August 10th, 2010

To all my relatives of the Oliver Family of B.P. Oliver & Katherine C. Oliver,

This is Katherine’s diary that she hand-typed for her family of eight in 1931. What history is on these pages! I decided to get this into digital form, so I could have Jake Fletcher post it on his site of our family’s history to share with all of you. This is something we should all pass down to our children so they know the charitable goodness and generosity that we all came from. Bartley P. Oliver, Jr., (Pat), most have felt the same way and did an Oliver Family Record in 1969 which I have a copy of. At some point I will copy this and have Jake post this on the site.

I started to work on our genealogy in the 1970’s but never got too far into it. As life would have it, I got busy with many other things going on in my life. Jake Fletcher is a great great grandson of Olivers, who’s great grand- mother was Adelaide O’Neill and Grandmother Helen Anderson, and mother Kasey Fetcher. He started work- ing on a year long senior project of his family history in 2008 and has done an amazing job of researching our family’s history.

Jake contacted the California Historical Society to find out more about the Olivers and found a wealth of information there. There are diaries from Dennis J. Oliver, (B.P.’s brother) and his family that they used to record some of San Francisco’s history. One of the amazing facts is that Menlo Park was named by Dennis Oliver. One of his purchases was a ranch in Menlo Park, and he was responsible for giving the town it’s named based on Menlough, Ireland: “a lovely place on the bank of Lough Corrib two miles from the town of Galway.” All this can be found at the California Historical Society for those of you that are living in CA, under the number: (MS3577). Jake has given me copies of brief descriptions of each diary volume, along with genealogy charts of the various Olivers, which I will copy, so Jake can also post these on his site.

I been told there is another diary that Katherine C. Oliver wrote about her life, but have not been able to find out any other information on it. If anyone does know of this diary and can help me find it, I would love to add this to Jake’s site to share with you all. I also know that many of you have photos of the Oliver family life and would love it if you could make copies to share with all our relatives! At the family picnic, in June of 2002, I saw many amazing photos of our Oliver relatives and would love to have copies of them to pass on to my daughter. I was very fortunate to have all photo albums of my mother’s, Patsy O’Neill Goodlett, of her childhood and one album of the early years at Mt. Helen in Los Altos. I also have a scrapbook of the O’Neill’s 13 month trip to Europe in 1938. There are some interesting shots in this album, including shots of Berlin, just before the start of WWII. When time permits I will make copies of all these albums to share with you.

I also want to thank Jake for all his hard work in chronicling our family’s history. He has done an amazing job and I hope he continues to do so! This Summer he was contacted by Byran Lamkin, a professor of Azusa Pacific University who is working on a book about Irish immigrants who settled in the Amercian West in the 19th century. He is presently in England for 6 mos. doing a research trip to Galway on the Olivers. So there is more to come!

As to this diary, please excuse any typographical errors I have made. I have corrected most of the mispellings where I thought it was necessary, but have left some as I felt need not be changed. If you find any errors which you feel should changed, please feel free to let me know and I will change them. I also have diaries from B.P. Oliver from their trips to China which I will get copied when the time permits. Thank goodness we had such great relatives that decided to share their great past with us!

I hope all of you enjoy this diary as I have.

With warm regards,

Shelby Goodlett Pike Great Granddaughter of B.P. and Katherine C.Oliver Granddaughter of Mervyn and Adelaide O’Neill, Daughter of George and Patsy O’Neill Goodlett

FOREWORD

These anecdotes of our travels within these sheafs of memory will interest you more than what Baedeker’s guide books can supply, of the countries we have vis- ited in our travels over this sea and green earth.

This first and only attempt of a tale of biography and autobiography was begun with the story of my intrepid parents, but after extensive research and prodding of my memory, events increased to such an extent that I found material enough for two books, therefore, this second offering is more personal of the “Good Shepherd and Laughing Eyes”, and is not a public story, so should others than the family care to read it and find too much personality between the lines, please forgive, as I am not an author. However, I can talk to my dear ones and shall talk to them in spirit in these lines for many generations to come, when aeroplanes will be as plentiful and as much used as the automobile of today is.

“The Good Shepherd and Little Katie” realize the evening of their lives has come but is so laden with blessings and good health. Happiness took our hands on Janu- ary 16th, 1884 and has walked with us, with one exception, Helen’s death, ever since. We know now she will abide with us after the bugle calls.

A few words more from a Mother’s heart. Your Father and I have given you our best efforts, and have directed your footsteps in the only spiritual path to happiness, both in this life’s travail in this beautiful world and in the abode of eternity. Heed our wish to stand together always,

Kate Connor Oliver

Back row, left to right, Leo Merle, Mrs. Leo Merle, (Joan Oliver), Paul B. Fay, Mervyn J. O’Neill, “Pete” Freeman, B. P. Oliver Jr., & Mrs. John Oliver. Second row, from back, Mrs. B. P. Oliver Jr., Mrs. Paul B. Fay (Katherine “Kitty” Oliver), B. P. Oliver, Mrs Katherine Oliver, Mrs. Mervyn O’Neill (Adelaide Oliver), Mrs. Charles Brown (Nora Oliver), Mrs. Edgar A. Freeman (Jean Oliver) & John C. Oliver. Third row from back, Patsy Fay, Jean Fay, Oliver (Hobbs) Merle, Jeanne Merle Jr., Marie Merle, Molly Merle and Leo V. Merle Jr. (added to photo afterwards) First row, Nancy Fay, Sally Fay, Jean Freeman, Patsy O’Neill, Helen O’Neill, Billy Freeman Jr., Paul B. Fay Jr. & John Oliver. Part 1

Dedicated to the first soul of this happy family who has gone on, Helen Oliver Cornish. Her nature was so sweet and unselfish. Many little kindness of hers have since then been remembered by her brothers and sisters. She is in our memory and affectionately mentioned wherever our family gatherings occur.

It was God’s will that she should go to a foreign land, China, and give up her life, taking with her that of her infant son’s, little Albert. She will greet us with a smile when we reach the other shore where there are no separations especially if our lives on this earth merit the reward that she has merited.

OUR LIFE IN CALIFORNIA

The day I was born Major Barron brought a gold locket and chain and a splits bottle of champagne to me with his wish that the bottle of champagne would not be opened until the day I was married. It was kept until that happy day, but it had turned into syrup, however, it was tasted by those at the Bride’s table. The locket and chain were stolen off my neck while in my baby buggy during my infancy.

When I was about four years old, my mother, with my brother Maurice and my younger brother Ned, took us to San Francisco as the climate in Utah did not agree with her. My father remained behind as he had too many irons in the fire to leave his interests then. We lived at the Occidental Hotel on Montgomery Street, covering the block where my husband’s office is at present, 100 Montgomery Street, remaining there until my father could come on later. In the meantime my brother Genes was born, we were forced to leave the city as my brother Ned contracted lung fever, the doctor told my mother if he remained in San Francisco another week he could not live. The only abode she could find on such short notice was an adjoining hotel to the picnic grounds in Belmont, where we remained for six months when my mother purchased the Ben Lathrop home in Redwood City, where we lived many years. My brother Hillary was born there, and during our residence there we paid two visits to Utah, when I was eight years old and when I was sixteen. My brothers, Maurice and Ned were sent to Santa Clara College as boarders while I was a boarder at Notre Dame in San Jose, for five years.

