Pity Santa Rosa; hardly anyone wanted to move here in the early 20th Century. While some communities in the state were doubling in population every decade, our numbers were as stagnant as swampy backwater, with the city growing a pathetic average of only about a hundred people a year between 1900 and 1920. Or so sayeth the U.S. Census.
The numbers might have been technically accurate, but in an editorial about the 1910 count, Press Democrat editor Ernest Finley railed the city was being cheated because the real total had to be double the 7,817 officially tallied. Finley should have counted his lucky stars; according to the census reports, the towns of Sonoma and Cloverdale would supposedly lose more than a hundred people in the following decade, with San Rafael reportedly losing 400.
Were any of these census counts reasonably correct or no? Academic discussions of census problems concerning that era focus on undercounts of minorities, the poor living in dense big city slums, migrant workers, and so on. But looking at summaries for all California towns between 1900 and 1920, it seems that urban areas steadily marched forward while agricultural towns often curiously wobbled.
Part of the reason could be because those three census enumerations were taken in different parts of the growing season. The 1900 census was in June; the 1910 count came in April, and the 1920 census happened in January. Anyone connected to farming might understandably be elsewhere in January when the land was fallow and fruit trees dormant, which could explain the apparent anemic growth (or even lack thereof) in the North Bay between 1910-1920. As a specific example of seasonal tilt, I knew there were lots of people living in Sebastopol's Chinatown(s) at the turn of the century, yet the 1900 census reported almost no one was around - but census takers found Chinese ag workers all over West County that June, working in the orchards and hop fields. Thus at best, more than a few footnotes are demanded whenever any scholar uses any of these census reports to draw overreaching conclusions about Sonoma County development during the early 20th century. Pleaseandthankyou.
Both the Press Democrat and the Santa Rosa Republican commented Santa Rosa's census numbers were too low because the city limits were overdue for a greatly needed expansion. A letter-writer to the Republican commented Santa Rosa needed to be more inclusive of the west side and Roseland specifically should be annexed to the city:
Ten years ago the Roseland tract was field of grain and an orchard. Today it is a thickly populated district, not only composed of small farms, but many people reside there who enjoy all benefits of a city, and who come daily to the shopping district of Santa Rosa and traverse the streets, utilizing the rights of the taxpaying citizens...there are in the neighborhood of 3000 to 3500 people residing within a radius of a quarter of a mile west of the present boundary of the city of Santa Rosa. |
One wonders what our ancestor would think to learn that more than a century later, Roseland still would not be welcome in the city.
PD editor Finley also complained that the city was unfortunate in having the census taken soon after huge factory fires, which threw many out of work:
The town's largest three factories were burned but a short time before the census enumerators began their work--the Levin tannery, the shoe factory, and the woolen mill...the fact that the census was taken just after those great fires cost Santa Rosa at least 1,000 population in the census figures. |
None of that was true, however; the census was in April. The tannery/shoe factory fire happened in late May, and the woolen mill was destroyed in August. And the consequential unemployment estimates that appeared in the PD at the time were a fraction of the number he now claimed. Seeing as these events had occurred only a few months before his editorial was written in January 1911, it's hard to understand how Ernest Finley could have honestly turned the sequence of events upside down.
And although the PD editorial ended with a drum-thumping call to expand city borders ("We must have a Greater Santa Rosa!") it worked to the advantage of the town's ruling elite at the time to maintain the town's status quo, with its borders hemmed to the older and more affluent core neighborhoods. The newer subdivisions to the west and south offered modest homes for laborers, and voters from those new districts potentially could shake up municipal elections by electing men who were not players in Santa Rosa's political machine.
The history lesson takeaway is that the problems of 1910 continue to reach forward into today. Roseland remains an unincorporated island within Santa Rosa, certainly in part because of the same fear that its voters could have a sizable impact on city elections, which are still under the sway of a political bloc. Even the questionable census numbers linger as a problem, particularly in overstating the impacts of the 1906 Santa Rosa Earthquake; lower census counts create the misleading picture that the destruction and death toll were comparatively much worse here than in San Francisco (see discussion).
As a bonus, there is also transcribed below a lengthy letter from the census enumerator of Salt Point and Fort Ross, filled with humor and many interesting descriptions of his encounters.
SANTA ROSA AND THE CENSUS
Santa Rosa's neglect to make its boundary lines cover the whole city has put the town back into the same class with towns of only 7,000 or 8,000 population. The new census gives us but 7,817 inhabitants.
If Santa Rosa had done as it should and taken all the city into the city limits, the census would have given us the fourteen thousand or fifteen thousand to which we are rightfully entitled. But we failed to do it, and so for ten years every atlas and every geography and every gazetteer will hold misleading figures about Santa Rosa's population. There is no help for it now, and the fact is regrettable, for in many respects a town's importance is gauged by its census figures.
We have none but ourselves to blame--we and our suburban neighbors, who are denied the privilege of the city's free postal service by carrier twice a day, and who have the poor substitute of a rural mail service once a day that reaches some of them in the evening with the morning mail. Also they are denied the advantage of the city's fire and police protection, the city's free water system, the sewer system, express delivery, and the privileges of the municipal library. They are also denied the privilege of pointing to Santa Rosa on the census rolls with [illegible microfilm] which it certainly has but for which it gets no credit because the whole city is not incorporated.
The people of Santa Rosa must wait another ten years before the error in the census can be corrected; but the evil may be mitigated by the prompt action in extending the city lines to where they belong. In all reason, they should be coterminous with the lines of the school district. And again, in all reason, the name of the school district should be changed to Santa Rosa school district instead of Court House school district. There is a little district near town that bears the name of Santa Rosa district. At one time there was talk of putting those names right, but the fact that one of the districts had outstanding bonds called a halt in the proceedings. There certainly is a way to give Santa Rosa school district its right name to give Santa Rosa city credit for the population it actually possesses, and to make the geographical limits of the two identical.
There is another point that has counted against Santa Rosa in the census. The town's largest three factories were burned but a short time before the census enumerators began their work--the Levin tannery, the shoe factory, and the woolen mill. These disasters threw out of employment more than 400 people, most of whom were heads of families, and most of whom soon afterward left town with their families to seek employment elsewhere in the callings of their crafts. The tannery has since been rebuilt on a larger scale and has recalled its quota of the population and added more; the shoe factory has done the same; the woolen mill will doubtless follow later on, and a new shirt factory is about to open its doors here. But the fact that the census was taken just after those great fires cost Santa Rosa at least 1,000 population in the census figures.
Santa Rosa's city limits should be extended so that they will include all of Santa Rosa; and it is unfortunate that another enumeration cannot be made at the present time, when conditions are so much more favorable than they were when the count was made. It is probable that a more careful enumeration would have helped matters at that time. The future is what we must now consider, however, and not the past. We must have a Greater Santa Rosa!
- Press Democrat editorial, January 5, 1911
THE CENSUS ENUMERATIONWhy and Where Santa Rosa Should Have IncreasedEditor of the REPUBLICAN:
It is with interest that many of the citizens of this community read the census figures just announced by the officials at Washington and published in your paper...
...Santa Rosa's population showed an increase of 1144 people over the enumeration of ten years ago, or a percent of 17. This does not seem quite as great in comparison with other towns as could have been possible. Many of the residents have been guessing at the amount the figures would show, but in many instances their imaginations outnumbered their real thoughts. These people did not calculate upon the number of people taken from this city by the great fire and earthquake of some years ago, and furthermore, that the incorporated limits of Santa Rosa were filed many years ago, and at that time the men framing the charts of the city did not figure upon the great increase that would, and was bound to come, to this fertile spot. When they bounded the city on the west by Santa Rosa creek, little did they expect that in time to come enough people would move to that section to start another city larger than the one of which they were laying the limits.
But nevertheless, such has been the fact, and today the corporated limits of the beautiful city of Santa Rosa do not include what they should and many acres of land and taxes and benefits to the people are being lost by not including this tract in the limits of Santa Rosa.
Ten years ago the Roseland tract was field of grain and an orchard. Today it is a thickly populated district, not only composed of small farms, but many people reside there who enjoy all benefits of a city, and who come daily to the shopping district of Santa Rosa and traverse the streets, utilizing the rights of the taxpaying citizens.
This seems unfair, inasmuch as they in some instances, conduct business in this city and derive their source of living from these stores. Santa Rosa is incorporated on other sides of the city for many rods more than on the west, but to that side have the greater number of people bought homes to settle upon. A very jagged outline was formed when the city limits were made, and many people who have had occasion to visit that section and see the great numbers of homes and the people who made that their abode, wonder at the men composing the body of people who framed the city's boundary, and why a more regular line was not made.
Now I come with an earnest appeal as to why this section of land, with its many people have not been added to the city of Santa Rosa? Is Santa Rosa ashamed of the country? Or is it afraid to undertake such a task? We have a body of men who are able to cope with the situation and it is certain that the law making body of this city would do something that would bring applause to the multitude and something that would make them a body of people not to leave office and become forever unknown, without some showing for betterment for the city.
The census just shown proves that Santa Rosa has not grown as she should and one of the reasons is that, with rough calculation of people who have made a study of numbers, and calculated upon many bodies of people and homes that there are in the neighborhood of 3000 to 35000 people residing within a radius of a quarter of a mile west of the present boundary of the city of Santa Rosa. Now this is one of the rasons our census enumeration has not increased as great as should have been, and it is earnestly urged that some steps be taken to ascertain the reasons why that section of land should not be added to the city.
In these districts lying on the borders of the town are two schools which are supervised and under the direction of the city superintendent, receiving all the benefits derived from the city taxpayers and being attended by the children of people who do not aid the city's treasury in any manner. Again of all the 3500 people they are without any modern facilities, such as sewers, free water, fire protection and improved streets. All these reasons are placed before the people and the question is asked why do not the city fathers make the addition. These people, in almost every case, are willing to become part of the city and derive the city advantages, but they cannot rise up in arms and demand to be admitted to the folds of the city.
