<h2>CHAPTER XXIV<br/> H. NEWMARK & CO.—CARLISLE-KING DUEL<br/> 1865-1866</h2>
<p>From 1862 I continued for three years, as I have told, in
the commission business; and notwithstanding the bad
seasons, I was thus pursuing a sufficiently easy and
pleasant existence when a remark which, after the lapse of
time, I see may have been carelessly dropped, inspired me with
the determination to enter again upon a more strenuous and
confining life.</p>
<p>On Friday, June 18th, 1865, I was seated in my little office,
when a Los Angeles merchant named David Solomon, whose
store was in the Arcadia Block, called upon me and, with
much feeling, related that while returning by steamer from
the North, Prudent Beaudry had made the senseless boast
that he would drive every Jew in Los Angeles out of business.
Beaudry, then a man of large means, conducted in his one-story
adobe building on the northeast corner of Aliso and Los
Angeles streets the largest general merchandise establishment
this side of San Francisco. I listened to Solomon's recital
without giving expression to my immediately-formed resolve;
but no sooner had he left than I closed my office and started
for Wilmington.</p>
<div class="figcenter"><SPAN name="i_406a" id="i_406a"></SPAN> <ANTIMG src="images/i_406a.jpg" width-obs="324" height-obs="425" alt="" /> <p class="caption">Kaspare Cohn</p> </div>
<div class="figcenter"><SPAN name="i_406b" id="i_406b"></SPAN> <ANTIMG src="images/i_406b.jpg" width-obs="302" height-obs="405" alt="" /> <p class="caption">M. A. Newmark</p> </div>
<div class="figcenter"><SPAN name="i_407a" id="i_407a"></SPAN> <ANTIMG src="images/i_407a.jpg" width-obs="458" height-obs="247" alt="" /> <p class="caption">H. Newmark & Co.'s Store, Arcadia Block, about 1875, Including (left) John Jones's Former Premises</p> </div>
<div class="figcenter"><SPAN name="i_407b" id="i_407b"></SPAN> <ANTIMG src="images/i_407b.jpg" width-obs="435" height-obs="283" alt="" /> <p class="caption">H. Newmark & Co.'s Building, Amestoy Block, about 1884</p> </div>
<p>During the twelve years that I had been in California the
forwarding business between Los Angeles and the Coast had
seen many changes. Tomlinson & Company, who had bought
out A. W. Timms, controlled the largest tonnage in town,
including that of Beaudry, Jones, Childs and others; while
<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_343" id="Page_343">343</SPAN></span>
Banning & Company, although actively engaged in the transportation
to Yuma of freight and supplies for the United States
Government, were handicapped for lack of business into Los
Angeles. I thought, therefore, that Phineas Banning would
eagerly seize an opportunity to pay his score to the numerous
local merchants who had treated him with so little consideration.
Besides, a very close intimacy existed between him and
myself, which may best be illustrated by the fact that, for years
past when short of cash, Banning used to come to my old
sheet-iron safe and help himself according to his requirements.</p>
<p>Arriving in Wilmington, I found Banning loading a lot of
teams with lumber. I related the substance of Solomon's
remarks and proposed a secret partnership, with the understanding
that, providing he would release me from the then
existing charge of seven dollars and a half per ton for hauling
freight from Wilmington to Los Angeles, I should supply the
necessary capital, purchase a stock of goods, conduct the business
without cost to him and then divide the profits if any
should accrue. Banning said, "I must first consult Don
David," meaning Alexander, his partner, promising at the
same time to report the result within a few days. While I
was at dinner, therefore, on the following Sunday, Patrick
Downey, Banning's Los Angeles agent, called on me and stated
that "the Chief" was in his office in the Downey Block, on
the site of Temple's old adobe, and would be glad to see me.</p>
<p>Without further parleying, Banning accepted my proposition;
and on the following morning, or June 21st, I rented
the last vacant store in Stearns's Arcadia Block on Los Angeles
Street, which stands to-day, by the way, much as it was erected
in 1858. It adjoined John Jones's, and was nearly opposite the
establishment of P. Beaudry. There I put up the sign of H.
