companion had darted across the crowded street to +a little oasis of grass where a mission bell hung suspended on an iron +standard. + +"It marks 'El Camino Real,'" he reported as he rejoined me. + +"The King's Highway," I translated. "It must have been wonderful at this +season of the year, for as the padres traveled northward, they scattered +seeds of yellow mustard and in the spring a golden chain connected the +missions from San Francisco to San Diego. Over there nearer the bay," I +nodded toward the east where a heavy cloud of black smoke proclaimed the +manufacturing section of the city, "lay the Potrero--the pasture-land +of the padres--and the name still clings to the district. Beyond was +Mission Cove, now filled in and covered with store-houses, but formerly +a convenient landing place for the goods of Yankee skippers who, +contrary to Spanish law, surreptitiously traded with the padres." + +We turned to the massive façade of the old church, where hung the three +bells, of which Bret Harte wrote. + + "Bells of the past, whose long forgotten music + Still fills the wide expanse; + Tingeing the sober twilight of the present, + With the color of romance." + +As we entered the low arched doorway, we seemed to step from the hurry +of the twentieth century into the peace of a by-gone era. Outside, the +modern structures crowd upon the low adobe building, staring down upon +it with unsympathetic eyes and begrudging it the very land it stands on, +while inside, hand-hewn rafters, massive grey walls, and a red tiled +floor slightly depressed in places by years of service, point mutely to +the past, to the days when padres and neophytes knelt at the sound of +the Angelus. Within still stand the elaborate altars brought a century +ago from Mexico, before which Junipero Serra held mass during his last +visit to San Francisco. On the massive archway spanning the building, +can be seen the dull red scroll pattern, a relic of Indian work. + +"Sing something," my companion suggested. "It needs music to make the +spell complete." + +"It does," I assented, "but you must stay where you are," and climbing +to a balcony at the end of the building, I concealed myself in the +shadow. + +He glanced up at the first notes, then sat with bowed head. I filled the +old church with an Ave Maria, then another. As I sang, the candles +seemed to have been lighted on the gilded altars, and the brown friars +and dusky Indians took form in the dim enclosure. + +"More," he urged, but I would not, for I feared that the spell might be +broken. So he came up to see why I lingered, and found me mounted on a +ladder peering up at the old mission bells and the hand-hewn rafters +tied with ropes of plaited rawhide. + +My song must have attracted a passer-by, for a voice greeted us as we +descended. + +"Did you see the bells?" he asked eagerly. "They're a good deal like +some of us old folks, out of commission because of age and disuse, but +nevertheless they have their value. One has lost its tongue, another is +cracked and the third sags against the side wall, so they're useless as +church bells, but still they seem to speak of the days of the padres and +the Indians." + +"Were there many Indians here?" questioned the Bostonian. + +"Often more than a thousand. I was born in the shadow of this building, +in the year when the Mission was secularized, but my father knew it in +its glory and used to tell me many stories about the good old padres." + +Seeing the interest in our faces, the dark eyes brightened and he patted +the thick adobe wall affectionately. "This church was only a small part +of the Mission in those days. The buildings formed an inner quadrangle +and two sides of an outer one, all a beehive of industry. There were the +work rooms of the Indians, where blankets and cloth were woven; great +vats for trying out tallow and curing hides, and also huge storehouses +for grain and other foodstuffs, all built and cared for by the Indians." + +"Quite a change from their lazy roving life," suggested the Easterner. + +"Still the padres were not hard taskmasters," insisted the stranger. +"The work lasted only from four to six hours a day and the evenings were +devoted to games and dancing. All were required to attend religious +services, however, and at the sound of the Angelus, they gathered within +these walls. There was no sleeping through long prayers in those days," +he added with an amused smile, "for a swarthy disciple paced the aisles +and with a long pointed stick aroused the nodding ones, or quieted the +too hilarious spirits of the small boys." + +"A good example for some of our modern churches," remarked my companion, +as we followed our guide to the altar at the end of the chapel. The +light streaming through the mullioned window fell full upon the carved +figure of a tonsured monk clad in a loose robe girdled with a cord. "It +is our father, St. Francis," explained the old man. "It was in +accordance with his direct wish that this Mission was founded." + +"Yes?" questioned the skeptic. + +"When Father JunÃpero Serra received orders from Galvez for the +establishment of the missions in Alta California, and found that there +was none for St. Francis, he ex-claimed: 'And is the founder of our +order, St. Francis, to have no mission?' Thereupon the Visitador +replied: 'If St. Francis desires a mission, let him show us his port,' +and the Saint did!" the old face with its fringe of soft white hair was +transformed with religious enthusiasm. "He blinded the eyes of Portolá +and his men so that they did not recognize Monterey and led them on to +his own undiscovered bay. And in spite of the fact that the Mission has +been stripped of its lands, we know that it is still under the special +protection of St. Francis, for it was not ten years ago that the second +miracle was performed." + +"The second miracle!" we wonderingly repeated. + +"Yes, it was at the time of the fire of 1906. The heart of San Francisco +was a raging furnace. The fireproof buildings melted under the +tremendous heat and collapsed as if they had been constructed of lead; +the devouring flames swept over the Potrero; they fell upon the brick +building next door and crept close to the walls of this old adobe, when +suddenly, as if in the presence of a sacred relic, the fire crouched and +died at its very doors." + +We passed the altar and the old man crossed himself, while in our hearts +we, too, gave thanks for the preservation of this monument of the past. + +"You must not go until you have seen the cemetery," said our guide as we +moved toward the entrance, and throwing open a door to the right he +admitted us to the neglected graveyard. Here and there a rude cross +marked the resting place of an early Indian convert and an almost +obliterated inscription on a broken headstone revealed the name of a +Spanish grandee. Shattered columns, loosened by the hand of time and +overthrown in recent years, lay upon the ground, while great willow and +pepper trees spread out protecting arms, as if to shield the silent +company from the inroads of modern enterprise. We picked our way along +vine-latticed paths, past graves over which myrtle and roses wandered in +untrimmed beauty, to where a white shaft marked the resting place of Don +Luis Argüello, comandante of the San Francisco Presidio for twenty-three +years and the first Mexican governor of California. + +"How splendidly strong he looms out of the past," I said. "His keen +insight into the needs of this western outpost and his determined +efforts for the best interests of California will forever place him in +the front rank of its rulers. I wonder if his young wife, Rafaela, is +buried here also?" I drew aside the tangled vines from the near-by +headstones. "She was always a little dearer to me than his second wife, +the proud Dona Maria Ortega, perhaps because Rafaela belonged +pre-eminently to San Francisco. Her father, Ensign Sal, was acting +comandante of the Presidio when Vancouver visited the Coast, and Rafaela +and Luis Argüello grew up together in the little adobe settlement." + +"Go on," said the skeptic, leaning comfortably against a tree trunk. +"This old Mexican governor seems to have had an interesting romance." + +"He wasn't old," I protested, "only forty-six when he died. He was a +splendid type of a young Spanish grandee, tall and lithe of form, with +the dark skin and hair of his race. He combined the freedom born of an +out-of-door life with the courtly manners inherited from generations of +Spanish ancestry. To Rafaela Sal, watching the soldiers file out of the +mud-walled Presidio, it seemed that none sat his horse so straight nor +so bravely as did Don Luis Argüello. And at night to the young soldier +dozing before the campfire in the forest, the billowy smoke seemed to +shape itself into the soft folds of a lace mantilla from which looked +out the smiling face of a lovely grey-eyed girl, framed in an exquisite +mist of copper-colored hair. + +"There was no opposition on the part of the parents to the union of +these young people. The elder Argüello loved the sweet Rafaela as if she +were his own daughter, and Ensign Sal was proud to claim the splendid +young soldier as a son-in-law. So the betrothal was solemnized, but +since Don Luis was a Spanish officer, the marriage must await the +consent of the king, and forthwith papers were dispatched to the court +of Madrid. California was an isolated province in those days and the +packet boat, touching on the shore but twice a year, frequently brought +papers from Spain dated nine months previous, so the older people +affirmed that permission could not be received for two years, while Luis +and Rafaela declared that if the king answered at once--and surely he +would recognize the importance of haste--word might be received in +eighteen months. + +"After a year and a half had passed the young people could talk of +little besides the expected arrival of the boat with an order from the +king. Frequently Luis would climb the hills back of the Presidio where +the wide expanse of the ocean could be seen. At last a sail was +discovered on the horizon and the little settlement was thrown into a +turmoil of excitement. Luis was first at the beach and impatiently +watched the ship make its way between the high bluffs that guarded the +entrance to the bay, and nose along the shore until it came to anchor in +the little cove in front of the Presidio. Had the king's permission +come? he eagerly asked his father, who was running through the papers +handed him by the captain. But the elder man shook his head, and Luis +turned with lagging steps to tell Rafaela that they must wait another +six months. It seemed a long time to the impatient lovers and yet there +was much to make the days pass quickly at the Presidio. The door of the +commodious sala at the home of the comandante always stood wide open, +and almost nightly the feet of the young people which had danced since +their babyhood tripped over the floor of the old adobe building. Picnics +were planned to the woods near the Mission and frequently longer +excursions were undertaken; for El Camino Real was not only, the king's +highway to church and military outposts, but also the royal road to +pleasure, and when a wedding or a fiesta was at the end of a journey, no +distance was counted too great. Luis watched his betrothed blossom to +fuller beauty, fearful lest someone else might steal her away before +word from the king should arrive. + +"A year passed, then another. Packet boats came and went every six +months, bringing orders to the comandante in regard to the +administration of the military forces, concerning the treatment of +foreign vessels, and of numerous other matters, but still the king +remained silent on the one subject which, to the minds of the two young +people, overshadowed all else. Luis rashly threatened to run away with +his betrothed, while Rafaela, frightened, reminded him that there was +not a priest in California or Mexico who would marry them without the +king's order. And so each time the packet boat entered the harbor their +hearts beat with renewed hope and then, disappointed, they watched it +disappear through the Gulf of the Farallones, knowing that months would +pass before another would arrive. + +"Thus six years had gone by since permission had been asked of the king; +six interminable years, they seemed to the lovers. Again the packet boat +was sighted on the distant horizon. Luis saw the full white sails sweep +past the fort guarding the entrance; he heard the salute of the guns and +watched the anchor lowered into the water before he made his way slowly +down to the shore. It would be the same answer he had received so many +times, he was, sure, and he dreaded to put the question again. Ten +minutes later he was racing over the sand-dunes to the Presidio, his +face radiant and his hand tightly clasping an official document. It had +come at last--the order from the king! Where was Rafaela? He hurried to +her house and, folding her close in his arms, be whispered that their +long waiting was at an end; that she was his as long as life should +last. + +"But, oh, such a little span of happiness was theirs! Only two brief +years, and then the cold hand of death was laid upon the sweet Rafaela." + +For a moment my companion did not move. A bird sang in the tree above us +and the wind sent a shower of pink petals over the green mound. Then, +stooping, he picked a white Castilian rose from a tangle of shrubbery +and laid it at the base of the granite shaft. "In memory of the lovely +Rafaela," he said softly; I unpinned a bunch of fragrant violets from my +jacket and placed, them beside his offering, then we silently followed +the shaded path to the white picket gate and were once more on the noisy +thoroughfare. + +"A fitting resting place for the first Mexican governor of California," +he said, glancing back at the heavy façade of the church, "so simple and +dignified. Yet if Luis Argüello had lived in New England, we should have +considered his house of equal importance with his grave and have placed +a bronze tablet on the front, but you Westerners have, so little regard +for old--" + +"If you would like to see the home of Luis Argüello, I will show it to +you. It is at the Presidio." + +"A hopeless mass of neglected ruins, I suppose. But still I should like +to see the old walls, if you can find them." + +"Shall we take the Camino Real on foot, just as the old padres used to?" + +"Not if I have my way. I'll acknowledge that the Spanish friars have +left you Californians one legacy that no Easterner can vie with, that is +your love of tramping over these hills. I've seen streets in San +Francisco so steep that teams seldom attempt them, as is evident from +the grass between the cobblestones, and yet they are lined with +dwellings." + +"Houses that are never vacant," I assured him. "We like to get off the +level, and value our residence real estate by the view it affords." + +Noticing that the sun was now high, my companion drew out his watch. +"Luncheon time," he announced. "Shall it be the Palace or St. Francis +hotel?" + +"Let's keep in the spirit of the times and go to a Spanish restaurant," +I suggested, and soon we were on a car headed for the Latin quarter. + +"May I replace the violets you left at the Mission?" he asked, as +stepping from the car at Lotta's fountain, we lingered before the gay +flower stands edging the sidewalk. + +Before I had a chance to reply a fragrant bunch was thrust into his +hands by an urchin who announced: "Two for two-bits." + +"Two-bits is twenty-five cents," I interpreted, seeing the Easterner's +mystified look. + +"I'll take three bunches." His eyes rested admiringly on the big purple +heads as he held out a dollar bill. + +"Ain't you got any real money?" asked the boy, not offering to touch the +currency. + +Again the man's hand went to his pocket and drew out some small change, +from which he selected a quarter, a dime and three one-cent pieces. The +urchin turned the coppers over in his palm, then, diving below the heap +of violets, he pulled out several California poppies. "We always give +these to Easterners," he announced as he tucked them in among the +violets. + +"I wonder how that boy knew I was an Easterner?" the Bostonian reflected +as we turned away. Then gently touching the golden petals, he asked: +"Where did you get the odd name 'eschscholtzia' for this lovely flower?" + +"It was given by the French-born poet-naturalist, Chamisso, in honor of +the German botanist, Dr. Eschscholz, who came together to San Francisco +on a Russian ship in 1816. However, I like better the Spanish names, +dormidera--the sleepy flower--or copa de oro--cup of gold," I added +as I pinned the flowers to my coat. The man's glance wandered around +Newspaper Corners, when suddenly his look of surprise told me that he +had discovered on this crowded section of commercial San Francisco a +duplicate of the old bell hung in front of the Mission San Francisco de +AsÃs. + +"We are following El Camino Real from the Mission to the Presidio," I +reminded him. + +We turned toward the shopping district, but the lure of the place made +our feet lag. We watched the people purchasing flowers at the corner, +and the little newsboys drinking from Lotta's fountain. + +"A tablet," he exclaimed delightedly, examining the bronze plate +fastened to the fountain. "I didn't know you Westerners ever indulged in +such things. 'Presented to San Francisco by Lotta, 1875,'" he read. + +"Little Lotta Crabtree," I explained, "the sweet singer who bewitched +the city at a time when gold was still more plentiful than flowers, and +her song was greeted by a shower of the glittering metal flung to her +feet by enthusiastic miners. But read the second tablet," I suggested. +"It was placed there with the permission of Lotta." + +"Tetrazzini!" his voice rang with surprise. + +"Can you picture this place surging with people as it was on Christmas +night five years ago, when Tetrazzini sang to San Francisco?" I asked. +"The crowd began to gather long before the appointed time--the wealthy +banker from his spacious home on Pacific Heights, the grimy laborer from +the Potrero and the little newsboy with the badge of his profession +slung over his shoulder. Flushed with excitement, the courted debutante +drew back to give her place to a tired factory girl and close to the +platform an old Italian, who had tramped all the way from Telegraph +Hill, patiently waited to hear the sweet voice of his country woman. +'Tetrazzini is here,' they said to one another; Tetrazzini, who had been +discovered and adored by the people of San Francisco when, as an unknown +singer, she appeared in the old Tivoli opera house. At last she came, +wrapped in a rose-colored opera coat, and was greeted with shouts of joy +from a quarter of a million throats. She was radiant; smiling and +dimpling she waved her handkerchief with the abandonment of a child. The +storm of applause increased, rolling up the street to the very summit of +Twin Peaks. Suddenly the soft liquid notes of a clear soprano fell upon +the air, and instantly the great multitude was wrapped in silence. Out +over the heads of the people the exquisite tones floated, mounting +upward to the stars. It was the 'Last Rose of Summer,' and as she sang +her opera coat slipped from her, leaving her bare shoulders and white +filmy gown silhouetted against the sombre background. She sang again and +again, while the vast throng seemed scarcely to breathe. Then she began +the familiar strains of 'Old Lang Syne,' and at a sign, two hundred and +fifty thousand people joined in the refrain." + +"There is not a city in all the world except San Francisco which could +have done such a thing," enthusiastically rejoined my companion, but the +next instant the eccentricities of the place struck him afresh. + +"Furs and apple blossoms!" he exclaimed, observing a woman opposite. +"What a ridiculous combination!" Then, turning, he scrutinized me from +the top of my flower-trimmed hat to the bottom of my full skirt until my +cheeks burned with embarrassment. "Why, you have on a thin summer silk, +while that woman is dressed for mid-winter!" + +"Of course," I assented. "She's on the shady side of the street." + +But still his face did not lighten. "We've been in the sun all morning," +I continued to explain. "People talk about San Francisco being an +expensive place to live in, but really it is the cheapest in the world. +If a woman has a handsome set of furs, she wears them and keeps in the +shadow, or if her new spring suit has just come home, she puts that on +and walks on the sunny side of the street, being comfortably and +appropriately, dressed in either." + +"Great heavens!" he cried, "what a city!" + +We passed through the shopping district and lingered for a moment at the +edge of Portsmouth Square. My eyes rested affectionately on the +clean-cut lawns and blossoming shrubs. Then I turned to the skeptic, but +before I could speak, he had dismissed it with a nod. + +"Too modern," he commented. "Looks as if it had been planted yesterday. +Now the Boston Common--" + +A rasping discordant sound burst from a near-by store and the Easterner +sent me a questioning glance. + +"A Chinese orchestra," I replied. "We are in Oriental San Francisco." + +"That park was doubtless made as a breathing place for this congested +Chinese quarter," he glanced back at the green square. "A good civic +improvement." + +"That park is a relic of old Spanish days and one of the most historic +spots in San Francisco," I said severely. + +He stopped short. "You don't mean--I didn't suppose there was anything +old in commercial San Francisco." + +"Portsmouth Square was once the Plaza of the little Spanish town of +Yerba Buena, and the public meeting place of the community when there +were not half a dozen houses in San Francisco." + +"Let's go back." He wheeled about abruptly and started in the direction +of the square, but I protested. + +"I am hungry and I want some luncheon!" "Then we'll return this +afternoon." There was determination in his voice. + +"We will hardly have time if we visit Luis Argüello's home at the +Presidio," I objected. + +"All right, we'll take it in tomorrow, then." + +Hastening on, we were soon in the midst of the huddled houses of the +Latin quarter. Tucked away between two larger buildings, we found a +quaint Spanish restaurant. As we opened our tamales, my companion again +referred to Portsmouth Square. + +"Tell me about it," he demanded. "Does it date with the Mission and +Presidio?" + +"No, it is of later birth, but still of equal interest in the history of +San Francisco. The city grew up from three points--the Mission"--I +pulled a poppy from my bouquet and placed it on the table to mark the +old adobe--"the Presidio"--I moved a salt cellar to the right of the +flower--"and the town of Yerba Buena," this I indicated by a pepper box +below the other two. "Roads connected these points like the sides of a +triangle and gradually the intervening spaces were filled with houses." + +"Go on." He leaned back in his chair, but I had already risen. "It will +be more interesting to hear the story on the spot tomorrow," I assured +him as I drew on my gloves. + + + +The Presidio + +The Spanish Fortifications and the Love Story of Concepcion and Rezánov + + + +The Presidio Past and Present + +We hailed a car marked "Exposition" and were soon climbing the hills to +the west. Between the houses, we had fleeting glances of the bay with +its freight of vessels. Here waved the tri-color of France, while next +to it the black, white and red flag of Germany was flung to the breeze, +and within a stone's throw, Johnny Bull had cast out his insignia. At a +little distance the ships of Austria and Russia rested side by side, and +between the vessels the bustling little ferry-boats were churning up the +blue water. + +"It is difficult to picture this bay as it was in early Spanish days," I +said, "destitute of boats and so full of otter that when the Russians +and Alaskan Aleuts began plundering these waters, they had only to lean +from the canoes and kill hundreds with their oars." + +"But what right had the Russian here? Why didn't the Spaniards stop +them? Otter must have brought a good price in those days." There was a +ring of indignation in his voice, that told his interest had been +aroused. + +"San Francisco was helpless. There was not a boat on the bay, except the +rude tule canoes of the Indians--'boats of straw'--Vancouver called +them, and these were no match for the swift darting bidarkas of the +Alaskan natives." + +"And Luis Argüello in command!" + +"I saw my idol falling, and hastened to assure him that the Comandante +had built a boat a short time before, but the result was so disastrous +that he never tried it again. The Presidio was in great need of repair +and the government at Mexico had paid no heed to the constant requests +for assistance, so Comandante Argüello had determined to take matters +into his own hands. The peninsula was destitute of large timber, but ten +miles across the bay were abundant forests, if he could but reach them. +He, therefore, secured the services of an English carpenter to construct +a boat, while his men traveled two hundred miles by land, down the +peninsula to San Jose, along the contra costa, across the straits of +Carquinez and touching at the present location of Petaluma and San +Rafael, finally arrived at the spot selected. In the meantime the +soldiers were taught to sail the craft, and the first ferryboat, at +length started across the bay. But a squall was encountered, the +land-loving men lost their heads, and it was only through Argüello's +presence of mind that the boat finally reached its destination. For the +return trip, the services of an Indian chief were secured, a native who +had been seen so often on the bay in his raft of rushes, that the +Spaniards called him 'El Marino,' the Sailor, and this name, corrupted +into Marin, still clings to the land where he lived. Many trips were +made in this ferry, but the comandante's subordinates were less +successful than he, for one, being swept out to sea, drifted about for a +day or two until a more favorable wind and tide brought him back to San +Francisco. The Spaniards called the land where the trees were felled +'Corte Madera,' the place of hewn-wood, and a little town on the site +still bears the name." + +"But what became of the boat? You said--" + +"Governor Sola was furious that any one should dare to build a boat +without his orders. He called it 'insubordination.' How did he know what +was the real purpose of the craft? Might it not have been built to aid +the Russians in securing otter or to help the 'Boston Nation' in their +nefarious smuggling?" + +My companion straightened with interest, "The Boston Nation?" + +"Yes, even in those days the Yankee skippers, who occasionally did a +little secret trading with the padres, told such marvelous stories of +Boston that the Spaniards thought it must be a nation instead of a +little town. In fact, the United States does not seem to have been +considered of much importance by Spain, for when the American ship +'Columbia' was expected to touch on this coast it was referred to as +'General Washington's vessel.'" + +"Go on with your boat story," a smile played about the corners of his +mouth. "What became of the craft?" + +"The Governor ordered it sent to Monterey and commanded Argüello to +appear before him. The Comandante was surprised to have his work thus +suddenly interrupted but hastened to obey orders. On the way his horse +stumbled and fell, injuring his rider's leg so seriously that when +Argüello reached Monterey, he was hardly able to stand. Without stopping +to have his injury dressed, he limped into the Governor's presence, +supporting himself on his sword. + +"'How dared you build a launch and repair your Presidio without my +permission?' exclaimed the exasperated Governor. + +"'Because I and my soldiers were living in hovels, and we were capable +of bettering our condition,' was the reply. + +"Governor Sola, not noted for his genial temper, raised his cane with +the evident intention of using it, when he noticed that the young +Comandante had drawn himself erect and was handling the hilt of his +naked sword. + +"'Why did you do that?' the Governor demanded. + +"'Because I was tired of my former position, and also because I do not +intend to be beaten without resistance,' Argüello answered. + +"For a moment the Governor was taken back, then he held out his hand. +'This is the bearing of a soldier and worthy of a man of honor,' he +said. 'Blows are only for cowards who deserve them.' + +"Argüello took the outstretched hand and from this time he and the +Governor were close friends. But the boat proved so useful at Monterey, +that it was never returned." + +The Jeweled Tower of the Exposition came into view. "So it is to be the +three months' old World's Fair, after all, instead of the home of the +first Mexican Governor of California?" + +But I did not rise. "The Presidio is just beyond," I explained. Then +seeing him glancing admiringly at the green domes: "Perhaps you would +rather--" + +"No," he answered me, "I'm an antiquary and I want to see the old adobe +house." + +Leaving the car at the Presidio entrance, we passed down the shaded +driveway and along the winding path that led to the old parade ground. +"This military reservation covers about the same ground as the old +Spanish Presidio," I explained. "At that time, however, it was a sweep +of tawny sand-dunes, for the Spaniards had neither the ability nor the +money to beautify the place. After it came into possession of the +Americans, lupins were scattered broadcast as a first means of +cultivation and for a time the undulating hills were veiled in blue. +Later, groves of pine and eucalyptus trees together with grass and +flowers were planted, until now it may be regarded as one of the parks +of San Francisco. This was the original plaza of the old Spanish +Presidio," I continued, as we emerged onto the quadrangle, "and it was +then lined with houses as it is today, only at that time they were crude +adobe structures. Surrounding these was a wall fourteen feet high, made +of huge upright and horizontal saplings plastered with mud, and as a +further means of protection, a wide ditch was dug on the outside. Here +Luis Argüello was Comandante for twenty-three years." + +Our eyes wandered over the substantial structures with their +well-trimmed gardens and rested on a low rambling building opposite, +protected from the gaze of the curious by an old palm and guarded by a +quaint Spanish cannon. The building's simple outlines, even at a +distance, bespoke it as of a different generation from its more +aggressive neighbors, even though its red-tiled roof had been replaced +by sombre brown shingles, and its crumbling walls replastered. We +crossed over the parade ground, and peering within, found that the +building had been converted into an officers' club house. + +"Did you see the bronze tablet on the front?" I demanded. + +"Yes," he admitted rather sheepishly, turning to examine the deep window +embrasure that showed the width of the walls. + +"There's an atmosphere of romance about the old place--" + +"And well there may be," I broke in, "for it was here that Rafaela Sal +came as a bride, and that Rezánov met Luis Argüello's beautiful sister, +Concepcion, and a love story began which may well take place with that +of Miles Standish and Priscilla." + +"Rezánov," he repeated, searching his memory. "I recall that there was a +romance connected with his visit to San Francisco but the details have +escaped me. Please sit down on this bench and tell me the story just as +if I had never heard it before." + +"More than a century ago there dwelt in this old adobe house a beautiful +maiden," I began. "Her father was Comandante of the Presidio, 'el +Santo,' the people termed him, because of his goodness. Concepcion, or +Concha, as she was affectionately called by her parents, was only +fifteen years old when our story begins--a tall, slender girl with +masses of fine black hair and the fair Castilian skin, inherited from +her mother. So lovely was she that many a caballero had already sung at +her grating, but she would listen to none of them. Her lover would come +from over the sea, she declared, someone who could tell her about the +wide outside world. + +"'Then you will die unmarried,' said her mother, kissing the soft cheek, +'for travelers seldom come as far as San Francisco.' + +"'A ship! a ship!' sounded a cry from the plaza. A vessel had been +sighted off Cantil Blanco, the first foreign ship seen since Vancouver's +visit fourteen years before. + +"'It is the Russian expedition which Spain has ordered us to treat +courteously,' exclaimed Don Luis, bursting into the house, his face +aglow with excitement. 'Since father is in Monterey and I am acting +Comandante, I must receive these strangers,' he continued as he threw +his serape over his shoulders, his eyes flashing with his first taste of +command. + +"'Be careful,' cautioned his mother, 'we have had no word from Europe +for nine months and the last packet boat from Mexico brought a rumor of +war with Russia.' + +"But the foreign vessel had come only with friendly intentions. The +Russian Chamberlain Rezánov, in charge of the Czar's northwestern +possessions, had found a starving colony at Sitka and had brought a +cargo of goods to the more productive southland with the hope of +exchanging it for foodstuffs. To be sure, he knew the Spanish law +strictly forbidding trade with foreign vessels, but it seemed the only +means of saving his famishing people and he trusted much to his skill in +diplomacy. + +"A few hours later, Concha, on the qui vive with excitement, saw her +brother approaching with a little company of men, among whom was a tall +well-built Russian officer, whose keen eyes seemed to take in every +detail of the little settlement. + +"Don Luis conducted his guests to the old adobe building, draped in pink +Castilian roses, and into the cool sala, which, although provided with +slippery horse-hair chairs and plain whitewashed walls ornamented with +pictures of the Virgin and saints, was a pleasing contrast to the ship's +cabin. Here he presented his guests to his mother, a woman whose face +still reflected much of the beauty of her youth in spite of her cares +which had come in the rearing of her thirteen children. Beside her stood +Concepcion. Her long drooping lashes swept her cheeks, but when she +raised her eyes in greeting Rezánov saw that they were dark and joyous. +He was a widower of many years, a man of forty-two, who had given little +thought to women during his wandering life, but now he found himself +keenly alive to the charms of this radiant girl. Simple and artless in +her manners, yet possessing the early maturity of her race, she set her +guests at ease and entertained them with stories of life on the great +ranchos, while her mother was busy with household duties. + +"It was ten days before Don José Argüello returned from Monterey and in +the meantime no business could be transacted. During these days Rezánov +saw much of Concepcion, for there was dancing every afternoon at the +home of the Comandante and frequent picnics into the neighboring woods. +It was not long before the Russian learned that Concepcion was not only +La Favorita of the Presidio, but also of all California, for although +born at San Francisco, she had spent much time in her childhood at Santa +Barbara, where her father had been Comandante. With a chain of missions +and ranchos extending from San Diego to San Francisco, there was much +interchange of hospitality, and Concha was a favorite guest at all +fiestas. So the dark eyed Spanish girl had danced her way into the heart +of many a youth as she was now doing into that of this powerful Russian. + +"Often he would stand in the shadow of the deep window casement and +watch her lithe young figure bend in the graceful borego, occasionally +catching a glance from beneath the sweeping lashes that would send his +blood surging through his veins and make him almost forget the purpose +of his voyage. Sometimes he would draw her aside to talk of his hope +that the Spaniards would furnish him bread-stuffs for his starving +colony and he marveled at her keen insight into the affairs of state, +while his heart beat the quicker for her warm sympathy. Often their talk +would wander to other things and as she occasionally flashed a smile in +his direction, showing a row of pearly teeth, his blood tingled and he +thought that the flush on her cheek was not unlike the pink Castilian +rose that was nightly tucked in the soft coils of her shadowy hair. At +times he imagined her clad in rich satin, with a rope of pearls about +her delicate throat, and as he drew the picture he saw her as a star +among the ladies of the Russian court. + +"When Don José Argüello returned, Rezánov asked him for the hand of his +daughter in marriage, but the Comandante indignantly refused. Although +liking the distinguished Russian for himself, he would not listen to +such--a proposal. Give his daughter to a foreigner and a heretic! +Never! It was not to be thought of for an instant. Concha must be sent +away. She must not see this Russian again! He would have her taken to +the home of his brother, who lived near the Mission, until the foreign +ship was out of the bay. While the father talked, the mother hurried to +the padres to beg the good priests to forbid such a union. + +"But Concha was no longer the docile girl of a month ago. She was a +woman and her heart was in the keeping of this sturdy Russian. She would +have him or none, and nothing the padres or her parents could say would +change her. Don José had never crossed his daughter before, and now as +she flung her arms about his neck and begged for her happiness he +weakened. After all, this Russian was a splendid fellow, and perhaps it +might be an advantage to Spain, rather than a detriment to have an ally +at Petrograd. In the end the pleading of Concha and the arguments of +Rezánov won. Comandante Argüello yielded and the betrothal was +solemnized, but there were many obstacles before the marriage could be +consummated. The permission of the Czar of Russia and the King of Spain +must be obtained, and this would take time, as well as involve a long +and dangerous trip. But nothing could daunt the spirits of the lovers. +Concepcion's brother, Luis, had already waited six years for permission +to marry Rafaela Sal and if Rezánov traveled with haste he could return +in two. He must go first to Petrograd to ask the consent of the Czar and +then to the Court of Madrid to promote more friendly relations between +the two countries, finally returning to claim his bride, by way of +Mexico. But before he could start on his journey, his starving Alaskan +colony must be provided for, and after considerable discussion, +arrangements were made for an interchange of commodities, and the hold +of the Russian ship, 'Juno' was packed with foodstuffs for the Sitkans, +while the ladies at the Presidio were resplendent in soft Russian +fabrics and the padres were rejoicing in new cooking utensils for their +large Indian family. + +"At length the 'Juno' weighed anchor and the white sails filled with the +afternoon breeze. As the Russians came opposite Cantil Blanco, the fort +which had scowled so menacingly upon them on their entrance forty-four +days before, now smiled with friendly faces. There was much waving of +hats and many shouts of farewell from the little group on the shore, but +Rezánov saw only the figure of a tall graceful girl with the soft folds +of a mantilla billowing about her head and shoulders and heard only the +murmur of love from the rosy lips. 