Pescadero Memories

Story from John Vonderlin
Email John (benloudman@sbcglobal.net)

Hi June,
You ever hear of Cerritos Creek Bridge? Enjoy. John

Remarkable Bridge
It Crosses Cerritos Creek Not Far From San Gregorio

In all there are seventy upright supports in the bridge and they must have been stood on end entirely by the use of ropes, pulleys and muscle. Those in the center of the bridge are the highest and the others get shorter and shorter as they climb the bank on either side. Very few braces are used, so that the bridge presents the appearance of a series of straight poles reaching across the ravine. The country in this vicinity is picturesque and wild and the bridge does not look the least bit out of place. In fact it rather blends into the landscape. It does not present a very beautiful appearance nor does it look grotesque.

Dear June,

I was wondering if you have any information on the builder, Samuel Bean.  I was told that my family “sailed around the horn”, settling in the Redwood City area in 1849.  I was told he built the Presbyterian Church in Pescadero which is now a historical landmark and that Bean Hollow was named form.  I still have some of his building records from that time.

Thank you,

Jane E. Schlager,
Burlingame, CA

Hello June,

Samuel Bean is my great great grandfather.
He married Celia White Hankerson (from Maine, 1861)) July 6, 1861 in San Francisco by Starr King.
She was a sponsor of San Mateo County and was a dress maker in Redwood City. (published in the illustrated history of San Mateo County)

I have a copy of a book where he keeps a record of building materials and wages (1873-74).
I also have a copy of his funeral service that was a printed booklet.

My aunt has more information.  I was just curious and was “surfing the web” the other evening.

Blessings, Jane

Story by John Vonderlin

Email John (benloudman@sbcglobal.net)

