It's the "last building" many times over, including being one of the last buildings you would ever think was notable. It was the last work in the North Bay of a great architect, and likely one of his last completed designs. It is the last remaining grand lodge hall in Santa Rosa, a survivor from a time when anyone downtown was only a few steps away from the imposing home of Elks or Eagles or other. It is the last building tied to Santa Rosa's culture during the early Twentieth Century, when most everyone flocked to weekend dances and big parties. It is still there at 404 Mendocino Avenue, and its doors opened on February 25, 1909.

William H. Willcox was an esteemed architect (introduced here) who created quite a storm in the months before the 1906 earthquake. He presented a vision where Santa Rosa might leapfrog San Jose and other up-and-coming Bay Area communities and become a showcase for modern urban development. Santa Rosa Creek was to be transformed into a waterfront park that would be the centerpiece of an expanded downtown that included a convention auditorium large enough to host statewide and even national events. Investors lined up and he was only weeks (days?) away from having enough funding to break ground for the big pavilion when the quake struck. Money immediately dried up as the bankers and speculators concentrated on rebuilding their downtown holdings. The earthquake and fires not only took 77 lives, but also killed off Santa Rosa's brightest possible future.

He served as Santa Rosa's building inspector immediately after the quake, a time when a dozen or so architects in San Francisco and Berkeley were winning contracts to design the town's new hotels and office buildings. As far is known, Willcox received none of this work (although one building appeared to rip off his convention hall design). It's possible he had jobs in San Francisco, or was too busy because so much on-site supervision was required of him to enlarge and modernize Hood Mansion at Los Guilicos, which was completed in 1908.

Willcox appeared destined to leave no legacy in Santa Rosa at all, so it was surprising to find in the 1909 newspapers that one of his pre-quake designs was actually built and about to open. The building was the lodge hall for the Native Sons of the Golden West (NSGW, to its friends).


Construction of the building apparently began in late 1907, per the medallion on the wall. It could have started much sooner, had the fraternal society not welcomed Santa Rosa to use their vacant lot as the temporary site of a shantytown for city hall and the rest of the civic center in the sixteen months after the quake. During this time gap Willcox modified the design of the building in several ways, and we're lucky to have a copy of his original drawing as well as his revision.

All versions of the front face - including what was actually built - were equal parts California Mission Revival Style and Romanesque. With its overhanging tile eaves and Spanish-baroque parapet, the roofline was strongly Mission, particularly when there still was a north tower to showcase more tile. Everything below that is Romanesque, but not busy; even today, the archtop ribbon windows against the smooth stucco wall looks clean and modern-ish. Few architects could blend these very different styles so successfully. "Masterpiece" might be going too far, but it's truly damned impressive.

TOP: Drawing published 1906 (Mar. 4 Press Democrat)
MIDDLE: Drawing
published 1909 (May 6 Republican)
BOTTOM: Circa 1935 postcard


The roof design evolved the most. Originally Willcox plopped a cupola on the north end to be the base for a flagpole. He did much the same in his convention center design, and those two 1906 drawings even show U.S. and state flags fluttering in the same way over the buildings. In the later NSGW drawing, the cupola became a steep pinnacle over columns suggesting a tower with turrets. The California motto, "EUREKA", was now in framed relief as part of the wall. In the finished version, the pinnacle became squat and more conventional while the turrets became taller and heavier. If you isolated the profile of the northwest corner as shown in the 1935 postcard, it could be the bell tower of a nice Methodist church. Today the north tower is completely gone and as a result, you can't look at the building from the other side of the street without thinking how strangely lopsided it seems.


On the south end of the roof, design changes were less dramatic. The parapet was simplified and lost its flagpole. Instead, there was a "brilliant electric star that burned on top of the turret outside," according to the description below. Solomon's Seal (not a Star of David; the NSGW wasn't a Jewish group) remained unchanged through all the versions. On the second floor, the Palladian windows at either end of the building became single windows framed by engaged columns, which nicely complimented the entranceway.

With its large upstairs ballroom and banquet facilities, the hall was an immediate hit with the social set, accommodating parties too large - and maybe, too boisterous - for the Saturday Afternoon Clubhouse, which was about Santa Rosa's only other venue for rent. If you danced before 1940, you danced here. Hardly a week went by in following decades without the papers announcing one or two doings down at Native Sons' hall, and according to "Santa Rosa's Architectural Heritage," the Native Sons of the Golden West only sold the place after it was declared unsafe to continue hosting large gatherings.

Sadly, the only interior view we have shows just the lodge room (besides the large image below, the Sonoma County Library supposedly has a partial view taken from another angle, but the details don't match). While Willcox went through multiple revisions of the exterior until he elegantly simplified the design, this photo shows a Beaux-Arts mess. Under a breathtaking stained glass skylight were walls smothered with fussy ornament, from swags to thick entablature to oversized corbels to ribbon molding over arches interrupted with band molding. There was an architrave in the arch behind the dais, although that's the sort of detail you normally only find above the doorway of cathedrals.

In sum: It looked like a wedding cake where the baker kept larding on more layers of mascarpone decorations just to jack up the bill. Except for the skylight, maybe it's not such a tragedy that the interior has been since remodeled to death and apparently retains no original details (some interior views are available via the leasing agent).

Even while Willcox was collecting Santa Rosa's praise, he wasn't collecting money from the City Council that he thought was his due. His lawyer threatened suit over $1,630: $1,000 for plans drawn up before the earthquake for the E street bridge, and $630 for a firehouse design. Whether he was paid or even had a legitimate case is unknown, but Empire Building architect John Galen Howard had also submitted plans for a new fire station, so Willcox probably had cause to believe the city was soliciting designs (the City Council decided to go on the cheap and just build a replica of the old 19th century building). As for the bridge, Willcox had already demanded $300 for the blueprints in 1907, which is probably why the Press Democrat dryly noted, "Mr. Willcox's claims have been heard from before."

Willcox probably didn't work again in the North Bay (although he died twenty years later at the Veteran's Home in Yountville), but the PD had another little item about him in 1909, noting that he had a commission to design the Elks Hall/office building in Stockton. That turned out to be a nice but undistinguished design in a restrained Beaux Arts style (picture here). He stayed active as an architect through at least part of the 1910s, but it's unknown if he actually built anything after Stockton. If not, the Native Sons' hall in Santa Rosa will stand as his last great work.




New Structure on Mendocino Street for Which the Plans Have Just Been Adopted

One of the finest structures to be built in Santa Rosa this year is the handsome Native Sons' Hall which is to occupy a conspicuous lot within half a block of the Courthouse, on Mendocino street adjoining the Riley property. It will be a building worthy of the advancement and progress of the City of Roses and one that will be redound with credit to Santa Rosa Parlor of Native of Sons of the Golden West [sic], whose home it will be, and an attractive ornament to the city.

As stated in this paper the plans for the building were finally adopted at a meeting of the directors of the Santa Rosa Native Sons' Hall Association  incorporated, and the accepted design is reproduced in the picture above.

Judge Emmet Seawell is the president of the Board of Directors of the Hall Association. The plans were accepted after very careful consideration, the object being to have a structure that would meet all requirements.

Santa Rosa Parlor has a large and growing membership and the securing of such a commodious and comfortable home, with the additional attraction of the social features that the possession of clubrooms will afford is sure to prove advantageous in an increase of membership. While the social and fraternal sides were considered it was also deemed advisable to see that the building should be made a good financial [illegible microfilm] has been given that it will be so.

The plans adopted call for a two story building, modified Mission style, with handsome entrance and wide stairway to the upper floor. The lower floor will be divided into four stores, 20 feet wide in the clear, with modern plate glass fronts and marble base. The upper floor will include the largest and handsomest lodge room in the city, commodious ante-rooms, handsome club rooms, large banquet hall, with kitchen, pantries, and all necessary conveniences. There will be a stage in the banquet room and a fine floor in the hall for dancing. The estimated cost of the building with the furnishings is $30,000. The plans accepted were those prepared by Architect William H. Willcox of this city.

- Press Democrat, March 4, 1906


NATIVE SONS GATHER IN MAGNIFICENT NEW HOME
Santa Rosa Parlor Officers Are Installed

Santa Rosa Parlor of the Native Sons of the Golden West took formal possession of their fine hall and clubrooms on Thursday night, and right proud are the members over the completion and acquisition of their handsome new home. They have a right to be. The City of Roses is also particularly pleased over the addition of such a noble structure to her newer and greater self.

Thursday night's installation of the new officers of the Parlor in the new hall was the first regular meeting, for the previous meeting of the parlor held there, was a special one. There was a large gathering of the members present, and they entered heartily into the occasion and its attendant significance. The brilliant electric star that burned on top of the turret outside furnished a suggestion of the welcome inside, and the idea was admired by many who looked up at the lights and were informed of the importance of the gathering within.

Inside and outside the Native Sons' building presents an attractive appearance. Many citizens have been privileged with an inspection of the building, and have come away expressing their admiration for it. The entrance, with its marble finish, broad stairs and clusters of lights, is very imposing, and a fitting introduction to the fine equipment of the building. The reception hall at the top of the stairs is very neat and right here it can be truthfully said that Architect William H. Willcox planned very cleverly in the arrangement of the building throughout, and is certainly entitled to congratulations. He is personally proud of the successful completion of his plans.

From the hall entrance is gained to the main lodge room, the clubrooms and the dance hall. The lodge room is a beauty. It presents a very attractive picture, particularly with the arch and and dome effects that have been carried out in its construction. The lighting, by stained glass skylight by day, and by a myriad of electric globes by night, is most effective.

The lodge room furnishing is also very tasteful. The mahogany furniture and chairs upholstered in Spanish leather. and the fine Brussels carpet on the floor add a finish that is very pleasing.