'Two years,' he whispered back to +her, as the ship passed out through the Gulf of the Farallones and +became but a speck on the sunset sky. + +"The two years passed and still there was no sign of the returning +vessel. Luis Argüello had been married to the lovely Rafaela and a +little son had come to bless their household, and yet Concepcion looked +out over the ocean watching for the white sail of a foreign ship. The +sweet grey eyes of Luis' young wife were closed in death and Concha's +heart and hands went out in sympathetic love and deeds to the stricken +family, all the while trying to still in her own breast the fear that a +like fate had overtaken her loved one. The verdant hills were again +streaked with golden poppies and once more turned to tawny brown and +still no ship nor word came from over the sea. + +"It was eight or ten years before even a rumor of the fate of her lover +reached Concepcion, and not until she met the Englishman, Sir George +Simpson, twenty-five years after Rezánov sailed out of San Francisco +bay, did she learn the details of his death. It was almost winter when, +leaving Alaska, he crossed the ocean and began his perilous trip through +Siberia. Frequently drenched to the skin and undergoing terrible +privations, he traveled for thousands of miles on horseback, now lying +at some wayside inn burning with fever and again pushing on until he +dropped prostrate at the next village. A fall from his horse added to +his already serious condition, which resulted in his death in the little +village of Krasnoiark, and he lies now buried beneath the snows of +Siberia. + +"Although many sought her hand in marriage, Concepcion remained faithful +to her Russian lover. There being no convent for women in the country at +that time, she donned the grey habit of the 'Third Order of St. Francis +in the world,' devoting her life to the care of the sick and the +teaching of the poor. Later when a Dominican convent was established," I +added, rising, "she became not only its first nun, but also its Mother +Superior." + +"A romance that may well take a place with such world-famed love stories +as those of Abèlard and Hèloïse; and Alexandre and Thäis. I should like +to make a pilgrimage to her grave," he added as we left the old adobe +house. + +"You can," I replied. "It's tucked away in a corner of the Benicia +Cemetery, marked by a marble slab carved with her name and a simple +cross." + +We entered a grove of eucalyptus trees, which now and again divided, +giving marvelous views of the bay and the Marin shore. + +But my companion's mind still dwelt on the story he had heard. "So +Concepcion suffered in the uncertainty of hope and despair for ten +years," he said, "but ten months of it brought me to the limit of +endurance. Do you think if Rezánov had returned and Concepcion had +married him and gone to Petrograd she would have been happy?" + +"Of course she would." + +"Still Petrograd is a cold, dreary place compared to California." + +"But what difference would that make? A woman would give up everything +and count it no sacrifice for the man she loved." + +"And you said only yesterday--" + +"Oh, but that was different," I assured him, my cheeks burning under his +gaze. "Rezánov loved California. He thought it so wonderful that he +wanted it for a Russian province, and he would have brought Concepcion +back to visit--" + +"Boston is nearer than Petrograd and not so cold. Don't you think you +could teach me to love California, too?" + +"Perhaps," I acknowledged. Then anxious to turn the conversation, I +asked: "Would you like to see the location of the old Spanish fort?" He +nodded and we took the road leading to the present Fort Point. "I can't +show you the exact location," I confessed, "because the United States +cut down the bold promontory, Cantil Blanco, in order to place the +present fortification close to the water's edge, but if you will use +your imagination and picture a white cliff towering a hundred feet above +the water at the point where Fort Winfield Scott now stands, you will +see the entrance to the bay as it was in Spanish days. Here was located +the old fort, called Castilla San Joaquin, which guarded the harbor for +many years. Made of adobe in the shape of a horseshoe, so perishable +that the walls crumbled every time a shot was fired, still it answered +its purpose, as it was never needed for anything but friendly salutes, +and even these were at times, perforce, omitted. The Russian, Kotzebue, +states that when he entered the harbor he was impressed by the old fort +and the soldiers drawn up in military array, but wondered that no return +was made to his salute. A little later, however, the omission of the +courtesy was explained when a Spanish officer boarded the vessel and +asked to borrow sufficient powder for this purpose. Moreover, Robinson +tells us that frequently during the afternoon's siesta a foreign ship +would pass the fort, drop anchor in Yerba Buena Cove, and spend several +days in the bay before the Presidio officers would know of its presence. +But this was after the time of Luis Argüello." + +One by one the palaces of light in the Exposition grounds below us burst +into radiance. The Horticultural dome turned to a wonderful iridescent +bubble and the Tower of Jewels caught and reflected the light that +played upon it. Wide bands of color streaked the sombre sky, +transforming the clouds to shades of violet, yellow and rose. "The +rainbow colors of promise," he said gently as he drew closer. "I shall +take them as a message of hope that I shall win the love of the woman +who is dearer to me than all else in life!" + + + +The Plaza + +A Chinese Restaurant. Yerba Buena and the Reminiscences of a Forty-Niner + + + +The Plaza and its Echoes + +"Be careful," I warned, "you'll get your feet wet." + +We stood on the corner of Montgomery and Commercial Streets, having +carried out our resolution of the day previous to continue our search +for old landmarks. The Bostonian moved uncomfortably under the warmth of +the noonday sun, and glanced down at the dry, glaring pavement; then he +stooped to turn up his trousers. + +"All right," he announced, "is it an arroyo or has the hose used in +putting out 'the fire' suddenly burst?" + +"Neither. The arroyo was a block further south. It ran down what is now +Sacramento Street, and you ought to know enough about the fire to +realize that we couldn't use our fire hose, because the earthquake broke +the water mains." + +"Then there was an earthquake!" He shot an amused glance at me. "You're +the first Californian I've heard acknowledge it." + +"Oh yes, there was an earthquake--but it didn't do much damage," I +hastened to add. "Just 'knocked down a few chimneys and rickety +buildings that the city was going to pull down anyway. It was the fire +that destroyed the city." + +"So Mother Nature was just favoring 'Frisco by lending a helping hand to +the city officials," he laughed. "Well, you see I'm prepared for the +deluge." He indicated his upturned trousers. "But if it isn't an arroyo--" + +"It's the bay," I explained. "It used to touch the shore about where we +are standing, forming a little inlet called Yerba Buena Cove." + +"But," objected the man, mentally measuring the distance down the +straight paved street to where the slender shaft-like tower of the Ferry +Building broke the sky line, "it must be seven blocks from here to the +present waterfront, two thousand feet at least." + +"Yes, fully that," I agreed. "A large part of the business section of +San Francisco stands on made-land. The water along the shore, here at +Montgomery street, was very shallow, and at the time of the gold rush, +when seven or eight hundred vessels were waiting in the bay to discharge +their freight and passengers, a corporation of energetic Americans built +a long wharf from here to the deep water, where the ships were anchored. +Look down Commercial Street to the Ferry Building and, instead of the +houses on either side, imagine it open to the water. Then you will see +Central Wharf as it was in 'forty-nine.'" + +"Central Wharf!" The name had caught his interest. + +"Yes, it was called that from the one you have in Bost." + +"Bost?" he repeated, mystified. "Bost?" + +"Yes, Bost!" I answered. "You called our, city 'Frisco, not five minutes +ago, so why shouldn't I--" + +"I beg your pardon," he said humbly. "I will never offend in that way +again." + +"But the building of the wharves and the filling in of the waterfront +belong to a later time and we are back in Spanish days. When Vancouver +landed he tells us that he cast anchor within a small inlet surrounded +by green hills, on which herds and cattle were grazing. Historians say +that his ship lay about where the Ferry Building now stands and that the +crew put off for the shore in small boats. This place was a waste of +sand-dunes and chaparral but the Englishmen were refreshed by the cool +waters of the arroyo and spent a pleasant morning shooting quail and +grouse." + +"Quail, grouse and chaparral," he repeated, as his eyes traveled up and +down the solidly built blocks and rested on the pedestrians hurrying in +and out of the buildings. "Let's take a look at the bed of the arroyo." + +We paused at the corner and for a moment watched the car laboriously +climb the Sacramento Street hill and disappear over the crest; then we +turned for another look at the mass of buildings now resting on the +solid ground which had taken the place of the shining waters of Yerba +Buena Cove. + +"It was about here," I announced, "that the arroyo opened out into the +Laguna Dulce, a little fresh water pool where Richardson's Indians +delighted to take a cold plunge on leaving their steaming temescal." + +"Richardson? Hardly a Spanish name!" + +"No, but a Spaniard by naturalization and marriage. He was an Englishman +who had come to the coast in the whaler 'Orion,' and being fascinated by +the country and the carefree Spanish life, had married a lovely little +señorita, the daughter of Lieutenant Martinez, later Comandante of the +Presidio. Richardson settled on a ranch at Sausalito and in 1835, when +Governor Figueroa decided to establish a commercial city on the shore of +Yerba Buena Cove, he appointed as harbor master, this Englishman, who +was already carrying on a small business with the Yankee skippers, and +the future town was made a port of entry for all vessels trading up and +down the coast. Richardson built the first house in the little +settlement of Yerba Buena, afterwards San Francisco." + +"Since this is an historic pilgrimage, we must take a look at the spot +where the first house stood. Is it far?" + +"Only a few blocks," I assured him. "But we shall have to venture into +the heart of Chinatown." + +We made our way up Sacramento Street, where the straight-lined grey +business blocks gave way to fantastic pagoda-like buildings gaily +decorated in green, red, and yellow. Bits of carved ivory, rich lacquer +ware and choice pieces of satsuma and cloisonné appeared in the windows. +In quiet, padded shoes, the sallow-faced, almond-eyed throng shuffled +by, us; here a man with a delicate lavender lining showing below his +blue coat, there a slant-eyed woman with her sleek black hair rolled +over a brilliant jade ornament, leading by the hand a little boy who +looked as if he had stepped out of a picture book with his yellow +trousers and pink coat. + +We turned to the right at Grant Avenue, passing a building conspicuous +on account of its elaborately carved balconies hung with yellow lanterns +and ornamented with plants growing in large blue and white china pots. +The Bostonian looked curiously at the Orientals lounging about the door, +then his face brightened as he read the words, "Chop Suey." + +"It's a Chinese restaurant," he exclaimed delightedly. "Let's go in for +a cup of tea, as soon as we have taken a look at your historic +landmarks." + +On the northwest corner of Grant Avenue and Clay Street, we paused +before a dingy four-story brick building on whose sides were pasted long +strips of red paper ornamented with quaint Chinese characters. I +secretly wished that the building had been designed as a gay pagoda with +bright colored, turned-up eaves like many of those in Chinatown and that +its windows had displayed the choice embroideries and carved ivories of +some of its neighbors, but as we peered through the glass, we saw only +utilitarian articles for the coolie Chinaman. + +"Rather a sordid setting for my story," I bemoaned. "The first house in +commercial San Francisco stood here. It was only a sail stretched around +four pine posts, but two years later was replaced by a picturesque, +red-tiled adobe, so commodious that the Spaniards called it the Casa +Grande. I am afraid the building now occupying the spot where the second +house stood will be equally disappointing," I said ruefully, as we +recrossed the street to where a Chinese butcher and vegetable vender was +displaying his wares. We gazed curiously at the dangling pieces of dried +fish, strings of sausage-like meat, unfamiliar vegetables, lichee nuts +and sticks of green sugar cane. + +"Somewhat different from the silks, satins and laces displayed on this +spot by Jacob Leese in Spanish days," I reflected. "He was a Bostonian, +who like Richardson had become an adopted son of California and settled +at Yerba Buena for the purpose of trading with the American vessels." + +"This must have been a lively business center." The man raised his voice +above the rumble of the wagons and cars. "Two little houses in the midst +of a sea of sand-dunes and no settlement nearer than the Mission." + +"Oh, it didn't take the American long to make things hum," I assured +him. "He arrived here on July second. Two days later he had built a +house and was entertaining all the Spaniards from miles around, at a +grand Fourth of July celebration." + +"Quick work even for a Yankee," laughed my companion. "But rather hard +on his English neighbor, I should think. Did Richardson attend?" + +"Of course he did! Delivered the invitations, too! Leese was busy +building his house, so the Englishman, in his little launch, called at +all the ranchos and settlements about the bay and invited the Spaniards +to come to Yerba Buena for a Fourth of July fandango." + +We retraced our steps and a few doors beyond entered the gay, balconied +restaurant, in quest of a cup of tea served in Oriental style. Climbing +the steep stairs, we passed the first floor where laborers were being +served with steaming bowls of rice; then mounted to the more +aristocratic level where we were seated at elaborately carved teakwood +tables, inlaid with mother-of-pearl. While waiting for our tea, we +stepped onto the balcony which we had regarded with so much interest +from the street. Above us hung the gorgeous lanterns, swaying like +bright bubbles in the breeze, and below moved the silent blue-coated +throng. + +"So there was a Fourth of July celebration here even in Spanish times?" +said the man. "Somewhat prophetic of the American days to come, wasn't +it?" + +We caught a glint of color in the street and leaned far over the balcony +to watch a violet-coated Chinese girl thread her way among the sombre +crowd. + +"It must have been just below us that the early festivities were held," +I suggested. "Leese's house was not large enough to accommodate his +guests, so a big marquee surmounted by Mexican and American flags, and +gaily decorated with bunting, was spread about where the street now +runs. Can't you picture it all? The dainty little señoritas in their +silk and satin gowns, with filmy mantillas thrown over their heads and +shoulders, and the men not less gorgeous in lace-trimmed velvet suits +and elaborate serapes. I can almost hear the applause and the booming of +the cannon that followed General Vallejo's glowing tribute to +Washington, and see the graceful Spanish dancers as they assembled for +the evening ball. It was doubtless at this time that Leese met General +Vallejo's fascinating sister, whom he married after a short and +business-like courtship." + +"Short, and she a Californian?" He sent me an amused glance. + +"Perhaps Leese thought delay dangerous," I suggested, "for Señorita +MarÃa Rosalia was one of the belles of the new military outpost at +Sonomá and more than one gaily clad caballero was suing for her hand." + +"No wonder the American pushed the matter," laughed my companion. "Did +many Boston men marry Spanish Señoritas?" + +"Nearly all who came to the Coast," I answered. "The California women +were among the most fascinating in the world and held a peculiar charm +for these sturdy New Englanders." + +"I can understand that," he said, bending for a better look at my face. +"But what could the dainty señoritas see in these crude; raw-boned +Yankees?" + +"Just what any woman would see," I declared. "Men of sterling character, +working against terrible odds, with that courage which does not know the +word failure. They saw men of perseverance, energy and brains who were +bringing into the country the indomitable spirit of New England." + +"I am glad you have a good word for the early Yankees," he said, "and I +wish your enthusiasm extended to a later generation." + +He turned toward me and I felt the telltale color sweep my cheeks as I +became conscious that I was thinking less of Leese and his compatriots +than of the Bostonian at my side. + +"It wasn't the New England spirit," he declared, "that gave these early +settlers the strength and determination to succeed. It was the women who +had faith in them. A man can accomplish anything if the woman he loves-- +" My companion had moved close to my side, and his voice was low as he +bent over me. "Little girl," he began, "last year in Boston when you +came into my life--" + +The harsh jangle of a Chinese orchestra broke the dull murmur of the +street and in an instant the little balcony was crowded with gazers +eager to catch a glimpse of the musicians through the windows opposite. + +My companion and I moved aside for the new corners and turned again +toward the interior. Through the open door we could see the waiter +placing steaming cups of tea upon the table we had deserted, and +re-entering the room, we seated ourselves in the big carved arm-chairs. +Sipping the delicious beverage, we glanced toward the other tables, +where groups of Chinamen were talking in a curious jargon and +dexterously handling the thin ebony chop-sticks. On the wide +matting-covered couches extending along the sidewalls, lounged +sallow-faced Orientals, while in and out among the diners noiselessly +moved the waiters, balancing on their heads, large brown straw trays. +Snowy rice cakes, shreds of candied cocoanut, preserved ginger and brown +paper-shell nuts with the usual Chinese eating utensils were placed +before us. We tried the slender chop-sticks with laughable failure and +then, declaring that fingers were made first, we had no further trouble. +We took a farewell look at the gilt carved screens and long banners, +which in quaint Chinese characters wished us health and happiness. Then +following our smiling attendant to the door, we were bowed down the +stairway. A Chinaman leaned over the railing and called the amount of +our bill to the attendant on the second floor, who like an echo took it +up and sent it on to the main entrance, where we settled our account. + +Again on the sidewalk, we mingled with the Oriental throng whose +expressionless yellow faces gave no hint of joy or sorrow. At the corner +we turned east and made our way toward Portsmouth Square. I paused and +let my eyes run over my companion, from his emaculate linen collar to +his well-polished shoes. + +"You'll look sadly out of place here," I warned. "No artist would ever +take such a well-groomed person for a model, nor would you be suspected +of belonging to the great army of the unemployed." + +"Are they the only classes allowed? Then I speak now for the purchasing +right of your portrait." + +"Oh, I'll pose very well as the 'Amelican' teacher of those little +Chinese butterflies fluttering after that kite. Aren't they attractive +in their lavender, pink, and blue sahms?" I said, as we seated ourselves +on the bench. + +"To be honest, to be kind, to earn a little, to spend a little less,'" +he read from the face of the fountain standing against a clump of trees +whose soft foliage drooped caressingly over it. "Why, that's from +Stevenson's Christmas sermon. Look at that unappreciative brute! He +drank without reading a word!" exclaimed the man indignantly. + +"Yes, but he feels the better for coming here. He received the +refreshment most needed and that is what Stevenson would have wished. +Some other may need and will receive the spiritual help." + +"Why is it here?" he asked. + +"Because Stevenson loved this place and came often to sit on the benches +and study the wrecked and drifting lives of the men who lounged in the +square." + +"And the gilded ship on top with its full blown sails--that must +suggest his Treasure Island, doesn't it?" + +"Yes, and also the Manila Galleon, that splendid treasure-ship ladened +with silk, wax and spices from the Philippines and China, which once +each year made its landfall near Cape Mendocino and followed the line of +the coast down to Mexico." + +He leaned with arm outstretched along the back of the bench and surveyed +the park. + +"This, you said, was the old Spanish Plaza. What was here then?" + +"At first just a sweep of tawny sand-dunes, surrounded by scrub oak and +chaparral." I dropped my eyes to the gravel walk, that I might shut out +the emerald green lawns, and flowering shrubs. "Over the shifting +hillocks wandered a little minty vine bearing a delicate white and +lavender flower not unlike your trailing arbutus. It was from the +medicinal qualities of this plant that the little settlement was named +Yerba Buena, the good herb. Over there on the northwest corner where +that dingy Chinese restaurant now floats the flag of Chop Suey stood the +old adobe Custom House, the first building erected on the Plaza, and it +was in front of this that the Stars and Stripes were run up when General +Montgomery, who had arrived in the sloop-of-war Portsmouth, took +possession in the name of the United States." + +"So that is where the square got its name--from the ship 'Portsmouth?'" +His voice rang with the joy of discovery. + +"Yes, but the new name never completely replaced the old. We love the +terms which come to us from Spanish days, and so, to many of us, this is +still the Plaza." + +"I presume there was a great outcry when Montgomery pulled down the +Mexican flag and ran up the American. But I understand the country was +helpless." + +"Yes, it was poorly fortified, and the Californians had known for some +time that Mexico was losing its hold, so the event was not unexpected. +But there was no flag to pull down for the receiver of customs, +realizing that resistance was useless, had packed the Mexican flag in a +trunk with his official papers for safe keeping, so without opposition +General Montgomery marched with seventy men accompanied by fife and drum +from the waterfront to the Plaza, and raised the Stars and Stripes on +the vacant flag pole. Thus the country came into the possession of the +Americans and our historic pilgrimage is at an end," I concluded, +rising. + +But my companion seemed loath to leave the place. We sauntered by +dark-eyed Italian girls lolling on the benches, shaggy bearded old +sailors, whose scarred faces told of fierce battles with the elements, +and stopped to examine the plaster casts presented for our inspection by +a weary-eyed street vender. At a distance, a laughing gypsy girl in a +white waist and much beruffled red plaid skirt was enticing the crowd to +cross her hand with silver that she might tell their fortunes. + +"What need have we for gypsies?" he demanded pulling me down on a bench. +"I'll, read your palm." + +"Can you tell fortunes?" I questioned as I drew off my glove. + +"I can tell yours," he declared straightening out my fingers in his big +strong hand, and examining the lines. + +"He's a tall dark man, wearing glasses--" + +Instinctively I looked up into the uncovered brown eyes, then dropped +mine in confusion as I met his laughing gaze. + +"Only when he reads," added the Bostonian, holding on to my fingers, as +I tried to withdraw my hand. + +An angry voice broke the silence and we sprang to our feet to see an old +man shaking his fist in the face of a young Irish policeman. + +"You let me alone!" he shouted. "You let me alone!" + +For a moment the officer hesitated. Then he seized the old man by the +collar. "Come along quietly! There ain't no use making a howl. There's a +vagrancy law in this city and I'll show you it ain't to be sniffed at. +I've been watching you ever since I've been on this beat and you ain't +done nothing but sit around this Plaza." + +"And ain't I a right to sit 'round this Plaza?" The man pulled himself +free and again defied the officer of the law with a clenched fist. +"Didn't I help make it? When you were playing with a rattle in your crib +over in Dublin, I was a-stringing up a man to the eaves of the old +Custom House over there on the corner. And now you try to arrest me--me +a Vigilante of '51--" His fury choked him, and with a quick turn of the +hand, the officer again had him by the collar. But the old man wrenched +himself loose. + +"You keep your hands off me." He raised his angry voice in warning. Then +drawing a bundle of papers from his pocket he thrust them into the +officer's face. "Look at that--and that--and that--biggest business +blocks in San Francisco. If I choose to wear a loose shirt and sit +'round the Plaza it isn't any business of yours. In the good old days of +forty-nine--" + +I touched the Bostonian on the arm. "Let's go to the Exposition," I +suggested. "We've seen everything here." + +"There's no need to hurry! We've all the afternoon before us." He edged +a little closer to the old man, about whom a crowd was gathering. + +"In the good old days of forty-nine," rang out again and I glanced +nervously at my companion. "We didn't have any dipper-dapper policemen +making mistakes." He snapped his fingers in the officer's face. "We had +good red-shirted miners who knew their business." + +The policeman moved uneasily and handed back the papers. "I guess +they're all right," he acknowledged. "The law doesn't seem to touch +you." + +"Touch me! Well, I guess not!" The officer moved off and the old man +returned to his bench. Before I realized my companion's intention, we +were seated beside the miner. He was still muttering maledictions on the +head of the Irish policeman. + +"The scoundrel!" He dug his stick into the gravel path. "Had the nerve +to arrest me! Me, who strung up Jenkins in the first Vigilante +Committee, and Casey and Cora in the second." + +"You must have come here in early days," remarked the Bostonian. + +"Early days," echoed the miner, "well, I guess I did. I'm a +forty-niner." He straightened himself proudly and looked to see the +effect of his words. + +"I think we had better go." Again I touched the Antiquary's arm but he +gave no heed to my signal. + +"There must have been some stirring times here in the days of the gold +rush." + +"You bet there were," agreed the forty-niner, "and the entire history of +San Francisco was made around this Plaza. Here were built the first +hotel, the first school-house, the first bank; within a stone's throw +the first Protestant sermon was preached, the first newspaper was +printed and the first post office was opened. It was through the Plaza +that Sam Brannan ran with a bottle of yellow dust in one hand, waving +his hat with the other and shouting, 'Gold! gold! from the American +River!' It was here that the big gambling houses sprang up, where +fortunes were made and lost in a night, and here the first Vigilance +Committee met and executed justice." The old man paused for breath. + +I was on the edge of the bench ready for flight. All my good work of the +last two days was rapidly being undermined. I heard again the skeptic's +contemptuous tone of yesterday. "It's either before the fire" or "in the +good old days of forty-nine." + +"We--we must go," I stammered, "it's getting very late." The Bostonian +looked at his watch. "Not three o'clock yet." He leaned back +comfortably. "You ought to be interested in this. Your grandfather was a +forty-niner." + +I looked at him searchingly. I ought to be interested! I, who cherished +every memory of pioneer days! I, who had bitten my lips a dozen times +that afternoon, and was glorying in the tact and strength of mind which +had avoided this period of our history! + +The miner, apparently aware of my presence for the first time, sent me a +piercing glance from beneath his shaggy eyebrows. "So your grandfather--" + +"He wasn't exactly a forty-niner," I acknowledged. "He arrived outside +the Heads the night of December thirty-first but there was a heavy fog +and the vessel didn't get inside until the next morning." + +"Hard luck," sympathized the old man, "coming near to being a +forty-niner and missing it." + +"But it's practically the same thing," persisted the Bostonian. "Only a +few hours." + +"The same thing!" scornfully repeated the miner. "There's as much +difference as between Christmas and Fourth of July. A forty-niner's a +forty-niner, and a man that came in fifty--well, he might as well have +come in sixty or seventy, or even in the twentieth century. It's the +forty-niner that counts in this community." He drew himself up proudly. +Then plunging his hand deep into his pocket, drew out a nugget. + +"Picked that up off my first claim," he explained, "but the dirt didn't +pan out so well. I've carried it in my pocket all these years, just for +the sentiment of the thing, I suppose. Many a time I was tempted to +throw it on a table in the El Dorado, but I hung on to it." + +"The El Dorado?" questioned the Easterner. + +"Yes, one of the big gambling places here on the Plaza. Everybody took a +chance in those days, even some of the preachers. You met all your +friends there, and heard the best music and the latest news." + +"Did they gamble with nuggets?" my companion led the old man on. + +"Well, I guess they did! and gold dust in piles. The few children in +town used to pan out the dirt of the Plaza in front of the Temples of +Chance every morning after the places were swept out. The Californians +put up parts of their ranchos, too, sometimes." + +"How high did the stakes run?" Evidently this descendant of the Pilgrims +had not lost all the sporting blood of his earlier English ancestors. + +"Often as high as five hundred or a thousand dollars. The largest stake +I ever saw change hands was forty-five thousand. Many a miner went back +to the placers in the spring without a dollar in his pockets. But +everybody was doing it and you could almost count the nationalities in +the crowd around the table by the kinds of coins in the stacks. There +were French francs, English crowns, East Indian rupees, Spanish pesos +and United States dollars. The dress was as different as the money. We +miners wore red and blue shirts, slouch hats and wide belts to carry our +dust. The Californians were gorgeous in coats trimmed in gold lace, +short pantaloons and high deer-skin boots, and the Chinese ran a close +second in their colored brocaded silks. You knew the professional +gamblers by their long black coats and white linen--real gentlemen, many +of 'em and the most honest in the country. + +"Ever see a picture of the Plaza in forty-nine," he asked abruptly. + +"Never." + +The miner drew a square on the gravel path with his stick. "The El +Dorado was here, the Veranda here and the Bella Union here," he said, +punching holes on the three corners of Kearny and Washington. "They were +the finest and they had the best locations in town. The El Dorado paid +forty thousand dollars a year for a tent and twenty-five thousand a +month for a building on the same site later." The end of his stick +deepened the hole on the southeast corner. + +My eyes wandered from the plan to the real location. "Why, there is the +name 'Veranda' over there now," I exclaimed as the black letters on a +white awning caught my eye. + +"Yes, it is pretty near the old site, but it's a poor substitute for its +predecessor," he added scornfully. "There was great style in those days +--fine bars, lots of glass and mirrors and pictures worth thousands of +dollars. The doors were always open from eleven in the morning 'til +daylight the next morning, and a steady stream of people were pouring in +and out all the time. Everybody was there. There weren't no special +inducement to stay home nights, when your residence was a bunk on the +wall of a shanty and the fellers over you and under you and across the +room weren't even acquaintances. I got a pretty good room after awhile +in the Parker House"--he drew a small oblong south of the El Dorado-- +"for a hundred dollars a week, but I didn't stay long." + +"I should think not--at that price." + +"Oh, it wasn't the price. One of my friends paid two hundred and fifty. +But you see it got pretty warm at the Parker House, that Christmas eve, +and so we all moved. They cleared away the hot ashes of the hotel and +built the Jenny Lind Theatre on the spot. That was the first big fire. +We had them right along after that, every few weeks. Six big ones in +eighteen months, with lots' of little ones in between." + +"Then the last fire wasn't a new experience for you," the Bostonian +suggested. + +"Lord, no! Rebuilding was a habit with us early San Franciscans. We +didn't begin to feel sorry for a man 'til he'd lost everything he owned +three times. The Jenny Lind Theatre went down six times and the seventh +building was sold for the City Hall. It stood right there"--he pointed +to the handsome new Hall of Justice--"until it went up in the last +fire." + +"You are sure it wasn't the earthquake that finished it?" inquired the +skeptic. + +"Certainly not," I flared. "The Relief Committee met there that morning +to lay their plans while the fires were raging south of Market Street." + +He acknowledged defeat by changing the subject. "Was the old Spanish +Custom House here?" he asked, pointing to the western side of the +diagram. + +"Yes," assented the miner, and he traced an oblong on the northern end, +"and just behind it, on Washington Street, was Sam Brannan's house. He +was the Mormon leader, you know, and brought a shipload of his followers +to establish a settlement in forty-six. He published our first +newspaper, the 'California Star,' in his house." + +"Was it where that little green Chinese building with the bracketed +columns and turned-up eaves is?" I interposed. + +"The telephone exchange, you mean? Exact spot. They used to ring a hand +bell in the Plaza on Sunday mornings to call the Mormons to hear Brannan +preach in the Casa Grande." + +"Richardson's house!" My companion sent me an appreciative glance. + +"Sure, but that was before most of 'em, including Sam, went back on +their faith. Next to the Custom House on the south," he continued, "was +the Public Institute. It wasn't much to look at--just pine boards--but +it was considerable useful. They held the Public School there and had +preaching on Sundays 'til the teacher, the preacher and all the audience +went off to the mines. They tried the Hounds there, too." + +"The Hounds?" my friend looked dazed. + +"Yes, the Sidney Coves that lived in Sidneyville, along there on Kearny +near Pacific." Light had failed to dawn. + +"Here on the corner of Kearny," continued the Forty-niner, "was an old +adobe building with a red-tiled roof and a veranda around it." + +"The City Hotel!" I exclaimed delightedly. + +"How did you know?" He eyed me curiously. + +"My grandfather was a near-forty-niner," I reminded him. + +"Oh yes. Too bad! Too bad!" he added sympathetically. "It was the house +and store of a fellow named Leidesdorff," he continued, "who did a lot +of trading with the Yankee skippers in Mexican days, and it was turned +into a hotel in the gold rush. It was always the swell place for +blowouts. They had a big banquet and ball there for Governor Stockton, +I'm told, after the procession and speeches in the Plaza, and another +the next year for Governor Kearny; the first Relief Committee met here, +called by Brannan, Howard and Vallejo, to send rescuers to the Sierras +for the survivors of the Donner Party. There wasn't much of any +importance in the way of gathering that didn't happen there." + +We instinctively looked across at the square, three-story, pressed-brick +home of the Chinese Consulate and bank. + +"Every big fire took at least one side of the Plaza, and the sixth, in +June of fifty-one, wiped out the whole square. That adobe was the last +link between the Spanish village of Yerba Buena and its American +successor, San Francisco," he regretted, "but it was a good thing for +the city, for they began to build with stone and brick after that. Did +you see the Parrott Building, as you came along, on California and +Montgomery?" he asked. + +The Easterner turned to me. "You didn't show me that," he said, +reprovingly. + +"No, why should I? It wasn't built until fifty-two." + +He ignored my insinuation and turned back to his informer. "What about +the Parrott Building? It sounds like an aviary." + +"Not exactly," he smiled. "It was made of granite blocks, cut and +dressed and marked in China and then shipped over and set up by the +'China Boys,' as the Orientals here called themselves." + +"It's a curious coincidence," I ventured, "that the Hong Kong Bank now +occupies the lower floor. What a freak of the winds it was that swept +the big fire around that and the Montgomery block, and left them both +for posterity!" + +"Your fire seemed to have had a special veneration for historic +structures," the Easterner commented. "It respected the Mission in like +manner." + +"Yes, somewhat," returned the miner, "but it might have had a little +more respect and spared the Tehama House and the What Cheer House. I +hated to see them go." + +"And the Niantic Hotel and Fort Gunnybags," I added. + +"Here! Here! I rise for a point of information," cried the alien. "Did +the cheer inebriate and what is the technical difference between +gunny-sacks and carpet bags?" + +"Oh, that was our Vigilance Headquarters of fifty-six, where we hung +Casey and Cora," elucidated the Forty-niner. + +"Help," gasped the Bostonian, sinking upon the bench. + +"Tell him," I nodded to the miner. + +"The Tehama House, on the waterfront at California and Sansome, was the +swell hotel for army and navy people and all the Spanish rancheros when +they came to town. You couldn't keep even your thoughts to yourself in +that house, for it had thin board sidings and cloth and paper +partitions, but it had lots of style, and Rafael set a great table. They +moved it over to Montgomery and Broadway to make room for the Bank of +California, and the fire caught it there. The What Cheer House," the old +man's eyes brightened, "was on Sacramento and Leidesdorff, and that's +where we miners went, if we could get in. Woodward was a queer chap. +Took you in whether you could pay or not. But it was only a man's hotel. +There wasn't a woman allowed about the place. He had the only library in +town and everybody was welcome to use it. I've often seen Mark Twain and +Bret Harte reading at the table." + +"And the sacks?" queried the Bostonian. + +But the old man had leaned back on the bench and his eyes wandered over +the green grass and trees of the square. "It's much prettier than it +used to be," he admitted, "but nothing happens here now. The Chinese +children fly kites and the unemployed loaf on the benches and the grass, +and I'm one of them. I wish you could have seen it in the early days." +His eyes kindled with excitement. "It was only a barren hillside, but +there was always something doing then. All the town meetings were held +here in the open air and all the parades ended here for the speeches. +The biggest celebration was in 1850, when the October steamer, flying +all her flags, brought the news that California was admitted to the +Union. We went wild, for we had waited for that word for more than a +year. Every ship in the harbor displayed all her bunting and at night +every house was as brilliant as candles and coal oil could make it. +Bonfires blazed on all the hills and the islands and we had music and +dancing all over the town 'til morning." + +He paused in reminiscence. "But it wasn't so gay that moonlight night, +the next February, when we hung Jenkins. He was a Sidney Cove and had +just stole a safe, but that was the least of his crimes and of the whole +gang. When we Vigilantes heard the taps on the firebell here in the +Plaza, we gathered in front of the committee rooms. Nobody was excited; +we just had to drive out the Sidney Coves and put an end to crime. We +marched Jenkins here and hung him over there to the beam on the south +end of the Custom House. Forty of us pulled on the rope, while a +thousand more stood 'round as solemn as a prayer meeting to give us +moral support and shoulder the responsibility. It wasn't no joke hanging +a man, but it had to be done, if decent men was to live here." + +He shook off his depression. "Everybody was in the Plaza sometime in the +day, and once a month when Telegraph Hill signaled a steamer, everybody +was here." + +"Telegraph Hill? I never heard of it," he cast an accusing glance in my +direction. + +"It belongs to forty-nine," I retorted. + +"All the shops closed immediately," continued the miner, "and Postmaster +Geary was the most important man in town. The post-office was a block up +the hill at Clay and Pike Streets, but the lines from the windows +stretched down into the Plaza, and over among the tents and chaparral on +California Street Hill. Men stood for hours, sometimes all night, in the +pouring rain, and many a time I sold my place for ten dollars, and even +twenty, to some fellow who had less patience or less time than I. + +"But you should have been here on election day in fifty-one." The miner +threw back his head and laughed aloud. "Colonel Jack Hays was running +for sheriff," he resumed, "and his opponent hired a band to play in +front of his store here on the Plaza as an advertisement. It worked +fine! He was polling all the votes and the Colonel was about out of the +running, 'til he got on his horse that he'd used on the Texas ranges and +came cavorting into the square. He showed 'em some fancy turns they +weren't used to and kept it up 'til the polls closed." + +"Did he win?" I asked excitedly. + +"Well, I guess he did! Hands down. But a sheriff ain't no use when the +laws won't stick. That's why we had to have the Vigilance Committees." + +I arose. That was a long story and the afternoon was fast going. My +companion took the hint. He extended his hand and grasped the old +miner's heartily. + +"I thank you," he said, "you have opened up a new epoch to me and I +shall not soon forget you. I shall come again and the place will have +lost much of its interest if you are not here." + +"Oh, I'll be here," laughed the old fellow. "It's home to me." + + + +Telegraph Hill + +The Latin Quarter. The signal station of '49 and a view of the city as +it was. The Golden Gate. + + + +Telegraph Hill of Unique Fame + +"Would you like to go up 'crazy owld, daisy owld Telegraft Hill'," I +asked in a softened mood as we moved away. "There is just about time." + +"Indeed I should," he answered. "Can we take in some of the other things +you archaeologists were mentioning on the way? I don't want to miss +anything." + +"We must leave the Parrott and Niantic buildings until some other day, +but you can see the Montgomery Block if you wish," and we turned down +Washington Street. "It was built on piles, by General Halleck's law +firm. William Tecumseh Sherman's bank was nearby, but I suppose most of +Boston's business men were generals-in-chief of the United States Army." + +My irony was ignored and as we reached the corner of Montgomery, I +continued: "It was on this spot that James King of William, editor of +the 'Bulletin,' was shot down by James P. Casey, the ballot-box stuffer. +The newspaper office was at the other end of the block on Merchant +Alley, and that evening's editorial accused Casey of electing himself +supervisor and stated that he was an ex-convict from Sing Sing. Within +an hour after the paper appeared, Mr. King was carried dying to his room +in the same building. It was this murder that brought the second +Vigilance Committee into existence. While the immense funeral cortège, +the largest San Francisco has ever known, escorted the body of Mr. King +up this street toward Lone Mountain Cemetery, Casey and Cora, another +criminal, were hung in front of the Vigilance, Headquarters on +Sacramento near Front." + +"You called it Fort Gunnybags ?" he queried. + +"Yes, it was so named from the precautionary bulwark of sand-filled +sacks piled up in a hollow square in front to protect the entrance. A +bronze plate marked the old building before the fire." + +We turned into Columbus Avenue. "Your beloved Stevenson used to live at +No. 8, there on the gore where the Italian Bank is," I said. "We are +coming to the Latin Quarter, a section that has always been given over +to foreigners, for in early days 'Sidneyville,' peopled by +ticket-of-leave men from the penal colony of Australia, and 'Little +Chile' of the Peruvians and Chileans, clustered close around the base of +Telegraph Hill." + +"The very place Stevenson would choose, where life was flavored with +history and the mystery of the foreign. But where are you going?" he +exclaimed, stopping short as I began to ascend the steps by which Kearny +Street climbs the hill. + +"I thought you wished to see the site of the Marine Signal Station." I +looked down at him from the fourth stair with feigned surprise. + +"I do, indeed, but--can't we go up by a funicular and come down this +way?" he compromised. "My Boston calves protest." + +"Oh well, we can go by the level a little farther, but I thought you +liked the 'flavor of the foreign.' Anyway, we ought to see Earl +Cummings' old man," I remembered. + +"What is his fatherland and his business?" he asked as his eye traveled +over the shop signs "Sanguinetti, Farmacia Italiana," "Molinari & +Cariani, Grocers;" "Oliva & Brizzolara, Real Estate." + +"His birthplace is the World Universal, and his profession-leading us +back to nature," I answered. Then, as we passed the spick and span +concrete façade of the Patronal Church of St. Francis, with its rear of +burned brick: "This