Newmark, soon to be changed to H. Newmark & Company;
and it is a source of no little gratification to me that from this
small beginning has developed the wholesale grocery firm of
M. A. Newmark & Company.<SPAN name="FNanchor_26" id="FNanchor_26" href="#Footnote_26" class="fnanchor">[26]</SPAN></p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_344" id="Page_344">344</SPAN></span></p>
<p>At that time, Stearns's property was all in the hands of the
Sheriff, Tomás Sanchez, who had also been appointed Receiver;
and like all the other tenants, I rented my storeroom from
Deputy A. J. King. Rents and other incomes were paid to
the Receiver, and out of them a regular monthly allowance of
fifty dollars was made to Stearns for his private expenses. The
stock on Stearns's ranches, by the way, was then in charge of
Pierre Domec, a well-known and prosperous man, who was here
perhaps a decade before I came.</p>
<p>My only assistant was my wide-awake nephew, M. A.
Newmark, then fifteen years of age, who had arrived in Los
Angeles early in 1865. At my request Banning & Company
released their bookkeeper, Frank Lecouvreur, and I engaged
him. He was a thoroughly reliable man and had, besides, a
technical knowledge of wagon materials, in which, as a sideline,
I expected to specialize. While all of these arrangements
were being completed, the local business world queried and
buzzed as to my intentions.</p>
<p>Having rented quarters, I immediately telegraphed my
brother, J. P. Newmark, to buy and ship a quantity of flour,
sugar, potatoes, salt and other heavy staples; and these I sold,
upon arrival, at cost and steamer freight plus seven dollars
and a half per ton. Since the departure of my brother from
Los Angeles for permanent residence in San Francisco (where
he entered into partnership with Isaac Lightner, forming J. P.
Newmark & Company), he had been engaged in the commission
business; and this afforded me facilities I might
<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_345" id="Page_345">345</SPAN></span>
otherwise not have had. Inasmuch also, as all of my neighbors
were obliged to pay this toll for hauling, while I was
not, they were forced to do business at cost. About the
first of July, I went to San Francisco and laid in a complete
stock paralleling, with the exception of clothing and dry goods,
the lines handled by Beaudry. Banning, who was then building
prairie schooners for which he had ordered some three
hundred and fifty tons of iron and other wagon materials,
joined me in chartering the brig <i>Tanner</i> on which I loaded
an equal tonnage of general merchandise, wagon parts and
blacksmith coal. The very important trade with Salt Lake
City, elsewhere described, helped us greatly, for we at once
negotiated with the Mormon leaders; and giving them credit
when they were short of funds, it was not long before we were
brought into constant communication with Brigham Young and
through his influence monopolized the Salt Lake business.</p>
<p>Thinking over these days of our dealings with the Latterday
Saints, I recall a very amusing experience with an apostle
named Crosby, who once brought down a number of teams and
wagons to load with supplies. During his visit to town, I
invited him and several of his friends to dinner; and in answer
to the commonplace inquiry as to his preference for some particular
part of a dish, Crosby made the logical Mormonite reply
that <i>quantity</i> was what appealed to him most—a flash of wit
much appreciated by all of the guests. During this same visit,
Crosby tried hard to convert me to Mormonism; but, after
several ineffectual interviews, he abandoned me as a hopeless
case.</p>
<p>At another time, while reflecting on my first years as a
wholesale grocer, I was led to examine a day-book of 1867 and
to draw a comparison between the prices then current and now,
when the high cost of living is so much discussed. Raw sugar
sold at fourteen cents; starch at sixteen; crushed sugar at
seventeen; ordinary tea at sixty; coal oil at sixty-five cents a
gallon; axle-grease at seventy-five cents per tin; bluing at one
dollar a pound; and wrapping paper at one dollar and a half
per ream. Spices, not yet sold in cans, cost three dollars for a
<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_346" id="Page_346">346</SPAN></span>
dozen bottles; yeast powders, now superseded by baking
powder, commanded the same price per dozen; twenty-five
pounds of shot in a bag cost three dollars and a half; while in
October of that year, blacksmith coal, shipped in casks holding
fifteen hundred and ninety-two pounds each, sold at the rate
of fifty dollars a ton.</p>
<p>The steamers <i>Oriflamme</i>, <i>California</i>, <i>Pacific</i> and <i>Sierra
Nevada</i> commenced to run in 1866 and continued until about
the middle of the seventies. The <i>Pacific</i> was later sunk in the
Straits of San Juan de Fuca; and the <i>Sierra Nevada</i> was lost
on the rocks off Port Harford. The <i>Los Angeles</i>, the <i>Ventura</i>
and the <i>Constantine</i> were steamers of a somewhat later date,
seldom going farther south than San Pedro and continuing
to run until they were lost.</p>
<p>To resume the suggestive story of I. W. Hellman, who
remained in business with his cousin until he was able in 1865
to buy out Adolph Portugal and embark for himself, at the
corner of Main and Commercial streets: during his association
with large landowners and men of affairs, who esteemed
him for his practicality, he was fortunate in securing their
confidence and patronage; and being asked so often to operate
for them in financial matters, he laid the foundation for
his subsequent career as a banker, in which he has attained such
success.</p>
<p>The Pioneer Oil Company had been organized about the
first of February, with Phineas Banning, President; P. Downey,
Secretary; Charles Ducommon, Treasurer; and Winfield S.