Mention has already been made of the dance hall. This will be a thing of beauty and a joy to devotees of the fascinating pastime for years to come. When all is completed and the bevelled mirrors adorn the walls and other artistic furnishings are seen in all their radiance there is no doubt of the popularity of the place for dances and parties. The orchestra will be stationed in the northeast corner of the room.

The same style of elegance that is noted in the other rooms applies to the clubrooms. There is a home-like appearance at once gives the rooms by the large fireplace and its African marble finish. In these rooms there will be billiard tables and other accessories for the pleasure of the members. The possession of this notable home should be the means of bringing into the fold of Santa Rosa Parlor all the available membership.

The banquet room must not be lost sight of, either. It is in the third story, and when fully equipped will be as nice a place for its purpose as could be found anywhere. Then there are the dressing rooms and the other offices, all complete in their details, and designed with the idea of comfort and convenience uppermost.

There is no doubt but that Santa Rosa has one of the finest homes the order has in the Golden West, and there are very few fraternal buildings of the kind to be found anywhere in the state that excell [sic] it.

[..]

- Press Democrat, February 26, 1909


Willcox's Claims

Attorney G. W. Barlett of San Francisco sent a letter stating that W. H. Willcox, the architect, had referred to him his claim for $630 for plans which Willcox says he once furnished to the city for a fire department station, and $1,000 for plans for the E street bridge. The letter was referred to City Attorney Allison B. Ware for consideration. Mr. Willcox's claims have been heard from before. Bartlett threatened a suit.

- City Council notes, Press Democrat, September 22, 1909


SANTA ROSA ARCHITECT WINS
Wm. H. Willcox's Plans for Stockton Elks Hall are Accepted

The plans for the new $100,000 Elks hall and building in the city of Stockton prepared by William H. Willcox, the well known architect of this city, have been accepted and naturally Mr. Willcox and his friends here are very much pleased at the recognition given. Mr. Willcox has a fine record as an architect and has designed many large and important buildings in this and other states. The building in Stockton is to be a magnificent structure and will be modern and unique in many respects.

Mr. Willcox's friends among the members of Santa Rosa Elks lodge are very much pleased over the fact that his plans have been accepted. Mr. Willcox is one of the "baby Elks" of Santa Rosa lodge, that is he was one of the last of the new members to be initiated.

- Press Democrat, February 1, 1909

A well-written Christmas story is a treasure to find, and the Press Democrat's historical fiction serial, "XMAS SR 06" fulfills that promise.  Each of the seven chapters was created by a different author, and the good news is that the overall writing is excellent, sometimes great. I've reread a couple of the more well-turned chapters with envy of the author's talents with word and phrase.

Less successful was its presentation as a serial. With each chapter constrained to about 1,200 words, plot trumps prose; writers had to begin by resolving the situation from the previous chapter and finish with a setup for the next. That doesn't leave much room to stretch out and explore a character or subplot. "XMAS SR '06" suffers because of this, and I would not have enjoyed the series as much if not for finding the extended version of chapter three on the author's blog. It's almost three times longer than the printed version and puts flesh on the character's otherwise thin bones; definitely read it instead of the abbreviation that appeared in the paper and on its web site.

The other significant problem is that "XMAS SR '06" is supposed to be set in 1906 Santa Rosa, yet there's very little there there - and for that matter, there's scant little then there. Change just a few words in each chapter and the story could have taken place after the 1940 London Blitz or the 1864 sacking of Atlanta. The historical aspect of most of the writing comes across as if the authors were playing a game of Mad Libs: Reach into the hat and pull out the name of an old patent medicine, a quaint bit of slang and a name of something or a place associated with Santa Rosa. See you 1,200 words later.

Then there are the factual mistakes. The worst clinker is in chapter one, when the main character walks down Fourth street and comments on the missing courthouse: "I'd passed it 100 times since April, but still I couldn't get used to seeing that big empty lot." Surprise! The wreckage of courthouse was still there at the time of the story. Only a few weeks earlier, on Nov. 17, the city had finally awarded the contract to demolish the ruins, and it wasn't until May, 1907, before the lot was cleared of the last shrubbery. And even when the authors got it right, they got it wrong. A plot point concerns a newspaper ad for an unbreakable doll that was "torn from Grandpa's precious Press Democrat." Just such an advertisement really did appear - but only in the rival Santa Rosa Republican, which presumably didn't meet his standards of preciousness.

(RIGHT: Advertisement from the December 6, 1906 Santa Rosa Republican)

I could quibble further (much, much further), but I'm sure the authors would argue that they had artistic license to write as they please. I completely agree with that. But if it's called "historical" fiction, it should have more than a homeopathic droplet of true, historical elements. Otherwise, what's the point? Turn 1906 Santa Rosa into a fishing village and after the earthquake hits, have seagulls attack townspeople. Everyone pecked to death becomes a zombie (wait! a swordfighting zombie!) until Luther Burbank battles the army of the undead with the enchanted silver spade given to him by the king of the garden gnomes.

Because the factual history of Santa Rosa's 1906 Christmas wasn't incorporated into the story, everybody lost. Readers missed a rare opportunity to learn something about the town; the writers lost the chance to tell a better tale. If that little girl was morose from passing by an empty lot, for example, imagine how awful she would have felt about scuffling along next to the hulking shambles of the old courthouse - a depressing reminder of the earthquake that stubbornly couldn't be ignored and wouldn't be wished away. The writers even had the chance to describe exactly what it was like downtown that month. At a city council meeting the Fire Chief complained about "dangerous holes and planks across sidewalks, projections from buildings and piles of materials on sidewalks." In other words, the characters would have been Christmas shopping in the middle of a busy and hazardous construction zone. That's a colorful detail worth a mention, right?

But saddest of all, those who outlined the plot for "XMAS SR '06" overlooked real events that would have transformed the story into something far more interesting. That same month, Santa Rosa was hotly divided over what to do with the $60,000 that had accumulated in the earthquake relief fund. The popular consensus was that it should be distributed to victims and their survivors, which is surely what donors intended. On the other side was a faction arguing it should be used for the betterment of the town, such as putting it into the Building Fund to pay for the new courthouse. Leading those who wanted to grab the money for city hall was the Press Democrat, which took the position that individuals harmed by the disaster were no longer in distress, so they didn't deserve anything: "Those who suffered injury are in no need of assistance and those who suffered not at all are really better off than they ever were before," PD editor Ernest Finley argued, Scrooge-like. Only after a bitter fight was it agreed that the money should go to those who suffered.

For the characters of "XMAS SR '06," the outcome of that decision could have been life-changing. If the money were to go to the victims and survivors, the motherless children and widower father stood to be awarded many hundreds, even a few thousand dollars - enough money to restart their pre-quake business and resume something like a normal family life. A happy ending (somewhat). Without the money, the family would continue plodding along its mournful, directionless path. You can bet everyone in the story would have followed every daily turn in the debate with avid and nervous interest as their fates were being decided.

And, of course, it would also have been fun to explore Grandpa's conflicted relationship with his "precious Press Democrat" once he realized the newspaper wanted to screw over his family. That could have been a chapter in itself: "ANGRY GRANDPA CANCELS HIS PRESS DEMOCRAT SUBSCRIPTION." I can't imagine why that wasn't part of the "XMAS SR '06" story.

Seriously ill? In late 19th century Sonoma County there were faith-healers, physicians and quacks. And then there was Mrs. Preston, who was something of all three combined.

From 1876 until her death in 1909, Emily Preston practiced medicine by mail and from her home on the Russian River, two miles outside Cloverdale. Or rather, she didn't "practice medicine," as claiming to do so could have got her into a world of trouble, seeing as she had no medical training whatsoever. Instead, she saw patients and diagnosed their sickness, then sold them homemade medicines. Completely different thing, right?

(RIGHT: Mrs. Emily Preston. Undated photo courtesy Sonoma County Library)

Madam Preston was not a huckster or a complete spiritualist nutcase like Fountaingrove's Thomas Lake Harris, but she did believe God communicated with her via otherworldly "photographs" and messages written on "walls of light." Probably thousands of people believed she had cured them via her hotline to God, some devoting their lives in her service. On the large ranch owned by Emily and husband Hartwell, followers built the community of Preston. At its peak c. 1895-1900, there were up to 200 residents with a school, post office, general store, train station, lumber yard, a water system, bottling works and a church where she preached the "Religion of Inspiration." There was also Emily and Hartwell's 18-room Italianate home and a 20-room convalescent hospital (both completely destroyed in a 1988 fire, along with most other buildings). In summer the community adjourned for two months to a camp near Preston Lake, where people from Cloverdale joined them for their Fourth of July festivities. Everyone was likewise welcome at Madam Preston's sermons at the camp's Church of the Wildwood, where she read to them what she saw mystically written in the air.

Also called the "Preston Colony," the village (Emily Preston, mayor) and its Prestonites existed to serve the little industry founded by Madam Preston. They filled mail orders for medicine and accommodated a steady parade of pilgrims seeking a consultation from Madam during her Monday office hours, where she offered patients a glass of cordial as she stared at them for several unspoken minutes to diagnose their sickness. Some of the afflicted would stay on for treatment at the Preston hospital/sanitarium or seek boarding at nearby resorts, maybe in a Cloverdale hotel when all Preston beds were filled. Mrs. Preston also kept an office in San Francisco where she saw patients. But most who sought her help did so through writing, and she believed her divine powers allowed her to "diagnosticate [sic] cases at a distance."

We know nothing about Mrs. Preston's true diagnostic skills, but we do know a fair amount about her treatment methods, which were spelled out in her pamphlet, "Price List of Medicines and How to Use Them." Before discussing that topic, it must be said that apparently many who sought her help were considered hopeless cases by the doctors of that time, and many believed they were better for her treatment. Some of that improvement may be due to bed rest at her country sanitarium with lots of exercise, fresh air and clean water, or convictions that her spiritual powers included miracle cures. But if their health actually improved, it certainly wasn't due to her remedies.