is the direct descendent of the old Mission," I told +him, "the first Parish Church of San Francisco. It was gutted by the +fire and is being very gradually restored. A notice within administers +an implied rebuke: 'The First Erected--the Last Restored.'" + +We paused at the iron fence of the small green triangle cut off from +Washington Square by the slant of Columbus Avenue, and peered at the +fine bronze figure of a sinewy old man stooping to drink from his hand +on the edge of the little pool. + +"Mr. Cummings' message to his universal brothers," he commented. "None +could fail to be refreshed by it. My strength is renewed. Let us +ascend," and he turned up Filbert Street. + +Dark-eyed women lounged in the doorways of the houses that cling to the +perpendicular sides of the hill. "The Italian pervades," I volunteered, +"but there are Greek, Sicilians, Spaniards and French." The whole was +reminiscent of the South of Europe, but the Neapolitan scene of cleated +walks and steep steps lacked the enlivening color notes of the homeland. + +"Not even a red shirt on a clothes line," I regretted, but a flood of +soft voweled Italian from a woman in a third story window, musically +answered by a man in the street below, brought consolation. + +"The opera's own tongue," the Bostonian commented. + +"Well, you leave it to me," finished the man in the street. + +"Sure, Mike, I will," responded the woman. + +My companion halted in consternation. + +"We make American citizens of them all," I asserted. + +"Les petits enfants aussi," I added as a child ran past, shouting a +response in irreproachable English to the Parisian command of her +mother. + +We turned through the rude stone wall into Pioneer Park and along the +unkept paths shaded by eucalyptus, cypress and acacia trees and came +upon the open height where the mountain-hemmed bay lay in broad expanse +before us, dotted with islands and with ferries streaking their way +across its blue-gray surface. + +"Wonderful," he exclaimed under his breath. + + '"O, Telegraft Hill, she sits proud as a Queen, + And th' docks lie below in th' glare,'" + +I quoted from Wallace Irwin. + +He lowered his gaze to the numerous wharves running out into the water, +with teams appearing and disappearing at the entrances of the covered +docks, like lines of busy ants. + + "'And th' bay runs beyant her, all purple and green + Wid th' gingerbread island out there,'" + +I continued the quotation. + +"What are those terraced buildings?" he queried. + +"It has been the military prison for years. It is Alcatraz Island." + +He looked his inquiry. + +"Spanish for Pelican," I answered, seating myself on a rock. "Ayala, the +captain of the 'San Carlos,' the first ship to enter the bay, named it +from the large number of the birds he found on it, and the big island to +the right that looks like a portion of the main land is Angel Island, +abbreviated from Ayala's Isla de Nuestra Señora de los Angeles." + +"And Goat Island?" he questioned as he threw himself down on the grass. + +"Yerba Buena," I corrected. "The other name was colloquially applied +when Nathan Spear, being given some goats and kids by a Yankee skipper, +put them over there. There were several thousand on the island in +forty-nine, but the Americans killed them all off by night in spite of +Spear's protests." + +"Not all of them," he denied as he shied a stick at a white head +reaching from below for a grassy clump. + + "'And th' goats and chicks and brickbats and sticks + Is joombled all over the face of it, + Av Telegraft Hill, Telegraft Hill, + Crazy owld, daisy owld Telegraft Hill,'" + +I laughed. + +"I suppose the Spaniards must have had a name for this sightly hill," +said the Bostonian, his eye tracing the rugged skyline across the bay, +along the Tamalpais Range on the north, and the San Antonio Hills on the +east. + +"Yes, Anza christened it in 1776 when he climbed up here for a view +after selecting the sites for the Presidio and the Mission. He called it +La Loma Alta, and the High Hill it remained until the Americans put it +to commercial use in forty-nine. The little town on the edge of the cove +in the hollow of the hills was unconscious of a ship entering the harbor +until she rounded Clark's Point, the southeast corner of this hill, and +dropped anchor in full view--" + +"Any relation to Champ?" he interrupted. + +"No, Clark was a Mormon, although he afterward denied it, who had built +a wharf in the deep water along the precipitous bluff, where ships could +always disembark even when the ebb-tide uncovered mud-flats elsewhere +along the shore of the cove. + +"The American miners and merchants, eager for the earliest news of the +approaching mails and merchandise, erected a signal station on the top +of Loma Alta, about where that flag-pole is. When a vessel was seen +entering the Golden Gate, the black arms of the semaphore on top of the +building were raised in varying positions indicating to the watching +town below, where every one knew the signals, whether it was a bark, a +brig, a steamer or other kind of craft. This was the first wireless +station on the coast. + +"There comes a side-wheeler," I exclaimed, raising my arms upward in a +slanting position, as a big liner from Yokohama entered the channel. +"Now fancy every office and bank closed, every law-court adjourned, +every gaming table deserted; the shore black with people and long lines +forming from the post-office windows to await the anchoring of the +vessel, the landing of friends and freight, and the sorting of the mail +by Postmaster Geary." + +My companion made a telescope of his two hands and examined the Nippon +Maru. "You are discharged for inefficiency," he said. "You are reporting +a side-wheeler for a screw-propeller." + +"There is no signal in the code for such modern inventions," I retorted. +"I suppose the fog of your practical realism is too obscuring for you to +see that clipper just coming in," I continued, as a full-rigged ship +spread its filled sails against the glowing sky of the late afternoon. + +"The lady is a bit sarcastic, Billy," he addressed the goat, "but we'll +examine it." Then peering through his telescoped hands again, "It's the +clipper ship Eclipse," he announced, "built especially for speed, in the +exigencies of the San Francisco trade, with long, narrow hull, and +carrying an extra amount of canvas. She has made the trip from New York +in three-quarters of the time required by any other kind of craft, and +demands, therefore, nearly double the price for freight." He looked at +me for approval. + +"What a whetstone for the imagination the business sense is!" I +commented. "Perhaps if your grandfather owned shares in the Eclipse, you +will be able to see the second signal station erected the next year on +Point Lobos, just beyond the Fort. From there a vessel could be decried +many miles outside the Heads and the signal repeated by the station here +on Telegraph Hill, relieved the inhabitants of several more hours of +anxiety." + +"Anxiety is a mild term if one couldn't hear for a whole month from the +girl who had his heart," he commented. "It's bad enough when she won't +write, even with a telegraph and railroad between." He was tracing some +characters in the ground at my feet, with a stick. "Thirty-four days," I +made out. + +"If you've sufficiently recovered from the climb, shall we see how the +city looks from up here?" I asked. + +For answer he sprang up and assisted me to my feet. We walked to the +opposite side of the park, where the city lay extended before us. + +"Imagine a forest of masts here in the bay, about seven or eight +hundred; the water laying Montgomery Street beyond the Merchants' +Exchange--that yellow brick building with the little arched cupola; and +wharves running out from every street to reach the ships lying in deep +water, every one swarming with teams and men hurrying to and fro. +Connect them with piled walks over the water on the lines of Sansome and +Battery Streets and you have a picture of Yerba Buena Cove in +forty-nine. Heap up freight and baggage on the shore, erect thousands of +tents on the sand dunes around the edges of a town of shanties and +adobes climbing over the hills and you have our miner's metropolis," I +sketched for him. + +"I see it," he said, shutting his eyes. "Now a wave of the magic wand +and the scene is changed." He opened them again. + +"The magic wand is a steam-paddy, working day and night leveling off the +sand-hills and shoveling them into the bay. The wharves are converted +into streets and many good ships, whose crews having deserted for the +mines, being pulled up and used as storage ships, are caught by the +rising tide of sand and converted into foundations for buildings. Such +was the 'Niantic' at Clay and Sansome." + +"Oh yes, the 'Niantic!" + +"The third building on the site still retains the name." + +"What was the case of assault that gave the belligerent name to Battery +Street?" + +"It was a precaution against assault," I corrected. "Captain Montgomery +erected a fortification of five confiscated Spanish guns on the side of +this hill overlooking the harbor after he had taken possession of the +Mexican town. It was known as Fort Montgomery, or the Battery. It was on +the bluff just where Battery Street joins the Embarcadero down there, +for the hill came out to that point." + +"Did the earthquake shake it down?" His question was tinged with +triumph. + +I crushed him with a look. "The ships that came loaded with freight and +passengers took it away with them as ballast," I explained, "and of +recent years some contractors blasted it off and paved streets with it +until it was rescued from further demolition by some appreciative +landmark lovers of a women's club." + +"What a fortunate interference! But the despoilers got a good slice of +it, didn't they? There wouldn't have been much of it left in a few +years." + +"No more than there is of Rincon Hill, over there at the southern corner +of Yerba Buena Cove." I was considerably mollified by his appreciation. +"It was the best residence quarter of the fifties, but the 'unkindest +cut' of Second Street, which brought no good to anyone, not even its +commercial promoters, left it a place of the 'butt ends of streets,' as +Stevenson says, and inaccessible, square-edged, perpendicular lots whose +only value lies buried underneath them. I fear its scars can never be +remedied." + +"You have several hills left," he consoled me as his eye traveled along +the broken western skyline. "What is their role in this historic drama?" + +"The ridge running down the peninsula is the San Miguel Range, crowned +by Twin Peaks, with the Mission at its foot. Nob Hill, next, acquired +its name in the sixties, when the bonanza and railroad kings erected +their residences there. Before the fire"--I felt my color rising, but +there was no shade of change in my companion's expression--"the +mansions of the 'Big Four' of the Central Pacific--Huntington, Hopkins, +Stanford and Crocker--and the Comstock millionaires--Flood, Fair and +others--filled with magnificent works of craftsmen and artists, had +more than local fame." + +"From this distance, with three of the largest buildings in the city, +the hill hardly seems to have fallen from its high estate," he observed. + +"You are quite right. It still lives up to its name, for the Fairmont +Hotel and the Stanford Apartments, christened for two of its former +magnates, and the brown-stone Flood mansion, remodeled for the +Pacific-Union Club, are no whit less nobby than their predecessors." + +"The next hill?" He turned his gaze to the houses perched on the top and +clinging part way down its steep sides. + +"A little graveyard where the Russian gold-seekers were laid to rest +gave its name. It is now the home of the artists and the artistic." + +"A city built on the water and the hills, and rebuilt on the ashes of +seven fires," he commented. "It is almost incomprehensible." After a +moment's pause: "How much of the city was burned by the last fire?" + +I glanced sharply at him. There was no shade of irony in his tone and +his face showed only sincerity. + +"All that you can see, from the fringe of wharves at the waterfront to +the top of the hills and down into the valley beyond, except these +houses here at our feet, saved by the Italians with wine-soaked +blankets, and a few on the heights of Russian Hill." + +"It was colossal!" he exclaimed. "Think of it! a whole city wiped out." +I lowered my eyes to the goat nibbling beside us. "The courage and +energy that rebuilt it is herculean." His enthusiasm was cumulative. +"And rebuilt it in practically three years! No wonder you date all +things from the fire." + +Billy flickered his tail and solemnly winked at me. + +"It is getting late," I said, "but the sun is just setting. Shall we +watch it before we go?" + +Without speaking, he followed me back to our first point of view. The +crimson ball was sinking into the sea, with its Midas touch turning the +water and sky to molten gold. The last rays gilded the cliffs on either +side of the entrance to the bay, and burnished the heads of the nodding +poppies at our feet. From the Presidio came the muffled boom of the +sunset gun. + +"Could Frémont have chosen a better name?" exclaimed the man at my side. +"The Golden Gate it is, indeed!" + +"It certainly is well named," I agreed, "for everyone can interpret its +meaning according to his mood and character. Some see only what Frémont +saw, an open door to commerce; to others it is the entrance to hoards of +gold, stowed away in hills and streams; to the poet it speaks of the +golden poppies that streak the hillsides, but I like to think of it as +did the Indians, who called it 'Yulupa,' the Sunset Strait." + +Silently we watched the lights of the city come out, one by one, until +it seemed as if the heavens lay beneath us. + +"I hoped when I left Boston that you would return with me," he said +gently, "but I can't ask you to leave this. I didn't understand then, +but now--" + +The lights became blurred and the night seemed suddenly to have grown +cold. + +"Of course, you couldn't be happy--" + +The voice did not sound like his. I had been in a dream for two days. I +had thought he cared just as I did, but he couldn't, or he would realize +that nothing counted but--I bit my lips to keep from crying out. + +"Boston is too cold for a girl with the warmth of California in her +heart." + +Cold! Didn't he know that life with him would make an iceberg paradise? +Didn't he realize--? But, of course, he didn't care as I did! This was +only a subterfuge. I straightened proudly. + +"I can't ask you to go back with me," he was saying, "but I can stay +here with you." His hand crept over mine. "Our business needs a manager +on this coast. Will you help me make a home in San Francisco, dear?" + +Below, the lights of the city danced with happiness and a glad new song +rang in my heart. + + + +Here ends 'The Lure of San Francisco. A Romance Amid Old Landmarks." +Written by Elizabeth Gray Potter and Mabel Thayer Gray and Illustrated +from Sketches in Charcoal by Audley B. Wells. Done into a book by Paul +Elder and Company at their Tomoye Press in San Francisco under the +supervision and care of H. A. Funke, in July, Nineteen Hundred and +Fifteen. + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Lure of San Francisco +by Elizabeth Gray Potter and Mabel Thayer Gray + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 11507 *** diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..c3143ac --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #11507 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/11507) diff --git a/old/11507-8.txt b/old/11507-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..990ab49 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/11507-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,2848 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Lure of San Francisco +by Elizabeth Gray Potter and Mabel Thayer Gray + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Lure of San Francisco + A Romance Amid Old Landmarks + +Author: Elizabeth Gray Potter and Mabel Thayer Gray + +Release Date: March 8, 2004 [EBook #11507] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE LURE OF SAN FRANCISCO *** + + + + +Produced by David A. Schwan <davidsch@earthlink.net> + + + + + +The Lure of San Francisco + +A Romance Amid Old Landmarks + + + +By +Elizabeth Gray Potter +and +Mabel Thayer Gray + +Illustrated By +Audley B. Wells + + + +Paul Elder & Company +Publishers San Francisco + + + +Copyright, 1915, By +Paul Elder & Co. +San Francisco + + + +To Our Mother + + + +Preface + +The average visitor considers California's claim to historic recognition +as dating from the discovery of gold. Her children, both by birth and +adoption, have a hazy pride in her Spanish origin but are too busy with +today's interests to take much thought of it. They know that somewhere +over in the Mission is the old adobe church. They rejoice that it +escaped the fire but have no time to visit it. They will proudly tell +their eastern friends of its existence and that the Presidio received +its name from the Spaniards but further narration of the heritage is +lost in exclamations over the beauty of the drives and the views, while +the historic significance of Portsmouth Square is smothered in the +delight over Chinese embroideries, bronzes and cloisonné. + +May this little book aid in the general awaking of the dormant love of +every Californian for his possessions and be a suggestion to the casual +visitor that we are entitled to the dignity of age. + + + +Contents + +Preface +The Mission and its Romance + A view from Twin Peaks--The city with its historic crosses. A visit + to the old church--Its past, and the romance of Lüis Argüello. +The Presidio, Past and Present + The Spanish Fortifications and the love story of Concepcion and + Rezánov. +The Plaza and its Echoes + A Chinese restaurant. Yerba Buena and the reminiscences of a + forty-niner. +Telegraph Hill of Unique Fame + The Latin quarter. The signal station of '49 and a view of the city + as it was. The Golden Gate. + + + +List of Illustrations + +The Mission + "The modern structures crowd upon the low adobe building." +Prayer Book Cross + "A granite cross just visible above the trees in Golden Gate Park." +At Lotta's Fountain + "We watched the people purchasing flowers on the corner." +The Officer's Club House at the Presidio + "Of a different generation from its neighbors." +A Street in Chinatown + "We must take a look at the spot where the first house stood." +Portsmouth Square + "The entire history of San Francisco was made around this Plaza." +A Fountain in the Latin Quarter + "Stooping to drink from his hand on the edge of a little pool." +A Sunset Thro' the Golden Gate + "The last rays gilded the cliffs on either side." + + + +The Mission + +A view from Twin Peaks--The city with its historic crosses. A visit to +the old church--Its past, and the romance of Lüis Argüello. + + + +The Mission and Its Romance + +"Tickets to the city, Sir?" The conductor's voice sounded above the +rumble of the train. As my companion's hand went to his pocket he +glanced at me with a quizzical smile. + +"I should think you Oaklanders would resent that. Hasn't your town put +on long skirts since the fire?" There was an unpleasant emphasis on the +last phrase, but I passed it over unnoticed. + +"Of course we have grown up," I assured him. "We're a big flourishing +city, but we are not the city. San Francisco always has been, and always +will be the city to all northern California; it was so called in the +days of forty-nine and we still cling affectionately to the term." + +"I believe you Californians have but two dates on your calendar," he +exclaimed, "for everything I mention seems to have happened either +'before the fire' or 'in the good old days of forty-nine!' 'Good old +days of forty-nine,'" he repeated, amused. "In Boston we date back to +the Revolution, and 'in Colonial times' is a common expression. We have +buildings a hundred years old, but if you have a structure that has +lasted a decade, it is a paragon and pointed out as built 'before the +fire.' Do you remember the pilgrimage we made to the historic shrines of +Boston, just a year ago?" + +"Shall I ever forget it!" I exclaimed. + +He smiled appreciatively. "Faneuil Hall and the old State House are +interesting." + +"Oh, I wasn't thinking about the buildings! I don't even recall how they +look. But I do remember the weather. I was so cold I couldn't even +speak." + +"Impossible!" he cried, "you not able to talk!" + +"But it's true! My cheeks were frozen stiff. I wore a thick dress, a +sweater, a heavy coat and my furs, and, still I was cold while all the +time I was thinking that the fruit trees and wild flowers were in +blossom in California. If it hadn't been for the symphony concerts and +the opera, I never could have endured an Eastern winter." + +"A fine compliment to me when I spent days taking you to points of +historic interest." + +I sent him an appreciative glance. "It was good of you," I acknowledged, +"and do you remember that I promised to take you on a similar pilgrimage +when you came to San Francisco?" + +He laughed. "And I was foolish enough to believe you, since I had never +been to the Pacific Coast." + +The train came to a stop in the Ferry Building and we followed the other +passengers onto the boat. "San Francisco is modern to the core," he +continued. "Boston dates back generations, but you have hardly acquired +your three score years and ten." + +"If you don't like fine progressive cities, why did you come to +California?" His fault-finding with San Francisco hurt me as if it had +been a personal criticism. + +"You know why I came," he said gently, with his eyes on my face. + +I felt the blood creeping to my cheeks and turned quickly to look for an +out-of-doors seat. In the crowd we were jostled by a little slant-eyed +man of the Orient, resplendent in baggy blue silk trousers tied neatly +at the ankles and a loose coat lined with lavender, whose flowing +sleeves half concealed his slender brown hands. + +"There's a man who has centuries at his back." My companion's eyes +traveled from the soft padded shoes to the little red button on the top +of the black skull cap. "Even his costume is the same as his +forefathers'." + +"If you are interested in the Chinese, I'll show you Oriental San +Francisco. It lies in the heart of the city and its very atmosphere is +saturated with Eastern customs. It is much more sanitary but not as +picturesque as it was before the fire." I flushed as I saw his +amusement, and quickly called his attention to the receding shores where +the encircling green hills had thrown out long banners of yellow mustard +and blue lupins. To the right was Mt. Tamalpais, a sturdy sentinel +looking out to the ocean, its summit pressed against the sky's blue +canopy and its base lost in a network of purple forests. In front of the +Golden Gate was Alcatraz Island, like a huge dismantled warship, +guarding the entrance to the bay, and before us, San Francisco rested +upon undulating hills, its tall buildings piercing the sky at irregular +intervals. We made our way to the forward deck in order to have the full +sweep of the waterfront. + +"You should see it at night!" I said, "it is a marvelous tiara. The red +and green lights on these wharves close to the water's edge are the +rubies and emeralds, while above, sweeping the hills, the lights of the +residences sparkle like rows and rows of diamonds." + +A crowd of passengers surged around us as the boat poked its nose into +the slip. "There was nothing left of this part of the city but a fringe +of wharves, after the fire." I bit the last word in two, for it was +evident the expression was getting on his nerves. I was thankful that +the clanging chains of the descending gang plank and the tramp of many +feet made further conversation impossible. + +"Hurry," he urged, "there's the Exposition car." We were in front of the +Ferry Building and the crowd was jostling us in every direction. + +"You surely are not going to the Exposition!" I exclaimed in mock +surprise. + +"Of course I am. Where else should we go?" + +"But, my dear Antiquary, those buildings are only a few months old!" + +He laughed good naturedly. "It ought to suit you Westerners, anyway," he +retaliated. Then taking my arm, "Let us hurry! Look, the car is +starting!" + +"I am going to take the one behind," I announced. "There must be +something old in San Francisco and I am going to find it." + +"You'll have a long hunt," rejoined the skeptic, and with his eyes still +on the tail of the disappearing Exposition car, he reluctantly followed +me. + +"Lots of strangers in San Francisco for the Fair," he remarked, as from +the car window he watched the big turban of a Hindoo bobbing among the +crowd on the sidewalk; then his eyes wandered to a Japanese arrayed in a +new suit of American clothes and finally rested on a bright yellow lei +wound about the hat of a swarthy Hawaiian. I smiled as I nodded to the +Japanese who had worked in my kitchen for three years, and recognized in +the dusky Hawaiian one of the regular singers in a popular café. + +The train had now left commercial San Francisco behind and was climbing +the hills to where the nature loving citizens had perched their houses +in order to obtain a better view of the bay. We abandoned the car and +following an upward path, finally stood on the lower shoulder of Twin +Peaks. Tired from our exertions we sank upon the soft grass. The hills +had put on their festival attire, catching up their emerald gowns with +bunches of golden poppies and veiling their shoulders in filmy scarfs of +blue lupins. The air was filled with Spring and the delicate blush of an +apple-tree told of the approach of Summer. Below, the city, noisy and +bustling a few moments ago, now lay hushed to quiet by the distance and +beyond, the sun-flecked waters of the bay stretched to a girdle of +verdant hills, up whose sides the houses of the towns were scrambling. +To the left, resting on the top of Mt. Tamalpais, could be seen the +"sleeping maiden" who for centuries had awaited the awakening kiss of +her Indian lover. + +"What a glorious play-ground for San Francisco." His voice rang with +enthusiasm. "Look at the ferryboats plowing up the bay in every +direction. A man could escape from the factory grime on the water front +and in an hour be asleep under a tree on a grassy hillside." + +"It is a splendid country to tramp through, but if a man wants to sleep, +why not spend less time and money by selecting a nearer place? There are +plenty of trees and grassy mounds in the Presidio and Golden Gate Park." + +His eyes followed mine to the green patch edging the entrance to the bay +and then ran along the tree-lined avenue to the parked section extending +almost from the center of the city to the Pacific Ocean. Suddenly he +stood up and took his field glasses from his pocket. + +"There's a granite cross just visible above the trees in Golden Gate +Park." He focused his glasses for a better view. "It's quite elaborate +in design and seems to be raised on a hill." + +He offered me the glasses but I did not need them. "It's the Prayer-Book +Cross and commemorates the first Church of England service held on this +Coast by Sir Francis Drake in 1579. I think it is a shame that we +haven't also a monument for Cabrillo, the real discoverer, who was here +nearly forty years earlier. If Sir Francis hadn't stolen a Spanish +ship's chart, he would never have found the Gulf of the Farallones. +Cabrillo sailed along the coast more than half a century before +Massachusetts Bay was discovered," I added maliciously. + +"I had forgotten the old duffer," he smiled back at me. Raising his +glasses again, he scanned the sombre roofs to the right. "There's +another monument," he volunteered, "rising out of the heart of the +city." + +I followed the direction indicated to where the outstretched arms of a +white wooden cross were silhouetted against the sky. + +"If I were in Europe," he continued, "I should call it a shrine, for the +sides of the hill on which it stands are seamed with paths running from +the net-work of houses to the foot of the cross." + +"It is a shrine at which all San Francisco worships. Wrapped in mystery +it stands, for when it was placed there no one knows. It comes to us out +of the past--a token left by the Spanish padres. Three times it has +fallen into decay, but always loving hands have reached forward to +restore it, and as long as San Francisco shall last, a cross will rise +from the summit of Lone Mountain." + +"The Spanish padres!" The ring in his voice bespoke his interest. "Are +there any other relics left?" + +I pointed to the level section below. "Do you see that low red roof +almost hidden by its towering neighbors? That is the old Mission San +Francisco de Asis, colloquially called Dolores, from the little rivulet +on whose bank it was built." + +Through his field glasses he scrutinized the expanse of substantial +houses and paved streets. "I can't find the rivulet," he announced. + +"Of course you can't, you stupid man!" I laughed. "If you'll use your +imagination instead of your glasses you will see it easily. The stream +arose, we are told, between the summits of Twin Peaks, and tumbling down +the hill-side, made its way east, emptying into the Laguna." + +"I don't see a laguna!" Again the skeptic surveyed the field of roofs. + +"Put down your glasses and close your eyes," I commanded. "When you open +them the houses from here to the bay will have disappeared and the +ground will be covered with a carpet of velvety green, dappled here and +there by groves of oak trees and relieved by patches of bright poppies." + +"And fields of yellow mustard," he supplemented. + +"No, your imagination is too vivid. The padres brought the mustard seed +later. A little south of the present mission," I continued, "you will +see a group of willows bending to drink the crystal waters of the Arroyo +de los Dolores, so named because Anza and his followers discovered it on +the day of our Mother of Sorrows, and to the east is the shining +laguna." + +"It's clear as a San Francisco fog," he laughed. "I'd like to take a +look at the old building! Is there a car line?" + +"Let's follow in the footsteps of the padres," I begged. "They used +often to climb this hill and it isn't very far." + +He looked dubiously down the rugged side and mentally measured the +distance from the base to the low tiled roof. + +"All right," he said at last, "if you'll let me take a ten minutes nap +before we start." He stretched himself at full length on the soft grass +and pulled his hat low over his eyes. + +I was glad to be quiet for a time and let my imagination have full +sweep. I seemed to see, toiling up the peninsula, a little band of +foot-sore travelers, the leathern-clad soldiers on the alert for hostile +Indians, the brown-robed friars encouraging the women and children, and +the sturdy colonists bringing up the rear with their flocks and herds. +At last the little company come to a sparkling rivulet and stoop to +drink eagerly of the cool water. The commander examines his chart and +nods to the tonsured priest who falls on his knees and raises his voice +in thanksgiving. Stretching out his arms in blessing to his flock, he +exclaims: "Rest now, my children. Our journey is at an end. Here on the +Arroyo de Nuestra Señora de los Dolores, we will establish the mission +to our Father San Francisco de Asis." + +"If we want to see the old building before lunch time, we shall have to +be moving," said a sleepy voice at my elbow. + +"Come on, then, I'll be your pathfinder," and we raced down the +hill-side until the paved streets reminded us that city manners were +expected. + +We followed the former course of the Arroyo de los Dolores down +Eighteenth to Church street, then turned north. Two, blocks further on I +laid a detaining hand on my companion's arm. + +"Hold, skeptic," I whispered, "thou art on holy ground." + +He looked up at the two-story dwelling house before us, let his eyes +wander down the row of modest residences and linger on the pavements +where a tattered newsboy was shying stones at a stray cat; then his +glance came back to my face with a smile. "My belief in your veracity is +unlimited. I uncover." He stood for an instant with bared head. "Just +when did this sanctification take place, was it before the fire or--" + +"It was on October 9th, 1776," I tried to speak impressively, "the year +the Colonies made their Declaration of Independence. The procession +began over there at the Presidio," I pointed to the north. "A +brown-robed friar carrying an image of St. Francis led the little +company of men, women and children over the shifting sand-dunes to this +very spot where a rude church had been erected. Its sides were of mud +plastered over a palisade wall of willow poles and its ceiling a leaky +roof of tule rushes but it was the beginning of a great undertaking and +Father Paloú elevated the cross and blessed the site and all knelt to +render thanks to the Lord for His goodness." + +"But I thought you said the church still existed." His eyes again sought +the row of dwelling houses. + +"This was only for temporary use and later was pulled down. Six years +after the fathers arrived, a larger and more substantial church was +built one block farther east. But before you see that you must get into +the spirit of the past by imagining a square of four blocks lying +between Fifteenth and Seventeenth streets and Church and Guerrero, swept +clean of these modern structures and filled with mission buildings. At +the time when you New Englanders were pushing the Indians farther and +farther into the wilderness, killing and capturing them, we Californians +were drawing them to our missions with gifts and friendship. While you +were leaving them in ignorance we were teaching them--" + +He stooped to get a full look at my eyes. "I never knew a Spaniard to +have eyes the color of violets. Look up your family tree, my dear +enthusiast, and I think you will find that you are we." + +"I'm not," I declared indignantly. "I'm a Californian. I was born here +and even if I haven't Spanish blood in my veins, I have the spirit of +the old padres." + +"But the spirit has not left a lasting impression. Indeed civilization +whether dealt out with friendly hands or thrust upon the natives at the +point of the bayonet seems to have been equally poisonous on both sides +of the continent." + +"True, philosopher, but would you call the work of these padres +impressionless, when it has permeated all California? The open-hearted +hospitality of the Spaniards is a canonical law throughout the West, and +their exuberant spirit of festivity still remains, impelling us to +celebrate every possible event, present and commemorative." + +We had reached Dolores Street, a broad parked avenue where automobiles +rushed by one another, shrieking a warning to the pedestrian. Suddenly I +found myself alone. My companion had darted across the crowded street to +a little oasis of grass where a mission bell hung suspended on an iron +standard. + +"It marks 'El Camino Real,'" he reported as he rejoined me. + +"The King's Highway," I translated. "It must have been wonderful at this +season of the year, for as the padres traveled northward, they scattered +seeds of yellow mustard and in the spring a golden chain connected the +missions from San Francisco to San Diego. Over there nearer the bay," I +nodded toward the east where a heavy cloud of black smoke proclaimed the +manufacturing section of the city, "lay the Potrero--the pasture-land +of the padres--and the name still clings to the district. Beyond was +Mission Cove, now filled in and covered with store-houses, but formerly +a convenient landing place for the goods of Yankee skippers who, +contrary to Spanish law, surreptitiously traded with the padres." + +We turned to the massive façade of the old church, where hung the three +bells, of which Bret Harte wrote. + + "Bells of the past, whose long forgotten music + Still fills the wide expanse; + Tingeing the sober twilight of the present, + With the color of romance." + +As we entered the low arched doorway, we seemed to step from the hurry +of the twentieth century into the peace of a by-gone era. Outside, the +modern structures crowd upon the low adobe building, staring down upon +it with unsympathetic eyes and begrudging it the very land it stands on, +while inside, hand-hewn rafters, massive grey walls, and a red tiled +floor slightly depressed in places by years of service, point mutely to +the past, to the days when padres and neophytes knelt at the sound of +the Angelus. Within still stand the elaborate altars brought a century +ago from Mexico, before which Junipero Serra held mass during his last +visit to San Francisco. On the massive archway spanning the building, +can be seen the dull red scroll pattern, a relic of Indian work. + +"Sing something," my companion suggested. "It needs music to make the +spell complete." + +"It does," I assented, "but you must stay where you are," and climbing +to a balcony at the end of the building, I concealed myself in the +shadow. + +He glanced up at the first notes, then sat with bowed head. I filled the +old church with an Ave Maria, then another. As I sang, the candles +seemed to have been lighted on the gilded altars, and the brown friars +and dusky Indians took form in the dim enclosure. + +"More," he urged, but I would not, for I feared that the spell might be +broken. So he came up to see why I lingered, and found me mounted on a +ladder peering up at the old mission bells and the hand-hewn rafters +tied with ropes of plaited rawhide. + +My song must have attracted a passer-by, for a voice greeted us as we +descended. + +"Did you see the bells?" he asked eagerly. "They're a good deal like +some of us old folks, out of commission because of age and disuse, but +nevertheless they have their value. One has lost its tongue, another is +cracked and the third sags against the side wall, so they're useless as +church bells, but still they seem to speak of the days of the padres and +the Indians." + +"Were there many Indians here?" questioned the Bostonian. + +"Often more than a thousand. I was born in the shadow of this building, +in the year when the Mission was secularized, but my father knew it in +its glory and used to tell me many stories about the good old padres." + +Seeing the interest in our faces, the dark eyes brightened and he patted +the thick adobe wall affectionately. "This church was only a small part +of the Mission in those days. The buildings formed an inner quadrangle +and two sides of an outer one, all a beehive of industry. There were the +work rooms of the Indians, where blankets and cloth were woven; great +vats for trying out tallow and curing hides, and also huge storehouses +for grain and other foodstuffs, all built and cared for by the Indians." + +"Quite a change from their lazy roving life," suggested the Easterner. + +"Still the padres were not hard taskmasters," insisted the stranger. +"The work lasted only from four to six hours a day and the evenings were +devoted to games and dancing. All were required to attend religious +services, however, and at the sound of the Angelus, they gathered within +these walls. There was no sleeping through long prayers in those days," +he added with an amused smile, "for a swarthy disciple paced the aisles +and with a long pointed stick aroused the nodding ones, or quieted the +too hilarious spirits of the small boys." + +"A good example for some of our modern churches," remarked my companion, +as we followed our guide to the altar at the end of the chapel. The +light streaming through the mullioned window fell full upon the carved +figure of a tonsured monk clad in a loose robe girdled with a cord. "It +is our father, St. Francis," explained the old man. "It was in +accordance with his direct wish that this Mission was founded." + +"Yes?" questioned the skeptic. + +"When Father Junípero Serra received orders from Galvez for the +establishment of the missions in Alta California, and found that there +was none for St. Francis, he ex-claimed: 'And is the founder of our +order, St. Francis, to have no mission?' Thereupon the Visitador +replied: 'If St. Francis desires a mission, let him show us his port,' +and the Saint did!" the old face with its fringe of soft white hair was +transformed with religious enthusiasm. "He blinded the eyes of Portolá +and his men so that they did not recognize Monterey and led them on to +his own undiscovered bay. And in spite of the fact that the Mission has +been stripped of its lands, we know that it is still under the special +protection of St. Francis, for it was not ten years ago that the second +miracle was performed." + +"The second miracle!" we wonderingly repeated. + +"Yes, it was at the time of the fire of 1906. The heart of San Francisco +was a raging furnace. The fireproof buildings melted under the +tremendous heat and collapsed as if they had been constructed of lead; +the devouring flames swept over the Potrero; they fell upon the brick +building next door and crept close to the walls of this old adobe, when +suddenly, as if in the presence of a sacred relic, the fire crouched and +died at its very doors." + +We passed the altar and the old man crossed himself, while in our hearts +we, too, gave thanks for the preservation of this monument of the past. + +"You must not go until you have seen the cemetery," said our guide as we +moved toward the entrance, and throwing open a door to the right he +admitted us to the neglected graveyard. Here and there a rude cross +marked the resting place of an early Indian convert and an almost +obliterated inscription on a broken headstone revealed the name of a +Spanish grandee. Shattered columns, loosened by the hand of time and +overthrown in recent years, lay upon the ground, while great willow and +pepper trees spread out protecting arms, as if to shield the silent +company from the inroads of modern enterprise. We picked our way along +vine-latticed paths, past graves over which myrtle and roses wandered in +untrimmed beauty, to where a white shaft marked the resting place of Don +Luis Argüello, comandante of the San Francisco Presidio for twenty-three +years and the first Mexican governor of California. + +"How splendidly strong he looms out of the past," I said. "His keen +insight into the needs of this western outpost and his determined +efforts for the best interests of California will forever place him in +the front rank of its rulers. I wonder if his young wife, Rafaela, is +buried here also?" I drew aside the tangled vines from the near-by +headstones. "She was always a little dearer to me than his second wife, +the proud Dona Maria Ortega, perhaps because Rafaela belonged +pre-eminently to San Francisco. Her father, Ensign Sal, was acting +comandante of the Presidio when Vancouver visited the Coast, and Rafaela +and Luis Argüello grew up together in the little adobe settlement." + +"Go on," said the skeptic, leaning comfortably against a tree trunk. +"This old Mexican