Riches to Rags: the Men Who Found Gold

1849 Ad for ship to California Gold Rush

Anyone who has ever studied history of the United States will associate the words, ‘Sutter’s Mill,’   in connection with the California Gold Rush of 1849.   They may know John Sutter as owner of that mill, and they may even know that it was James W. Marshall, Sutter’s foreman at the mill, who made the actual discovery of gold. After that, most history books go off into the gold rush itself, and its effect on the expansion of the United States, and the development of California in particular. Sutter and Marshall, now as then, get pushed aside.   And the truth of the matter is the men who went into the history books, who really made money out of the gold rush, were the merchants who supplied the 49ers—men like Leland Stanford, Mark Hopkins, and Levi Strauss. Sutter and Marshall just got trampled on…

     John Sutter, a German Swiss immigrant, had made money in trade and received a large land grant from the Mexican government, who had possession of California at the time. Making a deal with the disbanding Russian colony at Fort Ross, Sutter obtained various livestock and implements, and built his own fort called New Helvetia.   With dreams of starting an agrarian community, he employed a decommissioned battalion of Mormons, who had come to California with the army of General Kearny.

Add James W. Marshall at Sutter's Mill, 1850,
from a daguerrotype by R.H. Vance

He set them to work building a sawmill on the south fork of the American River under the management of his foreman, James W. Marshall, to whom he purportedly gave a half-interest in the mill.

On 24^th January, 1848, Marshall discovered what he believed to be gold. Being a good partner and faithful employee, he showed the metal to Sutter, the men ran tests, and they ascertained that the metal was, indeed, gold. Shortly after, on 2 February, 1848, the United States and Mexico signed the Treaty of Guadalupe Hidalgo, thereby bringing the Mexican American War to an end, giving the U.S. half of all Mexican territories including, of course, California-- and eventually ruining the two men’s lives.

Although Sutter obtained promises from his Mormon workforce to keep the gold a secret, it wasn’t long before they discovered they could make more money mining the gold than the wages Sutter was paying them. Naturally, rumors spread and, despite the spread being rather slow in those pre-telecommunication days, and the rumors somewhat enhanced with the telling, the California Gold Rush had begun.

Anglo and Chinese miners circa 1852. Daguerrotype by J. B. Starkweather

Forty per cent of enlisted men in California deserted, two-thirds of homes in San Francisco stood empty, and John Sutter’s land was invaded.   And this is where the history books veer off into American expansionism, fortunes won and lost, wagon trains heading across the great plains, and possibly even the building of the Panama Canal—or at least the building of the Panama Railway, which preceded it. But what happened to Sutter and Marshall?

     Sutter’s agrarian community was decimated by the influx of miners, who killed his livestock for food and stole everything in sight. When he appealed to the courts for restoration of his land, the title was declared invalid because it was a Mexican land grant. Three years later, in debt, Sutter retired to his Hock Farm and deeded the remains of his land grant to his son (who would subsequently initiate the building of Sacramento). He did eventually receive a stipend of $250 a month for the taxes he had paid, and moved to the Moravian community in Pennsylvania. He continued to petition the United States government for fifteen years; in fact, two days before his death, Congress adjourned without action on yet another bill that would have given him reparation.

     

James W. Marshall

As for Marshall, who actually discovered the gold, he, too, had his land claim overrun and his belongings stolen. He, too, sought restitution through the courts to no avail and ended up with just the clothes he stood up in. Joining the hordes looking for gold, crowds would surround him when he would try to find another lode because they believed he had powers of divination. This apparently went on for some seven years until he returned to the small town near his lost mill and earned money by doing odd jobs. Eventually, he was able to own land again and started growing grapes, but such a high tax was levied on the resulting wine that he went bankrupt. In 1871, Marshall started a lecture tour, which eventually took him to Salt Lake City. There, Brigham Young declared he was a liar because it was in the Church records that Mormons had discovered the gold… The California State legislature did, in time, give him a small pension, which they discontinued two years later due to his drinking. Marshall lived until 1885, existing by woodworking and carpentry.

     Of course, as the Present has a way of making cack-handed amends for the Past, the Society of California Pioneers and the Native Sons of the Golden West buried Marshall on a hill overlooking the original site of Sutter’s Mill. They spent a great deal of money for a monument to the man no one supported in life, and now pay a salary to a caretaker for this important site. And Sutter? Over the years, various streets, schools and other geographic places—as well as a rose—have been named after him. And California rebuilt his vandalized fort for the tourists—and maintain it, no doubt, at great cost.

Main source: Brown, Dee: The Westerners, London, 1974

All photos are public domain

Originally published Sept., 2014, at http://andreadowning.com

Mackenzie’s Raiders

Does that title ring any bells for you western fans? It’s the name of a TV series starring Richard Carlson that ran for one season – 39 episodes – in 1958-59. I’m sure my dad watched it.

Each episode opened like this: “From the archives of the United States Cavalry, the true story of Colonel Ranald Mackenzie and the Cavalrymen he led—‘Mackenzie’s Raiders.’ His secret orders from the President of the United States—clean up the Southwest…make it a fit place for Americans to live…wipe out the renegades, outlaws and murderers. If necessary, cross the Rio Grande, knowing capture means hanging by the enemy…discovery, court martial by the United States Army.

The series was based upon the exploits of Colonel Ranald Slidell Mackenzie. A young lieutenant fresh out of West Point in 1862, when he entered service in the Civil War, he proved himself a brave, able soldier. Wounded six times, he quickly climbed the ranks to brevetted major general by war’s end. Soon after the war, he was transferred to the frontier, where he eventually  commanded the 4th Cavalry Regiment for twelve years. The 4th was based part of the time at Fort Clark in south Texas, and part of the time at Fort Sill on the Kiowa-Comanche-Apache Reservation, in Indian Territory (Oklahoma).