COLOMBIA   COVE’S   WRECK
The   Undoing   of   a   Stranded
Liner   Viewed   by   Crowds
of   Sightseers.
Souvenir-Hunters   Besiege   the   Vessel
in   Search   of   Relics   of   the
Disaster.
ON   BOARD   STEAMSHIP   COLOMBIA,
ashore   off   Pigeon   Point   Light   (via   Pesca -
dero,   Cal.),   July   18.―The   wrecking   of   the
steamer   goes   on,   though   tbe   bay   (they
call   it   Colombia   Cove   now)   is   calm   and
the   breakers   stilled.   The   ship’s   people
know   that   at   any   time   the   waves   from   a
local   blow,   or   a   mountainous   swell   boating
in   from   some   far   off   gale   will   drive   tbe
crew   ashore   and   finish   the   work   of   the
reef.
Everything   that   can   be   moved   and   re -
moved   to   the   schooners   alongside   is
wrenched   and   torn   from   its   fastenings   and
hoisted   over   tbe   rail   with   the   still   useful
donkey-engine.
That   donkey-machine   has   immortalized
itself.   While   the   great   main   engines   of
the   ship   lie   dead   and   corroding   under
water,   the   donkey-boiler,   perched   above
the   sea,   is   in   action,   and   Fireman   Collins
is   the   sooty   Casablanca   who   stays   by   the
furnace.
When   the   tide   registers   high   on   the
liter-marks   on   the   bulkhead   and   his   fire
sizzles   out   he   drops   his   shovel,   washes   his
face   in   the   flood   that   chases   him   from   his
post   and   goes   up   the   ladder.   Though   Col -
lins   is   a   king   in   a   small   way.   he   can   stay
the   sea   no   more   than   did   Canute   ages   ago;
but   he   gets   a   good   head   of   steam   on   before
the   water   laps   over   the   gratebars   and   the
faithful   “donkey”   runs   until   the   tide   falls.
Then   Collins   again   starts   his   fire   and   lor
a   season   defies   the   waves.
One   of   the   foremost   laborers   in   the   work
of   stripping   the   steamer   is   Ship-Carpenter
Wheaton.   He   assisted   in   building   the
Colombia   and   is   now   engaged   in   undoing
his   work.   With   chisel   and   crowbar   he
ruthlessly   wrenches   mirrors,   desks,   wash -
stands,   racks   and   lamps   from   their   places
and   tosses   them   out   onto   the   deck   to   be
hoisted   aboard   the   awaiting   schooners.
He   removed   the   piano   from   the   saloon
yesterday,   but   with   more   care   than   he   be -
stows   on   his   other   plunder.   There   are
three   other   pianos   down   in   the   flooded
hold.
The   only   idle   person   aboard   the   Colom -
bia   is   Customs   Inspector   O’Leary,   who   is
here   to   see   that   nothing   dutiable   washes
out   through   the   holes   in   tie   hulk   without
his   chalkmarks   thereon.   As   he   has   no
diving   suit   he   is   unable   to   get   down   into
the   hold   and   prevent   the   landing   of   the
cargo,   and   consequently   he   is   in   a   quan -
dary.   He   trusts   that   Deputy   Collector
Bam   Rudell   will   understand   the   situation.
The   only   foreign   importations   that   have
escaped   him   thus   far   are   about   40,000,000
limes   that   have   gone   bobbing   merrily   one
by   one   through   the   breakers   to   the   beach
without   permission   lrom   the   Treasury
Department.   Inspector   O’Leary   has   missed
several   cases   of   men’s   trousers   from   the
ship,   which   have   gone   out   through   the
shattered   bottom   and   have   disappeared.
The   souvenir   fiend   has   come   down   upon
the   helpless   ship.   Every   article   worthless
for   practical   uses   has   been   picked   up,
whether   floating   or   beached,   and   borne
away   to   be   exhibited   in   after   years   as   a
memento   of   Colombia   Cove’s   last   victim.
One   woman   tourist   from   Boston   found   on
the   beach   a   sardine   can   which   Joe   Levy   of
Pescadeo   had   thrown   away   after   eating   its
contents   on   the   bluff   the   day   before.
An   old   gentleman   hailing   from   Belve -
dere   secured   a   driftinc   beer-bottle   and
carried   it   away   in   triumph,   nor   recogniz -
ing   it   as   having   accompanied   him   to   the
locality   that   morning.   A   sweet   Stanford
co-ed   risked   her   life   snatching   from   the
salt   sea   waves   a   pocket-comb   which   her
escort,   a   football   savage,   had   lost.   He
had   been   combing   his   long,   Samsonian
tresses   behind   a   rock   a   la   mermaid   and
had   dropped   it   overboard.
The   country   swarms   with   midsummer
campers   and   the   shipwreck   is   an   addi -
tional   attraction   for   them.   They   come
down   tbe   beach,   sit   on   the   rocks   and   take
in   the   marine   drama,   with   the   poor   Colom -
bia   occupying   the   center   of   the   stage.   A
bright   sun   lights   the   scene,   and   the   or -
chestral   breakers   play   an   eternal   mono -
chord.   Other   ships   pass   and   repass   tbe
little   bay.   gliding   smoothly   over   the   quiet
sea,   and   their   freedom   makes   the   condi -
tion   of   their   luckless   sister,   bound   as   she
in   to   a   rock,   all   the   more   pitiable.
“I   was   listening   to   the   Ano   Nuevo   fog
signal   sounding   off   the   starboard   quarter,
and   had   not   the   slightest   idea   ol   danger,”
said   Captain   Clark   to-day,   in   discussing
the   recent   disaster.   “I   was   sure   that   it
was   the   Pigeon   Point   warning,   and   as   it
sounded   so   indistinct   in   the   thick   fog   I
believed   it   was   miles   astern,   and   so   kept
on,   with   this   result.   What   was   my   sensa -
tions   when   I   felt   the   reef?
“Well,   it   was   as   if   a   knife   was   going
through   me.   I   did   not   know   where   I   was,
and   the   shock   of   finding   myself   on   the
rocks,   when   I   thought   myself   well   at   sea,
bewildered   me   for   a   few   seconds.   Then   I
thought   of   the   passengers   and   crew;   of
myself   I   had   no   thought,   except   that   I
desired   to   go   down   on   those   rocks   and   be
ground   to   fragments   with   my   ship.
“I   have   sailed   probably   six   times   a   year
for   six   years   out   yonder,   going   up   and
down   this   coast.   I   knew   that   this   was   a
spot   to   shun,   and   that   it   was   the   burial
place   of   several   vessels   that   had   wandered
in   too   near   the   reefs.   Can   you   not   im -
agine   how   anxious   I   was   when   the   fog
came   down   upon   me,   and   a   danger   signal
horn   on   shore   was   sounding?   I   never
THE   SAN   FRANCISCO   CALL,   SUNDAY,   JULY   19,   1896.
heard   the   Pigeon   Point   signal,   though   it
was   so   near.   If   I   had   caught   a   note   of
that   whistle,   how   quickly   I   would   have
steered   for   the   open   ocean,   and   have   pre -
vented   this,”   and   the   captain   motioned
toward   the   hull   that   reeled   uneasily
beneath   our   feet.
“This   is   my   first   mishap   and   no   one   can
know   how   it   takes   me,”   he   continued.
“My   wife   and   my   daughter,   the   latter   of
whom   has   just   graduated   from   the   uni -
versity,   are   in   Massachusetts.   They   will
immediately   return;   their   pleasant   visit -
ing   is   quickly   brought   to   an   end.
But   I   have   one   consolation,   and   that
is   that   no   lives   were   lost.   There   is   no   sad -
ness   in   any   home   but   my   own.   I   wish
this   vessel   could   be   saved.   She   is   too
good   a   ship   to   be   lost.   She   was   so   perfect
in   every   way   that   every   one   who   sailed   in
her   became   attached   to   her.
“Even   now   the   Colombia   could   be   saved
if   the   proper   appliances   were   at   hand.
The   water   is   deep   around   the   narrow   ledge
of   rocks   on   which   she   lies   so   easily.   Ves -
sels,   lighters,   pontoons   of   any   draught
could   be   moored   alongside   of   her   and   her
hull   lifted   clear.   If   she   had   gone   ashore
within   forty   miles   of   New   York   or   any
large   Atlantic   seaport   she   would   not   have
been   abandoned   to   become   a   scrap-iron
heap   on   the   beach.   When   somebody   pro -
vides   a   modern   and   effective   wrecking
outfit   the   Pacific   coast   will   cease   to   be   a
graveyard   for   ships.”