Hancock, Dr. John S. Griffin, Dr. J. B. Winston, M. Keller,
B. D. Wilson, J. G. Downey and Volney E. Howard among the
trustees; and the company soon acquired title to all <i>brea</i>, petroleum
or rock oil in San Pasqual <i>rancho</i>. In the early summer,
Sackett & Morgan, on Main Street near the Post Office,
exhibited some local kerosene or "coal-oil;" and experimenters
were gathering the oil that floated on Pico Spring and refining
it, without distillation, at a cost of ten cents a gallon. Coming
just when Major Stroble announced progress in boring at la
Cañada de Brea, these ventures increased here the excitement
<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_347" id="Page_347">347</SPAN></span>
about oil and soon after wells were sunk in the Camulos
<i>rancho</i>.</p>
<p>On Wednesday afternoon, July 5th, at four o'clock, occurred
one of the pleasant social occasions of the mid-sixties—the
wedding of Solomon Lazard and Miss Caroline, third daughter
of Joseph Newmark. The bride's father performed the ceremony
at M. Kremer's residence on Main Street, near my own
adobe and the site on which, later, C. E. Thom built his charming
residence, with its rural attractions, diagonally across from
the pleasant grounds of Colonel J. G. Howard. The same evening
at half-past eight a ball and dinner at the Bella Union celebrated
the event.</p>
<p>While these festivities were taking place, a quarrel, ending
in a tragedy, began in the hotel office below. Robert Carlisle,
who had married Francisca, daughter of Colonel Isaac Williams,
and was the owner of some forty-six thousand acres
comprising the Chino Ranch, fell into an altercation with A. J.
King, then Under Sheriff, over the outcome of a murder trial; but
before any further damage was done, friends separated them.</p>
<p>About noon on the following day, however, when people
were getting ready to leave for the steamer and everything was
life and bustle about the hotel, Frank and Houston King,
the Under Sheriff's brothers, passing by the bar-room of the
Bella Union and seeing Carlisle inside, entered, drew their
six-shooters and began firing at him. Carlisle also drew a
revolver and shot Frank King, who died almost instantly.
Houston King kept up the fight, and Carlisle, riddled with
bullets, dropped to the sidewalk. There King, not yet seriously
injured, struck his opponent on the head, the force of the
blow breaking his weapon; but Carlisle, a man of iron, put forth
his little remaining strength, staggered to the wall, raised his
pistol with both hands, took deliberate aim and fired. It
was his last, but effective shot, for it penetrated King's body.</p>
<p>Carlisle was carried into the hotel and placed on a billiard-table;
and there, about three o'clock, he expired. At the first
exchange of shots, the people nearby, panic-stricken, fled, and
only a merciful Providence prevented the sacrifice of other
<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_348" id="Page_348">348</SPAN></span>
lives. J. H. Lander was accidentally wounded in the thigh;
some eight or ten bystanders had their clothes pierced by stray
bullets; and one of the stage-horses dropped where he stood
before the hotel door. When the first shot was fired, I was on
the corner of Commercial Street, only a short distance away,
and reached the scene in time to see Frank King expire and
witness Carlisle writhing in agony—a death more striking,
considering the murder of Carlisle's brother-in-law, John Rains.