governor seems to have had an interesting romance." + +"He wasn't old," I protested, "only forty-six when he died. He was a +splendid type of a young Spanish grandee, tall and lithe of form, with +the dark skin and hair of his race. He combined the freedom born of an +out-of-door life with the courtly manners inherited from generations of +Spanish ancestry. To Rafaela Sal, watching the soldiers file out of the +mud-walled Presidio, it seemed that none sat his horse so straight nor +so bravely as did Don Luis Argüello. And at night to the young soldier +dozing before the campfire in the forest, the billowy smoke seemed to +shape itself into the soft folds of a lace mantilla from which looked +out the smiling face of a lovely grey-eyed girl, framed in an exquisite +mist of copper-colored hair. + +"There was no opposition on the part of the parents to the union of +these young people. The elder Argüello loved the sweet Rafaela as if she +were his own daughter, and Ensign Sal was proud to claim the splendid +young soldier as a son-in-law. So the betrothal was solemnized, but +since Don Luis was a Spanish officer, the marriage must await the +consent of the king, and forthwith papers were dispatched to the court +of Madrid. California was an isolated province in those days and the +packet boat, touching on the shore but twice a year, frequently brought +papers from Spain dated nine months previous, so the older people +affirmed that permission could not be received for two years, while Luis +and Rafaela declared that if the king answered at once--and surely he +would recognize the importance of haste--word might be received in +eighteen months. + +"After a year and a half had passed the young people could talk of +little besides the expected arrival of the boat with an order from the +king. Frequently Luis would climb the hills back of the Presidio where +the wide expanse of the ocean could be seen. At last a sail was +discovered on the horizon and the little settlement was thrown into a +turmoil of excitement. Luis was first at the beach and impatiently +watched the ship make its way between the high bluffs that guarded the +entrance to the bay, and nose along the shore until it came to anchor in +the little cove in front of the Presidio. Had the king's permission +come? he eagerly asked his father, who was running through the papers +handed him by the captain. But the elder man shook his head, and Luis +turned with lagging steps to tell Rafaela that they must wait another +six months. It seemed a long time to the impatient lovers and yet there +was much to make the days pass quickly at the Presidio. The door of the +commodious sala at the home of the comandante always stood wide open, +and almost nightly the feet of the young people which had danced since +their babyhood tripped over the floor of the old adobe building. Picnics +were planned to the woods near the Mission and frequently longer +excursions were undertaken; for El Camino Real was not only, the king's +highway to church and military outposts, but also the royal road to +pleasure, and when a wedding or a fiesta was at the end of a journey, no +distance was counted too great. Luis watched his betrothed blossom to +fuller beauty, fearful lest someone else might steal her away before +word from the king should arrive. + +"A year passed, then another. Packet boats came and went every six +months, bringing orders to the comandante in regard to the +administration of the military forces, concerning the treatment of +foreign vessels, and of numerous other matters, but still the king +remained silent on the one subject which, to the minds of the two young +people, overshadowed all else. Luis rashly threatened to run away with +his betrothed, while Rafaela, frightened, reminded him that there was +not a priest in California or Mexico who would marry them without the +king's order. And so each time the packet boat entered the harbor their +hearts beat with renewed hope and then, disappointed, they watched it +disappear through the Gulf of the Farallones, knowing that months would +pass before another would arrive. + +"Thus six years had gone by since permission had been asked of the king; +six interminable years, they seemed to the lovers. Again the packet boat +was sighted on the distant horizon. Luis saw the full white sails sweep +past the fort guarding the entrance; he heard the salute of the guns and +watched the anchor lowered into the water before he made his way slowly +down to the shore. It would be the same answer he had received so many +times, he was, sure, and he dreaded to put the question again. Ten +minutes later he was racing over the sand-dunes to the Presidio, his +face radiant and his hand tightly clasping an official document. It had +come at last--the order from the king! Where was Rafaela? He hurried to +her house and, folding her close in his arms, be whispered that their +long waiting was at an end; that she was his as long as life should +last. + +"But, oh, such a little span of happiness was theirs! Only two brief +years, and then the cold hand of death was laid upon the sweet Rafaela." + +For a moment my companion did not move. A bird sang in the tree above us +and the wind sent a shower of pink petals over the green mound. Then, +stooping, he picked a white Castilian rose from a tangle of shrubbery +and laid it at the base of the granite shaft. "In memory of the lovely +Rafaela," he said softly; I unpinned a bunch of fragrant violets from my +jacket and placed, them beside his offering, then we silently followed +the shaded path to the white picket gate and were once more on the noisy +thoroughfare. + +"A fitting resting place for the first Mexican governor of California," +he said, glancing back at the heavy façade of the church, "so simple and +dignified. Yet if Luis Argüello had lived in New England, we should have +considered his house of equal importance with his grave and have placed +a bronze tablet on the front, but you Westerners have, so little regard +for old--" + +"If you would like to see the home of Luis Argüello, I will show it to +you. It is at the Presidio." + +"A hopeless mass of neglected ruins, I suppose. But still I should like +to see the old walls, if you can find them." + +"Shall we take the Camino Real on foot, just as the old padres used to?" + +"Not if I have my way. I'll acknowledge that the Spanish friars have +left you Californians one legacy that no Easterner can vie with, that is +your love of tramping over these hills. I've seen streets in San +Francisco so steep that teams seldom attempt them, as is evident from +the grass between the cobblestones, and yet they are lined with +dwellings." + +"Houses that are never vacant," I assured him. "We like to get off the +level, and value our residence real estate by the view it affords." + +Noticing that the sun was now high, my companion drew out his watch. +"Luncheon time," he announced. "Shall it be the Palace or St. Francis +hotel?" + +"Let's keep in the spirit of the times and go to a Spanish restaurant," +I suggested, and soon we were on a car headed for the Latin quarter. + +"May I replace the violets you left at the Mission?" he asked, as +stepping from the car at Lotta's fountain, we lingered before the gay +flower stands edging the sidewalk. + +Before I had a chance to reply a fragrant bunch was thrust into his +hands by an urchin who announced: "Two for two-bits." + +"Two-bits is twenty-five cents," I interpreted, seeing the Easterner's +mystified look. + +"I'll take three bunches." His eyes rested admiringly on the big purple +heads as he held out a dollar bill. + +"Ain't you got any real money?" asked the boy, not offering to touch the +currency. + +Again the man's hand went to his pocket and drew out some small change, +from which he selected a quarter, a dime and three one-cent pieces. The +urchin turned the coppers over in his palm, then, diving below the heap +of violets, he pulled out several California poppies. "We always give +these to Easterners," he announced as he tucked them in among the +violets. + +"I wonder how that boy knew I was an Easterner?" the Bostonian reflected +as we turned away. Then gently touching the golden petals, he asked: +"Where did you get the odd name 'eschscholtzia' for this lovely flower?" + +"It was given by the French-born poet-naturalist, Chamisso, in honor of +the German botanist, Dr. Eschscholz, who came together to San Francisco +on a Russian ship in 1816. However, I like better the Spanish names, +dormidera--the sleepy flower--or copa de oro--cup of gold," I added +as I pinned the flowers to my coat. The man's glance wandered around +Newspaper Corners, when suddenly his look of surprise told me that he +had discovered on this crowded section of commercial San Francisco a +duplicate of the old bell hung in front of the Mission San Francisco de +Asís. + +"We are following El Camino Real from the Mission to the Presidio," I +reminded him. + +We turned toward the shopping district, but the lure of the place made +our feet lag. We watched the people purchasing flowers at the corner, +and the little newsboys drinking from Lotta's fountain. + +"A tablet," he exclaimed delightedly, examining the bronze plate +fastened to the fountain. "I didn't know you Westerners ever indulged in +such things. 'Presented to San Francisco by Lotta, 1875,'" he read. + +"Little Lotta Crabtree," I explained, "the sweet singer who bewitched +the city at a time when gold was still more plentiful than flowers, and +her song was greeted by a shower of the glittering metal flung to her +feet by enthusiastic miners. But read the second tablet," I suggested. +"It was placed there with the permission of Lotta." + +"Tetrazzini!" his voice rang with surprise. + +"Can you picture this place surging with people as it was on Christmas +night five years ago, when Tetrazzini sang to San Francisco?" I asked. +"The crowd began to gather long before the appointed time--the wealthy +banker from his spacious home on Pacific Heights, the grimy laborer from +the Potrero and the little newsboy with the badge of his profession +slung over his shoulder. Flushed with excitement, the courted debutante +drew back to give her place to a tired factory girl and close to the +platform an old Italian, who had tramped all the way from Telegraph +Hill, patiently waited to hear the sweet voice of his country woman. +'Tetrazzini is here,' they said to one another; Tetrazzini, who had been +discovered and adored by the people of San Francisco when, as an unknown +singer, she appeared in the old Tivoli opera house. At last she came, +wrapped in a rose-colored opera coat, and was greeted with shouts of joy +from a quarter of a million throats. She was radiant; smiling and +dimpling she waved her handkerchief with the abandonment of a child. The +storm of applause increased, rolling up the street to the very summit of +Twin Peaks. Suddenly the soft liquid notes of a clear soprano fell upon +the air, and instantly the great multitude was wrapped in silence. Out +over the heads of the people the exquisite tones floated, mounting +upward to the stars. It was the 'Last Rose of Summer,' and as she sang +her opera coat slipped from her, leaving her bare shoulders and white +filmy gown silhouetted against the sombre background. She sang again and +again, while the vast throng seemed scarcely to breathe. Then she began +the familiar strains of 'Old Lang Syne,' and at a sign, two hundred and +fifty thousand people joined in the refrain." + +"There is not a city in all the world except San Francisco which could +have done such a thing," enthusiastically rejoined my companion, but the +next instant the eccentricities of the place struck him afresh. + +"Furs and apple blossoms!" he exclaimed, observing a woman opposite. +"What a ridiculous combination!" Then, turning, he scrutinized me from +the top of my flower-trimmed hat to the bottom of my full skirt until my +cheeks burned with embarrassment. "Why, you have on a thin summer silk, +while that woman is dressed for mid-winter!" + +"Of course," I assented. "She's on the shady side of the street." + +But still his face did not lighten. "We've been in the sun all morning," +I continued to explain. "People talk about San Francisco being an +expensive place to live in, but really it is the cheapest in the world. +If a woman has a handsome set of furs, she wears them and keeps in the +shadow, or if her new spring suit has just come home, she puts that on +and walks on the sunny side of the street, being comfortably and +appropriately, dressed in either." + +"Great heavens!" he cried, "what a city!" + +We passed through the shopping district and lingered for a moment at the +edge of Portsmouth Square. My eyes rested affectionately on the +clean-cut lawns and blossoming shrubs. Then I turned to the skeptic, but +before I could speak, he had dismissed it with a nod. + +"Too modern," he commented. "Looks as if it had been planted yesterday. +Now the Boston Common--" + +A rasping discordant sound burst from a near-by store and the Easterner +sent me a questioning glance. + +"A Chinese orchestra," I replied. "We are in Oriental San Francisco." + +"That park was doubtless made as a breathing place for this congested +Chinese quarter," he glanced back at the green square. "A good civic +improvement." + +"That park is a relic of old Spanish days and one of the most historic +spots in San Francisco," I said severely. + +He stopped short. "You don't mean--I didn't suppose there was anything +old in commercial San Francisco." + +"Portsmouth Square was once the Plaza of the little Spanish town of +Yerba Buena, and the public meeting place of the community when there +were not half a dozen houses in San Francisco." + +"Let's go back." He wheeled about abruptly and started in the direction +of the square, but I protested. + +"I am hungry and I want some luncheon!" "Then we'll return this +afternoon." There was determination in his voice. + +"We will hardly have time if we visit Luis Argüello's home at the +Presidio," I objected. + +"All right, we'll take it in tomorrow, then." + +Hastening on, we were soon in the midst of the huddled houses of the +Latin quarter. Tucked away between two larger buildings, we found a +quaint Spanish restaurant. As we opened our tamales, my companion again +referred to Portsmouth Square. + +"Tell me about it," he demanded. "Does it date with the Mission and +Presidio?" + +"No, it is of later birth, but still of equal interest in the history of +San Francisco. The city grew up from three points--the Mission"--I +pulled a poppy from my bouquet and placed it on the table to mark the +old adobe--"the Presidio"--I moved a salt cellar to the right of the +flower--"and the town of Yerba Buena," this I indicated by a pepper box +below the other two. "Roads connected these points like the sides of a +triangle and gradually the intervening spaces were filled with houses." + +"Go on." He leaned back in his chair, but I had already risen. "It will +be more interesting to hear the story on the spot tomorrow," I assured +him as I drew on my gloves. + + + +The Presidio + +The Spanish Fortifications and the Love Story of Concepcion and Rezánov + + + +The Presidio Past and Present + +We hailed a car marked "Exposition" and were soon climbing the hills to +the west. Between the houses, we had fleeting glances of the bay with +its freight of vessels. Here waved the tri-color of France, while next +to it the black, white and red flag of Germany was flung to the breeze, +and within a stone's throw, Johnny Bull had cast out his insignia. At a +little distance the ships of Austria and Russia rested side by side, and +between the vessels the bustling little ferry-boats were churning up the +blue water. + +"It is difficult to picture this bay as it was in early Spanish days," I +said, "destitute of boats and so full of otter that when the Russians +and Alaskan Aleuts began plundering these waters, they had only to lean +from the canoes and kill hundreds with their oars." + +"But what right had the Russian here? Why didn't the Spaniards stop +them? Otter must have brought a good price in those days." There was a +ring of indignation in his voice, that told his interest had been +aroused. + +"San Francisco was helpless. There was not a boat on the bay, except the +rude tule canoes of the Indians--'boats of straw'--Vancouver called +them, and these were no match for the swift darting bidarkas of the +Alaskan natives." + +"And Luis Argüello in command!" + +"I saw my idol falling, and hastened to assure him that the Comandante +had built a boat a short time before, but the result was so disastrous +that he never tried it again. The Presidio was in great need of repair +and the government at Mexico had paid no heed to the constant requests +for assistance, so Comandante Argüello had determined to take matters +into his own hands. The peninsula was destitute of large timber, but ten +miles across the bay were abundant forests, if he could but reach them. +He, therefore, secured the services of an English carpenter to construct +a boat, while his men traveled two hundred miles by land, down the +peninsula to San Jose, along the contra costa, across the straits of +Carquinez and touching at the present location of Petaluma and San +Rafael, finally arrived at the spot selected. In the meantime the +soldiers were taught to sail the craft, and the first ferryboat, at +length started across the bay. But a squall was encountered, the +land-loving men lost their heads, and it was only through Argüello's +presence of mind that the boat finally reached its destination. For the +return trip, the services of an Indian chief were secured, a native who +had been seen so often on the bay in his raft of rushes, that the +Spaniards called him 'El Marino,' the Sailor, and this name, corrupted +into Marin, still clings to the land where he lived. Many trips were +made in this ferry, but the comandante's subordinates were less +successful than he, for one, being swept out to sea, drifted about for a +day or two until a more favorable wind and tide brought him back to San +Francisco. The Spaniards called the land where the trees were felled +'Corte Madera,' the place of hewn-wood, and a little town on the site +still bears the name." + +"But what became of the boat? You said--" + +"Governor Sola was furious that any one should dare to build a boat +without his orders. He called it 'insubordination.' How did he know what +was the real purpose of the craft? Might it not have been built to aid +the Russians in securing otter or to help the 'Boston Nation' in their +nefarious smuggling?" + +My companion straightened with interest, "The Boston Nation?" + +"Yes, even in those days the Yankee skippers, who occasionally did a +little secret trading with the padres, told such marvelous stories of +Boston that the Spaniards thought it must be a nation instead of a +little town. In fact, the United States does not seem to have been +considered of much importance by Spain, for when the American ship +'Columbia' was expected to touch on this coast it was referred to as +'General Washington's vessel.'" + +"Go on with your boat story," a smile played about the corners of his +mouth. "What became of the craft?" + +"The Governor ordered it sent to Monterey and commanded Argüello to +appear before him. The Comandante was surprised to have his work thus +suddenly interrupted but hastened to obey orders. On the way his horse +stumbled and fell, injuring his rider's leg so seriously that when +Argüello reached Monterey, he was hardly able to stand. Without stopping +to have his injury dressed, he limped into the Governor's presence, +supporting himself on his sword. + +"'How dared you build a launch and repair your Presidio without my +permission?' exclaimed the exasperated Governor. + +"'Because I and my soldiers were living in hovels, and we were capable +of bettering our condition,' was the reply. + +"Governor Sola, not noted for his genial temper, raised his cane with +the evident intention of using it, when he noticed that the young +Comandante had drawn himself erect and was handling the hilt of his +naked sword. + +"'Why did you do that?' the Governor demanded. + +"'Because I was tired of my former position, and also because I do not +intend to be beaten without resistance,' Argüello answered. + +"For a moment the Governor was taken back, then he held out his hand. +'This is the bearing of a soldier and worthy of a man of honor,' he +said. 'Blows are only for cowards who deserve them.' + +"Argüello took the outstretched hand and from this time he and the +Governor were close friends. But the boat proved so useful at Monterey, +that it was never returned." + +The Jeweled Tower of the Exposition came into view. "So it is to be the +three months' old World's Fair, after all, instead of the home of the +first Mexican Governor of California?" + +But I did not rise. "The Presidio is just beyond," I explained. Then +seeing him glancing admiringly at the green domes: "Perhaps you would +rather--" + +"No," he answered me, "I'm an antiquary and I want to see the old adobe +house." + +Leaving the car at the Presidio entrance, we passed down the shaded +driveway and along the winding path that led to the old parade ground. +"This military reservation covers about the same ground as the old +Spanish Presidio," I explained. "At that time, however, it was a sweep +of tawny sand-dunes, for the Spaniards had neither the ability nor the +money to beautify the place. After it came into possession of the +Americans, lupins were scattered broadcast as a first means of +cultivation and for a time the undulating hills were veiled in blue. +Later, groves of pine and eucalyptus trees together with grass and +flowers were planted, until now it may be regarded as one of the parks +of San Francisco. This was the original plaza of the old Spanish +Presidio," I continued, as we emerged onto the quadrangle, "and it was +then lined with houses as it is today, only at that time they were crude +adobe structures. Surrounding these was a wall fourteen feet high, made +of huge upright and horizontal saplings plastered with mud, and as a +further means of protection, a wide ditch was dug on the outside. Here +Luis Argüello was Comandante for twenty-three years." + +Our eyes wandered over the substantial structures with their +well-trimmed gardens and rested on a low rambling building opposite, +protected from the gaze of the curious by an old palm and guarded by a +quaint Spanish cannon. The building's simple outlines, even at a +distance, bespoke it as of a different generation from its more +aggressive neighbors, even though its red-tiled roof had been replaced +by sombre brown shingles, and its crumbling walls replastered. We +crossed over the parade ground, and peering within, found that the +building had been converted into an officers' club house. + +"Did you see the bronze tablet on the front?" I demanded. + +"Yes," he admitted rather sheepishly, turning to examine the deep window +embrasure that showed the width of the walls. + +"There's an atmosphere of romance about the old place--" + +"And well there may be," I broke in, "for it was here that Rafaela Sal +came as a bride, and that Rezánov met Luis Argüello's beautiful sister, +Concepcion, and a love story began which may well take place with that +of Miles Standish and Priscilla." + +"Rezánov," he repeated, searching his memory. "I recall that there was a +romance connected with his visit to San Francisco but the details have +escaped me. Please sit down on this bench and tell me the story just as +if I had never heard it before." + +"More than a century ago there dwelt in this old adobe house a beautiful +maiden," I began. "Her father was Comandante of the Presidio, 'el +Santo,' the people termed him, because of his goodness. Concepcion, or +Concha, as she was affectionately called by her parents, was only +fifteen years old when our story begins--a tall, slender girl with +masses of fine black hair and the fair Castilian skin, inherited from +her mother. So lovely was she that many a caballero had already sung at +her grating, but she would listen to none of them. Her lover would come +from over the sea, she declared, someone who could tell her about the +wide outside world. + +"'Then you will die unmarried,' said her mother, kissing the soft cheek, +'for travelers seldom come as far as San Francisco.' + +"'A ship! a ship!' sounded a cry from the plaza. A vessel had been +sighted off Cantil Blanco, the first foreign ship seen since Vancouver's +visit fourteen years before. + +"'It is the Russian expedition which Spain has ordered us to treat +courteously,' exclaimed Don Luis, bursting into the house, his face +aglow with excitement. 'Since father is in Monterey and I am acting +Comandante, I must receive these strangers,' he continued as he threw +his serape over his shoulders, his eyes flashing with his first taste of +command. + +"'Be careful,' cautioned his mother, 'we have had no word from Europe +for nine months and the last packet boat from Mexico brought a rumor of +war with Russia.' + +"But the foreign vessel had come only with friendly intentions. The +Russian Chamberlain Rezánov, in charge of the Czar's northwestern +possessions, had found a starving colony at Sitka and had brought a +cargo of goods to the more productive southland with the hope of +exchanging it for foodstuffs. To be sure, he knew the Spanish law +strictly forbidding trade with foreign vessels, but it seemed the only +means of saving his famishing people and he trusted much to his skill in +diplomacy. + +"A few hours later, Concha, on the qui vive with excitement, saw her +brother approaching with a little company of men, among whom was a tall +well-built Russian officer, whose keen eyes seemed to take in every +detail of the little settlement. + +"Don Luis conducted his guests to the old adobe building, draped in pink +Castilian roses, and into the cool sala, which, although provided with +slippery horse-hair chairs and plain whitewashed walls ornamented with +pictures of the Virgin and saints, was a pleasing contrast to the ship's +cabin. Here he presented his guests to his mother, a woman whose face +still reflected much of the beauty of her youth in spite of her cares +which had come in the rearing of her thirteen children. Beside her stood +Concepcion. Her long drooping lashes swept her cheeks, but when she +raised her eyes in greeting Rezánov saw that they were dark and joyous. +He was a widower of many years, a man of forty-two, who had given little +thought to women during his wandering life, but now he found himself +keenly alive to the charms of this radiant girl. Simple and artless in +her manners, yet possessing the early maturity of her race, she set her +guests at ease and entertained them with stories of life on the great +ranchos, while her mother was busy with household duties. + +"It was ten days before Don José Argüello returned from Monterey and in +the meantime no business could be transacted. During these days Rezánov +saw much of Concepcion, for there was dancing every afternoon at the +home of the Comandante and frequent picnics into the neighboring woods. +It was not long before the Russian learned that Concepcion was not only +La Favorita of the Presidio, but also of all California, for although +born at San Francisco, she had spent much time in her childhood at Santa +Barbara, where her father had been Comandante. With a chain of missions +and ranchos extending from San Diego to San Francisco, there was much +interchange of hospitality, and Concha was a favorite guest at all +fiestas. So the dark eyed Spanish girl had danced her way into the heart +of many a youth as she was now doing into that of this powerful Russian. + +"Often he would stand in the shadow of the deep window casement and +watch her lithe young figure bend in the graceful borego, occasionally +catching a glance from beneath the sweeping lashes that would send his +blood surging through his veins and make him almost forget the purpose +of his voyage. Sometimes he would draw her aside to talk of his hope +that the Spaniards would furnish him bread-stuffs for his starving +colony and he marveled at her keen insight into the affairs of state, +while his heart beat the quicker for her warm sympathy. Often their talk +would wander to other things and as she occasionally flashed a smile in +his direction, showing a row of pearly teeth, his blood tingled and he +thought that the flush on her cheek was not unlike the pink Castilian +rose that was nightly tucked in the soft coils of her shadowy hair. At +times he imagined her clad in rich satin, with a rope of pearls about +her delicate throat, and as he drew the picture he saw her as a star +among the ladies of the Russian court. + +"When Don José Argüello returned, Rezánov asked him for the hand of his +daughter in marriage, but the Comandante indignantly refused. Although +liking the distinguished Russian for himself, he would not listen to +such--a proposal. Give his daughter to a foreigner and a heretic! +Never! It was not to be thought of for an instant. Concha must be sent +away. She must not see this Russian again! He would have her taken to +the home of his brother, who lived near the Mission, until the foreign +ship was out of the bay. While the father talked, the mother hurried to +the padres to beg the good priests to forbid such a union. + +"But Concha was no longer the docile girl of a month ago. She was a +woman and her heart was in the keeping of this sturdy Russian. She would +have him or none, and nothing the padres or her parents could say would +change her. Don José had never crossed his daughter before, and now as +she flung her arms about his neck and begged for her happiness he +weakened. After all, this Russian was a splendid fellow, and perhaps it +might be an advantage to Spain, rather than a detriment to have an ally +at Petrograd. In the end the pleading of Concha and the arguments of +Rezánov won. Comandante Argüello yielded and the betrothal was +solemnized, but there were many obstacles before the marriage could be +consummated. The permission of the Czar of Russia and the King of Spain +must be obtained, and this would take time, as well as involve a long +and dangerous trip. But nothing could daunt the spirits of the lovers. +Concepcion's brother, Luis, had already waited six years for permission +to marry Rafaela Sal and if Rezánov traveled with haste he could return +in two. He must go first to Petrograd to ask the consent of the Czar and +then to the Court of Madrid to promote more friendly relations between +the two countries, finally returning to claim his bride, by way of +Mexico. But before he could start on his journey, his starving Alaskan +colony must be provided for, and after considerable discussion, +arrangements were made for an interchange of commodities, and the hold +of the Russian ship, 'Juno' was packed with foodstuffs for the Sitkans, +while the ladies at the Presidio were resplendent in soft Russian +fabrics and the padres were rejoicing in new cooking utensils for their +large Indian family. + +"At length the 'Juno' weighed anchor and the white sails filled with the +afternoon breeze. As the Russians came opposite Cantil Blanco, the fort +which had scowled so menacingly upon them on their entrance forty-four +days before, now smiled with friendly faces. There was much waving of +hats and many shouts of farewell from the little group on the shore, but +Rezánov saw only the figure of a tall graceful girl with the soft folds +of a mantilla billowing about her head and shoulders and heard only the +murmur of love from the rosy lips. 'Two years,' he whispered back to +her, as the ship passed out through the Gulf of the Farallones and +became but a speck on the sunset sky. + +"The two years passed and still there was no sign of the returning +vessel. Luis Argüello had been married to the lovely Rafaela and a +little son had come to bless their household, and yet Concepcion looked +out over the ocean watching for the white sail of a foreign ship. The +sweet grey eyes of Luis' young wife were closed in death and Concha's +heart and hands went out in sympathetic love and deeds to the stricken +family, all the while trying to still in her own breast the fear that a +like fate had overtaken her loved one. The verdant hills were again +streaked with golden poppies and once more turned to tawny brown and +still no ship nor word came from over the sea. + +"It was eight or ten years before even a rumor of the fate of her lover +reached Concepcion, and not until she met the Englishman, Sir George +Simpson, twenty-five years after Rezánov sailed out of San Francisco +bay, did she learn the details of his death. It was almost winter when, +leaving Alaska, he crossed the ocean and began his perilous trip through +Siberia. Frequently drenched to the skin and undergoing terrible +privations, he traveled for thousands of miles on horseback, now lying +at some wayside inn burning with fever and again pushing on until he +dropped prostrate at the next village. A fall from his horse added to +his already serious condition, which resulted in his death in the little +village of Krasnoiark, and he lies now buried beneath the snows of +Siberia. + +"Although many sought her hand in marriage, Concepcion remained faithful +to her Russian lover. There being no convent for women in the country at +that time, she donned the grey habit of the 'Third Order of St. Francis +in the world,' devoting her life to the care of the sick and the +teaching of the poor. Later when a Dominican convent was established," I +added, rising, "she became not only its first nun, but also its Mother +Superior." + +"A romance that may well take a place with such world-famed love stories +as those of Abèlard and Hèloïse; and Alexandre and Thäis. I should like +to make a pilgrimage to her grave," he added as we left the old adobe +house. + +"You can," I replied. "It's tucked away in a corner of the Benicia +Cemetery, marked by a marble slab carved with her name and a simple +cross." + +We entered a grove of eucalyptus trees, which now and again divided, +giving marvelous views of the bay and the Marin shore. + +But my companion's mind still dwelt on the story he had heard. "So +Concepcion suffered in the uncertainty of hope and despair for ten +years," he said, "but ten months of it brought me to the limit of +endurance. Do you think if Rezánov had returned and Concepcion had +married him and gone to Petrograd she would have been happy?" + +"Of course she would." + +"Still Petrograd is a cold, dreary place compared to California." + +"But what difference would that make? A woman would give up everything +and count it no sacrifice for the man she loved." + +"And you said only yesterday--" + +"Oh, but that was different," I assured him, my cheeks burning under his +gaze. "Rezánov loved California. He thought it so wonderful that he +wanted it for a Russian province, and he would have brought Concepcion +back to visit--" + +"Boston is nearer than Petrograd and not so cold. Don't you think you +could teach me to love California, too?" + +"Perhaps," I acknowledged. Then anxious to turn the conversation, I +asked: "Would you like to see the location of the old Spanish fort?" He +nodded and we took the road leading to the present Fort Point. "I can't +show you the exact location," I confessed, "because the United States +cut down the bold promontory, Cantil Blanco, in order to place the +present fortification close to the water's edge, but if you will use +your imagination and picture a white cliff towering a hundred feet above +the water at the point where Fort Winfield Scott now stands, you will +see the entrance to the bay as it was in Spanish days. Here was located +the old fort, called Castilla San Joaquin, which guarded the harbor for +many years. Made of adobe in the shape of a horseshoe, so perishable +that the walls crumbled every time a shot was fired, still it answered +its purpose, as it was never needed for anything but friendly salutes, +and even these were at times, perforce, omitted. The Russian, Kotzebue, +states that when he entered the harbor he was impressed by the old fort +and the soldiers drawn up in military array, but wondered that no return +was made to his salute. A little later, however, the omission of the +courtesy was explained when a Spanish officer boarded the vessel and +asked to borrow sufficient powder for this purpose. Moreover, Robinson +tells us that frequently during the afternoon's siesta a foreign ship +would pass the fort, drop anchor in Yerba Buena Cove, and spend several +days in the bay before the Presidio officers would know of its presence. +But this was after the time of Luis Argüello." + +One by one the palaces of light in the Exposition grounds below us burst +into radiance. The Horticultural dome turned to a wonderful iridescent +bubble and the Tower of Jewels caught and reflected the light that +played upon it. Wide bands of color streaked the sombre sky, +transforming the clouds to shades of violet, yellow and rose. "The +rainbow colors of promise," he said gently as he drew closer. "I shall +take them as a message of hope that I shall win the love of the woman +who is dearer to me than all else in life!" + + + +The Plaza + +A Chinese Restaurant. Yerba Buena and the Reminiscences of a Forty-Niner + + + +The Plaza and its Echoes + +"Be careful," I warned, "you'll get your feet wet." + +We stood on the corner of Montgomery and Commercial Streets, having +carried out our resolution of the day previous to continue our search +for old landmarks. The Bostonian moved uncomfortably under the warmth of +the noonday sun, and glanced down at the dry, glaring pavement; then he +stooped to turn up his trousers. + +"All right," he announced, "is it an arroyo or has the hose used in +putting out 'the fire' suddenly burst?" + +"Neither. The arroyo was a block further south. It ran down what is now +Sacramento Street, and you ought to know enough about the fire to +realize that we couldn't use our fire hose, because the earthquake broke +the water mains." + +"Then there was an earthquake!" He shot an amused glance at me. "You're +the first Californian I've heard acknowledge it." + +"Oh yes, there was an earthquake--but it didn't do much damage," I +hastened to add. "Just 'knocked down a few chimneys and rickety +buildings that the city was going to pull down anyway. It was the fire +that destroyed the city." + +"So Mother Nature was just favoring 'Frisco by lending a helping hand to +the city officials," he laughed. "Well, you see I'm prepared for the +deluge." He indicated his upturned trousers. "But if it isn't an arroyo--" + +"It's the bay," I explained. "It used to touch the shore about where we +are standing, forming a little inlet called Yerba Buena Cove." + +"But," objected the man, mentally measuring the distance down the +straight paved street to where the slender shaft-like tower of the Ferry +Building broke the sky line, "it must be seven blocks from here to the +present waterfront, two thousand feet at least." + +"Yes, fully that," I agreed. "A large part of the business section of +San Francisco stands on made-land. The water along the shore, here at +Montgomery street, was very shallow, and at the time of the gold rush, +when seven or eight hundred vessels were waiting in the bay to discharge +their freight and passengers, a corporation of energetic Americans built +a long wharf from here to the deep water, where the ships were anchored. +Look down Commercial Street to the Ferry Building and, instead of the +houses on either side, imagine it open to the water. Then you will see +Central Wharf as it was in 'forty-nine.'" + +"Central Wharf!" The name had caught his interest. + +"Yes, it was called that from the one you have in Bost." + +"Bost?" he repeated, mystified. "Bost?" + +"Yes, Bost!" I answered. "You called our, city 'Frisco, not five minutes +ago, so why shouldn't I--" + +"I beg your pardon," he said humbly. "I will never offend in that way +again." + +"But the building of the wharves and the filling in of the waterfront +belong to a later time and we are back in Spanish days. When Vancouver +landed he tells us that he cast anchor within a small inlet surrounded +by green hills, on which herds and cattle were grazing. Historians say +that his ship lay about where the Ferry Building now stands and that the +crew put off for the shore in small boats. This place was a waste of +sand-dunes and chaparral but the Englishmen were refreshed by the cool +waters of the arroyo and spent a pleasant morning shooting quail and +grouse." + +"Quail, grouse and chaparral," he repeated, as his eyes traveled up and +down the solidly built blocks and rested on the pedestrians hurrying in +and out of the buildings. "Let's take a look at the bed of the arroyo." + +We paused at the corner and for a moment watched the car laboriously +climb the Sacramento Street hill and disappear over the crest; then we +turned for another look at the mass of buildings now resting on the +solid ground which had taken the place of the shining waters of Yerba +Buena Cove. + +"It was about here," I announced, "that the arroyo opened out into the +Laguna Dulce, a little fresh water pool where Richardson's Indians +delighted to take a cold plunge on leaving their steaming temescal." + +"Richardson? Hardly a Spanish name!" + +"No, but a Spaniard by naturalization and marriage. He was an Englishman +who had come to the coast in the whaler 'Orion,' and being fascinated by +the country and the carefree Spanish life, had married a lovely little +señorita, the daughter of Lieutenant Martinez, later Comandante of the +Presidio. Richardson settled on a ranch at Sausalito and in 1835, when +Governor Figueroa decided to establish a commercial city on the shore of +Yerba Buena Cove, he appointed as harbor master, this Englishman, who +was already carrying on a small business with the Yankee skippers, and +the future town was made a port of entry for all vessels trading up and +down the coast. Richardson built the first house in the little +settlement of Yerba Buena, afterwards San Francisco." + +"Since this is an historic pilgrimage, we must take a look at the spot +where the first house stood. Is it far?" + +"Only a few blocks," I assured him. "But we shall have to venture into +the heart of Chinatown." + +We made our way up Sacramento Street, where the straight-lined grey +business blocks gave way to fantastic pagoda-like buildings gaily +decorated in green, red, and yellow. Bits of carved ivory, rich lacquer +ware and choice pieces of satsuma and cloisonné appeared in the windows. +In quiet, padded shoes, the sallow-faced, almond-eyed throng shuffled +by, us; here a man with a delicate lavender lining showing below his +blue coat, there a slant-eyed woman with her sleek black hair rolled +over a brilliant jade ornament, leading by the hand a little boy who +looked as if he had stepped out of a picture book with his yellow +trousers and pink coat. + +We turned to the right at Grant Avenue, passing a building conspicuous +on account of its elaborately carved balconies hung with yellow lanterns +and ornamented with plants