Yosemite Indians and Other Sketches (1936) by Mrs. H. J. Taylor

- Title

- Preface

- Table of Contents

- Illustrations

- The Yosemite Indians

- James C. Lamon

- James Mason Hutchings

- Galen Clark

- John Muir

- Building of Coulterville Road

- The Peregoy Register

- Early Artists in Yosemite

- Cemetery in Yosemite Valley

- Yosemite Fire Fall

About the Author

[click to enlarge]
Rose (Schuster) Taylor
(Mrs. H. J. Taylor).
See frontispiece for another photo

Rose Schuster was born on Jan. 5, 1863 in Wisconsin. She graduated from University of Wisconsin 1885. She married Henry James Taylor, a professor of Greek, who she met at the University of Wisconsin. Mrs. H. J. Taylor taught school before her marriage and also lived in Sioux City, Iowa. After her husband’s death, she moved to Berkeley, California, and Yosemite Valley. She was one of the founders of the Yosemite Museum and was its librarian and a docent for many years. Besides Yosemite Indians and Other Sketches, Mrs. H. J. Taylor wrote The Last Survivor and other books and articles for the Yosemite Natural History Association. She received the Wisconsin Alumni Association Distinguished Alumni Award in 1940. She died Jan. 25, 1951 in Alameda Co., California.

A scholarship in memory of Rose Schuster Taylor was established with the Hawaii Audubon Society.

Her son Paul Schuster Taylor was born 1895 in Sioux City, Iowa. he was Professor of Economics at University of California Berkeley and a Guggenheim fellow. He was a leader of the progressive movement and one of the few to protest mass incarceration of Japanese-Americans during World War II. His papers are in the Bancroft Library, which includes the collected writings of Mrs. H. J. Taylor (3 volumes).

- “Mrs. H. J. Taylor 1863-1951,” Yosemite Nature Notes 30(2):12-14 (February 1951) by Carl P. Russell

Bibliographical Information

Taylor, Mrs. Henry James (Rose (Schuster) Taylor) (1863-1951), Yosemite Indians and Other Sketches (San Francisco: Johnck & Seeger, 1936), Copyright 1936 by Mrs. H. J. Taylor. 7+103 pp. Illustrated 24 cm. Orange paper boards, orange cloth back strip, and paper label with black lettering [cover image]. Bright mylar dust jacket. 400 copies printed (not 500, see p. 103). LCCN 36-036466. Library of Congress Call Number F868.Y6 T28.

Digitized by Dan Anderson, December 2004, from a copy at San Diego Public Library. These files may be used for any non-commercial purpose, provided this notice is left intact.
—Dan Anderson, www.yosemite.ca.us

TO-TU-YA (FOAMING WATER), GRANDDAUGHTER OF CHIEF TENAYA,
AND HER “WHITE DAUGHTER,” THE AUTHOR

YOSEMITE
INDIANS

AND OTHER SKETCHES

BY
MRS. H. J. TAYLOR

JOHNCK & SEEGER : SAN FRANCISCO : 1936

Copyright 1936 Mrs. H. J. Taylor

THIS BOOK IS AFFECTIONATELY DEDICATED
TO THE MEMORY OF
TO-TU-YA (FOAMING WATER)
GRANDDAUGHTER OF CHIEF TENAYA
LAST SURVIVOR OF YOSEMITE BAND
DRIVEN FROM AHWAHNEE IN 1851

PREFACE

HE many and interesting queries of tourists concerning Yosemite Indians and early settlers impressed the need of wider and more definite knowledge of the history and development of Yosemite. During my service in the Yosemite Museum Library I frequently met visitors who had been acquainted with one or more pioneers. They gave data regarding these pioneers and likewise related incidents in Yosemite’s development. The fact that first hand information would not much longer be obtainable determined my search for it. T he task proved more serious and difficult than was anticipated.

The effort to find a relative of J. C. Lamon, Yosemite’s first settler, was constant through nearly three years and seemed futile when more than forty letters brought no results, but there came an unexpected and happy surprise. Returning from Europe, two people in their steamer chairs were discussing my persistent and futile efforts. A gentleman who overheard the conversation said, ‘I am the nephew of J. C. Lamon and have been several times in Yosemite.” He became deeply interested in the sketch of his uncle and I regret that he did not live to see it in print. The Yosemite Indians intimately connected with the early history of the Valley have died since this work was begun.

Events are realities only to those who live them. Data in the following sketches were received in greater part from those who shared in these historic episodes.

The Author

CONTENTS

CHAPTER 1: THE YOSEMITE INDIANS

3

CHAPTER 2: JAMES C. LAMON

17

CHAPTER 3: JAMES MASON HUTCHINGS

29

CHAPTER 4: GALEN CLARK

43

CHAPTER 5: JOHN MUIR

53

CHAPTER 6: BUILDING OF COULTERVILLE ROAD

66

CHAPTER 7: THE PEREGOY REGISTER

69

CHAPTER 8: EARLY ARTISTS IN YOSEMITE
THOMAS A. AYRES, THOMAS HILL, ALBERT BIERSTADT,
CHRIS JORGENSEN, WILLIAM E. KEITH, THOMAS MORAN

77

CHAPTER 9: CEMETERY IN YOSEMITE VALLEY

93

CHAPTER 1O: YOSEMITE FIRE FALL

101

ILLUSTRATIONS

TO-TU-YA AND THE AUTHOR

Frontispiece

INDIAN O'-CHUM AND CHUCK'-AH

2

FIRST CABIN BUILT IN YOSEMITE

16

JAMES MASON HUTCHINGS

28

GALEN CLARK

42

JOHN MUIR

52

FIRST PICTURE OF YOSEMITE

76

ALBERT BIERSTADT

81

CHRIS JORGENSEN

86

THOMAS MORAN

91

THE YOSEMITE INDIANS

Drawing by Jorgenson

AN INDIAN O'-CHUM
Made of small poles covered
with cedar bark for
winter dwelling

Drawing by Mrs. Jorgensen

AN INDIAN CHUCK'-AH
Storehouse for nuts and acorns,
thatched with pine branches
to keep out rodents

Chapter 1: The Yosemite Indians

Note: The Yosemite Indians were one of several groups comprising the California Miwoks which, according to A. L. Kroeber, numbered about 10,000 in 1850, and the Yosemite group numbered about 500 when the Valley was discovered in 1851. Early sources include L. H. Bunnell, Discovery of the Yosemite, 1880 and Galen Clark, Indians of Yosemite, 1904.

serious and almost hopeless situation was thrust upon the Indian tribes in and about Yosemite Valley when, on the discovery of gold, miners by the thousands flocked into California. The proximity of the Pacific Ocean made it impossible to push the Indian westward as had always been done, but he was conquered. Miners staked their claims on his territory; cut his acorn-bearing trees for fuel; hunted his game for food; destroyed his bulbous roots in digging for gold; invaded his famliy, taking young Indian women, willing or not, for servants and wives. Suffering from loss of food and territory the Indians made raids on the whites, taking what they could from the trading posts; stealing horses from the corrals; burning houses; even murdering, then fleeing to the mountains. A deadly hate was engendered; the Indian would drive the last miner from his territory. The whites determined to subjugate the Indians and kill all of them if necessary. In vain did General Eastland report to Washington: “The Indians are more sinned against than sinning.”

Military force was called into existence by the authority of the state and the Mariposa Battalion was organized. Runners were sent to the bands hiding in the mountains, assuring them that they would receive food, clothing and protection if they would treat with the commission; if not, war would be carried on until every Indian was destroyed. All the Indians in the immediate vicinity, except the Yosemites, came. Scouts reported: “The Indians in the deep rocky valley do not wish for peace. They think the white men cannot find their hiding place, and therefore they cannot be driven out “Another scout added: “In this deep valley one Indian can withstand ten white men. They will throw rocks down if the white men come near them, for they are lawless and strong as the grizzlies. We are afraid to go to the valley for there are witches there.”

A special messenger was sent to the Yosemites and Chief Tenaya appeared the next day. He came alone and stood in dignified silence until motioned to enter camp. He was informed that if he would make a treaty with the commission there would be no war. Tenaya asked the object of taking all Indians to the plains of the Joaquin Valley, saying: “My people do not want anything from the Great Father you tell us about. The Great Spirit is our father and he has supplied us with all we need. We do not want anything from white men. Let us remain in the mountains where we were born, where the ashes of our fathers have been given to the winds. I have said enough.”

He was asked: “If you and your people have all you want, why do you steal our horses and mules? Why do you rob and murder the white men and burn their houses?”

Tenaya sat silent for a time then replied: “My young men have taken horses and mules from the whites and it was wrong for them to do so. It is not wrong to take property from enemies who have wronged my people. My young men believed the white gold-diggers were our enemies; we now know they are not, and we will be glad to live with them in peace. We will stay here and be friends. My people do not want to go to the plains. The tribes who go there are some of them very bad. They will make war on my people. We cannot live on the plains with them. Here we can defend ourselves against them.”

“Your people must go to the commissioners and make terms with them,” the officer replied. “If they do not make a treaty your whole tribe will be destroyed—not one of them will be left alive!”

“I will not lie to you but promise that if allowed to return to my people I will bring them in,” pledged Tenaya.

It was the month of March, 1851. Through the deep snows the chief went into his Ahwahnee* [*According to a statement made by Tenaya to Dr. L. H. Bunnell, the original name of the Valley was “Ah-wah-nee,” meaning “deep grassy place.” The Indians living there were called “Ah-wah-nee-chees.” Tenaya, who claimed to be a direct descendant of their chief, said they were a powerful tribe until wars and a black sickness destroyed most of them. The few that were left went out of the Valley and joined other tribes, leaving the Valley uninhabited for some time. When Tenaya reached manhood, he left the Monos, where he was born and brought up, and gathered the remnants of his father’s people from other tribes, and claimed the Valley as his own. His band was called Yosemite, meaning “grizzly bear,” because they were fearless and expert in killing the grizzly. When it was discovered in 1851, the Valley was named Yosemite by Dr. L. H. Bunnell. [Editor’s note: For the correct origin of the words Yosemite and Ahwahnee see “Origin of the Word Yosemite.”—dea.] but returned to camp the following day, saying his people would soon come in. Several days passed but no Indians came. Tenaya said the snow was so deep they could not travel fast, and motioning with his hands explained that his village was far down and it would take a long time to climb out through the snow. When no Indians appeared on the following day, the battalion took Tenaya as guide and started for Yosemite. They had gone about half way when they met seventy-two Indians who had climbed the steep trail.

“Your band is about two hundred. Where are the rest?” they were asked.

Tenaya replied: “This is all my people that are willing to go with me to the plains. Many that are with me are from other tribes. They have taken wives from my band; all the rest have gone with their wives and children to the Tuolumne River to join the Wil-tuc-um-nees.”

Tenaya with the seventy-two Indians, mostly women and children, returned to camp. “We will go to your village and your people will come with us if we find them,” declared the Major.

“You will not find my people there,” returned Tenaya. “I do not know where they are. My tribe is small—not large as the white chief has said. The Piutes and Monos are all gone. Many of the people with my tribe are from western tribes that have come to me and do not wish to return. I have talked with my people and told them that I was going to see the white chiefs sent to make peace. I was told that I was growing old, and that I should go, but that young and strong men can find plenty in the mountains; therefore why should they go? My heart has been sore since that talk but I am still willing to go.”

On March 21, 1851, the battalion reached Inspiration Point, from which Ahwahnee, the home and hiding place of the Yosemite Indians, secured by granite walls, was in full view. They continued the trail into the “deep grassy place” where they found but one Indian, a squaw too old to climb the rocks, sitting by the dying embers of her fire. The villages had suddenly been deserted. About six hundred bushels of acorns, also pine and chinquapin nuts, grass seeds, dried grasshoppers, larvae of insects and other foods were found in caches, which, together with the villages and all they contained, were destroyed by the soldiers. Major Savage was disappointed that he found no Indians but looked with satisfaction on the ruins of the huts he had destroyed. The slow rising smoke from the acorn caches and other foods was a pleasing sight to his eyes and he remarked to his men: “Although I have not carried a Bible with me since I became a mountain-man, I remember well enough that Satan entered Paradise and did all the mischief he could, but I intend to be a bigger devil in this Indian Paradise than old Satan ever was.” The trail by which the soldiers entered the Valley was retraced and the battalion returned to headquarters.

The Indians who had come from the surrounding tribes, about three hundred and fifty including Tenaya and the seventy-two Yosemites, started on their trek to the Fresno Reservation. They traveled slowly, the men hunting by the way, the squaws cooking acorn mush and bread whenever they wanted food. Confidence in their captives was such that on the last night out the battalion went on to Fresno leaving only nine men to bring in the Indians on the following day, when a glorious reception with a great feast and gaudy presents would be given them. The men and Indians did not come as expected and when, after much waiting, the captain and his nine men arrived there were no Indians. They had stolen quietly out of camp during the night while the guards slept and were nowhere to be found. Runners were sent out and soon all the captives returned except the Yosemites. All inducements failed. They refused beef, saying they preferred horse flesh. Garish presents offered at the agency were refused by Tenaya as no recompense for giving up the freedom of his mountain home. A second expedition against the Yosemites was admitted as the only means of bringing the old chief to terms.

This expedition started early in May, 1851, six or seven weeks after the first. On entering the Valley it was seen that a few huts had been rebuilt and there was evidence that Indians had been living in them, though not one was to be found. At length five Indians were discovered among the rocks and trees. The soldiers crossed the river while the Indians fled at full speed, disappearing in the talus near Three Brothers where they were soon captured. Three of these Indians were the sons of Chief Tenaya, whence the name “Three Brothers” for these monoliths. The other two were young braves, the wife of one being a daughter of Tenaya. The captives said they were to meet Tenaya near To-co-ya (North Dome). One of the chief’s sons and the son-in-law were sent to tell Tenaya that he and his people would be safe if they would come in and make peace with the white men; the other three braves were held as hostages. The soldiers practiced archery with them, and one young brave shot an arrow far beyond all the others. Pretending to search for it, he dashed away and escaped into Indian Canyon. The two remaining hostages were tied back to back and fastened to a tree.

On their return the scouts reported that they had talked with Tenaya but could not reach him because the rocks were too steep. They reported that Tenaya would not come in and he would not go to Fresno. He would make peace if he could stay in his own territory; neither he nor his people would go into the Valley while the white men were there. They would stay in the mountains or go to the Monos. Scouts were sent out with orders to bring in the old chief, alive if possible.

The hostages were found untying each other and one escaped into Indian Canyon, so named from this incident. The guard shot and killed the other—Tenaya’s youngest and most beloved son. The captain, grieved and distressed, told the guard he had committed murder. At this moment the scouts returned with Chief Tenaya walking proudly into camp. Suddenly his eyes fell upon the lifeless body at his feet. He paused—as he looked, his lips began to quiver—he recognized the lifeless form. A deadly hate was stamped on his countenance as he raised his head, gazed into the eyes of the captain and looked over the camp in search of his other son. The captain’s expressions of regret and sorrow did not move the grief-stricken chief He stood in silence; not a sound escaped his lips that day nor for many days.

The Indians who had married with the Yosemites, on hearing that Tenaya was captured, took their women and children to the Wil-tuc-um-nees on the Tuolumne, fearing the old chief would again promise to take his band to Fresno. Breaking silence, Tenaya said he would call in some of his people and abide by their decision, that they were not far away and could hear his voice. The call to notify the band of festivity, danger or death is a vibrating sound of such pitch, purity, and quality of tone that it can be heard at a great distance. Though he called for many nights no reply was made.

A few days later Tenaya attempted to escape but was caught before he plunged into the river. Angry that he failed to gain his liberty, fearing that he would be shot for the attempt, overwhelmed with grief, his hatred toward the captain knew no bounds and he burst forth in lamentation and accusations: “Kill me, sir captain! Yes, kill me, as you killed my son; as you would kill my people if they would come to you; you would kill all my race if you had the power. Yes, sir, American, you can now tell your warriors to kill the old chief; you have made me sorrowful, my life dark. You killed the child of my heart—why not kill the father? But—wait a little! When I am dead, I will call to my people to come to you. I will call louder than you have heard me call, that they may hear me in my sleep, and come to avenge the death of their chief and his son. Yes, American! My spirit will make trouble for you and your people, as you have caused trouble to me and my people. With the wizzards, I will follow the white men and make them fear me. You may kill me, but you shall not live in peace. I will follow in your footsteps, I will not leave my home, but be with the spirits among the rocks, the waterfalls, in the rivers and in the winds; wheresoever you go I will be with you. You will not see me, but you will fear the spirit of the old chief and grow cold. The great spirits have spoken; I am done.”

Taking several scouts, and Tenaya as guide, the captain went in search of the Yosemites who he knew were not far away. When well up Tenaya Canyon, so named for the chief, one of the scouts pointed to a cloud of smoke, which in the clear mountain air, revealed an Indian village about two miles away on the banks of a beautiful lake. Aware that the approaching soldiers had made escape impossible, the inhabitants threw up their hands and cried, “Pace! pace!” Thirty-five were taken prisoners, all of whom belonged to Tenaya’s family, among them his four squaws. The young chief of the group said these were all that were left, the rest having returned to the tribes from which they had sprung.

When the young chief was asked if he were willing to go to Fresno, he replied: “Not only willing but anxious. Where can we now go that the Americans will not follow us?” They had fled to the mountains without food or clothing and were worn out with watching and building signal fires. They had hoped to go to the Monos when the snow melted and make a home with them. On leaving the lake it was named “Lake Tenaya” though the chief protested: “It has a name. We call it Py-we-ack.” To these, their last ochums, the Yosemites never returned. They were taken to the Fresno Reservation where they arrived about June 10, 1851.

Tenaya and his people soon tired of the reservation and its restrictions. All that had made life interesting and joyous was gone, and they longed for the exhilarating air of the mountains, huts without walls, and freedom to hunt food in their own territory. Liberty is too dear a price to pay for food and shelter and unwanted clothing. Life was humiliating to the old chief and after a few months on the reservation he begged to return to his territory and gave his pledge—it was never broken—that he would not disturb the white settlers. He was allowed to go and take his family with him. With this remnant Tenaya returned to his beloved and secluded Ahwahnee.

In May, 1852, a small party of prospectors were entering Yosemite Valley when Indians suddenly attacked them and killed two of the men. Five of the Indians were captured and were ordered to be shot immediately. The shooting was observed by a scout in hiding sent by Tenaya. When the shooting was reported to him, Tenaya and his people left their hiding places and trekked over the mountains to join the Piutes and Monos. The soldiers, finding no Indians in the Valley, hastened to apprehend them on the trail but could not overtake them.

Tenaya and his little band stayed with the Monos until the early autumn of 1853 when they returned to Yosemite. They built their huts in the east end of the Valley, obtained acorns from the oak trees, and hunted game outside their fortress. The Piutes and Monos had made a successful raid on ranches and had captured a number of horses. Several of Tenaya’s men went on a foraging expedition and, knowing it was safer to rob their allies than risk a raid on the whites, they succeeded in stealing a few horses from the Monos. In the Valley they felt secure and after a few days had a feast of horse flesh. The Indians gorged themselves and on crammed stomachs slept soundly. The Monos, revengeful and warlike, pounced upon them before they could rally for the fight a rid dealt blows of death to the Yosemites, whom they had so recently led and sheltered. The young chief of the Monos hurled a rock at the old chief whose skull was crushed by the blow. More rocks were hurled and the last chief of the Yosemites lay stoned to death in his Ahwahnee. All but eight of Tenaya’s young braves were killed. These made their escape through the canyon below. The women and children were made captives and taken across the mountains. The once powerful, much feared, cunning tribe of Yosemite Indians was all but wiped out.