Many other California towns have changed their city limits in the recent years, owing to the rapid growth of population, and it is now time that something was being done toward the advancement of the city of Santa Rosa.
PROGRESS
- Santa Rosa Republican, January 6, 1911
A CENSUS ENUMERATOR WRITES SPLENDID LETTER
According to promise, I make good to your worthy army of brightest, tip-top newsboys. From top to bottom, I am deeply in love with news paperdom. Kill off the newspapers and we would be in midnight darkness. Encourage them, and we save and glorify mankind.
My experience as a census enumerator interested myself, and I hope it will interest the newsboys and the many readers of the REPUBLICAN. So here we go.
It required some months to prepare to take the test, and when it finally came, the cart seemed to be hitched up before the horse, and I felt like a cock of hay going to the press. I told Mr. Emmett Phillips, our up-to-date supervisor of census, that I expected to get left, but little tons of instruction kept on arriving until I felt as weary as Mr. Ballinger. Then I received my commission, with the promise of four-fifty per day. Uncle Sam told me to be a good little boy, or I would be fined five hundred dollars, and maybe go to the calaboose. I was to gather no news for the papers, nor talk politics, and leave all rag-chewing to the goats. And boys, I swear I have kept the faith. I did not write down a single item, but the news gathered itself to me; and somehow or other, stuck all over me, inside and out, so I am not goung to give you the forbidden fruit, only just everyday facts.
On the 15th day of April, at 7:00 a. m., I cammenced [sic] work on my own family (by the way, the largest in Salt Point township), then I loaded up like a little Boer from South Africa and started to enumerate the greatest township on earth. Afoot, with the mighty wealth of a single one cent stamp, I started on my mission. However, as I closed the gate, there at the window stood my mountain of strength and success. It was the sweet, little watching, loving eyes of my baby boy, and his mother, saying, "Jack, be good and come back." The people from the first showed a willingness to answer all the questions, only, "Oh, mister," or "that is a sticker," was occasionally brought out. Away up here in the redwoods, I soon found the sound of the political pot. "I am not allowed to talk upon these matters," I said. "But you cannot prevent us," was fired back. In every walk of life men who can vote are brim full of politics. Some are for Debs, some are for Hearst, others for Taft. "Teddy will be out next president," "Bryan is the best of them all," and so on. For Governor Hiram Johnson leads with the Republicans, but Charles Curry is hanging up his picture in every home. Theodore Bell hold his own to the end.
Tie making is in full blast, bark peeling is well along, haying has commenced, the fruit crop is good, excepting prunes, the dairymen are in luck; thus from one end of the township to the other everybody is busy, not an idle man to be found. It is true I found five silent saw mills, but that is because lumber is cheap and so it is more profitable to make split stuff. I had found out in a day or two that I must have a horse, or I would not make it in time. By now my one cent stamp had grown to be twice its value. Yes, every day proved beyond doubt that Salt Point township is the banner township for generosity. "What is my bill?" I asked at every house at which I ate, but there was no charge. "Glad to have you, old man; come again," was the reply. Back and forth I went through some of the finest forest to find tie makers in mountain and canyons. Just one thought I was the assessor and said, "I am only twenty," but he was soon able to say "I am twenty-three." Chinamen spoke in the inquisitive way. One young fellow ran away from the line number thirteen, but he came back, as I told him it was the luckiest number on earth. A few foreign born chaps took me to be a detective and thought I had come for them. I gave them my hand and their nerves were soon easy. Indians thought I was the Great Father's son all the way from Washington to give them a piece of land. Good old John Linderman at Salt Point told me to send him a dollar if I ever got my pay, but he doubted if I ever would. Still on I went, for I was charmed by seeing the country in all its glory. I arrived at night in Fort Ross, yet my welcome was so sincere and kind. All is well at the fort. By this time my letter day came and I explained to my good friend, William Morgan, the postmaster, that I did want so much to send a letter to Annapolis, but I only had a one cent stamp. Mr. Morgan furnished the other cent and I was so grateful, but I was broke. I received five dollars from my wife and you know pin money is the very best, and I felt like a lark and went singing over the divide, viewing the sleek flocks and herds of a a contented people. I found many happy children, but not enough of them. Happier would be the homes with them. Bachelors swarm in the township, but there will be less of them in the fall, as quite a number of them are moving from the danger zone to married life.
I only met one typical old maid in the district, and she could be heard to talk over two city blocks away. By now, I find Salt Point township as big as a county, and great as a kingdom, yet there is no doctor, no preacher, and no tinker living herein. There are eight schools and more teachers. There are four saloons and one church. Drunkenness is decreasing, as I only met two so far gone, no more than six with about seven fingers in the washtub. Only two desired to treat. I only saw three men play cards for money, and they had more gold and silver than there is in the bank of Annapolis. One young lady was uncertain as to just what class of breadwinners she belonged. After giving in the household I asked her occupation. She blushed, so I thought I would suggest she could take her choice. "Then," said she, "I would like to be a Gypsy." "Well," said I, "just become a census enumerator and you are it." You should have seen her beautiful pearly teeth, boys! They seemed as inviting as the gates of "The Holy City." I was afraid she was about to take up her bed and walk. Then I saw my wife and baby and said, "I must not talk." I found only two weak-minded children, and if they can be given the sun light and company, they are saved. I met one locked gate and just one wicked crank that threatened to blow up a family of sweet little children. Two people remembered seeing Halley's comet 75 years ago, Mrs. Rachel Throop and A. J. Lancaster. By the by, "Jack" Lancaster, with his crown of 80 and more years, is a very interesting person. "Jack" should have been a lawyer, and he once came very nearly being it. Mr. Lancaster had business in court at Santa Rosa over horses, and a bridle was produced to prove that it would not shut off a horse's wind, "and now if Mr. ----- will come forward, we will shut off his wind." "Jack" must be the only man in history that ever had such a chance in court.
I found no one in the township that kept a complete record of their business. Generally those who owned the most were the quickest to answer questions. I only went twice without my dinner, and slept twice like a rabbit, once my horse was sick, but I felt strong enough to carry him....
...During my travels through the district I was very anxious to get up in the morning to see the comet, and once I tried every door in the house, and I would have been trying yet if I had not been taken for a lock picker. I worked twelve hours a day and traveled almost 250 miles to do the work. At the end of twenty-five days I folded my portfolio and made for home, hoping and praying that the day will come soon when the electric railway will come to glorious old Salt Point so that I might take all the newsboys of Santa Rosa through the beautiful township by the sea.
I slipped up to the window, took hold of my wife's hand without her seeing me, as she was sewing, and she screamed, thinking she was being held up by a tramp, and so she was.
OLD CRIPPLED JACK.
- Santa Rosa Republican, June 21, 1910
Even though his brother was 76 year-old, James Wyatt Oates was shocked to learn the old man had died that afternoon in 1910. He had always seemed invincible; countless times he cheated death during the Civil War, despite being on the front lines of some of the bloodiest battles - the Wilderness and Spotsylvania, Chickamauga, Gettysburg. He was wounded six times, the last injury costing him his right arm. Still, it was nothing short of a miracle that he survived his last bout of combat at all; when that lead minie ball destroyed his arm he was facing a hail of enemy gunfire, waving his sword and urging his troops to fight even though the battle was clearly already lost. Confederate Colonel William C. Oates always fought hardest when he was on the losing side.
William and James Wyatt grew close, but not until after the Civil War. William was 17 years older, more like a father or uncle than a sibling. He was hardly around at all while Wyatt was a child, and was approaching middle age before he apparently developed any kind of bond with his youngest brother. William had already lived a full life to that point, having spent his youth brawling and gambling before settling down to be a successful Alabama lawyer, then Civil War warrior, then lawyer again. He was unmarried until he was 48 (although he was the father of two boys, one of them born to a slave who was his domestic servant), but there always was one constant in his life - his brother, John.
There was only two years difference in age between John and William. They were inseparable as children, each other's best friend. They even looked alike, although John was always a few inches shorter. John also read for the law and joined William's practice in Abbeville and when the war came they both were patriots in the Confederate vein. John was quick to enlist and became a private; William delayed a few months to raise a company from among the local men, with himself as captain. They were apart only a few months in different regiments before John was posted to his brother's company and promoted to 2nd lieutenant.
The 15th Alabama Regiment saw action in the following year of 1862, but luck followed them; even at the Battle of Antietam - the bloodiest day of the entire war - fewer than ten of them were killed. Morale remained high. John's health was beginning to deteriorate, however. Sleeping on frozen ground during the winter of 1862-1863 had caused him to develop acute rheumatism in his right hip and leg that was getting worse by the week. In the spring of 1863 he even requested a desk job as it had become painful to simply take a step.
By the time they arrived at Gettysburg on July 2nd, he was in particularly bad shape. They had just marched all night, making 28 miles in eleven hours; John fell behind and William sent back his spare horse for his brother to ride. Besides his constant pain and exhaustion, John had a high fever, yet still defied William's order that he report to sick leave. "I will go in with my company though I know it may cost me my life," he said, according to William's history. It would be the last time the brothers' spoke.
William had been given command of the 15th Alabama Regiment only about two months earlier, and this would be his first time leading them into battle. He was respected by his troops for always being in the front of the fighting, but his habit of not faithfully following and/or understanding orders along with his lack of any military education repeatedly led them into trouble that day. While under an artillery barrage, Oates sent 22 men off in search of water, leaving the regiment short-handed (and without canteens) when the order to advance came. He disobeyed direct orders to advance towards a position on the Confederate line, instead fruitlessly chasing Union sharpshooters up a steep hill covered with boulders, both further exhausting his men and wasting valuable time. When an officer caught up with his regiment and found them on the wrong hill, Oates tried to argue he thought there was a strategic advantage in staying put. Oates' regiment was ordered to follow orders, now greatly delayed with the afternoon shadows were growing longer. Meanwhile, Union troops had beaten Oates in taking command over the nearby hill called Little Round Top. (The battle
for Little Round Top was introduced in an earlier essay about William's 1905 visit to Santa Rosa, and can be explored in great depth at many Civil War history websites, such as this one.)