Story by John Vonderlin

Email John (benloudman@sbcglobal.net)

Hi June,

The “Chronicling America” website at the Library of Congress is down temporarily, but the California Newspaper Archive is back online. I’ll get back in there soon as we are winding down the “Spring Cleanup” here in Santa Clara with just one more section starting Saturday. I obsessively gather stuff for my building projects, Meg’s wood stove, donations for thrift stores, friends, etc. One site alone contributed 525 “new” bricks which took four loads. My hands are a mess, my backyard looks like a lumberyard and the spare bedroom is piled high with junk I’ll be foisting on any visitors we get. All my “Free is Good” and Packrat tendencies are just about satiated. Sorting, grading, longterm storage, and everything else still needs to be done, but the “JunkLust” is subsiding. I’ll send some pictures of my nuttiness when the piles reach their zenith.
The attached ScreenShots are from the July 15th, 1896 issue of “The Call.” Because the site is down I can’t get the OCR version yet, but when I do I’ll send it along. The accompanying article contains more info on “Gordon’s Chute” then I have seen anywhere else. It also reveals some differences from the generally known history of “The Chute.”
Did you read the HMB Review article about a young man who found “alien” scrawlings on the beach at Tunitas? Apparently, Jim*** is back. Enjoy. John

A PICTURESQUE RUIN

ALL THAT IS LEFT OF ALEXANDER GORDON’S GRAIN CHUTE

One of the first enterprises of any magnitude, outside of mining, ever undertaken in California was the construction of Alexander Gordon’s grain chute on the coast a few miles from Purissima, in San Mateo County. It was done way back in 1860, just after it was demonstrated that the best wheat in the world could be raised on the vast fields of the Santa Clara Valley. It was easy enough to grow the grain, but the trouble was to get it to market. Hauling it by teams to San Francisco was slow and expensive, so Alexander Gordon hit on the idea of his chute, and was not long in getting plenty of backing.

It took several years to build the chute, and it is said to have cost over half a million dollars. When it was finished it was possible for a vessel to lie out in deep water, an eighth of a mile from land, and have the grain poured into her hold from a pipe or come to the deck in sacks as fast as they could be counted.