growing in large blue and white china pots. +The Bostonian looked curiously at the Orientals lounging about the door, +then his face brightened as he read the words, "Chop Suey." + +"It's a Chinese restaurant," he exclaimed delightedly. "Let's go in for +a cup of tea, as soon as we have taken a look at your historic +landmarks." + +On the northwest corner of Grant Avenue and Clay Street, we paused +before a dingy four-story brick building on whose sides were pasted long +strips of red paper ornamented with quaint Chinese characters. I +secretly wished that the building had been designed as a gay pagoda with +bright colored, turned-up eaves like many of those in Chinatown and that +its windows had displayed the choice embroideries and carved ivories of +some of its neighbors, but as we peered through the glass, we saw only +utilitarian articles for the coolie Chinaman. + +"Rather a sordid setting for my story," I bemoaned. "The first house in +commercial San Francisco stood here. It was only a sail stretched around +four pine posts, but two years later was replaced by a picturesque, +red-tiled adobe, so commodious that the Spaniards called it the Casa +Grande. I am afraid the building now occupying the spot where the second +house stood will be equally disappointing," I said ruefully, as we +recrossed the street to where a Chinese butcher and vegetable vender was +displaying his wares. We gazed curiously at the dangling pieces of dried +fish, strings of sausage-like meat, unfamiliar vegetables, lichee nuts +and sticks of green sugar cane. + +"Somewhat different from the silks, satins and laces displayed on this +spot by Jacob Leese in Spanish days," I reflected. "He was a Bostonian, +who like Richardson had become an adopted son of California and settled +at Yerba Buena for the purpose of trading with the American vessels." + +"This must have been a lively business center." The man raised his voice +above the rumble of the wagons and cars. "Two little houses in the midst +of a sea of sand-dunes and no settlement nearer than the Mission." + +"Oh, it didn't take the American long to make things hum," I assured +him. "He arrived here on July second. Two days later he had built a +house and was entertaining all the Spaniards from miles around, at a +grand Fourth of July celebration." + +"Quick work even for a Yankee," laughed my companion. "But rather hard +on his English neighbor, I should think. Did Richardson attend?" + +"Of course he did! Delivered the invitations, too! Leese was busy +building his house, so the Englishman, in his little launch, called at +all the ranchos and settlements about the bay and invited the Spaniards +to come to Yerba Buena for a Fourth of July fandango." + +We retraced our steps and a few doors beyond entered the gay, balconied +restaurant, in quest of a cup of tea served in Oriental style. Climbing +the steep stairs, we passed the first floor where laborers were being +served with steaming bowls of rice; then mounted to the more +aristocratic level where we were seated at elaborately carved teakwood +tables, inlaid with mother-of-pearl. While waiting for our tea, we +stepped onto the balcony which we had regarded with so much interest +from the street. Above us hung the gorgeous lanterns, swaying like +bright bubbles in the breeze, and below moved the silent blue-coated +throng. + +"So there was a Fourth of July celebration here even in Spanish times?" +said the man. "Somewhat prophetic of the American days to come, wasn't +it?" + +We caught a glint of color in the street and leaned far over the balcony +to watch a violet-coated Chinese girl thread her way among the sombre +crowd. + +"It must have been just below us that the early festivities were held," +I suggested. "Leese's house was not large enough to accommodate his +guests, so a big marquee surmounted by Mexican and American flags, and +gaily decorated with bunting, was spread about where the street now +runs. Can't you picture it all? The dainty little señoritas in their +silk and satin gowns, with filmy mantillas thrown over their heads and +shoulders, and the men not less gorgeous in lace-trimmed velvet suits +and elaborate serapes. I can almost hear the applause and the booming of +the cannon that followed General Vallejo's glowing tribute to +Washington, and see the graceful Spanish dancers as they assembled for +the evening ball. It was doubtless at this time that Leese met General +Vallejo's fascinating sister, whom he married after a short and +business-like courtship." + +"Short, and she a Californian?" He sent me an amused glance. + +"Perhaps Leese thought delay dangerous," I suggested, "for Señorita +María Rosalia was one of the belles of the new military outpost at +Sonomá and more than one gaily clad caballero was suing for her hand." + +"No wonder the American pushed the matter," laughed my companion. "Did +many Boston men marry Spanish Señoritas?" + +"Nearly all who came to the Coast," I answered. "The California women +were among the most fascinating in the world and held a peculiar charm +for these sturdy New Englanders." + +"I can understand that," he said, bending for a better look at my face. +"But what could the dainty señoritas see in these crude; raw-boned +Yankees?" + +"Just what any woman would see," I declared. "Men of sterling character, +working against terrible odds, with that courage which does not know the +word failure. They saw men of perseverance, energy and brains who were +bringing into the country the indomitable spirit of New England." + +"I am glad you have a good word for the early Yankees," he said, "and I +wish your enthusiasm extended to a later generation." + +He turned toward me and I felt the telltale color sweep my cheeks as I +became conscious that I was thinking less of Leese and his compatriots +than of the Bostonian at my side. + +"It wasn't the New England spirit," he declared, "that gave these early +settlers the strength and determination to succeed. It was the women who +had faith in them. A man can accomplish anything if the woman he loves-- +" My companion had moved close to my side, and his voice was low as he +bent over me. "Little girl," he began, "last year in Boston when you +came into my life--" + +The harsh jangle of a Chinese orchestra broke the dull murmur of the +street and in an instant the little balcony was crowded with gazers +eager to catch a glimpse of the musicians through the windows opposite. + +My companion and I moved aside for the new corners and turned again +toward the interior. Through the open door we could see the waiter +placing steaming cups of tea upon the table we had deserted, and +re-entering the room, we seated ourselves in the big carved arm-chairs. +Sipping the delicious beverage, we glanced toward the other tables, +where groups of Chinamen were talking in a curious jargon and +dexterously handling the thin ebony chop-sticks. On the wide +matting-covered couches extending along the sidewalls, lounged +sallow-faced Orientals, while in and out among the diners noiselessly +moved the waiters, balancing on their heads, large brown straw trays. +Snowy rice cakes, shreds of candied cocoanut, preserved ginger and brown +paper-shell nuts with the usual Chinese eating utensils were placed +before us. We tried the slender chop-sticks with laughable failure and +then, declaring that fingers were made first, we had no further trouble. +We took a farewell look at the gilt carved screens and long banners, +which in quaint Chinese characters wished us health and happiness. Then +following our smiling attendant to the door, we were bowed down the +stairway. A Chinaman leaned over the railing and called the amount of +our bill to the attendant on the second floor, who like an echo took it +up and sent it on to the main entrance, where we settled our account. + +Again on the sidewalk, we mingled with the Oriental throng whose +expressionless yellow faces gave no hint of joy or sorrow. At the corner +we turned east and made our way toward Portsmouth Square. I paused and +let my eyes run over my companion, from his emaculate linen collar to +his well-polished shoes. + +"You'll look sadly out of place here," I warned. "No artist would ever +take such a well-groomed person for a model, nor would you be suspected +of belonging to the great army of the unemployed." + +"Are they the only classes allowed? Then I speak now for the purchasing +right of your portrait." + +"Oh, I'll pose very well as the 'Amelican' teacher of those little +Chinese butterflies fluttering after that kite. Aren't they attractive +in their lavender, pink, and blue sahms?" I said, as we seated ourselves +on the bench. + +"To be honest, to be kind, to earn a little, to spend a little less,'" +he read from the face of the fountain standing against a clump of trees +whose soft foliage drooped caressingly over it. "Why, that's from +Stevenson's Christmas sermon. Look at that unappreciative brute! He +drank without reading a word!" exclaimed the man indignantly. + +"Yes, but he feels the better for coming here. He received the +refreshment most needed and that is what Stevenson would have wished. +Some other may need and will receive the spiritual help." + +"Why is it here?" he asked. + +"Because Stevenson loved this place and came often to sit on the benches +and study the wrecked and drifting lives of the men who lounged in the +square." + +"And the gilded ship on top with its full blown sails--that must +suggest his Treasure Island, doesn't it?" + +"Yes, and also the Manila Galleon, that splendid treasure-ship ladened +with silk, wax and spices from the Philippines and China, which once +each year made its landfall near Cape Mendocino and followed the line of +the coast down to Mexico." + +He leaned with arm outstretched along the back of the bench and surveyed +the park. + +"This, you said, was the old Spanish Plaza. What was here then?" + +"At first just a sweep of tawny sand-dunes, surrounded by scrub oak and +chaparral." I dropped my eyes to the gravel walk, that I might shut out +the emerald green lawns, and flowering shrubs. "Over the shifting +hillocks wandered a little minty vine bearing a delicate white and +lavender flower not unlike your trailing arbutus. It was from the +medicinal qualities of this plant that the little settlement was named +Yerba Buena, the good herb. Over there on the northwest corner where +that dingy Chinese restaurant now floats the flag of Chop Suey stood the +old adobe Custom House, the first building erected on the Plaza, and it +was in front of this that the Stars and Stripes were run up when General +Montgomery, who had arrived in the sloop-of-war Portsmouth, took +possession in the name of the United States." + +"So that is where the square got its name--from the ship 'Portsmouth?'" +His voice rang with the joy of discovery. + +"Yes, but the new name never completely replaced the old. We love the +terms which come to us from Spanish days, and so, to many of us, this is +still the Plaza." + +"I presume there was a great outcry when Montgomery pulled down the +Mexican flag and ran up the American. But I understand the country was +helpless." + +"Yes, it was poorly fortified, and the Californians had known for some +time that Mexico was losing its hold, so the event was not unexpected. +But there was no flag to pull down for the receiver of customs, +realizing that resistance was useless, had packed the Mexican flag in a +trunk with his official papers for safe keeping, so without opposition +General Montgomery marched with seventy men accompanied by fife and drum +from the waterfront to the Plaza, and raised the Stars and Stripes on +the vacant flag pole. Thus the country came into the possession of the +Americans and our historic pilgrimage is at an end," I concluded, +rising. + +But my companion seemed loath to leave the place. We sauntered by +dark-eyed Italian girls lolling on the benches, shaggy bearded old +sailors, whose scarred faces told of fierce battles with the elements, +and stopped to examine the plaster casts presented for our inspection by +a weary-eyed street vender. At a distance, a laughing gypsy girl in a +white waist and much beruffled red plaid skirt was enticing the crowd to +cross her hand with silver that she might tell their fortunes. + +"What need have we for gypsies?" he demanded pulling me down on a bench. +"I'll, read your palm." + +"Can you tell fortunes?" I questioned as I drew off my glove. + +"I can tell yours," he declared straightening out my fingers in his big +strong hand, and examining the lines. + +"He's a tall dark man, wearing glasses--" + +Instinctively I looked up into the uncovered brown eyes, then dropped +mine in confusion as I met his laughing gaze. + +"Only when he reads," added the Bostonian, holding on to my fingers, as +I tried to withdraw my hand. + +An angry voice broke the silence and we sprang to our feet to see an old +man shaking his fist in the face of a young Irish policeman. + +"You let me alone!" he shouted. "You let me alone!" + +For a moment the officer hesitated. Then he seized the old man by the +collar. "Come along quietly! There ain't no use making a howl. There's a +vagrancy law in this city and I'll show you it ain't to be sniffed at. +I've been watching you ever since I've been on this beat and you ain't +done nothing but sit around this Plaza." + +"And ain't I a right to sit 'round this Plaza?" The man pulled himself +free and again defied the officer of the law with a clenched fist. +"Didn't I help make it? When you were playing with a rattle in your crib +over in Dublin, I was a-stringing up a man to the eaves of the old +Custom House over there on the corner. And now you try to arrest me--me +a Vigilante of '51--" His fury choked him, and with a quick turn of the +hand, the officer again had him by the collar. But the old man wrenched +himself loose. + +"You keep your hands off me." He raised his angry voice in warning. Then +drawing a bundle of papers from his pocket he thrust them into the +officer's face. "Look at that--and that--and that--biggest business +blocks in San Francisco. If I choose to wear a loose shirt and sit +'round the Plaza it isn't any business of yours. In the good old days of +forty-nine--" + +I touched the Bostonian on the arm. "Let's go to the Exposition," I +suggested. "We've seen everything here." + +"There's no need to hurry! We've all the afternoon before us." He edged +a little closer to the old man, about whom a crowd was gathering. + +"In the good old days of forty-nine," rang out again and I glanced +nervously at my companion. "We didn't have any dipper-dapper policemen +making mistakes." He snapped his fingers in the officer's face. "We had +good red-shirted miners who knew their business." + +The policeman moved uneasily and handed back the papers. "I guess +they're all right," he acknowledged. "The law doesn't seem to touch +you." + +"Touch me! Well, I guess not!" The officer moved off and the old man +returned to his bench. Before I realized my companion's intention, we +were seated beside the miner. He was still muttering maledictions on the +head of the Irish policeman. + +"The scoundrel!" He dug his stick into the gravel path. "Had the nerve +to arrest me! Me, who strung up Jenkins in the first Vigilante +Committee, and Casey and Cora in the second." + +"You must have come here in early days," remarked the Bostonian. + +"Early days," echoed the miner, "well, I guess I did. I'm a +forty-niner." He straightened himself proudly and looked to see the +effect of his words. + +"I think we had better go." Again I touched the Antiquary's arm but he +gave no heed to my signal. + +"There must have been some stirring times here in the days of the gold +rush." + +"You bet there were," agreed the forty-niner, "and the entire history of +San Francisco was made around this Plaza. Here were built the first +hotel, the first school-house, the first bank; within a stone's throw +the first Protestant sermon was preached, the first newspaper was +printed and the first post office was opened. It was through the Plaza +that Sam Brannan ran with a bottle of yellow dust in one hand, waving +his hat with the other and shouting, 'Gold! gold! from the American +River!' It was here that the big gambling houses sprang up, where +fortunes were made and lost in a night, and here the first Vigilance +Committee met and executed justice." The old man paused for breath. + +I was on the edge of the bench ready for flight. All my good work of the +last two days was rapidly being undermined. I heard again the skeptic's +contemptuous tone of yesterday. "It's either before the fire" or "in the +good old days of forty-nine." + +"We--we must go," I stammered, "it's getting very late." The Bostonian +looked at his watch. "Not three o'clock yet." He leaned back +comfortably. "You ought to be interested in this. Your grandfather was a +forty-niner." + +I looked at him searchingly. I ought to be interested! I, who cherished +every memory of pioneer days! I, who had bitten my lips a dozen times +that afternoon, and was glorying in the tact and strength of mind which +had avoided this period of our history! + +The miner, apparently aware of my presence for the first time, sent me a +piercing glance from beneath his shaggy eyebrows. "So your grandfather--" + +"He wasn't exactly a forty-niner," I acknowledged. "He arrived outside +the Heads the night of December thirty-first but there was a heavy fog +and the vessel didn't get inside until the next morning." + +"Hard luck," sympathized the old man, "coming near to being a +forty-niner and missing it." + +"But it's practically the same thing," persisted the Bostonian. "Only a +few hours." + +"The same thing!" scornfully repeated the miner. "There's as much +difference as between Christmas and Fourth of July. A forty-niner's a +forty-niner, and a man that came in fifty--well, he might as well have +come in sixty or seventy, or even in the twentieth century. It's the +forty-niner that counts in this community." He drew himself up proudly. +Then plunging his hand deep into his pocket, drew out a nugget. + +"Picked that up off my first claim," he explained, "but the dirt didn't +pan out so well. I've carried it in my pocket all these years, just for +the sentiment of the thing, I suppose. Many a time I was tempted to +throw it on a table in the El Dorado, but I hung on to it." + +"The El Dorado?" questioned the Easterner. + +"Yes, one of the big gambling places here on the Plaza. Everybody took a +chance in those days, even some of the preachers. You met all your +friends there, and heard the best music and the latest news." + +"Did they gamble with nuggets?" my companion led the old man on. + +"Well, I guess they did! and gold dust in piles. The few children in +town used to pan out the dirt of the Plaza in front of the Temples of +Chance every morning after the places were swept out. The Californians +put up parts of their ranchos, too, sometimes." + +"How high did the stakes run?" Evidently this descendant of the Pilgrims +had not lost all the sporting blood of his earlier English ancestors. + +"Often as high as five hundred or a thousand dollars. The largest stake +I ever saw change hands was forty-five thousand. Many a miner went back +to the placers in the spring without a dollar in his pockets. But +everybody was doing it and you could almost count the nationalities in +the crowd around the table by the kinds of coins in the stacks. There +were French francs, English crowns, East Indian rupees, Spanish pesos +and United States dollars. The dress was as different as the money. We +miners wore red and blue shirts, slouch hats and wide belts to carry our +dust. The Californians were gorgeous in coats trimmed in gold lace, +short pantaloons and high deer-skin boots, and the Chinese ran a close +second in their colored brocaded silks. You knew the professional +gamblers by their long black coats and white linen--real gentlemen, many +of 'em and the most honest in the country. + +"Ever see a picture of the Plaza in forty-nine," he asked abruptly. + +"Never." + +The miner drew a square on the gravel path with his stick. "The El +Dorado was here, the Veranda here and the Bella Union here," he said, +punching holes on the three corners of Kearny and Washington. "They were +the finest and they had the best locations in town. The El Dorado paid +forty thousand dollars a year for a tent and twenty-five thousand a +month for a building on the same site later." The end of his stick +deepened the hole on the southeast corner. + +My eyes wandered from the plan to the real location. "Why, there is the +name 'Veranda' over there now," I exclaimed as the black letters on a +white awning caught my eye. + +"Yes, it is pretty near the old site, but it's a poor substitute for its +predecessor," he added scornfully. "There was great style in those days +--fine bars, lots of glass and mirrors and pictures worth thousands of +dollars. The doors were always open from eleven in the morning 'til +daylight the next morning, and a steady stream of people were pouring in +and out all the time. Everybody was there. There weren't no special +inducement to stay home nights, when your residence was a bunk on the +wall of a shanty and the fellers over you and under you and across the +room weren't even acquaintances. I got a pretty good room after awhile +in the Parker House"--he drew a small oblong south of the El Dorado-- +"for a hundred dollars a week, but I didn't stay long." + +"I should think not--at that price." + +"Oh, it wasn't the price. One of my friends paid two hundred and fifty. +But you see it got pretty warm at the Parker House, that Christmas eve, +and so we all moved. They cleared away the hot ashes of the hotel and +built the Jenny Lind Theatre on the spot. That was the first big fire. +We had them right along after that, every few weeks. Six big ones in +eighteen months, with lots' of little ones in between." + +"Then the last fire wasn't a new experience for you," the Bostonian +suggested. + +"Lord, no! Rebuilding was a habit with us early San Franciscans. We +didn't begin to feel sorry for a man 'til he'd lost everything he owned +three times. The Jenny Lind Theatre went down six times and the seventh +building was sold for the City Hall. It stood right there"--he pointed +to the handsome new Hall of Justice--"until it went up in the last +fire." + +"You are sure it wasn't the earthquake that finished it?" inquired the +skeptic. + +"Certainly not," I flared. "The Relief Committee met there that morning +to lay their plans while the fires were raging south of Market Street." + +He acknowledged defeat by changing the subject. "Was the old Spanish +Custom House here?" he asked, pointing to the western side of the +diagram. + +"Yes," assented the miner, and he traced an oblong on the northern end, +"and just behind it, on Washington Street, was Sam Brannan's house. He +was the Mormon leader, you know, and brought a shipload of his followers +to establish a settlement in forty-six. He published our first +newspaper, the 'California Star,' in his house." + +"Was it where that little green Chinese building with the bracketed +columns and turned-up eaves is?" I interposed. + +"The telephone exchange, you mean? Exact spot. They used to ring a hand +bell in the Plaza on Sunday mornings to call the Mormons to hear Brannan +preach in the Casa Grande." + +"Richardson's house!" My companion sent me an appreciative glance. + +"Sure, but that was before most of 'em, including Sam, went back on +their faith. Next to the Custom House on the south," he continued, "was +the Public Institute. It wasn't much to look at--just pine boards--but +it was considerable useful. They held the Public School there and had +preaching on Sundays 'til the teacher, the preacher and all the audience +went off to the mines. They tried the Hounds there, too." + +"The Hounds?" my friend looked dazed. + +"Yes, the Sidney Coves that lived in Sidneyville, along there on Kearny +near Pacific." Light had failed to dawn. + +"Here on the corner of Kearny," continued the Forty-niner, "was an old +adobe building with a red-tiled roof and a veranda around it." + +"The City Hotel!" I exclaimed delightedly. + +"How did you know?" He eyed me curiously. + +"My grandfather was a near-forty-niner," I reminded him. + +"Oh yes. Too bad! Too bad!" he added sympathetically. "It was the house +and store of a fellow named Leidesdorff," he continued, "who did a lot +of trading with the Yankee skippers in Mexican days, and it was turned +into a hotel in the gold rush. It was always the swell place for +blowouts. They had a big banquet and ball there for Governor Stockton, +I'm told, after the procession and speeches in the Plaza, and another +the next year for Governor Kearny; the first Relief Committee met here, +called by Brannan, Howard and Vallejo, to send rescuers to the Sierras +for the survivors of the Donner Party. There wasn't much of any +importance in the way of gathering that didn't happen there." + +We instinctively looked across at the square, three-story, pressed-brick +home of the Chinese Consulate and bank. + +"Every big fire took at least one side of the Plaza, and the sixth, in +June of fifty-one, wiped out the whole square. That adobe was the last +link between the Spanish village of Yerba Buena and its American +successor, San Francisco," he regretted, "but it was a good thing for +the city, for they began to build with stone and brick after that. Did +you see the Parrott Building, as you came along, on California and +Montgomery?" he asked. + +The Easterner turned to me. "You didn't show me that," he said, +reprovingly. + +"No, why should I? It wasn't built until fifty-two." + +He ignored my insinuation and turned back to his informer. "What about +the Parrott Building? It sounds like an aviary." + +"Not exactly," he smiled. "It was made of granite blocks, cut and +dressed and marked in China and then shipped over and set up by the +'China Boys,' as the Orientals here called themselves." + +"It's a curious coincidence," I ventured, "that the Hong Kong Bank now +occupies the lower floor. What a freak of the winds it was that swept +the big fire around that and the Montgomery block, and left them both +for posterity!" + +"Your fire seemed to have had a special veneration for historic +structures," the Easterner commented. "It respected the Mission in like +manner." + +"Yes, somewhat," returned the miner, "but it might have had a little +more respect and spared the Tehama House and the What Cheer House. I +hated to see them go." + +"And the Niantic Hotel and Fort Gunnybags," I added. + +"Here! Here! I rise for a point of information," cried the alien. "Did +the cheer inebriate and what is the technical difference between +gunny-sacks and carpet bags?" + +"Oh, that was our Vigilance Headquarters of fifty-six, where we hung +Casey and Cora," elucidated the Forty-niner. + +"Help," gasped the Bostonian, sinking upon the bench. + +"Tell him," I nodded to the miner. + +"The Tehama House, on the waterfront at California and Sansome, was the +swell hotel for army and navy people and all the Spanish rancheros when +they came to town. You couldn't keep even your thoughts to yourself in +that house, for it had thin board sidings and cloth and paper +partitions, but it had lots of style, and Rafael set a great table. They +moved it over to Montgomery and Broadway to make room for the Bank of +California, and the fire caught it there. The What Cheer House," the old +man's eyes brightened, "was on Sacramento and Leidesdorff, and that's +where we miners went, if we could get in. Woodward was a queer chap. +Took you in whether you could pay or not. But it was only a man's hotel. +There wasn't a woman allowed about the place. He had the only library in +town and everybody was welcome to use it. I've often seen Mark Twain and +Bret Harte reading at the table." + +"And the sacks?" queried the Bostonian. + +But the old man had leaned back on the bench and his eyes wandered over +the green grass and trees of the square. "It's much prettier than it +used to be," he admitted, "but nothing happens here now. The Chinese +children fly kites and the unemployed loaf on the benches and the grass, +and I'm one of them. I wish you could have seen it in the early days." +His eyes kindled with excitement. "It was only a barren hillside, but +there was always something doing then. All the town meetings were held +here in the open air and all the parades ended here for the speeches. +The biggest celebration was in 1850, when the October steamer, flying +all her flags, brought the news that California was admitted to the +Union. We went wild, for we had waited for that word for more than a +year. Every ship in the harbor displayed all her bunting and at night +every house was as brilliant as candles and coal oil could make it. +Bonfires blazed on all the hills and the islands and we had music and +dancing all over the town 'til morning." + +He paused in reminiscence. "But it wasn't so gay that moonlight night, +the next February, when we hung Jenkins. He was a Sidney Cove and had +just stole a safe, but that was the least of his crimes and of the whole +gang. When we Vigilantes heard the taps on the firebell here in the +Plaza, we gathered in front of the committee rooms. Nobody was excited; +we just had to drive out the Sidney Coves and put an end to crime. We +marched Jenkins here and hung him over there to the beam on the south +end of the Custom House. Forty of us pulled on the rope, while a +thousand more stood 'round as solemn as a prayer meeting to give us +moral support and shoulder the responsibility. It wasn't no joke hanging +a man, but it had to be done, if decent men was to live here." + +He shook off his depression. "Everybody was in the Plaza sometime in the +day, and once a month when Telegraph Hill signaled a steamer, everybody +was here." + +"Telegraph Hill? I never heard of it," he cast an accusing glance in my +direction. + +"It belongs to forty-nine," I retorted. + +"All the shops closed immediately," continued the miner, "and Postmaster +Geary was the most important man in town. The post-office was a block up +the hill at Clay and Pike Streets, but the lines from the windows +stretched down into the Plaza, and over among the tents and chaparral on +California Street Hill. Men stood for hours, sometimes all night, in the +pouring rain, and many a time I sold my place for ten dollars, and even +twenty, to some fellow who had less patience or less time than I. + +"But you should have been here on election day in fifty-one." The miner +threw back his head and laughed aloud. "Colonel Jack Hays was running +for sheriff," he resumed, "and his opponent hired a band to play in +front of his store here on the Plaza as an advertisement. It worked +fine! He was polling all the votes and the Colonel was about out of the +running, 'til he got on his horse that he'd used on the Texas ranges and +came cavorting into the square. He showed 'em some fancy turns they +weren't used to and kept it up 'til the polls closed." + +"Did he win?" I asked excitedly. + +"Well, I guess he did! Hands down. But a sheriff ain't no use when the +laws won't stick. That's why we had to have the Vigilance Committees." + +I arose. That was a long story and the afternoon was fast going. My +companion took the hint. He extended his hand and grasped the old +miner's heartily. + +"I thank you," he said, "you have opened up a new epoch to me and I +shall not soon forget you. I shall come again and the place will have +lost much of its interest if you are not here." + +"Oh, I'll be here," laughed the old fellow. "It's home to me." + + + +Telegraph Hill + +The Latin Quarter. The signal station of '49 and a view of the city as +it was. The Golden Gate. + + + +Telegraph Hill of Unique Fame + +"Would you like to go up 'crazy owld, daisy owld Telegraft Hill'," I +asked in a softened mood as we moved away. "There is just about time." + +"Indeed I should," he answered. "Can we take in some of the other things +you archaeologists were mentioning on the way? I don't want to miss +anything." + +"We must leave the Parrott and Niantic buildings until some other day, +but you can see the Montgomery Block if you wish," and we turned down +Washington Street. "It was built on piles, by General Halleck's law +firm. William Tecumseh Sherman's bank was nearby, but I suppose most of +Boston's business men were generals-in-chief of the United States Army." + +My irony was ignored and as we reached the corner of Montgomery, I +continued: "It was on this spot that James King of William, editor of +the 'Bulletin,' was shot down by James P. Casey, the ballot-box stuffer. +The newspaper office was at the other end of the block on Merchant +Alley, and that evening's editorial accused Casey of electing himself +supervisor and stated that he was an ex-convict from Sing Sing. Within +an hour after the paper appeared, Mr. King was carried dying to his room +in the same building. It was this murder that brought the second +Vigilance Committee into existence. While the immense funeral cortège, +the largest San Francisco has ever known, escorted the body of Mr. King +up this street toward Lone Mountain Cemetery, Casey and Cora, another +criminal, were hung in front of the Vigilance, Headquarters on +Sacramento near Front." + +"You called it Fort Gunnybags ?" he queried. + +"Yes, it was so named from the precautionary bulwark of sand-filled +sacks piled up in a hollow square in front to protect the entrance. A +bronze plate marked the old building before the fire." + +We turned into Columbus Avenue. "Your beloved Stevenson used to live at +No. 8, there on the gore where the Italian Bank is," I said. "We are +coming to the Latin Quarter, a section that has always been given over +to foreigners, for in early days 'Sidneyville,' peopled by +ticket-of-leave men from the penal colony of Australia, and 'Little +Chile' of the Peruvians and Chileans, clustered close around the base of +Telegraph Hill." + +"The very place Stevenson would choose, where life was flavored with +history and the mystery of the foreign. But where are you going?" he +exclaimed, stopping short as I began to ascend the steps by which Kearny +Street climbs the hill. + +"I thought you wished to see the site of the Marine Signal Station." I +looked down at him from the fourth stair with feigned surprise. + +"I do, indeed, but--can't we go up by a funicular and come down this +way?" he compromised. "My Boston calves protest." + +"Oh well, we can go by the level a little farther, but I thought you +liked the 'flavor of the foreign.' Anyway, we ought to see Earl +Cummings' old man," I remembered. + +"What is his fatherland and his business?" he asked as his eye traveled +over the shop signs "Sanguinetti, Farmacia Italiana," "Molinari & +Cariani, Grocers;" "Oliva & Brizzolara, Real Estate." + +"His birthplace is the World Universal, and his profession-leading us +back to nature," I answered. Then, as we passed the spick and span +concrete façade of the Patronal Church of St. Francis, with its rear of +burned brick: "This is the direct descendent of the old Mission," I told +him, "the first Parish Church of San Francisco. It was gutted by the +fire and is being very gradually restored. A notice within administers +an implied rebuke: 'The First Erected--the Last Restored.'" + +We paused at the iron fence of the small green triangle cut off from +Washington Square by the slant of Columbus Avenue, and peered at the +fine bronze figure of a sinewy old man stooping to drink from his hand +on the edge of the little pool. + +"Mr. Cummings' message to his universal brothers," he commented. "None +could fail to be refreshed by it. My strength is renewed. Let us +ascend," and he turned up Filbert Street. + +Dark-eyed women lounged in the doorways of the houses that cling to the +perpendicular sides of the hill. "The Italian pervades," I volunteered, +"but there are Greek, Sicilians, Spaniards and French." The whole was +reminiscent of the South of Europe, but the Neapolitan scene of cleated +walks and steep steps lacked the enlivening color notes of the homeland. + +"Not even a red shirt on a clothes line," I regretted, but a flood of +soft voweled Italian from a woman in a third story window, musically +answered by a man in the street below, brought consolation. + +"The opera's own tongue," the Bostonian commented. + +"Well, you leave it to me," finished the man in the street. + +"Sure, Mike, I will," responded the woman. + +My companion halted in consternation. + +"We make American citizens of them all," I asserted. + +"Les petits enfants aussi," I added as a child ran past, shouting a +response in irreproachable English to the Parisian command of her +mother. + +We turned through the rude stone wall into Pioneer Park and along the +unkept paths shaded by eucalyptus, cypress and acacia trees and came +upon the open height where the mountain-hemmed bay lay in broad expanse +before us, dotted with islands and with ferries streaking their way +across its blue-gray surface. + +"Wonderful," he exclaimed under his breath. + + '"O, Telegraft Hill, she sits proud as a Queen, + And th' docks lie below in th' glare,'" + +I quoted from Wallace Irwin. + +He lowered his gaze to the numerous wharves running out into the water, +with teams appearing and disappearing at the entrances of the covered +docks, like lines of busy ants. + + "'And th' bay runs beyant her, all purple and green + Wid th' gingerbread island out there,'" + +I continued the quotation. + +"What are those terraced buildings?" he queried. + +"It has been the military prison for years. It is Alcatraz Island." + +He looked his inquiry. + +"Spanish for Pelican," I answered, seating myself on a rock. "Ayala, the +captain of the 'San Carlos,' the first ship to enter the bay, named it +from the large number of the birds he found on it, and the big island to +the right that looks like a portion of the main land is Angel Island, +abbreviated from Ayala's Isla de Nuestra Señora de los Angeles." + +"And Goat Island?" he questioned as he threw himself down on the grass. + +"Yerba Buena," I corrected. "The other name was colloquially applied +when Nathan Spear, being given some goats and kids by a Yankee skipper, +put them over there. There were several thousand on the island in +forty-nine, but the Americans killed them all off by night in spite of +Spear's protests." + +"Not all of them," he denied as he shied a stick at a white head +reaching from below for a grassy clump. + + "'And th' goats and chicks and brickbats and sticks + Is joombled all over the face of it, + Av Telegraft Hill, Telegraft Hill, + Crazy owld, daisy owld Telegraft Hill,'" + +I laughed. + +"I suppose the Spaniards must have had a name for this sightly hill," +said the Bostonian, his eye tracing the rugged skyline across the bay, +along the Tamalpais Range on the north, and the San Antonio Hills on the +east. + +"Yes, Anza christened it in 1776 when he climbed up here for a view +after selecting the sites for the Presidio and the Mission. He called it +La Loma Alta, and the High Hill it remained until the Americans put it +to commercial use in forty-nine. The little town on the edge of the cove +in the hollow of the hills was unconscious of a ship entering the harbor +until she rounded Clark's Point, the southeast corner of this hill, and +dropped anchor in full view--" + +"Any relation to Champ?" he interrupted. + +"No, Clark was a Mormon, although he afterward denied it, who had built +a wharf in the deep water along the precipitous bluff, where ships could +always disembark even when the ebb-tide uncovered mud-flats elsewhere +along the shore of the cove. + +"The American miners and merchants, eager for the earliest news of the +approaching mails and merchandise, erected a signal station on the top +of Loma Alta, about where that flag-pole is. When a vessel was seen +entering the Golden Gate, the black arms of the semaphore on top of the +building were raised in varying positions indicating to the watching +town below, where every one knew the signals, whether it was a bark, a +brig, a steamer or other kind of craft. This was the first wireless +station on the coast. + +"There comes a side-wheeler," I exclaimed, raising my arms upward in a +slanting position, as a big liner from Yokohama entered the channel. +"Now fancy every office and bank closed, every law-court adjourned, +every gaming table deserted; the shore black with people and long lines +forming from the post-office windows to await the anchoring of the +vessel, the landing of friends and freight, and the sorting of the mail +by Postmaster Geary." + +My companion made a telescope of his two hands and examined the Nippon +Maru. "You are discharged for inefficiency," he said. "You are reporting +a side-wheeler for a screw-propeller." + +"There is no signal in the code for such modern inventions," I retorted. +"I suppose the fog of your practical realism is too obscuring for you to +see that clipper just coming in," I continued, as a full-rigged ship +spread its filled sails against the glowing sky of the late afternoon. + +"The lady is a bit sarcastic, Billy," he addressed the goat, "but we'll +examine it." Then peering through his telescoped hands again, "It's the +clipper ship Eclipse," he announced, "built especially for speed, in the +exigencies of the San Francisco trade, with long, narrow hull, and +carrying an extra amount of canvas. She has made the trip from New York +in three-quarters of the time required by any other kind of craft, and +demands, therefore, nearly double the price for freight." He looked at +me for approval. + +"What a whetstone for the imagination the business sense is!" I +commented. "Perhaps if your grandfather owned shares in the Eclipse, you +will be able to see the second signal station erected the next year on +Point Lobos, just beyond the Fort. From there a vessel could be decried +many miles outside the Heads and the signal repeated by the station here +on Telegraph Hill, relieved the inhabitants of several more hours of +anxiety." + +"Anxiety is a mild term if one couldn't hear for a whole month from the +girl who had his heart," he commented. "It's bad enough when she won't +write, even with a telegraph and railroad between." He was tracing some +characters in the ground at my feet, with a stick. "Thirty-four days," I +made out. + +"If you've sufficiently recovered from the climb, shall we see how the +city looks from up here?" I asked. + +For answer he sprang up and assisted me to my feet. We walked to the +opposite side of the park, where the city lay extended before us. + +"Imagine a forest of masts here in the bay, about seven or eight +hundred; the water laying Montgomery Street beyond the Merchants' +Exchange--that yellow brick building with the little arched cupola; and +wharves running out from every street to reach the ships lying in deep +water, every one swarming with teams and men hurrying to and fro. +Connect them with piled walks over the water on the lines of Sansome and +Battery Streets and you have a picture of Yerba Buena Cove in +forty-nine. Heap up freight and baggage on the shore, erect thousands of +tents on the sand dunes around the edges of a town of shanties