RIGHT: Artist's rendering of Col. Oates and the 15th Alabama at Little Round Top. Image courtesy U.S. Army CECOM Historical Office (artist credit not given)
For purposes here, let's summarize that Oates' many delays resulted in his regiment fighting uphill on Little Round Top, another rocky slope. The combat was bloody and continued for over an hour. On word that Union troops were also approaching from the rear, Oates ordered a retreat and his men began withdrawing for the night. Suddenly the Yankees locked bayonets and made a screaming charge down the hill, causing the Rebels to panic - "we ran like a herd of wild cattle," Oates later wrote with remarkable candor. Left behind were their dead and wounded, including John Oates. William did not know if his beloved brother was captured or dying or dead.
It was nearly two full months before William learned that John had been wounded by no less than six bullets. He survived for 23 days in a Union field hospital near the battleground before dying of blood poisoning. He was buried in his own casket in his own grave on the site, with a wooden headstone. By the time William revisited Gettysburg after the war, the marker was gone.
Through all the accomplishments that followed - four terms as a Congressman and two years as governor of Alabama, appointment as a brigadier general in the Spanish-American War - William Oates was haunted by Gettysburg and the fate of his brother. Biographer Glenn W. LaFantasie wrote in Gettysburg Requiem:
...[H]e was tougher than most men his age. What weighed on him, though, and sapped his strength...were his memories of Gettysburg, of the death of his young brother, of the ghost-like images of his comrades falling on Little Round Top, and of the lost opportunity that the battle represented for the Confederacy and for him personally. Oates could not escape the vise grip Gettysburg had on him, a grip that prevented him from ever gaining any real peace in his old soldier's soul. |
He hungered to know every detail of what happened to John after Little Round Top and what happened to his remains. After much sleuthing, he found the Union doctor who treated John and was heartened to learn that the doctor's family was drawn to John and his last words were, "Tell my folks at home that I died in the arms of friends."
William became morose every July 2 and December 24, the latter being John's birthday. On Christmas Eve, 1900, he wrote a letter to his 17 year-old son attending West Point. "The night recalls to me the fact that one whom you never saw but who was dear to me was born on Christmas Eve night." On these anniversaries, he wrote to Willie, the memories of their last conversation flooded back, and how he had failed to convince John to stay out of the battle. That John had died a prisoner of war sickened him. "He was a noble young man and died for his country and in a just cause as he and I both saw it."
For the last fifteen years of his life, William fought to have a monument built on Little Round Top commemorating the 15th Alabama regiment. "[W]hen I am dead and gone, I want to leave a little stone on the spot where my brother and others were killed," he wrote in his application. He wanted the marker to include a wordy plaque that mentioned John twice:
To the memory of Lt. John A. Oates and his gallant Comrades who fell here July 2nd, 1863. The 15th Ala. Regt., over 400 strong reached this spot, but for lack of support had to retire. Lt. Col. Feagin lost a leg. Capts. Brainard and Ellison, Lts. Oates and Cody and 33 men were killed, 76 wounded and 84 captured. Erect 39th Anniversary of battle, by Gen. Wm. C. Oates who was Colonel of the Regiment. |
In early 1909, he happened to discover John's body had been exhumed in 1872 and sent with the remains of eleven other Confederates to Virginia for reburial. Excited that he was at last about to find a grave where he could place a marker he sought more details, only to find that John's general burial spot was again unmarked and lost somewhere amid a large section designated only as "Gettysburg Hill" in a Richmond cemetery.
Hearing that news, "Oates became seriously ill and bedridden," according to biographer LaFantasie, not specifying what his ailment was. His doctor suggested the cool mountain air in North Carolina might make him feel better, but he soon turned back home and returned to bed. Exactly two months after learning that John's grave had forever disappeared, William Oates passed away quietly.
You could say he simply lost his will to live, and surely that would be hard to dispute.
SOURCES: Gettysburg Requiem: The Life and Lost Causes of Confederate Colonel William C. Oates by Glenn W. LaFantasie, 2006 The War Between the Union and the Confederacy and its Lost Opportunities by William C. Oates, 1905 John A. Oates: No Brothers Loved Each Other Better by Rosemary Pardoe The Inimitable William C. Oates by Glenn W. LaFantasie |
GENERAL WM. C. OATES DIES AT ALABAMA HOMEWas One of Most Beloved Men of the Entire South
General William C. Oates, a brother of Judge James W. Oates of this city, died at his home in Montgomery, Alabama, on Friday. Not only did the news cause great sorrow in the Oates household here, but it will cause sorrow and genuine regret to many Santa Rosans who had met the courtly southerner in his several visits to Santa Rosa, where he was the guest of his relatives, Judge and Mrs. Oates.
The deceased was a born leader of men, and all of his life has been in the forefront of progressive movements for his beloved south. He served from the start to the finish of the civil war, first under General Stonewall Jackson and after his death under General Longstreet. At the close of the war he had gained the title of colonel and was in command of a brigade of cavalry.
General Oates was probably the most beloved man of Montgomery, and one of the most prominent men of the entire south. Early in his eventful and energetic life he became a great favorite with the people there, and the close of his life found him receiving the admiration of all the people among whom he had lived so many years. Judge Thomas C. Denny of this city spent some days with General Oates and his estimable family during July, and he remarked when he returned to this city that he had never seen a people so united in the love and veneration of a man as were the residents of the southern city in their love and veneration of General Oates.
Thirteen times was General Oates wounded in the civil war, and in that eventful struggle he lost his right arm. As soon as he could recover from this wound, he was back at the front again, and the close of the great struggle found him fighting as aggressively as he did at the commencement of hostilities. General Oates enlisted with the Fifteenth Alabama Infantry Volunteers of the Confederate army, taking up arms early in 1861, and remaining with the army until the final close. He was in every fight in which the Confederate army of northern Virginia engaged from and including the first battle of Bull Run. In his thirteen wounds General Oates was twice severely wounded, one of these being the loss of the arm. Wounds had no effect on his valor and he would again go to the front as rapidly as he could recover and and fight aggressively. He was always a leader, and in every movement looking to the restoration and upbuilding of the south following the war, he was in the Vanguard. General Oates lost his arm in front of Petersburg in the fall of 1864, Death claimed him at the age of seventy-eight years that were crowned with many successes. Prior to becoming a resident of Montgomery, he resided in Eufala, Alabama, where he was born.
General Oates had many times been honored by the people of his native state with public office. In 1870 and the two years following he was a member of the state legislature; in 1875 he was chosen a member of the state constitutional convention; in 1880 he was elected to represent his district in Congress, and remained in the national legislature for the following fifteen years; at the end of that time he resigned to accept an election as governor of his state. He served as governor for two years, and then declined re-election. In 1897 he was again chosen a member of the state constitutional convention.
At the beginning of the Spanish-American hostilities the war spirit in the southerner again arose and he was appointed a brigadier general in the army, and he served until the close of the war.
Five years ago General Oates was given an appointment by President Roosevelt that was a fitting close to his activities of his earlier life. He was made a United States commissioner to locate and mark the graves of Confederate dead, who had died in Union prisons. He was busily engaged in this task almost up to the time of his death and to him it was a pleasant duty to seek out the graves of former comrades in a great struggle and see that they were given proper recognition.
For some time past it had been realized that the health of General Oates had been failing, but it was not believed the dread end was near. A short time ago he went to the springs at Asheville, North Carolina, but no change for the betterment taking place in his condition, he returned to his beloved Alabama to pass his remaining days. The news of his death was a great shock to Judge and Mrs. Oates here, for they had believed that their beloved relative was improving. They had intended making a journey to Alabama early in the coming spring to visit with General Oates and his family.
Four times General Oates and his wife and only son William C. Oates, Jr., crossed the continent to this city. They met many residents of this city and all of the people here who met them formed close friendships for the visitors.
Judge Oates is an only brother of the deceased, but three sisters survive, Mrs. M. J. Long of Abbeville, Ala.; Mrs. A. E. Linton of Galveston, Texas; and Mrs. L. Hickman of Jacksonville, Fla., In addition to these the devoted widow and son mentioned above also survive.
- Santa Rosa Republican, September 10, 1910
The news of the death of General Oates, former Governor of Alabama, came as a shock to Colonel James Wyatt Oates, the Governor's brother. Governor Oates is very pleasantly remembered by many Santa Rosa friends who had the pleasure of meeting him here when he visited his brother. He was a fine man, possessing all the qualifications of the courteous, hospitable Southern gentleman. He was an eminent scholar and a distinguished soldier. Many sympathetic messages will be forwarded to the family from Santa Rosa.
- "Society Gossip," Press Democrat, September 11, 1910
Another big change in 1910 Santa Rosa: Newspaper advertisers suddenly discovered women buy things and even spend money on themselves.
Newspaper display ads had changed little since the end of the 19th century. In small town daily papers like the Press Democrat and Santa Rosa Republican, an ad with a photograph or drawing usually promoted the same national brands of patent medicines, goop like Danderine shampoo, whiskey, pianos, automobiles and the like, year after year. Local businesses sometimes offered generic cartoon clip art, although it was occasionally used in ways that were tangent or simply inappropriate, such as the Santa Rosa grocer who thought he could sell more meat by showing a cartoon of a pedestrian being run down with a car. What clothing ads that appeared were aimed at dressing men (overcoats! shoes!) with an occasional promotion of the latest engineering in wasp-waisted corsets to inflict organ damage on mature women.