By the time began she treating patients in the 1870s, her school of allopathic medicine was mostly considered backward and downright dangerous, not far from the distain held for the Middle Ages view that bloodletting was a cure for what-ails-you. People became ill, she believed, because some of their blood circulation had stopped (!) or there was inflammation deep within the body. The cure-all was to create a running sore over the affected area and keep it oozing for 2-4 weeks "according as your strength and nerves will allow." It was also good to do this when you were healthy, just in case, you know.

This technique was called "blistering," and Mrs. Preston's main therapeutic tool was her homemade iodine-based liniment. The patient was instructed to rub this stuff on a spot twice a day until blisters form and rupture, then cover it with a "pad" (an oil silk bandage that the Prestons also sold). "The Liniment penetrates the skin and draws the impurities of the body to the surface in the form of a running sore," the pamphlet explained. "By applying the Liniment on the parts affected, you draw the disease from the inside to the surface. And when you have made sores enough to cleanse and purify the system, you will feel the benefit derived from the treatment...in chronic cases where the disease is located, it takes many sores before you get much relief."

Preston's catalog included other items, including cough medicine, "vagina balls," "gin and garlic," "fasting paste," and some sort of lotion available by the gallon. But the remedies usually centered on that liniment; she even recommended that it be mixed with "sweet oil" (olive oil) and swallowed to cure stomach aches. Rub it all over the body once or twice a week as a preventative (which must have given the Prestonites a unique coppery complexion). The Price List also recognized it wasn't very comfortable having a seeping wound for weeks: "While using the Liniment, if you feel the need of a tonic, take the Wine Cordial, or Blood Medicine, according to the directions on the bottles." The Prestons would sell you a jug of their fortified wine at $3.50 per gallon. Honest, reverend, I'm a faithful teetotaler but this is medicine.

The liniment treatment was no harmless placebo, despite Mrs. Preston's promise that "You can make sores on your arms, legs, feet, or anywhere on the body, and they won't hurt you." It was a strong formula that could leave scars; Nathan Bowers, the son of Preston colonists, wrote in 1966 "My body, more than sixty years later, still carries the marks where blisters caused by her liniment went so deep as to leave permanent scar tissue." Mrs. Preston also promised, "While using the Liniment, the privates and eyes are liable to become sore. Poultice them with scraped potato, or onion poultice, and then wash them with hot water. It is only the disease coming out, and need cause no alarm." Nathan's father followed directions and went blind - the green onion poultice drew the lens from his right eye.

Yet despite the scarred child and partially blinded father, the Bowers family did not leave Preston. The community and the place were dear to them, as was hearing Madam Preston's sermons. Some of her followers would have been happier if she dropped the pose of Physician and/or Mystic Seer to simply become Madam Reverend Mayor, and Mrs. Preston likewise knew she was undermining her religious message and endangering the colony's future by being branded as a fake twice over. She wrote in frustration about her critics in 1902:

If everybody would look at what we are trying to do, and how we are trying to live, and what our object in life is, they would not want to ridicule or make fun of us. They would say, "I would like to know how that is. I would like to feel that on me."

So why didn't she do everyone a favor and dial down the crazy talk, particularly the bit about seeing the words of God written in light? She didn't really believe that, did she?

Emily Preston was born in upstate New York in 1819. This was at the peak of the Second Great Awakening, a period in American history marked by intense religion passion, much of it spurred by the belief that Christ was about to return. New evangelical cults formed overnight; even common folk were primed to debate merits of the latest -ism and weigh the meaning of new epiphanies and visions. And nowhere in the country was this movement more supercharged than the "burned-over district" of Western New York, which spawned Mormonism, Millerism (an apocalyptic cult that led to the Seventh-day Adventist Church), Spiritualism (as in seance communication with the dead) and others. Growing up in a world where the supernatural happenings were commonplace, it seems less odd that she believed Jehovah was texting her.

(RIGHT: "The covered bridge spanned the Russian River at Preston from 1872-1931. Preston's commercial district was located west of the river, next to the Northwestern Pacific railroad tracks. The Preston residences, school and church were located across the bridge on the east side of the river." Description and photo courtesy Sonoma County Library)

Mrs. Preston was confident that her "Free Pilgrims Covenant Church" would survive her death, and left $125,000 to sustain it. Alas, when she died in 1909 her will was undated and unwitnessed; relatives easily had it thrown out. The property went for auction and sold for $19,000, the buyer being Emily's grand-niece who kept everything as it was, aside from later selling off some land around the edges.

The colony of Preston endured. There were still weekly meetings at the church to sing and pray. There were still jobs at the bottling works. But over the years people drifted away. People died. The train station closed. The post office closed. The bottle works closed. Meetings at the church ended in 1935. Three years later, a reporter from the Press Democrat visited Preston and described the old mansion:

We pushed open the gate and walked through the ruined garden. The house is white and colonial-looking, with a porch clear around it, and dark green trimmings. It looks as if it died long ago everywhere leaves and debris and loneliness. Beyond it tumble-down outbuildings that must have been servants’ quarters. Not a soul, not a sound. We were startled to find three bright silk cushions piled on the step, as if just set there - we went closer and saw they were oriental pottery work. We walked up to the front door and knocked. No answer. We peered through a hole in the shutter and saw a stuffy Victorian parlor, completely furnished, with a paisley shawl on the table and an old-fashioned phonograph with a brass loudspeaker. We knocked and called, but still no answer...now, all quiet, all fallen away. Nothing left but the ghostly, shuttered house, the century plants, the wind in the eucalyptus.

In 1943 a couple bought the property to open a camp and summer school for boys. They unlocked the doors and found her clothes still in the closets, books on the shelf, pill roller on the table. Also gathering dust were 85 boxes of letters addressed to Mrs. E. Preston, Preston, Sonoma Co., California. Madam just stepped out for a spell, and surely would be back soon.


SOURCES AND NOTES: Almost everything in this article specific to Mrs. Preston is drawn from Holly Hoods' extraordinary thesis, "Preston: History of a Late-Nineteenth Century Religious Community in Sonoma County, California," which is available at SSU, at the Healdsburg, Cloverdale and central county libraries and at the Healdsburg Museum. It contains much interesting material not covered here, such as how Mrs. Preston answered critics who pointed out that she was functionally illiterate, despite spending decades reading the words of God writ large before her eyes. An appendix includes a reproduction of the 1903 edition of "Price List of Medicines and How to Use Them."

Hoods' research is also summarized at the web site for the Preston Historical Research and Restoration Fund, which is welcoming donations to restore the church and other buildings not destroyed in the 1988 fire. There is a 2005 Press Democrat article about the restoration project.

Most information about the Preston Colony comes from "Recollections of 19th- and 20th-Century Communal Life at Preston Ranch," a project edited by W.M. Sefton. Particularly valuable are transcriptions from local Healdsburg and Cloverdale newspapers. The recollections include descriptions of what happened to Preston after Madam died, including the formation of an artist's colony in 1969. Warning: Details concerning desecrations of the cemetery are not for the squeamish.

Hoods commented in 2000 that therapeutic blistering "has fallen out of favor in the United States within the last 100 years," citing an entry in the 1903 edition of Chambers's Encyclopedia. This was the same printing plate as first used in the 1888 edition (and which continued to be reprinted at least through 1912), so it reveals nothing about 20th century opinions on blistering. Evidence instead shows that the medical community had largely rejected the method even before Mrs. Preston began her medical practice. In an 1869 rebuttal to allopathy, "blood-letting, blistering, cauterizing, physicking, poisoning, freezing, and starving" were denounced as quackery.

Iodine was used medically in the late 19th century as a counter-irritant (1870 reference) and in liniment. A lengthy review of iodine uses in an 1876 handbook of therapeutics specifically warns against iodine solutions strong enough to cause scarring. No references, even Chambers, could be found that describe Preston's method of using liniment to keep an open sore running for weeks.




MADAM PRESTON IS DEAD AT COLONY SHE FOUNDED
Sudden Passing of Famous Woman Yesterday

Dr. Emily Preston, familiarly known as the founder of the Preston Colony near Cloverdale, is dead.

This noted woman was called from life very suddenly yesterday morning shortly after eight o'clock. Death found her as she was gazing out from the little lattice window of the kitchen of her stately residence, upon the delightful landscape dotted here and there by its beautiful homes and its trees and flowers. At the time she was going about her simple household duties. A sudden attack of heart failure and she was gone.

Four-score years was her life span and when the silver cord was snapped the life went out without a murmur and without a struggle. She was prepared for the rest that came to her. Hers had been a busy life, one devoted to the work of making those about her happy and well.

While no arrangements have been made for the funeral she will be laid to rest in the picturesque cemetery at Preston near by the little church in which on every Sunday morning, rain or shine, winter or summer, she was wont to meet and preach to her followers. She will rest beside the loved ones who have gone before.

Madam Preston ministered to the ailments of the body and of the soul. She taught that a pure mind and pure living are essential to the cure of bodily ailments and the administration of her remedies is said to have produced in many people wonderful cures. While not parading as a healer in the way in which most people accept the term, it was acknowledged by her followers that she was possessed of spiritual gifts of healing. Some ranked her as prophetess, and the use of her herb medicines for bodily ills was accompanied by faith. Her religion found many followers. They came from many sections of the state, and from other states, and in addition she had a large correspondence. There are thousands of people in the cities of this country and throughout the state who knew Madam Preston, either personally or by reputation. She was said to be a woman of some eccentricities, but be that as it may she was a good woman with one of the kindest of hearts. Those who knew her well testify to this.