Handed a job many men had failed at, Col. Mackenzie did more to tame the southwestern frontier than perhaps any other military commander. While headquartered at Fort Clark, he led those not so secretive raids into Mexico after bandits and raiding Indians, putting an end to a problem that had plagued Texans for decades.

Although Texans had fought and won their independence in 1836, Mexico never recognized Texas as a separate nation, instead considering it to be a province in rebellion. Incursions by Mexican troops and bandits were frequent along the southern border. Then the United States admitted Texas to the union in 1845, setting off the Mexican War. The lopsided conflict lasted a year and a half, from spring 1846 to fall 1847, ending in Mexico’s defeat.

The Treaty of Guadalupe Hidalgo, signed in February 1848, was a monumental event in the history of the West. In one fell swoop, Mexico ceded to the U.S. all land north of the Rio Grande River. This huge chunk of territory included what are now the states of Arizona, New Mexico, Colorado, Utah, California and Nevada. The treaty also put to rest, once and for all, Mexico’s claim to Texas. However, it didn’t stop raids by Mexican bandits and Indians determined to drive out the white intruders.

The Comanche, Kiowa, Apache and Southern Cheyenne Indians had ruled the southern plains for centuries, often fighting among themselves and raiding Mexican settlements in Texas, New Mexico and Mexico. With the coming of American settlers, who pushed farther and farther into the Indians’ domain, their raids became ever more frequent and bloody. Attempts to stop them by the daring, unconventional Texas Rangers found limited success, but when federal troops, largely infantry, were pitted against mounted warriors – the greatest horsemen on the continent -- it was a dismal failure. Finally learning a hard lesson, the Army assigned cavalry units to the daunting task.

Key to the campaign was Col. Ranald Mackenzie. He adopted the Indians’ own methods, tracking them to their strongholds and ruthlessly destroying their way of life. This was no gallant knight, but a man intent on bringing peace to the frontier. Called the “Fighting Colonel” and once described by Ulysses S. Grant as “the most promising young officer in the Army,” Mackenzie accomplished his goal. As commander at Fort Sill, he oversaw the surrender of the last free Comanche band, the Quahadi, led by their great war chief, Quanah Parker.

Tragically, Ranald Mackenzie met a sad end. In late 1883, he suffered a mental breakdown and was declared unfit for duty. He never recovered, dying in 1889.

Book excerpt: Col. Mackenzie appears twice in Dearest Druid (Texas Druids, Book 3 -- still under construction.) In this scene, the main characters, Rose and Jack, have arrived at Fort Sill and are just meeting Mackenzie.

Slim and middling tall, the youngish looking man was far from imposing, but Jack knew him to be a ruthless Indian fighter. He’d defeated the Comanche, Kiowa and Southern Cheyenne in what whites called the Battle of Palo Duro Canyon, burning lodges and winter food supplies and ordering more than a thousand Indian ponies shot. Left afoot and starving, the tribes had been forced onto reservations.

The commander nodded at Jack and gave Rose a smile. “Col. Ranald Mackenzie, ma’am. May I ask your name?”

“Aye. ’Tis Rose, Rose Devlin, sir,” she said, nervously fiddling with her shirt collar.

“I’m pleased to meet you, Miss Devlin. I understand you need my assistance.”

“Aye, sir, we must go to Jack’s mother. She’s very ill and perhaps I can help her, but I won’t know until we get there, and –”

“Whoa, slow down,” Mackenzie said, holding up his good hand, keeping the other with its two missing fingers – the reason Indians called him “Bad Hand” – behind his back. He aimed a piercing look at Jack. “What’s this about your mother, LaFarge?”

“I got word a few days ago that she’s near death.”

“Sorry to hear that, but I suspect I’d rather not know how you found out.” When Jack didn’t respond – he wasn’t about to admit Tsoia had jumped the reservation to bring him the bad news – Mackenzie turned to Rose again. “May I ask why you think you can save the woman, Miss Devlin?”

“I-I’m not a’tall sure I can, but I’m a healer, ye see. So when Jack, uh, Mr. LaFarge asked if I might help his mother, I . . . agreed to try.”

Jack hid his amazement behind a blank stare. His captive had just told an outright lie for his sake. No, for his mother’s sake, he corrected himself.

“You mean you’re a physician?” the Colonel asked, sandy brows knitting.

“No, but I’ve knowledge of herbs and such. ’Tis a skill passed down through my family.”

“Ah, I see.” Mackenzie turned to Jack. “I take it you want my permission to escort Miss Devlin to your mother’s lodge, is that right?”

Jack nodded once. “I figure a paper from you ought to prevent trouble.”

“Mmm.” Crossing his arms, Mackenzie paced slowly back and forth in front of his desk, thinking. After a moment, he stopped to face Rose. “Ma’am, are you sure you wish to do this? You could be putting your life at risk.”

Briefly meeting Jack’s gaze, she lifted her chin. “I’m sure, Colonel. Mr. LaFarge has protected me from danger several times. I trust him to keep me safe on the reservation as well.”

She trusted him to protect her. Glad as he was to hear that, Jack knew she did not, in fact, trust him completely. Along with the flash of longing in her eyes last night, he’d read fear. What lay behind it, he didn’t know, but he vowed to find out.

Sources:
Ranald S. Mackenzie on the Texas Frontier by Ernest Wallace
Empire of The summer Moon by S.C. Gwynne
Western Clippings: Do You Remember? by Boyd Magers