and +adobes climbing over the hills and you have our miner's metropolis," I +sketched for him. + +"I see it," he said, shutting his eyes. "Now a wave of the magic wand +and the scene is changed." He opened them again. + +"The magic wand is a steam-paddy, working day and night leveling off the +sand-hills and shoveling them into the bay. The wharves are converted +into streets and many good ships, whose crews having deserted for the +mines, being pulled up and used as storage ships, are caught by the +rising tide of sand and converted into foundations for buildings. Such +was the 'Niantic' at Clay and Sansome." + +"Oh yes, the 'Niantic!" + +"The third building on the site still retains the name." + +"What was the case of assault that gave the belligerent name to Battery +Street?" + +"It was a precaution against assault," I corrected. "Captain Montgomery +erected a fortification of five confiscated Spanish guns on the side of +this hill overlooking the harbor after he had taken possession of the +Mexican town. It was known as Fort Montgomery, or the Battery. It was on +the bluff just where Battery Street joins the Embarcadero down there, +for the hill came out to that point." + +"Did the earthquake shake it down?" His question was tinged with +triumph. + +I crushed him with a look. "The ships that came loaded with freight and +passengers took it away with them as ballast," I explained, "and of +recent years some contractors blasted it off and paved streets with it +until it was rescued from further demolition by some appreciative +landmark lovers of a women's club." + +"What a fortunate interference! But the despoilers got a good slice of +it, didn't they? There wouldn't have been much of it left in a few +years." + +"No more than there is of Rincon Hill, over there at the southern corner +of Yerba Buena Cove." I was considerably mollified by his appreciation. +"It was the best residence quarter of the fifties, but the 'unkindest +cut' of Second Street, which brought no good to anyone, not even its +commercial promoters, left it a place of the 'butt ends of streets,' as +Stevenson says, and inaccessible, square-edged, perpendicular lots whose +only value lies buried underneath them. I fear its scars can never be +remedied." + +"You have several hills left," he consoled me as his eye traveled along +the broken western skyline. "What is their role in this historic drama?" + +"The ridge running down the peninsula is the San Miguel Range, crowned +by Twin Peaks, with the Mission at its foot. Nob Hill, next, acquired +its name in the sixties, when the bonanza and railroad kings erected +their residences there. Before the fire"--I felt my color rising, but +there was no shade of change in my companion's expression--"the +mansions of the 'Big Four' of the Central Pacific--Huntington, Hopkins, +Stanford and Crocker--and the Comstock millionaires--Flood, Fair and +others--filled with magnificent works of craftsmen and artists, had +more than local fame." + +"From this distance, with three of the largest buildings in the city, +the hill hardly seems to have fallen from its high estate," he observed. + +"You are quite right. It still lives up to its name, for the Fairmont +Hotel and the Stanford Apartments, christened for two of its former +magnates, and the brown-stone Flood mansion, remodeled for the +Pacific-Union Club, are no whit less nobby than their predecessors." + +"The next hill?" He turned his gaze to the houses perched on the top and +clinging part way down its steep sides. + +"A little graveyard where the Russian gold-seekers were laid to rest +gave its name. It is now the home of the artists and the artistic." + +"A city built on the water and the hills, and rebuilt on the ashes of +seven fires," he commented. "It is almost incomprehensible." After a +moment's pause: "How much of the city was burned by the last fire?" + +I glanced sharply at him. There was no shade of irony in his tone and +his face showed only sincerity. + +"All that you can see, from the fringe of wharves at the waterfront to +the top of the hills and down into the valley beyond, except these +houses here at our feet, saved by the Italians with wine-soaked +blankets, and a few on the heights of Russian Hill." + +"It was colossal!" he exclaimed. "Think of it! a whole city wiped out." +I lowered my eyes to the goat nibbling beside us. "The courage and +energy that rebuilt it is herculean." His enthusiasm was cumulative. +"And rebuilt it in practically three years! No wonder you date all +things from the fire." + +Billy flickered his tail and solemnly winked at me. + +"It is getting late," I said, "but the sun is just setting. Shall we +watch it before we go?" + +Without speaking, he followed me back to our first point of view. The +crimson ball was sinking into the sea, with its Midas touch turning the +water and sky to molten gold. The last rays gilded the cliffs on either +side of the entrance to the bay, and burnished the heads of the nodding +poppies at our feet. From the Presidio came the muffled boom of the +sunset gun. + +"Could Frémont have chosen a better name?" exclaimed the man at my side. +"The Golden Gate it is, indeed!" + +"It certainly is well named," I agreed, "for everyone can interpret its +meaning according to his mood and character. Some see only what Frémont +saw, an open door to commerce; to others it is the entrance to hoards of +gold, stowed away in hills and streams; to the poet it speaks of the +golden poppies that streak the hillsides, but I like to think of it as +did the Indians, who called it 'Yulupa,' the Sunset Strait." + +Silently we watched the lights of the city come out, one by one, until +it seemed as if the heavens lay beneath us. + +"I hoped when I left Boston that you would return with me," he said +gently, "but I can't ask you to leave this. I didn't understand then, +but now--" + +The lights became blurred and the night seemed suddenly to have grown +cold. + +"Of course, you couldn't be happy--" + +The voice did not sound like his. I had been in a dream for two days. I +had thought he cared just as I did, but he couldn't, or he would realize +that nothing counted but--I bit my lips to keep from crying out. + +"Boston is too cold for a girl with the warmth of California in her +heart." + +Cold! Didn't he know that life with him would make an iceberg paradise? +Didn't he realize--? But, of course, he didn't care as I did! This was +only a subterfuge. I straightened proudly. + +"I can't ask you to go back with me," he was saying, "but I can stay +here with you." His hand crept over mine. "Our business needs a manager +on this coast. Will you help me make a home in San Francisco, dear?" + +Below, the lights of the city danced with happiness and a glad new song +rang in my heart. + + + +Here ends 'The Lure of San Francisco. A Romance Amid Old Landmarks." +Written by Elizabeth Gray Potter and Mabel Thayer Gray and Illustrated +from Sketches in Charcoal by Audley B. Wells. Done into a book by Paul +Elder and Company at their Tomoye Press in San Francisco under the +supervision and care of H. A. Funke, in July, Nineteen Hundred and +Fifteen. + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Lure of San Francisco +by Elizabeth Gray Potter and Mabel Thayer Gray + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE LURE OF SAN FRANCISCO *** + +***** This file should be named 11507-8.txt or 11507-8.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/1/1/5/0/11507/ + +Produced by David A. Schwan <davidsch@earthlink.net> + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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For +example an eBook of filename 10234 would be found at: + + https://www.gutenberg.org/1/0/2/3/10234 + +or filename 24689 would be found at: + https://www.gutenberg.org/2/4/6/8/24689 + +An alternative method of locating eBooks: + https://www.gutenberg.org/GUTINDEX.ALL + + diff --git a/old/11507-8.zip b/old/11507-8.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..637aa07 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/11507-8.zip diff --git a/old/11507.txt b/old/11507.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..617d1c7 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/11507.txt @@ -0,0 +1,2848 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Lure of San Francisco +by Elizabeth Gray Potter and Mabel Thayer Gray + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Lure of San Francisco + A Romance Amid Old Landmarks + +Author: Elizabeth Gray Potter and Mabel Thayer Gray + +Release Date: March 8, 2004 [EBook #11507] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE LURE OF SAN FRANCISCO *** + + + + +Produced by David A. Schwan <davidsch@earthlink.net> + + + + + +The Lure of San Francisco + +A Romance Amid Old Landmarks + + + +By +Elizabeth Gray Potter +and +Mabel Thayer Gray + +Illustrated By +Audley B. Wells + + + +Paul Elder & Company +Publishers San Francisco + + + +Copyright, 1915, By +Paul Elder & Co. +San Francisco + + + +To Our Mother + + + +Preface + +The average visitor considers California's claim to historic recognition +as dating from the discovery of gold. Her children, both by birth and +adoption, have a hazy pride in her Spanish origin but are too busy with +today's interests to take much thought of it. They know that somewhere +over in the Mission is the old adobe church. They rejoice that it +escaped the fire but have no time to visit it. They will proudly tell +their eastern friends of its existence and that the Presidio received +its name from the Spaniards but further narration of the heritage is +lost in exclamations over the beauty of the drives and the views, while +the historic significance of Portsmouth Square is smothered in the +delight over Chinese embroideries, bronzes and cloisonne. + +May this little book aid in the general awaking of the dormant love of +every Californian for his possessions and be a suggestion to the casual +visitor that we are entitled to the dignity of age. + + + +Contents + +Preface +The Mission and its Romance + A view from Twin Peaks--The city with its historic crosses. A visit + to the old church--Its past, and the romance of Lueis Argueello. +The Presidio, Past and Present + The Spanish Fortifications and the love story of Concepcion and + Rezanov. +The Plaza and its Echoes + A Chinese restaurant. Yerba Buena and the reminiscences of a + forty-niner. +Telegraph Hill of Unique Fame + The Latin quarter. The signal station of '49 and a view of the city + as it was. The Golden Gate. + + + +List of Illustrations + +The Mission + "The modern structures crowd upon the low adobe building." +Prayer Book Cross + "A granite cross just visible above the trees in Golden Gate Park." +At Lotta's Fountain + "We watched the people purchasing flowers on the corner." +The Officer's Club House at the Presidio + "Of a different generation from its neighbors." +A Street in Chinatown + "We must take a look at the spot where the first house stood." +Portsmouth Square + "The entire history of San Francisco was made around this Plaza." +A Fountain in the Latin Quarter + "Stooping to drink from his hand on the edge of a little pool." +A Sunset Thro' the Golden Gate + "The last rays gilded the cliffs on either side." + + + +The Mission + +A view from Twin Peaks--The city with its historic crosses. A visit to +the old church--Its past, and the romance of Lueis Argueello. + + + +The Mission and Its Romance + +"Tickets to the city, Sir?" The conductor's voice sounded above the +rumble of the train. As my companion's hand went to his pocket he +glanced at me with a quizzical smile. + +"I should think you Oaklanders would resent that. Hasn't your town put +on long skirts since the fire?" There was an unpleasant emphasis on the +last phrase, but I passed it over unnoticed. + +"Of course we have grown up," I assured him. "We're a big flourishing +city, but we are not the city. San Francisco always has been, and always +will be the city to all northern California; it was so called in the +days of forty-nine and we still cling affectionately to the term." + +"I believe you Californians have but two dates on your calendar," he +exclaimed, "for everything I mention seems to have happened either +'before the fire' or 'in the good old days of forty-nine!' 'Good old +days of forty-nine,'" he repeated, amused. "In Boston we date back to +the Revolution, and 'in Colonial times' is a common expression. We have +buildings a hundred years old, but if you have a structure that has +lasted a decade, it is a paragon and pointed out as built 'before the +fire.' Do you remember the pilgrimage we made to the historic shrines of +Boston, just a year ago?" + +"Shall I ever forget it!" I exclaimed. + +He smiled appreciatively. "Faneuil Hall and the old State House are +interesting." + +"Oh, I wasn't thinking about the buildings! I don't even recall how they +look. But I do remember the weather. I was so cold I couldn't even +speak." + +"Impossible!" he cried, "you not able to talk!" + +"But it's true! My cheeks were frozen stiff. I wore a thick dress, a +sweater, a heavy coat and my furs, and, still I was cold while all the +time I was thinking that the fruit trees and wild flowers were in +blossom in California. If it hadn't been for the symphony concerts and +the opera, I never could have endured an Eastern winter." + +"A fine compliment to me when I spent days taking you to points of +historic interest." + +I sent him an appreciative glance. "It was good of you," I acknowledged, +"and do you remember that I promised to take you on a similar pilgrimage +when you came to San Francisco?" + +He laughed. "And I was foolish enough to believe you, since I had never +been to the Pacific Coast." + +The train came to a stop in the Ferry Building and we followed the other +passengers onto the boat. "San Francisco is modern to the core," he +continued. "Boston dates back generations, but you have hardly acquired +your three score years and ten." + +"If you don't like fine progressive cities, why did you come to +California?" His fault-finding with San Francisco hurt me as if it had +been a personal criticism. + +"You know why I came," he said gently, with his eyes on my face. + +I felt the blood creeping to my cheeks and turned quickly to look for an +out-of-doors seat. In the crowd we were jostled by a little slant-eyed +man of the Orient, resplendent in baggy blue silk trousers tied neatly +at the ankles and a loose coat lined with lavender, whose flowing +sleeves half concealed his slender brown hands. + +"There's a man who has centuries at his back." My companion's eyes +traveled from the soft padded shoes to the little red button on the top +of the black skull cap. "Even his costume is the same as his +forefathers'." + +"If you are interested in the Chinese, I'll show you Oriental San +Francisco. It lies in the heart of the city and its very atmosphere is +saturated with Eastern customs. It is much more sanitary but not as +picturesque as it was before the fire." I flushed as I saw his +amusement, and quickly called his attention to the receding shores where +the encircling green hills had thrown out long banners of yellow mustard +and blue lupins. To the right was Mt. Tamalpais, a sturdy sentinel +looking out to the ocean, its summit pressed against the sky's blue +canopy and its base lost in a network of purple forests. In front of the +Golden Gate was Alcatraz Island, like a huge dismantled warship, +guarding the entrance to the bay, and before us, San Francisco rested +upon undulating hills, its tall buildings piercing the sky at irregular +intervals. We made our way to the forward deck in order to have the full +sweep of the waterfront. + +"You should see it at night!" I said, "it is a marvelous tiara. The red +and green lights on these wharves close to the water's edge are the +rubies and emeralds, while above, sweeping the hills, the lights of the +residences sparkle like rows and rows of diamonds." + +A crowd of passengers surged around us as the boat poked its nose into +the slip. "There was nothing left of this part of the city but a fringe +of wharves, after the fire." I bit the last word in two, for it was +evident the expression was getting on his nerves. I was thankful that +the clanging chains of the descending gang plank and the tramp of many +feet made further conversation impossible. + +"Hurry," he urged, "there's the Exposition car." We were in front of the +Ferry Building and the crowd was jostling us in every direction. + +"You surely are not going to the Exposition!" I exclaimed in mock +surprise. + +"Of course I am. Where else should we go?" + +"But, my dear Antiquary, those buildings are only a few months old!" + +He laughed good naturedly. "It ought to suit you Westerners, anyway," he +retaliated. Then taking my arm, "Let us hurry! Look, the car is +starting!" + +"I am going to take the one behind," I announced. "There must be +something old in San Francisco and I am going to find it." + +"You'll have a long hunt," rejoined the skeptic, and with his eyes still +on the tail of the disappearing Exposition car, he reluctantly followed +me. + +"Lots of strangers in San Francisco for the Fair," he remarked, as from +the car window he watched the big turban of a Hindoo bobbing among the +crowd on the sidewalk; then his eyes wandered to a Japanese arrayed in a +new suit of American clothes and finally rested on a bright yellow lei +wound about the hat of a swarthy Hawaiian. I smiled as I nodded to the +Japanese who had worked in my kitchen for three years, and recognized in +the dusky Hawaiian one of the regular singers in a popular cafe. + +The train had now left commercial San Francisco behind and was climbing +the hills to where the nature loving citizens had perched their houses +in order to obtain a better view of the bay. We abandoned the car and +following an upward path, finally stood on the lower shoulder of Twin +Peaks. Tired from our exertions we sank upon the soft grass. The hills +had put on their festival attire, catching up their emerald gowns with +bunches of golden poppies and veiling their shoulders in filmy scarfs of +blue lupins. The air was filled with Spring and the delicate blush of an +apple-tree told of the approach of Summer. Below, the city, noisy and +bustling a few moments ago, now lay hushed to quiet by the distance and +beyond, the sun-flecked waters of the bay stretched to a girdle of +verdant hills, up whose sides the houses of the towns were scrambling. +To the left, resting on the top of Mt. Tamalpais, could be seen the +"sleeping maiden" who for centuries had awaited the awakening kiss of +her Indian lover. + +"What a glorious play-ground for San Francisco." His voice rang with +enthusiasm. "Look at the ferryboats plowing up the bay in every +direction. A man could escape from the factory grime on the water front +and in an hour be asleep under a tree on a grassy hillside." + +"It is a splendid country to tramp through, but if a man wants to sleep, +why not spend less time and money by selecting a nearer place? There are +plenty of trees and grassy mounds in the Presidio and Golden Gate Park." + +His eyes followed mine to the green patch edging the entrance to the bay +and then ran along the tree-lined avenue to the parked section extending +almost from the center of the city to the Pacific Ocean. Suddenly he +stood up and took his field glasses from his pocket. + +"There's a granite cross just visible above the trees in Golden Gate +Park." He focused his glasses for a better view. "It's quite elaborate +in design and seems to be raised on a hill." + +He offered me the glasses but I did not need them. "It's the Prayer-Book +Cross and commemorates the first Church of England service held on this +Coast by Sir Francis Drake in 1579. I think it is a shame that we +haven't also a monument for Cabrillo, the real discoverer, who was here +nearly forty years earlier. If Sir Francis hadn't stolen a Spanish +ship's chart, he would never have found the Gulf of the Farallones. +Cabrillo sailed along the coast more than half a century before +Massachusetts Bay was discovered," I added maliciously. + +"I had forgotten the old duffer," he smiled back at me. Raising his +glasses again, he scanned the sombre roofs to the right. "There's +another monument," he volunteered, "rising out of the heart of the +city." + +I followed the direction indicated to where the outstretched arms of a +white wooden cross were silhouetted against the sky. + +"If I were in Europe," he continued, "I should call it a shrine, for the +sides of the hill on which it stands are seamed with paths running from +the net-work of houses to the foot of the cross." + +"It is a shrine at which all San Francisco worships. Wrapped in mystery +it stands, for when it was placed there no one knows. It comes to us out +of the past--a token left by the Spanish padres. Three times it has +fallen into decay, but always loving hands have reached forward to +restore it, and as long as San Francisco shall last, a cross will rise +from the summit of Lone Mountain." + +"The Spanish padres!" The ring in his voice bespoke his interest. "Are +there any other relics left?" + +I pointed to the level section below. "Do you see that low red roof +almost hidden by its towering neighbors? That is the old Mission San +Francisco de Asis, colloquially called Dolores, from the little rivulet +on whose bank it was built." + +Through his field glasses he scrutinized the expanse of substantial +houses and paved streets. "I can't find the rivulet," he announced. + +"Of course you can't, you stupid man!" I laughed. "If you'll use your +imagination instead of your glasses you will see it easily. The stream +arose, we are told, between the summits of Twin Peaks, and tumbling down +the hill-side, made its way east, emptying into the Laguna." + +"I don't see a laguna!" Again the skeptic surveyed the field of roofs. + +"Put down your glasses and close your eyes," I commanded. "When you open +them the houses from here to the bay will have disappeared and the +ground will be covered with a carpet of velvety green, dappled here and +there by groves of oak trees and relieved by patches of bright poppies." + +"And fields of yellow mustard," he supplemented. + +"No, your imagination is too vivid. The padres brought the mustard seed +later. A little south of the present mission," I continued, "you will +see a group of willows bending to drink the crystal waters of the Arroyo +de los Dolores, so named because Anza and his followers discovered it on +the day of our Mother of Sorrows, and to the east is the shining +laguna." + +"It's clear as a San Francisco fog," he laughed. "I'd like to take a +look at the old building! Is there a car line?" + +"Let's follow in the footsteps of the padres," I begged. "They used +often to climb this hill and it isn't very far." + +He looked dubiously down the rugged side and mentally measured the +distance from the base to the low tiled roof. + +"All right," he said at last, "if you'll let me take a ten minutes nap +before we start." He stretched himself at full length on the soft grass +and pulled his hat low over his eyes. + +I was glad to be quiet for a time and let my imagination have full +sweep. I seemed to see, toiling up the peninsula, a little band of +foot-sore travelers, the leathern-clad soldiers on the alert for hostile +Indians, the brown-robed friars encouraging the women and children, and +the sturdy colonists bringing up the rear with their flocks and herds. +At last the little company come to a sparkling rivulet and stoop to +drink eagerly of the cool water. The commander examines his chart and +nods to the tonsured priest who falls on his knees and raises his voice +in thanksgiving. Stretching out his arms in blessing to his flock, he +exclaims: "Rest now, my children. Our journey is at an end. Here on the +Arroyo de Nuestra Senora de los Dolores, we will establish the mission +to our Father San Francisco de Asis." + +"If we want to see the old building before lunch time, we shall have to +be moving," said a sleepy voice at my elbow. + +"Come on, then, I'll be your pathfinder," and we raced down the +hill-side until the paved streets reminded us that city manners were +expected. + +We followed the former course of the Arroyo de los Dolores down +Eighteenth to Church street, then turned north. Two, blocks further on I +laid a detaining hand on my companion's arm. + +"Hold, skeptic," I whispered, "thou art on holy ground." + +He looked up at the two-story dwelling house before us, let his eyes +wander down the row of modest residences and linger on the pavements +where a tattered newsboy was shying stones at a stray cat; then his +glance came back to my face with a smile. "My belief in your veracity is +unlimited. I uncover." He stood for an instant with bared head. "Just +when did this sanctification take place, was it before the fire or--" + +"It was on October 9th, 1776," I tried to speak impressively, "the year +the Colonies made their Declaration of Independence. The procession +began over there at the Presidio," I pointed to the north. "A +brown-robed friar carrying an image of St. Francis led the little +company of men, women and children over the shifting sand-dunes to this +very spot where a rude church had been erected. Its sides were of mud +plastered over a palisade wall of willow poles and its ceiling a leaky +roof of tule rushes but it was the beginning of a great undertaking and +Father Palou elevated the cross and blessed the site and all knelt to +render thanks to the Lord for His goodness." + +"But I thought you said the church still existed." His eyes again sought +the row of dwelling houses. + +"This was only for temporary use and later was pulled down. Six years +after the fathers arrived, a larger and more substantial church was +built one block farther east. But before you see that you must get into +the spirit of the past by imagining a square of four blocks lying +between Fifteenth and Seventeenth streets and Church and Guerrero, swept +clean of these modern structures and filled with mission buildings. At +the time when you New Englanders were pushing the Indians farther and +farther into the wilderness, killing and capturing them, we Californians +were drawing them to our missions with gifts and friendship. While you +were leaving them in ignorance we were teaching them--" + +He stooped to get a full look at my eyes. "I never knew a Spaniard to +have eyes the color of violets. Look up your family tree, my dear +enthusiast, and I think you will find that you are we." + +"I'm not," I declared indignantly. "I'm a Californian. I was born here +and even if I haven't Spanish blood in my veins, I have the spirit of +the old padres." + +"But the spirit has not left a lasting impression. Indeed civilization +whether dealt out with friendly hands or thrust upon the natives at the +point of the bayonet seems to have been equally poisonous on both sides +of the continent." + +"True, philosopher, but would you call the work of these padres +impressionless, when it has permeated all California? The open-hearted +hospitality of the Spaniards is a canonical law throughout the West, and +their exuberant spirit of festivity still remains, impelling us to +celebrate every possible event, present and commemorative." + +We had reached Dolores Street, a broad parked avenue where automobiles +rushed by one another, shrieking a warning to the pedestrian. Suddenly I +found myself alone. My companion had darted across the crowded street to +a little oasis of grass where a mission bell hung suspended on an iron +standard. + +"It marks 'El Camino Real,'" he reported as he rejoined me. + +"The King's Highway," I translated. "It must have been wonderful at this +season of the year, for as the padres traveled northward, they scattered +seeds of yellow mustard and in the spring a golden chain connected the +missions from San Francisco to San Diego. Over there nearer the bay," I +nodded toward the east where a heavy cloud of black smoke proclaimed the +manufacturing section of the city, "lay the Potrero--the pasture-land +of the padres--and the name still clings to the district. Beyond was +Mission Cove, now filled in and covered with store-houses, but formerly +a convenient landing place for the goods of Yankee skippers who, +contrary to Spanish law, surreptitiously traded with the padres." + +We turned to the massive facade of the old church, where hung the three +bells, of which Bret Harte wrote. + + "Bells of the past, whose long forgotten music + Still fills the wide expanse; + Tingeing the sober twilight of the present, + With the color of romance." + +As we entered the low arched doorway, we seemed to step from the hurry +of the twentieth century into the peace of a by-gone era. Outside, the +modern structures crowd upon the low adobe building, staring down upon +it with unsympathetic eyes and begrudging it the very land it stands on, +while inside, hand-hewn rafters, massive grey walls, and a red tiled +floor slightly depressed in places by years of service, point mutely to +the past, to the days when padres and neophytes knelt at the sound of +the Angelus. Within still stand the elaborate altars brought a century +ago from Mexico, before which Junipero Serra held mass during his last +visit to San Francisco. On the massive archway spanning the building, +can be seen the dull red scroll pattern, a relic of Indian work. + +"Sing something," my companion suggested. "It needs music to make the +spell complete." + +"It does," I assented, "but you must stay where you are," and climbing +to a balcony at the end of the building, I concealed myself in the +shadow. + +He glanced up at the first notes, then sat with bowed head. I filled the +old church with an Ave Maria, then another. As I sang, the candles +seemed to have been lighted on the gilded altars, and the brown friars +and dusky Indians took form in the dim enclosure. + +"More," he urged, but I would not, for I feared that the spell might be +broken. So he came up to see why I lingered, and found me mounted on a +ladder peering up at the old mission bells and the hand-hewn rafters +tied with ropes of plaited rawhide. + +My song must have attracted a passer-by, for a voice greeted us as we +descended. + +"Did you see the bells?" he asked eagerly. "They're a good deal like +some of us old folks, out of commission because of age and disuse, but +nevertheless they have their value. One has lost its tongue, another is +cracked and the third sags against the side wall, so they're useless as +church bells, but still they seem to speak of the days of the padres and +the Indians." + +"Were there many Indians here?" questioned the Bostonian. + +"Often more than a thousand. I was born in the shadow of this building, +in the year when the Mission was secularized, but my father knew it in +its glory and used to tell me many stories about the good old padres." + +Seeing the interest in our faces, the dark eyes brightened and he patted +the thick adobe wall affectionately. "This church was only a small part +of the Mission in those days. The buildings formed an inner quadrangle +and two sides of an outer one, all a beehive of industry. There were the +work rooms of the Indians, where blankets and cloth were woven; great +vats for trying out tallow and curing hides, and also huge storehouses +for grain and other foodstuffs, all built and cared for by the Indians." + +"Quite a change from their lazy roving life," suggested the Easterner. + +"Still the padres were not hard taskmasters," insisted the stranger. +"The work lasted only from four to six hours a day and the evenings were +devoted to games and dancing. All were required to attend religious +services, however, and at the sound of the Angelus, they gathered within +these walls. There was no sleeping through long prayers in those days," +he added with an amused smile, "for a swarthy disciple paced the aisles +and with a long pointed stick aroused the nodding ones, or quieted the +too hilarious spirits of the small boys." + +"A good example for some of our modern churches," remarked my companion, +as we followed our guide to the altar at the end of the chapel. The +light streaming through the mullioned window fell full upon the carved +figure of a tonsured monk clad in a loose robe girdled with a cord. "It +is our father, St. Francis," explained the old man. "It was in +accordance with his direct wish that this Mission was founded." + +"Yes?" questioned the skeptic. + +"When Father Junipero Serra received orders from Galvez for the +establishment of the missions in Alta California, and found that there +was none for St. Francis, he ex-claimed: 'And is the founder of our +order, St. Francis, to have no mission?' Thereupon the Visitador +replied: 'If St. Francis desires a mission, let him show us his port,' +and the Saint did!" the old face with its fringe of soft white hair was +transformed with religious enthusiasm. "He blinded the eyes of Portola +and his men so that they did not recognize Monterey and led them on to +his own undiscovered bay. And in spite of the fact that the Mission has +been stripped of its lands, we know that it is still under the special +protection of St. Francis, for it was not ten years ago that the second +miracle was performed." + +"The second miracle!" we wonderingly repeated. + +"Yes, it was at the time of the fire of 1906. The heart of San Francisco +was a raging furnace. The fireproof buildings melted under the +tremendous heat and collapsed as if they had been constructed of lead; +the devouring flames swept over the Potrero; they fell upon the brick +building next door and crept close to the walls of this old adobe, when +suddenly, as if in the presence of a sacred relic, the fire crouched and +died at its very doors." + +We passed the altar and the old man crossed himself, while in our hearts +we, too, gave thanks for the preservation of this monument of the past. + +"You must not go until you have seen the cemetery," said our guide as we +moved toward the entrance, and throwing open a door to the right he +admitted us to the neglected graveyard. Here and there a rude cross +marked the resting place of an early Indian convert and an almost +obliterated inscription on a broken headstone revealed the name of a +Spanish grandee. Shattered columns, loosened by the hand of time and +overthrown in recent years, lay upon the ground, while great willow and +pepper trees spread out protecting arms, as if to shield the silent +company from the inroads of modern enterprise. We picked our way along +vine-latticed paths, past graves over which myrtle and roses wandered in +untrimmed beauty, to where a white shaft marked the resting place of Don +Luis Argueello, comandante of the San Francisco Presidio for twenty-three +years and the first Mexican governor of California. + +"How splendidly strong he looms out of the past," I said. "His keen +insight into the needs of this western outpost and his determined +efforts for the best interests of California will forever place him in +the front rank of its rulers. I wonder if his young wife, Rafaela, is +buried here also?" I drew aside the tangled vines from the near-by +headstones. "She was always a little dearer to me than his second wife, +the proud Dona Maria Ortega, perhaps because Rafaela belonged +pre-eminently to San Francisco. Her father, Ensign Sal, was acting +comandante of the Presidio when Vancouver visited the Coast, and Rafaela +and Luis Argueello grew up together in the little adobe settlement." + +"Go on," said the skeptic, leaning comfortably against a tree trunk. +"This old Mexican governor seems to have had an interesting romance." + +"He wasn't old," I protested, "only forty-six when he died. He was a +splendid type of a young Spanish grandee, tall and lithe of form, with +the dark skin and hair of his race. He combined the freedom born of an +out-of-door life with the courtly manners inherited from generations of +Spanish ancestry. To Rafaela Sal, watching the soldiers file out of the +mud-walled Presidio, it seemed that none sat his horse so straight nor +so bravely as did Don Luis Argueello. And at night to the young soldier +dozing before the campfire in the forest, the billowy smoke seemed to +shape itself into the soft folds of a lace mantilla from which looked +out the smiling face of a lovely grey-eyed girl, framed in an exquisite +mist of copper-colored hair. + +"There was no opposition on the part of the parents to the union of +these young people. The elder Argueello loved the sweet Rafaela as if she +were his own daughter, and Ensign Sal was proud to claim the splendid +young soldier as a son-in-law. So the betrothal was solemnized, but +since Don Luis was a Spanish officer, the marriage must await the +consent of the king, and forthwith papers were dispatched to the court +of Madrid. California was an isolated province in those days and the +packet boat, touching on the shore but twice a year, frequently brought +papers from Spain dated nine months previous, so the older people +affirmed that permission could not be received for two years, while Luis +and Rafaela declared that if the king answered at once--and surely he +would recognize the importance of haste--word might be received in +eighteen months. + +"After a year and a half had passed the young people could talk of +little besides the expected arrival of the boat with an order from the +king. Frequently Luis would climb the hills back of the Presidio where +the wide expanse of the ocean could be seen. At last a sail was +discovered on the horizon and the little settlement was thrown into a +turmoil of excitement. Luis was first at the beach and impatiently +watched the ship make its way between the high bluffs that guarded the +entrance to the bay, and nose along the shore until it came to anchor in +the little cove in front of the Presidio. Had the king's permission +come? he eagerly asked his father, who was running through the papers +handed him by the captain. But the elder man shook his head, and Luis +turned with lagging steps to tell Rafaela that they must wait another +six months. It seemed a long time to the impatient lovers and yet there +was much to make the days pass quickly at the Presidio. The door of the +commodious sala at the home of the comandante always stood wide open, +and almost nightly the feet of the young people which had danced since +their babyhood tripped over the floor of the old adobe building. Picnics +were planned to the woods near the Mission and frequently longer +excursions were undertaken; for El Camino Real was not only, the king's +highway to church and military outposts, but also the royal road to +pleasure, and when a wedding or a fiesta was at the end of a journey, no +distance was counted too great. Luis watched his betrothed blossom to +fuller beauty, fearful lest someone else might steal her away before +word from the king should arrive. + +"A year passed, then another. Packet boats came and went every six +months, bringing orders to the comandante in regard to the +administration of the military forces, concerning the treatment of +foreign vessels, and of numerous other matters, but still the king +remained silent on the one subject which, to the minds of the two young +people, overshadowed all else. Luis rashly threatened to run away with +his betrothed, while Rafaela, frightened, reminded him that there was +not a priest in California or Mexico who would marry them without the +king's order. And so each time the packet boat entered the harbor their +hearts beat with renewed hope and then, disappointed, they watched it +disappear through the Gulf of the Farallones, knowing that months would +pass before another would arrive. + +"Thus six years had gone by since permission had been asked of the king; +six interminable years, they seemed to the lovers. Again the packet boat +was sighted on the distant horizon. Luis saw the full white sails sweep +past the fort guarding the entrance; he heard the salute of the guns and +watched the anchor lowered into the water before he made his way slowly +down to the shore. It would be the same answer he had received so many +times, he was, sure, and he dreaded to put the question again. Ten +minutes later he was racing over the sand-dunes to the Presidio, his +face radiant and his hand tightly clasping an official document. It had +come at last--the order from the king! Where was Rafaela? He hurried to +her house and, folding her close in his arms, be whispered that their +long waiting was at an end; that she was his as long as life should +last. + +"But, oh, such a little span of happiness was theirs! Only two brief +years, and then the cold hand of death was laid upon the sweet Rafaela." + +For a moment my companion did not move. A bird sang in the tree above us +and the wind sent a shower of pink petals over the green mound. Then, +stooping, he picked a white Castilian rose from a tangle of shrubbery +and laid it at the base of the granite shaft. "In memory of the lovely +Rafaela," he said softly; I unpinned a bunch of fragrant violets from my +jacket and placed, them beside his offering, then we silently followed +the shaded path to the white picket gate and were once more on the noisy +thoroughfare. + +"A fitting resting place for the first Mexican governor of California," +he said, glancing back at the heavy facade of the church, "so simple and +dignified. Yet if Luis Argueello had lived in New England, we should have +considered his house of equal importance with his grave and have placed +a bronze tablet on the front, but you Westerners have, so little regard +for old--" + +"If you would like to see the home of Luis Argueello, I will show it to +you. It is at the Presidio." + +"A hopeless mass of neglected ruins, I suppose. But still I should like +to see the old walls, if you can find them." + +"Shall we take the Camino Real on foot, just as the old padres used to?" + +"Not if I have my way. I'll acknowledge that the Spanish friars have +left you Californians one legacy that no Easterner can vie with, that is +your love of tramping over these hills. I've seen streets in San +Francisco so steep that teams seldom attempt them, as is evident from +the grass between the cobblestones, and yet they are lined with +dwellings." + +"Houses that are never vacant," I assured him. "We like to get off the +level, and value our residence real estate by the view it affords." + +Noticing that the sun was now high, my companion drew out his watch. +"Luncheon time," he announced. "Shall it be the Palace or St. Francis +hotel?" + +"Let's keep in the spirit of the times and go to a Spanish restaurant," +I suggested, and soon we were on a car headed for the Latin quarter. + +"May I replace the violets you left at the Mission?" he asked, as +stepping from the car at Lotta's fountain, we lingered before the gay +flower stands edging the sidewalk. + +Before I had a chance to reply a fragrant bunch was thrust into his +hands by an urchin who announced: "Two for two-bits." + +"Two-bits is twenty-five cents," I interpreted, seeing the Easterner's +mystified look. + +"I'll take three bunches." His eyes rested admiringly on the big purple +heads as he held out a dollar bill. + +"Ain't you got any real money?" asked the boy, not offering to touch the +currency. + +Again the man's hand went to his pocket and drew out some small change, +from which he selected a quarter, a dime and three one-cent pieces. The +urchin turned the coppers over in his palm, then, diving below the heap +of violets, he pulled out several California poppies. "We always give +these to Easterners," he announced as he tucked them in among the +violets. + +"I wonder how that boy knew I was an Easterner?" the Bostonian reflected +as we turned away. Then gently touching the golden petals, he asked: +"Where did you get the odd name 'eschscholtzia' for this lovely flower?" + +"It was given by the French-born poet-naturalist, Chamisso, in honor of +the German botanist, Dr. Eschscholz, who came together to San Francisco +on a Russian ship in 1816. However, I like better the Spanish names, +dormidera--the sleepy flower--or copa de oro--cup of gold," I added +as I pinned the flowers to my coat. The man's glance wandered around +Newspaper Corners, when suddenly his look of surprise told me that he +had discovered on this crowded section of commercial San Francisco a +duplicate of the old bell hung in front of the Mission San Francisco de +Asis. + +"We are following El Camino Real from the Mission to the Presidio," I +reminded him. + +We turned toward the shopping district, but the lure of the place made +our feet lag. We watched the people purchasing flowers at the corner, +and the little newsboys drinking from Lotta's fountain. + +"A tablet," he exclaimed delightedly, examining the bronze plate +fastened to the fountain. "I didn't know you Westerners ever indulged in +such things. 