Madam Preston had lived at the Preston health resort for many years. She was a native of New York state. The little, plain old lady was often seen about the Colony grounds and in Cloverdale, where she had many old friends. She took an active interest in the advance of the country about her and was the inspiration for many years of the fine Preston Colony exhibits at the Coverdale Citrus Fairs. On a number of occasions the writer met her and chatted with her in the pavilion during the arrangement of the Colony exhibit.

From friends at Cloverdale yesterday it was learned that she had not been feeling well and had complained of pains in the region of her heart. As if realizing that the shadows were soon to lengthen over the landscape of her life, she predicted that she would pass away in the manner in which she did. Coroner Frank Blackburn went up to Preston and held an inquest over the remains and the verdict was in accordance with facts related.

- Press Democrat, January 23, 1909



MAD. PRESTON PASSES AWAY
Died Suddenly on Friday at Colony She Founded

Dr. Emily Preston, founder of the Preston colony above Cloverdale, and familiarly known to thousands of people as Madam Preston, died there quite suddenly on Friday. She was stricken with heart failure and death came to her in the kitchen of her residence as she was going about her usual household duties. For some days the deceased had not been feeling well, and complained of pains about the heart. This was the only suggestion of illness which she suffered, and she had not been confined to her apartments.

Coroner Frank L. Blackburn went up to Preston Friday evening and held an inquest. A verdict of death from heart failure was returned. It is stated that Madam Preston had predicted to her friends that her death would occur just as it did, and she seemed to realize that the end was approaching for her.

The deceased woman led a splendid life, and while ministering to the physical ailments of the people, she never neglected their spiritual welfare for an instant. She conducted services regularly each Sabbath day, preaching the gospel to her followers in the pretty little church edifice at Preston, where many were wont to gather and listen to her exposition of the Scriptures. Her religious cult drew many persons to Preston, and the devoted followers of the woman claimed almost supernatural powers for her in the curing of human ailments. Her medicines were compounded by herself, and were principally made from herbs, and the good woman is credited with many splendid cures.

All over the State, and even beyond the confines of the State, she was known as a healer. While many hundreds have visited her place above Cloverdale, many thousands have heard of the remarkable woman, and have corresponded with her.

The deceased was eighty years of age, and a native of New York. She had resided at Preston, which she founded as a colony, for many years past. She was actively interested in everything pertaining to the welfare of the vicinity of her home, and each year she and the other ladies of Preston made an exhibit at the Cloverdale Citrus Fair. She took more than a passive interest in this annual festival, and always attended to view the exhibits. There are many who will mourn her demise.

- Santa Rosa Republican, January 23, 1909

Sonoma County violence against Asian-Americans was at its worst in years, but the newspapers were unsympathetic, even indifferent to getting the basic facts correct.

In Santa Rosa, anti-Chinese racism had simmered for more than a generation; when the town cleaned up its red light district the year before there was a simultaneous call to force out the Chinese, an idea even endorsed by the District Attorney. With such an attitude, justice was sure to be denied the Chinese when attacks occurred. Santa Rosa produce seller Wong Gum was beaten "until he was almost unrecognizable" in 1909 because he dared to ask moocher John Belesto for the return of one of the many tools he had borrowed. Belesto was fined ten dollars and served no jail time.

Japanese-Americans had their own worries. Fear-mongering had been building since the previous year when a nationwide scare about Japanese spies reached Sonoma County, with alarm over a pair of "well dressed and intelligent looking" Japanese men visiting Bodega Bay, and rumors that Japanese spies were trying to learn military secrets by seeking laundry jobs during a war games exercise near Atascadero. The Santa Rosa newspapers, which had long treated the Japanese community with respect, now used the racist term "little brown men" in almost every story that mentioned local Japanese.

The year began with headlines about a series of proposed anti-Japanese bills and resolutions were introduced in both the California state senate and assembly, most infamously the "Anti-Japanese School Bill," which would force Japanese children to attend separate schools. After it passed in the Assembly, lame duck President Teddy Roosevelt took the unusual step of lobbying the governor to veto it or immediately challenge it in court if it passed. State legislators took this as meddling and were incensed, and the author of the bill took to the floor of the Assembly to make a blatantly racist pitch for his proposal:

"I am responsible to the mothers and fathers of Sacramento County who have their little daughters sitting side by side in the school rooms with matured Japs, with their base minds, their lascivious thoughts, multiplied by their race and strengthened by their mode of life...I have seen Japanese 25 years old sitting in the seats next to the pure maids of California. I shuddered then and I shudder now, the same as any other parent will shudder to think of such a condition."

The Anti-Japanese School Bill failed (although attempts to revive it were made later in the session), but the Press Democrat gave the story prominent front page coverage, even quoting a sympathetic state senator that "antipathy of the Californians to the Japanese is reasonable, and that they are entirely right to legislate against them if they so desire."

Such political rhetoric likely encouraged racism, as did the drumbeat about the "yellow peril" in Hearst's San Francisco Examiner. But for whatever reason, attacks upon local people of Chinese and Japanese origin were both more frequent and more violent in 1909. The worst incident happened in Sebastopol during Chinese New Year. After starting a free-for-all with a group of Japanese men, three toughs next attacked Gee Yook in the Chinatown neighborhood, breaking off the tip of a knife in the man's head. Also in Sebastopol's Chinatown a few months later, four drunks trashed a "noodle house," throwing bottles at owner Gee Chung.

These incidents, along with an attack the previous year, should be considered together. One of the attackers in the stabbing was Irving Masse, and the Press Democrat reported that a man involved in the later noodle house fracas was also named Masse. Another restaurant rioter was identified as Joe Poggi. Readers of this journal may recall that a year earlier, Johnny Poggie and a friend smashed the same shop owner in the head with a brick, breaking his jaw.

Now, the odds are pretty high that "Johnny Poggie" and "Joe Poggi" were the same person, just as it's very likely that the same guy named Masse was involved in both attacks of 1909. Today a District Attorney would probably spot that Poggi and Masse were committing serial racial hate crimes and prosecute them aggressively to get them off the streets for a few years. But this was Sonoma County a hundred-plus years ago and the victims were Chinese, which together meant that the crimes weren't taken that seriously. Masse was punished with 50 days for his role in the knife assault and 90 days for his acts at the noodle house. Poggi(e) apparently received no jail time at all; he was not charged in the brutal 1908 bashing of Gee Chung - although the judge suspected he was lying under oath - and two 1909 Sebastopol trials for his role in the restaurant melee ended in hung juries (the case was moved to Santa Rosa where the jury appeared headed for another stalemate).

In the local press, assaults like these were considered routine and often treated as humor items. Per the knife attack, Gee Yook was not fatally injured, according to the Santa Rosa Republican, because "the skull of the Celestial was more than ordinarily thick." Like the Republican, the Press Democrat called the gang of attackers "half-breeds," and belabored a joke that "the Indians are going to take a hand in Japanese and Chinese exclusion." Aside from flinging racist insults, the worst was that neither paper could be bothered to get the story right. Both reported at first that the victim was attacked on the street. But when the matter came before a judge, the setting had changed to Gee Yook's restaurant, where he was stabbed while "Masse was doing his best to disfigure the Chinaman's face with his fists." (The man who drove his knife deep into Yook's scalp was sentenced to a mere four months in county jail.)

The Republican paper also didn't think much ado when teenagers assaulted a man named Hop Lee near Guerneville. The boys didn't want to pay for their laundry and Lee refused to turn it over without cash. They took it from him anyway and used the string tying the package to fashion a sort of noose which they knotted over his queue. Hop Lee was left hanging by his hair from a railroad bridge, where he was found sometime later by a horrified passerby. Instead of voicing outrage over the incident (which apparently wasn't even investigated by the sheriff), the newspaper used it as an opportunity to include some "funny" pidgin: "I washee all you clo's flee," he supposedly promised his rescuer.

A final item transcribed below concerns a dust-up between two Japanese and Chinese men that wound up in court, and is notable for being one of the few items that (apparently) involves Tom Wing Wong, the "mayor of Chinatown" in Santa Rosa and father of Song Wong Bourbeau, whose memories of that era were recorded by Gaye LeBaron.




ROUSING SPEECHES URGE EXCLUSION OF ASIATICS
Wednesdays Session of State Building Trades Council
Exclusion League's Speakers Arouse Much Enthusiasm--Want Delegates to Indorse the Anti-Race Track Legislation--More Resolutions Adopted

...A hearty greeting was given the fraternal delegates George B. Benham, Charles W. Steckmest and A. R. Yoell, the representatives of the Asiatic Exclusion League. They were not there merely as visitors and in a very few minutes they were called upon for speeches and as each one of them has a natural facility for talking, particularly when it comes to exclusion matters, they were heard with much interest.

Yoell is secretary-treasurer of the Asiatic Exclusion League. He called attention to the rapid increase of Japanese, Chinese and Koreans in the territories of United States. According to his figures there are 72,000 Japanese in the Hawaiian Islands out of a population of 170,000. He also mentioned the births for the fiscal year ending June 30, 1907. The total births in Hawaii were 4,593, and the number of Japanese babies born was 2,445, or over 50 per cent of the total number of children born in the Hawaiian Islands.

In California for the year 1908, Yoell said, there were according to the reports 222 Japanese children were born, 179 Negro children, 155 Chinese and 23 of Indian parentage. This indicates that the increase of Japanese by birth on the soil California is next to that of the white race.

Benham made an exhaustive address. He spoke of the dangers confronting the county by Asiatic immigration and claimed that the press and the pulpit were too indifferent and apathetic on this question...