Tenaya’s grand-daughter, Maria Lebrado, told the writer that, two or three weeks after the chief was stoned to death, the half-breed, Tom Hutchings, brought Tenaya’s bones to the South Fork in a buckskin and, according to their custom, a three day funeral was held. She said: “We give Tenaya nice funeral. Much Indians come; much cry, dance, sing; no sit, no eat. Three days sing, dance all time, then burn bones and make ashes go.” She illustrated by extending her arms as if to throw the ashes to the winds.

According to Maria Lebrado, the sole surviving full-blood Yosemites were herself, a daughter, a nephew, and Sally Ann of Coulterville. All of these are now deceased. Two great-grand-children of Tenaya by his Piute squaw and three great-grand-children of Chief Tenaya, half-breeds through a Mexican father, are still living. But the history of the Yosemites as a tribe is finished. This statement was made verbally by Maria Lebrado to the writer in 1930.

Following are the Indian Villages and Camp Sites in Yosemite as located by C. Hart Merriam. (Sierra Club Bulletin, Vol. X, No. 2, published January, 1917, pp. 202-209.)
INDIAN VILLAGE AND CAMP SITES IN YOSEMITE VALLEY

1. Hoo-ké-hahtch'-ke.—Situated at the extreme upper end of the Valley between Merced River and Tenaya Creek, and just below the mouth of Tenaya Cañon. A summer village inhabited up to about twenty years ago.

2. Hol'-low', or Lah'-koo-bah.—Indian cave, immediately under Washington Column at the mouth of Tenaya Cañon; a low, broad, and deep recess under a huge rock. Said to have been occupied as a winter shelter, and also when attacked by the Mono Lake Piutes. The overhanging rock is black from smoke of ages, and far back in the cave large quantities of acorn-shells have been found. The word Lah-koó-hah, often applied to Indian Cave, is a call meaning “come out.”

3. Wis'-kah-lah.—A large summer camp on a northward bend of Merced River, a little west of Royal Arches. Western part of site now occupied by a small settlement known as Kinneyville.

4. Yó-watch-ke (sometimes nicknamed Mah-chá-to, meaning “edge” or “border,” because of its position on the border of the valley).—Large village at mouth of Indian Cañon; still occupied.

5. Ah-wah'-ne.—Village on Black Oak Flat, extending from site of Galen Clark’s grave easterly nearly to Yó-watch-ke. As in the case of most of the villages, the village name was applied also to a definite tract of land belonging to it. This area, in the case of Ah-wah'ne, was a piece of level ground of considerable size, beginning on the west along a north and south line passing through Sentinel Hotel and reaching easterly nearly to the mouth of Indian Cañon. The cemetery was on this tract, as was also the barn formerly belonging to J. B. Cooke. This being the largest tract of open level ground in the Valley, the name Ah-wah'-ne came to be applied by outside Indians to the whole Valley.

6. Koom-í-ne, or Kom-í-ne.—The largest and most important village in the Valley, situated on the north side of the delta of Yosemite Creek just below Yosemite Fall (Ah-wah'-ning chú-luk-ah-hu, slurred to Chó-luk), and extending south-westerly at the base of the talus-slope under the towering cliffs for about three-quarters of a mile, reaching almost or quite to Three Brothers (Haw'-hawk). Old Chief Tenaya had a large earth-covered ceremonial-house (hang-e) by a big oak tree in this village. The Government soldiers stationed in the Valley took possession of the site and established their camp there in 1907, forcing the Indians out. (Occupied by Indians during all my earlier visits.)

7. Wah-hó-gah.—Small village about half a mile west-southwest of Koom-í-ne, on or near edge of meadow.

8. Soo-sem'-moo-lah.—Village at northwest end of old Folsom bridge (now the ford), less than half a mile south of Rocky Point.

9. Hah-kí-ah.—Large village only a short distance (less than one-eighth mile) below Soo-sem'-moo-lah, and likewise south of Three Brothers (Haw'hawk). A roundhouse, or hang-e, was located here, not far from old Folsom bridge. The three villages, Wah-hó-gah, Soo-sem'-oo-lah, and Hah-kí-ah, were inhabited up to about twenty years ago.

10. Kom'-pom-pá-sah, or Pom'-pom-pá-sah.—Small village only a little below Hah-kí-ah, and also south of Three Brothers, or under the talus-slope of the cañon immediately west of Three Brothers.

11. Aw'-o-koi-e.—Small village below and slightly east of the tall pine growing in a notch on the broad south face of El Capitan. The native Indian name of the gigantic rock cliff which we call El Capitan is To-tó-kon oo-lah, from To-tó-kon, the Sandhill Crane, a chief of the First People.

12. He-lé-jah (the mountain lion).—Small village under El Capitan, a little west of Aw'-o-koi-e.

13. Ha-eng'-ah.—Small village under El Capitan, and only a little west of He-lé-jah.

14. Yu-á-chah.—Still another village under El Capitan, and only a short distance west of Ha-eng'-ah.

15. Hep-hep'-oo-ma.—Village where present Big Oak Flat road forks to leave the main road, south of the steep canon which forms the west wall of El Capitan, and near west end of the Big El Capitan Meadows (To-tó-kon oó-lah' i-e-hu). The five villages, Aw'-o-koi-e, He-lé-jah, Ha-eng'-ah, Yu-á-chah, and Hep-hep'-oo-ma, were summer villages occupied from April to late October or early November.

16. Tí-e-té-mah.—Village only a short distance below Hep-hep'-oo-ma, and close to El Capitan bridge.

17. Ho-kó-nah.—Small village a little below Tí-e-té-mah, and near site of old (shack) house.

18. Wé-tum-taw.—Village by a small meadow a short distance below Ho-kó-nah, and east of Black Spring.

19. Poot-poo-toon, or Put-put-toon.—Village in rocky place on north side of present road at Black Spring, from which it takes its name.

20. Ah-wah'-mah.—Lowermost (westernmost) village in Yosemite Valley, a short distance below Black Spring and above Til-til'-ken-ny, where the mail-carrier’s cabin is located.

21. Sap-pah'-sam-mah.—Lowermost (most westerly) village or camp on south side of the Valley, about half a mile east of Pohono Meadows.

22. Lem-mé-hitch'-ke.—Small village or camp on east side of Pohono (or Bridal Veil) Creek, just below a very large rock.

23. Hop'-tó-ne.—Small village or camp at base of westernmost of the lofty cliffs known as Cathedral Rocks, and close to south end of El Capitan bridge across Merced River.

24. Wé-sum-meh'.—Small village or camp at base of Cathedral Spires near the river, with a small meadow below; not far above Hop'-to-ne.

25. Kis'-se, or Kis'-se-uh.—Large village near the river, nearly opposite Hah-kí-ah. Kis'-se was the westernmost of the large villages on the south side. From it easterly they occurred at frequent intervals.

26. Chá-chá-kal-lah.—Large village just below old Folsom bridge (ford). Formerly a sweat-house (chap-poó) here.

27. Ham'-moo-ah.—Village on Ford road, nearly opposite Three Brothers (Wah-hah'-kah).

28. Loí-ah.—Large village in open pine forest below Sentinel Rock (on ground now occupied by Camp Ahwahnee) and reaching down toward river. Occupied during my earlier visits to the Valley.

29. Hoó-koo-mé-ko-tah.—Village a little above Galen Clark’s house; looked out easterly over big meadow. Occupied during my earlier visits. (Hoo-koo-me is the great horned owl.)

30. Haw-kaw-koó-e-tah (Ho-kok'-kwe-lah, Haw-kaw'-koi). Large and important village on Merced River, where Sentinel Hotel and cottages now stand. Home oft he band called Yo-ham'-i-te (or Yo-hem'-i-te) , for whom the Valley was named. The old woman Callipena was a Yo-ham'-i-te.

31. Ho-low.—Village on or near Merced River where the schoolhouse used to stand.

32. Wah'-tahk'-itch-ke.—Village on edge of meadow on south bend of Merced River near forks of road west of Le Conte Memorial. The wild pea (wah-tah'-kah) grows here.

33. Too-yú-yú-yu.—Large village on south bend of Merced River due north of Le Conte Memorial and close to the bridge between Le Conte Memorial (or Camp Curry) and Kinneyville.

34. Too-lah'-kah'-mah.—Village or camp on open ground now occupied by orchard on east side of meadow north of Camp Curry.

35. Um'-ma-taw.—Large village on present wagon-road between Camp Curry and Happy Isles; was some distance from the river; water was fetched from a spring.

36. Ap'-poo-meh.—Camp on Merced River below Vernal Fall.

37. Kah-win'-na-bah'.—Large summer camp in Little Yosemite, whose name it bears.

JAMES C. LAMON

Photographed in 1861

FIRST CABIN BUILT IN YOSEMITE

Chapter 2: James C. Lamon • 1817-1875

granite shaft in Yosemite Cemetery reads: “James C. Lamon. Died May 22nd, 1875 aged 58 years.” Little is known of Mr. Lamon, yet that little reveals a distinct personality, a rare character, and a life rich in simple kindliness. He was a recluse who lived his life in solitude, and who was often called “Hermit of Yosemite.” Those who knew him, speak of him as retiring and unostentatious in manner—a man to be trusted.

His nephew has given us something of the background of this refined, sensitive man with whom it is difficult to associate rough mining days of early Mariposa. James Chenowith Lamon, fifth in a family of fourteen children, was born in West Virginia in 1817. In 1836 the family moved to Illinois and settled on a farm. James had but a common school course. A brother, Robert Bruce Lamon, served as a member of the California State Legislature. In 1839 James C. Lamon went to Texas—then a Republic—and entered the service when war broke out with Mexico. In 1850 he went to California to join his brother, Robert Bruce Lamon. In 1852 the Lamon brothers and David Clark became partners in a lumber mill in Mariposa County. In 1858, while Robert Bruce Lamon was on a visit in the East, the lumber mill burned and unfortunately there was no insurance. Robert did not return and James decided to go to Yosemite as he knew something of the Valley through his brother Robert, who led the first sight-seeing party into Yosemite Valley in 1854.* [*J. A. Lamon, nephew of James C. Lamon, in June, 1932, writes: “My father, Robert Bruce Lamon, knew most positively that his party was the first outside the Indian fighters. He learned of the Valley from Captain Boling and Mr. Savage and persuaded five of his friends to join him in a trip of exploration and entered the Valley in 1854.” Concerning the pronunciation of their name, he states : “Our name is pronounced as though it was spelled Lemon—the “a” having the sound of “e” as in “any,” “many,” etc.] This party, in honor of its leader, Robert Bruce Lamon, named the falls above Vernal Falls, “Lamon Falls” and placed a sign there with this name. No doubt it was lost in the snow and storms of the winters but the present name, Nevada Falls, robs history of this interesting data.

In June, 1859, James Chenowith Lamon arrived in Yosemite Valley, located and preempted 160 acres, in three detached portions, in the upper end of the Valley* [*In 1898 Robert Bruce Lamon, after a lapse of forty years, revisited Yosemite. Of his brother’s orchard he says : “Some of the trees I find still standing and also part of the post-and-rail fence he enclosed them with.”] (Report of Commission to Governor H. H. Haight, 1869), and remained there the rest of his life. He built the first log cabin in Yosemite, locating on the south side of the Valley. The Sacramento Record-Union, May 24, 1875, says: “The cabin is of rough logs, dirt floor and no windows, and contains a granite fire-place, a cot, table, cupboard, bearskins etc.” Mr. Lamon cultivated a garden of vegetables and small fruits and planted two large orchards.

A letter from Galen Clark to Robert Bruce Lamon dated June 6, 1898, reads in part as follows: “Your brother James commenced improvements on his place in Yosemite in 1859 but did not spend a winter there until 1861-1862 and 1862-1863 which winters he spent there alone. In the winter of 1861-1862 there was a rumor that a man had been killed by the Indians on the trail to Yosemite. I got Gus Hite to go with me to Yosemite to see if your brother was all right. We found Jim well and exceedingly glad to see us and to get some of the later news.”

There is quality and capacity in a man who, shut off from all human contact, is able to live in the solitude of his lonely hut through winter storm and snow. In 1864 J. M. Hutchings and his family began wintering in the Valley. His daughter, Gertrude Hutchings Mills, in a letter in 1932 writes: “I can remember Mr. Lamon very well with longish hair beneath his hat brim, and trousers tucked in his cow-hide boots, driving his team of large, red oxen. He helped my father by hauling logs to the little mill near the foot of Yosemite Falls. He was a quiet but not an austere man, much liked and re[s]pected.” Mr. Lamon’s door was ever open with true and generous hospitality. John Muir writes: “He was a fine, erect, whole-souled man, between six and seven feet high, with a broad open face, bland and guileles as his pet oxen . . . many there be, myself among the number, who can testify to his simple unostentatious kindness that found expression in a thousand small deeds.”

James Chenowith Lamon was one of God’s born gentlemen. He was a neighbor in the truest sense to all who needed him. If the ties of home and family were not for him and the depths of his heart remained forever unexpressed, there yet radiated out of his simple life of solitude an atmosphere of mellowed richness and quietude that made him a figure apart from the ordinary.

In September, 1930 the writer visited Henry Hedges, of Mariposa, the first bus driver into Yosemite. He spoke of Mr. Lamon’s fine garden of vegetables and small fruits irrigated by water from the Royal Arches; his marvelous strawberries, some as large as hen’s eggs; his two large orchards of choice fruits. No tourist omitted a visit to the cabin of Yosemite’s first settler. Mr. Hedges often helped him pack away his apples for winter, placing alternate layers of grass and apples in a hole dug below the freezing point where the fruit kept perfectly. Mr. Hedges added: “I wish you could have seen Lamon’s fine, big oxen —Dave and Brownie— both of ’em red. They seemed to belong to the Valley and everybody liked ’em. They did all the ploughing and cultivating in the orchards and no end of hauling logs.”

After Mr. Lamon’s death in 1875 Mr. Harris leased the place. Replying to a letter in September, 1930, Mrs. Esther Harris Nathan said: “Among the apples in the Lamon orchard were Winesaps, Gravenstein, Rhode Island Greening, Russet, Fall Pippin, Baldwin, Water Core, Red June, and Maiden Blush or Lady Gregory. The plums were Green Gages.” Mr. Lamon’s gardens and orchard were of interest and pleasure to the tourist. In the book, To San Francisco and Back, by a London Parson, the author says (pp, 97-98): “There is but little cultivation in the Valley. One enterprising man had planted a spot with vegetables, and pear, apple, plum, and peach trees. Where he found a market for their produce it was hard to say, unless, as is possible, he relied upon selling to visitors what he could not eat. His orchard had no fence, and he himself was not to be found when we paid it a visit. Outside a little hut, however, close by, was a paper with the following notice: ‘Anyone helping himself to a mess of fruit from my patch will please put 2 Bits through a hole in my door, and oblige J. C. Lamon.’ We helped ourselves liberally to peaches and apples, and complied with the request, adding a little more for the pocket fulls we took away.”

Mr. Lamon built a second and more commodious cabin on the north side of the Valley, near the Royal Arches, where he obtained the maximum of sunlight and warmth. This was his home; here he lived a busy and contented life, and here he died.

In 1864, through an Act of Congress, Yosemite Valley and the Mariposa Grove of Big Trees became a state park. The Act was approved by the California Legislature in 1866 and the Commissioners advised Mr. Lamon that henceforth there could be no privately owned land in the park and that he must lease his premises from the Board of Commissioners. That he should lease land that had been his by preemption for seven years, seemed for a time impossible to Mr. Lamon. After trying for five years to substantiate his claim he presented to the State Legislature the following memorial: (Commissioners’ Report, 1870. Being a Message of the Commissioners of Governor H. H. Haight transmitting the report of the Yosemite Commissioners and the Memorial of J. C. Lamon.)

“Yosemite Valley, December 4th, 1869.

“To the Honorable Senate and Assembly of California:

“Your memorialist would respectfully represent that he is a citizen of the United States of America, of the State of California, and of the County of Mariposa. And your memorialist would further represent, that in the year one thousand eight hundred and fifty-nine, he settled in and became a resident in the Yosemite Valley, in the aforesaid County of Mariposa, and that at that time he purchased claim there of certain persons who had taken them up under what is known as the ‘Settlers Act’ of the State of California.

“And your memorialist would further represent, that he went to work making improvements in good faith, believing that he would eventually be allowed a pre-emption or homestead right to the land upon which his improvements were located, by the United States Government; and that he has from year to year, and constantly, up to the present time, labored industriously making improvements, enduring great privations and hardships for many years, being fifty miles up in Sierra Nevada Mountains from the nearest town or Post-office.

“And your memorialist would further represent, that in the year provements consist of houses to live in and a barn, of fences, and a very fine garden; of large patches of various kinds of berries, such as strawberries, raspberries, blackberries and others. Also, of two large and very fine orchards of fruit trees, now beginning to bear abundantly, being of the very choicest selection of grafted fruit, consisting of apples, pears, peaches, plums, nectarines, almonds, etc. , over one thousand trees altogether; all of which have been transplanted and cultivated with the greatest care and labor, in thoroughly and deeply preparing the ground, and constant cultivation.

“And your memorialist would further represent that all these various improvements, which have cost him ten years constant hard labor, together with considerable hired labor, he believes at this time to be worth at least twelve thousand dollars.”

“And your memorialist would further represent, that in the year one thousand eight hundred and sixty-four the Yosemite Valley was, by an Act of Congress, granted and ceded to the State of California, on condition that it should be held forever inalienable as a place of public resort and recreation, and that the State of California has, by an Act of her Legislature, accepted the grant upon and in accordance with the stipulations named, and has appointed a Board of Commissioners to take charge of the Yosemite Valley, with full powers to possess it and manage all matters pertaining to the same.

“And your memorialist would further represent, that the Commissioners appointed to take charge of the Valley have brought suit of ejectment against him, to dispossess him of his various improvements, which suit is now pending against him, and still undecided.

“And your memorialist would further represent, that if said suit should be decided against him, it would deprive him of all his earthly possessions and leave him in poverty and in debt.

“And your memorialist would further represent, that if he can be paid for his various improvements, according to their full value, by the State of California, he would be willing to vacate the premises and give possession of all his improvements to the Commissioners appointed to take charge of the same.

“Therefore, your memorialist would most re[s]pectfully ask that the State of California would pay him the full value of his possessions, that he may not be utterly impoverished.

“And your memorialist would ever pray.

“J. C. Lamon

“Witness:

“Galen Clark
“Fred Leidig”

The State Legislature, in the fall of 1874, accepted the terms of the memorial and paid Mr. Lamon twelve thousand dollars. He went to Oregon to visit a sister he had not seen for thirty-five years. Her children were a great joy to him and he was loathe to leave, but the log cabin was home, and he returned to Yosemite and leased from the commission the tract he had developed into gardens and orchards. A sapling may be transplanted; a man nearing sixty is not easily uprooted.

In the spring of 1875 Mr. Lamon became ill. Mrs. J. M. Hutchings and her mother cared for him in his fatal struggle with pneumonia. He died May 22, 1875. His executor was his friend, Galen Clark. Gertrude Hutchings Mills attended the funeral. She says: “I was lifted up to see Mr. Lamon ‘asleep’ in his pine box and I struggled to get away before I should awaken him.”

The Sacramento Record-Union, May 24, 1875, says: “It was a fitting day, time, and place for his burial—the Sabbath. . . . We went up the river banks and culled a basket frill of sweet, white azaleas and made a wreath and a cross to place on the coffin. It was an imposing scene—a procession of over a hundred people, gathered from all lands, and many Indians, most of them on horseback, winding up to the new made grave under the oak by the shining wall. Two clergymen read the beautiful service as he was laid to rest.”