But my, oh my, did things start to change in 1910. Mixed among the usual drab lot there sometimes appeared an illustration with beautiful artwork and elegant composition, such as the first one shown below. It probably took away everyone's breath at the time; encountering it today still has that effect because it looks so damned modern compared to everything else around it. The laundry soap ad below it was equally compelling. Although not at all artistic, it was guaranteed to be the first thing a reader noticed on that page. Whomever designed its layout was no less brilliant than the creator of the fashion ad.
What all these ads have in common is that they were all aimed at women who made purchasing decisions for themselves without permission from a husband or parent. Buying a new hat in the latest style is an easy example, but nothing here so demonstrates women managing money independently than the luxury of discreetly having your painful corns plastered and bunions scraped by an "expert chiropodist" while at the hairdresser.
Why the change in 1910? For starters, the economy had greatly stabilized after the 1907 bank panic, which nearly plunged America into a great depression. Santa Rosa had mostly finished rebuilding from the 1906 earthquake and there seemed to be more disposable income available, as demonstrated by there being four downtown movie theaters. Or maybe the Press Democrat - where all the ads below appeared - started listening to Oscar E. Binner, one of the leading figures in commercial illustration and advertising in the world. In 1910 he was living in Santa Rosa at least part time, trying to build a business empire around Luther Burbank.
It's also possible American society was becoming slightly less paternalistic, as hinted in the Santa Rosa Republican reprinting a little magazine essay on the travails of being a housewife. "The wonder to me is that in this ceaseless grind of petty, monotonous cares, the majority of the women do not go insane. Most men would." It's not exactly a manifesto for gender equality, but nonetheless surprising to find in the one of the local papers.
But if Santa Rosa women were enjoying greater purchasing power, it wasn't because there were recently great strides made in the American suffrage movement; a two-year effort to collect one million signatures on a petition for a suffrage Constitutional amendment failed to get even half that number. Most of the front page coverage of the movement concerned the huge demonstrations taking place in London which cumulated in Black Friday that November, when hundreds of women were assaulted or arrested by police while protesting outside Parliament.
The majority of 1910 newspaper coverage of the U.S. suffrage movement concerned the hissing flapdoodle: Suffragists warmly welcomed President Taft for speaking at their annual convention - the first president to do so - but the mood soured during his speech when he warned that it could be dangerous to allow women to vote because it would be "exercised by that part of the class which is less desirable." He also suggested women first "must be intelligent enough to know their own interests" 'lest they be on the par of "Hottentots" (an ugly slur meaning a primitive, even savage, group). When someone hissed, Taft doubled-down on the condescending attitude: "Now my dear ladies, you must show yourselves capable of suffrage by exercising that degree of restraint which is necessary in the conduct of government affairs by not hissing." Amazingly, Taft often stuck his foot into his enormous mouth like this; a wag later wrote, "His capacity for saying the wrong thing, or for being understood to say the wrong thing, amounts almost to genius."
YOUR OCCUPATIONLESS WIFE
You took upon yourself a wife, and it is your duty to support her as best you may; also, in due season there came struggling along certain very small and absurd travelers from Noman's Land, and it is your duty to support them. Consequently you must dig; you must be at the office when you would greatly prefer to go fishing; you must earn the bread, not only for yourself, but for from two to a dozen others, by the sweat of your brow and by keeping your nose faithfully on the ever whirring grindstone. Tough, isn't it? Oh, you bet, one has to pay the price for being a man! And then to add to the sting, the average woman has nothing to do except keep house.
Yes, it really is a fact that many women have nothing to do--except, of course, to keep house, and as the United States census bureau so happily states the case, that is not an occupation. For a light and enjoyable form of entertainment commend me to keeping house, although the women do make such an immortal row over it. Consider for a moment what a snap it is. All the housewife has to do every day without intermission is: Get the breakfast, wash and wipe the dishes, make the beds, straighten the rooms, get lunch, wash and wipe the dishes, mend the kid's clothing, spank the baby, make a new gown for Susie, get the dinner, wash and wipe the dishes, look neat and cheerful so she will attract her husband, improve her intel--
Oh, see here! I haven't the heart to continue the list. The wonder to me is that in this ceaseless grind of petty, monotonous cares, the majority of the women do not go insane. Most men would; ours may be the stronger sex, but we would.
And we do not wish our wives to seek some occupation that, strangely enough, suits them better, and hire a housekeeper, because we are so tenderly considerate of them you know! John, Henry or Adolph, don't you make yourself tired when you think about yourself and you self considering regard for you wife! Just between ourselves, I do.--California Weekly.
There will always be mysteries surrounding the 1906 Santa Rosa earthquake, but now two of them are resolved. Well, one of them, for sure.
As the decades passed, the tale of the earthquake became enshrined into myth. The basic story holds that downtown area was completely destroyed, over 100 were killed (making the ratio of deaths worse than in the San Francisco quake), but the plucky litte farm town quickly rose from the ashes, phoenix-like. None of that is true, but that version has a nice dramatic arc.
Few made a greater impact on early 20th century Santa Rosa than the extended Rockwell family, and members will be mentioned often in upcoming articles. Here's a quick guide: Bertrand Rockwell (1844-1930) was a Civil War veteran who rose through the ranks from a private to captain in the Iowa Infantry. He saw combat in seven states, including the Battle of Fort Blakely in Alabama, now recognized as the last major battle of the war (in the last charge, a brigade of African-Americans advanced with bayonets, causing the Confederates to race towards white Union soldiers to surrender). In civilian life he became wealthy as a merchant and grain dealer, then later the president of a national bank as well as a director on several other national banks. He is still remembered today for his much-needed cash donations in the days immediately following the 1906 Santa Rosa earthquake (see accompanying story). James Edwards married Florence Rockwell in 1903, one of the five daughters of Bertrand and Julia Rockwell. Edwards was the assistant cashier at Exchange Bank at the time of the 1906 earthquake and was named treasurer of the Earthquake Relief Fund. He served as mayor of Santa Rosa 1910-1912 and later president of the Luther Burbank Company. Their home at 930 Mendocino Avenue was designed by Florence's sister, Mary Rockwell Hook, a notable architect who created several homes now on the National Register of Historic Places, including the Edwards' home. Anna Finlaw (profiled in an earlier story) was the sister of Julia Rockwell and the aunt of Florence Edwards. She was the founder of the Saturday Afternoon Club and sponsored cultural events. Like other members of the family, she shared a great yen for culture and travel. All made several lengthy tours of Europe and some visited China and Japan. When in the states they were frequently visitors at each other's homes for extended stays. |
With the cash in hand, Captain Rockwell organized and paid gangs of workers to extricate the dead and wounded from the debris. He helped set up two emergency hospitals--one at the new Church of the Incarnation rectory, the other at the Saturday Afternoon Clubhouse. When the crisis had passed he divided the surplus money among all the minsters in town, for distribution to the sick and needy. |
Trouble is, there's no evidence that most of that happened. Yes, he went to Petaluma and came back with an auto probably groaning under the weight of silver dollars which he used to pay workers, but nothing can be found in primary sources that even suggests the rest of the story is true. There was no mention of him organizing workers and two hospitals (the latter is particularly easy to dispute because the Saturday Afternoon Club clubhouse wasn't built for another two years). Nor did the newspapers and surviving letters from that time say anything about Rockwell showering the local churches with riches that would have been worth around a million dollars today.
The first mention of Rockwell's involvement appears in the City Council minutes for April 19, the day after the earthquake: "Mr. Rockwell stated that he was willing to pay the workers for the first 2 days for their service in rescuing those caught in the wreck the amount subscribed was $800.00. On motion duly made and seconded the offer of Mr. Rockwell was accepted with thanks."
That terse notice is of great significance. Rockwell put an $800 cap on his donation, which could imply that was all the cash he was able to get. But that he already had the money is what's remarkable; as all banks in California were closed on April 19th by state order - and remained closed past the end of the month - which meant he had to have made the trip to Petaluma on that chaotic, end-of-the-world day of the quake itself, when few were thinking clearly. Another possibility: They obtained the money as a special favor when the Petaluma bank was not open at all, either after hours or on the morning of the 19th. In a later memoir of events, Florence Edwards specifically mentioned Frank Denman cashed her father's check. As cashier of the Sonoma County Bank of Petaluma, Denman had keys to the bank - but he was also James Edwards' brother-in-law, married to his older sister, Charlotte.
The next mentions of Rockwell came on April 21, the third day after the disaster. The combined Democrat-Republican newspaper reported, "Captain B. Rockwell of Junction City, Kansas, father of Mrs. J. R. Edwards, who donated $800 in cash to pay off men employed in removing debris and recovering bodies from the hotels gave each man his wage on Friday night and will do so again today." The same edition noted, "[Relief Committee] Treasurer Edwards reported this morning subscriptions to the amount of $970.60, including the $800 donation from Captain Rockwell."
According to the May 4 City Council minutes, Rockwell's total donation ended up being $692 - enough to pay 173 men for working that Friday and Saturday. That is also the exact amount specified in a commendation sent to Rockwell at the end of May by the City Council.
The only other known primary source came from a letter by Florence Edwards published May 9 in the Wellesley College alumni newsletter (a remarkable discovery by local historian Neil Blazey). Florence wrote, "Father went right to the rescue and began to pay the workmen to unearth the bodies, and has spent a thousand dollars (all the money he could get) on the work." The letter also mentions Rockwell had "sent for money to come by express," so if he did make other charitable donations, it could have come later from those funds.
