The Coopers, Ch. 4

As if the loss of three family members was not enough for the Coopers to deal with, the conflict in Kansas erupted into Civil War just three months after Martha’s passing and it would not leave the Coopers unscathed.  The oldest of the Cooper boys, Theophilus, was 27 when war broke out and had already flown the nest to Arizona and New Mexico looking for gold.  It is unclear what 23 year old Peter Cooper Jr. was doing at the time, but no record has been found of him serving in the army although he did reside in Council Bluffs for the duration.  Of the Cooper boys, it was Isaac who was 21 at the time, and Richard Watson who was 17, who would get caught up in the conflict.

In March of 1859, Peter Cooper performed the marriage ceremony to unite his only other daughter,17 year old Lydia Mae, in marriage to Charles Hugh Hunter.  Over the next five years, the two gave Peter Cooper 4 more grandchildren.  Charles served in the Civil War with Company “K” of the Iowa Infantry and was severely wounded.  He died of his war injuries just two years after the end of the conflict on July 21^st, 1867.

Isaac Cooper was 21 when the Civil War erupted.  He enlisted with Co. F, 15th Iowa Infantry on November 18^th, 1861 as a Corporal and was promoted to Sergeant on August 25^th, 1862.  During the battle for Atlanta Georgia, on August 10, 1864, Isaac was wounded in the right shoulder, just 18 days after his brother Richard was taken prisoner in the same battle.  He recovered, and was promoted on December 17^th, 1864, to the rank of 1^st Sergeant.  Near the wars end, on January 5^th, 1865 he was promoted to the rank of 1^st Lieutenant and was mustered out of service at Louisville Kentucky on July 24^th, 1865.

Brother Richard Watson also saw service with Co. F, 15^th Iowa Volunteers, known as Crocker’s Brigade.  He was severely wounded in the ankle on April 6^th, 1862 at Shiloh but recovered well enough to continue his service.  He subsequently marched with General Sherman to the sea but was captured in the Battle for Atlanta on July 22, 1864 and served a short time in Andersonville Prison before he was released in an exchange.

The country was changing fast.  In 1869 the Transcontinental Railroad was completed at Promontory Point, Utah and suddenly, a trip from coast to coast that heretofore had taken 3 months, could be made in 7 days!  Railroads were being built all over the West, and this provided many jobs for the war weary populace.  These were “boom” years for the U.S. economy.  The women’s suffrage movement was underway with Susan B. Anthony and Elizabeth Cady Stanton making headlines regularly.  In 1870, John D. Rockefeller gave birth to Standard Oil, ushering in the Industrial age of the nation.

Life was changing in America, evidenced by the fact that, during this era many sports games appeared on the scene.  The first football game was played between Rutgers and Princeton, and organized baseball appeared in the guise of the “Chicago Baseball Club” and the Cleveland “Forest Citys.”  It seems, for the first time in history, Americans finally had time for pursuits of leisure.  In 1873, barbed wire (pronounced Bob-War, in Oklahoma) finally solved the fencing problem that had plagued the plains states since the first settlements and Levi Strauss began manufacturing his famous jeans, selling for $1.13 a pair.

Even with all this progress, Indians were still an issue.  The “Sand Creek massacre in Colorado and the Sioux war of 1865 are examples, as is “Custer’s Last Stand” in 1876, and  “Wounded Knee” in 1890.  After “Wounded Knee,” things settled down considerably, but isolated incidents continued into the 1920’s.

After the war, things would never be the same for the Coopers.  There was some joy in the family when Lydia remarried to Alfred Emmott and gave Peter Cooper 4 more grandchildren to bounce on his knee, but the joy was short lived.  Soon after the birth of their fourth child, Ruey, in 1884, Alfred and Lydia relocated to Washington State.

 Lydia Cooper with 2nd husband Alfred Emmott, son George, and Daughter Ruey, about 1898

Peter’s son William went west to join his brother Theophilus “Theo” who had been in the Arizona gold country since 1859.  William never married and never returned home.  He owned a quartz gold mine 80 miles from railroad and spent some time in Tombstone when Wyatt Earp was there.  Will told his nephew, William H. Scott, who spent some time with him along the border, "I'll stay here until the railroad comes, or leave my bones here."  In his older years it finally came, and for a time he enjoyed the comforts he had worked so hard and long for.  This pioneer died in Tombstone, Arizona in 1939 and lies buried with his brother at Willcox, Arizona.

It is said that brother Theophilus, who had been in Arizona for many years, “was of the tall and agile type.  That he helped run down Geronimo, the noted Apache chieftain, and was unhorsed and badly wounded in those battles, two shots penetrating his lungs.”  The 1867 Arizona Territorial Census lists Theophilus Cooper living in Fort Goodwin, only a year after, the fort had been overrun by Geronimo and 2,000 braves and the entire garrison of 124 men slaughtered.  It is possible that Theo joined the re-manning of the fort to assist in avenging this outrage.

                                              Geronimo 1886

  Three years later, we find Theo back in civilian life prospecting in New Mexico.  The 1870 U.S. census of “Grant, New Mexico Territory” lists Theo as a “miner” living with 3 other characters.  Research shows that prospecting was a respectable career field in the late 1800’s.  Theo never “struck it rich” or found the mother lode, and that is probably why he returned to the military for employment in his later years.  The 1898 records of Fort Bowie, just 25 miles from Willcox, AZ, show Theophilus cooper attached to troop “C” of the 4^th Cavalry, as a civilian employee.  By then, Theo was 64 years old and is listed as a “lime burner and mason.”