The Mariposa County Gazette of Saturday, May 29, 1875 recorded: “Another pioneer gone. John [James] C. Lamon. One of the oldest settlers in this county, and long a resident of Yosemite Valley, died at that place on Saturday last. He was eccentric in his habits, but the very soul of honesty and good feeling. As an instance of this, some years since he became involved, and liquidated his debts at the rate of fifty cents on the dollar. Afterward he recuperated, and paid off every cent of his indebtedness. . . .” These few lines are a rare tribute in the evaluation of eternal qualities. The quiet, retiring life of James C. Lamon radiated righteousness and kindliness throughout its days. The essence of his simple life and kindly spirit will eternally live in the Yosemite Valley.

The following appeared in the Youths Companion in 1875:

THE PIONEER OF YOSEMITE

One June day last summer our little party dismounted from their horses at the toll-house near Register Rock. As three forlorn-looking females sauntered into the room, there rose from his seat by the fire a tall, straight, loose-jointed man, with grizzled hair and beard, a sparkling, pleasant eye, and a friendly face every line of which bespoke us welcome.

“This is Mr. Lamon, the pioneer of Yosemite,” said our guide, and we all shook hands. . . .

He was a wayfarer like ourselves, and had stopped on his way to “Snow’s,” so we pressed him to wait until our party had also rested, and then go on with us.

As we sat around the roaring fire (Register Rock is a cool, damp place even in the middle of June) we heard much Yosemite lore told with the pleasantest voice and in the quaintest way in the world. He first settled there in 1859, when he built the old log cabin which still stands like a monument of his lonely life, although no longer occupied as a residence.

At that time visitors to the Valley were few, and there was no one to dispute him when he staked out his claim, planted his orchard, and cultivated his little garden. For five [two] winters he lived alone, never seeing a human face other than those of the Indians. . . who are the most unabashed, unblushing thieves in the world, and as beggars have no rivals, while treachery and murder sits as lightly upon their consciences as down upon glass. Mr. Lamon had many a story to tell. . . . One day as he was returning from a day’s hunt, shot-gun in hand and fat venison on his shoulder, he met a stalwart red man and his squaw, the latter staggering along with a heavy basket. The snow lay thick upon the ground, and all his winter’s stock of flour had been left in his unguarded castle, so it behooved the pioneer to be somewhat suspicious, egress from the Valley being impossible save upon snow-shoes.

The stalwart red man was about to pass him by with a gruff grunt, but Mr. Lamon stopped him and said, with a significant gesture at the huge basket.

“What squaw got?”

“Nothing,” was the red man’s unblushing reply, as he attempted to stride past.

“O yes!” said our friend, shifting his shot-gun in a way that caused the cautious red man to pause.

“What squaw got?”

“Fish,” was the response. “Me catches um.”

“Go by my house?” was the next question.

The red man indignantly denied having been near his house. . . . The pioneer asked more questions, with the design of entrapping his friend into making some damaging admission, but without effect; the red man gesticulated, and grew more and more indignant . . . while the squaw shook her head and said, “No, no.” Finally the pioneer said:

“Well, me look”

The red man would have objected, but the shot-gun held him in check, and when the cover was lifted, lo, the great basket was full to the brim with flour! The red man neither blushed nor faltered, but said, grunting:

“You no business leave door unlocked.”

“And what did you do?” we asked breathlessly.

“Oh, I gave them half of it, and took the other half home. I thought I could get along,” he said.

Another story was more tragic.

One day toward dusk, in the depth of winter, a solitary white man passed Mr. Lamon’s cabin. He had not even seen an Indian for over two months, and we can guess how cordially he greeted him, and hospitably urged him to stay over night in his humble home.

The man came in and rested for a few moments, but said he would rather push on; that he was a miner, and had taken the Valley in on his way back to Mariposa, because it was his last chance to see it. He was going “home,” “way down East,” to see his wife and children. He had made his pile he said: it wasn’t very big, but it was big enough for him. He was satisfied.

Mr. Lamon suggested Indians, he had seen a lot skulking about a day or two before, but the miner laughed, and pointed to his shot-gun, and pulled out his pistol, and asked if he had ever seen an Indian that wasn’t a coward.

The pioneer spoke of the deep snow, and the night that had already crept into the Valley, but the miner said he knew the trail well, and there was a good moon, and he had no fear, so he bade his entertainer good-by and trudged away cheerfully enough.

That night it snowed, and the next day and the next night; but the day after the sun came out and shone brightly all day. As dusk came on Mr. Lamon heard sounds like human voices and he saw five or six men coming toward his cabin. They cheered when they saw him and tears filled their eyes as they shook his hand. Some Indians having plenty of gold dust, a silver watch, a pistol, and a shot-gun, were placed in jail. One of them acknowledged they had murdered a lonely miner “who had made his pile” and was “going home.” And, said Mr. Lamon, he did go home, poor fellow. I found his body the next summer when the snow had melted off, and I dug a grave and buried him. No one ever knew his name. . . . He took us through his garden, bewailing that ripe strawberries were so few, and took us into his apple-house, sweet-scented with hay and fruit. I shall never forget his fastidious care in selecting fruit for the ladies, nor his hearty, laugh when our “Violet” modestly inquired why he did not have a “Lamon-ade” to sweeten life’s cup.

Last May he was taken sick with pneumonia and after an illness of a few days he died. They buried him appropriately at the foot of the beautiful Yosemite Falls, in that wonderful valley, whose glory, and grandeur, and loveliness, and peace had left its impress on his soul.

JAMES MASON HUTCHINGS

Photograph by Thos. Houseworth

JAMES MASON HUTCHINGS

Chapter 3: James Mason Hutchings • 1820-1902

n the old cemetery in Yosemite Valley a large, rough, granite rock bears the inscription: “Pioneer of Yosemite.” The marble headstone reads: “In memory of J. M. H. , Pioneer, Patriot. February 10, 1818-October 31, 1902.”

In a letter Gertrude Hutchings Mills states: “My father was born February 10, 1820 in the little village of Towcester, Northhamptonshire, England. His mother, Barbara Mason Hutchings, was fifty-two years old when he, the youngest of a large family of children, was born. His father, William Hutchings, was a carpenter and cabinet maker, and my father learned that trade. In 1848 he left England for America and in 1849 crossed the plains and located in California.”

Yosemite Valley was discovered in 1851 by the Mariposa Battalion sent to capture the Yosemite Indians. Little information about the Valley reached the press. One bit of description attracted attention —“a waterfall nearly a thousand feet high.” Here was something different from the rest of the known world; here was the magnet that should later draw the world. James Mason Hutchings, living in San Francisco, contemplated the publication of a magazine, the California Monthly, and treasured the newspaper scrap containing the startling statement. To see that waterfall and other wonderful scenes would supply him with priceless material for his publishing venture. It would be a hazardous trip to Yosemite but he determined to go. He made inquiry of the soldiers who had been there concerning the route but not one could give him directions. They had gone to capture the Indians; the scenes and trails had made little impression.

Two Yosemite Indians were secured as guides. With Thomas Ayres, the well known San Francisco artist to make drawings for the contemplated magazine, and three additional friends, Hutchings and his party left Mariposa in late June, 1855.* [*Heart of Sierra, 1886, p. 92, Hutchings says: “It is by no means claimed that ours was the first party making the trip there” [to Yosemite Valley].] On the afternoon of the third day the party arrived at Inspiration Point, and Thomas Ayres, on June 20, 1855 sketched the first picture ever made of Yosemite. [Editor’s note: the correct date is June 27, 1855.—dea]

It was night when the party reached the floor of the Valley; they unrolled their blankets and slept at the foot of the Indian trail and awoke to a memorable day. Not far away Pohono, from great heights, was daintily pouring it waters and refreshing the valley as it had been doing for centuries. Gazing upon this wind blown stream of falling water the party named it “Bridal Veil Falls.” The name is full of sentiment but it is a loss to the world that Pohono, so full of meaning revealing the superstitions and imaginings characteristic of the Indian mind, was not retained. Setting out to explore the Valley, the party came to an open meadow and the “water-fall nearly a thousand feet high” suddenly became a reality and more, for Yosemite Falls is 2,526 feet high. Mr. Hutchings and his party spent five days in the Valley. On his return many were eager to hear of the experiences and scenes of the journey and he wrote an article published in the Mariposa Gazette in July, 1855. Leading newspapers of the time copied the article and Yosemite was made known to the world. Mr. Hutchings says: “In October, 1855 was published a lithographic view of Yosemite Falls (then called Yo-Ham-i-te) from a sketch taken for the writer by Mr. Thomas Ayres in the preceding June, which was the first pictorial representation of any scene in the great Valley ever given to the public.”

The first number of the California Monthly was published in San Francisco in July, 1856. The leading article was on Yosemite and the sketch made the summer before by Thomas Ayres accompanied it. After five years the California Monthly was discontinued due to Mr. Hutchings’ impaired health. His physician advised him to live in the out of doors and he at once thought of Yosemite. In January, 1862, he attempted to enter the Valley to ascertain whether it was habitable all through the year but failed on account of heavy floods. In the second attempt, made in March of the same year, he was accompanied by James C. Lamon and Galen Clark. The trail was completely covered by snow two to ten feet deep. When his companions felt they could go no farther, they advised Hutchings to return until the snow should melt, but he determined to keep on alone. There is enviable fiber in a man who pushes forward alone to the hoped-for goal, facing hunger, exhaustion, and death, in the trackless snows of the Sierra. Six days in the deep snows, making scarcely a mile a day, breaking through the crust and literally climbing out again, used up his last ounce of strength. Weariness and fatigue made it impossible to proceed. He dropped his pack and sat down upon it, “to write a few lines to the dear ones at home—possibly the last.” The day was at its close. The sky was gloomy and threatening. His head was bowed on his knees and the end seemed at hand. Such moments try the souls of men.

The weary traveler looked up. The clouds were lifting and the sky was growing clear. Natural features became definitely outlined. Could it be that he was sitting on the granite walls of Yosemite? Below was the Merced winding its way through green meadows, and there was no more snow! Despair changed to unbounded joy; the goal lay before him; his weariness became strength; and he descended into the Valley. Courage and perseverance were crowned with success.

The following summer, 1863, Mr. Hutchings bought the two-story frame building in Yosemite that had not proved successful as a tourist hotel; he would make it successful. Each story, sixty-by-twenty feet, was without partitions and the doors and windows were of cotton cloth. In the spring of 1864 he packed in all their household goods, fifty miles on mule back, over the trail that later became the Coulterville road. The family took up its residence April 20, 1864, and the two-story frame building was henceforth known as The Hutchings House. When tourists arrived the “ladies” were given the upstairs—the men the downstairs, but this was not Mr. Hutchings’ idea of a hotel and he determined to make improvements. For immediate use he packed in bolts of muslin and with it he partitioned off rooms giving some degree of privacy. The house accommodated twenty-eight people but a few additional ones could always be sheltered. One night, when all had retired and every bed was occupied, twenty-nine additional guests arrived. Mr. Hutchings was a genial host. Not only did he feed this hungry party at that late hour but also lodged every one of them. A newly arrived bale of blankets kept them warm and floor space sufficed for beds.

In the autumn of 1865 Mr. Hutchings packed in a saw mill and improvements soon followed. A porch across the front, a sitting room at the rear, and permanent partitions added greatly to the comfort and appearance of The Hutchings House. The sitting room, built around a large Incense cedar (Libocedrus decurrens), became known as The Big Tree Room. In the Souvenir of California, 1894, Mr. Hutchings says: “This cedar, 175 feet high, was standing there when the room was planned. I had not the heart to cut it down, so I fenced it in, or rather, built around it . . . the base of the tree, eight feet in diameter, is an ever present guest in that sitting room. . . . The large, open fireplace was built with my own hands. . . . Travelers from all climes and countries welcomed the sheltering comfort and blazing log fire of this room.”

The Big Tree Room with its great fireplace, built in 1866, may be seen today. Nearby stands Cedar Cottage, the oldest building in Yosemite, with its whip-sawed timbers. In 1864 Mr. Hutchings preempted 160 acres extending from The Hutchings House across the Merced to the foot of Yosemite Falls. To get the maximum warmth and sunlight during the winter months a site near Yosemite Falls was selected where, in 1865, he built the log cabin that was his home for many years.

Mr. Hutchings was hospitable and his cabin, with its comfortable living room and great fireplace, was known to thousands of tourists. Canon Kingsley wrote thus: “Of all the homes that I have seen, in all my travels, this is the most delectable.” Hutchings loved Yosemite and the surrounding country and lost no time in making it known to the world. The San Francisco Chronicle of November 1, 1902 says: “So rapidly did tourist travel increase that in 1872 when he [Hutchings] surrendered his possessions to the state he had 109 saddle animals for tourist use on the trails and over the floor of the Valley.”

In the spring, following the completion of the log cabin, he fenced in a five-acre plot for an orchard. In the Heart of Sierras, 1886, on page 142, he says: “Many of the trees were grown from seeds of choice apples that had been sent to us, the plants from which were afterwards budded or grafted. In this way a thrifty orchard, of about one hundred and fifty trees came into being and now bears many tons annually of assorted fruit.” In her letter of October, 1930, Gertrude Hutchings Mills says: “The orchard was a short distance below the old saw mill near the foot of Yosemite Falls. . . . An irrigating ditch carried water to the barn and side ditches watered the vegetable garden. We had a variety of apples; I remember well Spitzenberg, Winesap, King, Rhode Island Greenings, and Northern Spy. A wormy apple was unknown. We had Bartlett and Sichel pear trees, also a few peaches and nectarines.”

The strawberry patch, obtained after much effort and great discouragement, was famous for its quantity and quality of fruit. Mr. Hutchings sent for a much advertised variety called “British Queen” and the plants were shipped by Panama. The first order was dried up and dead when it arrived. The second order rotted from too much moisture. The mail bag containing the third order had been so close to the steamship’s funnel that the bag was nearly burned and the plants were entirely destroyed. From the fourth order thirteen small roots were obtained. These cost Mr. Hutchings $45 but they soon increased to thousands and many of the largest plants produced nearly two hundred berries each.

In Mr. Hutchings and his family, the Indians found friends. Gertrude Hutchings Mills says: “The Indians were my good friends from babyhood. Among them were Dick, Mary, Jim, Bill, Lucy, Sally Ann, and our own Tom Hutchings. On leaving Yosemite my father adopted seed gathering as a side industry. He sent seeds of the Sierra trees and shrubs to Thomas Meecham of Philadelphia and also to Veitch of England. Tom was my father’s invaluable aide in this industry.” In the price list the seed of the Sequoia gigantea was quoted at $12 per pound; the Sequoia sempervirens, at $4 per pound.

When Yosemite Valley and the Mariposa Grove of Big Trees became a state park in 1864, Mr. Hutchings was seriously affected. According to the grant there could be no privately owned land in the park. He had paid $400 in gold for 160 acres which he cultivated and planted to gardens and orchards; he had built his barn and house, and Yosemite was home. In 1874 the State of California paid Mr. Hutchings $24,000 for his buildings and improvements, and in return he relinquished his claim. His premises were leased to John K. Barnard and The Hutchings House became the Barnard Hotel. From 1880 to 1883 Hutchings held the office of “Guardian of the Valley.”

Besides the California Monthly, Mr. Hutchings published several books and pamphlets. Best known are Scenes of Wonder and Curiosity in California, 267 pages, published in San Francisco, 1862, and In the Heart of the Sierras, 496 pages, published at the Old Cabin, Yosemite Valley, 1886. His last publication was Summer Rambles, probably in 1893, as the cover carried, “Don’t go to the World’s Fair, go to Yosemite.” Miner’s Ten Commandments was first published in the Placerville Herald in 1853; later it was put into letter-sheet form and ninety-seven thousand were sold in a little over a year.
The Miner’s Ten Commandments as written by Mr. Hutchings follow:

THE MINER’S TEN COMMANDMENTS

A Man Spake these Words, and Said:

I am a miner, who wandered from “away down East,” and came to sojourn in a strange land, and “see the elephant.” And behold I saw him, and can bear witness, that from the key of his trunk to the end of his tail, his whole body has passed before me: and lo! I followed him, until his huge feet stood still before a clap-board shanty, then with his trunk extended, he pointed to a candle-card tacked upon a shingle, as though he would say, “READ!” and I read:

I

Thou shalt have no other claim than one.

II

Thou shalt not make unto thyself any false claim, nor any likeness to a mean man by jumping one; whatsoever thou findest on the top above, or on the rock beneath, or in the crevice underneath the rock; for, if thou doest, I shall surely visit the miners around, and tell them what thou hast done, and should they decide against thee, thou shalt take thy pick-axe and thy pan, thy shovel, and thy blankets, with all thou hast, and “go prospecting” for “new diggings,” but thou shalt find none. Then, when in sorrow and despair thou returnest to thy old claim, thou shalt find it all worked out, and yet no “pile” made for thee, that thou mightest bury it in the ground, or hide it in an old boot beneath thy bunk, or in buckskin or bottle beneath thy cabin floor. Besides this, thou shalt discover that all thou hadst in thy purse has quietly drifted away; that thy boots and thy garments have been worn out, so that there is nothing good about them but the pockets, and thy patience will be like unto thy garments; and, as a last resort, thou shall hire thy body out to make thy board and save thy worthless bacon.

III

Thou shalt not go prospecting before thy claim gives out. Neither shalt thou take thy money nor thy gold dust, nor thy good name, to the gambling-table in vain; for “monte,” “Roulette,” “twenty-one,” “faro,” “lansquenet,” “poker,” or any other games will conclusively prove to thee that the more thou puttest down, the less thou shalt take up; and when thou thinkest of the gray hairs that thou art bringing “in sorrow to the grave,” of the home thou hast disgraced, of family and friends thou hast wronged, thou shalt ask thyself, “Verily am I not a simpleton of the first water?”

IV

Thou shalt not remember what thy friends do at home on the Sabbath Day, lest the remembrance should not compare favorably with what thou doest here; for well thou knowest that on that day thou washest all thy dirty clothes, darnest all thy stockings, patchest up thy nether garments, dost tap thy boots, chop thy whole week’s fire-wood, make up and bake thy bread and boil thy pork and beans, that thou wait not when at night thou returnest from thy labors weary. But, alas! thou rememberest not that for six days thou mayest dig, or pick, or wash, all that thy body can stand under; by which, if thou art careful, thou canst not wear out thy body in two years, but if thou workest hard on Sunday also thou canst do it in six months; and thou and thy wife, thy son and thy daughter, thy male friend and thy female friend, thy morals and thy conscience, be none the better for it: and thou shalt try to justify thyself because the trader and the black-smith, the carpenter and the merchant, the tailor and cheap-john huckster, the gamblers and buccaneers, defy God, religion and civilization by keeping not the Sabbath Day, such as memory, youth, and home, made hallowed.

V

Thou shalt not think more of gold, and how thou canst make it fastest, than of how thou art likely to enjoy it, after thou hast ridden rough-shod over all thy good old parents’ precepts and examples; that thou mayest have nothing to reprove and sting thee, when thou art left ALONE in the land to which thy mother’s love and father’s blessing hath unswervingly followed thee.

VI

Thou shalt not ruin thy health nor kill thy body, by working in the rain, even though thou shouldst make enough thereby to buy physic and attendance with. Neither shalt thou destroy thy self by getting “tight,” nor “high,” nor “stewed,” nor “corned,” nor “half seas over,” nor “three sheets in the wind,” by drinking smoothly down, “brandy slings,” “gin cocktails,” “whiskey punches,” “rum toddies,” nor “egg nogs,” neither shalt thou suck “mint juleps,” nor “sherry cobblers,” through a straw; nor take it “neat” from a decanter, nor guzzle “lager beer” or “half and half” until thou art like a swine; in as much as while thou art swallowing down thy purse, and thy coat from off thy back, thou art burning it from off thy stomach, beside devouring thine own and others’ heritages. And if thou couldst see the houses and lands, with piles of gold and silver thou hast gobbled up, and the home comforts thou hast sacrificed and wasted, thou shouldst feel a choking in thy throat; and when to these thou addest thy crooked walkings, and thy hic-hiccuping talkings, of lodgings in the gutter, of broilings in the sun, of prospect holes half full of mud and water, and of shafts and ditches from which thou hast emerged like a drowning rat, thou shalt feel disgusted with thy self and all such reminiscences, and enquire: “Is thy servant a dog that he doeth these things?” Surely, then, thou wilt be tempted to say: “Farewell, old bottle, I will kiss thy whiskey-moistened lips no more. And thou, slings, cocktails, punches, toddies, nogs, juleps, and sangarees, forever farewell. Thy remembrance shames me; henceforth, therefore, ‘I cut thy acquaintance,’ and with thee, headaches, tremblings, heart burnings, blue devils, and all the unholy catalogue of evils that follow in thy train. My wife’s welcoming smile and kiss, and my children’s merry-hearted laugh, shall charm and reward me for having the manly courage, at all times, and under every kind of circumstances, to say ‘NO’. Strong drink, comest thou in any form or garb, I wish thee an eternal farewell.”