- Press Democrat, January 14, 1909


HAS A PIECE OF STEEL IN HEAD
Aged Chinaman Injured by Half Breed Indians

A Chinese resident of Sebastopol is going about that place with a piece of knife blade an inch in length in his skull. Were it not for the fact that the skull of the Celestial was more than ordinarily thick, his remains might now be occupying a slab in the morgue. The Chinese was stabbed by one of three drunken half breeds and despite the piece of steel sticking in his head, declined to go for medical attendance until Friday, asserting that he was "too busy" attending to the joss during the New Year's festivities.

The onslaught on the Celestial was made without provocation or warning. The three Indians had attacked three Japanese in Sebastopol, and in a free for all fight had routed the men from the Mikado's realm. Emboldened by their success in this fight they wandered to Chinatown and made an assault on the Celestial, whom they found standing at the outside door of the joss house. One of the aborigines wielded a knife on the cranial adornment of the Chinaman and broke the blade, a portion of the steel remaining in the man's skull.

The injured man has identified two of the half breeds taken before him as his assailants, and they will be held for the crime. Another Indian was arrested here by Constable Orr of Cloverdale on suspicion of having been implicated in the assault. His name is Smith, and he was turned over to City Marshal Fred Mathews of Sebastopol.

- Santa Rosa Republican, January 28, 1909



CHOPS COMPANION WITH A BIG AXE
Three Half Breeds Put to Flight Three Japs and Then Make Attack Upon an Aged Chinaman

Are the California Indians arraying themselves of the side of Japanese exclusion? Three half-breeds went over to Sebastopol on Tuesday night and encountering three Japanese a free-for-all started, in which the Indians are said to have come off with the honors, having put the little brown men to flight.

Doubtless encouraged by the success of their onslaught on the Japs, the Indians later wandered into the little Chinatown at Sebastopol, and finding an aged Celestial in front of the joss house, set upon him and one of them stabbed him in the head and broke off a part of the knife blade in his skull.

On Wednesday the Chinaman was still on duty at the joss house and was apparently not bothering about having the piece of steel in his head. He siad he would have the doctor attend to that on Thursday.

Two half-breeds were taken before the Mongolian for inspection and he identified one of them as the knife wielder. District Attorney Clarence Lea went over to Sebastopol to conduct an investigation on Wednesday morning. Wednesday afternoon Constable Orr arrested an Indian named Smith at the  Court House here on suspicion of being concerned in the trouble, and City Marshal Fred Matthews of Sebastopol took him in charge.

"Looks like the Indians are going to take a hand in Japanese and Chinese exclusion," remarked some one among the spectators at the Court House. "The Indians were here before the Japs and before the whites, too, for the matter of that."

- Press Democrat, January 28, 1909



SENTENCED FOR AN ASSAULT
Broke Knife in Chinese Skull at Sebastopol

Carolina Smith was sentenced to serve one hundred and twenty days in the county jail, and Irving Masse received fifty days' sentence from Justice Harry B. Morris at Sebastopol on Friday.

These are the men who filled up on booze Wednesday and attempted to wreck the noodle joint of G. Yook. The fight ended by Smith sticking a knife into Yook's skull, and breaking the point off in the bone. Masse was doing his best to disfigure the Chinaman's face with his fists.

The men were brought to the county jail here Friday afternoon by City Marshal Fred Mathews.


- Santa Rosa Republican, January 29, 1909


MANY JAPS ARE ROBBED
Desperate Man Holds up a Lodging House

A desperate man, who wanted coin badly, robbed a number of Japanese in Brown's Chinatown in Sebastopol early Saturday morning.

The robber secured more than a hundred dollars and four watches of the little brown men and made his escape. He left absolutely no clew of his identity. The man had his features concealed behind a mask of cloth and the Japs can give no description of the culprit.

The place is conducted by a Japanese named Ezery and the robbery occurred at three o'clock Saturday morning. City Marshal Fred Matthews was notified at once and was on the scene is less than half an hour after the robbery. He was unable to get a clew to the robber.

If the Japs had had a revolver or weapon of any kind at the time they were compelled to hold up their hands they could have killed the man who took their coin. It was a desperate chance and the robber played his hand in a careless manner. He searched the pockets of his victims.

- Santa Rosa Republican, February 27, 1909


A HEAVY SENTENCE FOR ANNOYING CHINAMAN

In Justice Morris' court in Sebastopol this week two youths name Burns and Masse were sentenced to serve sixty and ninety days imprisonment, respectively, in the county jail for throwing bottles and other missiles at on G. Chung's head. Another man arrested pleaded not guilty, and will be given a trial on Saturday.

- Press Democrat, May 13, 1909


CHINESE-INDIAN CASE IS ON
Noodles Not on Free List Precipitates Litigation

The hearing of Joe Poggi, an Indian, or of Indian blood, who was charged with disturbing the peace of the Sebastopol Chinatown, and who was tried twice on that count in the Justice Court of that place, the jury disagreeing on each occasion, came up in Judge Atchinson's court Thursday morning, the case having been transferred. The complaining witness was Gee Chung, a Chinese, who alleged that Poggi was one of a party of four who created a disturbance in a noodle house maintained by the former.

A jury was empaneled, those chosen being... The principal question asked the prospective jurymen and upon which their eligibility to act in the case seemed to largely depend, was whether the fact of the defendant being of Indian blood and the complaining witness a Chinaman would influence them unduly in the bringing in of a verdict. None examined gave any such manifestations of race prejudice.

Assistant District Attorney George W. Hoyle appeared against Poggi and L. C. Scott of Sebastopol on his behalf.

Gee Chung was put on the stand and stated that Poggi and three others came in his noodle establishment at a late hour in a state of intoxication and besought him to treat them to noodles, which he decided to do. And when they offered to let him share in the consumption of several bottles and a demijohn of beer, he persisted in his refusal. It was then the scenes of tumult alleged by him to have taken place commenced. He stated that the glass receptacles of the liquor were hurled violently, striking the partition shivering it into pieces. He ran out and blew the whistle calling the night watch. The latter, Fisher Ames, testified to finding the floor covered with shattered bottles and overturned benches. Companions of Poggi admitted having engaged in a rough house, but denied that Poggi had participated in the exercises. The case was argued at some length by  counsel on both sides and the case was submitted to the jury. The hour being late, the court dismissed the jurymen for dinner, to reassemble and deliberate on a verdict later in the day.

- Santa Rosa Republican, July 29, 1909


CHINAMAN IS HUNG BY QUEUE
Treatment of Celestial Who Tried to Collect Bill

Because he refused to return articles of laundered apparel unless payment was made on delivery, several Oakland high school boys, who are camping in the vicinity of Guerneville, are believed to have been responsible for the treatment accorded Hop Lee, who was discovered Monday morning hanging by his queue to a tie on one of the railroad trestles.

Brunner, who had arisen to go fishing, while crossing a trestle between this place and Guernewood Park, was horrified to see the body of the Chinaman swinging in mid air beneath his feet.

After much effort he managed to pull the Chinese up through the opening between the ties. According to the laundryman's story he incurred the disfavor of the fellows by refusing to deliver laundry without pay.

The Chinese left his shack Monday morning to deliver laundry and on his return was met by the same crowd of lads. The twine, which Lee had used to secure his bundle, was knotted to the Chinaman's queue and he was left to dangle above the ground.

Aside from a strained scalp, Hop Lee seems none the worse for his experience. "I washee all you clo's flee," he is said to have told Brunner.

- Santa Rosa Republican, July 18, 1909


BAD MAN BROUGHT SAFELY INTO COURT

John Belesto battered up Wong Gum, the well known Chinese vegetable man, the other day, until he was almost unrecognizable, and Monday morning a warrant was issued for his arrest, which was served by Constable Boswell. The trouble was occasioned, states Wong, by Belesto having a habit of borrowing tools from the Chinaman and not having the habit of returning them. When Wong went Friday to get a plow that the other had borrowed, he was met with a single tree in the hands of Belesto, who proceeded to beat the owner of the implement in the manner stated above.

Belesto was brought in by Constable Boswell without trouble and fined ten dollars by Justice Atchinson. Some trouble was anticipated with him, as he had at one time, when in trouble before, threatened to shoot both Constable Boswell and Gilliam.

- Santa Rosa Republican, July 19, 1909


INFORM ON EACH OTHER
Japanese and Chinese Did Respective Tattling

Things are happening in the Mongolian district of Santa Rosa that may yet perhaps develop into international complications between the courts and peoples of Japan and China. And it all grew out of the gambling roundup by the police the other night.

A Japanese and a Chinaman, W. K. Hyama and Wong Wing respectively, appeared in the justice court Tuesday afternoon and swore out a complaint against each other for battery. Wong stated that Hyama owed him $5 and that there remained no way of collecting it other than having recourse to fisticuffs or litigation, which he didn't want to resort to. Then Hyama hit him, he said.

Hyama asserted that Wong insisted that he, Hyama, reimburse Wong for the $5 fine imposed upon him for gambling on the ground that Hyama had informed the police of the game that the Chinaman had in progress Sunday night. He confessed to hitting the yellow brother, but alleged that the other had struck him first. He also admitted having "tipped" the officers in regard to the Chinese gambling deal. It appears that he had supplied the information in question because he was one of the inmates of the Japanese gambling house, raided the same night by the police, and he and his fellow residents of that place believed that the Celestial had told on them, the Japanese.

Hyama was arraigned before Justice Atchinson on the charge of battery and pleaded not guilty. He gave bond to appear for trial later. He didn't seem to have much faith in our American courts, for he insisted on Justice Atchinson giving him a receipt for his ten dollars bail.