When Rockwell returned for a visit here in 1908, the Press Democrat reminded readers, "he was signally generous in his offers of assistance in that trying hour" without mentioning any dollar amounts, though the San Francisco Call noted he "paid nearly $1000 for wages to men." During his next visit two years later, the PD stated, "At the time of the disaster in 1906, Captain Rockwell hurried to Santa Rosa and contributed hundreds of dollars in ready cash to pay for the rescue of the bodies of unfortunates and the demolition of buildings, thus providing employment for many men out of work and their pay."By the time he died in 1930, the legend was growing. According to his Press Democrat obituary, "He rushed off to Petaluma where his check for $2,500 was cashed and he brought back the coin in silver dollars. It was then he said: 'Put men to work at once. Here is the money, and more will be coming.'" It's a good heroic quote, but clear fiction.
At some unknown point later, the size of his generosity swelled to $5,000. That number is specified in an undated essay by Florence Edwards, so accurate or no, this became the family memory. A 1953 Press Democrat earthquake anniversary article on Rockwell's gift is nearly verbatim the account that appeared later in Santa Rosa: A 19th Century Town.
Enlisting his son-in-law, an Exchange Bank officer, to drive him, Capt. Rockwell cashed a check for $5,000 in Petaluma and returned to Santa Rosa. With the money, Capt. Rockwell paid organized gangs of workers to dig the dead and the trapped from the debris. He also helped to set up 2 emergency hospitals--one at the newly-finished Episcopal rectory, the other at the Saturday Afternoon Clubhouse. And when the crisis was past, the Good Samaritan from Kansas City gave funds to every minister in Santa Rosa for distribution to the sick and needy. |
So in sum, Rockwell's donation was officially $692.00 (which was still the largest contribution from an individual and more than an average Santa Rosa annual household income at the time) but in the telling and retelling and sloppy newspapering it was inflated until we reached the $5,000 figure now repeated as gospel. But here's the thing: Exaggerating what Bertrand Rockwell actually did for Santa Rosa only gilds the lily. It was absolutely remarkable that he had the foresight to dash for cash and perhaps more amazing that he was able to get any money at all. His act need not be super-sized to make him a real life hero.
And I readily concede I could be wrong; trying to prove a negative is always a chancy business. There's a gap in the Santa Rosa newspaper microfilm between May 3-18 (presumably a snafu at the town library, which archived the newspapers) and those editions might have reported in screaming headlines that Rockwell was going from church to church throwing money from the pulpits. But in those weeks other newspapers around the Bay Area were reporting on relief efforts in Santa Rosa and would surely have mentioned that a visitor was performing extraordinary act of charity. Also, Santa Rosa had no urgent need for cash donations past those first days of crisis; the relief fund had collected nearly $31,000 after two weeks had passed, most of it lying undistributed in a safe deposit box until the end of the year.
The second part of the Rockwell legend concerns a letter of gratitude. Again quoting Santa Rosa: A 19th Century Town:
His only reward was a letter dispatched from Santa Rosa to his Junction City, Kansas home on May 11, 1906...the letter was signed by 132 Santa Rosans--Luther Burbank, Herbert Slater, Frank Doyle, and Dr. James W. Jesse among them. It was apparently thanks enough. On the back of the letter, which passed to his heirs, Captain Rockwell had written, "I consider this the best thing I ever did." |
It's a touching epilogue, but also appeared to be a fiction. In the City Council minutes can be found a resolution of thanks (again, specifically mentioning $692) but it was written a few weeks later and had a different text, plus there was nothing mentioned about having it signed by every prominent man. I queried archivists and other historians in California and Kansas, but no one knew where the document was, or could even say with much confidence it existed. At best, the response was, "I think I saw it once somewhere."As it turns out, there is a copy of the letter in a scrapbook maintained by Rockwell descendants - in the form of a yellowed clipping from the April 17, 1953 edition of the Press Democrat that published a reproduction of the thank-you letter. The PD chopped it up to format on one page, but it is shown here reassembled in what is believed to be its original form. (CLICK or TAP to enlarge.) At the time it was owned by 81 year-old Florence Edwards, but is now presumed lost.
So there were actually two letters of thanks sent to Captain Rockwell; the May 11 one with all the signatures and the formal city document of May 29 (the Rockwell family has that document). And I'm guessing there was a good story behind both.
On May 10, the City Council met and approved resolutions of gratitude be sent to Petaluma and Sebastopol for their assistance the day of the earthquake. There is no mention in the Council minutes of a similar resolution be drafted for Rockwell. It seems significant that the public thank-you was written the very next day and closes with a line that suggests enmity among the Council members: "We regret that some of us were prevented from personally expressing to you our appreciation of your generosity." The big John Hancock at the top the signature list was Councilman William D. Reynolds. It is easy to imagine Mr. Reynolds, a real estate man by trade, storming downtown door-to-door collecting signatures to correct this affront. It was also Reynolds who introduced the May 29 resolution for the city to formally thank Rockwell, presumably after some arms were well twisted.
Also below are two memoirs of the 1906 earthquake, transcribed and published for the first time, courtesy the Rockwell family. Both speak of the terror of the moment "when the earthquake came crashing through this town," as Florence Edwards wrote. Her mother, Julia, later recalled, "From the windows we could see great clouds and columns of what appeared to be smoke, going skyward...the town was on fire. No, it was dust from seven blocks of buildings down." Both mentioned "We saw the pictures hung on long cords turn over to the wall," which has to be one of the creepiest images of that terrible event I've ever encountered. Imagine fearing it is the actual end of the world and seeing the portraits of your departed ancestors and other loved ones turn around, as if even they could not bear to watch.
May 29 Resolution to Captain B. Rockwell
Councilman Reynolds offered the following Resolution-
Whereas Captain B. Rockwell, a citizen of Junction City, state of Kansas, was a visitor in the City of Santa Rosa on the 18th day of April, 1906. and seeing the distress of our people and their great financial loss, was moved by his generous impulses and sympathy for these in distress, to assist our people in the removing the ruins of our fallen buildings in search for the unfortunate dead, and for that purpose contributed from his private funds the sum of $692, and
Whereas in full gratitude to him for his timely assistance and also realize that such acts of generosity should not go unnoticed by a grateful people, therefore for it
Resolved, that Captain B. Rockwell has the heartfelt thanks of our people and especially of the Mayor and Common Council of the City of Santa Rosa for his timely assistance and generous act, and be it further
Resolved, that this preamble and Resolution be spread upon the minutes of the Council and that copy thereof certified by our Clerk with the corporate seal of our City attached, be forwarded to Mr. Rockwell and a copy for furnished the press of our City.
Respectfully submitted
Committee
The letter here quoted was written from Santa Rosa, California, by a sister of Miss Bertha Rockwell, 1893-1894, and Miss Mary Rockwell, 1900.
"After four days of horror, with death and destruction on all sides, I must tell you that we are alive and altho' penniless, have a house which can be lived in by having the foundations strengthened, new plaster and new chimneys.
"Father is going to have it done for us and will of course keep us in necessary food until I can command some sort of a salary.
"Our dead friends are buried, and we've been working in the hospitals and trying to dig out our houses. Not a brick building stands and our beautiful town in flat, most of it burned too. Oh, I cannot tell you what we've been through and still we are not as desperate as San Francisco. Five to ten millions won't cover our losses here. We have had the most ruin of any place from the earthquake. I can't describe the shock to you. We were all without our senses but I remember the frightful roar and my mother's screams, the cracking of bricks and timbers. We couldn't stand up, were rolled out of bed and around like nine pins. All the charm of this land is gone. We hate the roses as they cling about the ruin.
"Father went right to the rescue and began to pay the workmen to unearth the bodies, and has spent a thousand dollars (all the money he could get) on the work. There is no money to be had. We couldn't get away if we wanted to, we can't get credit and here we are, on the mercy of the public for our food. Oh, it's terrible!
"All the money in the world could not a telegram sent from here. There are no lines. Father went away on the train to the nearest line to cable the girls we were alive, and also sent for money to come by express. There will be great want here and we must have help at once. I fear that everything will be sent to San Francisco and we will be forgotten. Anything people send will be appreciated.
"We do not need anything; but many many people will need. J. is treasurer of the relief fund, without much to deal out thus far. Perhaps the Wellesley girls will be interested in sending a small sum to ten thousand ruined people."
FLORENCE ROCKWELL EDWARDS.
- "Alumnae Notes," College News, Wellesley Mass., May 9, 1906
My parents Capt. and Mrs. Bertrand Rockwell came to visit us in our home (rented) out on Humboldt Street when the earthquake came crashing through this town. I started to run to my screaming parents but was held back in a doorway where Jim and I stood and watched our grand piano roll to the other side of the room and back. We saw the pictures hung on long cords turn over to the wall and listened to the crash of our beautiful wedding china and glass as it smashed on the floor. My parents screaming as they both fell down on the floor amid glass and china and cut their knees and hands.
We dressed as fast as we could and ran to my aunt's home (Mrs. Finlaw) opposite the Episcopal church - she could not open any of her doors, the locks were all banged and smashed. It was like the world coming to an end. Destruction on all sides. The problem was what to do - and then began to save those who were alive but underneath the buildings that had fallen.
My husband Jim Edwards and my father Capt. Rockwell drove to Petaluma so Frank Denman could get my father $5000 which he gave to Santa Rosa to pay men to work to release the people who were caught under blocks of destruction. Many lives were saved by the money my father donated. The bodies who died and those who were saved under the bricks of the Hotel Santa Rosa on the corner opposite the post office now standing. At that time all there was at the corner where the post office is now was the residence of Mrs. Edwards, Jim's mother. We laid the bodies out on her lawn as they were taken from the Hotel Santa Rosa on the corner of 4th and B Street extending into 5th Street. For days the work of saving lives and removing bodies went on all over Santa Rosa as the pictures of the wrecks can be seen. We finally went to San Francisco hired one of the wagons who carried sight-seeing people all through the ruins of San Francisco from Van Ness Avenue out to the Presidio. Every one cooked in the streets as no houses had any lights or cooking facilities for months. Just masses of plaster and destruction for miles around where laid before what was our beautiful city of San Francisco.