VII

Thou shalt not grow discouraged because thou hast not made thy “pile,” nor think of going home for not having “struck a lead,” nor “found a rich crevice,” nor “sunk a hole upon a pocket,” lest in going home thou shalt leave three or four dollars a day, and there go to work, ashamed, at fifty cents—and serve thee right—for, as thou well knowest, sooner or later here thou tightest strike “pay dirt” in some shape, keep thy self-respect, and then seek home to make thy self and others happy.

VIII

Thou shalt not steal a pick, or a shovel, or a pan from thy fellow miner; nor take away his tools without his leave; nor borrow those he cannot spare; nor return them broken; nor trouble him to fetch them back again when he needs their use. Neither shalt thou spin long yarns to him while his water rent is running on; nor remove his stakes to enlarge thy claim; nor undermine his bank in following a lead; nor pan out gold from his riffle-box; nor wash the tailings from his sluice’s mouth. Neither shalt thou take specimens from the company’s pan and put them into thy mouth, until thou canst, unseen, transfer them to thy purse; nor cheat thy partner of the smallest portion of his fair share; nor steal from thy cabin-mate his gold dust to add it unto thine; for in any one or all of these things he will be sure to discover what thou hast done, when he will straightway call “a miners’ meeting,” and if the law hinder them not, they will hang thee; or give thee fifty lashes, accompanied with the ejaculation “vamose”; or they will shave thy head and brand thee like a horse-thief, with R burned in upon thy cheek, to be known and read of all men— Californians in particular.

IX

Thou shalt not tell any false tales about “good diggings in the mountains” to thy neighbor, that thou mayest benefit a friend who hath mules, and provisions, and tools, and blankets he could not otherwise sell; lest, after thus deceiving thy neighbor, when he returneth through the snow, with naught left him but his rifle, he present thee with the leaden contents thereof, and, like a dog, thou shalt fall down and die; when public opinion expressed upon the case would be, “served him right.”

X

Thou shalt not commit “unsuitable matrimony,” not covet “single blessedness;” nor forget “absent maidens;” nor neglect thy “first love,” knowing how patiently, and faithfully, aye longingly, she watchingly waiteth thy return, yea, and covereth every epistle that thou sendeth her with kisses—until she hath thyself. Neither shalt thou covet thy neighbor’s wife nor by presents or attentions steal away her heart-love from him, nor trifle with the affections of his daughter; yet, if thy heart be free, and thou lovest and covetest each other, thou shalt “pop the question” like a man, lest another more manly than thou art should step in before thee, and thence forward thou love her in vain; and in the anguish of thy heart’s disappointment thou shouldst regretfully express thyself thus: “Verily, such is life!” and thy future lot be that of a poor, crusty, lonely, despised and comfortless old bachelor.

“A new Commandment giveth I unto Thee.”

If thou hast a wife and little ones that thou lovest dearer than thine own life, thou shalt keep them constantly before thee, to nerve and prompt thee to every noble effort, until thou canst say, “Thank God I have enough. I will return to them.” Then as thou journeyest toward thy much-loved home and precious ones, ere thou hast crossed the blessed threshold, they shall welcome thee with kisses, and, falling upon thy neck, weep tears of unutterable joy that thou art come.

So mote it be.

Mr. Hutchings was thoroughly familiar with the stage routes as well as the surrounding country of the Sierra. He liked to take tourists over the route which led through the Tuolumne Grove where one could see the first tunnel cut through a Big Tree, in 1878. The “Dead Giant,” as the tree is known, is barked ninety feet from the ground and stands a ghastly specter among the living trees of the forest. There was also an unusual sight in the Calaveras Grove. A Big Tree, twenty-five feet in diameter, was stumped five and a half feet above ground; a roof was built over it and a stairway led to the top of the stump which was used for dancing parties, lectures, and religious services. On July Fourth, 1854, Mr. Hutchings was one of thirty-two persons who had at one time “skipped the light fantastic toe” in quadrille on this stump with seventeen bystanders looking on and no one was crowded. The route also led through Sonora. In the Souvenir of California, 1894, p. 41, Mr. Hutchings says: “Sonora is one of the prettiest mining towns, and one that has never been excelled for its rich gold deposits, not only in its placer mines, but also in its quartz ledges. Over one thousand pounds of gold were taken from the Bonanza ledge in six days, but a few years ago. At Vallacinto I once saw a nugget of gold taken out, shaped like a beef’s kidney, that weighed 26 pounds, 2 ounces.”

Mr. Hutchings, fond of people whether personal guests or tourists, entertained many whose names stood high in science, art, literature, and political life. When B. F. Taylor was a guest in the cabin and came to know Florence, the beautiful and attractive daughter of the family, he suggested that one of the peaks of the Sierra be named “Mount Florence” in her honor. This same author gives the following word picture of James Mason Hutchings (Between the Gates, 1878): “A man of culture, he is an enthusiastic lover of the region wherein he has passed so many years. Tall, spare, made of whipcord and grit, he is a revised and improved edition of Cooper’s Leather Stocking. His gray hair does not suggest age, but like a horse iron-gray, means endurance.”

Even after he relinquished his claim, Yosemite remained home to Mr Hutchings. When his daughter Florence, the first white child born in Yosemite, died September 26, 1881, her funeral service was held in the Big Tree Room of the former Hutchings House and burial was in Yosemite. Six weeks later A[u]gusta L. Hutchings died after only a few hours illness and again the funeral service was held in the Big Tree Room. Her grave is by the side of Florence’s. The pioneer was sadly bereft by the loss of his daughter and his devoted wife and companion, who had been his inspiration since the early childhood of his three children. He describes her in these words: “Think what a wife should be, and she was that.” Mr. Hutchings now devoted much of his time to writing. It was in the beloved old cabin that he wrote In the Heart of the Sierras. Emily A. Hutchings was his devoted wife and companion in the autumn of his life. The years passed but Mr. Hutchings did not grow old. He was strong and vigorous when like a thunderbolt out of a clear sky death struck him down at the age of 82 years.

The San Francisco Chronicle of Sunday, November 2, 1902, carried the headlines: “Fatal accident to Father of Yosemite, James Mason Hutchings, victim of a runaway. The Pioneer writer popularized the Valley. Yosemite, November 1, 1902, J. M. Hutchings . . . met with a tragic death last evening on the Oak Flat road about 500 yards above where that road intersects the floor of the Valley. . . . Mrs. Hutchings says that one of the horses shied . . . and jumped over the wagon tongue and started to run. . . . The wagon struck the side of a large rock and Mrs. Hutchings was thrown from the wagon. About twenty feet farther down Mr. Hutchings was thrown head first on a pile of rocks and expired within five minutes. . . . The remains were brought to the Big Tree Room.”

In a letter Mrs. Emily A. Hutchings says: “From the moment the sad accident was known, the greatest sympathy and kindness were shown, loving hands gave reverent aid, and on Sunday, November 2, 1902, my dear husband was borne from the Big Tree Room and its time-honored memories. The residents of the Valley and many of the Indians, who had long known him, followed. We laid him to rest, surrounded by nature in her most glorious garb, and under the peaks and domes he had loved so well and had explored so fearlessly.”

As a Yosemite pioneer Mr. Hutchings had wide contacts. His culture, education, and literary bent drew men of note to him, and his genial personality made his approachable and interesting to all. His enthu[s]iasm for Yosemite—the spot he loved above all others— increased unceasingly until death suddenly took him at the age of 82 years.

GALEN CLARK

Photograph by Taber

GALEN CLARK

Chapter 4: Galen Clark • 1814-1910

“GUARDIAN OF YOSEMITE”

he pioneers of Yosemite are an intimate and interesting part of its history. Galen Clark, “Guardian of Yosemite,” came to California in 1853, two years after the discovery of Yosemite Valley. For fifty-seven years he was closely connected with the Valley and adjacent region. In the family record book owned by his nephew, L. L. McCoy, there is written in Galen Clark’s own hand: “Galen Clark was born March 28th, 1814. A native of Dublin, New Hampshire.” The following data are from letters and interviews with his nephews, L. L. McCoy and A. M. McCoy, both of Red Bluff, California. In 1836 Galen Clark settled in Waterloo, Missouri. He was a cabinet maker by trade. Some years ago when Mr. Clark was visiting in the home of L. L. McCoy he looked at a chair with hickory bark bottom and remarked, “I made that set of six chairs for your grandfather, Joseph McCoy, in Waterloo, Missouri, in the winter of 1836-37.” In 1839 Mr. Clark married Rebecca McCoy, daughter of Joseph McCoy. He lived in Missouri until 1845 when, with his wife and three children, he moved to Philadelphia. There, in 1848, his wife died, leaving an infant son nine days old.

Mr. Clark took his children, three boys and two girls, to relatives in Massachusetts, where they grew up and were educated. His oldest son, Joseph, was killed in the Civil War. The second son, Alonzo, graduated from Harvard in 1870, and in 1871 came to California to be with his father who was then keeping the hotel known as Clark’s Station, now Wawona. Alonzo died in 1874 and is buried in the Mariposa cemetery. Elvira, the oldest daughter, came west to see her father in 1870 and married Dr. Lee. They lived in Oakland, California where her father, Galen Clark, died on March 24, 1910. Ruth, the youngest daughter, remained in the East. Solon, the youngest son, was drowned at the age of nine years

While Galen Clark was living in the East he heard accounts of vast fortunes made by gold miners in California and determined to see the new Eldorado. He came by way of the Isthmus of Panama and in 1854 went to Mariposa, heralded for its rich discoveries. and there engaged in mining. In August, 1855, a party of twelve or fourteen from Mariposa and Bear Valley trailed into Yosemite. Galen Clark, a member of this party, was fascinated by the Valley and the mountain region surrounding it.

When exposure of mining injured his health and hemorrhages became serious he was forced to give up the work. Mr. Clark recalled the beautiful mountain meadows he had seen on his trip into Yosemite and in the spring of 1857 he went to the South Fork of the Merced, where the Mariposa Battalion had camped in 1851. Here, in one of the loveliest mountain meadows of the High Sierra. he made his home. It was half way along the trail leading from Mariposa to Yosemite Valley.

On the spot where the Wawona Hotel now stands, he built his log cabin, crude but not without charm. It had its shelf of rare books;Yosemite pictures were on its walls; a great fireplace with an ample supply of wood on either side made it an inviting place to stay for a day or a month. Mr. Clark’s training in cabinet work proved useful in these early mountain days and Clark’s Station became a haven of rest for tourists on the long trail. As host, cook, guide, scientist, and philosopher, Mr. Clark was a rare, never-to-be-forgotten pioneer. He looked a patriarch and grew more patriarchal every year. As travel increased, the cabin was enlarged and furnished with comfortable chairs and the best of beds. Tourists marveled at the abundance of excellent food. Add to that, Mr. Clark’s interesting personality, refreshing wit, wholesome philosophy, and his knowledge of trees, flowers, and animals, and can one wonder that Clark’s Station was known far and wide?

Financially, Mr. Clark was not successful. He gave freely of himself and spared no expense for the comfort and welfare of guests. In 1870 he took Edwin Moore as a partner and the Station became Clarke and Moore’s. The extensive repairs and additions that were made were too costly for a hotel dependent solely on the summer season tourists. In 1875 Washburn Brothers took over the station and changed the name to"Wawona.” It is still a delightful, restful hotel in a charming meadow.

The out-of-door life in the mountains completely restored Mr. Clark’s health, as his ninety-six years testify. When the tourist season was over he explored the surrounding country. He became acquainted with the Indians as well as with the flora and fauna of the region. While out hunting in 1857 he discovered the Mariposa Grove of Big Trees (Sequoia gigantea). This grove contains three hundred and sixty-five trees of great size, and innumerable seedlings preparing themselves for coming generations. Mr. Clark became a recognized mountaineer of the Yosemite region. John Muir writes: “Galen Clark was the best mountaineer I ever met, and one of the kindest and most amiable of all my mountain friends. His kindness to all Yosemite visitors and mountaineers was marvelously constant and uniform. . . . He was one of the most sincere tree lovers I ever knew.”

Mr. Clark was greatly impressed by his discovery of the Big Tree Grove. He would make these unknown trees accessible to the tourist, and known to the world. He blazed a horse trail from Clark’s Station to the grove and built a cabin, known as “Galen’s Hospice,” to be used as a place to rest or to stop overnight if cold or storm should overtake the traveler. Today a replica of the cabin stands on the original location and provides a museum for the Mariposa Grove of Big Trees.

The name “Clark’s Grove” was suggested for this grove but Mr. Clark shunned publicity. His retiring, modest personality could not accept the honor and he asked that, instead, it be named Mariposa Grove of Big Trees. A tree, 240 feet high and 21 1/2 feet in diameter, the one first seen by the discoverer, is named Galen Clark. The cairn close by was built by Mr. Clark.

To advertise the road and also to give tourists the thrill of knowing the bigness of these trees, the Yosemite Stage and Turn-Pike Company, in 1880 paid the two Scribner brothers $75 to cut a tunnel 8 feet by 27 1/2 feet and high enough for stage and passengers through one of the Big Trees. The tunneled tree was appropriately named “Wawona,” which in the Miwok Indian language, means “Big Tree.”

The advertisement brought returns and the route through the Mariposa Grove became popular. Driving through a tree with the stage was an interesting and thrilling experience. The photographer saw his opportunity; when the stage was almost through the tree it stopped; the camera man took the picture; the tourist gave orders for copies; and the stage drove on, and he awaited the next stage. Above the fireplace in the Yosemite Museum hangs a picture of one of the early stages driving through the Wawona Tree. In this picture Galen Clark sits with the driver. Tourists in no small numbers drive through this tree each season. It is today in good, healthy condition. Sufficient bark and living tissue for life and growth remained after cutting the tunnel. No other tree has been so widely known as Wawona, the tunneled tree. Pictured in school-books throughout the land the memories of thousands, once school children, recall the Wawona Tree.

Four Big Trees (Sequoia gigantea) have been tunneled. The Wawona Tree in the Mariposa Grove was tunneled in 1880. The California Tree, also in the Mariposa Grove, about one hundred yards east of the Grizzly Giant, was cut about 1895. The first of the four trees to be tunneled was the Dead Giant, in the Tuolumne Grove, cut in 1878. It was stumped 90 feet from the ground and entirely barked, thereby killing it—hence the Dead Giant. It will stand for centuries, a ghastly specter. The fourth tunneled tree, known as the Pioneer, is in the Calaveras Grove, and is the only one outside the boundaries of Yosemite National Park. The Wawona Tree still makes its appeal to the tourists of today. The other three tunneled trees are all but forgotten.

Due to Mr. Clark’s interest and efforts no other grove has so many well-known trees as the Mariposa Grove. The Fallen Monarch attracts tourists in numbers as great as if it still lived and stood among its fellows. Dr. Nicholas Senn, in his book National Recreation Parks, published in 1904 (p. 145), says: “Five years ago the Monarch of the Mariposa Grove of Sequoias . . . severed his connection with the soil that had nourished him so well and long and fell helpless, crushing through the branches of his loyal neighbors.”

The Mariposa Grove must have trembled when the giant Massachusetts fell in the spring of 1927. the tree is magnificent in its repose. Fire burned away much of its base. Road-building in the early years of Yosemite cut into its roots, which are wide-spreading rather than deep, thus lessening still further its hold on the earth. The eternal law of gravity gradually overcame every hold and the great Sequoia fell.

The Clothespin Tree, the Telescope Tree, and the Three Graces are well-known and are interesting in different ways. The Mather Tree, dedicated to Stephen T. Mather, first Director of National Park Service, whose valuable service, untiring efforts, and great generosity have made every citizen of our country his debtor, is a young Sequoia with its growth, power and usefulness in the future. The tree is symbolic of the vision that Mr. Mather had for the development of our national parks.

In respect to symmetry and beauty, the Alabama Tree has a place all its own. Fire has not scarred it, wind, snow, and hail have left its branches unbroken. Beautiful in form, vibrant with life, the Alabama Tree has an alluring charm.

To many, Grizzly is the most beloved of all Big Trees. In his book, Scenes of Wonder and Curiosity in California, published in 1862, J. M. Hutchings says (p. 148): “We measured one sturdy, gnarled old fellow, which, although badly burned, and the bark almost gone so that a large portion of its original size was lost, is nevertheless, still ninety feet in circumference and which we took the liberty of naming the ‘Grizzled Giant’.” In his article"New Sequoia Forests of California,” published in Harpers Magazine, November, 1878 (vol. 57, pp. 813-827), John Muir says: “The most notable tree in the well-known Mariposa Grove is the Grizzly Giant, some thirty feet in diameter, growing on the top of a stony ridge. When this tree falls, it will make so extensive a basin by the uptearing of its huge roots, and so deep and broad a ditch by the blow of its ponderous trunk, that, even supposing that the trunk itself be speedily burned, traces of its existence will nevertheless remain patent for thousands of years. Because being on a ridge, the root hollow and trunk ditch made by its fall will not be filled up by rain washing; neither will they be obliterated by falling leaves, for leaves are constantly consumed in forest fires; and if by any chance they should not be thus consumed, the humus resulting from their decay would still indicate the fallen Sequoia by a long straight strip of special soil, and special growth to which it would give birth. . . . The General Grant, of King’s River Grove, has acquired considerable notoriety in California as the biggest tree in the world, though in reality less interesting and not so large as many others of no name. . . . A fair measurement makes it about equal to the giant . . . which it also resembles in general appearance.”

Fire and storm have left deep scars on the Grizzly Giant of the Mariposa Grove. It has a lean of twenty-four feet and the never-failing force of gravity will slowly and surely lay it down. When, no one knows.

No other pioneer was connected with Yosemite in so many ways, for so long a time, and so intimately as Galen Clark. The grant from the Federal Government setting aside Yosemite Valley and the Mariposa Grove of Big Trees for a State Park, was approved by President Lincoln, June 30, 1864. Frederick F. Low, Governor of California, appointed Galen Clark on the commission to govern these two tracts. Later he was appointed Guardian of the newly made Park. His long and valued service in this position, which he held for twenty-four years, earned for him the title “Guardian of Yosemite.” His cordial and generous hospitality, his never-failing kindness to all tourists, gradually and permanently bestowed on him the more intimate title “Beloved Man of Yosemite.”

In 1890 Yosemite became a National Park, but Galen Clark continued to make the Valley his summer home for nearly twenty years. He brought the first wagon into Yosemite Valley. Charles Tuttle, the first white boy born in Yosemite, rehearsed the sensation created by this event: “I was a boy of eight or nine years when the first wagon was brought into the Valley. Galen Clark had it packed in on mule back. I had never been out of the Valley and had never seen a wagon. Everybody was interested to see it assembled. When all was in readiness three or four days were given to celebrate the event and everybody living in the Valley had a free ride; I will never forget those days! They were wonderful!” In 1889 John Muir writes: “I find Old Galen Clark also. He looks well and is earning a living by carrying passengers about the Valley.” The old wagon is an interesting and prized relic in the Yosemite Museum.