Carlisle was buried from the Bella Union at four o'clock the
next day. King's funeral took place from A. J. King's residence,
two days later, at eight o'clock in the morning.</p>
<p>Houston King having recovered, he was tried for Carlisle's
murder, but was acquitted; the trial contributing to make the
affair one of the most mournful of all tragic events in the
early history of Los Angeles, and rendering it impossible to
express the horror of the public. One feature only of the
terrible contest afforded a certain satisfaction, and that was
the splendid exhibition of those qualities, in some respects
heroic, so common among the old Californians of that time.</p>
<p>July was clouded with a particularly gruesome murder.
George Williams and Cyrus Kimball of San Diego, while
removing with their families to Los Angeles, had spent the
night near the Santa Ana River, and while some distance from
camp, at sunrise next morning, were overtaken by seven armed
desperadoes, under the leadership of one Jack O'Brien, and
without a word of explanation, were shot dead. The women,
hearing the commotion, ran toward the spot, only to be commanded
by the robbers to deliver all money and valuables in
their possession. Over three thousand dollars—the entire savings
of their husbands—was secured, after which the murderers
made their escape. <i>Posses</i> scoured the surrounding country,
but the cutthroats were never apprehended.</p>
<p>Stimulated, perhaps, by the King-Carlisle tragedy, the
Common Council in July prohibited everybody except officers
and travelers from carrying a pistol, dirk, sling-shot or sword;
but the measure lacked public support, and little or no attention
was paid to the law.
<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_349" id="Page_349">349</SPAN></span></p>
<p>Some idea of the modest proportion of business affairs in
the early sixties may be gathered from the fact that, when the
Los Angeles Post Office, on August 10th, was made a money-deposit
office, it was obligatory that all cash in excess of
five hundred dollars should be despatched by steamer to San
Francisco.</p>
<p>In 1865, W. H. Perry, having been given a franchise to light
the city with gas, organized the Los Angeles City Gas Company,
five years later selling out his holdings at a large profit. A
promise was made to furnish free gas for lamps at the principal
crossings on Main Street and for lights in the Mayor's office, and
the consumers' price at first agreed upon was ten dollars a
thousand cubic feet.</p>
<p>The history of Westlake Park is full of interest. About
1865, the City began to sell part of its public land, in lots of
thirty-five acres, employing E. W. Noyes as auctioneer. Much
of it went at five and ten dollars an acre; but when the district
now occupied by the park and lake was reached, the auctioneer
called in vain for bids at even a dollar an acre; nobody wanted
the alkali hillocks. Then the auctioneer offered the area at twenty-five
cents an acre, but still received no bids, and the sale was
discontinued. In the late eighties, a number of citizens who
had bought land in the vicinity came to Mayor Workman and
promised to pay one-half of the cost of making a lake and laying
out pleasure grounds on the unsightly place; and as the Mayor
favored the plan, it was executed, and this was the first step in
the formation of Westlake Park.</p>
<p>On September 2d, Dr. J. J. Dyer, a dentist from San
Francisco, having opened an office in the Bella Union hotel,
announced that he would visit the homes of patrons and there
extract or repair the sufferers' teeth. The complicated equipment
of a modern dentist would hardly permit of such peripatetic
service to-day, although representatives of this profession
and also certain opticians still travel to many of the
small inland towns in California, once or twice a year, stopping
in each for a week or two at a time.</p>
<p>I have spoken of the use, in 1853, of river water for drinking,
<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_350" id="Page_350">350</SPAN></span>
and the part played by the private water-carrier. This
system was still largely used until the fall when David W.
Alexander leased all the public water-works for four years,
together with the privilege of renewing the lease another four
or six years. Alexander was to pay one thousand dollars
rental a year, agreeing also to surrender the plant to the
City at the termination of his contract. On August 7th,
Alexander assigned his lease to Don Louis Sainsevain, and
about the middle of October Sainsevain made a new contract.