A few years before going to boarding schools when I was eleven years old, my future husband came one Sunday to visit my mother. 2

She had just lost her cook and had to spend much time in the kitchen. She told me later that I went to her after the Prince Charming had arrived and told her, “I am sorry I cannot help you cook, but I can entertain the young man.” I remember sit- ting out in the garden with him and my little baby brother Hillary and answering his questions, at the same time eating him up with my eyes and thinking he was the handsomest young man I had ever seen, I still think he is the best looking old gentle¬man I can behold - little dreaming, fifty-four years ago, that he was to be my husband. I wonder if he really meant it when he told me he had made up his mind that day that I was to be his wife. As I narrated in the beginning of this biography, our mothers were great friends, Mrs. Oliver marrying first, she strongly advised my mother not to marry my father as he was quite delicate then, she said, “Look at me, my husband John is a delicate man, being a great sufferer from Asthma, he will likely not live long and will leave me with these little ones,” instead she died of pneumonia two weeks after her fourth child, Denny, was born, in June 1862, when Bart was 7 1/2 years old, and her husband lived to marry again, in July 1864, and raised another family, After her death my mother, living in Utah, did not see the Oliver Family, until she read in the paper the death of John Oliver in 1874. She at- tended his funeral, and seeing Bart and his brothers there, was desirous of meeting him. She and my cousin Annie Douglas, called on him at Murphy Grant’s, where he was employed, and invited him to visit her on that fateful Sunday, the precursor of our happy union.

3 PART II

SAN FRANCISCO

Had I the gift of Stevenson or that of Bret Harte, I’d write my share of praise to satisfy my heart That burns with love and commendation For this fair city with her own true style. Her dash and individuality, her independence while She scoffs at gibes and tells the world “That she knows how” to take your hand And lead you thru this happy land To scores of fascinating scenes.

Like home she has her seven hills. Lone Mountain, her eldest adopted child bears the gift of the padres, the symbolic cross, with arms outstretched to North and South, facing the glory of the rising sun and not oblivious to the setting of the same, from whence the masted galleons came to make romance and historic fame upon her golden shores. She stretches like a knuckled hand and arm into the silvery bay, beckoning to the North to come and visit her.

Nob Hill could prattle long of scenes that prate of lucky strickers from gold hill and elsewhere, grown polished Nabobs but human still with hearts as generous and as strong as such men, who have dared defeat, can rise to achievement still and make of San Francisco’s hills the City that stands alone on the Pacific’s coast in her dis- tinct existence.

Twin Peaks and Park Hill look down upon the City nestled at their feet.

Upon Mount Davidson is a cross that is visited every Easter morn at sunrise.

Strawberry Hill, in Golden Gate Park, surrounded by an artificial lake for boating, whose summit can be reached by a foot path, was formerly topped with a pink stone arcade or amphitheater that was destroyed in the 1906 disaster, It is in the midst of the world’s finest park which leads you to the broad Pacific.

Telegraph Hill, where the first semaphore signaled the approach of incoming ships during the gold rush of 49. 4

I could tell some interesting tales, My story, is that, my maternal grandparents lived on the slope of it, facing the Bay of which they had a superb view. In my childhood my great joy was to visit with my mother this vine covered cottage with a green fenced garden and a little green gate that I loved to swing upon. Our great treat was to go to a zoo garden nearby to buy peanuts and food the monkeys. Now this loca- tion is the little Italy of this Cosmopolitan City. It adjoins our famous Chinatown, the mecca for visitors which I can readily understand and can appreciate their won- der in viewing the emancipation of the yellow race, compared to the lives of their brothers and sisters in China.

San Francisco ever the grey city is uncommonly healthy, partly from her trade winds and partly from her fogs which come into existence from the heat in the interior country, where the hapless inhabitants there would quaff its vapor with exhilaration. There is something in our crispy air that is delicious. It pops our urge to better schemes that bring to life our happy dreams of achievements and desires. “The foam on the wave of life is humor.” San Francisco has it. She proved it when the great quake and fire happened in 1906. 1 remember two slogans printed on make¬shift shacks. One was, “Make the best of it, forget the rest of it,” and the other was, “We must be cheerful today, for tomorrow we may have to go to Oak- land.” When we arrived from Rome a month later, we were shocked at our City’s ruin. We were greeted by friends and relatives with a smile and a joke. They did not favor lamentations which were hard for me to suppress.

Her history bristles with adventure, romance and daring. After the religious of Spain had planted the cross and brought discipline and comfort to the Indians the Span- iards came. Their romances, intrigues and aristocratic instinct have given to Cali- fornia and its king city a glamour that will never be eliminated. Then the discovery of gold changed its inhabitants to the moving band of adventurers, home-seekers and the strong of heart and character. At that time her fair name was smeared with the acts of the ne’er-do-wells, until the strength of the Vigilantes cleared the atmo- sphere and the society of the Pioneers was born in 1849. Your great grand uncle, D.J. Oliver, was a member. My mother came the Winter of 1848.

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My Father came in January 1850, one month too late to be a Pioneer. Your paternal grandfather John B. Oliver came in 1851.

San Francisco has been scourged with some fires, the largest happening in 1906, but she has emerged from such destruction a better, fairer and more loved city than ever. Unlike most American Cities, San Francisco had no modest beginning, she came into existence with a dash, even if she was born as a city of tents, wealth, gayety and luxury characterized her people and she grown into one of the most Cosmopolitan Cities of America, where many races live together in mutual tolerance and where food is good, varied and cheap. As I look out of my window situated on Nob Hill, March 1930, no scene could be more alluring. Even the Bay of Naples, the reflection of the rosy sunset between the blue bay and sky, the distant windows of Oakland and her neighbors shining like so many diamonds against her green hills and wooded Buena Vista (Goat) Island breaking the expense of blue waters like the green hub of the bay Cities. I am look- ing at this inspiring picture with the hope that some day it will be the picture of a great Metropolis.

It is a pleasure to insert in here the autographed poem of Larry Harris on the ruins of San Francisco, which depicts the sorry wreckage but the grit and courage of her sons. It is written after Kipling’s “On the Road to Mandalay”. Put me somewhere west of East Street where there’s, nothing left but dust. Where the lads are all abustling and where everything’s gone bust. Where the building’s that are standing sort of blink and blindly stare At the damndest finest ruins ever gazed on anywhere. Bully ruins, brick and wall# through the night I’ve heard you call. Sort of sorry for each other cause you had to burn and fall. From the Ferries to Van Ness you’re a God forsaken mess, But the damndest finest ruins. Nothing more nor nothing less.

The strangers who come rubberin’ and a hunting souvenirs. The fools, they try to tell us it will take a million years before we can get started, so why don’t we come to live, And build our homes and factories upon land they’ve got to give. 6

Got to give! Why, on my soul, I would rather bore a hole, And live right in the ashes than even move to Oakland’s Mole. If they’d all give me my pick of their buildin’s proud and slick, In the damndest finest ruins still I’d rather be a brick.

PART III

My first recollection of my youth was yellow sunbonnets, and even before my early memories my mother told me I wore them while I was the Baby of the Regiment in Camp Douglas, While just a toddler I wore one of these yellow abominations, my playmate was a baby kid, it did not love the sunbonnet any more than I did and would throw me down on the lawn and tear it off my head, regardless of the bonnet being worn to save my complexion. My name in camp was Brownberry. Captain Price was my favorite of all the gallant officers. I am told I was his shadow, and I have been known to slip into the dining room when my parents were entertaining some celebrities and asking Papa Price, as I called him, for part of his dinner. Need- less to add I was shoved out of the room.

My first recollection of the yellow sunbonnet was my seventh birthday picnic I had at the famous Woodward’s Gardens on 14th and Mission streets, They were a combination of Zoo, Skating rink and Dance hall, nurseries of flowers, and a cir- cular pond with circular boats that were kept in motion by machinery. A platform bordered part of this ring of boats where one was supposed to jump in a boat while in motion. That day I was true to the name my brothers christened me “Fly-up-the- creek”, I was so silly and excited, however, I lost my balance after getting in and fell out on the other side into the water. I was rescued by my brother Maurice fairly smothered by the wet yellow bonnet, my enthusiasm was dampened for the rest of the day, but I was relieved of the bonnet while it dried. How I did hate that bonnet! When I complained to my mother she would tell me the Parrott’s wore them as she had seen them driving on what we now call the Highway. The Parrott family were the Aristocracy of San Mateo.