Throughout his years Galen Clark was sought by tourists in order that they might hear the experiences and tales of this pioneer, who was not without wit and a keen sense of humor. His niece, Florence McCoy Sheffield, told the following to the writer: “Four women tourists met my Uncle Galen in Yosemite and were welcomed to his cabin. To their request to hear of his life in Yosemite he replied that he would tell them of his experiences if they would indicate what they were interested in hearing. With one accord came, “We want to hear all about everything, you just go ahead!” With a benign smile and a twinkle his eyes never lost he said: ‘I’m no artesian well, but I can be pumped. You just go ahead’.”

Galen Clark is the author of three small books, all of which were written when he was past ninety years of age: The Big Trees of California, 1907, 104 pages. Illustrated. Indians of the Yosemite Valley and Vicinity, 1904, 110 pages. Illustrations by Chris Jorgensen. The Yosemite Valley, Its History, 1910, 108 pages. Illustrated.

On the Lost Arrow Trail there is an open space that frames in the Yosemite Falls. Here is the John Muir plaque that marks the spot where once his cabin stood, and a few feet away stands the Memorial Bench that in 1911 was dedicated to Galen Clark.

When Washburn Brothers took over Clark’s Station in 1875, they gave him the freedom of their hotel for the remaining thirty-five years of his life. He was a frequent and ever welcome guest. Upon his death in Oakland at the home of his daughter, Elvira Clark Lee, on March 24, 1910, at the age of ninety-six years, Washburn Brothers asked the privilege of bearing all funeral expenses. They took the body to Yosemite where, more than twenty years before, Galen Clark had selected a burial spot in the old cemetery. In each corner he had planted a young Sequoia taken from the grove that he had discovered in 1857. In the Merced Star of April 7, 1910, we read that the girls and boys of Yosemite Valley, dressed in white, attended the funeral services in a body. Each carried a wreath of evergreen and cherry blossoms tied with purple ribbon. One by one the wreaths were laid about the casket. The pallbearers placed their boutonnieres upon the casket. The body of Galen Clark was lowered into the grave that he himself had dug a few years earlier. A rough granite boulder, upon which he had chiseled his name in 1890, is his headstone.

The many tourists interested in the pioneer days of Yosemite have worn a path to the grave of Galen Clark—“Beloved Man of Yosemite.”

JOHN MUIR

Photograph by W. E. Dassonville

JOHN MUIR

Chapter 5: John Muir

tudents and enthusiasts in one or even several fields of nature have been many. But one alone has had a passionate love for nature in every form and mood and clime. John Muir stands apart as one who saw beauty everywhere and felt a kinship and reverence for all creation. With the magic touch of his pen, and in words that can never die, he has interpreted nature with feeling and understanding as no one else has done. Muir is unique, his observations are scientifically accurate, his style is ever simple and magnetic, and from his philosophy of life there radiates a contagious atmosphere.

The family emigrated from Scotland in 1849, when Muir was eleven years old, and settled in Wisconsin, northeast of Lake Mendota. Pioneer life was rigid, full of hardship and hard work. Comforts were few, money was scarce, and schooling was limited. Muir lived this pioneer life but his Scotch ancestry bequeathed to him values greater and more lasting than money. His was the priceless inheritance of integrity, patience, courage, and perseverance. His steadfastness of purpose overcame all obstacles. In his first twelve years in America he had but two months of schooling. His father’s stern, Scottish discipline sent every member of the family to bed immediately after prayers, which was about eight o’clock. Even though John was a young man of sixteen the rule could not be changed. He usually managed to steal a few minutes to read by candlelight in the kitchen, and this happened so often that his father, in exasperation, called to him to go straight to bed and get up in the morning if he must read. Nothing could have pleased him more. Five o’clock was the hour when everyone must get up and go to work. Henceforth he got up at one o’clock and thus gained four precious hours for reading and for work on his inventions. Nothing could dim his vision of the future. His aim was the State University at Madison, a town beautifully situated on the banks of Lake Mendota. The campus was on a well-rounded hill facing the State Capitol one and a half miles east. No landscape architect could add to the natural beauty of these grounds. Muir was charmed by them, and set forth from his home determined to attend the university. He rehearsed his background and limited schooling to the acting president, who received him with kindly welcome and understanding, and after a few weeks in the preparatory department, was enrolled as a freshman in the University of Wisconsin. Here he spent four years preparing himself for the university that has no buildings and the campus of which is the world. Muir had no degree from the University of Wisconsin; he had selected only the work that would further his study of nature. When in 1869 he left Wisconsin to enter the University of Life, it was with deep feeling and tearful eyes that he bade farewell to his alma mater.

The Sierra Mountains had long lured him and he set out for the Pacific Coast. When he arrived at San Francisco, he immediately asked the way to Yosemite. A walk of a hundred and fifty miles or more offered no obstacle. He shouldered his pack and set forth. In an open space near the foot of Yosemite Falls he built his cabin. It was a picturesque spot amid the pines and cedar and cottonwood trees. Tall growing brakes and great clumps of azaleas surrounded the cabin, and the Yosemite Falls poured its waters at his door. Muir says in a letter to one of his friends: “This cabin, I think, was the handsomest building in the Valley and the most useful and convenient for a mountaineer. From Yosemite Creek, where it first gathers its beaten waters at the foot of the falls, I dug a small ditch and brought a stream into the cabin, entering at one end and flowing out the other with just enough current to allow it to sing and warble in low, sweet tones, delightful at night while I lay in bed. The floor was made of rough slabs nicely joined and embedded in the ground. In the spring, the common pteris ferns pushed up between the joints of the slabs, two of which, growing slender like climbing ferns on account of the subdued light, I trained on threads up the sides and over my window in front of my writing desk in an ornamental arch. Dainty little tree frogs occasionally climbed the ferns and made fine music in the night, and common frogs came in with the stream and helped to sing with the Hylas and the warbling, tinkling water. My bed was suspended from the rafters and lined with libocedrus plumes, altogether forming a delightful home in the glorious valley at a cost of only $3 or $4 and I was loth to leave it.” For eleven years this cabin was Muir’s home. Here he enjoyed the aloneness that such surroundings make possible and the solitude that brings wealth of life to him who knows how to use it. From this cabin he went forth for days or weeks or months at a time to explore the Sierra. His needs were few; his small pack held notebook, tea, and biscuits, but rarely a blanket. Nature provided in season, fruits, edible roots, and nuts.

Muir’s first contact with Yosemite Valley and the High Sierra completely fascinated him. Their solitude brought joy and gladness. He writes (My First Summer in Sierra, 1869, p. 61): “Oh, these vast, calm, measureless mountain days, inciting at once to work and to rest. Days in whose light everything seems equally divine, opening a thousand windows to show us God. Nevermore, however weary, should one faint by the way who gains the blessing of one mountain day.” These mountains lured him increasingly throughout his life. He traveled widely but the Sierra was his home. During his first summer in this region he herded sheep for a rancher. The money he received was no doubt acceptable but his observations on sheep grazing gave him first-hand knowledge of the destruction of plants and shrubs and mountain meadows. When later his articles on this subject appeared in papers and magazines, the nation was aroused to value and guard its Yosemite, for here was one who spoke with authority. The people as well as the government were made aware of the exploitation of their parks.

The need of money recalled Muir to his Yosemite cabin long before the snows of winter threatened. Here he replenished his purse by working at the saw mill for J. M. Hutchings. It was here that Le Conte, the elder, met Muir in August, 1870. Le Conte tells of the meeting thus: “Today to Yosemite Falls—stopped a moment at the foot of the falls, at a saw mill to make inquiries. Here found a man in rough miller’s garb, whose intelligent face and earnest, clear blue eyes excited my interest. After some conversation, discovered that it was Mr. Muir, a gentleman of whom I had heard much from Mrs. Prof Carr and others. He had also received a letter from Mrs. Carr, concerning our party, and was looking for us. . . . I urged him to go with us to Mono . . . [we] learned from Mr. Muir that he would certainly go to Mono with us. We were much delighted to hear this. Mr. Muir is a gentleman of rare intelligence. . . . A man of such intelligence tending a saw mill! —not for himself but for Mr. Hutchings. This is California!”

No place could have been more fitting for these two lovers of nature to meet than Yosemite. It was Le Conte’s first summer in the Sierra and Muir led him and his party over the trail that he had blazed the year before. That tourist guiding was neither interesting nor remunerative to Muir is easily understood; few could comprehend their guide. Muir was not a recluse, however, but responded quickly to understanding people and enjoyed their friendship. Such men as Asa Gray, Professor J. D. Butler, Ralph Waldo Emerson, and Louis Agassiz, valued the rare opportunity of his leadership and companionship. He describes his meeting with Emerson* [*Bale’s Life and Letters of John Muir, vol. I, pp. 235-255.] thus: “Emerson, Agassiz, Gray—these men influenced me more than any others. Yes, the most of my years were spent on the wild side of the continent, invisible, in the forests and mountains. These men were the first to find me and hail me as a brother. First of all, and greatest of all, came Emerson. I was then [May, 1871] living in Yosemite Valley as a convenient and grand vestibule of the Sierra from which I could make excursions into the adjacent mountains. I had not much money and was then running a saw mill that I had built to saw falling timber for cottages.

“When he came into the valley I heard the hotel people say with solemn emphasis, ‘Emerson is here.’ I was excited as I had never been excited before, and my heart throbbed as if an angel direct from heaven had alighted on the Sierran rocks. But so great was my awe and reverence, I did not dare to go to him or speak to him. . . . I wrote him a note and carried it to his hotel [Leidig’s] telling him that El Capitan and Tissiack demanded him to stay longer.

“The next day he inquired for the writer and was directed to the little saw mill. He came to the mill on horseback . . . and inquired for me. I stepped out and said, ‘I am Mr. Muir.’ . . . Then he dismounted and came into the mill. I had a study attached to the gable of the mill, overhanging the stream, into which I invited him, but it was not easy of access, being reached only by a series of sloping planks roughened by slats like a hen ladder; but he bravely climbed up and I showed him my collection of plants and sketches drawn from the surrounding mountains, which seemed to interest him greatly, and he asked many questions, pumping unconsciously.

“He came again and again, and I saw him every day while he remained in the valley, and on leaving I was invited to accompany him as far as Mariposa Grove of Big Trees. I said, ‘I’ll go, Mr. Emerson, if you will promise to camp with me in the grove. I’ll build a glorious camp fire, and the great brown boles of the giant Sequoias will be most impressively lighted up, and the night will be glorious.’ At this he became enthusiastic like a boy, his sweet perennial smile became still deeper and sweeter, and he said, ‘Yes, yes, we will camp out, camp out.’ And so next day we left Yosemite and rode twenty-five miles through the Sierra forests, the noblest on the face of the earth. . . . The colossal firs, Douglas spruce, Libocedrus and sugar pine, the kings and priests of the conifers of the earth, filled him with awe and delight.”

But Emerson did not camp out with Muir. He was in the keeping of his friends and they were afraid of the “night air” and insisted he go to his hotel in the Valley. As they mounted and rode away Emerson lingered in the rear. On the crest of the hill he stopped and turned his horse. Then took off his hat and waved a last good-bye to Muir standing alone at the edge of the grove. It was the last time that Muir saw Emerson. Muir confesses toga feeling of loneliness as Emerson disappeared from view—not the loneliness for someone to talk with, but the longing to share a joy that can find no expression in words. Emerson, he had thought, would love the mountains even as he did himself; he would be eager to spend a night amidst Sequoias lit up by a glorious camp-fire; he would be charmed by the music of the wind playing in the trees; he would enjoy nature wholly and fully as did Muir himself It was this disappointment that for the moment made him lonely.

Even if he had not been past his prime, Emerson could not have entered into the joys of nature as had Muir. Those who explore beyond the reach of others are beacons that inspire many to enter new adventures. Aloneness is the price that great men pay to stand upon the heights.

Muir’s wanderings in the Sierra were over uncharted regions, but many have followed the trail of his footsteps. His path from Yosemite to Mount Whitney, America’s highest mountain peak, has become a well-worn trail. Shortly after his death it was marked by a boulder bearing the inscription—“John Muir Trail—1917.” In the summer of’ 1933 the Sierra Club, of which John Muir was president from its organization in 1892 until his death in 1914, dedicated to his memory the recently completed shelter-hut on Muir Pass, 12,000 feet in elevation, built for the protection and safety of mountain travelers. It is constructed of flat stones and is shaped like a beehive and consists of one large room with an ample fireplace. Fifty members of the Sierra Club stood in this room at the dedication in July, 1933. A bronze plaque set into the structure of the hut bears the inscription: “To John Muir, lover of the Range of Light, this shelter was erected through the generosity of George Frederick Schwartz, 1931, Sierra Club, U. S. Forest Service.” Muir was once asked if there would be continued need of the Sierra Club. His answer seems fitting for the walls of the shelter hut. “So long as greed and wrong exist in the mountains, so long must the fight against these evils be carried on by the Sierra Club.”

Muir knew the Sierra, its glaciers and gorges, its forests, lakes, and mountain meadows. He explored the head waters of the Tuolumne and in Hetch Hetchy Valley he saw a second Yosemite not less beautiful than the first. He was quick to see the ruin that followed the grazing sheep, “hoofed locusts,” herded through the mountain meadows even to the glacier’s edge. Not only did they crop close but they uprooted plants and shrubs, changing flowering meadows into barren wastes. In denuding the mountainside the lumberman was destroying not only the trees, but was ruining in a day landscapes that nature through long ages had sculptured. Muir lived in the mountains and understood them. His cry and battle for conservation came from clear seeing and deep feeling.

His fight for the creation of a Yosemite National Park was accomplished mainly through his articles published in the Century Magazine. In 1864 the Federal Government ceded Yosemite Valley, together with a tract running a mile back from the rim, and also the Mariposa Grove of Big Trees, to the State of California. The State appropriation for the care and maintenance of the park was so limited that commissioners and guardian were underpaid—and often not paid at all. Herding, Lumbering, and Mining were carried on until the waterfalls of the Valley were threatened. The headwaters of the streams feeding the falls were not included in the State Park grant. It became a growing burden on Muir’s mind and heart that these headwaters and other mountain tracts must be set aside in a National Park if Yosemite Valley was to be preserved. In 1889, Robert Underwood Johnson, associate editor of the Century Magazine, met John Muir in San Francisco and accompanied him to Yosemite and into the Sierra. At their Soda Spring campfire, Johnson remarked that he had not seen any of the mountain meadow gardens so vividly described by Muir in the articles that had been published in the Century. Muir told him that the “hoofed locusts” not only ate everything in sight but also pulled up the roots of plants and shrubs, leaving the meadows barren. The melting snow, with no underbrush to hold it, runs in torrents in the springtime and leaves the falls dry in summer. It was obvious that if Yosemite Valley was to be preserved the State Park must be greatly enlarged and made a National Park.

Johnson* [*Remembered Yesterdays, R. U. Johnson, p. 288.] says: “I told him [Muir] if he would write for the Century two articles, the first on Treasures of Yosemite, to attract general attention, and the second on Proposed Yosemite National Park, . . . the boundaries of which he should outline . . . that I would go to Congress . . . and advocate its establishment . . . and that in my judgment it would go through. Muir . . . wrote the articles. . . . The next summer [1890], I appeared before the House Committee, a bill was drafted on the lines of Muir’s boundaries. . . . October 1, 1890, the Yosemite National Park became a fact. “It was put under military control and sheep grazing was no longer permitted within the park boundaries.

Regarding Yosemite Valley Johnson says: “The neglect of the Valley under State control had for years been a public scandal. . . . Portions of the beautiful wild undergrowth of the Valley had been turned into hay fields, so that there might be fodder for the horses that are employed in taking visitors up the trails. . . . In order that one of the little inns should have as good a vista as the State hotel, the Stoneman House, a lane had been cut to the Yosemite Falls, and the great trees thus slaughtered had been left lying where they fell.” Yosemite State Park was surrounded by Yosemite National Park; the former was under State control, the latter under Federal. Naturally, the management of these two areas was a complicated matter and the results were more and more unsatisfactory.

With other interested persons, Muir again led the fight. Johnson continues: “This fight for the better management of Yosemite went on for many years, always under the uncompromising leadership of Muir. It soon took the form of a movement for the retrocession of the Valley to the National Government. . . . Muir led the fight in California, and when the time came, went to Sacramento . . . and showed himself the most practical of politicians. . . . The bill was finally passed. . . . Writing July 16, Muir says: ‘Yes, my dear Johnson, sound the loud timbrel and let every Yosemite tree and stream rejoice! You may be sure I knew when the big bill passed. . . . You don’t know what an accomplished lobyist I’ve become under your guidance. The fight you planned by that Tuolumne campfire seventeen years ago is at last fairly, gloriously won, every enemy down derry doon’.” August 1, 1906, Headquarters for Yosemite National Park was moved from Wawona to Yosemite Valley, located on the present site of Yosemite Lodge, and was called Fort Yosemite.

Muir also led the fight to restrain San Francisco from getting its water supply from Yosemite National Park by damming the Tuolumne river at Hetch Hetchy, the “Tuolumne Yosemite,” as Muir called this valley. The bill granting water rights to San Francisco was introduced by Representative Raker and passed the House in September, 1913. Hope was centered on the Senate, and even if the Senate should pass it, great assurance was felt that the President would veto the bill. The Senate did pass the bill in December, 1913, and President Wilson signed it. Muir was downcast but he was also relieved. Writing to a friend, he said: “I’m glad the fight for the Tuolumne Yosemite is finished. It has lasted twelve years. Some compensating good must surely come from so great a loss.”

No one more zealously and untiringly championed conservation in all its aspects than did Muir, yet it is not as a conservationist that he is best known. The charming little bell-like Cassiope is known as John Muir’s White Heather. His love for mountain leas, flowering hillsides, and bloom-covered deserts made him acquainted with plants and flowers, yet we do not think of him as a botanist. Neither was he a zoologist nor ornithologist, though he knew animals and birds. His description of the saucy, daring, sprightly Douglas squirrel thrills to the core. It is at once a contribution to literature and a rare study of nature. He knew birds from early childhood and increased his acquaintance wherever he met them. His description of the water ouzel is a classic and has made this drab little bird widely known and admired. Besides, Muir was a geologist and geographer.

His observations on glaciers and erosion are valuable contributions to these fields. (Address by C. R. Van Hise, President of the University of Wisconsin, December, 1916, at the unveiling of a bust of John Muir.) President Van Hise says: “His explorations there [in Alaska] represent the most important part of his geographic work; they added much to the knowledge of the Alaskan coast. A number of important inlets were mapped, the chiefest of which is Glacier Bay. In the latter was discovered the majestic glacier which bears Muir’s name, a mighty stream, of ice, in its broadest part twenty-five miles wide and having two hundred glacial tributaries. As compared with this, the greatest Alpine glacier is a pigmy. Muir’s close observations upon the motion and work of glaciers, first the small ones of the Sierra, and later the mighty ones of Alaska, were important contributions to the knowledge of the great agents of erosion. . . . John Muir’s explorations of the Sierra and in Alaska were done alone. He had no pack train; his entire outfit he carried on his back. A sack of bread and a package of tea for food (as long as they lasted), his scientific instruments and his note books, constituted his load; . . . climbing in the mountains by one’s self, as did Muir, is one of the most exacting of the physical arts. . . . To explore glaciers alone, and especially unknown glaciers, requires agility and endurance, constant skill, steady coolness, and never-failing watchfulness. To jump innumerable crevasses, to cross those too wide to jump on ice bridges, are a severe strain upon the nerves of any man; and yet Muir . . . worked day after day alone on the vast glacier that bears his name.”