- undated essay by Florence Rockwell Edwards
Coming across a letter dated April 25th 1906 to Emily then at Detroit Michigan school told her in rather mild terms, I think now, not to alarm her unnecessarily about the earthquake. This was a week after it happened. The accounts I have read descriptive of the earthquake, and the movie of the same [presumably the 1936 Clark Gable, Jeanette MacDonald movie, "San Francisco" - Ed.], have passed over this dreadful catastrophe lightly than it really was I can vouch for that. Moveover it was detrimental to the growth of the state, which was all right. That morning of April 19th at five o'clock in the morning people wakened from sleep thought the world had come to the end. Terrific noise and the thought of self preservation ran as we did not conscious in the flight where to. Nothing that I've ever experienced in my life was as terrible as that shock. Evidently we got from our room into the hall, to be thrown down by a leather gun case, which had stood in the corner.
What a sight came to our eyes on coming to, was the living room, bricks from the living room fire place were scattered over the floor, all the ornaments from the mantle, books everywhere along with vases of flowers, and the only thing standing was bronze head of Wagner.
Jim immediately knowing it was an earthquake held Florence from going to me screaming as I was, while the plastering was falling about them, and I saw them standing in the doorway looking at the wreck. Not for long however, for Jim was at the telephone, no answer. He was dressed and on his bicycle to go see his mother and sister.
From the windows we could see great clouds and columns of what appeared to be smoke, going skyward...the town was on fire. No, it was dust from seven blocks of buildings down. Though several blocks did burn, and more destruction been caused, had not one Fireman driven his horse out at the first tremble and so saved some of the city.
I remember how cold I was, shaking, and with trembling fingers, adding more wraps to my already warm costume, to go see what was happening to my sister.
A woman running down the street screaming, "Oh, my sister, my sister" added to my trembling. No thought of breakfast had entered our minds, the china closet had opened, and all across the dining room the china and glassware, lovely wedding presents, along with jelly had crashed in a mass, but we did not stop except to step aside.
The milk and bluing bottles had emptied their contents on the table on the porch, and along the floor out the door, and the ornamental posts of the elaborate fence gate were lying across the street. What impressions one gets under such circumstances. Our maid had gone we knew not where so leaving the house all open we too made our way toward the city.
How crazy things looked, houses partly over, some on one side, others entirely down, people everywhere. A friend ran to tell us she could not have us that evening for dinner, we had entirely forgotten it in all the distress about us.
Sister had escaped being killed by a huge gun falling across the doorway, the pictures in the living room with its high ceilings were turned to over, come to think of it, was funny. No chimneys on any house, and the destruction grew worse as we neared the city.
The fine courthouse partly down, the dead and injured were being take out of buildings and laid on the grass in a yard, others being taken into homes not badly damaged or friends taking the bodies away, others brought in a wagon their clothing covered with blood, a gruesome sight. We could only stand and look since already many were at work.
The courthouse was badly damaged as were the places of business along the streets such a sorry sight one seldom sees and the smoke going up in clouds from the burning buildings.
I could look back at the Saturday before when a party of us came to the city from Inverness where we were summering, and found the Bay gay with flags on the shipping to greet a Governor coming from the Philippines, and now from our window we watched that city burning three days and nights.
In the twenty days after the earthquake we had many "shakes" and it was a question what to do, but the rescue of the dead among the ruins went on day and night, until more than one hundred were recovered, and people began to restore their homes, for no one had a chimney, ourselves among the number. We had a place out in the yard where we cooked and heated water and left the doors open at night so that we might run if another shock came.
A week after we were allowed to go to the City, where in a little wagon and one horse we drove about, indeed we went as far as the Presidio to see our friend Mrs. Andrews, then post mistress and passed the Park with its hundreds of campers, and many out on the sidewalks kitchen.
It was terrible sight the City of San Francisco no pen could describe the desolation. The water mains having been broken with the earthquake the ground went down leaving great ditches along the streets and this lack of water caused the fire. No water. No telegraph wires, so Mr. Rockwell took the train to Vallejo to send word that we were safe to the daughters, one in Detroit Michigan and the other to three daughters in Paris France.
- undated essay by Julia Rockwell
Profiled earlier was a Santa Rosa girl who died from a botched abortion in 1909. Now let's meet the villain responsible for her pregnancy: Professor Forest C. Richardson, a 45 year-old teacher, husband, father and serial sexual predator.
If this story was less outrageous it's doubtful the local newspapers would have covered it at all. Anything related to sex that might arouse prurient interests was downplayed and thickly coated in euphanisms; a child molester who lurked around the E street bridge in 1906 and repeatedly grabbed young girls was described in a Press Democrat headline as a "hugger." The only time I recall seeing the word "rape" was in a 1909 PD item that did not mention the victim at all - although readers of the Santa Rosa Republican knew she was 13 years old (that paper, however, described the the crime merely as "assault"). Also taboo was abortion, which was dubbed instead the "criminal operation," as discussed in the essay about the young Santa Rosa woman who died following the procedure.
It was apparently a mention of Professor Richardson in the San Francisco coroner's jury findings that led Sonoma County District Attorney Clarence Lea to bring him in for questioning. Richardson and his family had been in Santa Rosa since 1905 and operated the Richardson's Business College at 521A Fourth street, which was probably only a room or two of walk-up office space. As the Press Democrat pointed out at some length, it had nothing to do with Sweet's Santa Rosa Business College, "a large and successful institution [that] stands high in the estimation of the community." Those who attended Richardson's school, according to the Republican paper, were "mainly poor girls, struggling to get along in the world and make something of themselves."
From the accounts that appeared in the Santa Rosa papers and San Francisco Call, Richardson was emphatic that the District Attorney understood he had nothing to do with the girl's abortion-related death. But yes, he confessed he had a "familiarity with her" that dated back four years - when she would have been 14 years old - and that there had been others as well. When any of the girls became pregnant he gave them some sort of pill that was supposed to be an abortifacient. Richardson was arrested after signing a lengthy confession and the Grand Jury indicted him on criminal assault (rape) and furnishing girls with drugs for illegal purposes (abortion).
The prosecutor dropped the rape charges - perhaps the four young women investigated by the DA were consenting adults? - and concentrated on a star witness. This woman testified Richardson had vowed to run away with her to another country and had given her a ring. When she became pregnant he gave her some of his special pills. They didn't work and as childbirth drew near he didn't provide the financial help promised. Thus she came to court and testified against him, bringing along their infant. Also in the courtroom were Richardson's wife and four kids, which probably made for a few squirmy moments.
With excerpts from his confession being read in court and no defense made except to vilify the character of the witness, it was assumed that jurors would make quick work of their decision. They didn't. The jury was deadlocked after being sequestered overnight.
When the retrial began a couple of weeks later, the Press Democrat could no longer maintain its pretense of journalistic objectivity, such as the nicety of using the word, "alleged." One headline read, "State Calls Further Witnesses in Case Revealing Degeneracy of a Former Instructor" and while mentioning that Richardson's family again was in the courtroom, sneered "the children being fortunately too young to grasp the meaning of the details of their father's lust."
The second jury found him guilty within five minutes, cheering themselves for a job done well. Richardson was sentenced to four years in San Quentin.
Richardson's family remained here while he was in prison, living at the small house at 125 W 8th St. that still stands. The 1915 city directory revealed he joined them and was again working as a teacher (yikes!) somewhere not mentioned. The last trace of him is in the 1920 census, where he was listed as a janitor at the Western Union office in Seattle.
PROFESSOR RICHARDSON FACES SERIOUS CHARGETestimony of Young Girls May Convict Teacher of Felony
Professor F. C. Richardson, of Richardson's Business College in this city, is under arrest at the county jail and is being held to face a serious charge.
The exact charge against the accused is that he has supplied a girl with drugs to be used in an attempt to commit an abortion, and directing their use. This charge will not bar the district attorney from filing another complaint at any time on a more serious charge.
According to the evidence against the man, he has ruined a number of girls who have attended his school, and has used his office in that place to accomplish his purpose. Some of his victims are declared to be under the legal age of consent, while some of the charges against him are now outlawed.
Richardson was summoned to the office of District Attorney Lea Saturday morning and was there given an opportunity to tell his story. Previously Mr. Lea had devoted considerable time to investigation of the girls alleged to have wronged by this monster. It is alleged that Richardson admitted much of the charges placed against him.
As yet no warrant has been issued against Richardson. He was arrested by constable Gilliam and is being detained at the county jail.
The man's offense is all the more heinous when it is considered that his victims were mainly poor girls, struggling to get along in the world and make something of themselves, while he has been at work tearing down their defenses and betraying them.
The penalty for the crime with which Richardson is charged is from two years to five years in the penitentiary.
- Santa Rosa Republican, January 22, 1910
CONFESSES GUILT OF HEINOUS CRIMEProfessor C. H. Richardson Arrested Saturday and is Now Lodged in the County Jail
Professor C. H. Richardson, who for several years conducted Richardson's Business College in this city, occupies a steel-bound cell in the county jail, where he was lodged Saturday after he had told a shocking story to District Attorney Clarence Lea admitting improprieties with a number of young girls.
To men whose official duties frequently cause them to hear details of depravity, Richardson's admissions, coupled with the evidence they have secured, constitute a case unsurpassed by any that has come to their knowledge. With some show of shame, Richardson admits that he has been "very foolish." Beyond that he has little to say.
Richardson's traffic in immorality, according to his own statement to District Attorney Lea, has covered something like four years, or practically ever since he took up his residence in Santa Rosa. In his former home in Texas similar charges were made against him, and he left there.
To District Attorney Lea Richardson on Saturday confessed to five victims of his lust. District Attorney Lea is withholding names, but it is known that one of the victims of the man now behind the bars was a young woman who died recently in San Francisco under suspicious circumstances and whose death it will be remembered was made the matter of investigation. Richardson states that his familiarity with her dates back four years ago, but he denies any complicity with the cause of her death.