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Another Incident of the yellow sunbonnet happened at my home in Redwood City when I was about 14 years old. Just back of our garden there was a slough that rose with the tide of San Francisco Bay where my brothers kept a row¬boat, there was a ladder leading down to it. I started down the ladder with my cousin Annie Douglass – later Mrs. William Talbot – to see the train pass over a trestle near by. After getting down to the lower rung I slipped and fell into the water and under the boat, when I came up I fortunately caught onto the lower rung of the ladder, how I did it with the wet sunbonnet over my face was a streak of luck as my cousin was so convulsed with laughter at my expense that she was helpless. Just like Adelaide was in Honolulu in 1924 when I stepped into a hole on Wiakiki Beach. We were both so overcome with laughter I sat in the hole while the waves swept over me, christening my sea green silk bathing suit that was made in Tientsin by Helen’s tailor, it was very elaborate compared to the scanty suits that are worn now.

I wore the yellow bonnets until September 1878 when I left home to attend the Col- lege of Notre Dame in San Jose as a boarder and remained there for five years. In fact the last six months there was wasted time as I was engaged to be married and was a dreamer, my thoughts were not on my studies. We had plighted our troth on the previous Christmas eve 1882 and were married 13 months later the following 16 of January 1884.

PART IV

I AM A MOTHER, THANK GOD!

I shall begin this chapter with a few words of my friend, Kathleen Norris, be- cause I so thoroughly agree with her in her little book entitled “The Fun of Being a Mother”,

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“If I could only add one more to the long list of stories, articles, essays, editorials and novels that have come from my pen in the last fifteen years, if I knew, say, that I were going to die in three days’ time and that this was to be my very last message to the world that has been so kind to me and my typewriter, then I think I should let that title up there stand untouched, I think I would need another lifetime to discover anything that seemed to me so important, so thrilling, so altogether soul satisfying as the fun of being a mother.”

I am so in touch with Kathleen’s sentiment that when I look back and live through my life in memory, my happiest and most joy satisfying moments have been when I looked into the face of my newly born treasure. God gave me sweet and beautiful babies and I am thanking him daily for such gifts. I am happy with the knowledge that they have grown to manhood and womanhood a credit to us. This “little bantam hen” is proud of her brood. May they always keep the good faith and teachings of their youth and feel when the trumpet calls that they have helped to make the world better and can leave behind an inheritance to their progeny of some good deeds,,

“What doth it profit a man if he gains the world and loses his soul”

This world’s goods are necessary to a certain extent. It is very harrowing to have financial worries but gold cannot be taken with us, only our good deeds. Charity does not consist entirely of giving gold. Give and take of life and the joy of giving others pleasure is truer charity, and never feel that you are belittling anyone who receives your gifts or charity. It is ennobling to both. My children for many genera- tions heed this. You cannot forget when you have such examples as your father and grandfather.

When we were spending our first Summer in Mill Valley when Helen was a baby, we became acquainted with Kathleen Thompson Norris, the writer, and her family. They had a comfortable home. I have never forgotten the old horse that they owned and named “Hatrack” because it was so skinny they could hang their hats upon it. 9 PART V

OUR WILD RIDE IN NEW YORK RIDE

On the night of October, 29th, 1893, in a carriage on Fifth Avenue, Lizzie Buckley, Bart and I were driving from the theatre after seeing the Kendals, the famous Eng- lish actors. The night was very stormy, the rain pouring in sheets. We were chatting in the carriage when I saw my husband open the door, step out and roll in the street, striking his head against the curb. Not knowing why he jumped out, I was ready to jump after him. I stood on the step but Lizzie prevented me from stepping off. We discovered then that the horses were running away and the driver’s box was empty. We both screamed for assistance, two helpless women expecting an accident or death at any moment. I was wringing my hands, thinking my husband had been killed and not knowing why we were driverless. We then saw a man running toward the horses. He caught them by the bridle and was dragged nearly a block before he had the horses under control. The carriage stopped at Fortieth Street, in front of a gentlemen’s club. When the inmates of the club saw from their windows our dilem- ma, three gentlemen rushed down the steps with umbrellas, holding them over us,

After we had alighted they assured us we were safe now and not to be alarmed, as we were both hysterical by that time. Fortunately Bart came up to us after running in the rain after the carriage. Seeing me standing on the step with the door open, he was shouting to me as he ran not to jump. His shouting must have attracted our res- cuer, who was a young policeman who had been on the force only three days. His third night was marked with this noble deed, injuring his shoulder trying to keep the horses from colliding with a lamp-post. We learned of this the next morning when Bart went to the police headquarters to report this heroic deed and to reward him.

While we were standing in the rain before this club looking at our glad rags, Bart’s suit and derby hat were only a day old, the “iron” hat likely saving his life from striking his head too hard on the curb, the rolling coachman came up to us apolo- gizing, but his speech was muddled from drink. We then knew why he toppled and how his life was saved, as there is a providence for his kind. He wanted us to finish our drive but a sober one came up just then whom we patronized, driving to Lizzie’s and our destination. You may know now children that all accidents were not by automobiles. 10 PART VI

MY MOTHER – “LAVENDER AND OLD LACE”.

When I am with my Mother in memory I can see her again of medium heights erects with iron grey wavy hair caught up with a gold and black enameled combs - never using hairpins and with flashing black eyes. When I think of her taste in dress, “Lavender and Old Lace” suits her, Lavender was her favorite color. It was forced upon me as a child but now is my favorite color also and Nora is profound in her liking for it. In fact, Conan Doyle declares that Heaven is of many beautiful colors of which we cannot conceive, but that lavender prevails. I always felt when going through the galleries in Europe that a picture or piece of colored art was enhanced if there was a dash of lavender there. Lace was her passion. I inherited many beautiful pieces, especially a black real lace three cornered shawl that is like a cobweb. It is more like an art piece than for use and is generally kept in the safe deposit.

One of her characteristics of prominence was her bravery through the many trials she experienced, especially during her life in Utah and in crossing the plains which could not be compared to the emigrant’s suffering as her covered wagon contained many comforts and she was protected by Uncle Sam’s Army.

One day when she was too adventuresome and wandered too far from camp on the desert, she came across a devastated camp where the Indians had killed all. Scalped and dead bodies lay there and brains on the wagon wheels were the killers had taken a baby by the leg and dashed its head against the wheel. My mother was reprimanded for straying off as Indians were lurking in ambush and she might have been the next.

I remember when I was a child of eight years we were then living in the seven gabled house that still stands in Redwood City. It was a Sunday night and just at dark the front door bell rang. Our old Irish cook answered it. She was frightened speechless when she found a tramp and his pack and a liquored breath there. My Mother came forward asking him what he wanted, which was a night’s lodging, which was refused, but he did not depart. He opened his blankets and prepared to spend the night on the front porch. The cook was in hysterics by that time and we children were on the verge. 11

Not having telephones in those days, my Mother sent my brother Maurice for the sheriff but he returned in great terror as he found another tramp in his blankets at the side gate, Mother said. “Is your father’s son a coward? You must protect us by going for help”; so he went out past the fellow and saw another one at the corner of the garden. He and the sheriff arrived shortly. My Mother went with them through the grounds. When they reached the gardener’s cottage in the rear, there was a light and voices could be heard. When the occupants heard footsteps without, they put out the light and were silent. My Mother knocked at the door and told the gardener to open the door but he said he could not. The sheriff then spoke up and told him he would break open the door if he did not open it which was opened and four other men were with him, The men on the porch and grounds had joined him. The sheriff handcuffed them and the chained gang was taken to the city prison for the night to sober up as a Sunday holiday had been too much for all.