Theo’s sister’s grandson, Cecil Hunter, tells this story of Theophilus: “…Theo was an Indian Scout for the Army for many years in the Southwest.  He was one of Frank Fair's favorite subjects and he told one story about his being ambushed by Indians while reconnoitering.  The others in his party were killed and scalped.  Theo Cooper was scalped too, but since he had a couple of arrows s ticking out of him, they took him for dead.  He lay there bleeding in the hot sun and the cold night until they found him the next day.  At the age of 9 or 10 I was enthralled by this story, but when I mentioned him to Gram [Lydia Cooper] one time she wrinkled up her nose and remembered him as dirty, bewhiskered, and tobacco-chewing, and said she'd been afraid of him.  My hero suddenly became an ordinary man.”

Theophilus Cooper filed for a pension from his military activities and the wounds he suffered from that endeavor.  He was granted a pension on July 2^nd, 1891.  It is not known when Theo passed away, but he probably did not last long into the 20^th century.  Family oral history tells us that Theo is buried with his brother in the cemetery at Willcox, Arizona.  I visited the cemetery, found a large monument for the Coopers

The Coopers, Ch. 3

The new city of Omaha grew rapidly, and by late 1855 the temporary capitol was in place and the first newspaper had arrived.  “On Sunday, September 27, 1931, the First Methodist Episcopal Church at 20^th and Davenport Streets in Omaha, observed its 76^th anniversary.  In a beautifully illustrated church bulletin, a brief history of the church was set forth, reading in part as follows:”

The first preaching service held in Omaha was conducted by Rev. Peter Cooper, a Methodist pastor of Council Bluffs, Iowa.  Morton’s History of Nebraska has this to say regarding this service:  ‘The ferry company built the first house in Omaha….  It was a rude log structure and was occupied by Mr. And Mrs. Snowden, who kept it as a hotel during the summer and fall of 1854, more especially for the accommodation of the employees of the ferry company.  It was located on 12^th  and Jackson Streets, and was called the St. Nicholas, but was better known as the ‘Claim House.’  This was the first house and the first hotel in Omaha, and here the first religious services were held.  At the solicitation of Mr. Snowden, a Methodist Episcopal preacher, Rev. Peter Cooper crossed over from council bluffs to preach.  The following announcement of this meeting appears in the Omaha Arrow of August 4, 1854:

“Religious Notice

‘There will be preaching at the residence of Mr. Snowden in Omaha City, Nebraska Territory on Sunday the 13^th inst., at 2 o’clock P. M. by Rev. Peter Cooper, of the Methodist Episcopal Church.  The citizens of Omaha City and vicinity, also of Bluff City, are respectfully invited to attend’.

There were about twenty-five people present, a number of whom were from Council Bluffs. Rev. Mr. Cooper continued to hold services in Omaha until he was succeeded by Rev. Isaac Collins, a regularly appointed missionary pastor, who organized the First Methodist Church in September, 1855, having at that time a membership of six.  Services were then being held in the Territorial Capitol building on 9^th Street...”

In 1855/56, the political climate of the country was heating up considerably.  The Kansas/Nebraska Act of 1854 effectively repealed the Missouri Compromise of 1820 which forbade the introduction of slavery above the 36° 30’ North parallel and created the states of Kansas and Nebraska.  The settlers of these new states were to be allowed to make their own choices regarding slavery but ballot box stuffing by both sides created a state of insurrection in “Bleeding Kansas.”  After the “Sacking of Lawrence Kansas” by a pro-slavery group, John Brown and his sons came from Connecticut to strengthen the cause of the abolitionists and retaliated by perpetrating the “Pottawatomie Massacre” in 1856.  With all this activity taking place just 150 miles south of Council Bluffs, it was only a matter of time before the Coopers would get caught up in the conflict.

Daughter Martha Cooper and her new husband William Scott were very busy during these years.  While William was working with Martha’s father, Peter Cooper, providing material for the physical development of Omaha, Martha had set up the first schoolhouse and was seeing to the intellectual needs of its future citizens.  Martha and William had their first child and Peter Coopers first grandchild on March 20^th, 1856.  Martha was 24 years old and she named her son William Hamline Scott.  The middle name, Hamline, comes from Bishop Hamline of the Rock River Methodist Conference at Plainview, Illinois, who ordained and licensed Peter Cooper on July 21^st, 1850.

The next few years would not be happy ones in the Cooper family.  In August of 1858, Ann Cooper died of the Flu while attending to others who were ill with the same malady.

33 days after Ann’s passing, her daughter Martha gave birth to her second child, my great grandmother, Martha Ann Scott.

Only two years later, in December of 1860, Martha gave birth to her third child, Charles Wesley, who only survived a couple of days, and Martha herself passed away a few days later in January of 1861 from complications of the delivery; she was just shy of her 29^th birthday.

Martha’s husband William, was left to care for their 5 year old son William and 2 year old daughter Martha Ann.  In less than four years, the Coopers had lost 3 family members.

Further details of [Martha’s] life and family are indicated under the name of her husband, William A. Scott, and in a clipping from an old newspaper, found by the writer [Nelson Mason] in the trunk of her son, William Hamline., reading:

MEMOIR OF MARTHA COOPER SCOTT

[By her husband, William A. Scott]

“Martha Cooper Scott was born in New York City, May 18, 1832, and died of complicated puerperal peritonitis, January 18, 1861, near Magnolia, Iowa, in the twenty-ninth year of her age.

The subject of this memoir was blessed with religious parents, her father, Rev. Peter Cooper, having been for years an effectual and useful local preacher in the M E. Church.  As a consequence her religious impressions began early, and in her sixteenth year, on New Year’s Eve, she joined the M. E. Church, under Rev. W. Palmer in Chicago; where she was attending school.  The writer’s acquaintance with her began in 1852, at Council Bluffs, Iowa, which resulted in our marriage on April 24, 1853.

About two years after our marriage we entered the itinerancy.  Our first work was Magnolia Mission, Iowa Conference, where we traveled a year, and made many warm friends, who proved their devotion by administering to her in her last sickness.  Our last work was Indianapolis [Indianola] circuit, Iowa conference, over two hundred miles distant, and in order to go to it, she must leave all her friends and go among strangers.  How hard is the lot of the itinerant’s wife.