Muir traveled in Australia, New Zealand, India, Africa, Russia, Switzerland, South America, and Alaska, always as a student of nature, whose every form was to him lovely. But trees rose above all; to him they were nature’s most beautiful expression. He says of Mount Hoffman, that the traveler will find the lower slopes “plushed with chapparel rich in berries and bloom, a favorite for bears. The middle region is planted with the most superb forest of silver fir I ever beheld.”

Muir is known more widely today than ever before. His name is honored throughout the world. His spirit has thrilled and inspired and recreated thousands who have followed his trails to the mountains. Grateful appreciation has preserved his name in Muir Hut, Muir Trail, and Muir Pass, over which thousands hike each year. On the Lost Arrow trail in Yosemite Valley the spot where his cabin once stood is marked by a large boulder. The plaque bears the inscription (Our National Parks, John Muir, p. 56): “Climb the mountains and get their good tidings, Nature’s peace will flow into you as sunshine flows into trees. The winds will blow their own freshness into you and the storms their energy, while cares will drop off like autumn leaves.”

In presenting to the United States a forest of magnificent redwoods, Senator and Mrs. Kent requested that it bear the name “Muir Woods.” On the campus of the University of Wisconsin, where Muir spent his college years, a rise of ground overlooking Lake Mendota was dedicated in 1915 as Muir Knoll. In the State Historical Museum, at Madison, Wisconsin, no object attracts more interest than the almost human clock invented and constructed by John Muir in the sixties, and used by him while attending the University. At the hour set for rising it dumped its occupant out of bed. At a set time, a lever attached from the clock to his bookcase, brought a book from the shelf, placed it on the desk, opened at the lesson page, then returned it and brought down the next. A dainty butterfly in the New York Museum of Natural History is named for Muir who collected it on Mount Hoffman and sent it to Harry Edwards, who writes (Papilio, Vol. 6, p. 54): “I have named this exquisite species after my friend, John Muir, Thecla Muiri, who has frequently added rare and interesting species to my collection.” Recognition and appreciation of Muir’s life are expressed in honorary degrees conferred by colleges and universities. In 1896, Harvard conferred on him the degree of Master of Arts. The following year, 1897, the University of Wisconsin, proud of its alumnus, conferred on him her highest academic honor, the degree of Doctor of Laws. Yale, in 1911, conferred the degree of Doctor of Literature, and in 1913, the University of California conferred the degree of Doctor of Laws.

But the highest and final degree is conferred by the University of Life at no stated time or place. It is given without pomp or ceremony. All other degrees and titles become useless and fade away, as gradually and unconsciously the simple degree of Greatness is bestowed. The recipients are called Columbus, Huxley, Darwin, Linnaeus, Muir. They are the product of no school or locality. The Great belong to neither time nor place; they are universal.

As the interpreter of nature in every form and mood, Muir stands above the timberline and alone. His burning enthusiasm and the warmth and life in his expression draw all men irresistibly to , forest and mountain, waterfall and quiet stream. His descriptions of rocks and plants, of trees and animals, are lasting pictures of living individuals. Douglas squirrel, water ouzel, cassiope, silver firs and spruces—all are instinct with personality and life. “His talk about California trees and flowers was even more wonderful than his writing, and stenographers and desk-men used to invent errands to my room in order to listen to fragments of it,” says Bliss Perry, editor of the Atlantic. Today, in ever increasing numbers, men and women are following his guidance to an appreciation of the beauty and grandeur of things that are natural; they are learning to see and recognize in waters and rocks, plants and animals, storm and sunshine, the ever active forces that have made and are still making the world a never-ending story of beauty and delight. To everyone who catches something of his spirit, he interprets the mountain meadow, the roaring waterfall, and the quiet stream. Storm, wind and hail, thunder and lightning, were to him “a cordial outpouring of nature’s love.”

John Muir was born at Dunbar, Scotland, April 21, 1838. He died at Los Angeles, December 24, 1914. He is buried in the family plot on the Strenzel ranch near Martinez, California.

In 1930 the Muir Pilgrimage was inaugurated. Annually in April, the month of Muir’s birth, the federated women’s clubs of Alameda County, members of the Sierra Club, and others interested meet at the Strenzel Ranch. Under the great white-boled Eucalyptus tree standing near the entrance to the family burial lot a program is presented. Wreaths are placed upon the graves by Boy Scouts and Camp Fire Girls. Those who have walked and talked with Muir rehearse these precious hours. The presence of Muir’s oldest daughter, Mrs. Wanda Muir Hanna, adds much interest to the occasion. It is mainly through the efforts of Mrs. Linnie M. Wolfe that the pilgrimage is increasingly interesting and attractive in its program. In April, 1936 about three hundred pilgrims gathered at the Hanna Ranch near Martinez. Scotch Bag Pipers, in colorful plaids and kilts, played Scotch music and a descendant of Annie Laurie sang that favorite song. At the close of the program all join hands about the tree as they sing “Auld Lange Syne.” From the distant hills are heard the buglers’ taps. Slowly the Pilgrims depart.

Muir’s grave is a sacred spot. His spirit lives in the hearts of an ever widening number of those who are finding health and happiness in the out-of-doors where nature gives so freely from her well-springs and asks nothing in return.

Chapter 6: Building of Coulterville Road

AS RECALLED BY VIRGILIO BRUSCHI

n the summer of 1930, Virgilio Bruschi, 905 20th Street, San Diego, was a visitor at the Yosemite Museum. He has lived in San Diego many years and for twelve years was a member of the Common Council. His devotion to the city’s welfare made him a highly respected and beloved citizen. Mr. Bruschi’s early life was spent in Coulterville, and he has related to me some of his experiences, especially in connection with the construction of the Coulterville road, the first to be built into the Valley.

In 1853, Mr. Bruschi’s father, Francis Bruschi, opened a general store in Coulterville, then called Bandarita (Little Flag). Here Virgilio was born in 1858, the second of a family of twelve children, all born in Coulterville. The population of Coulterville, the second biggest mining camp in Mariposa County at that time, was about five thousand. Virgilio worked with his father as a packer. Everything used in the Valley was packed in over one of three trails, namely: by way of Crane Flat, a second by Bull Creek, Jenkins Hill, and the Merced River; the third from Mariposa by way of the South Fork. McCann’s Station at the junction of the South Fork and the Merced consisted of a store and a saloon.

In 1868, Virgilio Bruschi, with his uncle, Peter Castagnetto, a gardener, made his first trip into the Valley. Castagnetto at that time supplied all the vegetables for A. G. Black’s and Leidig’s hotels. Potatoes sold for ten cents a pound; lettuce fifteen to twenty cents a head; flour thirty pounds for six dollars. About 1868, Johnny Hennessey started a vegetable garden near El Portal, which helped greatly in supplying the hotels and also caused prices to drop.

In 1872, Dr. McClain obtained from the Government a concession to make a toll road from Coulterville via Bower Cave, Hazel Green, Myers Ranch, and the Cascades into the Valley. It was completed in 1874 without any serious accident. Francis Bruschi was agent for the Giant Powder Company, and Virgilio, aged 16, packed in all the powder that McClain used for blasting in the construction of this road. His train consisted of from four to eight mules, each carrying four powder boxes of fifty pounds per box. From Coulterville to the Valley was a trip of two days. The first night was usually spent at Crane Flat or Ferguson Mine. Crane Flat was a sheep camp where often as many as 25,000 sheep were gathered. They lambed either on the plains or along the coast.

A tollkeeper was stationed at the Cascades. Toll for a single mule was twenty-five cents; a pack mule, loaded, was fifty cents. In order to beat the toll, Virgilio Bruschi put all the aparejo on two mules just before he reached the toll gate. Thus he paid the fifty-cent toll on only two mules. The single mules went in for twenty-five cents. Boston, the tollkeeper, was killed for plunder by two Indians named Zip and Tom who were sent to San Quentin for the murder.

Virgilio Bruschi, accompanied by his brother Fred, packed in the goods of the German cabinet-maker, Adolph Sinning. On this trip there were nine mules in the train. When they came to Ferguson Mine, the mule loaded with Sinning’s tools and goods pushed the mule behind him, and both mules fell off the trail. It took half a day to get them up from the rocks. No bones were broken, but one mule was so badly injured that he was in the stable for two months. Sinning made glove and jewel boxes, canes, little tables and novelties, all showing the work of an expert craftsman. Hutchings speaks of him as a genius, a skilled workman with an artist’s instinct. The wood used in his work was selected from the Valley and vicinity.

Mr. Bruschi had another experience on the trail. This time his mule train was loaded with general supplies. One mule carried two kegs of nails, each keg weighing one hundred pounds. This mule was knocked off the trail at the Cascades near where Hutchings was later killed. The mule fell on his back among the rocks. The kegs were smashed; the nails flew in every direction; the mule, with his feet straight up in the air, lay pinned and helpless. It took several hours to free him, but, once on the trail, he seemed none the worse for the experience.

Packing had its risks. One experience impressed itself indelibly on Virgilio Bruschi’s mind. Mrs. A. G. Black, wife of the hotel keeper, wanted a parlor stove. The mule carrying it was pushed off the trail and fell upon the rocks. The cast-iron stove was broken to pieces. “I’ll never forget that,” said Mr. Bruschi, “because I had to pay for it. It cost me just $18.50.”

Mr. Bruschi also told of a big Indian celebration in 1875. To this powwow came approximately fifteen hundred Digger Indians from Bull Creek, Coulterville, Greeley Hill, Big Creek, and Sonora. There were songs, dances, games, and races. “Everything in the Valley was to come and go as you please and this included the Indians, ” said Mr. Bruschi.

The first shoemaker in Yosemite was Beaus Umboldi, who made mostly boots. Francis Bruschi also made boots at twenty dollars a pair and guaranteed them for one year.

“Everything in the Valley was open to camp where you pleased, put a store any spot you chose, fish anywhere and all you wanted. The Indians often sold twenty-five to thirty fish for twenty-five cents,” said Mr. Bruschi.

On being asked about gold nuggets, Mr. Bruschi replied: “The largest nugget I ever saw weighed twenty-four pounds. The first mint in California was at Montofee. Here the octagonal fifty-pound slug was made which bore the stamp of California.”

Mr. Bruschi is glad that he had a part in Yosemite’s earliest development, and he appreciates the opportunities and comforts that the Government has provided for the tourist. “And there is no other place like it,” says Mr. Bruschi.

Chapter 7: The Peregoy Register

ountain View House—Chas. E. Peregoy” is the inscription on the cover of an old register that was given to the Yosemite Museum in June, 1929, by Mrs. Lucy Peregoy Milburn. It is a rare gift, an interesting and valuable book, because the names on its pages make history in themselves.

Mountain View House register has entries from September 10, 1869, when five guests registered, to October 24, 1874. There are no further entries until June 5 and 7, 1878, when a small party was cared for by Mr. and Mrs. Peregoy. In a letter dated at the Sentinel Hotel, Yosemite, April 23, 1872, John Muir advises his friend, Mrs. Carr, after leaving Clark’s, to stop “at Peregoy’s, five or six miles south of the Valley at the Westfall Meadows.” This was the starting place for the trip into the Valley by way of Glacier, Snow’s Casa de Nevada located at the head of Vernal Falls.

In 1870, between May 16 and October 26, 514 guests registered. Among these names we find on the page of July 6, 1870, Terese Yelverton, Viscountess Avonmore, England, who wrote Zanita, a Tale of the Yosemite, the first novel written about Yosemite. The characters in the book are largely taken from the people living in the Valley at the time. Zanita is Florence Hutchings, first white child born in the Valley. Kenmuir is John Muir. On leaving the Valley, the Viscountess wrote: “I have spent the four happiest months of my life in this glorious valley.” October 5, 1870, J. M. Hutchings and Miss Florence Hutchings registered from Yosemite Valley. We find the name of Galen Clark registered on October 2. Fred Leidig, pioneer hotel keeper in the Valley, registered in July. All of these are prominent names in the early history of Yosemite.

G. Garibaldi, B. Ardizzi, Nestor Randseype, and A. Vohl of Mariposa registered on July 23. The writing of each name is labored, yet it reveals character. Are these men from the unknown throng that, through its labors, makes easy the road for others to travel? If so, we rejoice that the love of beauty and grandeur remained in their hearts and led them to the Valley to satisfy their love.

The reader experiences a thrill as he reads in the old register: “July 27, 1870, Mark Hopkins and wife, Williamstown, Mass.” He was in this Yosemite and left here something of his spirit as an educator and author. Literally, we did not “sit on one end of a log with Mark Hopkins on the other” to get our education, but in reality thousands have sat at the feet of his spirit and learned of him. His book, The Law of Love and Love as Law, stands the test of time.

Peregoy’s Mountain View House was known far and wide for the unusual hospitality of Mr. and Mrs. Peregoy, their excellent beds and wonderful food. Often the guests, on leaving the hotel, paid tribute in the register to their host and hostess. The guides, too, were the subject of most favorable comment. Leidig’s Hotel was also highly recommended. On July 25, 1870, a guest, on returning from the Valley, records: “We remained in the Valley nine days, stopped at Leidig’s Hotel, which we take pleasure to recommend as a first-class hotel.”

From May 8, 1871, to October 4, 1871, over 1300 guests registered. This closed the register except for June 4 and 5, 1878, when a party of 22 registered from New York and Oakland.

On June 4, 1871, appears the following entry: “For the first time a religious service was held under Chapel Tree on Glacier Point, Sunday, June 4, 1871. A sermon was preached by Rev. Lewis Frances from the text, Psalm 100:2, ‘Serve the Lord with gladness.’ There were present the 18 persons whose names are inclosed within brackets upon the opposite page, with the guides, James A. Ridgeway, Eli Stump, and Thomas Treamer.”

Concerning the guides that seemed most popular, we find these comments on the register:

“Joseph Ridgeway—an a No. 1 Guide.
Eli Stump—A No. 1 Guide.
Garvey and Ridgeway—the Lord’s Guide.
We were guided by E. Stump
And we voted him a trump.
Eli Stump, best Guide in America.
E. Stump best guide in the world.”

On June 20, 1871, a party records: “The views from Glacier Point and Sentinel Dome are grand beyond description. The whole Yosemite Valley in all its beauty and sublimity can be seen from these two points and nobody should fail to make the trip.” On June 29, 1871, D. H. Temple, Bloomfield, N. J., writes: “Returning from the valley. The first tourists through by the new trail from the Nevada Falls through the Little Yosemite. Left Snow’s at 6 1/4 a. m. Eli Stump, Guide.”

The words of praise for Peregoy’s were generous. On July 7, 1871, a party says: “Our first party here was delightful and we were more than glad to return because of the general neatness and generousness of the fare. God help the host and hostess.”

On July 15, 1871, “T. De Witt Talmage, Brooklyn, N. Y.,” appears on the register and awakens memories of early Chautauqua days when he was popular as a preacher. Dr. Talmage’s Brooklyn tabernacle, three times consumed by fire, was widely known.

On July 17, 1871, a party records:

“We went into the Valley
By the Point of Inspiration
And returned from there today
By the ‘Road of Desperation,’
And have only time to say
That it met with Expectation.”

On August 9, 1872, we find written in beautiful penmanship:

“Not peregoric but Peregoy!
A name of comfort and of joy!
Here the tired traveler racked with pains,
A little of his strength regains.
Here, too, forgetting all his woes
Fresh courage takes and Clarkwise goes!”

Eighteen hundred and seventy-two has very interesting entries. “May 24, 1872, A. Bierstadt, N. Y.,” is on the register. This name has special interest. In 1930, Domes of Yosemite, painted by this German-American artist in 1864, was presented to the Yosemite Museum by the Charlotte Bowditch estate through Sophia F. Baylor.

On June 4, 1872, a party writes: “56 tourists caught here in a pitiful snowstorm and harbored here for shelter 18 hours; all found as well as could be expected with accommodations for 16.”

“June 12, Joaquin Miller, Oregon,” arrests the eye. We do not associate him with Oregon but rather with his California home near the city of Oakland. On his seventy acres of land near the city of Oakland this pioneer of the West, this poet of the Sierra, expressed his life in an unusual, yet most significant, way. On the hill’s slope he planted trees in the form of a cross to signify that all mankind must bear a cross. To Moses, the Lawgiver, he erected a pyramid of rock. To Browning, the poet of the soul, he erected a tower; he also erected a tower to J. C. Frémont, Pioneer. Recently Oakland made a park of Joaquin Miller’s home and grounds.

On June 12, 1872, a guest records: “A good rectangular repast and ‘guter wein’.”

On June 12, 1872, “J. C. Lamon, Yosemite,” is again registered. He was the first settler in the Valley and built his log cabin in 1859. John Muir speaks of him as kindly and hospitable to any one who came to his door. The entry on July 15, 1872, “Prof. A. Gray and wife, Cambridge, Mass.,” almost startles us. Asa Gray— the foremost name in botany of his time. To countless thousands he has been a help and guide. Gray’s Herbarium in Harvard will continue to guide and inspire.

On August 14, 1872, we read, “Horace Greeley, New York.” Hated and beloved in his time, though hate dies and love survives, Greeleys name is great in history. When, in 1872, Greeley was defeated by Grant in the presidential election, every schoolchild joined in the chorus “Hurrah for Greeley! Grant’s elected!” I, too, was in that chorus.

On June 1, 1873, a party writes in the register: “To their kind host and hostess, Mr. and Mrs. Peregoy, for their more than courteous hospitality. Tourists passing this way will do well to avail themselves of the comfortable beds and luxuriant table of the Hotel Peregoy.”

On June 1, 1873, another writes: “The best house we have found west of the Rocky Mountains.”

On June 2, still another writes: “Valley of Yosemite, fare thee well, thy tranquil river, thy beautiful cascades, thy towering cliffs. We may never again look into thy bosom, but we take with us photographed in our memory thy every wonder and thy every charm, a lingering long farewell.”

On June 16, 1873, a beloved name is recorded: “John Muir, Yosemite Valley.” He has taught us to know the beauty and grandeur of nature’s book, and his spirit will continue to teach throughout the years. On the Lost Arrow Trail, near the foot of Yosemite Falls, a boulder with a bronze tablet marks the site of the little cabin that was Muir’s home for eleven years.

On July 17, 1873, “Bret Harte, N. Y.,” is recorded, and we recall the Luck of Roaring Camp and other wonderful tales that only Bret Harte could write.

The last days of July are full of tributes to the splendid host and hostess of Mountain View House. Among them are:

“The best host and hostess I have found in California.”

“We recommend this locality as it beats the best hotels in the city.”

“This hotel is the best in California.”

In the short period of four summers Mountain View House gave splendid service to some five thousand people who came to look into the heart of what, since 1860, has been Yosemite National Park. These guests came from every state then in the Union and from the territories of Wyoming and New Mexico. They came from the Hawaiian Archipelago, the Philippines, and the West Indies.

The old register is full of interest and full of history. It provides an original source of historical material, and it also serves as a priceless reminder of many of those pioneer nature lovers who have done so much for Yosemite and for the nation. We are grateful to Mrs. Lucy Peregoy Milburn for this gift. She prized it and also appreciated its full value to all who are interested in the early life and history of Yosemite, and to all these she gave it.

EARLY ARTISTS IN YOSEMITE

THE FIRST PICTURE OF YOSEMITE VALLEY
Sketched by Thomas A. Ayres, June 20, 1855 [Editor’s note: the correct date is June 27, 1855.—dea]

Chapter 8: Early Artists in Yosemite

THOMAS A. AYRES

he landscape artist, Thomas A. Ayres, was one of five men who trailed into Yosemite Valley in 1855 with the pioneer, James Mason Hutchings, who engaged the artist to make drawings for his proposed magazine, the California Monthly. The first view of the Valley was from Inspiration Point and here on June 20, 1855, Thomas Ayres drew a sketch, the first ever made of Yosemite Valley. On the pencil drawing the artist wrote: “Thos. A. Ayres, Del. 1855.” On the mat of the picture he records: “Drawn from Nature by T. A. Ayres, No. 1.” The party remained in the Valley five days. The artist, in addition to this first sketch, made four other drawings as follows:

El Capitan. In the lower left hand corner of the picture the artist has written, “Drawn from Nature by Thos. A. Ayres, 1855.” On the original mat are the words: “Scene in the Valley of the Yo Hemity, California. The Cliff of El Capitan, looking West.”