The specific charge against Richardson in the complaint sworn out in Judge Atchinson's court by Constable Boswell is that of furnishing drugs to girls for an improper purpose. When seen Saturday night District Attorney Lea said:
"There is no doubt as to the truth of Richardson's admissions. He has been persistently and incessantly ruining young girls. The matter was first brought to my attention a day and a half ago, and since then we have worked diligently on the case, and when Richardson was arrested today we were quite sure of our ground. He later made a confession to me of his wrong doing."
- Press Democrat, January 23, 1910
UGLY CHARGES PUT PROFESSOR IN JAILGirl Pupils Accuse the Head of Santa Rosa Business College of Heinous Offense
(Special Dispatch to The Call)
SANTA ROSA, Jan 22.--With the arrest today of Professor Forest C. Richardson whispered rumors grew into broad tales of scandal concerning conditions at the local business college of which he is the head. A number of young Santa Rosa girls have been pupils at the institution and the revelations have shocked the community.
The investigations were begun by District Attorney Clarence F. Lea following the death in San Francisco of Leora Hendrison, an 18 year old girl, who had been a student at Richardson's school. Miss Hendrison's death was followed by the arrest of a San Francisco physician. The ensuing inquiry caused attention to be directed toward Richardson's school.
The information that has come to the district attorney leads him to believe that the most serious accusations against Richardson are to follow. There are four specific cases under investigation. In some instances the girls involved were but 14 and 15 years old. There are charges also that many young women were compelled to abandon their studies shortly after enrollment because of the demeanor of the preceptor.
Richardson came to Santa Rosa six years ago from Corpus Christi, Tex. For four years he has conducted the business college. He is far from attractive in personal appearance. He is untidy of dress and of irregular features. He is 45 years old and has a wife and family of growing children. He has been active in religious undertakings and has professed sympathy with the local good government league.
Richardson was placed in a cell tonight. He will make no attempt to obtain bail for the present, believing he is safer in jail than out.
- San Francisco Call, January 23, 1910
NOT SWEET'S SANTA ROSA BUSINESS COLLEGE
A San Francisco paper refers to F. C. Richardson, now under arrest here on a serious charge, as "President of the Santa Rosa Business College." This is not correct. The Santa Rosa Business College is conducted by James S. Sweet, former Mayor of the city, and one of the best known and most reliable men in this community and Richardson is not and never was associated with him or with that institution in any way.
Richardson ran a commercial class in a rented room on Fourth street. Sweet's Santa Rosa Business College owns its own three-story building on Ross street. It is a large and successful institution, and stands high in the estimation of the community.
Readers of The Press Democrat should not confuse the facts in this case. Richardson's commercial school and Sweet's Santa Rosa Business College are two separate and very distinct concerns.
- Press Democrat, February 1, 1910
RICHARDSON CASE IS NOW ON TRIALFormer Commercial School Teacher Faces a Jury on a Very Serious Charge
[12 men] were yesterday chosen in Judge Seawell's court as the jury to try the felony charge against F. C. Richardson, who formerly taught a commercial school in this city. Richardson was indicted by the Grand Jury on two counts. He is now being tried on a charge of furnishing medicine and drugs for the purpose of producing a miscarriage.
After the impannellment [sic] of the jury District Attorney Lea made an opening statement. Assistant District Attorney Hoyle is associate for the prosecution. William F. Cowan is the attorney for the defense.
The young woman who is the prosecuting witness took the witness stand and her testimony was damaging to Richardson. She admitted her yielding to the importunings of the defendant, and their illicit relations, the birth of the child, etc.
The witness' testimony presented a disgusting state of affairs. Her allegations more than hinted at Richardson's alleged depravity and cunning. She told of his avowed affections for her and of his having given her a ring (the ring being produced in court) and of his providing her with a veil so that her identity might not be revealed on the occasion of visits paid to secluded spots in the country, when opportunities in town, she said, had frequently availed. [sic]
The witness detailed that upon one occasion Richardson had told her that he could not marry her, but he would be willing to run away with her to a foreign country. She said further that he told her he had been familiar with other girls. The defendant's counsel objected to the latter evidence as he claimed it was offered to liken Richardson to "a moral monster" in the eyes of the jury.
Under cross-examination the witness' direct evidence was not shaken. She denied that she had ever received any money from Richardson. Twenty days before the child was born she admitted she wrote Richardson a postal card on which she had told him that she was waiting for money. She did this, she said, because he had promised to help her and had not done so.
Richardson's wife and four children occupied a front bench in the courtroom while the prosecuting witness was relating her story.
Under cross-examination the witness was asked questions touching upon her previous character. The case will be continued today.
- Press Democrat, May 18, 1910
ALL EVIDENCE IN; ARGUMENT BEGINSRichardson Case Will Go to the Jury Today--Both Sides Have Rested Case
The trial of F. C. Richardson, charged with furnishing medicine to a young woman for the purpose of producing a miscarriage, was resumed Wednesday before Judge Seawell and a jury.
A startling feature of the evidence adduced Wednesday was the introduction of portions of a statement made by Richardson to District Attorney Lea and taken down by Court Reporter Scott, in which statement Richardson admitted his intimacy, with the young woman who is the prosecuting witness in this case. The statement was taken after the arrest of Richardson. In it he admitted giving the young woman pills.
When court resumed on Wednesday morning the prosecuting witness was recalled by Attorney William F. Cowan, counsel for the defense, and her cross-examination was continued. She amplified certain evidence given on the previous day. An effort was made to bring out that her character had not been all that it possibly should have been.
Medical and expert testimony was also a feature of the day, evidence dealing with the nature of medicine alleged to have been procured for the prosecuting witness by the defendant.
Thomas Price, for over fifty years an analytical chemist of San Francisco and a frequent expert in the courts, was called on Wednesday afternoon, and testified as to an analysis he had made, at the request of the prosecution, of a box of pills. He detailed the result of his examination, and gave the ingredients.
Another medical witness was Dr. J. W. Jesse, who was asked a hypothetical question regarding the medicinal properties referred to by Analyst Price.
Other witnesses were called during the day by the prosecution, including the foster parents of the prosecuting witness.
Only portions of the statement made by Richardson were read in evidence, the part telling of his conquests with other girls being omitted as not connected with the case at bar. The statement in full covers many typewritten pages.
During court recesses Richardson joined his wife, and they sat chatting earnestly together. Their children, four small ones, were not brought into court by their mother as on the previous day of the trial. The little baby in the case was in court for a few moments Wednesday morning.
[..]
- Press Democrat, May 19, 1910
RICHARDSON CONVICTED BY THE JURY LAST EVENINGVerdict Returned After A Few Minutes' Deliberation
F. C. Richardson was on Thursday night found guilty in the Superior Court of the crime of furnishing medicine to a young woman for the purpose of committing an abortion. The young woman was a student at the commercial school of which he was principal. The maximum punishment for the offense is five years in the State's prison. Judgement will be pronounced by Superior Judge J. Q. White at nine o'clock next Monday morning. Judge White presided at the trial for Judge Seawell.
Five Minutes Deliberation
The verdict was returned into court after a few minutes deliberation on the part of the jury. At five minutes to nine at night the jury retired; twenty minutes later they were ready with their verdict of conviction.
Two Ballots Taken
As is customary with juries, the first ballot taken is usually to ascertain the feeling of the twelve men and before deliberation of the evidence ensues. The course was followed out in this case and on the first ballot there were eleven for conviction and one for acquittal.
Just as quick as fresh slips of paper could be passed around another ballot was taken, with the result that all twelve men voted for conviction.
Jurymen Cheer
Directly upon the taking of the ballot there was a cheer from the jury room, which could be heard echoing over the Court House. A few minutes later the electric bell connecting the juryroom on top of the Court House with the outside corridor rang boldly, and when Deputy Sheriff Reynolds answered the call and inquired whether the jury had agreed upon a verdict there was a lusty "yes" is response.
[..]
- Press Democrat, June 10, 1910
In 1910, you could have printed on a single sheet of paper the name of every person to have flown in an airplane. Engine-powered flying machines had evolved from the stuff of fantasy to reality in less than two short years (or so most of the public and press believed) and the "bird-men" that sailed through the air were rockstar famous. No community was as aviation crazy as Santa Rosa, in large part because of hometown daredevil Fred J. Wiseman, whose progress in building an aircraft from scratch, making his tentative flights and finally public exhibitions were events followed breathlessly by both of the town's newspapers. As noted in the introduction to this series, over forty articles about his doings appeared in that year alone. And so it came to be that Tom Gregory flew one morning with Fred Wiseman and thus entered the record books himself as the world's first terrified passenger.
"I had assured Wiseman that there was no limit to my nerve," Gregory wrote in his Press Democrat essay, "but when I saw him monkeying around the engine of his bi-plane, and I looked aloft and saw the emptiness of things up there, I begin to get skreeky."
It was an inspired choice by the PD to send Gregory aloft. He was an experienced reporter with a long career at the San Francisco newspapers where he was also often published as a featured poet. Tom was now settling in to his final career as scholar and historian, writing what still remains the best history of Sonoma County. And far from least, he was one of the funniest writers found anywhere. "'We are almost ready to go,' said Fred, doubtless thinking I was impatient to start. I wasn't. In fact, could have sat there and waited a week, or even longer."