- Santa Rosa Republican, September 28, 1909


JAPS AND CHINKS AT OUTS IN COURT
Sequel to the Arrest For Gambling on Sunday Night Now to be Aired in Courtroom

As the result of the arrest of a number of Japanese Sunday night for gambling by the police, W. K. Hymana [sic] was arrested yesterday on complaint of Wong Wing, charged with battery, while Wong Wing was arrested on complaint of W. K. Hyana on a similar charge. Both Jap and Chinese were released by Justice Atchinson on $10 cash bail and the trial will be held Thursday.

The men got into a fight over the forfeited bail of the Japanese. Wong Wing claims that Hyama put up his watch for the loan of bail money, and later demanded the watch back without paying the loan, and when refused Hyama attacked him. Hyama on the other hand, claims Wong Wing introduced him to the game and after his arrest when he went to him demanding that he pay the fine, Wong attacked him and he simply defended himself.

- Press Democrat, September 29, 1909

It was racism so barbarous that it's difficult to believe: An adopted child was taken from her mother and loving family because authorities deemed the child didn't belong with a "lesser race."

Such was the tragic story of Mah Lo, a nine year-old girl who was living in San Francisco's Chinatown with her mother in 1909. Her Chinese parents had the paperwork to show they had legally adopted the child in 1904, but that didn't matter once it was discovered that Mah Lo was really partly Italian (or maybe Syrian) and not Chinese at all. Probably.

(This is the first of two essays on 1909 media racism.)

The news surfaced during the sleepy dog days of midsummer when desperate editors seek any scrap of news, and this story had a sensational angle sure to sell plenty of papers. The San Francisco Call's headline, "WHITE CHILD IN AN OPIUM DEN" began:

"Mah Ho, 9 years old, with great brown eyes round as the walnut rather than like the almond, and distinctly European features, was taken yesterday morning from a basement opium and gambling den at 54 Spofford alley, Chinatown, and is now in the juvenile detention home...the fact that she was facing the shame and degradation of oriental woman slavery aroused the police and mission authorities."

Readers of The Call were also told the girl was "kept in close confinement in her prison basement, her only playmate being a puppy, and scarcely it seems, did she ever see the sunlight." The Call's version, however, was the very model of restraint compared to what appeared in the San Francisco Daily News: Their version claimed the child was "Secluded for years in a basement where no sunlight can enter, when removed to the street the child covered her eyes with her hands and cried out in pain." Leaving no lurid description unmilked, her dog was also a "half-starved" mongrel and a "flickering gas light threw fantastic shadows on the blackened walls" as her rescuers descended into the "ill-smelling basement." As the San Francisco outlet for the UP newswire, the Daily News' version went out to newspapers nationwide, some using an obviously retouched photograph supposedly showing Mah Ho with eyes large enough and round enough to outbulge some of the goggle-eyed waifs painted by Keane in the 1960s.

In following days reporters continued trying to write about a child abuse/crime story (the girl was described as living in a "hop joint," a "Chinese brothel" or "discovered during a raid on an opium den"), but the details couldn't be twisted to fit the usual yellow journalism narratives. For starters, Mah Ho and her adopted mother, Tun See, deeply loved each other; the headline in the next day's Call was "Little White Girl Longs to Return to Her Chinese 'Mother.'" Mah Ho could speak only Chinese and was completely accepted as a family member; through an interpreter she told authorities she had "a Chinese papa and mama" and "before the fire [1906 earthquake] we lived in a basement with my papa and mamma and uncles and aunts and cousins." Even the captivity angle fizzled out; the woman who took Mah Ho from her family admitted she knew about Mah Ho because "she had seen the child in the street."

From court testimony reported in the papers and an article that appeared only in the Santa Rosa Republican, we can puzzle out some of Mah Ho's backstory. She was apparently born in Geyserville in 1900 and named Alice. The correspondent to the Republican wrote that the mother's name was Mabel Bell, and the census that year indeed shows a 16 year-old with that name living in the Russian River area. When her birth mother married a man named William Minto three years later, the toddler was then called Alice Minto. The marriage failed quickly and the mother disappeared. Little Alice was put up for adoption, and later told the court that she had no memories of her birth mother or pre-Chinese life.

Meanwhile, her soon-to-adopt father (called both Mah Juy Lin and Mah Lin Kee in the newspapers) began seeking a child to adopt. His wife Tun See was apparently unable to bear children; he later told the court that she had previously lost two children and was "delicate."

The adoption process was far more lax than today - see an earlier writeup about the Salvation Army giving away a baby as an attraction for their religious service in Santa Rosa. Thus in early 1904 when two anonymous women showed up at the Children's Home Finding Society in Berkeley with little Alice in tow, superintendent Rev. Henry Brayton knew he could place her in a good Chinese home.

Brayton later told the Call that he absolutely believed she was Chinese "on account of her dark skin and oriental features. In this belief I placed her with a Chinese family in San Francisco. I would not think of placing a white girl among Chinese." Others weren't so sure they could ethnically pigeonhole the girl. Even the woman who took custody of her wasn't sure she was a "white child," telling the Call, "I have seen many half whites, but never one that looked as she does. I would say that the child is an Italian Jew." The Salvation Army captain who delivered her to Tun See thought she was Middle Eastern, probably Syrian.

The girl's unusual looks led her adoptive parents to fear that Mah Ho/Alice Minto would draw attention from intrusive whites, as happened in an incident described by father Mah Juy Lin. A worker on Central Valley farms, he told the Call they were apparently detained and questioned about the girl, which led them to keep the child away from prying eyes as much as possible: "Once the child and my wife went to the country to see me and the child was arrested, and after that I never sent the child out very much." In one of the newspaper's more sympathetic followups, the Call reported "Tun See always said that if they saw her they would carry her away."

And, of course, that's what happened on July 28, 1909 in San Francisco's Chinatown. A police officer, accompanied by an interpreter and Donaldina (!) Cameron of the Presbyterian Mission House along with a reporter or three, seized 9 year-old Mah Ho and took her away. Tun See showed them the adoption papers to no avail; she was told to bring the documents to the court hearing the following week.

One wonders what Miss Cameron thought when she and the other "rescuers" pushed through the door. The Mission had received letters (anonymously written, of course) claiming that Mah Ho was being "whipped, triced up by the thumbs and made to work at late hours of the night" - in short, it was expected to be the situation that Cameron often encountered. Now 40, Donaldina had dedicated her life to rescuing Chinese girls and young women from prostitution and slavery, personally leading the sometimes-dangerous raids. (Good profile here.) But instead of finding a victim needing to be saved, there was a frightened little girl with a puppy hiding behind her mother's skirt.

Mah Juy Lin, then working on a potato farm near Stockton, returned home immediately and contacted the Six Companies (the umbrella Chinese benevolent society) for legal aid. Before the first court hearing, it was mentioned that he would be petitioning for guardianship of his adopted daughter.

But what of their adoption papers? Weren't they legal?

Cameron told the Call that she saw a document from the Children's Home Finding Society. "It purported that the society had investigated and found to the satisfaction of the officers that a certain Lin Juy was a fit person to have the custody of the child." A Salvation Army worker confirmed "Brayton had investigated the Mah home and himself decided it to be a proper place for the child," according to the Daily News.

Yet there was a problem with the document, Cameron said: "The name Lin Juy was written over another name, which had been erased, but which was, I believe, a Chinese name." What this meant is anyone's guess. Not Cameron, nor anyone else, alleged fraud - that in 1904 the girl was really entrusted to someone else. After all, Rev. Brayton had documented his home visit, and the Salvation Army captain delivered the child to Tun See. More likely the clerk screwed up the pinyin for Mah Juy Lin's name and corrected it. What impact this had on the outcome of the case is unknown.

Before the next court date, another party announced they wanted guardianship. The new claimant was a Mrs. Ritchie of Healdsburg, who said she was the long-lost Mrs. Minto. Only now she said she wasn't the mother of little Alice, but actually her first foster mother; she had adopted the child from the Home Finding Society, then forced to return her when the Mintos divorced. She was planning a third marriage to Louis Witschey of San Francisco, whose mother appeared in court on behalf of her future daughter-in-law. "Only God knows how  much I love the child" she sobbed over the girl she had never met. According to the Republican correspondent, they were all liars. Minto-Ritchie was indeed the mom, and this woman claiming to be Mrs. Witschey was actually the true maternal grandmother - and by the way, Mrs. Ritchie was a San Francisco dance hall floozy until recently. (Six gold stars if you followed half of that.)

The last hearing came exactly two weeks after Mah Ho had been taken from her parents. No Witscheys or Mintos were present. After a long conversation with Miss Cameron, Mah Juy Lin and Tun See agreed to drop their application for guardianship.

The only noteworthy events at the hearing was an outburst by one Mrs. Claudia Schad, who told the court she was a missionary among the Chinese. Schad demanded the girl be immediately be taken away from Cameron's Mission House as no white child should be associating with other Chinese children living at the Mission. Cameron told the court it would be an "unkindness to the child to place her in a white family just now," as she knew few words of English and was accustomed to only Chinese food. The judge said he would make a decision in two weeks.

The Call reporter at the hearing wrote, "The most pathetic feature of the case is the deep grief of the Chinese pair. When the child was brought to them she clung to the Chinese woman with every demonstration of affection."

The curtain fell on the tragedy at the end of August. A wire service filler item circulated: "Judge Murasky orders that little Alice Minto, who was taken away from Chinese foster-parents in Chinatown underground den, be placed permanently in care of a white family."


NOTES ON SOURCES: Articles from the Santa Rosa newspapers and other local journals are transcribed here when they are not available via the Internet. All six of the San Francisco Call articles can be read via the California Digital Newspaper Collection, and the San Francisco Daily News/United Press wire service stories can be found via the Library of Congress.



