This reissue of the No. 2 will never be as valuable as an original. The clock movement is not as finished as the original Seth Thomas clocks of the 1800s. For instance, the new number 61 movement does not have lantern pinions; it uses a one-piece pinion arbor. The oak wood is nice, but nothing like an original clock case in mahogany. It does perform all the functions of the original, which is to keep accurate time while being easily read from a distance.
Posts I have written about local and regional history, people, places, documents, maps, Sacramento, Placer, and California.
The Sacramento Bee remained defiant. They discerned, “If that be the law of the State, then no newspaper will hereafter feel safe in recording the facts connected with any man’s arrest until after he has been convicted.” They concluded, “If Mr. C. H. Gilman is banking on getting $500, or any other sum, from this paper, he had better postpone his hilarity until he hears from the Supreme Court, for certainly The Bee does not propose to permit this matter to rest here. The fight has only commenced.”
The one line of business Amos did try to explain was his investment in a steam engine for a saw mill. He thought the saw mill would produce him the most income, and he was proud of his investment. “The engine belongs to me, a beautiful 12 horse locomotive which cost me $3,000.” He then goes on to loosely explain the business arrangement and business proposition. We also learn that he was the main salesman for the operation.
By today’s standards, it seems absolutely crazy that anyone would invest money in property or infrastructure when there was no clear title to the land and the State of California continually threatened to strip Folsom of his ownership of the Leidesdorff estate. But this was the state of California in the 1850s. Even before the untimely death of Folsom, he and other men were pushing forward with their development plans in Sacramento County. Folsom had been working with the Sacramento Valley Railroad to run a line from Sacramento to Negro Bar on the south side of the American River over the Leidesdorff land grant.
The regional newspapers started to sniff that the politics were changing and that there was a desire to vacate Benicia. The Stockton newspapers were advocating that the capital be located in Stockton. Senator Crabb presented a proposal offering the Stockton Court House, plus, the city would pay for the move. Crabb argued that the climate was the same as Sacramento, had river access, and as a bonus, also hosted the State’s Insane Asylum, where legislators could take a brief respite from their hallucinations of grandeur.
After the battle to save the railroad was lost, Auburn went dormant. The town’s pride and pocket book had taken a severe beating. The only way to get out from underneath the $50,000 bond obligation was to dissolve the city. In 1868, Assembly bill 760, An Act to repeal an Act to incorporate the town of Auburn, was passed by both houses of the legislature.
The experience of Black Americans and their contributions had been mere footnotes or commas in the printed saga of California of the 19th century. The visible traces of Black Americans of the Gold Rush are the names of places such as Negro Bar, Negro Hill, and the Negro Hill Ditch. Both Negro Hill and the ditch only exist on maps as Folsom Lake now covers both. Similarly, Negro Bar only partially remains above the high water of Lake Natoma.
Perhaps that was a necessity, although it does not seem to me to be so, because no solid or fecal matter is discharged into these sewers, or these drains which we call sewers. The city authorities have strictly adhered to the policy, if it is a policy, of having all the matter sink into the soil upon which the city is built, to saturate it, permeate it, and fester there and breed disease. And a city having a system of sewers like that comes into Court here in the name of the People of the State and complains that we have destroyed its sewerage system. Well, such a sewerage system as that ought to be destroyed. It never ought to be allowed to exist.
Rosalie lay bleeding to death. A thick pool of blood had gathered around her body from all of the cuts she had suffered earlier. Francois requested the men present to pick her up and place her on the lounge. Shortly thereafter, Dr. Rhodes who had been sent for, arrived to dress the wounds. The loss of blood was too great. Rosalie Remi Lamblet died on August 16, 1879.
Some, possessed with the spirit of humor, displayed it like Nero fiddling over the ruins. One refugee in Jefferson Park had his tent labeled: “Well Shook,” and the next one to it was “Shook Well.” A curb-stone kitchen had the sign “The Outside Inn,” and it looked it. A piano wagon bore these words: “Played by many; the last time by a fireman.” “We moved because the elevator stopped running,” was a notice placed on a pile of bricks. “Earthquake Shakes” was the sign above a street stand. “Quakers and Shakers Welcome” was displayed over the door of a restaurant instead of before a gospel meeting room.