After a detailed description of the aircraft, "[f]inally we stowed ourselves aboard, and amid the deafening crackle of the engine and the buzz of the propeller, we spun along on the bicycle-wheels for about thirty feet." And then Tom Gregory was flying. The entire article is about 1,300 words and transcribed below, all of it quite an enjoyable read. An excerpt:
How shall I describe it? Just as soon as the wheels left the ground we seemed to stand still, and every object around us and below us seemed to hurry past. There wasn't a bump or jar, though occasionally a swinging sensation when Wiseman tipped his plane the fraction of an inch--infinitesimal things count for much up in the air--and we were pulling higher against gravitation...I didn't do any talking or anything else except gasp and catch breath, but I noted that Wiseman was exceedingly busy. He would elevate and depress his altitude planes as we would strike a warmer body of air which would drop us--or a colder, which, being heavier, would buoy us up to a greater elevation. Of course we would fall first on one side and then the other, and Fred's shoulders woud work the tilting planes in his almost-agony to get her level again. Once when we went over until I almost quit breathing he attempted a jest by saying our starboard wing had passed over somebody's hot chimney...He picked a "soft place to fall on," and killed the engine, and in the silence which seemed doubly silent after the boom of the motor and propeller, we glided softly down; the wide planes parachuting us in safety, to the old earth. |
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| Fred J. Wiseman making a test flight at the ranch near Windsor where the aircraft was built, 1910. PHOTO: National Air and Space Museum |
Tom Gregory's essay has worth beyond its historical and entertainment values; it also provides unique insight into how people of the day actually saw these strange-looking machines that somehow flew. His essay might also help clarify an old dictionary mystery: The origin of the word, "airplane."
Before "airplane" there was the British name, "aeroplane," which appeared in print in 1873 as the name given to the flat wings of a glider invented seven years earlier. Even before that was "aéroplane," coined in 1855 by Frenchman Joseph Pline to describe a proposed gas-filled dirigible driven by propellers. Thus at about the same time, the English and French were using the same word to describe both a section of an aircraft and the whole thing itself.
The French name was supposedly derived from the verb planer, which means to glide or soar (the French adjective for a flat surface plane is plan, and it wasn't spelled "aéroplan"). But for reasons unclear, the venerable Oxford English Dictionary declared that the "plane" part of the name had nothing to do with flat surfaces or gliding, but instead came from the Greek verb planos, which means, "to wander." As the OED is considered Holy Writ by dictionary editors, this odd claim has been repeated in almost all English language dictionaries, much to the annoyance of some scholars (there's even a book on this topic).
The wordy dust over the meaning of "aeroplane" settled in 1906. That year near Paris Alberto Santos-Dumont made the first certified flight entirely under its own power, cementing the view of France as the leading country in aviation research. Scientific American also conceded that an aeroplane was the name for a flying vehicle and not just a part of it - although there was a bit of a scrum when it was proposed that the overall thing should be properly called an "aerodyne" instead.
All of this stumbling in etymological weeds is preface to explaining how revealing it was that Tom Gregory in his 1910 essay seemed to revert to the old British terminology in describe Wiseman's flying machine in terms of planes. There were the "side-planes" (wings) with "smaller planes called 'balancing tips'" ( called ailerons today), "elevating planes" and a "horizontal plane" (forward and rear elevators) and a "vertical plane" (rudder). Note that he only once used "wings" in a way descriptive.
Clearly, Gregory was parroting terminology he heard from Wiseman and his partners, which showed they were immersed in the latest technical literature about aviation, such as patent applications and engineering magazines; "balancing tips," for example, was a short-used term that only appeared between 1910 and 1912. But even more so it reveals Wiseman and others like him had no romantic notions that flying an aircraft required some kind of innate talent or was a simply taught skill like driving an auto. Wiseman viewed himself as the operator of a collection of interconnected planes, which modern pilots call "control surfaces" to be manipulated in the same manner.
Thus: "aeroplane" ("airplane" in the U.S. by 1911) is really a practical, descriptive noun. It's not a lyric reference to the manmade wings of Icarus that soar or glide or wander about in the sky; it is as functional and plain in meaning as "washing machine." It simply means a thing in the air that is controlled by moveable flat surfaces.
Yet even though Tom Gregory penned a remarkably precise description of the aeroplane of the day, he could not refrain from waxing poetic about the experience of flight. "It was startlingly exhilarating, it was gloriously joyful," Gregory concluded, "but I was scared every cubic foot of atmosphere we drove through. I am scared yet."
BI-PLANE RIDING AMONG THE BIRDSHow it Feels to Get Off the Earth With Only Empty Air or a Cloud Within Reach(By Tom Gregory)
"Now hold your nerve--guess you have enough for this, only keep it," said Aviator Fred Wiseman as he began to "crank-up" for our jump towards the clouds.
I had never been off the earth, but wanted to be--especially since April 18, 1906. It seems so easy to spread wings, flap, flap a little and up in the void. And it seems so safe, too. Most any kind of bird can fly. I have seen a buzzard go to sleep with wings aspread and not even a wisp of fog to hold him up. I had assured Wiseman that there was no limit to my nerve, but when I saw him monkeying around the engine of his bi-plane, and I looked aloft and saw the emptiness of things up there, I begin to get skreeky. Ah aeroplane, bi-plane, fly-plane, or whatever class of plane you may choose to call it, is not as safe as a flat-car; nor does it possess the longevity of an ox-wagon. There is a delicacy about its make-up. You are trusting your precious self to a couple of wings of India grass cloth, 32 feet long and 5 feet wide, hung on piano wire. It is true the cloth and wire are the lightest and strongest that can be procured, but they didn't appear quite strong enough for this sky-stunt. While Fred was going over things in the matter-of-fact way of all machine-people, I was going over it in the way of a person who would like to be somewhere else.
Besides the two great planes which cut into the atmosphere at an upward angle calculated to overcome the downward pull of the earth--you know the old globe hates to let us go--there are stuck far out ahead smaller planes of the India grass, called elevating planes. Back in the rear are the steering or vertical planes, and attached to these is another horizontal plane which also assists in the elevation of the airship. On the great side-planes are smaller planes called "balancing tips," and I assure you they are the only things that may be said to stand between the flyer and his own funeral. In fact, during about every second he is a-wing his vehicle is trying its level best--or unlevel best--to capsize. The space is full of probably millions of air impulses or currents, plunging and twisting in all directions, and the fly-man doesn't find them till he is right among them and he feels himself tilting downward. His hands are full, gripping the steering wheel and elevating planes; his feet are full, working his motor-power; his head is full, wondering how hard he will hit the planet revolving below him, and every cubic foot of the air around him seems full of things unstable and intangible. Attached to his shoulders are the levers of the balancing-tips, and by heaving his body from side to side he works these life-savers, possibly in time to get back to an even keel before he is under the wreck on the ground beneath. Oh! the flying-machine man is a busy man when he is setting a pace for the birds.
"We are almost ready to go," said Fred, doubtless thinking I was impatient to start. I wasn't. In fact, could have sat there and waited a week, or even longer. Then he turned loose his motor and the 7-foot-6-inch propeller began to hum. Its pitch is such that with its 1800 revolutions each minute the whirling thing was soon driving a fifty-mile gale to the rear of the machine. But we were not off. Wiseman was only trying out his power, trying his engine, trying my nerves--trying everything in reach of his hand. M. Peters, his partners, was trying the tension of the oil-tempered wires, the steering-control, the working of the planes. In fact, everybody present was taking no risk, but was trying something. I was trying to get my courage up.
"It is well to be careful," explained Wiseman. "We may not have another opportunity." Finally we stowed ourselves aboard, and amid the deafening crackle of the engine and the buzz of the propeller, we spun along on the bicycle-wheels for about thirty feet. Fred slightly tipped the elevating planes, and we were off--the earth, with all the drive of the 75-horsepower engine.
How shall I describe it? Just as soon as the wheels left the ground we seemed to stand still, and every object around us and below us seemed to hurry past. There wasn't a bump or jar, though occasionally a swinging sensation when Wiseman tipped his plane the fraction of an inch--infinitesimal things count for much up in the air--and we were pulling higher against gravitation. It was a calm day, no wind except our motion and the movement of the air as our propeller caught and dragged it to the rear. Atmosphere at the earth surface weighs 15 pounds to every square inch it presses upon, and this solid body offers not only something for the planes to rest on but the same something for the flying propeller to grapple. Yet a wrecked aeroplane can fall through it with the greatest of ease. Frequently the spruce frames of the planes in the tremendous strain would crack loudly, but they are "laminated," each timber put together in thin layers, pressed and glued in a solid stick making it additionally strong with as little weight as possible. The propeller is of the same construction. There was a strong pressure on the cloth of the planes showing that they were "lifting" for all that was in them and giving us a fly for our money.
I didn't do any talking or anything else except gasp and catch breath, but I noted that Wiseman was exceedingly busy. He would elevate and depress his altitude planes as we would strike a warmer body of air which would drop us--or a colder, which, being heavier, would buoy us up to a greater elevation. Of course we would fall first on one side and then the other, and Fred's shoulders would work the tilting planes in his almost-agony to get her level again. Once when we went over until I almost quit breathing he attempted a jest by saying our starboard wing had passed over somebody's hot chimney. We didn't try any Icarian flights, so didn't get high enough to have "the sun melt the wax on our wings," as it did the old Greek aviators. We were not breaking records or necks, and the Sonoma birds may have the speed prize. Our whirl around the turn was made in a graceful curve, fluttering the leaves on a gum tree we drove dangerously near but escaped by Wiseman's slapping his rudder-plane hard-a-port. He picked a "soft place to fall on," and killed the engine, and in the silence which seemed doubly silent after the boom of the motor and propeller, we glided softly down; the wide planes parachuting us in safety, to the old earth.
It was startlingly exhilarating, it was gloriously joyful, but I was scared every cubic foot of atmosphere we drove through. I am scared yet.
Today Messrs. Wiseman and Peters, the builders and owners of the successful bi-plane, which has been exhibited during the Carnival in this city, will make exhibition flights at the race track, and the public will have an opportunity to see the airship in its native element.
- Press Democrat, May 8, 1910