The next morning we children approached cautiously the cottage; our finding was a large knife which we called a dagger. We pictured how our Mother’s bravery had saved us from a raid through the night and perhaps a stabbing. In the course of the morning our old gardener was released from jail and returned, begging to be rein- stated but my Mother said, “No”.

While my Mother and Miss Bishop, her great friend, a relative of the Ralston fam- ily of early day fame, were visiting the St. Helena Sanitarium on Howell Mountain, Napa County, where I drove through yesterday, July 17th, 1928, forty years later, my Mother was taken very ill. It was very crude at the time of my Mother’s visit but now is famous and well thought of, kept by “Seventh Day Adventists.” We were wired for as the doctor said she was fatally ill and must get home immediately. As there were no ambulances then and she had to be kept reclining, we were hard pressed to know how we could manipulate her journey home. Bart drove into St. Helena to Mr. Tiburcio Parrott’s country home and asked him if he could loan us a chaise lounge wicker chair, telling him of my Mother’s urgent need. He was very gracious and offered any chair Bart wanted. He took one from there, leaving it at the doctor’s home in St. Helena, as arrangements had been made to carry her down the Mountain on a mattress in the bottom of a spring wagon. (Automobiles were not dreamed of then). 12

On coming down the Mountain we sat on the front seat with the driver. It was hot and the dust from the usual road then was stifling. I can now see my poor Mother lying on that mattress covered with dust on the verge of suffocating, without a complaint. Her usual bravery was at her need then. My brother Ned and a friend of his met us at St. Helena. After lunch at a restaurant, my Mother having her lunch at the doctor’s, we took her on the chaise lounge to the depot and placed her in the baggage oar where we also rode. In reaching the Ferry she was carried to the lower deck of the steamer. After settling there a coffin was brought on and placed near us which did not brighten our dismal journey. My Mother remarked that one would be her next conveyance. We learned later that it held the remains of one of Bart’s friends, a son of Martin Miller, of the famous Miller family of early days, a branch of the Donner Party. The son Bernard Miller had been killed on the railroad track.

From the ferry she was carried by the boys to a carriage called a “hack” to our home. Bart expressed the chaise lounge immediately to Mr. Parrott.

My Mother lived eight months after her return home.

PART VII

We began our ideally happy married life from the little village church in Redwood City, therefore our life’s history will begin through the portals of that little church, starting our double life at 20 and 29 years of age. We were married at 10 o’clock, the morning of January the sixteenth 1884 by saintly Archbishop Alamany, the first Archbishop of California. He was a great friend of my mothers and of Bart’s Uncle, D. J. Oliver and admired my husband so much he requested to marry us.

(My husband, sons and son-in-laws can respectfully raise their hats as they pass that little church, as it is a sacred edifice to us) My brides maids, were my cousin Etta Douglas Laidlaw (who is still living, A widow now, with a son living, having lost her little daughter who was like Dresden China, she was so dainty), 13

Amelia Masten Manning, (who later married unfortunately and died young), Lizzie Buckley who died September 1930, and Julia Morrison who is still living. They were, gowned in pink and blue and picture hats.

The two ushers were Eddie Oliver, Bart’s brother and his cousin Joe Oliver. Almost a train load of guests came from San Francisco for the wedding among them were his Uncle, Count Oliver, and daughter Cecilia Oliver. Annie Healy and two broth- ers, Bart’s cousins, Robert Tobin with his three sons, Joseph Oliver Tobin, Cyril and Oliver Tobin. Their mother Katie Oliver Tobin, Joe Oliver’s sister had died very young. Bart’s stepmother and his sisters, Annie and Kate, Dennis and Andrew Oliver brothers. My aunt, Mrs. Douglas, with my cousins Clara, Louise and their brother Stephen. Dear Uncle Johnnie and my brother Maurice were absent in Utah. When I came in the church on my father’s arm I could hear an exclamation, “Oh!,” I learned after that the public school pupils had been given a hall holiday and they packed the rear of the church. A church wedding being a rare event in the little vil- lage. After the wedding, breakfast was served at my home and a jolly few hours were spent there. The Archbishop and others went back to the city, where he mar- ried that night, at the Cathedral, Belle Wallace and Mervyn Donohoe.

Bart’s aunts Mrs. Ward of Gilroy could not attend the wedding therefore we made our first stop on, our honeymoon at Gilroy to see her, bringing with us a bottle of champagne which we insisted that she and her family drink to our health and hap- piness. The next day, we met on the train Mervyn Donohoe and his bride. They wanted us to go direct to Del Monte with them but we first went to Santa Cruz then met them the next day, Saturday at Del Monte where we dined together. I remember how elegantly she was gowned in white lace over pale blue velvet, long train, while I wore a simple white frock which I generally wore at my husband’s request.

We began our married life very simply, living in a little flat for a few months then in a simple house until the houses began to enlarge as the family increased. During our married life and while the family was increasing, we had no alarming illnesses. We were just a natural happy couple with no daring incidences during those eighteen years until 1902 when we took our first trip to Europe, which may be of interest to our Children. 14

My husband’s health was very poor at that time and to avoid a nervous breakdown his doctor advised him to rest and a trip to Europe. It was a tragic wrench for me to leave my eight children. The five older girls were boarders at the Academy of Sacred Heart at Menlo Park. Adelaide and the two boys were too young for school, they remained at home with grandmother, Katie and Annie Oliver who lived there with them. Our Tom, Chinese cook and Freda the maid served them. We were away nine months leaving home on Monday, March 31, 1902 reaching Salt Lake City the next day. We visited the Hempsteads and my brother Ned and his wife there, who have died since. We spent two days there, went on to Boston then to New York. While there we dined with Mrs. Gertrude Buckley O’Brien at the Buckingham Hotel, where we also lived. Archbishop Rindan of San Francisco and Father Leval, pastor of St. Patrick’s Cathedral were guests also. The next morning his Grace said Mass and offered it for our safe journey. We sailed a few hours later on the “Palatia”, April 16th, 1902. We had a pleasant uneventful trip until we had a hur- ricane which hurled me off my chair onto my hands and knees.

We reached Naples at 10 A.M. April 30th. Naples and Mount Vesuvius made a beautiful picture. After going through the customs we took one of Naples little car- riages drawn by a tiny pony whose feet clattered along the cobble stoned streets, the sound is in my ears now as I write this, twenty six years later.

After we were settled at the Grand Hotel (the same hotel that Nora and her husband stayed at in March 1930, twenty eight years later). We wandered out into the streets of this city of noisy children, excited frowsy men and bare headed calico gowned complacent women who did not trust their milk man. He had the reputation of dis- honesty, so droves of cows and goats were driven through the streets and either milked at the door step or, the goats climbed to an upper floor to be milked or the peasant would drop a bottle by a string to get her milk supply. Our first day in Italy was a day of exultant thrills to me going in the funicular to the picturesque hill where most of the fine hotels are perched, also Capodimonte Palace and the sombre Castle, Santa Elmo. Some of the streets were vivid with old bright rugs and garments hung on the iron railed balcony of each window on either side of the street and some streets were tiered with long steps where vendors sold flowers and merchandise and made an alluring picture. We encountered a funeral which was more like a proces- sion, with such a variety of habits and the white gown bearing lighted candles,

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After a French dinner at our hotel which was disappointing as we hoped for an Ital- ian one but we learned from experience later that every where in Europe, French cooking prevailed and always one course was “pouli roti,” with lettuce salad. After dinner and while drinking our black coffee, peasant dancers came in, sang “Solo Mio” and danced the tarantella. We met Mr. and Mrs. Bob Hamilton of San Fran- cisco at the hotel who accompanied us the next day, Sunday, in our wanderings.