Damien Marchessault associated himself with Don Louis and
together they laid pipes from the street now known as Macy
throughout the business part of the city, and as far (!) south as
First Street. These water pipes were constructed of pine logs
from the mountains of San Bernardino, bored and made to
join closely at the ends; but they were continually bursting,
causing springs of water that made their way to the surface of
the streets.</p>
<p>Conway & Waite sold the <i>News</i>, then a "tri-weekly" supposed
to appear three times a week, yet frequently issued
but twice, to A. J. King & Company, on November 11th;
and King, becoming the editor, made of the newspaper a semi-weekly.</p>
<p>To complete what I was saying about the Schlesingers:
In 1865, Moritz returned to Germany. Jacob had arrived in
Los Angeles in 1860, but disappearing four years later, his
whereabouts was a mystery until, one fine day, his brother
received a letter from him dated, "Gun Boat <i>Pocahontas</i>."
Jake had entered the service of Uncle Sam! The <i>Pocahontas</i>
was engaged in blockade work under command of Admiral
Farragut; and Jake and the Admiral were paying special attention
to Sabine Pass, then fortified by the Confederacy.</p>
<p>On November 27th, Andrew J. Glassell and Colonel
James G. Howard arrived together in Los Angeles. The
former had been admitted to the California Bar some ten or
twelve years before; but in the early sixties he temporarily
abandoned his profession and engaged in ranching near Santa
Cruz. After the War, Glassell drifted back to the practice
<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_351" id="Page_351">351</SPAN></span>
of law; and having soon cast his lot with Los Angeles, formed a
partnership with Alfred B. Chapman. Two or three years
later, Colonel George H. Smith, a Confederate Army officer
who in the early seventies lived on Fort Street, was taken
into the firm; and for years Glassell, Chapman and Smith
were among the leading attorneys at the Los Angeles Bar.
Glassell died on January 28th, 1901.</p>
<p>To add to the excitement of the middle sixties, a picturesque
street encounter took place, terminating almost fatally. Colonel,
the redoubtable E. J. C. Kewen, and a good-natured
German named Fred Lemberg, son-in-law to the old miller
Bors, having come to blows on Los Angeles Street near Mellus's
Row, Lemberg knocked Kewen down; whereupon friends
interfered and peace was apparently restored. Kewen, a
Southerner, dwelt upon the fancied indignity to which he
had been subjected and went from store to store until he
finally borrowed a pistol; after which, in front of John
Jones's, he lay in wait. When Lemberg, who, because of his
nervous energy, was known as the Flying Dutchman, again
appeared, rushing across the street in the direction of Mellus's
Row, the equally excited Colonel opened fire, drawing from his
adversary a retaliatory round of shots. I was standing nearly
opposite the scene and saw the Flying Dutchman and Kewen,
each dodging around a pillar in front of The Row, until finally
Lemberg, with a bullet in his abdomen, ran out into Los
Angeles Street and fell to the ground, his legs convulsively
assuming a perpendicular position and then dropping back.
After recovering from what was thought to be a fatal wound,
Lemberg left Los Angeles for Arizona or Mexico; but before he
reached his destination, he was murdered by Indians.</p>
<p>I have told of the trade between Los Angeles and Salt Lake
City, which started up briskly in 1855, and grew in importance
until the completion of the transcontinental railroad put an
end to it. Indeed, in 1865 and 1866 Los Angeles enterprise
pushed forward until merchandise was teamed as far as Bannock,
Idaho, four hundred and fifty miles beyond Salt Lake, and
Helena, Montana, fourteen hundred miles away. This indicates
<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_352" id="Page_352">352</SPAN></span>
to what an extent the building of railroads ultimately affected
the early Los Angeles merchants.</p>
<p>The Spanish drama was the event of December 17th, when
Señor Don Guirado L. del Castillo and Señora Amelia Estrella
del Castillo played <i>La Trenza de sus Cabellos</i> to an enthusiastic
audience.</p>
<p>In 1865 or 1866, William T. Glassell, a younger brother
of Andrew Glassell, came to Los Angeles on a visit; and being
attracted by the Southwest country, he remained to assist Glassell
& Chapman in founding Orange, formerly known as Richland.