During this year her health began to fail, and was never good to her death.  Last spring we journeyed to the Rocky Mountains, which seemed beneficial, but proved delusive.  About three weeks before she died her little infant preceded her to the “blessed land.”

She has left her husband and two little children to mourn her early departure; but we mourn not as those who have no hope.  Little Willey, the oldest, who is nearly five years old, says his “ma has gone to help the lord take care of the little baby.”  The day before her departure, having been to all appearance dead, she suddenly aroused from her lethargy and commenced praising God aloud, and told, while her face beamed with heavenly radiance, of having seen the glories of heaven.  She described its beauties with rapture, and longed to be back again, and said that in a few hours she would be gone, and exhorted us to meet her in heaven,  Shortly after, delirium came on, during which she sang sweetly and pathetically: “There is a happy land,”

Oh, if the redeemed of the Lord sing more sweetly in Heaven, what glorious music we shall have when we all get there.  Then her mind turned to the resurrection morn, and she sang:  “Glorious morning,”

This chorus we had often sung in our protracted meetings.  What a glorious time it will be when we all rise together in that “morning!”

“Then all the ship’s company meet

Who sailed with the Savior beneath.”

Thus a beautiful life was ended, the sad event taking place at Magnolia, Harrison County, Iowa, 35 miles north of Council Bluffs.  Some years later her brothers arranged for re-burial beside the sainted mother in the little rural cemetery, a mile east of Hillsdale.  Her son, William H. Scott, has erected a red granite 

 

memorial to her memory, reading:  “Martha C. Scott, May 18, 1832; Jan. 18, 1861”

Next: Ch. 4

The Coopers, Ch. 2

When efforts to widen the Erie Canal were undertaken in 1835, there was a great demand for stonemasons.  This was an opportunity for the young family to move west, away from the congestion of New York City and that is what they did.  Peter left his brother William and ventured west, first to Philadelphia, Pennsylvania and then to Joliet, Illinois where Peter opened a new quarry to supply the building needs of burgeoning Chicago, one of the main beneficiaries of the Erie Canal.

Philadelphia was also congested and barely an improvement over their previous residence, but it was more advantageous for Peter’s work on the canal project.  Although their stay was relatively short, two new members were added to the family during their time in Pennsylvania.  Theophilus was born in 1834 and Peter Jr. was born October 7th, 1838.  The family now consisted of five members.  Peter was now 30 years old, Ann was 27 and the children were 6, 4, and 1.  At this time, Martin Van Buren had just replaced Andrew Jackson as President of the United States, the Indian removal was in full gear, the Mormons were fleeing Ohio and being run out of everywhere they settled, the new territory of Iowa had just been established, the battle of the Alamo in Texas had just been fought, and young Mr. Lincoln was making himself known in Illinois.  Peter was kept very busy working on the locks and dams of the Erie Canal, but that market was soon to diminish with the onset of a financial panic in 1837 that resulted in a depression that lasted for five years.

The young family moved on to Channahon, Illinois, 8 miles southwest of Joliet, where Peter opened up the now famous stone quarries of Joliet and delivered the first bill of cut stones ever used in Chicago.  He hauled it with wagons from Joliet to Chicago, a distance of forty miles.  This stone was used in the construction of the Demmings bank and many other new office and government buildings that were sprouting like mushrooms in the “Windy City.”  Four new family members were added during their stay in Joliet.  Isaac was born in 1839, Lydia M. was born on March 3^rd, 1842, Watson Richard was born on February 17^th, 1844, and William F. was born in 1848.

During this time, William Henry Harrison had replaced Martin Van Buren as President, but he only lasted about a month in office before he died and his Vice President, John Tyler, took the helm.  The decade of the 1840’s was a busy one for the Coopers and by the end of it, Peter had exhausted his opportunities at the quarry and launched his activities as an itinerant preacher.  Martha, their first child, turned 18 and had attended teacher’s college in Chicago, and Ann Cooper’s brother, John, became a “49er” when he traveled to California during the gold rush.

Anne’s brother is one of the few who had good luck in the gold country, and he returned in 1851 with his pockets full of money.  He must have spun a good yarn because it wasn’t long before he had convinced Ann’s sisters and brothers-in-law and, eventually, the entire Cooper clan to uproot and head west.  By “Prairie Schooner” the party made it as far as Council Bluffs, Iowa before illness prevented the Coopers from continuing.  During the trip by wagon, family legend tells of the cows of the caravan being milked, and the morning milk, placed on the shady side of the wagon boxes.  From the constant jolting of the wagons, lumps of butter would form in the containers before evening.  It must have been a bone jarring ride to cross the prairies in those days.

It was 1851 when Ann and two of the children had come down with the measles that forced them to stop for the winter in Council Bluffs.  Ann’s sisters and their husbands stayed with the Coopers for a short while, then continued on to California where they remained for the remainder of their lives, but the Coopers settled in Council Bluffs.

Peter and Ann added the final member to their family at Council Bluffs with the birth of Cornelius S. Cooper in 1853.  These were happy times for the Coopers.  Their oldest daughter, my great, great grandmother, was married on April 24^th of that year to Willaim Addison Scott.  It was the year the first survey for a transcontinental railway was authorized by congress, and the “Gadsden Purchase” was consummated in preparation for a Southern route.  The nation’s first Worlds Fair was getting underway in New York City, and Franklin Pierce had just been elected the 14^th President of the United States.

Just across the Missouri River from Council Bluffs was the future site of Omaha, Nebraska.  It had, just recently, been vacated by the Mormons who had used it for “winter quarters” before moving on to Salt Lake City.  There was a ferry at the location and a boathouse on the Omaha side of the river, but other than that and a few sod huts left by the Mormons, there was not a building to be seen.  Peter Cooper has the distinction of having preached the first sermon in Omaha, Nebraska.  He held services under an arbor attached to the boathouse shortly after his arrival in the area.  The oldest daughter, Martha, started the first Gentile school in Omaha and was its only teacher until her death in 1861 at the young age of 28.