On Monday we took the train to Rome, where we spent two weeks. The first day there, Dad called upon Monsignor Kennedy, Rector of the American Theological College, to present a letter of introduction written by Archbishop Riordan. Monsi- gnor Kennedy asked if Dad would like to see the Pope, which was our desire, he offered to go personally with him to the Vatican, that he might get a private audi- ence. At 3:30 that afternoon, the distinguished prelate and Bart walked through the streets of Rome, as the Rector preferred walking to the Vatican, passing by the Pantheon, and several churches of which the Monsignor gave the history. At St. Peter’s they were taken in to the apartment of the Master of the Camera, where Bart was introduced to Monsignor Bisletti, the Master. He received Dad cordially and Monsignor Kennedy told him who Bart was and where from and all about his uncle, D.J. Oliver, and hoped that Monsignor Bisletti would make an exception in his fa- vor and get us a private audience. Risletti said that this was impossible, as the Pope had audiences arranged for days ahead, and that there was now in Rome, Bishops and Archbishops, who had been waiting for weeks to see the Pope privately, and that he could not tell how much longer they would have to wait. Monsignor Ken- nedy confirmed this. Bisletti said that, however, the next day there was going to be a special audience given by the Pope to a few prominent persons, that he would give us a ticket admitting us to this, We were very glad to accept it. After finishing this matter, Monsignor Kennedy took Bart to St. Peter’s and all about the church giving its history and telling of all the points of interest. Bart was not impressed very much with the facade, but greatly enjoyed the interior, the proportions are really grand and noble. They kissed the toe of the statue of St. Peter, which is nearly worn off by the lips of the pilgrims. They said some prayers at the tombs of St. Peter and Paul.

Thursday, May 8, 1902, was the great day for us, the day we saw Pope Leo XIII.

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Monsignor Kennedy invited us to mass at the American College at 7 a.m. After leaving there we went to Piazza di Spagna to buy some rosaries to be blessed by the Pope, reaching our hotel for breakfast at 9 a.m. After dressing for the great event, Bart in full dress, I had to wear black, no jewelry and a lace mantilla, both of us wearing no gloves, we travelled to the Vatican in a carriage with two on the box. We were first ushered into a courtyard of the largest palace in the world. At 11:15 we were escorted by a guard into the building after having our cards of admission inspected, after ascending several flights of stairs we were shown into a gallery. We remained there 15 minutes, and were then ushered into a beautiful hall which we learned afterward was the room of the consistory. This was completely filled with benches which were covered with green cloth, and at one end of the room was placed the Pope’s chair or throne on a raised platform about three feet high. We found ahead of us about 50 people, these the favored ones, and they had all the good seats, we were seated about two thirds of the way towards the back of the room. We learned later that the favored ones were Viennese noblemen and their Archbishop. After another wait of 20 minutes, a number of the noble papal guards marched in, and following them came a sedan chair where the Pope was seated, resting on the shoulders of four Swiss guards in the uniforms designed by Michael Angelo. (The Swiss are chosen as guards because their Nation is neutral, and are all picked men of large stature.) As soon as the Pope entered the room we were thrilled with the spectacle of this little old man in white, and white skullcap and red robe, he looked like the many pictures I had seen of him, but his piercing eyes and kindly smile could not be depicted in a picture. Many vivas sounded through the room when he stepped from his sedan chair, he was assisted to his throne by Monsignor later Cardinal Bisletti, the Master of the Camera, who gave us our invitations. When he sat down he seemed tired, as if he had been making an effort that taxed his strength. After an address from an Archbishop and a reply, the Pope gave us his blessing and the Papal Benediction, he stood up unassisted, his voice quavered a little at first but he seemed to gain control of himself and to raise his height a few inches, and then In a clear, penetrating resonant voice that would have filled a room twice the size, and to us was marvelous in the way it seemed to go through our being, he said the benediction and so forth. It was too much for Bart, he was sitting behind me. I heard 17 sobbing and looked around, he was leaning over my seat, while I was standing, with his face in his hands, completely overcome. Then the Pope descended the throne, stepped into his sedan chair and was carried out of the room amid vivas and clap- ping of hands. He died the next year at the age of 93 years, and is considered one of the great men of the age.

After lunch that day we went with Mr. and Mrs. Nixon of Portland to the Quirinal Palace, the present home of the King and Queen and family of Italy. I mention this palace as it is so closely connected with the past history of the church, and because it was the home of the Popes before Italy became united through the agitation of Garibaldi, placing Victor Emanuel upon the throne, the Grandfather of the pres- ent King. This palace contains many beautiful rooms, more modern and homelike than any of the many palaces we have visited, especially the rooms of the Mother Queen, Margueritta, whom we saw many times driving in the streets of Rome with four black garbed bicycle riders surrounding her carriage, (for automobiles were very scarce then.) Over the entrance of the palace is a beautiful balcony carved in stone with a bass relief of the Blessed Mother above. When, the church owned it, it was used as the seat of the Conclave of Cardinals when electing a new Pope. After the death of a Pope, the populace of Rome never knew who the next Pope would be until he stepped out on this balcony and faced the waiting throng, who jammed the public square in front. (Now the new Pope appears in an upper balcony in St. Peters, by the side of the main altar). In a small palace opposite the Royal palace is the home of the Raspigliossi family, and on the ceiling of the main reception room is the original mural painting by Guido Reni, of the ‘Aurora’, with which you are all familiar.

The next church we visited was the Pantheon, the most perfectly preserved structure in Rome. It is hard to realize that it was built before the birth of Christ. It is a wonder- ful piece of architecture, the building being lit entirely by an opening in the center of the round dome. It is used as a Mausoleum for Royalty. Going later into the Pension we met Mr. Knorr whom we knew on the steamer coming over. The next morning he was going, with his wife and daughter, to hear mass in the Catacombs, his nephew, Father Flynn, who had shortly before been ordained, was to say the mass. He invited us to join them, which we felt was a great favor. We were wakened at 5:30 a.m. the next morning, started at 6 a.m. to go out the Appian Way to St. Calixtus Catacombs. 18

We reached there at 6;50 after watching our driver seemingly pushing his poor mis- erable animal along. After greeting the Knorr’s, a Trappist Monk showed us down the Catacombs to St. Cecilia’s tomb so called because her body was found there, in fact, there was an almost life size marble statue of her in the position and spot in which she was found, lying face down, with the three gashes on the back of her neck which were the cause of her death, or assassination after escaping an earlier attempt on her life by locking her in her bath or steam room in her home and trying to smother her. Her house is shown in Rome, also the bath room. Over the ruins of her home is built a modern church, the gift of Cardinal Rampolli, who was very prominent in the Vatican on our first and second visits.

It was so impressive hearing mass in the spot that we had heard so much of. After mass the Monk showed us through the catacombs which were like a maze, the graves or niches of the Martyrs were marked by a little container which formally held the blood of the Martyr. I was puzzled to know how we could get out, we were following this Monk, with a taper lighting our way, we eventually climbed up to daylight. The Monk took us to the Trappist Monastery where we had one of the finest Breakfasts I have ever enjoyed, and everything was raised in the enclosure. Chocolate with rich cream, cheese, butter, honey, wine and a pyramid of coarse wheat bread in thick slices. After breakfast we were shown through the grounds, paw the gaping graves waiting for their diggers, the Monks. We then went to the entrance to the catacombs, where I bought two mother of pearl crucifixes framed in silver for Mother Fox and Mother Gorman, both in good health as I write this. After leaving the catacombs we drove along the Appian Way to the tomb of St. Cecilia Matella, and then retraced our steps to Rome. The next day, Sunday 11th, 1902, we went to mass at the church of St. Agnes, then to St. Paul’s beyond the walls. The exterior of St. Paul’s is not very imposing, but the interior is most impressive, it is quite bare looking in its immensity, there is a high frieze composed of the heads of the Popes, up to the Pope at that time, likely includes the present Pope, one head had diamond eyes. There is a very fine Altar of malachite. The interior is not fin- ished yet, when it is, it will be the most beautiful church in Rome. After leaving there, we saw the spot where St. Peter and St. Paul bade each other good-bye.