No doubt pastoral California looked good to young
Glassell, for he had but just passed eighteen weary months in a
Northern military prison. Having thought out a plan for
blowing up the United States ironclads off Charleston Harbor,
Lieutenant Glassell supervised the construction of a cigar-shaped
craft, known as a <i>David</i>, which carried a torpedo attached
to the end of a fifteen-foot pole; and on October 5th,
1863, young Glassell and three other volunteers steamed out
in the darkness against the formidable new <i>Ironsides</i>. The
torpedo was exploded, doing no greater damage than to send
up a column of water, which fell onto the ship, and also to
hurl the young officers into the bay. Glassell died here at an
early age.</p>
<p>John T. Best, the Assessor, was another pioneer who had an
adventurous life prior to, and for a long time after, coming
to California. Having run away to sea from his Maine home
about the middle fifties, Best soon found himself among
pirates; but escaping their clutches, he came under the domination
of a captain whose cruelty, off desolate Cape Horn, was
hardly preferable to death. Reaching California about 1858,
Best fled from another captain's brutality and, making his
way into the Northern forests, was taken in and protected by
kind-hearted woodmen secluded within palisades. Successive
Indian outbreaks constantly threatened him and his comrades,
and for years he was compelled to defend himself against the
savages. At last, safe and sound, he settled within the pale of
civilization, at the outbreak of the Civil War enlisting as a
<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_353" id="Page_353">353</SPAN></span>
Union officer in the first battalion of California soldiers.
Since then Best has resided mostly in Los Angeles.</p>
<p>The year 1866 is memorable as the concluding period of
the great War. Although Lee had surrendered in the preceding
April, more than fifteen months elapsed before the Washington
authorities officially proclaimed the end of the Titanic
struggle which left one-half of the nation prostrate and the
other half burdened with new and untold responsibilities. By
the opening of the year, however, one of the miracles of modern
history—the quiet and speedy return of the soldier to the
vocations of peace—began, and soon some of those who had
left for the front when the War broke out were to be seen again
in our Southland, starting life anew. With them, too, came
a few pioneers from the East, harbingers of an army soon to
settle our valleys and seasides. All in all, the year was the
beginning of a brighter era.</p>
<p>Here it may not be amiss to take up the tale of the mimic
war in which Phineas Banning and I engaged, in the little
commercial world of Los Angeles, and to tell to what an extent
the fortunes of my competitors were influenced, and how the
absorption of the transportation charge from the seaboard
caused their downfall. O. W. Childs, in less than three months,
found the competition too severe and surrendered "lock,
stock and barrel;" P. Beaudry, whose vain-glorious boast had
stirred up this rumpus, sold out to me on January 1st, 1866,
just a few months after his big talk. John Jones was the last
to yield.</p>
<p>In January, 1866, I bought out Banning, who was soon to
take his seat in the Legislature for the advancing of his San
Pedro Railroad project, and agreed to pay him, in the future,
seven dollars and a half per ton for hauling my goods from
Wilmington to Los Angeles, which was mutually satisfactory;
and when we came to balance up, it was found that Banning
had received, for his part in the enterprise, an amount equal
to all that would otherwise have been charged for transportation
and a tidy sum besides.</p>
<p>Sam, brother of Kaspare Cohn, who had been in Carson
<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_354" id="Page_354">354</SPAN></span>
City, Nevada, came to Los Angeles and joined me. We
grew rapidly, and in a short time became of some local importance.