                                                             Martha C. Cooper in 1858

The following is a description given in a letter by Peter’s son William F. Cooper:

When the family arrived in Council Bluffs, which was then called Kanesville, in June, 1851, they found not a frame building in the town.  All were log cabins built by the Mormons.  From the head of Broadway down to where the old Pacific Hotel was afterward built, there was a continuous row of log cabins on both sides of the street.  That street is now the same as when first laid out, only new buildings have taken the place of the cabins.  There were many cabins along the base of the bluffs and up the gulches, adjacent to the town, used for dwelling houses; some of them covered with clapboards while others had sod-covered roofs.  Where the Methodist church now stands was a saloon, known as the “Ocean Wave,” where many a returned miner parted with his gold dust.  Hundreds that summer occupied tents and covered wagons.  It was a continuous camp from Council Bluffs to the Missouri River.  That was the summer of the Mormon exodus.  There was no church of any kind in Council Bluffs.  Mrs. Cooper, who afterward had the reputation of being the most useful woman in Western Iowa, was nurse, doctor, friend and counselor to all who were in need.  Her services in a town like this were invaluable.

The Council Bluffs and Nebraska Ferry Company engaged Mr. Withnell to erect a good sized log cabin as a beginning for the new “Omaha City,” as it was called.  Peter Cooper, a stone cutter by trade, was engaged to lay the foundation for the building.  No stone quarries had been discovered at that time in this vicinity, but Peter Cooper with his experienced eye was not long in discovering stone in abundance southeast of the town site in what is now known as Green’s Woods.

“I was too young to work on the foundation of the first house, but I drove over from Council Bluffs with the men who did the work.  They were Peter Cooper sr., Isaac and Peter Cooper, Jr., William Jenkins and William A. Scott, his son-in-law, who had married Martha Cooper, the oldest daughter.”

Peter’s other son, Peter Cooper Jr., saw the surveyors at work laying out the new town of Omaha.  He writes:

“Father preached the first sermon under a brush bower at the southwest corner of the site for the first building.  There was not a house nor a shanty on the town site then.  Father opened a stone quarry a mile or so in the timber south of the place designated for the first building.  This building was used as a capitol for a time.  I drove the first team that hauled the first load of rock ever taken into Omaha.  The first stone was a large one laid at the northwest corner.  The town company was then burning brick in a kiln at the southwest corner of the town near a creek.  We mowed our hay that summer on the town site.  I never saw mosquitoes as large or numerous as they were that summer.  Our hands and faces were badly swollen from their stings.”


Next: Ch. 3

The Coopers, Ch. 1

 My earliest ancestors in this country are the Coopers and the Scotts.  The Scotts came by way of Nova Scotia and the Coopers came by way of England.  This is the story of the Coopers.  It begins with my great, great, great grandfather, Peter Cooper and his wife, Ann King.

When I first began my hobby of genealogy it was just a fact gathering process.  Census records, military records, city directories etc., just dry facts without color or personality.  I’m not sure when all that changed for me, but it did.  Somewhere along the way I became very interested in history.  I think it was a desire to know and understand what my predecessors had to deal with in their everyday lives.  I wanted to know what their surrounding were like, what they ate for breakfast or lunch, and what their daily activities were.  Were they happy or sad, did they attend church on Sundays, were they involved in the politics of their day, what did they have for dinner?  Just who were these people who came, lived their short window of time, and passed into history.

In my travels, I made it a point to visit many of the places they lived.  Cemeteries and genealogical centers became the focus of many of my travels and I have visited many of them.  I have seen the haunts and homes of my ancestors from one end of this country to the other and it has been a fun and fascinating journey.  It’s a strange feeling to stand where your ancestors stood, to occupy the same space they occupied many years before.

                                                                   Peter Cooper

Peter Cooper is one of those people.  I have been to his birthplace in England and his cemetery plot in Glenwood, Iowa.  When I began my research, all I knew was that he arrived in America in the 1830’s with his wife Ann (King) Cooper.  I knew that he was newly married, having departed the old country (England) on his wedding day.  At least, that is what family verbal history told me.  I wondered what had driven this stonemason to abandon his home and family and travel across the North Atlantic Ocean to a new and, at least to him, an unknown world.  I know that England, in the early 1830’s was a place of labor unrest.  The new reaping machines were putting people out of work, there was a recession in progress, and jobs of any kind were difficult to find.  Wages had been deteriorating for several years and, therefore, labor was cheap.

In this country, during that same period, Andrew Jackson was president and he had just signed the Indian Removal Act, which effectively opened up the frontier for mass settlement.  Coupled with the completion of the Erie Canal in 1825, an era of unrestrained growth along the eastern seaboard demanded the talents of many stonemasons.  Enter, Peter Cooper.

Whether it was due to the tough economic environment at home, or the promise of a growing American economy, one or the other was enough enticement for Peter and Ann to make the move.  I can just picture the young couple, in their early twenties, madly in love and facing a future at home with few opportunities.  In England, even marriage would have been out of the question without a viable means of support.  They must have had many conversations about their future before making the decision to emigrate.  It would mean leaving family and friends and giving up their familiar surroundings for a fresh start.  I wonder how much they had heard of America or if friends or family had preceded them and awed them with tales of unlimited possibilities.  When they departed, were they reaching for the “brass ring” or were they escaping a dismal future, or both?