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Our next visit was to a church on the Capotaline Hill, Santa Maria in Aracollis where the famous Bambino is kept. This image of the Infant Christ is crowned with a beau- tiful jeweled crown, the infant is literally covered with jewels. The pious of Rome consider this babe almost miraculous. An expectant mother pleads that the image be brought to her home, if she is safely delivered she attaches a piece of jewelry upon it.

We passed by the Roman Forum but did not go in. Just at that time we met the Miss- es Hobbs and Mardon, two English girls whom we had traveled with, conducted by a courier, through Southern Italy, to the Blue Grotto, Capri, Sorrento, Castlea- mere, Pompeii, Mt. Vesuvius and back to Naples. They were looking then for the Mamertine Prison, which happened to be just across the way. We all went in to see it and it proved a very interesting visit as the prison is known to have been used as early as 400 years B.C. It was indeed a dungeon. The legend of the prison is: St. Peter, imprisoned in the dungeon by Nero, miraculously caused a spring to flow by striking the rock in order to baptize his jailors, also that an angel appeared and caused the guards to fall asleep, loosened St. Peter’s chains and liberated him. After emerging from the prison we drove to Piazza di Spagna so that we could arrive there in time to see the Trinita de Monte Convent and hear benediction in the Chapel. We were received at the Convent by Mother Gavin and shown part of it and also the famous picture ‘Mater Admirabiles’. This convent is beautifully situated on perhaps the finest site in Rome, at the head of the Spanish steps. I was much affected on see- ing the habits of the ladies of the Sacred Heart, bringing to my mind and heart our five absent daughters who were with this order at Menlo Park Convent and I shed a few tears after benediction. From there we walked over to St. Peter’s for the purpose of ascending to the roof and dome to get a view of Rome as the day was lovely after the rain of the night before. We were well paid for the long walk, for the view was magnificent and extensive.

Through the invitation of a Father Kirby who had a permission for the Vatican Gar- dens we were able to enter and remained all morning of the next day. These gardens are very extensive and the Pope has a Summer house built on the most elevated point which he occupies during the hot Weather There are also two one room sum- mer houses where he sits and writes or dictates. Many shrubs and vines and a small forest in one place, with ancient marble columns and 20 statues scattered through it makes the place quite countrified. 20

The weather was beautiful that day. We saw two ostriches, a herd of deer, some goats, pigeons and chickens. An old gardener sold me some seeds I afterward plant- ed in our garden at 1800 Golden Gate Avenue, they blossomed there, and were bachelors buttons, pink and red poppies and yellow cowslips.

We went into the Pope’s coach house and saw eight or ten elegant vehicles, which are only used driving in the gardens as the Pope is a voluntary prisoner in the Vati- can. Our next visit was to St. John Lateran, from there we went across the Piazza to the Scala Santa, (Sacred Steps) and went up the 28 steps on our knees, saying a prayer at each step. They are from the Palace of Pilate at Jerusalem where our Sav- ior is said to have ascended. The steps are marble but are covered with hard wood, and three or four round brass circles, with glass in the center, are supposed to cover the drops of blood our Lord shed in ascending, the faithful kiss these as a mark of reverence. They were brought to Rome by the Empress Helena and may only be ascended on the knees, four adjoining flights are for the descent. At the head of the steps is a beautiful little chapel. The next two days we went through several churches of no particular interest; such as Santa Maria Maggiore, St. Lorenzo, St. Agatha in the Irish College where Dani- ell O’Connell’s heart is buried, and San Pietro en Vincoli where we saw the chains that bound St. Peter. We spent 22 days in Rome, then going to Florence via, Orvi- eto, where we spent the day, on May 27th, 1902, traveling with Mr. and Mrs. Nixon.

We four visited the Duomo of Florence (which means Cathedral) - and the Baptis- try, the bronze carved doors of the latter are very beautiful. Michael Angelo said they were beautiful enough to be the gates of Heaven. We then visited Santa Croce where there are some fine monuments, one to Michael Angelo, and a beautiful one to Dante, the Florentines built the latter as a sarcophagus, but he had been exiled from Florence for so many years that the city of Ravenna where he died would not give up his body, claiming if the Florentines did not want him while living they could not have him after death. They built as fine a monument to him in Ravenna. The interior of Santa Croce is more interesting and decorative than the interior of the Duomo. We spent nine days in Florence, and left on June 5th, at 7:15 a.m., reached Pisa at 9 a.m., remained there till 3 p.m.

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We visited the Cathedral, Baptistry Campo Santo, (the cemetery) and the leaning Tower and climbed to the top of the Tower. The echo in the Baptistry is uncanny and mysterious, We reached Genoa about 7 p.m. The next morning we drove to Campo Santo, considered the most artistic city of the dead in Italy, saw some beau- tiful marble figures and some morbid and unique ones. Visited several churches, but they were not interesting. It was in Genoa where my husband made me a present of the round gold locket studded with rubies, inside of which I have two photos of my family, my six girls on one side, my three boys, father and two sons, on the other (it is the only piece of jewelry that the porch climber missed when he emptied my jewelry case.) On June 8th we left Genoa for Cannes, we were delayed some time at Ventimeglia where we crossed from Italy into France going through the customs there, arrived at Cannes at 7:30. Were cordially greeted by Mrs. Nixon, her three daughters and son George. We spent 8 days with them in their Villa du Thyme. We spent a day at Nice and one at Monte Carlo. After going into the Casino to watch the gambling at Monte Carlo we drove over to Monaco where the Prince of Mo- naco lives; we went through his palace and into the Cathedral which was modern and beautiful, built mostly by the winnings of the Casino as the Prince owns Monte Carlo also, which is very beautiful, but I did not like the moral atmosphere there. On our way back to Italy we spent the night at Monte Carlo, in a miserable hotel., my poor husband became very ill during the night, nevertheless) we travelled all the next day to Milan arriving there at 7 p.m., We immediately called in a doctor. An Italian doctor was available who spoke English, having been educated in Eng- land. When he learned we had just come from the Riviera he told us he had had three or four patients from there that year who brought smallpox and scarlet fever. I said, “Doctor, do you think my husband has either of these dreaded diseases?” he said, “I cannot tell yet, perhaps it is only a storm in a teacup,” The next morn- ing when he called he pronounced it acute gastritis. June 17, 18 and 19 were very unpleasant days for poor daddy. The 4th day he recovered. We visited Da Vinci’s “Last Supper”, almost obliterated as a mural painting on the wall of an old monaste- rial refectory, later used as a stable.