'Presented to San Francisco by Lotta, 1875,'" he read. + +"Little Lotta Crabtree," I explained, "the sweet singer who bewitched +the city at a time when gold was still more plentiful than flowers, and +her song was greeted by a shower of the glittering metal flung to her +feet by enthusiastic miners. But read the second tablet," I suggested. +"It was placed there with the permission of Lotta." + +"Tetrazzini!" his voice rang with surprise. + +"Can you picture this place surging with people as it was on Christmas +night five years ago, when Tetrazzini sang to San Francisco?" I asked. +"The crowd began to gather long before the appointed time--the wealthy +banker from his spacious home on Pacific Heights, the grimy laborer from +the Potrero and the little newsboy with the badge of his profession +slung over his shoulder. Flushed with excitement, the courted debutante +drew back to give her place to a tired factory girl and close to the +platform an old Italian, who had tramped all the way from Telegraph +Hill, patiently waited to hear the sweet voice of his country woman. +'Tetrazzini is here,' they said to one another; Tetrazzini, who had been +discovered and adored by the people of San Francisco when, as an unknown +singer, she appeared in the old Tivoli opera house. At last she came, +wrapped in a rose-colored opera coat, and was greeted with shouts of joy +from a quarter of a million throats. She was radiant; smiling and +dimpling she waved her handkerchief with the abandonment of a child. The +storm of applause increased, rolling up the street to the very summit of +Twin Peaks. Suddenly the soft liquid notes of a clear soprano fell upon +the air, and instantly the great multitude was wrapped in silence. Out +over the heads of the people the exquisite tones floated, mounting +upward to the stars. It was the 'Last Rose of Summer,' and as she sang +her opera coat slipped from her, leaving her bare shoulders and white +filmy gown silhouetted against the sombre background. She sang again and +again, while the vast throng seemed scarcely to breathe. Then she began +the familiar strains of 'Old Lang Syne,' and at a sign, two hundred and +fifty thousand people joined in the refrain." + +"There is not a city in all the world except San Francisco which could +have done such a thing," enthusiastically rejoined my companion, but the +next instant the eccentricities of the place struck him afresh. + +"Furs and apple blossoms!" he exclaimed, observing a woman opposite. +"What a ridiculous combination!" Then, turning, he scrutinized me from +the top of my flower-trimmed hat to the bottom of my full skirt until my +cheeks burned with embarrassment. "Why, you have on a thin summer silk, +while that woman is dressed for mid-winter!" + +"Of course," I assented. "She's on the shady side of the street." + +But still his face did not lighten. "We've been in the sun all morning," +I continued to explain. "People talk about San Francisco being an +expensive place to live in, but really it is the cheapest in the world. +If a woman has a handsome set of furs, she wears them and keeps in the +shadow, or if her new spring suit has just come home, she puts that on +and walks on the sunny side of the street, being comfortably and +appropriately, dressed in either." + +"Great heavens!" he cried, "what a city!" + +We passed through the shopping district and lingered for a moment at the +edge of Portsmouth Square. My eyes rested affectionately on the +clean-cut lawns and blossoming shrubs. Then I turned to the skeptic, but +before I could speak, he had dismissed it with a nod. + +"Too modern," he commented. "Looks as if it had been planted yesterday. +Now the Boston Common--" + +A rasping discordant sound burst from a near-by store and the Easterner +sent me a questioning glance. + +"A Chinese orchestra," I replied. "We are in Oriental San Francisco." + +"That park was doubtless made as a breathing place for this congested +Chinese quarter," he glanced back at the green square. "A good civic +improvement." + +"That park is a relic of old Spanish days and one of the most historic +spots in San Francisco," I said severely. + +He stopped short. "You don't mean--I didn't suppose there was anything +old in commercial San Francisco." + +"Portsmouth Square was once the Plaza of the little Spanish town of +Yerba Buena, and the public meeting place of the community when there +were not half a dozen houses in San Francisco." + +"Let's go back." He wheeled about abruptly and started in the direction +of the square, but I protested. + +"I am hungry and I want some luncheon!" "Then we'll return this +afternoon." There was determination in his voice. + +"We will hardly have time if we visit Luis Argueello's home at the +Presidio," I objected. + +"All right, we'll take it in tomorrow, then." + +Hastening on, we were soon in the midst of the huddled houses of the +Latin quarter. Tucked away between two larger buildings, we found a +quaint Spanish restaurant. As we opened our tamales, my companion again +referred to Portsmouth Square. + +"Tell me about it," he demanded. "Does it date with the Mission and +Presidio?" + +"No, it is of later birth, but still of equal interest in the history of +San Francisco. The city grew up from three points--the Mission"--I +pulled a poppy from my bouquet and placed it on the table to mark the +old adobe--"the Presidio"--I moved a salt cellar to the right of the +flower--"and the town of Yerba Buena," this I indicated by a pepper box +below the other two. "Roads connected these points like the sides of a +triangle and gradually the intervening spaces were filled with houses." + +"Go on." He leaned back in his chair, but I had already risen. "It will +be more interesting to hear the story on the spot tomorrow," I assured +him as I drew on my gloves. + + + +The Presidio + +The Spanish Fortifications and the Love Story of Concepcion and Rezanov + + + +The Presidio Past and Present + +We hailed a car marked "Exposition" and were soon climbing the hills to +the west. Between the houses, we had fleeting glances of the bay with +its freight of vessels. Here waved the tri-color of France, while next +to it the black, white and red flag of Germany was flung to the breeze, +and within a stone's throw, Johnny Bull had cast out his insignia. At a +little distance the ships of Austria and Russia rested side by side, and +between the vessels the bustling little ferry-boats were churning up the +blue water. + +"It is difficult to picture this bay as it was in early Spanish days," I +said, "destitute of boats and so full of otter that when the Russians +and Alaskan Aleuts began plundering these waters, they had only to lean +from the canoes and kill hundreds with their oars." + +"But what right had the Russian here? Why didn't the Spaniards stop +them? Otter must have brought a good price in those days." There was a +ring of indignation in his voice, that told his interest had been +aroused. + +"San Francisco was helpless. There was not a boat on the bay, except the +rude tule canoes of the Indians--'boats of straw'--Vancouver called +them, and these were no match for the swift darting bidarkas of the +Alaskan natives." + +"And Luis Argueello in command!" + +"I saw my idol falling, and hastened to assure him that the Comandante +had built a boat a short time before, but the result was so disastrous +that he never tried it again. The Presidio was in great need of repair +and the government at Mexico had paid no heed to the constant requests +for assistance, so Comandante Argueello had determined to take matters +into his own hands. The peninsula was destitute of large timber, but ten +miles across the bay were abundant forests, if he could but reach them. +He, therefore, secured the services of an English carpenter to construct +a boat, while his men traveled two hundred miles by land, down the +peninsula to San Jose, along the contra costa, across the straits of +Carquinez and touching at the present location of Petaluma and San +Rafael, finally arrived at the spot selected. In the meantime the +soldiers were taught to sail the craft, and the first ferryboat, at +length started across the bay. But a squall was encountered, the +land-loving men lost their heads, and it was only through Argueello's +presence of mind that the boat finally reached its destination. For the +return trip, the services of an Indian chief were secured, a native who +had been seen so often on the bay in his raft of rushes, that the +Spaniards called him 'El Marino,' the Sailor, and this name, corrupted +into Marin, still clings to the land where he lived. Many trips were +made in this ferry, but the comandante's subordinates were less +successful than he, for one, being swept out to sea, drifted about for a +day or two until a more favorable wind and tide brought him back to San +Francisco. The Spaniards called the land where the trees were felled +'Corte Madera,' the place of hewn-wood, and a little town on the site +still bears the name." + +"But what became of the boat? You said--" + +"Governor Sola was furious that any one should dare to build a boat +without his orders. He called it 'insubordination.' How did he know what +was the real purpose of the craft? Might it not have been built to aid +the Russians in securing otter or to help the 'Boston Nation' in their +nefarious smuggling?" + +My companion straightened with interest, "The Boston Nation?" + +"Yes, even in those days the Yankee skippers, who occasionally did a +little secret trading with the padres, told such marvelous stories of +Boston that the Spaniards thought it must be a nation instead of a +little town. In fact, the United States does not seem to have been +considered of much importance by Spain, for when the American ship +'Columbia' was expected to touch on this coast it was referred to as +'General Washington's vessel.'" + +"Go on with your boat story," a smile played about the corners of his +mouth. "What became of the craft?" + +"The Governor ordered it sent to Monterey and commanded Argueello to +appear before him. The Comandante was surprised to have his work thus +suddenly interrupted but hastened to obey orders. On the way his horse +stumbled and fell, injuring his rider's leg so seriously that when +Argueello reached Monterey, he was hardly able to stand. Without stopping +to have his injury dressed, he limped into the Governor's presence, +supporting himself on his sword. + +"'How dared you build a launch and repair your Presidio without my +permission?' exclaimed the exasperated Governor. + +"'Because I and my soldiers were living in hovels, and we were capable +of bettering our condition,' was the reply. + +"Governor Sola, not noted for his genial temper, raised his cane with +the evident intention of using it, when he noticed that the young +Comandante had drawn himself erect and was handling the hilt of his +naked sword. + +"'Why did you do that?' the Governor demanded. + +"'Because I was tired of my former position, and also because I do not +intend to be beaten without resistance,' Argueello answered. + +"For a moment the Governor was taken back, then he held out his hand. +'This is the bearing of a soldier and worthy of a man of honor,' he +said. 'Blows are only for cowards who deserve them.' + +"Argueello took the outstretched hand and from this time he and the +Governor were close friends. But the boat proved so useful at Monterey, +that it was never returned." + +The Jeweled Tower of the Exposition came into view. "So it is to be the +three months' old World's Fair, after all, instead of the home of the +first Mexican Governor of California?" + +But I did not rise. "The Presidio is just beyond," I explained. Then +seeing him glancing admiringly at the green domes: "Perhaps you would +rather--" + +"No," he answered me, "I'm an antiquary and I want to see the old adobe +house." + +Leaving the car at the Presidio entrance, we passed down the shaded +driveway and along the winding path that led to the old parade ground. +"This military reservation covers about the same ground as the old +Spanish Presidio," I explained. "At that time, however, it was a sweep +of tawny sand-dunes, for the Spaniards had neither the ability nor the +money to beautify the place. After it came into possession of the +Americans, lupins were scattered broadcast as a first means of +cultivation and for a time the undulating hills were veiled in blue. +Later, groves of pine and eucalyptus trees together with grass and +flowers were planted, until now it may be regarded as one of the parks +of San Francisco. This was the original plaza of the old Spanish +Presidio," I continued, as we emerged onto the quadrangle, "and it was +then lined with houses as it is today, only at that time they were crude +adobe structures. Surrounding these was a wall fourteen feet high, made +of huge upright and horizontal saplings plastered with mud, and as a +further means of protection, a wide ditch was dug on the outside. Here +Luis Argueello was Comandante for twenty-three years." + +Our eyes wandered over the substantial structures with their +well-trimmed gardens and rested on a low rambling building opposite, +protected from the gaze of the curious by an old palm and guarded by a +quaint Spanish cannon. The building's simple outlines, even at a +distance, bespoke it as of a different generation from its more +aggressive neighbors, even though its red-tiled roof had been replaced +by sombre brown shingles, and its crumbling walls replastered. We +crossed over the parade ground, and peering within, found that the +building had been converted into an officers' club house. + +"Did you see the bronze tablet on the front?" I demanded. + +"Yes," he admitted rather sheepishly, turning to examine the deep window +embrasure that showed the width of the walls. + +"There's an atmosphere of romance about the old place--" + +"And well there may be," I broke in, "for it was here that Rafaela Sal +came as a bride, and that Rezanov met Luis Argueello's beautiful sister, +Concepcion, and a love story began which may well take place with that +of Miles Standish and Priscilla." + +"Rezanov," he repeated, searching his memory. "I recall that there was a +romance connected with his visit to San Francisco but the details have +escaped me. Please sit down on this bench and tell me the story just as +if I had never heard it before." + +"More than a century ago there dwelt in this old adobe house a beautiful +maiden," I began. "Her father was Comandante of the Presidio, 'el +Santo,' the people termed him, because of his goodness. Concepcion, or +Concha, as she was affectionately called by her parents, was only +fifteen years old when our story begins--a tall, slender girl with +masses of fine black hair and the fair Castilian skin, inherited from +her mother. So lovely was she that many a caballero had already sung at +her grating, but she would listen to none of them. Her lover would come +from over the sea, she declared, someone who could tell her about the +wide outside world. + +"'Then you will die unmarried,' said her mother, kissing the soft cheek, +'for travelers seldom come as far as San Francisco.' + +"'A ship! a ship!' sounded a cry from the plaza. A vessel had been +sighted off Cantil Blanco, the first foreign ship seen since Vancouver's +visit fourteen years before. + +"'It is the Russian expedition which Spain has ordered us to treat +courteously,' exclaimed Don Luis, bursting into the house, his face +aglow with excitement. 'Since father is in Monterey and I am acting +Comandante, I must receive these strangers,' he continued as he threw +his serape over his shoulders, his eyes flashing with his first taste of +command. + +"'Be careful,' cautioned his mother, 'we have had no word from Europe +for nine months and the last packet boat from Mexico brought a rumor of +war with Russia.' + +"But the foreign vessel had come only with friendly intentions. The +Russian Chamberlain Rezanov, in charge of the Czar's northwestern +possessions, had found a starving colony at Sitka and had brought a +cargo of goods to the more productive southland with the hope of +exchanging it for foodstuffs. To be sure, he knew the Spanish law +strictly forbidding trade with foreign vessels, but it seemed the only +means of saving his famishing people and he trusted much to his skill in +diplomacy. + +"A few hours later, Concha, on the qui vive with excitement, saw her +brother approaching with a little company of men, among whom was a tall +well-built Russian officer, whose keen eyes seemed to take in every +detail of the little settlement. + +"Don Luis conducted his guests to the old adobe building, draped in pink +Castilian roses, and into the cool sala, which, although provided with +slippery horse-hair chairs and plain whitewashed walls ornamented with +pictures of the Virgin and saints, was a pleasing contrast to the ship's +cabin. Here he presented his guests to his mother, a woman whose face +still reflected much of the beauty of her youth in spite of her cares +which had come in the rearing of her thirteen children. Beside her stood +Concepcion. Her long drooping lashes swept her cheeks, but when she +raised her eyes in greeting Rezanov saw that they were dark and joyous. +He was a widower of many years, a man of forty-two, who had given little +thought to women during his wandering life, but now he found himself +keenly alive to the charms of this radiant girl. Simple and artless in +her manners, yet possessing the early maturity of her race, she set her +guests at ease and entertained them with stories of life on the great +ranchos, while her mother was busy with household duties. + +"It was ten days before Don Jose Argueello returned from Monterey and in +the meantime no business could be transacted. During these days Rezanov +saw much of Concepcion, for there was dancing every afternoon at the +home of the Comandante and frequent picnics into the neighboring woods. +It was not long before the Russian learned that Concepcion was not only +La Favorita of the Presidio, but also of all California, for although +born at San Francisco, she had spent much time in her childhood at Santa +Barbara, where her father had been Comandante. With a chain of missions +and ranchos extending from San Diego to San Francisco, there was much +interchange of hospitality, and Concha was a favorite guest at all +fiestas. So the dark eyed Spanish girl had danced her way into the heart +of many a youth as she was now doing into that of this powerful Russian. + +"Often he would stand in the shadow of the deep window casement and +watch her lithe young figure bend in the graceful borego, occasionally +catching a glance from beneath the sweeping lashes that would send his +blood surging through his veins and make him almost forget the purpose +of his voyage. Sometimes he would draw her aside to talk of his hope +that the Spaniards would furnish him bread-stuffs for his starving +colony and he marveled at her keen insight into the affairs of state, +while his heart beat the quicker for her warm sympathy. Often their talk +would wander to other things and as she occasionally flashed a smile in +his direction, showing a row of pearly teeth, his blood tingled and he +thought that the flush on her cheek was not unlike the pink Castilian +rose that was nightly tucked in the soft coils of her shadowy hair. At +times he imagined her clad in rich satin, with a rope of pearls about +her delicate throat, and as he drew the picture he saw her as a star +among the ladies of the Russian court. + +"When Don Jose Argueello returned, Rezanov asked him for the hand of his +daughter in marriage, but the Comandante indignantly refused. Although +liking the distinguished Russian for himself, he would not listen to +such--a proposal. Give his daughter to a foreigner and a heretic! +Never! It was not to be thought of for an instant. Concha must be sent +away. She must not see this Russian again! He would have her taken to +the home of his brother, who lived near the Mission, until the foreign +ship was out of the bay. While the father talked, the mother hurried to +the padres to beg the good priests to forbid such a union. + +"But Concha was no longer the docile girl of a month ago. She was a +woman and her heart was in the keeping of this sturdy Russian. She would +have him or none, and nothing the padres or her parents could say would +change her. Don Jose had never crossed his daughter before, and now as +she flung her arms about his neck and begged for her happiness he +weakened. After all, this Russian was a splendid fellow, and perhaps it +might be an advantage to Spain, rather than a detriment to have an ally +at Petrograd. In the end the pleading of Concha and the arguments of +Rezanov won. Comandante Argueello yielded and the betrothal was +solemnized, but there were many obstacles before the marriage could be +consummated. The permission of the Czar of Russia and the King of Spain +must be obtained, and this would take time, as well as involve a long +and dangerous trip. But nothing could daunt the spirits of the lovers. +Concepcion's brother, Luis, had already waited six years for permission +to marry Rafaela Sal and if Rezanov traveled with haste he could return +in two. He must go first to Petrograd to ask the consent of the Czar and +then to the Court of Madrid to promote more friendly relations between +the two countries, finally returning to claim his bride, by way of +Mexico. But before he could start on his journey, his starving Alaskan +colony must be provided for, and after considerable discussion, +arrangements were made for an interchange of commodities, and the hold +of the Russian ship, 'Juno' was packed with foodstuffs for the Sitkans, +while the ladies at the Presidio were resplendent in soft Russian +fabrics and the padres were rejoicing in new cooking utensils for their +large Indian family. + +"At length the 'Juno' weighed anchor and the white sails filled with the +afternoon breeze. As the Russians came opposite Cantil Blanco, the fort +which had scowled so menacingly upon them on their entrance forty-four +days before, now smiled with friendly faces. There was much waving of +hats and many shouts of farewell from the little group on the shore, but +Rezanov saw only the figure of a tall graceful girl with the soft folds +of a mantilla billowing about her head and shoulders and heard only the +murmur of love from the rosy lips. 'Two years,' he whispered back to +her, as the ship passed out through the Gulf of the Farallones and +became but a speck on the sunset sky. + +"The two years passed and still there was no sign of the returning +vessel. Luis Argueello had been married to the lovely Rafaela and a +little son had come to bless their household, and yet Concepcion looked +out over the ocean watching for the white sail of a foreign ship. The +sweet grey eyes of Luis' young wife were closed in death and Concha's +heart and hands went out in sympathetic love and deeds to the stricken +family, all the while trying to still in her own breast the fear that a +like fate had overtaken her loved one. The verdant hills were again +streaked with golden poppies and once more turned to tawny brown and +still no ship nor word came from over the sea. + +"It was eight or ten years before even a rumor of the fate of her lover +reached Concepcion, and not until she met the Englishman, Sir George +Simpson, twenty-five years after Rezanov sailed out of San Francisco +bay, did she learn the details of his death. It was almost winter when, +leaving Alaska, he crossed the ocean and began his perilous trip through +Siberia. Frequently drenched to the skin and undergoing terrible +privations, he traveled for thousands of miles on horseback, now lying +at some wayside inn burning with fever and again pushing on until he +dropped prostrate at the next village. A fall from his horse added to +his already serious condition, which resulted in his death in the little +village of Krasnoiark, and he lies now buried beneath the snows of +Siberia. + +"Although many sought her hand in marriage, Concepcion remained faithful +to her Russian lover. There being no convent for women in the country at +that time, she donned the grey habit of the 'Third Order of St. Francis +in the world,' devoting her life to the care of the sick and the +teaching of the poor. Later when a Dominican convent was established," I +added, rising, "she became not only its first nun, but also its Mother +Superior." + +"A romance that may well take a place with such world-famed love stories +as those of Abelard and Heloise; and Alexandre and Thaeis. I should like +to make a pilgrimage to her grave," he added as we left the old adobe +house. + +"You can," I replied. "It's tucked away in a corner of the Benicia +Cemetery, marked by a marble slab carved with her name and a simple +cross." + +We entered a grove of eucalyptus trees, which now and again divided, +giving marvelous views of the bay and the Marin shore. + +But my companion's mind still dwelt on the story he had heard. "So +Concepcion suffered in the uncertainty of hope and despair for ten +years," he said, "but ten months of it brought me to the limit of +endurance. Do you think if Rezanov had returned and Concepcion had +married him and gone to Petrograd she would have been happy?" + +"Of course she would." + +"Still Petrograd is a cold, dreary place compared to California." + +"But what difference would that make? A woman would give up everything +and count it no sacrifice for the man she loved." + +"And you said only yesterday--" + +"Oh, but that was different," I assured him, my cheeks burning under his +gaze. "Rezanov loved California. He thought it so wonderful that he +wanted it for a Russian province, and he would have brought Concepcion +back to visit--" + +"Boston is nearer than Petrograd and not so cold. Don't you think you +could teach me to love California, too?" + +"Perhaps," I acknowledged. Then anxious to turn the conversation, I +asked: "Would you like to see the location of the old Spanish fort?" He +nodded and we took the road leading to the present Fort Point. "I can't +show you the exact location," I confessed, "because the United States +cut down the bold promontory, Cantil Blanco, in order to place the +present fortification close to the water's edge, but if you will use +your imagination and picture a white cliff towering a hundred feet above +the water at the point where Fort Winfield Scott now stands, you will +see the entrance to the bay as it was in Spanish days. Here was located +the old fort, called Castilla San Joaquin, which guarded the harbor for +many years. Made of adobe in the shape of a horseshoe, so perishable +that the walls crumbled every time a shot was fired, still it answered +its purpose, as it was never needed for anything but friendly salutes, +and even these were at times, perforce, omitted. The Russian, Kotzebue, +states that when he entered the harbor he was impressed by the old fort +and the soldiers drawn up in military array, but wondered that no return +was made to his salute. A little later, however, the omission of the +courtesy was explained when a Spanish officer boarded the vessel and +asked to borrow sufficient powder for this purpose. Moreover, Robinson +tells us that frequently during the afternoon's siesta a foreign ship +would pass the fort, drop anchor in Yerba Buena Cove, and spend several +days in the bay before the Presidio officers would know of its presence. +But this was after the time of Luis Argueello." + +One by one the palaces of light in the Exposition grounds below us burst +into radiance. The Horticultural dome turned to a wonderful iridescent +bubble and the Tower of Jewels caught and reflected the light that +played upon it. Wide bands of color streaked the sombre sky, +transforming the clouds to shades of violet, yellow and rose. "The +rainbow colors of promise," he said gently as he drew closer. "I shall +take them as a message of hope that I shall win the love of the woman +who is dearer to me than all else in life!" + + + +The Plaza + +A Chinese Restaurant. Yerba Buena and the Reminiscences of a Forty-Niner + + + +The Plaza and its Echoes + +"Be careful," I warned, "you'll get your feet wet." + +We stood on the corner of Montgomery and Commercial Streets, having +carried out our resolution of the day previous to continue our search +for old landmarks. The Bostonian moved uncomfortably under the warmth of +the noonday sun, and glanced down at the dry, glaring pavement; then he +stooped to turn up his trousers. + +"All right," he announced, "is it an arroyo or has the hose used in +putting out 'the fire' suddenly burst?" + +"Neither. The arroyo was a block further south. It ran down what is now +Sacramento Street, and you ought to know enough about the fire to +realize that we couldn't use our fire hose, because the earthquake broke +the water mains." + +"Then there was an earthquake!" He shot an amused glance at me. "You're +the first Californian I've heard acknowledge it." + +"Oh yes, there was an earthquake--but it didn't do much damage," I +hastened to add. "Just 'knocked down a few chimneys and rickety +buildings that the city was going to pull down anyway. It was the fire +that destroyed the city." + +"So Mother Nature was just favoring 'Frisco by lending a helping hand to +the city officials," he laughed. "Well, you see I'm prepared for the +deluge." He indicated his upturned trousers. "But if it isn't an arroyo--" + +"It's the bay," I explained. "It used to touch the shore about where we +are standing, forming a little inlet called Yerba Buena Cove." + +"But," objected the man, mentally measuring the distance down the +straight paved street to where the slender shaft-like tower of the Ferry +Building broke the sky line, "it must be seven blocks from here to the +present waterfront, two thousand feet at least." + +"Yes, fully that," I agreed. "A large part of the business section of +San Francisco stands on made-land. The water along the shore, here at +Montgomery street, was very shallow, and at the time of the gold rush, +when seven or eight hundred vessels were waiting in the bay to discharge +their freight and passengers, a corporation of energetic Americans built +a long wharf from here to the deep water, where the ships were anchored. +Look down Commercial Street to the Ferry Building and, instead of the +houses on either side, imagine it open to the water. Then you will see +Central Wharf as it was in 'forty-nine.'" + +"Central Wharf!" The name had caught his interest. + +"Yes, it was called that from the one you have in Bost." + +"Bost?" he repeated, mystified. "Bost?" + +"Yes, Bost!" I answered. "You called our, city 'Frisco, not five minutes +ago, so why shouldn't I--" + +"I beg your pardon," he said humbly. "I will never offend in that way +again." + +"But the building of the wharves and the filling in of the waterfront +belong to a later time and we are back in Spanish days. When Vancouver +landed he tells us that he cast anchor within a small inlet surrounded +by green hills, on which herds and cattle were grazing. Historians say +that his ship lay about where the Ferry Building now stands and that the +crew put off for the shore in small boats. This place was a waste of +sand-dunes and chaparral but the Englishmen were refreshed by the cool +waters of the arroyo and spent a pleasant morning shooting quail and +grouse." + +"Quail, grouse and chaparral," he repeated, as his eyes traveled up and +down the solidly built blocks and rested on the pedestrians hurrying in +and out of the buildings. "Let's take a look at the bed of the arroyo." + +We paused at the corner and for a moment watched the car laboriously +climb the Sacramento Street hill and disappear over the crest; then we +turned for another look at the mass of buildings now resting on the +solid ground which had taken the place of the shining waters of Yerba +Buena Cove. + +"It was about here," I announced, "that the arroyo opened out into the +Laguna Dulce, a little fresh water pool where Richardson's Indians +delighted to take a cold plunge on leaving their steaming temescal." + +"Richardson? Hardly a Spanish name!" + +"No, but a Spaniard by naturalization and marriage. He was an Englishman +who had come to the coast in the whaler 'Orion,' and being fascinated by +the country and the carefree Spanish life, had married a lovely little +senorita, the daughter of Lieutenant Martinez, later Comandante of the +Presidio. Richardson settled on a ranch at Sausalito and in 1835, when +Governor Figueroa decided to establish a commercial city on the shore of +Yerba Buena Cove, he appointed as harbor master, this Englishman, who +was already carrying on a small business with the Yankee skippers, and +the future town was made a port of entry for all vessels trading up and +down the coast. Richardson built the first house in the little +settlement of Yerba Buena, afterwards San Francisco." + +"Since this is an historic pilgrimage, we must take a look at the spot +where the first house stood. Is it far?" + +"Only a few blocks," I assured him. "But we shall have to venture into +the heart of Chinatown." + +We made our way up Sacramento Street, where the straight-lined grey +business blocks gave way to fantastic pagoda-like buildings gaily +decorated in green, red, and yellow. Bits of carved ivory, rich lacquer +ware and choice pieces of satsuma and cloisonne appeared in the windows. +In quiet, padded shoes, the sallow-faced, almond-eyed throng shuffled +by, us; here a man with a delicate lavender lining showing below his +blue coat, there a slant-eyed woman with her sleek black hair rolled +over a brilliant jade ornament, leading by the hand a little boy who +looked as if he had stepped out of a picture book with his yellow +trousers and pink coat. + +We turned to the right at Grant Avenue, passing a building conspicuous +on account of its elaborately carved balconies hung with yellow lanterns +and ornamented with plants growing in large blue and white china pots. +The Bostonian looked curiously at the Orientals lounging about the door, +then his face brightened as he read the words, "Chop Suey." + +"It's a Chinese restaurant," he exclaimed delightedly. "Let's go in for +a cup of tea, as soon as we have taken a look at your historic +landmarks." + +On the northwest corner of Grant Avenue and Clay Street, we paused +before a dingy four-story brick building on whose sides were pasted long +strips of red paper ornamented with quaint Chinese characters. I +secretly wished that the building had been designed as a gay pagoda with +bright colored, turned-up eaves like many of those in Chinatown and that +its windows had displayed the choice embroideries and carved ivories of +some of its neighbors, but as we peered through the glass, we saw only +utilitarian articles for the coolie Chinaman. + +"Rather a sordid setting for my story," I bemoaned. "The first house in +commercial San Francisco stood here. It was only a sail stretched around +four pine posts, but two years later was replaced by a picturesque, +red-tiled adobe, so commodious that the Spaniards called it the Casa +Grande. I am afraid the building now occupying the spot where the second +house stood will be equally disappointing," I said ruefully, as we +recrossed the street to where a Chinese butcher and vegetable vender was +displaying his wares. We gazed curiously at the dangling pieces of dried +fish, strings of sausage-like meat, unfamiliar vegetables, lichee nuts +and sticks of green sugar cane. + +"Somewhat different from the silks, satins and laces displayed on this +spot by Jacob Leese in Spanish days," I reflected. "He was a Bostonian, +who like Richardson had become an adopted son of California and settled +at Yerba Buena for the purpose of trading with the American vessels." + +"This must have been a lively business center." The man raised his voice +above the rumble of the wagons and cars. "Two little houses in the midst +of a sea of sand-dunes and no settlement nearer than the Mission." + +"Oh, it didn't take the American long to make things hum," I assured +him. "He arrived here on July second. Two days later he had built a +house and was entertaining all the Spaniards from miles around, at a +grand Fourth of July celebration." + +"Quick work even for a Yankee," laughed my companion. "But rather hard +on his English neighbor, I should think. Did Richardson attend?" + +"Of course he did! Delivered the invitations, too! Leese was busy +building his house, so the Englishman, in his little launch, called at +all the ranchos and settlements about the bay and invited the Spaniards +to come to Yerba Buena for a Fourth of July fandango." + +We retraced our steps and a few doors beyond entered the gay, balconied +restaurant, in quest of a cup of tea served in Oriental style. Climbing +the steep stairs, we passed the first floor where laborers were being +served with steaming bowls of rice; then mounted to the more +aristocratic level where we were seated at elaborately carved teakwood +tables, inlaid with mother-of-pearl. While waiting for our tea, we +stepped onto the balcony which we had regarded with so much interest +from the street. Above us hung the gorgeous lanterns, swaying like +bright bubbles in the breeze, and below moved the silent blue-coated +throng. + +"So there was a Fourth of July celebration here even in Spanish times?" +said the man. "Somewhat prophetic of the American days to come, wasn't +it?" + +We caught a glint of color in the street and leaned far over the balcony +to watch a violet-coated Chinese girl thread her way among the sombre +crowd. + +"It must have been just below us that the early festivities were held," +I suggested. "Leese's house was not large enough to accommodate his +guests, so a big marquee surmounted by Mexican and American flags, and +gaily decorated with bunting, was spread about where the street now +runs. Can't you picture it all? The dainty little senoritas in their +silk and satin gowns, with filmy mantillas thrown over their heads and +shoulders, and the men not less gorgeous in lace-trimmed velvet suits +and elaborate serapes. I can almost hear the applause and the booming of +the cannon that followed General Vallejo's glowing tribute to +Washington, and see the graceful Spanish dancers as they assembled for +the evening ball. It was doubtless at this time that Leese met General +Vallejo's fascinating sister, whom he married after a short and +business-like courtship." + +"Short, and she a Californian?" He sent me an amused glance. + +"Perhaps Leese thought delay dangerous," I suggested, "for Senorita +Maria Rosalia was one of the belles of the new military outpost at +Sonoma and more than one gaily clad caballero was suing for her hand." + +"No wonder the American pushed the matter," laughed my companion. "Did +many Boston men marry Spanish Senoritas?" + +"Nearly all who came to the Coast," I answered. "The California women +were among the most fascinating in the world and held a peculiar charm +for these sturdy New Englanders." + +"I can understand that," he said, bending for a better look at my face. +"But what could the dainty senoritas see in these crude; raw-boned +Yankees?" + +"Just what any woman would see," I declared. "Men of sterling character, +working against terrible odds, with that courage which does not know the +word failure. They saw men of perseverance, energy and brains who were +bringing into the country the indomitable spirit of New England." + +"I am glad you have a good word for the early Yankees," he said, "and I +wish your enthusiasm extended to a later generation." + +He turned toward me and I felt the telltale color sweep my cheeks as I +became conscious that I was thinking less of Leese and his compatriots +than of the Bostonian at my side. + +"It wasn't the New England spirit," he declared, "that gave these early +settlers the strength and determination to succeed. It was the women who +had faith in them. A man can accomplish anything if the woman he loves-- +" My companion had moved close to my side, and his voice was low as he +bent over me. "Little girl," he began, "last year in Boston when you +came into my life--" + +The harsh jangle of a Chinese orchestra broke the dull murmur of the +street and in an instant the little balcony was crowded with gazers +eager to catch a glimpse of the musicians through the windows opposite. + +My companion and I moved aside for the new corners and turned again +toward the interior. Through the open door we could see the waiter +placing steaming cups of tea upon the table we had deserted, and +re-entering the room, we seated ourselves in the big carved arm-chairs. +Sipping the delicious beverage, we glanced toward the other tables, +where groups of Chinamen were talking in a curious jargon and +dexterously handling the thin ebony chop-sticks. On the wide +matting-covered couches extending along the sidewalls, lounged +sallow-faced Orientals, while in and out among the diners noiselessly +moved the waiters, balancing on their heads, large brown straw trays. +Snowy rice cakes, shreds of candied cocoanut, preserved ginger and brown +paper-shell nuts with the usual Chinese eating utensils were placed +before us. We tried the slender chop-sticks with laughable failure and +then, declaring that fingers were made first, we had no further trouble. +We took a farewell look at the gilt carved screens and long banners, +which in quaint Chinese characters wished us health and happiness. Then +following our smiling attendant to the door, we were bowed down the +stairway. A Chinaman