Initially, Peter and Ann Cooper settled in New York, where Peter and his brother opened a rock quarry to supply the growing needs of the metropolis.  I had been told that Peter and Ann arrived, accompanied by Ann’s mother and two of her sisters (Charlotte, & Sarah), and a brother (John).  It was only later, after reading papers found in the family archives, that I discovered that Peter’s brother, William, was also with them in New York.  When I finally found the records of Peter and Ann’s arrival on the 12^th of September 1831, on the ship “Minerva,” there is no mention of any other members of the Cooper or King families being with them.  Peter was only 24 years old and Ann was just 21, what an exciting adventure for this young couple.  I eventually discovered the manifest of the ship “Cumberland” that brought Peter’s brother William to America on the 14^th of November 1832; a full year after Peter and Ann had arrived.

The fact that their first child Martha was born in the Bronx, (a rural country setting at the time), indicates that Peter moved out of the tenement district as soon as he could, but not before Ann’s mother was stricken by the disease that thrived in the filth and squalor of the inner city.  Ann’s mother was an early victim of the 1832 cholera epidemic in New York City, and died there shortly after their arrival.

One can only imagine the deplorable rat infested conditions the newlyweds stepped into in September of 1831.  It was not unusual for each tenement building to have its own cistern, septic pit, and trash dump in the back yard, all within close proximity to each other, and the “five corners” area, where most new immigrants found lodging, was considered a dangerous place for anybody not living there.  New York City was a bawdy seaport town in the 1830’s, and not a place to raise a family.

Peter and his brother William noticed the abundance of hard stone lying near the surface in and around the city, and recognized the opportunity they had for supplying stone for the buildings going up in the city.  Together, they opened a stone quarry where they were kept busy for the next couple of years supplying stone for the construction of Girard College.  During this time their first child Martha C. was born on the 18^th of May, 1832 in the Bronx section of New York City.  Given the arrival dates and the birthdates, either Martha C. was a preemie or she had been conceived aboard the Minerva during the transatlantic crossing!

Next: Ch. 2

My Friend Bill

My best friend from High School passed away yesterday (Feb. 22, 2011).  I met Bill at the beginning of our Junior year, he had just moved to Sacramento from Torrance, CA and our family had just moved to West Sacramento from 32^nd Avenue in South Sacramento.  We were both new at the school and that was probably why we hit it off so readily.  For the next two years, we were almost inseparable.  We did everything together.

Bill was adopted.  His adopted mother Olga was Spanish, I think, and his adopted father was a typical redneck American; Bill was the light of their lives.  I’m a little ashamed that I don’t remember Bill’s father’s name, but I do remember the man.  He was a diesel mechanic, large and rotund, and one of the nicest men I ever met.  He took us everywhere and anywhere we wanted to go.  He drove us North on the Sacramento River so we could spend a day drifting back to Sacramento on our inner tubes.  He dropped us off at the “Y” in Lake Tahoe one summer so we could spend a week trying to survive on our own.  He turned his head when we thought we were sneaking cigarettes, and he died right after we both graduated from High School.  I was not there for Bill during that difficult time.  Bill’s natural mother lived in Sacramento also.  She owned a beauty shop near the intersection of 20^th and “H” streets and we went often, to see her.

I left for England that summer after Graduation, and Bill married his High School sweetheart and settled down in Sacramento.  When I returned from Europe, Bill had found a home working in the parts department of Sacramento’s largest Ford dealership, a position he retired from many years later.  He loved stock cars and racing, and spent a lot of time in that endeavor.  He also raced sidecar motorcycles and even gave speedboats a try.  I think after the kids started arriving, he settled down a bit, but Bill was all about speed and competition.

I kept in touch with Bill over the years, and we spent three days at his home in Elk Grove on our recent tour of California.  Bill’s kids lived here in Southern California, and he always stopped by our home when he came to see them.  He made a difference in my life and it won’t be the same without him.

Uncle Lou's country store

In a recent posting I spoke about the small country stores around Sacramento before the introduction of the modern Supermarkets.  My Uncle Lou (cousin LuAnn’s father) owned one of those stores and lived in the home behind it with my Aunt Eleanor and their three daughters, LuAnn, Patty, and Sally.  Uncle Lou was a pioneer in the change from a system where the grocer collected all the items to a system where the shopper selected their own goods from stocked shelves.

There was a small stream that ran behind their property and, after visiting Google Earth, I just realized it was the same stream that I rafted on when I was 10 years old.  Of course, by the time of my adventure, they had moved on to bigger and better things.

65 years later, the store and the home behind it are still there, albeit a bit rundown compared to their heyday in the 50’s.

The front façade of the store has changed, but the size looks about right.  I guess Uncle Lou would be a better judge, but even though I was very young and had only been there a couple of times, I think I recognize everything.  It is the same country store shown in the background of the following photo of my mom and dad taken in early 1946.  It appears as though the new owners kept the same name.

Long after the family had moved from the store and its adjacent home, I had the opportunity to have Thanksgiving dinner at their new home.  It was a sprawling ranch style affair, and I remember wandering into Uncle Lou’s in-home office and being impressed by his ledger style checkbook that was lying on his desk.  Uncle Lou was a major real estate developer in and around Sacramento and unbeknownst to him, I actually lived in one of his apartments just before I moved from the city in 1964.

Uncle Lou is still with us and will be 92 later this year.  His constant activities in business and play have kept his mind sharp and his body healthy.  He is a member of Tom Brokaw's "Greatest Generation" and I admire him greatly.

Del Paso Heights

When I was 10, we lived in Del Paso Heights about 4 blocks North of Hagginwood Creek and it was one of our favorite places to play.  Dry with a sandy bottom in the summer, the creek usually flooded in the winter.  The creek was surrounded on both sides by a levee about 20 ft. high to protect the adjoining neighborhoods.

I met a friend in our neighborhood whose name I do not remember, but I do remember the house he lived in.  Our home was a recently built wood frame & stucco home much like most California homes today, but this friend lived in an adobe house!  It was out of place in the neighborhood and was on an oversized lot with a curved driveway and, of all things, a swimming pool in the back yard!  It had obviously been built long before all the other homes around it.  The floors were covered in dark red tiles and even during the hot summers, it was cool in the adobe house

There were many very good climbing trees along the levee but one in particular had an enclosed platform high up in its branches.  We were always afraid to climb up to it because we thought it belonged to the bigger boys and we didn’t want them to catch us in their clubhouse.  Also, at the time, it looked like it was 100 ft. up, a scary climb for a young boy.