MAH HO BORN IN COUNTY
White Girl Has Lived With Chinese Family

Little Mah Ho, the Italian child who for six years was kept in a dark room in the home of her adopted father, a Chinaman in San Francisco, has been found to have been born at Geyserville in 1900. William Baker, a teamster residing on Cypress Alley, in the metropolis, has made a statement of what he knows about the child's early life, and his knowledge of the child's mother.

Baker declares that little Alice Minto is the daughter of Mrs. Mabel Minto who Tuesday secured a marriage license to wed Louis Witschey, of San Francisco and who was until 3 months ago employed as a dancer in the O. K. dance hall on Pacific street.

Since that time she has been living as Mrs. Mabel Ritchie in Healdsburg.

According to Baker's story Alice Minto was born in Geyserville in 1900, and the woman who called upon Miss Cameron of the Presbyterian Mission and represented herself to be the first foster mother of the child, is really its own mother, and the woman who wrote to Judge Van Nostrand is the real grandmother.

"Alice Minto was named for her aunt, who was a girl of thirteen years of age when the child was born," declared Baker.

"I have heard that the child was sold for $15. Mrs. Minto's maiden name was Mabel Bell and in 1903 she was married to William Minto, an employee of the Chutes, and took the child to live with its grandmother at San Jose. She later disappeared and the person who probably knows most about what became of her is Mrs. Laura Thomas, afterward of the Salvation Army. Mrs. Thomas was engaged to be married to a cousin of Alice Minto's mother and the mother asked her to dispose of the child. I do not believe the adoption story and know that at the time the child is claimed to have been adopted. Mabel and Alice Minto and their mother were destitute and in no position to care for another."

H. W. Brayton of the Home Finding Society, admits that he knew the child was placed in a Chinese family and that it was done at the request of Captain Williams. He says that until the time of the fire he kept track of the child, and believed she was in good hands, but since then he had no knowledge of her whereabouts.

- Santa Rosa Republican, August 5, 1909

The problem wasn't just that more inexperienced drivers were on the roads; there were also more drivers on the sidewalks.

Santa Rosa in 1909 was more car-centric than ever before. Streets connecting to the downtown core were the latest to be paved, and the Sonoma County Automobile Association, with James Wyatt Oates behind the wheel as president, was pushing for more and better roads. The town hosted the first California Grand Prize Race which was won by local boy Ben Noonan, driving a car from the local Houts dealership. Ads for the latest models began appearing regularly in the papers, and the Press Democrat began publishing a regular auto feature, which was really a gossip column strictly about cars and drivers.

While the main automotive issue of 1908 was enforcing the 10MPH speed limit, the challenge of the following year was avoiding reckless drivers. A head-on crash with a horse and buggy was narrowly avoided at a blind corner; not so lucky was bicyclist George Luce, who was struck by an auto making a U-turn. He was bruised and cut up, but his injuries were not as serious as first thought.

(RIGHT: This odd advertisement in the August 8, 1909 Press Democrat appeared a few weeks before a rash of reckless driving incidents) 

But the worst was the month of September, when it was apparently open season on pedestrians. One driver was arrested for using the sidewalk between Fourth and Fifth streets as his own private traffic lane, and another kept jumping the curb on Fourth street until his axle was bent. Asked why he repeatedly lost control of his car, the driver replied, "I don't know the first blamed thing about a machine."

Also: Should motorcycles be required to have headlights? Santa Rosa's District Attorney wasn't sure, although he thought they technically were "motor vehicles."



DRIVES AUTOMOBILE ON WALK AND IS ARRESTED

From the looks of the police docket Friday morning, the impression might be got that the streets of this city are falling into desuetude and that the sidewalks are bearing the brunt of the traffic. It is not merely the fact that a man had been booked by the redoubtable Samuels for cycling on the pavement. It was that an automobilist had been arrested for running his machine thereon. While plowing up the cement walk between Fourth and Fifth streets, he was arrested by Officer Lindley.

- Santa Rosa Republican, September 2, 1909


WOULD HAVE LIGHTS PLACED ON MOTOR CYCLES

Many people of this city are of the opinion that motor cycles should be compelled to carry lights when being run after dark on the streets of this city. While the vehicles make considerable noise and warn pedestrians of their approach in this manner, it is argued that the light would prove to be an additional safeguard for the people. District Attorney Lea is of the opinion, without looking into the matter, that motor cycles are within the meaning of the law which provides that "motor vehicles" shall be equipped with lights after nightfall. It is probable that the city council will take the matter up and settle the mooted point.

- Santa Rosa Republican, September 4, 1909


AUTO CAUSES FUN ON FOURTH STREET
Machine Twice Runs on Sidewalk and Two Store Fronts Have Narrow Escape from Destruction

Some diversion was caused yesterday afternoon on Fourth street when an automobile suddenly swerved from the middle of the street and dashed up on the sidewalk in an apparent endeavor to go into Bower & Mercier's cigar store. The driver, a stranger, backed off the sidewalk and got his auto on the broader path, and the next instant it was headed at full speed for the sidewalk again and the doorway of Charles Jacobs' ice cream parlor. The machine seemed bound to take in a store or two. The last run against the sidewalk bent the front axle and the machine had to be taken to a garage.

When questioned as to whether the steering gear had gone wrong, the driver shook his head and replied: "I'm the man that got stuck. I don't know the first blamed thing about a machine."

He had better learn a few things or he may have to pay for a few plate glass show windows. Fortunately no glass was broken yesterday.

- Press Democrat, September 19, 1909


DRIVE TOO FAST AROUND CORNERS
Complaint Being Lodged Against Auto Drivers--Some are Exceeding Speed Limit

Considerable complaint is being made regarding the carelessness of automobile drivers in failing to give warnings as the approach corners and to turning a corner where it is impossible to see anyone approaching from the opposite direction. In many cases also the speed limit is violated at such times, making it extremely dangerous for people, vehicles, and horses.

There was a narrow escape from a bad accident at College and Mendocino avenues about 6:30 Sunday night when an automobile driver tore up Mendocino avenue and swung onto College without slowing down or giving any warning with his horn. by his quick action as well as that of the driver of a horse and buggy both were brought to an abrupt stop just before they crashed together head on. The autoist had no tail light, another violation of the law.

- Press Democrat, October 19, 1909


AN AUTO ACCIDENT ON FOURTH STREET
George Luce Has a Very Fortunate Escape from Serious Injury Under Wheels of Automobile

What was at first feared to have been a very serious accident occurred on Fourth street at Mendocino avenue last night when Mervin Forsyth in an automobile ran down George Luce who was riding along the street on his bicycle about 8 o'clock.

According to the details learned of the accident Mr. Forsyth was coming on Mendocino avenue and started to turn down Fourth street towards the depot, but after getting partially out on Fourth street, changed his mind and swung around up the street. There was a wagon on the crossing and Mr. Luce, who was coming from the postoffice, seeing the machine turning west, swung around on the outside of the wagon, just in time to be struck by the auto. He was thrown to the ground and his wheel badly damaged, while he received numerous lacerations and bruises. At first it was feared he had suffered serious internal injuries, but he was picked up and appeared not to be seriously hurt. He was taken home and Dr. Jesse was summoned. Mr. Luce had a remarkable escape.

- Press Democrat, October 27, 1909

Readers of 1909 Santa Rosa newspapers had cause to lament: The funniest man in town finally landed a real job.

For about a decade, Tom Gregory had contributed humor columns and wry news items to both the Press Democrat and Santa Rosa Republican. The editors here recognized him for the treasure he was - a fabulist in the style of Ambrose Bierce, a story-teller like Mark Twain, a satirical political commentator like Finley Peter Dunne - and allowed him a byline, which was a sure sign of his readership popularity. (A bio and full appreciation of Gregory appeared in an earlier essay.) Alas, newspapering pays beans even for the most talented writers, so at age 56, Tom Gregory accepted a position as editor and author of North Bay county history books. Rarely did his name appear in the local papers after that.

A couple of his 1909 articles have appeared here earlier: A colorful news item about a visiting circus and a (mostly) straight-forward account of a visit by state legislators to Armstrong Grove. A pair of other offerings are transcribed below, and are Gregory classics. One is the sort of tall tale sometimes called a "quaint" in old-time newspaper lingo, and tells about a boy who secretly makes a batch of taffy in defiance of his "health faddist" parents. The lad tries to hide the evidence of his crime and soon Dostoevskian complications ensue.

The other piece is clever political satire, but parts make no sense today without background. That week Santa Rosa was in the middle of its latest skirmish of the water wars, and as discussed here before, the town had an unfair and ridiculous rate schedule that charged not just on how much water was used, but on how it was used. It cost far more to turn your hose on a vegetable garden than a flower bed; a home turned into a boarding house paid $10 a month, while a water-guzzling factory like the tannery only paid twice that. In his column, Gregory pokes fun at this hair-splitting via a (somewhat labored) analogy to Ancient Rome: "When Rome was preparing to teach her language to a conquered world she didn't say what class of building was meant. Upstairs, downstairs, hut or palace, all the same."

There's also a bit about the purchase price of a pig bought from H. M. LeBaron. Also at the time a deal with the state to buy Armstrong Grove from banker Harrison LeBaron suddenly became mired in controversy. A San Francisco newspaper published a story claiming that the old-growth woods were worth only a fraction of the price LeBaron was asking, and that led to several heated letter-to-the-editor exchanges between LeBaron and his old rival lumbermen. In one of these letters, LeBaron answered Gregory that he had sold the pig below market price because "it was a China hog and I don't like China pig-tails." Sad to say, that little racist yuk likely went far to improve LeBaron's image among the section of the populace unsympathetic to bankers.



THOUGHT IT WAS METEOR
Something for Pure Food Commission to Decide

"Well," said the traveling man, "I don't know as I've got anything in my head this morning that will do for a newspaper story. Yes, there's one, only its being true might more or less disqualify it. The story was suggested to me by an account in a 'Frisco paper telling about a comet or a meteor, or a bunch of stars falling around in Santa Rosa the other day.