This was accomplished by building a pier of piles out into the ocean the desired distance, and from the end of an inclined plane, carrying a smooth tube chute which reached to the top of the cliff, 150 feet high, on the shore. The wagons full of grain simply drove to the shore end of the chute and dumped their loads into it. Gravity carried the wheat to the vessel over a quarter of a mile away.

To provide for occasions when there was no vessel to receive the grain, extensive warehouses were constructed on top of the cliff, in which it was store until wanted. There was a little city at the end of the chute and at least 100 men were employed in the different departments and in keeping it in order.

The venture proved a failure on account of the dangerous locality in which it was located. Winds, fogs and treacherous currents sent several vessels that were being loaded ashore. Several men who operated [missing words] the water and were drownded. Loss of life was great and after two seasons the grain chute was abandoned.

No attempt was made to remove any part of it until a few months ago, and it stood there thirty years at the mercy of wind and waves. Not much of the old pier is left standing now, but such as is is most picturesque. The old piles rise grimly from the water and the apron at the end creaks and growns dismally. The actions of the waves has washed out a large portion of the center of the pier so that it would be almost impossible to reach the end now even if one desired to.

The work of removing the old warehouses and other buildings was completed a few weeks ago. All the iron work in the pier that could be reached was taken out. This has, of course, weakened the structure so that it can’t be very long before the waves wash it out of existence.

==========

***Jim Denevan

Story from John Vonderlin
Email John (benloudman@sbcglobal.net)

Hi June,
This is the next chapter in the Cowell/Majors Breach of Contract dispute. It appeared in “The Morning Call,” issue of December 23rd, 1894. Things are not looking good for Antonia. Enjoy. John

A STRANGE CASE.
Mysterious Disappearance
of Mrs. Majors.
LEFT HOME A MONTH AGO.
And Nothing Has Been Heard of
Her Since.
SHE TOOK HER CHILD WITH HER
Her Relatives Believe She Has Been
Abducted or Foully Dealt
With.
Santa Cruz. Dec. 22.—Relatives of
Mrs. Robert Majors believe she has been
abducted, for she has not been heard from
by them for over a month. She is the
plaintiff in a suit brought about a month
ago for $50.000 for breach of promise
against Harry Cowell, son| of the late
Henry Cowell, a millionaire of San Fran -
cisco.
The suit was originally brought in this
county and subsequently transferred to
the United States Circuit Court, as the de -
fendant is now a resident of Washington,
having left here soon after suit was com -
menced. It was a long time before papers
could be served on him, as plaintiff’s at -
torneys did not know his whereabouts.
One day he paid a flying visit to this city
and then the summons was served.
Mrs. Majors, who is the mother of seven
children, resides near where are Cowell’s
kilns, of which defendant was superin -
tendent. She alleges that defendant had
intimate relations with her on a promise to
marry, and that a child was the result.
Recently Mrs. Majors, who has been re -
siding with relatives here, was visited by
a man named Patterson, who claimed to
be a San Francisco private detective. He
was accompanied by a woman and the
next day after their appearance Mrs.
Majors said he came to look after her pri -
vate affairs. He was not known to any of
her relatives, it is said that she mort -
gaged her place for $5OO and gave the de -
tective $40. When she left with the de -
tective and tbe woman she said that she
was going to San Francisco to prose -
cute her case against Cowell and place the
child in an orphan asylum.
She also promised to write to her rela -
tives, but not a word have they received,
nor have they found any one who has seen
her since she left. They believe that she
has either been abducted or met with foul
play. Mrs. Majors is a woman wbo
weighs probably 200 pounds, of dark com -
plexion and about 35 or 40 years old

Story/Photos by John Vonderlin
Email John (benloudman@sbcglobal.net)

Hi June,
Here’s a story from the March 2nd, 1902 issue of “The San Francisco Call,” that deals with the treacherous passage around “Cape Horn,” as the spot at Alligator Rock, San Mateo’s southerly coastside entrance, was called. Enjoy. John
P.S. I’ve attached a picture looking down at Alligator Rock and showing about where the stage road would have been. There’s also a picture looking east from the end of the rock showing the remnant of the bluffs they had to get around. Also a picture looking north from the rock showing the view visitors to San Mateo would have first seen. Lastly a photo from the end of the rock catching some spray that almost got us.

