Life in the Mines, 1849

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“Life in the Mines” from California, 1849-1913 by Lell Hawley Woolley, 1913.

The preceding pages were written about twenty years ago, and only covered about one and one-half years after leaving the Green Mountains of old Vermont. Since which time, I have experienced nearly all of the vicissitudes of the State to the present time (1913). I will now attempt to give an account of my stewardship from that time on. I date my arrival in the State, Weaverville, about three miles below Hangtown (now Placerville), September 10th, 1849.

This was where I did my first mining, which was not much of a success, on account of my weak condition caused by my having the so-called "land scurvy," brought on from a want of vegetable food, and I left for Sacramento City where I remained for a week or two and then left and went to Grass Valley. There I made a little money, and went to Sacramento City and bought two wagon loads of goods, went back to Grass Valley and started a hotel, ran it a few weeks, and the first thing I knew I was "busted."

It is now in the winter of '49 and '50 and I went to Sacramento again, and from Sacramento to Beal's Bar on the North Fork of the American River at the junction of the North and South Forks. By this time I had gained my strength so that I was more like myself, and I bought a rocker, pick, shovel and pan and went into the gulches for gold. I had fairly good luck until spring.

By this time I had laid by a few hundred dollars, and I joined a company of thirty to turn the South Fork of the American River into the North Fork, by so doing we expected to drain about one-fourth of a mile of the bed of the South Fork. The banks of the river were rich and everything went to show that the bed of the river was very rich, and we went to work with great hopes of a big harvest of gold. The first thing we did was to build a dam, and dig a canal, which we accomplished in about four months. About this time snow and rain came on in the mountains, raised the water in the river and washed away part of our dam. It was now too late to build again that season.

Now you see the hopes and disappointments of the miner. While we were at work on the canal we had occasion to blast some boulders that were in our way. We had a blacksmith to sharpen the picks and drills who had a portable forge on the point of land between the two rivers. When we were ready to blast the rock we gave him timely warning, he paid no heed, the blast went off, and a portion of a boulder weighing about 500 pounds went directly for his forge and within about six inches of his legs and went on over into the North Fork. The man turned about and hollered to the boys in the canal ''I surrender."

About this time the river had risen to such an extent that it was thought advisable to suspend operations until the next spring. This was a dividing of the roads, and each member had to look out for himself. I went to Mokelumne Hill, staked out some claims and went to work to sink a shaft through the lava to bedrock. The lava on the surface is very hard, but grows softer as you go down. While I was thus banging away with my pick and not making much headway, there came along a Mr. Ferguson from San Francisco, on a mule. He stopped and looked at me a minute and then said, "Young man, how deep do you expect to go before you reach bedrock?" I said, "About 65 or 75 feet." "Well," said he, "by you have got more pluck than any man I ever saw." He went on and so did I, and I have not seen him since.

It took me about two weeks to get so that I could not throw the dirt to the surface, then I had to make a windlass, get a tub and rope, and hire a man to help me at eight dollars a day, and 50 cents a point for sharpening picks. These things completed and in operation, I was able to make two or three feet per day, and we finally reached the bedrock at a depth of 97 feet.

The last two feet in the bottom of the shaft I saved for washing, and had to haul it about one mile to water. I washed it out and realized 3 ½ ounces of very coarse gold. Now we were on the bedrock and the next thing to do was to start three drifts in as many directions. This called for two more men to work the drifts, and a man with his team to haul the dirt to the water, while I stood at the windless and watched both ends. This went on for one week. When I washed out my dirt, paid off my help and other expenses, I had two dollars and a half for myself.

About this time I was feeling a little blue and I gave directions for each man in the drifts to start drifts to the left at the end of each drift. This was done, and we went on for another week as before, and this time I came out about one hundred dollars ahead. About this time a couple of miners came along and offered me thirteen hundred dollars for my claim, and I sold it, took the dust and went to Sacramento and sent it to my father in Vermont. That paid up for all the money that I had borrowed, and made things quite easy at home.

Now, I am mining again with cradle, pick, shovel and pan in gulches, on the flats, in the river and on the banks, with miner's luck, up and down, most of the time down. However, "pluck" was always the watchword with me. I floated some of the time in water, some of the time in the air, some of the time on dry land, it did not make much difference with me at that time where I was. I was at home wherever night overtook me. But finally I got tired of that and began to look about and think of home and "the girl I left behind me."

Woolley, Lell Hawley. California, 1849-1913 or, the Rambling Sketches and Experiences of Sixty-Four Years Residence. DeWitt & Snelling, 1913.

Lell Hawley Woolley

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