Yosemite Domes. On this drawing is written, “Thos. A. Ayres, 1855”; on the mat, “The Domes of the Yosemite. From the Valley looking East, Morning.”

Cascades of the Rainbow. On the drawing the artist wrote: “Cascade of the Rainbow. Valley of the Yo Hemity, California. Drawn from Nature by Thos. A. Ayres, 1855.”

The High Falls, now called Yosemite Falls. On the original mat is written, “The High Falls, Valley of the Yosemite, California. Drawn from Nature by T. A. Ayres, 1855, No. 5.”

The High Falls was the first Yosemite picture to be published. Copies of the lithograph taken from the original are much sought by collectors of Californiana and command high prices.

In 1856 Thomas Ayres took a second trip into Yosemite, this time on his own account, and made drawings in and about the Valley. (See photographic copies in California State Library, Sacramento.) Some of these were secured by Admiral James Alden, of Boston, Coast survey appointee in 1853, who came to California to settle the boundary line between the United States and Mexico. Before his return to Boston in 1860, he visited Yosemite Valley and procured the five original drawings made by Ayres in 1855, and two other drawings made in 1856; namely:

Falls of Ta-sa-yue, now called Illilouette. On the mat the artist wrote: “Falls of Ta-sa-yue, South Fork, Valley of the Yosemite, California. Drawn from Nature, Thos. A. Ayres.”

Falls of Ca-no-pah, now called Vernal Falls. On this picture is written: “Falls of Ca-no-pah, Middle Fork, Valley of Yosemite, California. Drawn from nature by Thos. A. Ayres, 1856. No. 8.”

To Admiral James Alden the seven original drawings were the finest and choicest souvenirs of the Valley. For three-quarters of a century these drawings remained in the possession of the Alden family. Now, through the generosity of his grandniece, Mrs. Ernest Bowditch, the seven pictures may be seen by all visitors to the Valley in the Yosemite Museum. In 1926, the five original drawings made in 1855 and also a lithograph of the first picture made, General View of the Great Yosemite Valley, together with two original drawings made in 1856, were presented to the United States National Park Service by Mrs. Ernest Bowditch, Mrs. Charles Wells Hubbard, and Mrs. Augustus H. Eustis.

Ayres’ description of his second trip into Yosemite Valley, published in the Daily Alta California, August 6, 1856, attracted attention. The following year, 1857, his drawings were exhibited in New York, and he was engaged by Harpers to illustrate several articles on California. En route from San Pedro to San Francisco on the schooner, Laura Bevan, Thomas Ayres was lost at sea when the schooner capsized off the Farallone Islands in April, 1858.

In his book, Discovery of the Yosemite (published 1880, p. 311), Dr. L. H. Bunnell, who accompanied Ayres on his trip into the Valley in 1856, speaks of the artist thus:

“. . . Mr. Ayres . . . was the first to sketch any of the scenery of the Yosemite. He was afterwards employed in sketching by Harpers, of New York. . . . Mr. Ayres was a gentleman in feeling and manners. His ingenuity and adaptability to circumstances, with his kindness and good nature, made him the very soul of the party.”

Thomas Ayres was born in New Jersey; he came to California in 1849. His drawings—the first pictures ever made of Yosemite scenery—are a distinct and priceless contribution for their historic as well as artistic value. His untimely death cut short a career of great possibilities.

THOMAS HILL
1829-1908

Thomas Hill, pioneer artist of Yosemite, was born in Birmingham, England, in 1829, and came to America in early childhood. In 1854 he studied art in Philadelphia; later he studied a year in Paris.

In 1861 Hill took up his residence in San Francisco and the same year established his studio in the beautiful Wawona Meadow. In her book, The Round Trip, published 1890, Susie Clark says: “The Studio of Thomas Hill located here [Wawona] is an interesting place to visit, its gallery of art treasures being freely open to all.”

Hill was a landscape painter, mostly of California scenes. His residence in Yosemite and his paintings of Yosemite scenes gave him the title “Pioneer artist of Yosemite.” Among the paintings by Hill to be seen at the Yosemite Museum are Vernal Falls and Nevada Falls painted on red wood panels, several canvasses in oil, and a painting of the California Snow Plant (Sarcodes sanguinea).

Mrs. H. W. R. Strong, of Los Angeles, when visiting Yosemite in July, 1928, told the writer of her acquaintance with the artist. Hill’s painting, The Cow, she remarked, was noted because that cow was the first to be brought into Yosemite for home use, and when Hill died in 1908, she bought the picture. It was at that time hanging on the wall of his studio. She also bought El Capitan and the Merced.

Hill attained a high rank in his art. Galen Clark, in his book, Yosemite Indians (p. 111), says: “He was awarded thirty-two first medals.” Among Hill’s well-known paintings are: Valley of Yosemite, Donner Lake, Muir Glacier, Grand Canyon of the Colorado, and The Last Spike—this the best known of his paintings. Its value is chiefly historical. The connection of the Union Pacific Railroads in 1869 was a triumphant and significant event in the development of the United States.

ALBERT BIERSTADT
1829—1902

Albert Bierstadt was born in Düsseldorf, Germany, in 1829 and was brought to America as a babe. As a young man he studied art in Dusseldorf for four years and in Rome for a year. He returned to America in 1857. The following year he took a trip overland by wagon. He made sketches and laid the foundation for a score of large canvasses. The following data are from letters received by the writer from Mrs. Bierstadt’s nieces.

In 1866 Albert Bierstadt married Rosalie Osborne, of Waterville, New York, after whom he named Mount Rosalie in Colorado. Rosalie Osborne, well educated, beautiful, and charming, was a fitting companion for the already well-known artist. Three exquisite portraits of her are still in the family. Education, culture, and interesting personalities gave to Mr. and Mrs. Bierstadt open door and they were royally received wherever they journeyed.

They had a beautiful home at Irvington-on-the-Hudson, called “Malkasten” (the Painter’s Box). It was built by the artist in 1865, of gneiss rock, was 100 feet by 75 feet, contained thirty-five rooms, and a studio 50 feet by 75 feet, with a ceiling 35 feet high. Many members of the English nobility were entertained in this home.

Photograph by Mora, New York

ALBERT BIERSTADT

Princess Louise, Queen Victoria’s youngest daughter, and her husband, the Marquis of Lorne, were friends of Mr. and Mrs. Bierstadt. Mr. Bierstadt enjoyed the personal acquaintance of Queen Victoria and was her dinner and over-night guest at “Osborne” on the Isle of Wight.

In 1867 the artist was sent to Europe by our Government to study for his painting, Discovery of the North River by Hendrik Hudson, which, when finished, was hung in the Capitol at Washington.

The Bierstadts had no children, but no Uncle and Aunt could have been more beloved by nieces and nephews and by the children in the homes they visited. In 1893, due to tuberculosis, the artist was robbed of his splendid companion and charming wife when she was still young. Her death was keenly felt for she was beloved and admired by all who knew her.

Among the treasures prized by the nieces are “Aunt Rosalie’s” two autograph albums filled with letters and pictures of famous writers, artists, and other people of note and prominence. Many of Mrs. Bierstadt’s pieces of rare and beautiful jewelry are also in their possession, as well as a number of “Uncle Albert’s” paintings and sketches.

Albert Bierstadt was more than a painter of great landscapes. He was interested in the animal life of the country and had a deep feeling for the Indian. An article on the National Academy of Design, which appeared in Frank Leslie’s Monthly in 1888, says: “While in his teens, Albert Bierstadt began to see that the aboriginal life of this continent had not yet found any adequate interpreter on canvas. He read with avidity the works of the then portrayers of the early life of the continent. Irving, Cooper, Prescott, and others inspired him with an idea to rescue the aboriginal life from oblivion and perpetuate it in natural and historical studies in color.”

He made a study of wild-horned animals, and had many specimens of deer, wapati, mountain sheep and goats, from the time the horns start to grow until they are the most perfect specimens obtainable. He had fourteen wapati heads. He had, also, a great number of valuable studies and sketches and a book written by the Indians in their own language and illustrated by them. In it, Sitting Bull had written a sketch of himself. During ten years in the Rocky Mountains, Bierstadt had made a collection of Indian costumes, carvings, implements and paraphernalia of various tribes, which he considered priceless. All these things, together with many of his paintings, were destroyed when Irvington-on-the-Hudson was burned in 1882.

When Albert Bierstadt married Rosalie Osborne, her father built a studio for the artist. In a letter received by the writer in June, 1935, from Mrs. Bierstadt’s niece, she states: “The studio is still standing as originally built on the Osborne estate in Waterville, New York. It is a quaint building reminding one of a green house with its many tiny glass windows. The studio is used today just as it was built in 1866.”

Bierstadt was a pioneer in portraying the lofty grandeur of the Rockies and the Sierra. His pictures became famous and attracted international attention. On one of his western trips “. . . Idaho Springs (Colorado) was visited in 1863 by Albert Bierstadt, the greatest American landscape painter. . . . Mr. Bierstadt soon went home to New York and in a little over two years had finished his great picture, A Storm in the Rocky Mountains. . . . In the winter of 1865-6 the picture was placed on exhibition in New York . . . and the proceeds from admission were donated to the relief of destitute soldiers’ orphans. It attracted great attention and endless criticism. Its only rival in public estimation was Church’s Heart of the Andes, then in a private gallery in New York. . . . The picture, A Storm in the Rocky Mountains, went to Paris in 1867 to a world’s exposition, where it was almost immediately sold for $20,000. Mr. Bierstadt had recently completed another great picture, The Last of the Buffalo.” (Magazine of Western History, Vol. II, p. 237.)

Mr. Bierstadt, like many other artists, was attracted to Yosemite and thrilled with its scenes. Near Lady Franklin Rock is Register Rock, where in the early days, tolls were collected from all tourists taking the trail to Glacier Point. “. . . There is one entry upon a sloping side of rock that is perhaps worthy of notice, as it reads, ‘Camped here August 21, 1863, A. Bierstadt, Virgil Williams, E. W. Perry, Fitzhugh Ludlum.’ It was during this visit to the valley that Mr. Bierstadt made the sketch from which his famous picture, The Domes of Yosemite, was afterwards painted.” (In the Heart of the Sierras, J. M. Hutchings, p. 441).

Bierstadt made other trips to Yosemite. In the Perogoy register we find: “May 24, 1872 A. Bierstadt.” Mrs. Bierstadt accompanied the artist on a third trip, writes her niece. They camped in Yosemite Valley and also at Hetch Hetchy where the artist painted the valley that is now a reservoir.

On his frequent visits to San Francisco the artist was the guest of Cutler McAllister, one of San Francisco’s prominent pioneers, whose home was on Rincon Hill. A letter received from M. Hall McAllister, son of Cutler McAllister, states: “Bierstadt was a frequent visitor at my father’s residence, having brought a letter of introduction on his first coming to California. This was way back in the sixties but I well remember his visits. He was evidently fond of children as he drew little sketches of all kinds for us. I well remember his visit in 1872 for one incident especially. One day after lunch he took our children’s paints and quickly penciled the outline of a butterfly with open wings. He then painted one wing, folded the two wings together, then opened them to the admiring glances of the children as they beheld the complete butterfly.”

The McAllister family prizes an engraving, twenty-four by thirty-six, of “The Rocky Mountains,“ one of Bierstadt’s large canvasses, signed “Painted by A. Bierstadt.”

Albert Bierstadt received honors both at home and abroad. Austria, Bavaria, Belgium, and Germany awarded him medals. In a letter Mrs. Bierstadt’s niece states: “Uncle Albert also received the Order of St. Stanislaus from Russia in 1869 and again 1872 when the Czar also presented him a loving cup. He received the Imperial Order of the Medjid from the Sultan of Turkey in 1886.” In 1860 he became a member of the National Academy. In 1867 he was decorated with the Cross of the Legion of Honor. Among the canvasses of Albert Bierstadt are the following with their time and location:

1861—Laramie Peak. Buffalo Academy of Fine Arts.
1863—Landers’ Peak. London.
1863—Rocky Mountains with Indian Encampment. Metropolitan Museum in New York.
1864—North Fork Platte River. Bought by Judge Henry Hilton, New York.
1864—Looking Up Yosemite Valley. Presented to Yosemite Museum by Charlotte Bowditch Estate.
1866—El Capitan and Merced River. Bought by Lucien Tuckerman.
1866—Valley of Yosemite. In New York Library.
1866—The Burning Ship. Bought by August Belmont.
1875—Valley of Kern River. Hermitage, St. Petersburg, Russia.
1877—Estes Park. Earl of Devonshire.
1877—Domes of Yosemite. Athaneum, at St. Johnsbury, Vermont.
1878—Mountain Lake. Corcoran Gallery, Washington, D. C.
1886—Old Faithful. Yildiz Palace of the Sultan on the Bosporus.
Discovery of the North River by Hendric Hudson, and Settlement of California, were both painted by Bierstadt for the Capitol at Washington.

About the time of Bierstadt’s death in 1902, the tendency in landscape art was toward the small, quiet, more intimate canvasses. As a painter of magnificent scenery on large canvasses, Albert Bierstadt stands secure.

CHRIS JORGENSEN
1860-1935

Chris Jorgensen was born in Oslo, Norway, in 1860. At the age of ten years he came to America making California his home. He was interested in drawing and painting from earliest childhood and was the first student to enroll in the California School of Fine Arts organized in San Francisco in 1874. From 1881 to 1883 he was assistant director of the school. In his sketch class was Angela Ghirardelli, a young society girl of San Francisco, a gifted

CHRIS JORGENSEN

pupil and art critic. Jorgensen’s picture, “Along the Wharfs,” had hung on the wall of the school for some time. Angela admired it and appraised it highly. It was exhibited by the Art School in 1882 and immediately sold. Angela felt the loss of the picture so keenly that Jorgensen recovered it from the purchaser and presented it to his pupil. The following year Chris Jorgensen and Angela Ghirardelli were married. There followed more than half a century of rare companionship. Two children, a son and daughter, completed the family circle.

In 1892 Mr. and Mrs. Jorgensen went to Italy, the homeland of Angela Ghirardelli, where they spent two years with Italy’s great artists. Shortly after returning Jorgensen built a studio home in Yosemite, for which he drew the plan and did much of the labor of building. The panel over the fire-place—a study of heads —was the work of Mrs. Jorgensen. The artist made all the furniture in this studio home. Mr. Jorgensen says of this home: “The studio proper is a room twenty-four feet square and is always open during the summer for friend or stranger. The big, broad porch of our cottage—ten feet in width—is a main lounging place and it is here that most of the social life goes on.” This studio he used for twenty years. It was here that he began his painting of Yosemite scenes, most of which canvases were sold from the studio. Among these were “Yosemite in the Winter,” “Cathedral Spires,” and “Happy Isles.” Other noted pictures of this period are “Mount Lyell at Sunset,” “Big Trees,” and the entire “Yosemite Valley,” the canvas needed for this painting was so large that it was taken to the point of view on a truck and here the artist did his work.

Chris Jorgensen had a deep feeling for the old missions which he expressed on canvases. When in 1905 he built a studio home at Carmel-by-the-Sea he painted the Carmel Mission for the panel above the fire-place. He also built a bungalow at Pebble Beach. His home on the Piedmont Hills, surrounded by trees and shrubs and winding ways, was an artist’s home built for the family; for artist friends; for the social life of the son and daughter and their friends; it was built to meet the unlimited hospitality which characterized both Mr. and Mrs. Jorgensen. It was a rambling house of many rooms in each of which a picture from nature in its changing moods was framed in.

Chris Jorgensen had a studio home in his beloved San Francisco where he was also a member of the Bohemian Club and where his pictures were frequently exhibited. His canvases are many and will live for their portrayal of mountain grandeur; of boisterous waters; of quiet meadows; of by-gone mission days; of fishermen and wharves. One great picture will live in history. This canvas is the expression of the artist’s love and distress for the city that fell in April, 1906. It bears the title “San Francisco in Ruins.”

In Galen Clark’s book, Yosemite Indians, published in 1904, are four drawings by Chris Jorgensen. The cover design and the drawing of a “Chuck'-ah” are by Mrs. Jorgensen. Jorgensen’s portrait of Galen Clark, etched on a slab of red-wood, has, for many years hung in the Yosemite Museum and is much admired.

Chris Jorgensen died at his Piedmont studio after a brief illness on June 25, 1935. Only a few months later, in February, 1936, Mrs. Jorgensen died. The recaptured picture, “Along the Wharves,” was still hanging on the wall of her room, a precious token of girlhood days. The son, Virgil Jorgensen, is the only survivor, the daughter having died some years ago.

By the will of Mrs. Jorgensen many of her husband’s paintings are bequeathed to the United States Government for exhibit at the Yosemite Museum.

WILLIAM E. KEITH

A number of excellent photographs taken from paintings by William E. Keith are in Yosemite Museum. Like all artists who came to Yosemite, Keith was impressed by its natural features. The existing number of his works is comparatively small because much that he considered his best, was destroyed in the San Francisco fire in 1906 and Keith died a few years later.

When Dr. Tevis’ art treasures were put up at auction in June, 1934, the San Francisco Chronicle of June 20, 1934, said: “Much of the interest was in the offering of a collection of the paintings of William Keith, long acclaimed the greatest of California painters. . . . Though there were many longing looks toward the mellow, yellowish, and green landscapes, there were no bids and the auctioneer’s starter of $250.00 for the famous The Oaks, appraised at $6500, remained undisputed. The painting will be sent to New York and London.”

THOMAS MORAN
1837-1926

Thomas Moran, perhaps the most widely known and best beloved of American landscape painters, died at Santa Barbara, California, on August 25, 1926. He was born in Bolton, England, on January 12, 1837. In 1844 the family emigrated to America and located in the cultural and art loving city of Philadelphia.

At the age of twenty-one Moran exhibited at the Pennsylvania Academy of Fine Arts in 1858. His work attracted attention and his art was recognized. In 1862 he returned to England to study the work of Turner. In 1866 he went to Europe to study the French and Italian masters.

Moran made his first trip west in 1871, a guest of the United States Geological Survey conducted by F. V. Hayden. He expressed his feeling and ardent zeal for the West on his many canvases, best known of which is “The Grand Canyon of the Yellowstone.” It was enthusiastically received, congress appropriated money for its purchase and placed it in the capitol. This was but the beginning of Moran’s work inspired by a grandeur in nature he had not dreamed of The West had cast its spell upon him; one trip followed another until the regions of Colorado and Utah, the Tetons of Wyoming where he sketched the peak named in his honor, Yosemite Valley hidden away in the Sierra, Arizona with its desert and its Grand Canyon of the Colorado were all known to him and he teemed with inspiration to express on canvas their lure and beauty. His canvas, “Chasm of the Colorado,” was also purchased by congress and hangs with its companion piece on the walls of the capitol.

National parks were not in existence when Moran, on his early western trips painted rare and outstanding creations in nature, yet eight scenes which he interpreted are now in national parks and monuments. His was an unconscious but vital influence in arousing interest in the value of national parks.

Not only the rugged scenery of the West attracted Thomas Moran; he also saw and felt the quiet beauty in the stillness of lakes and meadows. The University of Wisconsin owned two large and beautiful canvases by him. “Sunset on Lake Mendota” and “Sunrise on Lake Monona” had rare touches of reality and feeling. It was a loss to the state when, in 1884, they were destroyed by a fire on the campus.

The artist was a home loving man. The dunes and oaks and quiet places about Long Island where he lived for forty years were subjects for many canvases.