SANTA CRUZ, March 1.—The Pescadero
stage had a narrow escape from a disas -
ter yesterday, and that no lives were lost
is remarkable. Twenty miles up the
coast the stage travels along the beach,
which, at high tide, is often covered by
water. Yesterday the ocean was higher
than at any time ln thirty-five years. In
the center of the beach it is very rocky
and rough, with water on either side.
When Driver James Harvey reached this
point a monster wave dashed against the
stage and upturned it.
For two hours the horses, Harvey and
the single passenger, William Steele,
floundered in the cold waters of the Pa -
cific. Fortunately both men were good
swimmers. The horses were cut loose and
found their way to dry land.
Help arrived and after several hours
work the stage was turned over. It was
badly demolished. The vehicle weighed
1600 pounds and was hard to handle. The
top nad been broken off-by the wave, the
iron on the tongue snapped and the dou -
ble-tree ‘broken. The iron rim around the
hub struck the rocks with such terrlflc
force that it was bent as though of tin. ;•
Special Dispatch to The Call.
Wave .Carries Disaster
to the Pescadero
Coach.

Story from John Vonderlin

Email John (benloudman@sbcglobal.net)

suffering   and   comfort   his   afflicted   family.;
At   bis   death   they   assumed   guardianship
over   the   widow   and   the   seven   orphaned
children.
During   Bob   Majors’   long   illness   Henry
C.   Cowell   and   his   two   sons,   Ernest   and
Harry,   called   several   times   each   week   to
ask   about   his   welfare.
When   the   funeral   was   over   Harry
Cowell   still   contiuued   his   visits   to   the
widow—and   here   was   the   beginning   of   the
end.
With   his   superior   business   judgment,
being   a   money-making   man   of   the   world,
he   advised   her   as   to   many   things,   sucb   as
the   building   of   fences,   roads   and   bridges,
and   various   ways   of   improving   the   rancho,
thereby   winning   her   confidence   and   friend -
ship,   and,   long   before   she   knew   it,   her
heart’s   affection   as   well.
Then   began   his   love-making   and   prom -
ises   of   marriage;   and   as   ‘he   never   made
any   secret   of   bis   preference   for  her   she
did   not   dream   of   doubting   bis   sincerity.
Together   they   walked   arm   in   arm   along
the   lane   leading   from   the   senior   Cowell’s
home   to   that   owned   by   Mrs,   Majors.
Together   they   drove   into   town   several
times   a   week;   In   fact,   they   were   seen   con -
tinually   in   each   others’   company,   and   the
public   had   grown   so   accustomed   to   seeing
them   thus   that   comments   were   seldom
passed   upon   the   subject.   She   says   he   had
said   to   her   many   times,   “I   love   you   and
will   make   you   my   wife   any   time   that   you
may   name,”   and   she,   happy   and   content
in   her   love   and   confidence   in   him,   waited
from   month   to   month   for   a   more   oppor -
tune   time.   Several   times   he   had   said:
“We   must   be   married   soon,   for   I   cannot
permit   people   to   say   unkind   things   of   the
moiher of   my   child.   l am   pleased   that   a
child   of   mine   should   be   the   first   heir   to   in -
herit   the   Cowell   millions,”   are   words   she
alleges   he   uttered.
He   even   insisted,   so   the   woman   declares,
on   bringing   a   minister   to   the   house   to   per -
form   the   marriage   ceremony.
But   a   young   son   of   Mrs.   Majors   had   been
brought home   a   short   time   before   with   a
badly   crushed   knee.   The   bouse   was   all   con -
fusion   and   disorder,   and   she   proposed   go -
ing   to   town   to   be   married.
Then   a   happy   thought   occurred   to   him.
He   had   received   a   letter   from   his   mother
and   sisters,   wbo   reside   in   an   elegant   home
at   413   Hyde   street,   in   this   city,   inviting
him   to   take   dinner   with   them.
The   fateful   to-morrow   being   Wednes -
day   he   said   he   would   go   to   the   city   and   re -
main   over   Thursday,   aud   on   Friday   morn -
ing’s   early   train   he   would   go   to   San   Jose,
where   she   should   meet   him   in   the   depot.
They   would   then   go   to   a   minister   and   be
married.
From   there   they   would   go   to   Salinas   on
a   wedding   tour,   and   rpturn   to   Santa   Cruz
whenever   it   should   best   suit   them.   This