During one very wet winter, Hagginwood Creek was full almost to the top of the levees.  My friend Richard and I built a raft and used long bamboo poles to guide our craft along, but it wasn’t long before our poles wouldn’t reach the bottom and we were at the mercy of the current.  We coasted down the creek almost to where it dumps into the American River before we panicked and abandoned our vessel.  It was a scary ride and a long walk back home, but it was quite and adventure.  We always wondered if that raft ever made it to the delta or got entangled along the bank somewhere.

Looking back, it seems like everything was scary in Del Paso Heights.  To be sure, I had a lot of fun while we lived there but it was the time in my life when I wasn’t a kid any more.  It was in the Heights that I was thrown in with a lot of older kids and witnessed two boys fighting for the first time.  I think it was the first time I realized I was alone in the world and that I would be dependent on my own devices to find my way.  I was rapidly approaching my teen years and needed to grow up.  No more crying and running to mommy.  It’s funny, but I never realized where the changes in my life had taken place until I started writing this, but looking back on those days has caused me to re-live some of those experiences and I can see now that Del Paso Heights was one of those turning points.

Like most places we lived, we were only in Del Paso Heights for about a year.  Below is a map of Sacramento showing all the places we lived during my 18 years there.  What is not shown on the map is the two places we lived in during the year we spent in Lake Tahoe, a short stay in the Chico/Paradise area when I was very young, and a few places where our stay was so short I don’t even count them.

I think, if you looked up the word “Gypsy” in the dictionary, you would probably find a photo of our family.

Adventures in Sacramento

There was never a shortage of new adventures to be found in and around Sacramento.  The old Gold country was all around us in the form of “Hangtown” (commonly known as Placerville), El Dorado, Diamond Springs and several others.  It was like taking a trip back in time to visit these gold mining towns from the 1850’s and we were the consummate time travelers.  Most of the old buildings from the 1860’s were still standing and several of the towns still had wooden sidewalks.

If you like to fish (ho-hum) there was always the Sacramento River which was also a good place to swim if you were above it’s confluence with the very cold water of the American River.  Now and then we would venture into the waters of Folsom Lake, but it had to be a very hot day since Folsom Lake fed the American River and was the source of its cold water.  One time we got a very large inner tube from and aircraft and inflated it until it was about ten feet in diameter and took it to Folsom Lake.  It rode so high in the water, it was impossible to climb on it from the outside so, to get aboard, it was necessary to go up through the center and use the valve stem as a stepping stone.

There was another place we went to swim known as the Slough House.  It was deep in the Gold country and remote but there was a bridge we used as a jumping platform.  I did not like the Slough House because of the Emerald Green water.  I always thought water should be blue or, in any case, brown, but not green.  I guess I thought the “Creature from the Black Lagoon” was living in its depths.

Another of our popular pastimes was shooting rabbits.  We would all pile into the back of someone’s pickup truck and drive out near the farming community of Dixon.  Dixon was near UC Davis, and many of the faculty farmed plots as part of their studies, much as the faculty at UC Riverside do today.  They didn’t mind us driving over their fields after the harvest to shoot those pesky, troublesome rabbits.  One of my friends was Dave M. and his father was a professor at UC Davis.  Dave’s father was one of the guys who worked a 40 acre parcel in Dixon.  Try to imagine 4 or 5 guys in the back of a pickup, armed with everything from 45 caliber pistols, 22 caliber rifles, to shotguns careening around a 40 acre parcel of flatland and unloading their weapons at one poor little bunny who happened to get caught in the headlights.

Dave and I were at his home one day and we were in his room looking for something, I don’t remember what.  Dave found a “starters pistol” and started playing with it.  In short order, it went off and left us both staring at each other in stunned silence.  We were talking to each other but the only sound we could hear was the ringing in our ears.  It was several minutes before we could hear again.

If the local area did not keep us occupied, there was always Lake Tahoe, a few miles to the East.

Interstate 80 is the main route to Tahoe and follows the original path of the Transcontinental Railroad through Truckee and Donner Pass, but it takes you to the North Shore of Lake Tahoe, and all the activity is at the South Shore.  Highway 50 was the old route through most of the Gold Country and much more scenic.  It runs into Lake Tahoe at the “Y,” only a couple of miles from the border of Nevada; Stateline

We lived at the “Y” for about a year when I was 12 or 13 years old, just about 6 miles from Emerald Bay.

It is an area close to the gambling mecca across the border at Stateline.  Ski resorts, campgrounds, and most of the best beaches at the lake are within walking distance.

Our First Television

I remember when we got our first television set.  It was 1952 and we were one of the first families in our neighborhood to have one.  It was a large console Motorola that incorporated a record player and a radio along with the black and white video set.  Initially we used a “Rabbit Ears” antenna but we soon opted for a roof mounted unit that provided much better reception.  I remember helping my dad install a 20 foot antenna on top of our roof with guy wires to keep it in place.

As a young boy, my favorite television programs were all about cartoons.   The early days (1952) of the Beany & Cecil puppet show was one of my favorites, as was Crusader Rabbit and his sidekick “Rags,” the tiger.  Crusader Rabbit and Rags were always being tricked by their arch nemesis, Dudley Nightshade.  I used to wonder why they couldn’t tell he was a bad guy, with his long slender mustache, black clothes, and sneaky demeanor, but they always got fooled by him.