The next morning we rose early and ascended the steps leading to the roof of the famous and magnificent Cathedral, after we reached the roof we saw the sunrise all though not a very clear day, however, we had a good view of Milan. 22

We left Milan that day for the Italian Lakes, Italy’s beauty spot. We spent the first night at the Villa de Este in Como, the Villa had been decorated at one time for a visit of Napoleon, we breakfasted in a small room decorated in yellow and white with initial N on each panel. The next morning we left on a lake steamer, having lunch on board on the open deck under an awning. I remember the lunch of roast tame duck was very good, the scenery was splendid, a perfect day. We reached Bel- lagio and got settled in our hotel early enough in the afternoon to hire a boatman and boat, with bright red awning, and red cushions for a row across the lake to Villa Carlotta, a beautiful palace, we were allowed in the entrance hall to see the original little gem of a statue of “Cupid and Psyche” by Cassanova. We then wandered out in the garden on the slope of the lake, which was pink with azaleas, and alive with singing nightingales. After such a happy day I felt the spell of the romantic, spot, we were seemingly on another honeymoon if I had not the happy reality of eight sweet children at home, The next morning, Sunday, we went to early mass at an ordinary church. Most of the natives wore wooden shoes. We left, after mass, on an excursion by boat and rail through the lakes of Menaggio, Locarno, Maggiori and to the village Palanzo, where we had dinner and spent the night. After supper we had our black coffee in the garden on the rim of Lake Maggiori which was sur- rounded by snow capped mountains. We sat there listening to the mockingbirds, in the full moon, and admiring the Isola Bella, one of the picturesque island homes of the Borromean family. If our children visit Europe and Italy do not fail to go to the lakes. I was so enchanted with them they will ever be a bright spot in my memory.

June 23rd, 1902 we arrived in Venice. We’re very comfortably settled at the hotel Monaco on the Grand Canal, our room looked out over the canal and it was such a thrill to see the gondolas. They were painted black in conformity with a law passed in the 15th century. They are the cabs of Venice. The shouts of the gondoliers on turning a corner are weird and melancholy, they call the names of the palaces and churches as they pass. The place of St. Mark’s is the heart of Venice and from this boats lead to life in every direction through the intricate system of streets and canals that bring them back again to the same center. On summer evenings all who desire to enjoy fresh air congregate in St. Marks.

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The scene is liveliest when the military band plays every evening and it possesses a charm of its own. Pigeons in large flocks enliven the Piazza. In accordance with an old custom they are sent out from the vestibule of San Marco on Palm Sunday; they live in the nooks and crannies of the surrounding buildings. Down to the close of the Republic they were fed by public expense, but they are now dependent upon private charity. Towards evening they perch in great quantities under the arches of St. Marks.

We arrived on the one big day of the year, when is celebrated the anniversary of the battle of Sulferino. St. Mark’s Piazza was thronged, the bands en masse, trumpeters stationed on three sides of the square on buildings and on top of the Campanile, musketry firing, distant cannon adding, St. Mark’s lit up with red and green fires was a beautiful sight, buildings and statuary were so clearly defined, pigeons were flying through the air, disturbed by the firing; thousand of chairs were occupied in front of cafes in the square streaks of lightning in the east flashed behind the clouds and dazzled through the rifts, great number of gondolas, all with a light in front and moving in every direction like big fireflies were extremely alluring. From our win- dows one is impressed with the silent streets, no noises but the murmur of voices, no rattling of wagons or cabs, only the lapping of the oars. The finest church, in Venice is of course St. Mark’s, which we visited most thoroughly but I have no in- tention of burdening you with a minute description. The facade is most beautiful of glass mosaic of Byzantine style, with domes of the same style. Over the principal portal are four horses of gilded bronze, 5 feet in height, which are among the fin- est of ancient bronze. They were of great interest to me as they have had so many homes. They adorned once the triumphal arch of Nero and afterwards that of Trajan Arch in Rome, Constantine sent them to Constantinople, whence the Doge Dandola brought them to Venice in 1204. In 1797 they were carried by order of Napoleon to Paris where they afterwards graced the triumphal arch in Place du Carrousel, and in 1815, they were restored to their former position at St. Mark’s by Emperor Francis. We have a very good colored photo of Venice, hanging in our entrance hall in the Francesca, 850 Powell Street. You may look at the picture with more interest after reading about it. Adjoining St. Marks is the palace of the Doges, to go into the pal- ace and the picture gallery you ascend the Golden Stairs.

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The square Campanile, 322 feet in height, which rose opposite St, Mark’s col- lapsed on July 14th, 1902, just two weeks after we had left Venice. While there dad ascended by foot to the top of it one afternoon, after dinner that day we went to its door as I was desirous of getting the view by starlight, but it was locked. While in the square we saw so many children playing around us we conceived the idea of buying some candy and distributing it to them. What an experience we had, seated on a platform where the pigeons are fed, we offered some candy to the youngsters near by. The news that Americans were giving dolce spread like magic we were deluged with the natives, the mothers holding their bambinos over other little ones begging for dolce for them. I was nearly smothered, not being very tall, that I had to fight my way out from the unwashed.

I will not go into detail of the many churches we visited, the long names would not interest you, suffice to add that we loved Venice, found it most interesting. I will quote from Dad’s remarks of her . “Venice! Venice! You are alone. There will be no other and you are worth travelling a long distance to see.”

We spent 9 days in Venice, left July 12, 1902. We took the train from Venice to Belluno, beginning our trip through the Dolamites, the Italian and Austrian Alps. We were at their feet their we spent our first night at Belluno. The Aubergo del Cappelos, our stopping place, was most quaint and clean, with a fireplace in the middle of the living-room, built like a square brick platform about 5 feet square and two feet high with square chimney hood above, thus drawing all the smoke up the chimney and perhaps much heat, with copper pots and kettles and brass warm- ing pans hanging from this square chimney, in facts all through the Dolamites one sees the same fireplaces. We started the next morning on our first diligence ride, engaging the front seats, the roads were good with white painted stone buttresses on either side. We had reached the grand pink snow capped Dolamite Mountains, with the finest scenery, the road crawling beside the Piave River, with intensely cultivated fields on either side and the wild flowers by the road side like a dresden ribbon bordering it. We spent the second night at Piave di Cadore, a small barracks towns a delightful spot, we

25 were wakened the next morning at 5 o’clock by the sound of military music and the tramping of the soldiers, a delightful way to be awakened when one could turn over and go to sleep again. We spent a day at this quaint historical town, walking to the points of interest. All the houses are of swiss architecture, with large rocks on the roofs, (This style was the beginning of my dream to have a swiss country house. When we took our third European trip with four of our daughters, and after spend- ing sometime in Switzerland my dream reached fever heat, and did not subside un- til I was able to build the “Folly” at Los Altos, all though our large family required so much room that I could not carry out the truly Swiss Chalet Architecture.)

We spent 4th of July, 1902, at this spot of loveliness, our patriotism was in our hearts as we could see no evidence of the holiday in this foreign land. Our one purchase there was a bronzini pot, manufactured in the 18th century, of a peculiar metal that could be polished to resemble gold, which has never been tested all though it is one of Bart’s treasures in his library. I fear the lady who sold it was very persuasive, it was the cause of much annoyance as we were forced to open it going into Cortino and pay duty on it, which annoyed Bart very much. We had to carry it as baggalio (baggage) many miles. One was so impressed with the burdens the women carried, heavy loads of hay on their backs almost bent over double, in fact too large a load to put upon the back of a burro.

July 5th we started bright and early for Cortino, a five hour drive of interest every minute, most of the sloping fields were like patch quilts, each little square of culti- vation was owned separately by the different farmers. We reached Cortino towards evening staying at the hotel Cortina, We had now reached the Austrian Dolamites where German is spoken and the kroner is used instead of the Italian lira. The waitresses are dressed in the Austrian peasant costumes, this hotel was immaculate and had splendid food. The little town stands alone in charm, in the center of the town rises the tower of the Catholic church (that religion predominates there.) We climbed to the tower top and had a wonderful view of the valley and the pink moun- tains. We were there four days including Sunday. The church was crowded on that day, the men sitting on one side, the women on the other, all in native costumes. They seemed a very devout people. Scattered all over this country are shrines and crucifixes, some are abominations of art, but they show the 26 reverence of the people for their maker. We left the valley of the Dolamites through Toblock to Innsbruck onto Zurich, then to Munich, by beautiful Lake Constance, We spent a few days in Munich, did not see many churches, but more galleries and beer gardens, a very lovely city, Bart thinks it resembles Washington D.C.