arrangement   being   perfectly   satisfactory
he   slipped   the   plain   gold   ring   from   her
finger   that   her   dead   husband   had   given
her   for   a   wedding   ring,   saying   he   would
take   it   as   a   measure   for   a   diamond   ring
which   be   would   put   on   her   fiuger   at   San
Jose.
Then   after   repeatedly   cautioning   her
not   to   disappoint   him,   but   to   be   sure   and
meet   him   in   the   station   at   San   Jose   Fri -
day   morning,   he   took   his   departure,   and
from   that   day   to   this   Mary   Antonia   Castro
Majors   has   never   set   eyes   on   Harry   Cowell
or   the   plain   gold   ring.
Thanksgiving   morning   Mrs.   Majors   came
to   town   and   saw   Senator   Burk   and   L.   F.
Smith,   as   well   as   many   other   friends,   and
told   them   she   was   on   her   way   to   San   Jose,
where   she   would   be   married   to   Harry
Cowell   on   the   following   day.   They   all
congratulated   her   upon   her   apparent   good
fortune.
Being   short   of   money   she   went   to   Char -
lie   Clark,   the   jeweler,   and   got   £30,   telling
him   for   what   purpose   she   wanted   the
money.   All   of   these   witnesses   hare   been
subpenaed   to   testify   at   the   trial.
In   San   Jose   she   remained   over   night   at
the   St.   Charles   Hotel.   In   the   morning   she
went   to   the   station,   and   there,   in   the   cold
cheerless   waiting-room,   she   sat   all   day,
eagerly   scanning   the   face   of   each   new -
comer,   searching   in   vain   for   the   bride -
groom   that   never   came.
When   the   last   train   of   cars   in   the   even -
ing   pulled   out   for   Santa   Cruz   she   came
in   me,   cold,   lonely   nnd   deserted,   with
heart   and   brain   filled   with   strange   fore -
bodings   of   evil,   yet   never   for   a   moment
doubting   him.   She   kept   saying   over   and
over   to   herself,   “There   has   been   some   mis -
take,   something   dreadful   has   happened   to
him.”
On   reaching   Santa   Cruz   she   drove   out   to
the   senior   Cowell’s   place,   feeling   sure   that
some   massage   was   awaiting   her   there.
The   house   was   dark   and   the   sleepy   ser -
vants   declared   that   none   of   the   family
was   at   borne   and   that   there   was   no   mes -
saee   for   her.
Then,   for   the   first   time.   It   slowly   dawned
ucon   her   that   she   had   been   duped   and   de -
ceived   and   made   the   shame   and   laughing -
stock   of   the   community   in   which   she
lived,   and   her   fury   had   no   bounds,   and
well   it   was   for   faithless   Harry   Cowell   that
he   was   not   within   reach   of   those   slender
cruel   hands   that   night.
When   sufficiently   recovered   from   the
first   shock   of   mortification   and   disappoint -
ment   Mrs.   Majors   came   to   town   and   by
ber   attorney.   Senator   Bart   Burk,   filed   a
complaint   in   the   Superior   Court   of   the
county   of   Santa   Cruz,   charging   Harry
Cowell   with   breach   of   promise   of   mar -
riaee   and   asking   for   $50,000   damages.
•   After   having   resided   in   the   State   of
Washington   for   two   years   Cowell   returned
to   Santa   Cruz.   The   papers   in   the   case
were   immediately   served   upon   him,   and
lie   by   his   attorney,   £.   S.   Pillsbury,   filed
an   order   transferring   the   cause   from   the
Superior   Court   of   the   county   of   Santa
Cruz   to   the   Circuit   Court   In   this   city,   after
which   be   returned   to   the   State   of   Wash -
ington.
Miss   Cowell,   a   sister   of   the   defendant,
was   seen   at   the   family   residence   at   413
Hyde   street,   yesterday,   but   refused   to   dis.
cuss   the   case.   She   was   the   only   member
of   the   family   at   home   except   her   invalid
mother,   tier   father   and   brother,   she   said,
were   both   out   of   the   city.
“I   know   nothing   of   my   brother’s   affairs,
and   the   case   of   which   you   speak   has   never
been   mentioned   to   me.”   she   said.   “Mv
father   will   probably   return   In   a   few   days.”
When   asked   when   her   brother   would
return.   Miss   Cowell   said:
“I   don’t   know,   but   we   expeot   them   both
very   soon.”
Mr.   Pillsbury,   who   represents   young
Cowell,   Is   also   out   of   town.