After a couple of years passed we got three channels in Sacramento, ABC, CBS, and NBC, and the programming was decidedly improved.  A new program came on the air in the mid 50’s and it was one that I almost never missed.  It was the Popeye show with “Skipper Stu” and his Popeye cartoons.  I loved Popeye cartoons, and still do.  You could always count on Popeye to give Bluto his comeuppance, and the nice guy always won.  The show originated in Sacramento, and was hosted by none other than a very young Stu Nahan, the same guy that was a sports anchor on almost every television station in L.A. for over 30 years.

Television has sure changed since then.  In the 50’s, programming was only available for a few hours each day, and at night the stations would go off the air with their familiar test patterns.  They would fire up the next day with the same pattern and a little hoopla.  All commercials were one minute long, and any given show was sponsored by one product, mainly automobile companies or Beer.  Hmmm’, no wonder there is so much drinking and driving!

Some of the shows we watched back then were Ozzie and Harriet, Father Knows Best, Sargeant Bilko, The Life of Riley, My Little Margie, The Honeymooners, The Lone Ranger, and The Cisco Kid.  Then there was a show that caused a national craze, Walt Disney’s Davy Crockett.  Davy was “Born on a mountain top in Tennessee,” and I think almost every kid in the United States had a coonskin cap; I know I did.  I cannot finish this without mentioning one of the funniest comedies ever produced, Amos & Andy.  You can still find a few episodes of Amos & Andy on You Tube.

Extraterrestrials, Yes or No?

Do you believe that extraterrestrials exist?  Do you think they have been here before, in ancient times?  If the answer to these questions is “Yes” how do you fit that reality into your philosophical outlook?  I, for one, would answer “Yes” to those questions.  I have had two experiences in my life that lead me to believe this, and there is much written and archeological evidence to support it.

Most of us who live in or near a large city have never seen a clear picture of the night sky.  I’m not talking about a view that is not hidden by clouds or fog or smog, but a view that is not obscured by ambient light!  Ambient light has become such a problem for the Mount Palomar observatory, that all the communities within a given radius (something like 50 miles) are required to burn special bulbs in their street lights.  To really appreciate the beauty of the night sky you have to get away from all that ambient light, and that is not always easy to do.  Not easy, but well worth the effort.

As a young boy in the early 1950’s, I remember my “awe” laying on our front lawn and staring up at the heavens.  I remember seeing the Milky Way for the first time and realizing that I was looking at the center of our galaxy!  Stargazing became one of my favorite things to do, and whenever the nights were warm enough you could probably find me lying on the front lawn looking up.  One night in 1954 I was doing just that when I had my first experience with something very unusual.

As I was fixating on individual points of light and wondering what it was like in those other worlds (thinking at the time that they were like planets), one of the stars suddenly moved!  In a flash, it moved from one position to another.  It moved at a speed comparable to a shooting star which we all know, is faster than any manmade objects.  Not knowing how far away it was, I could not estimate how far it moved, but if I held my hands out at arms length, it move the distance of both of my hands, quite a large arc in the sky.  It stopped for just a second or two, then moved again perpendicular to the first move but only about half the distance.  Again, it stopped for just a second and then, with the same blazing speed, flew out of sight.  I laid there dumbfounded.  The whole episode lasted less than 5 seconds.

I never forgot that incident, and about five years later on one of my excursions to San Francisco, I witnessed another strange event; this time there were thousands of witnesses to corroborate my story.  I was on a Greyhound bus with my brother Kenneth and we were approaching the Eastern side of the Oakland/Bay bridge.  Looking across the bay toward the cliffs on the Frisco side of the Golden Gate Bridge, we saw a huge red/orange ball, outside the bay and half hidden by the cliffs.  If its diameter can be estimated by its proximity to the Golden Gate Bridge, then the ball had a diameter of over 500 feet!  We both saw it and wondered about it, but we were getting close to our destination and the subject took a backseat to our immediate needs.

We had almost forgotten about the red ball when we heard a report on television that evening that the mysterious object “shot up into the air at fantastic speed and disappeared.”  That event can be confirmed by checking the archives of the San Francisco Chronicle Newspaper.

Philosophically speaking, if we can’t even deal with Darwin’s Theory of Evolution, how in the hell will we ever deal with the existence of extraterrestrials when they are eventually confirmed?

Typical day in 1957

A typical day in the summer of 1957 would find me walking north on 15^th street toward the state capitol building.  The site for the capitol building was girded by 9^th street on the west, 15^th street on the east, L Street on the north and N street on the south.  The actual building and rotunda is centered on 11^th street and only covers about three acres, but is surrounded by almost 50 acres of manicured park.  If the weather was hot I would take a path through the park and through the building, just to enjoy the cool air inside.  A massive and beautiful sculpture of Queen Isabella and Columbus is on display in the Capitol Rotunda.

On this typical day I was probably on my way to watch the excavation for the new Macy’s department store that was being built at 4^th and “K” streets.  What made it so interesting, back then, was the discovery of another city beneath the existing streets!  At some point around the turn of the century, because the city flooded so often in the rainy season, it was decided to raise all future development above flood level.  I’m not sure if it was a conscious effort or whether the area was silted in during one the flood episodes, but the old masonry and adobe walls of the original structures as well as many artifacts were left in place.  It seems like they just built a new town on top of the old one.

When the ruins were exposed it was possible to see entire street scenes and old storefronts of structures built during the days of the gold rush.  One small section of “Old Town” has been excavated and is used, today, as a tourist attraction but during the construction of Macy’s in the 1950’s, I witnessed the exposure of an entire city block!  I could clearly see relics sticking out of the soil and wanted to do some scavenging, but the authorities had already moved in and the site was well guarded.

Another attraction for me in that area of town was the old second floor pool hall and the adjoining pinball arcade where I could mix with Sacramento’s finest.  As close as I can remember, it was near the intersection of 3^rd and “J” streets, just two blocks from the waterfront and 1 block from the train station.  It was near Sacramento’s “Chinatown” and an area frequented by hobos and winos and there was usually at least one or two of them sprawled on the sidewalk drinking from brown paper bags.  When we were teenagers, these winos were very helpful to us.  For the cost of a 3 dollar bottle of Gallo Port wine, they would purchase all of our beer and other liquors.