Nine years after the death of Thomas Moran his daughter, Miss Ruth R. Moran, presented to the United States “The Thomas Moran Art Collection of the National Parks.” Dr. F. M. Fryxell, of the National Park Service, says: “This collection, includes nearly 300 items. It has been temporarily assigned to Yosemite Park because of the many Yosemite subjects it contains, and because of the facilities available in the Yosemite Museum for its display under fireproof conditions.”

Moran’s love for Yosemite never ceased to draw him to the Valley. Yosemite was the objective of his second journey into the Westin 1872. He returned three times: in 1874 with his wife, and in 1904 and 1922 with his younger daughter, Ruth, who speaks

Photograph by Gledhill

THOMAS MORAN

of her father’s joy in seeing again the waterfalls and cliffs he loved so well. In the early ’70’s the name “Moran Point” was fittingly given to a promontory on the Valley rim near Glacier Point. And when the final summons came there stood on Thomas Moran’s easel the unfinished painting of Bridal Veil Falls.

The collection includes many originals dating back to Moran’s first trips into the West. There are 61 pencil sketches; 15 black and white wash drawings; 7 water-color sketches; 6 etchings; 18 lithographs; 2 large charcoal drawings; 2 oil paintings; and 60 illustrations from drawings on wood.

The great centers of art are not within range of the masses. But the development of museums in our national parks is rapidly bringing art in various forms to the millions who annually visit them. It seems most fitting that works of art of every kind be housed in the locality that inspired them.

Chapter 9: Cemetery in Yosemite Valley

Note: For many of the data in this article the author is indebted to the following pioneers: Charles Tuttle Leidig, first white boy born in Yosemite and continuously connected with the park from the time of his birth in 1869, until August, 1917; Henry Hedges of Mariposa, the first stage driver into Yosemite; Gabriel Sovulewski, whose service in the park has been uninterrupted since 1906. Data on the ten Indian graves in the northeastern part of the cemetery were obtained from the Indians. Among these were Maria Lebrado, granddaughter of Chief Tenaya, Sally Ann Dick of Coulterville, and Chris Brown.

o one seems to know when, if ever, a plat was set aside in Yosemite for burial purposes. When John C. Anderson was killed by a horse, in July, 1867, he was buried at the foot of the Four-Mile Trail. When Agnes, the two-year-old daughter of Mr. and Mrs. G. E. Leidig, died in 1869, she was buried on the site of the present Ahwahnee Hotel. Both were later reinterred in the present cemetery. According to the pioneers, the first interment it Yosemite Cemetery was that of a young boy drowned at Happy Isles. There was no marker.

In 1907, Mr. Sovulewski and Mr. Degnan outlined the present cemetery area with Incense Cedar trees. In 1918, they built the fence that now (1936) encloses about forty graves. This number includes a group often Indian graves in the northeastern part of the plat. The remains of an old well are still to be seen in the vacant space between the graves of Thomas Glynn and Albert May. The names of the persons buried in Yosemite Cemetery, together with brief bits of information about them, follow.

Harry Eddy. Beginning in the southwest corner of the cemetery and following the graves in an irregular line northward, we come first to a weather-worn board marker that reads: “Harry Eddy, died October 10, 1919.” He was a carpenter who worked or the Yosemite barns. He lived in a tent at the rear of Gabriel Sovulewski’s present home.

Frank Bockerman. Just to the north another board marker reads: “Frank Bockerman, July, 1910.” No pioneer seems to have any memory of him.

William Bonney Atkinson. A rugged piece of granite stands next, with the inscription, “William Bonney Atkinson, born in Yosemite June 25, 1898. Died April 15, 1902. Bill.” He was the youngest of three children and beloved by all who knew him. His father was an employee of the State.

The Hutchings Family. A huge rugged rock of granite marks the graves of the pioneer, James Mason Hutchings, his daughter, Florence, and that of his second wife, A[u]gusta L. Hutchings. A marble cross is the headstone of Mr. Hutchings’ grave. The inscription reads: “In Memory, J. M. H., Pioneer, Patriot, Feb. 10, 1818, Oct. 31, 1902.” Mr. Hutchings’ daughter, Gertrude Hutchings Mills, says the inscription is incorrect in respect to her father’s birth; he was born in 1820.

The grave of Florence Hutchings, first white child born in the Valley, is marked thus: “Aug. 23, 1864. Sept. 26, 1881. F. H.” Florence was a gifted child and beloved by all who knew her. Her funeral was held in the Big Tree Room of the Barnard Hotel which, before Mr. Barnard’s time, was “The Hutchings House.” In the absence of a clergyman, the San Francisco artist, C. G. Robinson, read the burial service of the Episcopal Church.

The grave of Mrs. Hutchings is marked by her initials, “A. L. H.” She was a devoted and beloved wife. Her sudden death, after an illness of only a few hours, followed the death of Florence by only a few weeks. It was Mrs. Hutchings’ good taste and deft fingers that transformed the old cabin at the foot of Yosemite Falls into a home of such charm and beauty that those who entered it never forgot it.

Agnes Leidig. Time has worn beyond recognition the inscription from the painted wood marker of this grave. Until C. T. Leidig came to my assistance, this grave was unknown to me. He said: “This is the grave of my two-and-a-half-year-old little sister. Agnes was the first white child to die in the Valley. She was buried on the present site of the Ahwahnee Hotel. At that time, 1869, my mother was the only white woman living in the Valley, and there were only four white men. Later the body of my little sister was moved to this cemetery.

Effie Crippen. East of the Hutchings monument is a board marker that more than fifty years has not dimmed. It reads: “Effie Crippen, August 31, 1881, Age 14 years 7 months, 22 days.” J. M. Hutchings, the pioneer, read the Episcopal service in the Big Tree Room of the Barnard Hotel. Among the young friends who sang at the grave was Florence Hutchings, who in a few weeks was also laid to rest “in the grove of noble oaks where Tissiac, Goddess of the Valley, keeps constant watch.” Mrs. Crippen had married Mr. Barnard, proprietor of the hotel, and Effie was the light and joy of this home. School was closed the day of the funeral so that her little friends might attend. Among these was Charles T. Leidig, who told the writer that in the early seventies the school, consisting of five pupils, was held for a brief time in a tent on the present site of the cemetery. The permanent schoolhouse was built east of the Sentinel Hotel on the present camp 19 site.

Mrs. Cannon. Just north of Effie Crippen’s grave the lot seems vacant. A small piece of rock lies upon it as if definitely placed there. Pioneers say it is the grave of Mrs. Cannon, who died about 1895.

Thomas Glynn. The board marker at the head of this grave is easily read. It states briefly: “Thomas Glynn, Mex. War Vet. Oct. 18, 1881.” Mr. Degnan knew both Mr. and Mrs. Glynn and spoke of them as “excellent people.” Hutchings says (Heart of Sierras, p. 351): “Mrs. Glynn is an industrious woman and, being a good cook, ekes out a frugal living by selling bread, pies and such things to transient customers, and by keeping two or three boarders.”

Albert May. The next grave to the north is marked with a marble headstone which reads: “Albert May, Native of Ohio, died October 23, 1881, aged 51 years.” Mr. Hedges says that Mr. May was a carpenter for the hotelkeeper, A. G. Black. In the vacant space between the graves of Thomas Glynn and Albert May was the old well. According to Galen Clark, who dug it, the well was placed in the cemetery in order to make water available for keeping the graves green.

James Chenowith Lamon. A tall granite shaft marks the grave of Yosemite’s first settler. It reads: “J. C. Lamon died May 22, 1875 aged 58 years.” Mr. Lamon built the first cabin in the Valley, in 1859, and he was the first white man to winter in the Valley, spending the winter of 1861-1862 entirely alone.

Galen Clark. In the shelter of the Sequoias brought from the Mariposa Grove and planted by his own hands about 1886, sleeps Galen Clark, “Beloved man of Yosemite.“ From the well, which he dug in the cemetery, he watered the young trees. He chiseled his name on the rough boulder that is his headstone, and dug his own grave. In 1930, his nephews, L. L. McCoy and A. M. McCoy, completed the inscription, adding the dates, 1814-1910.

George Fisk and Carrie Fisk. The graves of George Fisk and his wife, Carrie Fisk, are outlined with small granite stones. Mr. Fisk’s grave is unmarked; he died in 1920. He was an early photographer in Yosemite, and his work was of notable quality. He worked for a time in the studio of Carleton E. Watkins, in San Francisco. The grave of Carrie Fisk, his wife, is marked with a marble headstone bearing the inscription: “Carrie Fisk, Native of Ohio, Age 63 years, died Jan. 1, 1918.” Mr. and Mrs. Fisk were people of fine character, whose friendship was valued.

Hazel Caroline Myers. Her grave is immediately north of those of the Fisks. The headstone reads: “Hazel Caroline, daughter of George and Lizzie Myers. Jan. 22, 1902—July 5, 1905.” Mrs. Myers was a visitor to Yosemite in 1930.

Mrs. Gabriel Sovulewski. Not far from the grave of Hazel Myers is the grave of Mrs. Sovulewski. She died in August, 1928, having lived in the Valley twenty-two years, greatly beloved and affectionately called “Our Yosemite Mother.”

Sadie Schaeffer. Returning to the south end of the cemetery, we come to the grave of Sadie Schaeffer, marked by a granite shaft. She was a girl between fourteen and fifteen years of age when, with a group of friends she came from Packwaukee, Wisconsin, to visit Yosemite. She was drowned in the rapids of the Merced River, July 7, 1901. A. M. McCoy, nephew of Galen Clark, had just arrived in the Valley and took charge of the burial, reading the Episcopal service. On the tombstone are these words:

SADIE SCHAEFFER

Drowned in the rapids July 7, 1901.
Oh, that beauteous head.
If it did go down,
It carried sunshine into the rapids.

Erected by her companions

James Morgan. Just to the north is the grave of James Morgan who was buried only a few days after Sadie Schaeffer. A granite boulder reads: “James Morgan, died July 10, 1901 aged, 69 years.” For nearly thirty-five years flowers were sent on Decoration Day to be placed on this grave.

A. B. Glasscock. A little farther north a rough piece of granite marks the grave: “A. B. Glasscock, born September 3, 1843. Died June 9, 1897. Native of Missouri.” In Hutchings’ Guide to Yosemite and the Big Trees, published in 1895, there is mention of “A. B. Glasscock, proprietor of Sentinel Hotel.”

Infant. A few small stones give the spot to the north, though unnamed and unmarked, the appearance of a grave. Mr. Degnan says it is the grave of an infant born to Mr. and Mrs. Coyle, whom he knew well.

John C. Anderson. A marble headstone marks the grave. It reads: “John C. Anderson, July 5, 1867. Aged 55 years. Killed by a horse.” Early pioneers say that he was first buried at the foot of the Four-Mile Trail near the home of George Fisk. Later the remains were removed to the present cemetery.

Angelo Cavagnaro. An iron fence and a fine monument mark the grave of A. B. Cavagnaro. "Died September 9, 1885, aged 62 years. “Hutchings says (Heart of Sierras, p. 351): “Mr. Angelo Cavagnaro, an Italian . . . keeps a general merchandise store. He has on hand almost anything . . . from a paper collar to a side of bacon.”

Unnamed and Unknown. A small piece of granite, at the head and at the foot, marks the grave. It is said that a man named Wood lies buried here.

George G. Anderson. Beyond a vacant lot is a grave that has a small granite rock at the head and likewise one at the foot. On the former is cut the name “George G. Anderson,” nothing more. This is the grave of the young Scotsman who was the first to ascend Half Dome. His courage, his daring, his perserverance, helped him to accomplish the ascent on October 12, 1875.

Hamilton and Whorton. A little farther to the north are two graves with small granite stones at the head and at the foot. The first is said to be the grave of a man named Hamilton; the second that of a man named Whorton.

Unknown. There is a grave adjoining these the identity of which is thus far unknown.

A. W. B. Madden. East of the last named graves is a wooden cross with the initials “A. W. B.” According to Mr. Degnan, it is the grave of A. W. B. Madden, a tourist who died at the Sentinel Hotel in 1883. This cross disappeared in 1933. It probably disintegrated from decay.

[Editor’s note: Carolyn Feroben transcribed this obituary from the May 27, 1897 New Orleans Daily Picayune (2007): “Died in Yosemite Valley—San Franicsco, May 24—Colonel G. A. Madden, of the British army, stationed in India, returned yesterday from the Yosemite, but without his brother, who accompanied him on his trip there somewhat over a week ago. The brother of Madden, a well-to-do tea mercant[sic] of Calcutta, died suddenly at Yosemite on Monday list[sic] and the remains, which would nt bear shipment to this city, were interred in the cemterery in the valley. Colonel Madden and his brother were on their way to London to attend the jubilee of the queen. The survivor will continue on his way to England, as he is under order to be there early in June.” —dea.]

Boston; Woolcock; Frenchman; A Boy. South of the Indian burial lot there are four graves not clearly outlined and in no way identified. It is said that one is the grave of a man named “Boston.” He was the toll-keeper for the Coulterville road and was killed for plunder by two Indians, about 1875. Concerning the other three no data seem to be available.

In the northeastern part of the cemetery is an irregular row of ten graves, all Indians, only one of which is marked. The marker is a wooden cross on which is the name “Lucy.” She died about 1922.

The accompanying list gives the data as received by the author from the Indians:

Lancisco Wilson
d. about 1885
Piute

Bill Brown—1899
Yosemite
Father of Johnny Brown
Grandfather of Chris Brown

Mother of Lucy
in Grave 5
Part Yosemite

May Dick
Full blood Yosemite
Mother of
Sarah Dick (Sally Ann) Castagnetto

Lucy
d. about 1920
Part Yosemite

Grandmother of
Lucy Telles

May Tom, age 14
Niece of Maggie Howard
Piute

Sally Ann Dick Castagnetto
Full blood Yosemite
d. Apr. 10, 1932

Pete Hilliard
Part Yosemite
1934

Johnny Brown
Yosemite
Father Chris Brown
1934

That some graves lie outside the cemetery is certain. The Indian, Maggie Howard, places the grave of her father about twenty feet from the present museum.

A young girl of sixteen died at the birth of her stillborn babe. Together they were buried on the well-traveled road leading to the barns. “Why wasn’t she buried in the cemetery?” the informant was asked. “The nice people didn’t want her in the cemetery, and she was forgotten quicker being buried where nobody knows anything about it.”

A few years ago a tablet was placed on a huge piece of granite on the north side of the road near Bridal Veil Falls. It commemorates the death of two miners, Sherburn and Rose, killed near that spot by the Indians. The recently found manuscript of Stephen F. Glover gives the history of the eight miners, of whom Glover was one, and states that the two men killed were Sherburn and Tudor, and that Rose appeared at the mining camp a few days after the Indian attack. (100 Years in Yosemite, C. P. Russell, 1931, pp. 52-57.)

The lone and unknown miner, killed by Indians in the winter of 1862, was found by J. C. Lamon and buried somewhere in Yosemite Valley.

Chapter 10: Yosemite Fire Fall

n creating Yosemite Valley, Nature endowed Yosemite National Park with gifts that she did not duplicate elsewhere. From three thousand feet above its floor the melting snows of the Sierra pour in waterfalls over the rock cliffs that wall in the Valley. Yosemite, Nevada, Vernal, Cascade, and Bridal Veil differ widely from one another but all command universal admiration. To these natural gifts man has added a unique and radiant spectacle— the Fire Fall of Yosemite. Millions have gazed upon it, spreading its fame throughout the world. It, too, has no duplicate.

Yosemite Fire Fall did not spring into being suddenly. Slowly and interruptedly it developed into the glowing beauty that we know today. In 1872 James McCauley, one of the earliest pioneers in Yosemite, built the Four-Mile Trail from Black’s and Leidig’s hotels to Glacier Point, thirty-two hundred feet above the Valley floor, and there operated a hotel known as the Mountain House. The Trail was a financial venture, and its construction involved Mr. McCauley to a considerable amount. The toll, placed at the reasonable amount of one dollar, was not sufficient to repay the cost.

The hotel at Glacier Point was also a new venture. Through Mr. McCauley’s efforts to advertise his Mountain House the idea of the Fire Fall was born. A folder published by the Yosemite Park and Curry Company in 1930, says: “At first he [Mr. McCauley] experimented with various kinds of fire works and blazing boughs which he lowered on wires from Overhanging Rock near the present Fire Fall Point. . . . All such displays were comparatively insignificant on the Valley floor 3200 feet below. Finally he conceived the idea of pushing over the embers. The first Fire Fall was pushed over the cliff in 1874 and was continued during the summer season on special occasions.” After Mr McCauley’s death, which occurred in an accident with a runaway horse, there was no Fire Fall for many years; it was all but forgotten. In 1899, Mr. and Mrs. D. A. Curry founded Camp Curry, which at once became popular and successful. Mr. Curry had heard of the Fire Fall and decided to display it on holidays and those occasions when prominent guests were in the Valley. At such times he sent some of his men up the Ledge Trail to gather the wood, prepare the embers, and push the Fire Fall over the cliff.

Interest in this spectacle grew with the oncoming tourists. Requests for the Fire Fall were so constant and increasingly numerous that Mr. Curry arranged it daily throughout the summer season. In recent years, since Winter Sports have attracted tourists in large numbers, the Fire Fall has also become a regular event during the winter season.

It takes time and preparation to secure a satisfactory Fire Fall. During the summer season one man gives all his time to it. Each day he gathers pine cones, bark, and dead timber, mostly red fir, which abounds in the vicinity of Glacier Point. About one-quarter of a cord is required for the daily Fire Fall. A special shovel with a very long handle was made to push the fire over the cliff. It takes practice to be able to push the embers in a steady stream of fire flowing fifteen to twenty minutes over the cliff. Wood must also be kept in readiness for an emergency. The Fourth of July is celebrated by a double Fire Fall; two streams of fire fall side by side over the cliff In the autumn, before snowfall, a supply of wood is stored where it will be available for the winter season.

Mr. Curry was the first to make a ceremony of the Fire Fall. The close of the camp program and the extinguishing of all the lights are the signals that it is nine o’clock—Fire Fall time. Then follow the calls between Camp Curry and Glacier Point that have echoed since Mr. Curry first called them. “Hello, Glacier Point!” And the reply, “Are you ready, Camp Curry?” Then, “Let the fire fall!” High up at Glacier Point the living embers slowly begin to fall and continue until they become a blazing stream of red and gold swaying in the wind while sparks fly off like stars. The stream grows smaller and smaller until it becomes a mere thread of gold drawing the curtain of night, and darkness descends.

Nine o’clock in Yosemite means the Fire Fall. In recent years it has been accompanied by music, song, and whistling. The Fire Fall never grows old. No one wants to miss it. It is ever new and never twice the same. Thousands gaze upon it in awe and silence as it falls over the cliff, a glorious, brilliant stream of fire. Slowly the glory fades into darkness and another splendor is stored in memory. The following poem, written by Roland Hartley in 1932, is presented with his permission.

FIRE FALL
Roland Hartley

Flung for a moment against eternal stone,
Fire comes faintly dripping from the dark,
Trailing its evanescent veil, alone,
Between immensities of night and stark
Insensibility of sleeping earth.
Brief token of man’s love of lovely things,
Fading, fading, vanishing into dearth
Of splendor, yet leaving high imaginings
To trace new glories in the star-spread sky.
Brief like the tenuous chain of human days,
Hung between darks like man who is born to die,
Yet leaving it light to brighten other ways
Even beyond it, fading and passing by.

OF THIS SPECIAL EDITION
FOUR HUNDRED COPIES HAVE BEEN PRINTED
BY JOHNCK & SEEGER IN SAN FRANCISCO
OCTOBER, NINETEEN HUNDRED AND THIRTY-SIX
DESIGNED BY HAROLD N. SEEGER
PRESS WORK BY LAWTON R. KENNEDY

http://www.yosemite.ca.us/library/yosemite_indians_and_other_sketches/