——————-

**Please read the sequel below.

Story from John Vonderlin

Email John (benloudman@sbcglobal.net)

Hi June,
While this brings to a close, at least as far as I can find in the old San Francisco newspapers, this sad dispute, there is the untold story of the Cowells’,  Majors’,  Coons’ and   the “love child’s” lives after this time.  I’ll relate some of that in my next posting on this matter. Enjoy. John

MARRIED   TO   A   DRUGGIST
Mrs.   Majors   Abandons   Her   Big
Suit   Against   Harry
CowelL.
The   Groom   Owns   Real   Estate   and
Was   Once   Chief   Clerk   in
the   Postofflce.
A   most   sensational   breach-of-promise
suit,   and   one   that   has   occupied   the   courts
and   the   newspapers   for   the   past   year   and
a   half,   was   brought   to   a   sudden   and   unex -
pected   close   by   the   marriage   of   Mrs.   Rob -
ert   Majors   of   Santa   Cruz,   plaintiff   in   the
$50,000   damage   suit   against   Harry   Cowell,
whose   father,   Henry   Cowell,   is   the   well -
known   San   Francisco   lime   king,   to   George
M.   Coon,   a   prominent   druggist   of   this
City.
The   marriage,   which   will   prove   a   great
surprise   to   the   many   friends   of   both   par -
ties,   took   place   on   the   27th   of   April   last   in
the   city   of   Oakland,   and   was   conducted   in
the   quietest   manner   possible   by   the
groom,   who   is   of   a   modest,   retiring   dispo -
sition   and   feared   the   newspaper   comments
likely   to   follow   the   announcement   of   his
marriage   to   Mrs.   Majors,   whose   big
breach-of-promise   suit   has   gained   for   her
much   unenviable   notoriety—a   fact   due,   no
doubt,   to   both   parties   being   so   well   known
throughout   the   State.
Mrs.   Majors   is   a   granddaughter   of   old
Rafael   Castro,   who   left   thousands   of   cattle
and   rich   Spanish   grants   to   his   descend -
ants.
Mrs.   Majors   was   first   married   to   her
cousin,   Robert   Majors,   who   was   also   a
Castro   and   a   wealthy   land-owner   in   Santa
Cruz.   Some   years   after   their   marriage   he
was   drinking   in   the   saloon   of   Jack   Merrill
in   Santa   Cruz,   when   some   words   passed
between   himself   and   his   friend   “Johnny”
Harris.   “Bob”   Majors   had   no   idea   of
fear   and   was   ever   ready   with   his   gun.
When   the   dispute   was   settled   Harris   had
six   bullet-holes   through   his   heart   and
Majors   had   three   or   four   scattered   about
through   his   body,   from   the   effects   of
which   he   died   one   year   after.
Before   and   after   the   death   of   Majors
young   Cowell   was   a   visitor   to   the   Majors’
home,   their   land   adjoining   that   of   his
father.   These   visits   resulted   in   the   bring -
ing   of   the   $50,000   damage   suit   some   time
after   Majors’   death.   Since   then   Mrs.
Majors   has   been   almost   constantly   before
the   public.   At   one   time   it   was   reported
and   believed   by   many   of   her   friends   that
she   had   been   abducted   or   in   some   manner
made   away   with   by   the   Cowells,   and   the
newspapers   teemed   with   her   portraits   and
startling   theories   of   the   abduction.   Mean -
while   she   was   in   this   city   lying   at   the
point   of   death   from   pneumonia,   and   being
tenderly   nursed   and   looked   after   by   the
gentleman   who   is   now   her   husband.”   Mr.
Coon   was   for   sir   years   chief   mailing   clerk
in   the   San   Francisco   Postoffioe.
He   is   also   a   wealthy   land-owner,   having
much   valuable   property   in   this   City.   He
will   soon   begin   the   building   of   a   splendid
City   home   on   his   property   near   the   new
French   Hospital.   His   wife’s   property   in
Santa   Cruz,   he   says,   will   be   fitted   up   as   a
summer   residence,   where   their   many
friends   will   be   royally   entertained   by   them.
In   regard   to   the   suit   against   Harry
Cowell,   Mr.   Coon   declares   that   the   public
will   hear   no   more   about   it   from   either   him -
self   or   his   wife,   and   that   they   will   do   all
they   can   to   banish   from   their   memory
an   incident   in   life   that   had   brought   only
sorrow   and   mortifying   publicity   to   his
wife.