All of that old flavor is gone today.  The slum area around the train station has been cleaned up, new interstate freeways have sliced through some of the old neighborhoods, and a new freeway river crossing has relieved the congestion on the old “I” Street and Tower Bridges.  Sutter’s Fort is surrounded by new apartment buildings and seems almost forgotten, buried in the urban sprawl.

Along with John Sutter, Leland Stanford, Charles Crocker, Mark Hopkins, and Collis P. Huntington are all big names in California history.  Except for John Sutter, all of them were investors in the Central Pacific Railroad and involved in bringing the transcontinental railroad to it’s terminus in Sacramento, and all of them spent some time in Sacramento.  Their names are synonymous with the town and are attached to street names, schools, libraries, banks, and other public buildings.  Knowing the changes I have seen in my time, I wonder what they would think if they could see their old “stomping grounds” today.

As a sidenote, I want to thank my friend Ray R. for enlightening me regarding the story and history of the Transcontinental Railroad.  It is a fascinating tale and a major turning point in the development of our country.

Sacramento Bridges

The original route in and out of Sacramento to the west was by way of the “I” street bridge, constructed in 1911.  The bridge doubled for railroad and vehicle traffic with the railroad using the bottom level and autos above.  The “I” street bridge is a swing bridge with the center portion resting on a single pier in the middle of the river.  When ships needed to pass, the bridge would rotate until it was aligned parallel with the river creating a passage on either side.  I’ve never seen another one like it.

The “I” street bridge was originally part of State Route 16 and passed through West Sacramento and then joined a causeway and what would become Interstate 80, three miles out of town.  The causeway was, itself, a 3 mile long roadway that traversed the lowlands on the west side of the Sacramento River.  It was built partly on raised dirt fill and partly on wooden piles driven into the mud below.  There were two such pathways that paralleled each other, one for vehicle traffic and one for the railroad.  The area around the causeway was usually under water, and was farmed extensively for rice production.

Partly to facilitate future war efforts and partly to relieve depression era unemployment, it was decided to construct a better bridge across the Sacramento River; Enter the Tower Bridge.  Completed in 1935, the Tower Bridge is amazingly reminiscent of it’s cousin in London, England and is also a vertical lift bridge.

The Tower Bridge in Sacramento probably derives its name from it’s European cousin and it dawned on me while I was looking up all this information that all the “Tower” references (Tower Theater, Tower Records) in and around Sacramento are probably related to this same source!  Imagine that, Tower Records and Tower Books being named after a London landmark.

Sacramento has two very unusual bridges less than half a mile apart and one of them, the Tower Bridge, has become a national landmark.  When I was growing up there, the area along the river between the bridges was a very run down part of town but it has had a facelift and is now called “Old Town.”  It has become a tourist attraction and is the home of  that old paddlewheel steamboat, the “Delta King,” permanently tied up along the rivers edge.

Recollections

In the 50’s, we earned money by collecting bottles.  Most bottles had a redemption value and we kept ourselves in soda pop and candy bars by hauling boxes of bottles to the local markets to collect our bounty.  Scavenging golf balls from errant shots and reselling them was also a steady source of revenue as was mowing lawns and, in season, selling mistletoe door to door.  Mistletoe is a parasite and was abundant in the trees where we lived.

It was the time of Gene and Eddy and the birth of Rock & Roll.  Elvis, Jerry Lee, Buddy Holly, Little Richard, and Fats Domino, are just a few of the early stars of those days, pumping out 45’s at a rate designed to keep a young boy in the poorhouse.  A 45 rpm record cost about a dollar at the Tower Records store near the corner of 15^th and Broadway.  Tower Records was attached to the Tower Theater and is the birthplace of the Tower Records we know today.  The records were in paper sleeves and after selecting the one you wanted to hear, you would take it into a booth, put it on a turntable, and voila, music.  Little did we know how all this would change so radically.

One of the major changes during the 50’s was the introduction of Jet aircraft for passenger travel.  The Boeing 707 came into use in 1958 and slowly replaced the 4 engine, propeller driven, Constellation that was the leading passenger carrier at the time.  I’m sure there are many of us who can remember sitting on the runway for what seemed like an eternity while the pilot warmed up the engines.  I remember my amazement when I first flew in a jet and the pilot barely aligned himself with the runway before he applied full throttle and we were off!  Such a little thing, but such a noticeable difference.

Contrary to popular lore, the music did not die in an Iowa cornfield that day in February 1959.  Nor did it die a year later in April 1960 when Eddie Cochran met his Waterloo when he and “Bad Boy” Gene Vincent were in an automobile accident while touring England.  Like everything else, the music only changed.  Further change was apparent when the gaudy “Fins” and chrome on automobiles faded away along with “whitewall” tires, fender skirts, hood ornaments, and  “Continental Kits.” 

The transistor was invented about this time, and it wasn’t long before it replaced most of the old vacuum tubes in radios, televisions and all things electronic.  The Japanese were quick to take advantage of the new technology by producing some of the world’s first transistor radios.  A typical one was about the size of a cigar box (another relic of the times) and because it could run on batteries, it was portable.  My first one was a red leather encased “Emerson.”  Small compact tape recorders soon followed.

In the 50’s, Japanese products had a horrible reputation for cheapness and shoddy workmanship, much like the Chinese products have today.  It was so bad that the Japanese actually renamed one of their manufacturing centers “USA” (pronounced like Yoosa) and then stamped “Made in USA” on their products in an attempt to deceive the American market.  It didn’t work but by the time the first Datsuns and Toyotas started showing up over here, the Japanese had gotten their act together and became leaders in quality control.

Even with all the new technological advances, change was not so obvious while we were living it.  Compared to the logarithmic expansion of technology today, it almost seems like we were standing still.