"It happened to me when I was a kid in a small town near Chico. From my childhood up I had always had a great propensity for eating candy. Now both my parents were pronounced health faddists and confectionery was of all dietary things what they most abhorred. Hence, about the only candy I ever managed to have access to was what I could steal out of the barrel containing that article in the village store.

"One day when the folks were gone to attend a vegetarian district convention in a neighboring town, I conceived the desperate notion to make some taffy. Having as accessories a cook book, a hot fire, a frying pan and the necessary ingredients, I did it. If I had murdered my little brother--I didn't have any, by the way--I could not have been more careful in hiding the evidence of my act than I was in the circumstance in question. I cleaned the frying pan and wiped the mouth of the molasses jug--and in fact I had everything as it was save for the presence of the incriminating taffy. I didn't have time to eat it. Therefore I determined to hide the same. To make the process easier, I rolled the sweetness into a lump about the size of an ordinary cantaloupe. To reduce its volume I rolled and hammered and compressed the thing until for heaviness, hardness and impenetrability, a chunk of reinforced concrete were veritably ooze in comparison.

"Then I interred it in the back yard, which however, I soon saw wasn't going to do at all. For the neighbor's dog--a measly cur--promptly dug it up. A brilliant idea next struck me. There was a crevice in our chimney where a couple of bricks were lacking. Here I placed the treasure, though not without considerable risk to my neck and some damage to my trousers. And here the taffy ball remained for many hours, screened from the sight of all save that of the all seeing sun.

"Now, the chunk of candy hadn't got any softer from its brief stay in the earth, and the smile of the head of the solar system was bringing it around to a state of petrefaction [i.e. turning into stone - J.E.] pretty fast. For in summer time around Chico it's so hot that a whole barrelful of water has been known to evaporate in a single day, and the barrel itself fall to pieces after the liquid is out from exceeding heat and dryness.

"Somehow or other the taffy roll didn't nestle very securely in its repository and a sudden gust of wind coming up and shaking the chimney, the thing was dislodged, slid down the roof and hit the street. Now the street ran down hill for about a hundred yards and the taffy too, gaining momentum all the time. It finally stopped in a pile of sand, half burying itself therein.

"It happened that there was a bunch of old timers standing near the place where the projectile had spent itself. An acrimonious controversy in regard to infant damnation was abruptly terminated by the arrival of the strange object. To all of them it seemed that it had dropped out of the blue sky above them. One thought that it was some anarchist bomb or infernal machine that had been shot up in the air from a distance to fall upon and destroy the city hall, which was near by. There were no airships in those days and nobody took the object for a chunk of aeroplane machinery. Sentiment was about unanimous that it was a meteor or a piece of a comet or a falling star. They examined the ball gingerly and declared that the substance was not of this world. One old miner said that he had dabbled with every metaliferous material that the earth's bosom afforded, and he was prepared to state unqualifiedly that this was something he had never encountered. Another observed that the thing looked just like a meteor that he had seen fall in Arkansas twenty year before. An assault was made upon the mysterious business with a hammer and chisel, and even with a pickaxe, but it couldn't be so much as dented. It was finally voted to send it to the Smithsonian Institute. This was strenuously objected to by one of the party on the ground that it was his, as he had seen the same first. And he took it and has got it to this day on his parlor table beside the family Bible. He would no more dispose of it than he would the holy sepulchre if he owned the latter."


 - Santa Rosa Republican, September 16, 1909



ON THE WATER WAGON BUT IS NOT SATISFIED

"I'm afraid I'll have to load up my old wagon and move on," said the Up Town Citizen, as he came into the REPUBLICAN office to advertise the sale of a dog. "This part of the earth is getting fierce. I settled here fresh from Chillicothy, Mo., a-flying from a violent youth, as it were, 'long in the fall of '49. A friend got me to come. Said this was sort of an annex to 'Old Missoury,' where a quiet, peace-loving, highly-moral, church-going person could find an ideal life. My friend could sling slithers of poetry words those days, yes. But now, I donno. Of course, I havn't [sic] any family, and am not in the age when the wild mustard and johnny-jump-ups are bloomin' all around a fellow, but I'm not receiving bids for bunches of worry, and I've got a few more years to use up before I die and pass back over the bridge at Kansas City. Guess I'll have to wander to some other fireside, where taxes stop on the ground-floor and city parks grow without irrigation."

After a "sumptuous feast," to use a copyrighted term of the rural writer, of his mind on the real estate ads in the Los Angeles exchanges on the editorial desk, he put a new record in his talkophone. "It set me to thinking mighty hard," said he, "when the Appellate Court remarked by wireless that our moral consciences were asleep, and other things too fierce to mention. That message when it sizzled through the air must have scorched the edges of the clouds. (I hope the Chamber of Commerce won't put that in its next booklet.) I never expected to hear such a hand-down in California. It makes me once more long to hear the happy hogs grunting among the autumn acorns in the Livingston county river bottoms."

After the U. T. Cit. had gone over the legislative proceedings in the morning papers, he again turned on the current of his observations: "And now, here following the great work of the last city election voter, following the narrow escape of the hop-yards and vineyards from ruin, following the Sbarbaro recommendation of low-proof claret in place of tea, the town has gone dry. Free water for domestic use limited, haunts the water-tax consumed by day, and is the dream mare that gallops over him at night. The word domestic is the storm center of the commotion. The only authoritative decision on the matter has come from Webster, (Noah) L. L. D., who found it among the literature of the Latins in the 'domus' house. When Rome was preparing to teach her language to a conquered world she didn't say what class of building was meant. Upstairs, downstairs, hut or palace, all the same. It didn't make any difference whether the Roman citizen had an office on the Forum or inhabited a fisherman's shack down along the Tiber. Caesar's domus was his house, and whether he lived there, wrote his commentaries there or planned the subjection of empires there, his tongue -- the mother of all tongues, saith not. The law interpreters of Santa Rosa say 'domus' is a place where folks feed.

"I'm afraid the higher tribunal will again balk if called upon to scrutinize the 'special legislation' features of our water dispute. There doesn't seem to be enough constitutionality in free water for one water-tax paying family which inhabits a certain kind of domus... [missing microfilm]




"Mercy!" said he, after a long breath-catching pause, "what a scolding poor H. M. LeBaron is having handed out to him! First, he was scolded for trying to sell the people of the state of California some nice trees. He was scolded till the scolders learned that they are really nice trees and are truly worth every cent he wanted for them. Then they began to scold because they had not been told how much money the Armstrongs are to get out of the tree-sale. Then they scolded until it dawned on them that it is none of their business. Finally, they began to scold because they did not know whether LeBaron got control of the trees by cash, by note or by option. Wot!



About twenty-five years ago while living near H. M. LeBaron's ranch, Valley Ford, I bought a hog from him paying him $3.50 for the porker. It was worth $4, and for a quarter of a century I have joyed in the thought that I out-financed the Dairyman's banker four bits, and might have increased my profit by reselling the shoat instead of eating him. It would have shown practical commercial foresight on my part if I had made LeBaron tell me what he paid, if anything, for the pig. It would have shed more public light on the transaction. I would then have known whether he got it by cash, by note or by option. It may now be too late for an investigation, but I would like to known. LeBaron, how much did you pay for that hog?
 TOM GREGORY

 - Santa Rosa Republican, March 3, 1909



 THE SMOKE WAS EXPENSIVE
A Single Cigar Costs Tom Gregory Five Dollars

Tom Gregory, the well known newspaper writer and man about town, is fond of luxurious living. Yesterday he smoked a $5 cigar and says the smoke was worth it. It happened in this wise:

At the beginning of the new year Tom, like a good many of his acquaintances, turned over a number of new leaves, among which were the promises that he would refrain from taking his daily toddy (or toddies) and that he would henceforth eschew the seductive weed. With great chunks of virtue sticking out all over his intellectual countenance. Tom dropped into the REPUBLICAN office and, while rummaging through the exchanges, told Perry Allison, the foreman, that he had sworn off smoking and would forfeit a bright five dollar gold piece if he was caught breaking this resolve.

Now, January had thirty-one long, wet, dismal days, and as the month drew to a close it was noticed by Tom's many friends that he had become somewhat crusty of late, and that a few more wrinkles adorned his high forehead, and a few more crows' feet had gathered around his eyes. Still, the odor of tobacco was noticeably absent from his breath.

Wednesday the tumble came. Tom had wandered into one of his favorite haunts, a local cigar store, mechanically his hand went into his pocket, and mechanically his fingles closed over a ten cent piece lying there. Mechanically the hand placed the ten cent piece on the counter, and also mechanically the clerk placed before Tom his favorite brand of cigar. He took one, carefully removed the end and applied the match. Puff (oh, what bliss), puff, puff, puff--suddenly Tom remembered--but it was too late. There stood Perry Allison beside him with a grin on his face a mile long. Tom didn't try to explain. He just smoked. He hasn't paid that five dollars yet, but says he will gladly, as the smoke was worth it.

 - Santa Rosa Republican, February 4, 1909



 PUBLISH A HISTORY OF SONOMA COUNTY

 H. A. Preston of the Historic Record Company of Los Angeles, was in this city Monday. This publishing company is engaged in getting out the histories of the counties of the state, and Mr. Preston is in the county looking over the field in preparation to start his corps of assistants gathering data for the Sonoma county history about the first of next month. The work will be illustrated, beautifully printed and bound and will be an interesting and accurate record of imperial Sonoma from the stirring pioneer period to the present. Among those who will assist in the work will be Tom Gregory, the well known local newspaper writer, who will edit the historical portion of the volume.

 - Press Democrat, November 11, 1909

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