When Kaspare sold out at Red Bluff, in January,
1866, we tendered him a partnership. We were now three very
busy associates, besides M. A. Newmark, who clerked for us.</p>
<p>Several references have been made to the trade between
Los Angeles and Arizona, due in part to the needs of the Army
there. I remember that early in February not less than
twenty-seven Government wagons were drawn up in front of
H. Newmark & Company's store, to be loaded with seventy to
seventy-five tons of groceries and provisions for troops in the
Territory.</p>
<p>Notwithstanding the handicaps in this wagon-train traffic,
there was still much objection to railroads, especially to the plan
for a line between Los Angeles and San Pedro, some of the
strongest opposition coming from El Monte where, in February,
ranchers circulated a petition, disapproving railroad bills
introduced by Banning into the Legislature. A common
argument was that the railroad would do away with horses and
the demand for barley; and one wealthy citizen who succeeded
in inducing many to follow his lead, vehemently insisted that
two trains a month, for many years, would be all that could
be expected! By 1874, however, not less than fifty to
sixty freight cars were arriving daily in Los Angeles from
Wilmington.</p>
<p>Once more, in 1866, the Post Office was moved, this time to
a building opposite the Bella Union hotel. There it remained
until perhaps 1868, when it was transferred to the northwest
corner of Main and Market streets.</p>
<p>In the spring of 1866, the Los Angeles Board of Education
was petitioned to establish a school where Spanish as well as
English should be taught—probably the first step toward the
introduction into public courses here of the now much-studied
<i>castellano</i>.</p>
<p>In noting the third schoolhouse, at the corner of San Pedro
and Washington streets, I should not forget to say that Judge
Dryden bought the lot for the City, at a cost of one hundred
<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_355" id="Page_355">355</SPAN></span>
dollars. When the fourth school was erected, at the corner of
Charity and Eighth streets, it was built on property secured
for three hundred and fifty dollars by M. Kremer, who served
on the School Board for nine years, from 1866, with Henry
D. Barrows and William Workman. There, a few years ago,
a brick building replaced the original wooden structure. Besides
Miss Eliza Madigan, teachers of this period or later
were the Misses Hattie and Frankie Scott, daughters of Judge
Scott, the Misses Maggie Hamilton, Eula P. Bixby, Emma L.
Hawkes, Clara M. Jones, H. K. Saxe and C. H. Kimball; a
sister of Governor Downey, soon to become Mrs. Peter Martin,
was also a public school teacher.</p>
<p>Piped gas as well as water had been quite generally brought
into private use shortly after their introduction, all pipes
running along the surface of walls and ceilings, in neither a
very judicious nor ornamental arrangement. The first gas-fixtures
consisted of the old-fashioned, unornamented drops
from the ceiling, connected at right angles to the cross-pipe,
with its two plain burners, one at either end, forming an inverted
T (<ANTIMG src="images/t.jpg" width-obs="20" height-obs="18" alt="" />); and years passed before artistic bronzes and globes, such
as were displayed in profusion at the Centennial Exposition,
were seen to any extent here.</p>
<p>In September, Leon Loeb arrived in Los Angeles and
entered the employ of S. Lazard & Company, later becoming
a partner. When Eugene Meyer left for San Francisco on
the first of January, 1884, resigning his position as French Consular
Agent, Loeb succeeded him, both in that capacity and
as head of the firm. After fifteen years' service, the French
Government conferred upon Mr. Loeb the decoration of an
Officer of the Academy. As Past Master of the Odd Fellows,
he became in time one of the oldest members of Lodge
No. 35. On March 23d, 1879, Loeb married my eldest daughter,
Estelle; and on July 22d, 1911, he died. Joseph P. and Edwin
J. Loeb, the attorneys and partners of Irving M. Walker,
(son-in-law of Tomás Lorenzo Duque),<SPAN name="FNanchor_27" id="FNanchor_27" href="#Footnote_27" class="fnanchor">[27]</SPAN> are sons of Leon Loeb.</p>
<p>In the summer there came to Los Angeles from the Northern
<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_356" id="Page_356">356</SPAN></span>
part of California an educator who had already established
there and in Wisconsin an excellent reputation as a teacher.
This was George W. Burton, who was accompanied by his
wife, a lady educated in France and Italy. With them they
brought two assistants, a young man and a young woman,
adding another young woman teacher after they arrived.