leaned over the railing and called the amount of +our bill to the attendant on the second floor, who like an echo took it +up and sent it on to the main entrance, where we settled our account. + +Again on the sidewalk, we mingled with the Oriental throng whose +expressionless yellow faces gave no hint of joy or sorrow. At the corner +we turned east and made our way toward Portsmouth Square. I paused and +let my eyes run over my companion, from his emaculate linen collar to +his well-polished shoes. + +"You'll look sadly out of place here," I warned. "No artist would ever +take such a well-groomed person for a model, nor would you be suspected +of belonging to the great army of the unemployed." + +"Are they the only classes allowed? Then I speak now for the purchasing +right of your portrait." + +"Oh, I'll pose very well as the 'Amelican' teacher of those little +Chinese butterflies fluttering after that kite. Aren't they attractive +in their lavender, pink, and blue sahms?" I said, as we seated ourselves +on the bench. + +"To be honest, to be kind, to earn a little, to spend a little less,'" +he read from the face of the fountain standing against a clump of trees +whose soft foliage drooped caressingly over it. "Why, that's from +Stevenson's Christmas sermon. Look at that unappreciative brute! He +drank without reading a word!" exclaimed the man indignantly. + +"Yes, but he feels the better for coming here. He received the +refreshment most needed and that is what Stevenson would have wished. +Some other may need and will receive the spiritual help." + +"Why is it here?" he asked. + +"Because Stevenson loved this place and came often to sit on the benches +and study the wrecked and drifting lives of the men who lounged in the +square." + +"And the gilded ship on top with its full blown sails--that must +suggest his Treasure Island, doesn't it?" + +"Yes, and also the Manila Galleon, that splendid treasure-ship ladened +with silk, wax and spices from the Philippines and China, which once +each year made its landfall near Cape Mendocino and followed the line of +the coast down to Mexico." + +He leaned with arm outstretched along the back of the bench and surveyed +the park. + +"This, you said, was the old Spanish Plaza. What was here then?" + +"At first just a sweep of tawny sand-dunes, surrounded by scrub oak and +chaparral." I dropped my eyes to the gravel walk, that I might shut out +the emerald green lawns, and flowering shrubs. "Over the shifting +hillocks wandered a little minty vine bearing a delicate white and +lavender flower not unlike your trailing arbutus. It was from the +medicinal qualities of this plant that the little settlement was named +Yerba Buena, the good herb. Over there on the northwest corner where +that dingy Chinese restaurant now floats the flag of Chop Suey stood the +old adobe Custom House, the first building erected on the Plaza, and it +was in front of this that the Stars and Stripes were run up when General +Montgomery, who had arrived in the sloop-of-war Portsmouth, took +possession in the name of the United States." + +"So that is where the square got its name--from the ship 'Portsmouth?'" +His voice rang with the joy of discovery. + +"Yes, but the new name never completely replaced the old. We love the +terms which come to us from Spanish days, and so, to many of us, this is +still the Plaza." + +"I presume there was a great outcry when Montgomery pulled down the +Mexican flag and ran up the American. But I understand the country was +helpless." + +"Yes, it was poorly fortified, and the Californians had known for some +time that Mexico was losing its hold, so the event was not unexpected. +But there was no flag to pull down for the receiver of customs, +realizing that resistance was useless, had packed the Mexican flag in a +trunk with his official papers for safe keeping, so without opposition +General Montgomery marched with seventy men accompanied by fife and drum +from the waterfront to the Plaza, and raised the Stars and Stripes on +the vacant flag pole. Thus the country came into the possession of the +Americans and our historic pilgrimage is at an end," I concluded, +rising. + +But my companion seemed loath to leave the place. We sauntered by +dark-eyed Italian girls lolling on the benches, shaggy bearded old +sailors, whose scarred faces told of fierce battles with the elements, +and stopped to examine the plaster casts presented for our inspection by +a weary-eyed street vender. At a distance, a laughing gypsy girl in a +white waist and much beruffled red plaid skirt was enticing the crowd to +cross her hand with silver that she might tell their fortunes. + +"What need have we for gypsies?" he demanded pulling me down on a bench. +"I'll, read your palm." + +"Can you tell fortunes?" I questioned as I drew off my glove. + +"I can tell yours," he declared straightening out my fingers in his big +strong hand, and examining the lines. + +"He's a tall dark man, wearing glasses--" + +Instinctively I looked up into the uncovered brown eyes, then dropped +mine in confusion as I met his laughing gaze. + +"Only when he reads," added the Bostonian, holding on to my fingers, as +I tried to withdraw my hand. + +An angry voice broke the silence and we sprang to our feet to see an old +man shaking his fist in the face of a young Irish policeman. + +"You let me alone!" he shouted. "You let me alone!" + +For a moment the officer hesitated. Then he seized the old man by the +collar. "Come along quietly! There ain't no use making a howl. There's a +vagrancy law in this city and I'll show you it ain't to be sniffed at. +I've been watching you ever since I've been on this beat and you ain't +done nothing but sit around this Plaza." + +"And ain't I a right to sit 'round this Plaza?" The man pulled himself +free and again defied the officer of the law with a clenched fist. +"Didn't I help make it? When you were playing with a rattle in your crib +over in Dublin, I was a-stringing up a man to the eaves of the old +Custom House over there on the corner. And now you try to arrest me--me +a Vigilante of '51--" His fury choked him, and with a quick turn of the +hand, the officer again had him by the collar. But the old man wrenched +himself loose. + +"You keep your hands off me." He raised his angry voice in warning. Then +drawing a bundle of papers from his pocket he thrust them into the +officer's face. "Look at that--and that--and that--biggest business +blocks in San Francisco. If I choose to wear a loose shirt and sit +'round the Plaza it isn't any business of yours. In the good old days of +forty-nine--" + +I touched the Bostonian on the arm. "Let's go to the Exposition," I +suggested. "We've seen everything here." + +"There's no need to hurry! We've all the afternoon before us." He edged +a little closer to the old man, about whom a crowd was gathering. + +"In the good old days of forty-nine," rang out again and I glanced +nervously at my companion. "We didn't have any dipper-dapper policemen +making mistakes." He snapped his fingers in the officer's face. "We had +good red-shirted miners who knew their business." + +The policeman moved uneasily and handed back the papers. "I guess +they're all right," he acknowledged. "The law doesn't seem to touch +you." + +"Touch me! Well, I guess not!" The officer moved off and the old man +returned to his bench. Before I realized my companion's intention, we +were seated beside the miner. He was still muttering maledictions on the +head of the Irish policeman. + +"The scoundrel!" He dug his stick into the gravel path. "Had the nerve +to arrest me! Me, who strung up Jenkins in the first Vigilante +Committee, and Casey and Cora in the second." + +"You must have come here in early days," remarked the Bostonian. + +"Early days," echoed the miner, "well, I guess I did. I'm a +forty-niner." He straightened himself proudly and looked to see the +effect of his words. + +"I think we had better go." Again I touched the Antiquary's arm but he +gave no heed to my signal. + +"There must have been some stirring times here in the days of the gold +rush." + +"You bet there were," agreed the forty-niner, "and the entire history of +San Francisco was made around this Plaza. Here were built the first +hotel, the first school-house, the first bank; within a stone's throw +the first Protestant sermon was preached, the first newspaper was +printed and the first post office was opened. It was through the Plaza +that Sam Brannan ran with a bottle of yellow dust in one hand, waving +his hat with the other and shouting, 'Gold! gold! from the American +River!' It was here that the big gambling houses sprang up, where +fortunes were made and lost in a night, and here the first Vigilance +Committee met and executed justice." The old man paused for breath. + +I was on the edge of the bench ready for flight. All my good work of the +last two days was rapidly being undermined. I heard again the skeptic's +contemptuous tone of yesterday. "It's either before the fire" or "in the +good old days of forty-nine." + +"We--we must go," I stammered, "it's getting very late." The Bostonian +looked at his watch. "Not three o'clock yet." He leaned back +comfortably. "You ought to be interested in this. Your grandfather was a +forty-niner." + +I looked at him searchingly. I ought to be interested! I, who cherished +every memory of pioneer days! I, who had bitten my lips a dozen times +that afternoon, and was glorying in the tact and strength of mind which +had avoided this period of our history! + +The miner, apparently aware of my presence for the first time, sent me a +piercing glance from beneath his shaggy eyebrows. "So your grandfather--" + +"He wasn't exactly a forty-niner," I acknowledged. "He arrived outside +the Heads the night of December thirty-first but there was a heavy fog +and the vessel didn't get inside until the next morning." + +"Hard luck," sympathized the old man, "coming near to being a +forty-niner and missing it." + +"But it's practically the same thing," persisted the Bostonian. "Only a +few hours." + +"The same thing!" scornfully repeated the miner. "There's as much +difference as between Christmas and Fourth of July. A forty-niner's a +forty-niner, and a man that came in fifty--well, he might as well have +come in sixty or seventy, or even in the twentieth century. It's the +forty-niner that counts in this community." He drew himself up proudly. +Then plunging his hand deep into his pocket, drew out a nugget. + +"Picked that up off my first claim," he explained, "but the dirt didn't +pan out so well. I've carried it in my pocket all these years, just for +the sentiment of the thing, I suppose. Many a time I was tempted to +throw it on a table in the El Dorado, but I hung on to it." + +"The El Dorado?" questioned the Easterner. + +"Yes, one of the big gambling places here on the Plaza. Everybody took a +chance in those days, even some of the preachers. You met all your +friends there, and heard the best music and the latest news." + +"Did they gamble with nuggets?" my companion led the old man on. + +"Well, I guess they did! and gold dust in piles. The few children in +town used to pan out the dirt of the Plaza in front of the Temples of +Chance every morning after the places were swept out. The Californians +put up parts of their ranchos, too, sometimes." + +"How high did the stakes run?" Evidently this descendant of the Pilgrims +had not lost all the sporting blood of his earlier English ancestors. + +"Often as high as five hundred or a thousand dollars. The largest stake +I ever saw change hands was forty-five thousand. Many a miner went back +to the placers in the spring without a dollar in his pockets. But +everybody was doing it and you could almost count the nationalities in +the crowd around the table by the kinds of coins in the stacks. There +were French francs, English crowns, East Indian rupees, Spanish pesos +and United States dollars. The dress was as different as the money. We +miners wore red and blue shirts, slouch hats and wide belts to carry our +dust. The Californians were gorgeous in coats trimmed in gold lace, +short pantaloons and high deer-skin boots, and the Chinese ran a close +second in their colored brocaded silks. You knew the professional +gamblers by their long black coats and white linen--real gentlemen, many +of 'em and the most honest in the country. + +"Ever see a picture of the Plaza in forty-nine," he asked abruptly. + +"Never." + +The miner drew a square on the gravel path with his stick. "The El +Dorado was here, the Veranda here and the Bella Union here," he said, +punching holes on the three corners of Kearny and Washington. "They were +the finest and they had the best locations in town. The El Dorado paid +forty thousand dollars a year for a tent and twenty-five thousand a +month for a building on the same site later." The end of his stick +deepened the hole on the southeast corner. + +My eyes wandered from the plan to the real location. "Why, there is the +name 'Veranda' over there now," I exclaimed as the black letters on a +white awning caught my eye. + +"Yes, it is pretty near the old site, but it's a poor substitute for its +predecessor," he added scornfully. "There was great style in those days +--fine bars, lots of glass and mirrors and pictures worth thousands of +dollars. The doors were always open from eleven in the morning 'til +daylight the next morning, and a steady stream of people were pouring in +and out all the time. Everybody was there. There weren't no special +inducement to stay home nights, when your residence was a bunk on the +wall of a shanty and the fellers over you and under you and across the +room weren't even acquaintances. I got a pretty good room after awhile +in the Parker House"--he drew a small oblong south of the El Dorado-- +"for a hundred dollars a week, but I didn't stay long." + +"I should think not--at that price." + +"Oh, it wasn't the price. One of my friends paid two hundred and fifty. +But you see it got pretty warm at the Parker House, that Christmas eve, +and so we all moved. They cleared away the hot ashes of the hotel and +built the Jenny Lind Theatre on the spot. That was the first big fire. +We had them right along after that, every few weeks. Six big ones in +eighteen months, with lots' of little ones in between." + +"Then the last fire wasn't a new experience for you," the Bostonian +suggested. + +"Lord, no! Rebuilding was a habit with us early San Franciscans. We +didn't begin to feel sorry for a man 'til he'd lost everything he owned +three times. The Jenny Lind Theatre went down six times and the seventh +building was sold for the City Hall. It stood right there"--he pointed +to the handsome new Hall of Justice--"until it went up in the last +fire." + +"You are sure it wasn't the earthquake that finished it?" inquired the +skeptic. + +"Certainly not," I flared. "The Relief Committee met there that morning +to lay their plans while the fires were raging south of Market Street." + +He acknowledged defeat by changing the subject. "Was the old Spanish +Custom House here?" he asked, pointing to the western side of the +diagram. + +"Yes," assented the miner, and he traced an oblong on the northern end, +"and just behind it, on Washington Street, was Sam Brannan's house. He +was the Mormon leader, you know, and brought a shipload of his followers +to establish a settlement in forty-six. He published our first +newspaper, the 'California Star,' in his house." + +"Was it where that little green Chinese building with the bracketed +columns and turned-up eaves is?" I interposed. + +"The telephone exchange, you mean? Exact spot. They used to ring a hand +bell in the Plaza on Sunday mornings to call the Mormons to hear Brannan +preach in the Casa Grande." + +"Richardson's house!" My companion sent me an appreciative glance. + +"Sure, but that was before most of 'em, including Sam, went back on +their faith. Next to the Custom House on the south," he continued, "was +the Public Institute. It wasn't much to look at--just pine boards--but +it was considerable useful. They held the Public School there and had +preaching on Sundays 'til the teacher, the preacher and all the audience +went off to the mines. They tried the Hounds there, too." + +"The Hounds?" my friend looked dazed. + +"Yes, the Sidney Coves that lived in Sidneyville, along there on Kearny +near Pacific." Light had failed to dawn. + +"Here on the corner of Kearny," continued the Forty-niner, "was an old +adobe building with a red-tiled roof and a veranda around it." + +"The City Hotel!" I exclaimed delightedly. + +"How did you know?" He eyed me curiously. + +"My grandfather was a near-forty-niner," I reminded him. + +"Oh yes. Too bad! Too bad!" he added sympathetically. "It was the house +and store of a fellow named Leidesdorff," he continued, "who did a lot +of trading with the Yankee skippers in Mexican days, and it was turned +into a hotel in the gold rush. It was always the swell place for +blowouts. They had a big banquet and ball there for Governor Stockton, +I'm told, after the procession and speeches in the Plaza, and another +the next year for Governor Kearny; the first Relief Committee met here, +called by Brannan, Howard and Vallejo, to send rescuers to the Sierras +for the survivors of the Donner Party. There wasn't much of any +importance in the way of gathering that didn't happen there." + +We instinctively looked across at the square, three-story, pressed-brick +home of the Chinese Consulate and bank. + +"Every big fire took at least one side of the Plaza, and the sixth, in +June of fifty-one, wiped out the whole square. That adobe was the last +link between the Spanish village of Yerba Buena and its American +successor, San Francisco," he regretted, "but it was a good thing for +the city, for they began to build with stone and brick after that. Did +you see the Parrott Building, as you came along, on California and +Montgomery?" he asked. + +The Easterner turned to me. "You didn't show me that," he said, +reprovingly. + +"No, why should I? It wasn't built until fifty-two." + +He ignored my insinuation and turned back to his informer. "What about +the Parrott Building? It sounds like an aviary." + +"Not exactly," he smiled. "It was made of granite blocks, cut and +dressed and marked in China and then shipped over and set up by the +'China Boys,' as the Orientals here called themselves." + +"It's a curious coincidence," I ventured, "that the Hong Kong Bank now +occupies the lower floor. What a freak of the winds it was that swept +the big fire around that and the Montgomery block, and left them both +for posterity!" + +"Your fire seemed to have had a special veneration for historic +structures," the Easterner commented. "It respected the Mission in like +manner." + +"Yes, somewhat," returned the miner, "but it might have had a little +more respect and spared the Tehama House and the What Cheer House. I +hated to see them go." + +"And the Niantic Hotel and Fort Gunnybags," I added. + +"Here! Here! I rise for a point of information," cried the alien. "Did +the cheer inebriate and what is the technical difference between +gunny-sacks and carpet bags?" + +"Oh, that was our Vigilance Headquarters of fifty-six, where we hung +Casey and Cora," elucidated the Forty-niner. + +"Help," gasped the Bostonian, sinking upon the bench. + +"Tell him," I nodded to the miner. + +"The Tehama House, on the waterfront at California and Sansome, was the +swell hotel for army and navy people and all the Spanish rancheros when +they came to town. You couldn't keep even your thoughts to yourself in +that house, for it had thin board sidings and cloth and paper +partitions, but it had lots of style, and Rafael set a great table. They +moved it over to Montgomery and Broadway to make room for the Bank of +California, and the fire caught it there. The What Cheer House," the old +man's eyes brightened, "was on Sacramento and Leidesdorff, and that's +where we miners went, if we could get in. Woodward was a queer chap. +Took you in whether you could pay or not. But it was only a man's hotel. +There wasn't a woman allowed about the place. He had the only library in +town and everybody was welcome to use it. I've often seen Mark Twain and +Bret Harte reading at the table." + +"And the sacks?" queried the Bostonian. + +But the old man had leaned back on the bench and his eyes wandered over +the green grass and trees of the square. "It's much prettier than it +used to be," he admitted, "but nothing happens here now. The Chinese +children fly kites and the unemployed loaf on the benches and the grass, +and I'm one of them. I wish you could have seen it in the early days." +His eyes kindled with excitement. "It was only a barren hillside, but +there was always something doing then. All the town meetings were held +here in the open air and all the parades ended here for the speeches. +The biggest celebration was in 1850, when the October steamer, flying +all her flags, brought the news that California was admitted to the +Union. We went wild, for we had waited for that word for more than a +year. Every ship in the harbor displayed all her bunting and at night +every house was as brilliant as candles and coal oil could make it. +Bonfires blazed on all the hills and the islands and we had music and +dancing all over the town 'til morning." + +He paused in reminiscence. "But it wasn't so gay that moonlight night, +the next February, when we hung Jenkins. He was a Sidney Cove and had +just stole a safe, but that was the least of his crimes and of the whole +gang. When we Vigilantes heard the taps on the firebell here in the +Plaza, we gathered in front of the committee rooms. Nobody was excited; +we just had to drive out the Sidney Coves and put an end to crime. We +marched Jenkins here and hung him over there to the beam on the south +end of the Custom House. Forty of us pulled on the rope, while a +thousand more stood 'round as solemn as a prayer meeting to give us +moral support and shoulder the responsibility. It wasn't no joke hanging +a man, but it had to be done, if decent men was to live here." + +He shook off his depression. "Everybody was in the Plaza sometime in the +day, and once a month when Telegraph Hill signaled a steamer, everybody +was here." + +"Telegraph Hill? I never heard of it," he cast an accusing glance in my +direction. + +"It belongs to forty-nine," I retorted. + +"All the shops closed immediately," continued the miner, "and Postmaster +Geary was the most important man in town. The post-office was a block up +the hill at Clay and Pike Streets, but the lines from the windows +stretched down into the Plaza, and over among the tents and chaparral on +California Street Hill. Men stood for hours, sometimes all night, in the +pouring rain, and many a time I sold my place for ten dollars, and even +twenty, to some fellow who had less patience or less time than I. + +"But you should have been here on election day in fifty-one." The miner +threw back his head and laughed aloud. "Colonel Jack Hays was running +for sheriff," he resumed, "and his opponent hired a band to play in +front of his store here on the Plaza as an advertisement. It worked +fine! He was polling all the votes and the Colonel was about out of the +running, 'til he got on his horse that he'd used on the Texas ranges and +came cavorting into the square. He showed 'em some fancy turns they +weren't used to and kept it up 'til the polls closed." + +"Did he win?" I asked excitedly. + +"Well, I guess he did! Hands down. But a sheriff ain't no use when the +laws won't stick. That's why we had to have the Vigilance Committees." + +I arose. That was a long story and the afternoon was fast going. My +companion took the hint. He extended his hand and grasped the old +miner's heartily. + +"I thank you," he said, "you have opened up a new epoch to me and I +shall not soon forget you. I shall come again and the place will have +lost much of its interest if you are not here." + +"Oh, I'll be here," laughed the old fellow. "It's home to me." + + + +Telegraph Hill + +The Latin Quarter. The signal station of '49 and a view of the city as +it was. The Golden Gate. + + + +Telegraph Hill of Unique Fame + +"Would you like to go up 'crazy owld, daisy owld Telegraft Hill'," I +asked in a softened mood as we moved away. "There is just about time." + +"Indeed I should," he answered. "Can we take in some of the other things +you archaeologists were mentioning on the way? I don't want to miss +anything." + +"We must leave the Parrott and Niantic buildings until some other day, +but you can see the Montgomery Block if you wish," and we turned down +Washington Street. "It was built on piles, by General Halleck's law +firm. William Tecumseh Sherman's bank was nearby, but I suppose most of +Boston's business men were generals-in-chief of the United States Army." + +My irony was ignored and as we reached the corner of Montgomery, I +continued: "It was on this spot that James King of William, editor of +the 'Bulletin,' was shot down by James P. Casey, the ballot-box stuffer. +The newspaper office was at the other end of the block on Merchant +Alley, and that evening's editorial accused Casey of electing himself +supervisor and stated that he was an ex-convict from Sing Sing. Within +an hour after the paper appeared, Mr. King was carried dying to his room +in the same building. It was this murder that brought the second +Vigilance Committee into existence. While the immense funeral cortege, +the largest San Francisco has ever known, escorted the body of Mr. King +up this street toward Lone Mountain Cemetery, Casey and Cora, another +criminal, were hung in front of the Vigilance, Headquarters on +Sacramento near Front." + +"You called it Fort Gunnybags ?" he queried. + +"Yes, it was so named from the precautionary bulwark of sand-filled +sacks piled up in a hollow square in front to protect the entrance. A +bronze plate marked the old building before the fire." + +We turned into Columbus Avenue. "Your beloved Stevenson used to live at +No. 8, there on the gore where the Italian Bank is," I said. "We are +coming to the Latin Quarter, a section that has always been given over +to foreigners, for in early days 'Sidneyville,' peopled by +ticket-of-leave men from the penal colony of Australia, and 'Little +Chile' of the Peruvians and Chileans, clustered close around the base of +Telegraph Hill." + +"The very place Stevenson would choose, where life was flavored with +history and the mystery of the foreign. But where are you going?" he +exclaimed, stopping short as I began to ascend the steps by which Kearny +Street climbs the hill. + +"I thought you wished to see the site of the Marine Signal Station." I +looked down at him from the fourth stair with feigned surprise. + +"I do, indeed, but--can't we go up by a funicular and come down this +way?" he compromised. "My Boston calves protest." + +"Oh well, we can go by the level a little farther, but I thought you +liked the 'flavor of the foreign.' Anyway, we ought to see Earl +Cummings' old man," I remembered. + +"What is his fatherland and his business?" he asked as his eye traveled +over the shop signs "Sanguinetti, Farmacia Italiana," "Molinari & +Cariani, Grocers;" "Oliva & Brizzolara, Real Estate." + +"His birthplace is the World Universal, and his profession-leading us +back to nature," I answered. Then, as we passed the spick and span +concrete facade of the Patronal Church of St. Francis, with its rear of +burned brick: "This is the direct descendent of the old Mission," I told +him, "the first Parish Church of San Francisco. It was gutted by the +fire and is being very gradually restored. A notice within administers +an implied rebuke: 'The First Erected--the Last Restored.'" + +We paused at the iron fence of the small green triangle cut off from +Washington Square by the slant of Columbus Avenue, and peered at the +fine bronze figure of a sinewy old man stooping to drink from his hand +on the edge of the little pool. + +"Mr. Cummings' message to his universal brothers," he commented. "None +could fail to be refreshed by it. My strength is renewed. Let us +ascend," and he turned up Filbert Street. + +Dark-eyed women lounged in the doorways of the houses that cling to the +perpendicular sides of the hill. "The Italian pervades," I volunteered, +"but there are Greek, Sicilians, Spaniards and French." The whole was +reminiscent of the South of Europe, but the Neapolitan scene of cleated +walks and steep steps lacked the enlivening color notes of the homeland. + +"Not even a red shirt on a clothes line," I regretted, but a flood of +soft voweled Italian from a woman in a third story window, musically +answered by a man in the street below, brought consolation. + +"The opera's own tongue," the Bostonian commented. + +"Well, you leave it to me," finished the man in the street. + +"Sure, Mike, I will," responded the woman. + +My companion halted in consternation. + +"We make American citizens of them all," I asserted. + +"Les petits enfants aussi," I added as a child ran past, shouting a +response in irreproachable English to the Parisian command of her +mother. + +We turned through the rude stone wall into Pioneer Park and along the +unkept paths shaded by eucalyptus, cypress and acacia trees and came +upon the open height where the mountain-hemmed bay lay in broad expanse +before us, dotted with islands and with ferries streaking their way +across its blue-gray surface. + +"Wonderful," he exclaimed under his breath. + + '"O, Telegraft Hill, she sits proud as a Queen, + And th' docks lie below in th' glare,'" + +I quoted from Wallace Irwin. + +He lowered his gaze to the numerous wharves running out into the water, +with teams appearing and disappearing at the entrances of the covered +docks, like lines of busy ants. + + "'And th' bay runs beyant her, all purple and green + Wid th' gingerbread island out there,'" + +I continued the quotation. + +"What are those terraced buildings?" he queried. + +"It has been the military prison for years. It is Alcatraz Island." + +He looked his inquiry. + +"Spanish for Pelican," I answered, seating myself on a rock. "Ayala, the +captain of the 'San Carlos,' the first ship to enter the bay, named it +from the large number of the birds he found on it, and the big island to +the right that looks like a portion of the main land is Angel Island, +abbreviated from Ayala's Isla de Nuestra Senora de los Angeles." + +"And Goat Island?" he questioned as he threw himself down on the grass. + +"Yerba Buena," I corrected. "The other name was colloquially applied +when Nathan Spear, being given some goats and kids by a Yankee skipper, +put them over there. There were several thousand on the island in +forty-nine, but the Americans killed them all off by night in spite of +Spear's protests." + +"Not all of them," he denied as he shied a stick at a white head +reaching from below for a grassy clump. + + "'And th' goats and chicks and brickbats and sticks + Is joombled all over the face of it, + Av Telegraft Hill, Telegraft Hill, + Crazy owld, daisy owld Telegraft Hill,'" + +I laughed. + +"I suppose the Spaniards must have had a name for this sightly hill," +said the Bostonian, his eye tracing the rugged skyline across the bay, +along the Tamalpais Range on the north, and the San Antonio Hills on the +east. + +"Yes, Anza christened it in 1776 when he climbed up here for a view +after selecting the sites for the Presidio and the Mission. He called it +La Loma Alta, and the High Hill it remained until the Americans put it +to commercial use in forty-nine. The little town on the edge of the cove +in the hollow of the hills was unconscious of a ship entering the harbor +until she rounded Clark's Point, the southeast corner of this hill, and +dropped anchor in full view--" + +"Any relation to Champ?" he interrupted. + +"No, Clark was a Mormon, although he afterward denied it, who had built +a wharf in the deep water along the precipitous bluff, where ships could +always disembark even when the ebb-tide uncovered mud-flats elsewhere +along the shore of the cove. + +"The American miners and merchants, eager for the earliest news of the +approaching mails and merchandise, erected a signal station on the top +of Loma Alta, about where that flag-pole is. When a vessel was seen +entering the Golden Gate, the black arms of the semaphore on top of the +building were raised in varying positions indicating to the watching +town below, where every one knew the signals, whether it was a bark, a +brig, a steamer or other kind of craft. This was the first wireless +station on the coast. + +"There comes a side-wheeler," I exclaimed, raising my arms upward in a +slanting position, as a big liner from Yokohama entered the channel. +"Now fancy every office and bank closed, every law-court adjourned, +every gaming table deserted; the shore black with people and long lines +forming from the post-office windows to await the anchoring of the +vessel, the landing of friends and freight, and the sorting of the mail +by Postmaster Geary." + +My companion made a telescope of his two hands and examined the Nippon +Maru. "You are discharged for inefficiency," he said. "You are reporting +a side-wheeler for a screw-propeller." + +"There is no signal in the code for such modern inventions," I retorted. +"I suppose the fog of your practical realism is too obscuring for you to +see that clipper just coming in," I continued, as a full-rigged ship +spread its filled sails against the glowing sky of the late afternoon. + +"The lady is a bit sarcastic, Billy," he addressed the goat, "but we'll +examine it." Then peering through his telescoped hands again, "It's the +clipper ship Eclipse," he announced, "built especially for speed, in the +exigencies of the San Francisco trade, with long, narrow hull, and +carrying an extra amount of canvas. She has made the trip from New York +in three-quarters of the time required by any other kind of craft, and +demands, therefore, nearly double the price for freight." He looked at +me for approval. + +"What a whetstone for the imagination the business sense is!" I +commented. "Perhaps if your grandfather owned shares in the Eclipse, you +will be able to see the second signal station erected the next year on +Point Lobos, just beyond the Fort. From there a vessel could be decried +many miles outside the Heads and the signal repeated by the station here +on Telegraph Hill, relieved the inhabitants of several more hours of +anxiety." + +"Anxiety is a mild term if one couldn't hear for a whole month from the +girl who had his heart," he commented. "It's bad enough when she won't +write, even with a telegraph and railroad between." He was tracing some +characters in the ground at my feet, with a stick. "Thirty-four days," I +made out. + +"If you've sufficiently recovered from the climb, shall we see how the +city looks from up here?" I asked. + +For answer he sprang up and assisted me to my feet. We walked to the +opposite side of the park, where the city lay extended before us. + +"Imagine a forest of masts here in the bay, about seven or eight +hundred; the water laying Montgomery Street beyond the Merchants' +Exchange--that yellow brick building with the little arched cupola; and +wharves running out from every street to reach the ships lying in deep +water, every one swarming with teams and men hurrying to and fro. +Connect them with piled walks over the water on the lines of Sansome and +Battery Streets and you have a picture of Yerba Buena Cove in +forty-nine. Heap up freight and baggage on the shore, erect thousands of +tents on the sand dunes around the edges of a town of shanties and +adobes climbing over the hills and you have our miner's metropolis," I +sketched for him. + +"I see it," he said, shutting his eyes. "Now a wave of the magic wand +and the scene is changed." He opened them again. + +"The magic wand is a steam-paddy, working day and night leveling off the +sand-hills and shoveling them into the bay. The wharves are converted +into streets and many good ships, whose crews having deserted for the +mines, being pulled up and used as storage ships, are caught by the +rising tide of sand and converted into foundations for buildings. Such +was the 'Niantic' at Clay and Sansome." + +"Oh yes, the 'Niantic!" + +"The third building on the site still retains the name." + +"What was the case of assault that gave the belligerent name to Battery +Street?" + +"It was a precaution against assault," I corrected. "Captain Montgomery +erected a fortification of five confiscated Spanish guns on the side of +this hill overlooking the harbor after he had taken possession of the +Mexican town. It was known as Fort Montgomery, or the Battery. It was on +the bluff just where Battery Street joins the Embarcadero down there, +for the hill came out to that point." + +"Did the earthquake shake it down?" His question was tinged with +triumph. + +I crushed him with a look. "The ships that came loaded with freight and +passengers took it away with them as ballast," I explained, "and of +recent years some contractors blasted it off and paved streets with it +until it was rescued from further demolition by some appreciative +landmark lovers of a women's club." + +"What a fortunate interference! But the despoilers got a good slice of +it, didn't they? There wouldn't have been much of it left in a few +years." + +"No more than there is of Rincon Hill, over there at the southern corner +of Yerba Buena Cove." I was considerably mollified by his appreciation. +"It was the best residence quarter of the fifties, but the 'unkindest +cut' of Second Street, which brought no good to anyone, not even its +commercial promoters, left it a place of the 'butt ends of streets,' as +Stevenson says, and inaccessible, square-edged, perpendicular lots whose +only value lies buried underneath them. I fear its scars can never be +remedied." + +"You have several hills left," he consoled me as his eye traveled along +the broken western skyline. "What is their role in this historic drama?" + +"The ridge running down the peninsula is the San Miguel Range, crowned +by Twin Peaks, with the Mission at its foot. Nob Hill, next, acquired +its name in the sixties, when the bonanza and railroad kings erected +their residences there. Before the fire"--I felt my color rising, but +there was no shade of change in my companion's expression--"the +mansions of the 'Big Four' of the Central Pacific--Huntington, Hopkins, +Stanford and Crocker--and the Comstock millionaires--Flood, Fair and +others--filled with magnificent works of craftsmen and artists, had +more than local fame." + +"From this distance, with three of the largest buildings in the city, +the hill hardly seems to have fallen from its high estate," he observed. + +"You are quite right. It still lives up to its name, for the Fairmont +Hotel and the Stanford Apartments, christened for two of its former +magnates, and the brown-stone Flood mansion, remodeled for the +Pacific-Union Club, are no whit less nobby than their predecessors." + +"The next hill?" He turned his gaze to the houses perched on the top and +clinging part way down its steep sides. + +"A little graveyard where the Russian gold-seekers were laid to rest +gave its name. It is now the home of the artists and the artistic." + +"A city built on the water and the hills, and rebuilt on the ashes of +seven fires," he commented. "It is almost incomprehensible." After a +moment's pause: "How much of the city was burned by the last fire?" + +I glanced sharply at him. There was no shade of irony in his tone and +his face showed only sincerity. + +"All that you can see, from the fringe of wharves at the waterfront to +the top of the hills and down into the valley beyond, except these +houses here at our feet, saved by the Italians with wine-soaked +blankets, and a few on the heights of Russian Hill." + +"It was colossal!" he exclaimed. "Think of it! a whole city wiped out." +I lowered my eyes to the goat nibbling beside us. "The courage and +energy that rebuilt it is herculean." His enthusiasm was cumulative. +"And rebuilt it in practically three years! No wonder you date all +things from the fire." + +Billy flickered his tail and solemnly winked at me. + +"It is getting late," I said, "but the sun is just setting. Shall we +watch it before we go?" + +Without speaking, he followed me back to our first point of view. The +crimson ball was sinking into the sea, with its Midas touch turning the +water and sky to molten gold. The last rays gilded the cliffs on either +side of the entrance to the bay, and burnished the heads of the nodding +poppies at our feet. From the Presidio came the muffled boom of the +sunset gun. + +"Could Fremont have chosen a better name?" exclaimed the man at my side. +"The Golden Gate it is, indeed!" + +"It certainly is well named," I agreed, "for everyone can interpret its +meaning according to his mood and character. Some see only what Fremont +saw, an open door to commerce; to others it is the entrance to hoards of +gold, stowed away in hills and streams; to the poet it speaks of the +golden poppies that streak the hillsides, but I like to think of it as +did the Indians, who called it 'Yulupa,' the Sunset Strait." + +Silently we watched the lights of the city come out, one by one, until +it seemed as if the heavens lay beneath us. + +"I hoped when I left Boston that you would return with me," he said +gently, "but I can't ask you to leave this. I didn't understand then, +but now--" + +The lights became blurred and the night seemed suddenly to have grown +cold. + +"Of course, you couldn't be happy--" + +The voice did not sound like his. I had been in a dream for two days. I +had thought he cared just as I did, but he couldn't, or he would realize +that nothing counted but--I bit my lips to keep from crying out. + +"Boston is too cold for a girl with the warmth of California in her +heart." + +Cold! Didn't he know that life with him would make an iceberg paradise? +Didn't he realize--? But, of course, he didn't care as I did! This was +only a subterfuge. I straightened proudly. + +"I can't ask you to go back with me," he was saying, "but I can stay +here with you." His hand crept over mine. "Our business needs a manager +on this coast. Will you help me make a home in San Francisco, dear?" + +Below, the lights of the city danced with happiness and a glad new song +rang in my heart. + + + +Here ends 'The Lure of San Francisco. A Romance Amid Old Landmarks." +Written by Elizabeth Gray Potter and Mabel Thayer Gray and Illustrated +from Sketches in Charcoal by Audley B. Wells. Done into a book by Paul +Elder and Company at their Tomoye Press in San Francisco under the +supervision and care of H. A. Funke, in July, Nineteen Hundred and +Fifteen. + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Lure of San Francisco +by Elizabeth Gray Potter and Mabel Thayer Gray + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE LURE OF SAN FRANCISCO *** + +***** This file should be named 11507.txt or 11507.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/1/1/5/0/11507/ + +Produced by David A. Schwan <davidsch@earthlink.net> + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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