Alpena weekly argus. [volume] (Alpena, Mich.) 1871-1893, 1883-04-18
"reminiscences OF a California Mining
Camp.

Isuppose that Hawkins Bar, on the
Toulumne River must now be over
grown with brush and chapparral
When first ''struek it," in 1858 IL was
on its last legs. Still IL boosted store
were still anchored i'm the bed of tho
river Expensive river claims were
then being worked from Red Mountain
down TO French Bar. But q premature
rain and consequent freshet swept the
river that season from end to end with
the Bosom of destruction, and sent for
the winter the miners back TO their two
dollars per day bank diggings. And
from that time henceforward the Bar
steadily declined. The store was kept
open for two seasons after the loss of
its proprietor. He was new man.
When he came TO the Bar the "boys"
held consultation on big drift log.
They concluded they could go through
him in one season. providing he gave
credit. But he was discriminating
man as regarded giving credit. So it
required two seasons to get through
him. Then he moved away forever,
and with tears in his eyes at his losses.
The Bar fingered on for several years.
Steadily it lessened in houses and pop
ulation. The store was torn down and
the lumber carted away. In 1864 l
made a pilgrimage thither and found
remaining one house and one man.
That man was Smith, Alex. Smith,
49er, Baltimorean and soldier dur
ing the Mexican war. Smiths house
was high up on the hillside and his
back yard brought up against the camp
graveyard. A score of Smiths old
companions there lay buried. And here
this man lived alone with the dead and
the memories or the last eighteen years
/ said to him: "Smith, how do you
stand it hereP Do you not get lone
someP''
"Well. yes; once in while do" re-
piled Smith. ''but When l feel that way
l 60 up the hill and bring down q log
for firewood."
Smith was philosopher, and knew
that the best remedy for melancholy is
physical exertion.
Smith was one of the first settlers at
Hawkins Bar; Smith could remember
when it contained a voting population
of nearly eight hundred souls Smith
knew every point OH the river which
had yielded richly Smith could show
you Gawley's Point, where Gawley
pitched his tent in 40 and buried under
it his pickle jars full of gold dust. The
tradition of Hawkins was that Gawley
used to keep barrel of whisky on free
tap in his tent. And that in the fall
of 1850 Gawley, warned by the expe-
rience of the previous rainy season,
determined to lay in winters stock
of provisions. But Gawley's ideas as
to the proper quantities of food were
vague. He had never before been a
purveyor or provider on larger scale
than that of buying a weeks grub
at the Bar store. He went to the
snake out your order" said the mer-
chant. Gawley gave it to him verb
ally. Il guess" said he, "Pll have
sack of flour. ten. pounds of bacon, ten
pounds of sugar, five of coffee, three of
tea, apeck of beans, a bag of salt, and
and-a barrel of whisky ~
In 1870 | made another pilgrimage
to Hawkins Bar. Smith was gone.
Nobody lived there. The fence of the
camp graveyard was broken down.
The wooden head-boards were lying
prone to the earth. Some were split in
two, and most of the inscriptions were
being rapidly erased through the action
of the sun and rain. But one house was
standing. 1t was the cabin wherein
had lived one Morgan Davis, the former
custodian of the Hawkins Bar library.
For as early as 1854 or So the Haw.
L. L.:
funds, sent down to San Francisco and
brary. 1t was good solid library, too,
based on full set of American Ency.
clopedias and Humboldt and Lyell, and
from such and the like dispensers of
heavy and nutritious mental food,
rising in to the lighter desserts of poetry
and novels. AS late as 1858 the ''boys'
were in the habit of resplenishing their
library with the latest published scien-
tilic works, novels and magazines.
But in 10, on my last visit, the H.
brary was gone. Morgan was dead.
His cabin door had fallen from its
hinges a young oak tree had sprung
up and blocked the entrance. The
flooring had been torn up. The win.
dow sashes had been taken out. A
dinner-pot and broken stove were all
that remained of Morgan's cooking
utensils. Some Of the roofing had dis
appeared 1t was a ghostly place. The
trails leading to and from the Bar were
fading out. Here, they were over
grown with brush, There, the river in
some higher rise had swept away the
lower bank and left naught but con-
fusion of rough rock over which was no
semblance of track. 1t was at Haw-
kins that l had first "buckled to the
mines" My first "buckling," how
ever, was in the capacity of meat
peddler. 1 became the agent of q firm
of butchers up on the mountain for dis
tributing their tough steaks to the
Hawkins Bar miners. Through the
of horse, over whose
back was slung n couple of huge pan
niers, l continued the agency for a
week. Then one morning the horse
kicked up his heels and ran away. AS
he ran, at every kick raw aud bloody
steak would fly out of the boxes, flash
in the brilliant morning sunshine, and
then fall in the fine red dust of the
mountain trail. followed hard after,
RttucTluR up tncSc SbedhS us tHcy lcll,
and when the burden became too heavy
/ piled them up by the roadside in little
heaps of dusty, very dusty meat AT
last, dusty, perspiring and distressed
beyond measure, managed to catch
that villainous horse. For he, after
having elected nearly the whole load
Of meat, concluded to stop and be
caught. l loaded the panniers again
with the dusty carniverous deposits,
led the horse down the steep trail TO
the river, then muddy and of rich
coffee color from the up.country min
ing sediment. Herein l washed my
steaks, rinsed them as well as could
of dust, and, as was then the custom,
hung up piece after piece in the gauze,
curtaincd meat-safes at the miners
cabins. l think Hawkins got its share
of grit that day in its beef. Shortly
aftcrward went out of the beefsteak
bureau. Milford,
=.