The company of pedagogues made quite a formidable array;
and their number permitted the division of the school—then on
Main near what is now Second Street—into three departments:
one a kind of kindergarten, another for young girls and a third
for boys. The school grew and it soon became necessary to
move the boys' department to the vestry-room of the little
Episcopal Church on the corner of Temple and New High
streets.</p>
<p>Not only was Burton an accomplished scholar and experienced
teacher, but Mrs. Burton was a linguist of talent and
also proficient in both instrumental and vocal music. Our
eldest children attended the Burton School, as did also those
of many friends such as the Kremers, Whites, Morrises,
Griffiths, the Volney Howards, Kewens, Scotts, Nichols, the
Schumachers, Joneses and the Bannings.</p>
<p>Daniel Bohen, another watchmaker and jeweler, came
after Pyle, establishing himself, on September 11th, on the
south side of Commercial Street. He sold watches, clocks,
jewelry and spectacles; and he used to advertise with the figure
of a huge watch. S. Nordlinger, who arrived here in 1868,
bought Bohen out and continued the jewelry business during
forty-two years, until his death in 1911, when, as a pioneer
jeweler, he was succeeded by Louis S. and Melville Nordlinger,
who still use the title of S. Nordlinger & Sons.</p>
<p>Charles C. Lips, a German, came to Los Angeles from
Philadelphia in 1866 and joined the wholesale liquor firm of
E. Martin & Company, later Lips, Craigue & Company, in the
Baker Block. As a volunteer fireman, he was a member of
the old Thirty-Eights; a fact adding interest to the appointment,
on February 28th, 1905, of his son, Walter Lips, as Chief
of the Los Angeles Fire Department.
<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_357" id="Page_357">357</SPAN></span></p>
<p>On October 3d, William Wolfskill died, mourned by many.
Though but sixty-eight years of age, he had witnessed much in
the founding of our great Southwestern commonwealth; and
notwithstanding the handicaps to his early education, and the
disappointments of his more eventful years, he was a man of
marked intelligence and remained unembittered and kindly
disposed toward his fellow-men.</p>
<p>A good example of what an industrious man, following an
ordinary trade, could accomplish in early days was afforded
by Andrew Joughin, a blacksmith, who came here in 1866, a
powerful son of the Isle of Man, measuring over six feet and
tipping the beam at more than two hundred pounds. He had
soon saved enough money to buy for five hundred dollars a
large frontage at Second and Hill streets, selling it shortly
after for fifteen hundred. From Los Angeles, Joughin went to
Arizona and then to San Juan Capistrano, but was back here
again in 1870, opening another shop. Toward the middle
seventies, Joughin was making rather ingenious plows of iron
and steel which attracted considerable attention. As fast as
he accumulated a little money, he invested it in land, buying
in 1874, for six thousand dollars, some three hundred and sixty
acres comprising a part of one of the Ciénega <i>ranchos</i>, to
which he moved in 1876. Seven years later, he purchased three
hundred and five acres once called the Tom Gray Ranch, now
known by the more pretentious name of Arlington Heights.
In 1888, three years after he had secured six hundred acres
of the Palos Verdes <i>rancho</i> near Wilmington, the blacksmith
retired and made a grand tour of Europe, revisiting his beloved
Isle of Man.</p>
<p>Pat Goodwin was another blacksmith, who reached Los
Angeles in 1866 or 1867, shoeing his way, as it were, south
from San Francisco, through San José, Whisky Flat and other
picturesque places, in the service of A. O. Thorn, one of the
stage-line proprietors. He had a shop first on Spring Street,
where later the Empire Stables were opened, and afterward
at the corner of Second and Spring streets, on the site in time
bought by J. E. Hollenbeck.
<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_358" id="Page_358">358</SPAN></span></p>
<p>Still another smith of this period was Henry King (brother
of John King, formerly of the Bella Union), who in 1879-80
served two terms as Chief of Police. Later, A. L. Bath was a
well-known wheelwright who located his shop on Spring Street
near Third.</p>
<p>In 1866, quite a calamity befell this pueblo: the abandonment
by the Government of Drum Barracks. As this had
been one of the chief sources of revenue for our small community,
the loss was severely felt, and the immediate effect disastrous.
About the same time, too, Samuel B. Caswell (father
of W. M. Caswell, first of the Los Angeles Savings Bank and
now of the Security), who had come to Los Angeles the year before,
took into partnership John F. Ellis, and under the title of
Caswell & Ellis, they started a good-sized grocery and merchandise
business; and between the competition that they
brought and the reduction of the circulating medium, times
with H. Newmark & Company became somewhat less prosperous.
Later, John H. Wright was added to the firm, and
it became Caswell, Ellis & Wright. On September 1st, 1871,
the firm dissolved.
<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_359" id="Page_359">359</SPAN></span></p>
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