Story from John Vonderlin

Email John (benloudman@sbcglobal.net)

Hi June,

SAN   MATEO   GOLD.
The   Black   Sand   Said   to   Yield   In   Paylng
Quantities.
That   San   Mateo   County   should   come   for -
ward   at   this   late   day   as   an   exporter   of   gold
is   something   astonishing,   yet   that   is   what
has   now   come   to   pass     Calvin   Sweet   seems
to   be   solving   the   problem   of   how   to   get   a
fortune   out   of   black   sand,   which,   in   this   red -
wood   and   cheese   country,   is   astonishing.
That black sand  should   be   found   here   in   such
quantities   is   somewhat   surprising;   that   a
process   for   its   successful   treatment,   which
his   eluded   the   vigilance   of   the   best   experts
of   the   mining   camps   lor   years,   should   be
inaugurated   among   us   Is   equally   so;   that   a
man   who   has   spent   nearly   the   whole   of   a
long   life   in   the   carpentry   business   should
prove   the   lucky   inventor   of   a   successful
process   is   more   so.   The   black   sand   re -
ferred   to   is   found   at   the   mouth   of   Bean
Hollow,   three   miles   from   the   Swanton
House,   Pescadero,   and   within   a   stone’s
throw   of   the   surf.   Yon   can   dig   it   up   by   the
shovelful.   Not   a   hundred   yards   away   Mr.
Sweet’s   little   girl   was   picking   wild   straw -
berries   from   among   the   daisies   as   the   Times-
Gazette   man   quizzed   the   boys   working   the
machine   and   watched   their   father   retort   a
clean-up   showing   pretty   gold   worth   $18   the
ounce.
A   canvas   hose   from   a   reservoir   of   pure
spring   water   delivers   a   gentle   stream   into   a
trough,   Into   which   the   sand   is   shoveled,   and
which   empties   it   onto   a   series   of   board   sur -
faces,   one   foot   by   two,   set   out   from   a   center
post   as   the   threads   of   a   screw,   aud   inclined
inwardly   a   very   little.   Below   them   is   a
round   table   constructed   about   the   central
post,   six   feet   in   diameter   and   beveled   a   little
outwardly.   These   surfaces   are   covered   with
Brussels   carpet.   The   post   is   four   feet   high,
six   inches   square,   and   is   mounted   on   two
metal   wheels   free   to   move,   as   the   casters
of   a   bedpost.   A   pin   in   the   center   of
the   post   is   inserted   in   the   middle   of   a   steel
plate,   whose   surface   is   corrugated.   On   this
surface   the   wheels   travel   and   the   corruga -
tions   give   a   gentle   vertical   oscillation   to   the
post   and   its   attached   platforms   wben   in
motion.   Motion   is   by   hand-power   and   av -
erages   thirty   revolutions   per   minute,   the
boy   who   runs   it   being   six   feet   away.   The
centrifugal   force   of   the   revolving   post
throws   most   of   the   black   sand   off   the   edge
of   tbe   circular   platform.   What   remains
caught   in   the   carpet   surface   is   washed   out
The   gold   is   then   separated   in   the   usual   min -
ing   method   oy   means   of   a   miner’s   horn,
it   is   then   amalgamated,   retorted   aud   cleanedolO
with   acetic   acid.—Times-Gazette.