From Munich we went into Bavaria, to the beautiful castles of the mad King Lud- wig II who had a mania for building and had very wonderful taste. He built three castles which we went through, one small one had a floor in the King’s dining-room where floor and table disappeared to the floor below when he pressed a button. When he did not desire to have anyone in the room to serve him the table was set for the first course before he entered, after he finished that course he rang, the table was lowered for the next course, and so forth. There was a beautiful grotto in the grounds of that castle which looked like a large rocks the guide took us there and hammered on it with his stick when a door that resembled rock opened in, another guide inside ushered us into a cavern, walking through the narrow passages we heard the running of water which was seemingly getting closer, when we came upon a beautiful subterranean lake, a wide waterfall on one side, on the other a large life size painting of a fair Venus and Cupids – the King evidently preferred blondes – a boat floated on the lake which the King used when the whim impelled him. This sounds like a fairy tale, but my grandchildren and great grandchildren, it is true.

The second castle was beautiful but small and not so impressive, but the last and largest one; Hohenschwangau is awe-inspiring. It perches on a prominence surrounded by a forest. Ludwig used to drive thru the forest at night in a huge sledge of silver and blue drawn by six white horses, his way lighted by flashing torches, on his visits to his castles he always arrived at midnight his favorite hour. Hohenschwangau is built close to the old castle or schloss of the knights of the Swans there are swans everywhere even live ones in the lake. The interior of the castle surpasses the exteriors the walls seem entirely covered with glass mosaic paintings, the life of Parsifal covers the walls of the main hall. The throne room is particularly impressive with scenes in glass mosaic also, there is a platform, but no throne as the King committed suicide before it was completed. He was walking by a lake with his doctor when he tried to jump in, striking the doctor who tried to prevent him, they were both drowned. The King was a great friend of Wagner who would not have produced Parsifal and other operas if the King did not 27 help him financially. Just before the King’s death the people of his country objected to his spending so much on this mania of building as it was a drain on the country, now the castles are the greatest revenue, as a mark is charged for each entrance. (In 1909 our four girls, Nora, Kitty, Jean and Helen, my brother Hillary, Bart and I visited this latter palace (Bart and I saw the three palaces in 1902.) We spent 8 days in this fairy land and on our drives about saw Oberamnagau in the distance. In 1902 we travelled on the Danube River to Vienna. What a disappointment that the “Beautiful Blue Danube” instead of being blue was so very muddy.

Vienna is a beautiful city with many public buildings, a very fine church is called the Votive Kirsch because the spot where the church is built was where assassins attempted to stab the Emperor Franz Joseph in the neck, but the heavy gold embroi- dery on his collar saved his life, so he built this church as a votive offering. Schonbrunn is the palace and grounds formerly occupied by royalty, but since the war has been given as a public park to the city. One act of the famous play L’Aiglon, played both by Bernhardt and Maud Adams, was laid in this palace the hero of the plot was the life of the little King of Rome who was the son of Napoleon and Lou- ise, when we visited there his crib was in his room, a replica of it was in the play. It seemed fate that Napoleon should not have an heir as this child did not live to manhood, his death was one of the many vicissitudes which Napoleon suffered by letting ambition guide him in divorcing the woman he loved, Josephine, his only offspring was this melancholy figure in history.

After spending nine days in Vienna we travelled to Karlsbad where we both took the cure of three weeks. We met with a surprise. The main street along the river was crowded and bordered with fine shops, ladies glittering with diamonds and attired in elegant gowns were promenading with their escorts, it was a fashionable life, be- ing the height of the season. Every morning in taking the waters one sees the same people, some celebrities were there, David Warfield, Nat Goodwin, actors and oth- ers. The main church was in the heart of the resort, the music was very fine at the high mass. From Karlsbad we went to Prague where we spent one night, then to Dresden by way of the Elbe River, a delightful trip, it is such a pleasant

28 way to arrive in Dresden. We stayed at the pension where Maud Fay was making her home while studying for the operatic stage. We liked Dresden very much, there are so many fine public buildings and galleries. The Sistine Madonna by Raphael, considered the most beautiful picture in the world, did not impress me, I like Mu- rillo’s Madonnas better. The principal church where Royalty worships is imposing exteriorly, but bare and neglected in the interior.

We spent five happy days there, going to the opera with Maud and to concert halls. As I had decided to purchase some china while in Dresden, Maud took me to Richard Whesener, 16 Sinzensdorfstrassee. We went on a grand spree selecting beautiful pieces, when we returned to the pension for lunch we told Bart what we had bought and how much, he did not seem so pleased with my expenditures and expressed himself so. However, he said he would go with me the next morning and look at them, the result was his bark was worse than his bite, for he indulged in seven more purchases. We picked up an old leather trunk and had the china packed in it, through Mr. John Mackey we had the courtesy of the Port of New York, there- fore we were able to bring all our belongings in without duty with the exception of what I declared. Some pieces were broken in transportation, as per agreement I sent back pieces of the broken china and told how many pieces were broken, Mr. Whesener replaced them all and sent me as a gift an extra plate. (When we took our last European trip in 1909 1 brought with me pieces of broken china back to Mr. Whesener and replaced teacups and saucers and plates, enough for sets of 2 dozen each, also 2 dozen of another pattern of dessert plates, a porcelain tea service which I prefer to silver tea service. This china is one of my pet possessions and will be heirlooms for my children.

We arrived in Berlin and stayed there from September 1st to the 7th. On my birth- day we rose at 5 a.m. to go to 6 a.m. mass at St. Anthonius Kirche and left Berlin on 11:20 train for Nurnberg where we arrived at 6:45 p.m. going to the Golden Eagle Hotel where we stayed for two days. After a light supper Bart proposed that we go out to the famous “Bratwurst-Glocklein”, in other words the sausage kitchen, built on the side of the St. Maurice chapel, a side wall of the chapel suffices as partition for both chapel and kitchen, We celebrated my birthday by drinking a large stein of beer. My husband wishing me many happy years and his wish has been granted.

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It is a queer old place, 500 years old, most of the utensils were pewter ware as Nurnberg is the birthplace of that particular industry. Many celebrities have visited there and signed their, names in the famous guest book. (In 1909 we paid a second visit there with Hilly and the four girls, Nora, Kitty, Jean and Helen while tour- ing, the same menu prevailed then as before, it being only sausage and sauerkraut, bread, butter and beer. The girls decided a contest in eating sausages, which were very small and spicy, and toasted before a fire while you waited. Kittie won in eat- ing 18.) In 1902 after we enjoyed the beer we wrote and sent postals of the quaint kitchen from there to all our children at home.

The next day we visited four churches, most of them protestant as Nurnberg is a protestant city. They are beautiful with their stained glass windows, and have a front entrance door and a side entrance, the latter is called the brides’ door and is only opened for a wedding, is elaborately carved on either side of the double door, exteriorly, with the wise virgins on one side, the foolish virgins on the other side. The “Goose Fountain” is a bronze statue, life-size, of a man who sold geese daily in the market place on that spot, after his death the populace erected this statue to him. We found Nurnberg very interesting in Architecture, Museums and castles, including the Tower of Torture, a room containing all the old instruments of torture, also the iron virgin which is studded with spikes in the interior, after a victim was placed standing up in it, the double door, which is one half the figure, is closed, the spikes pressing into the flesh and eyes, the sooner a victim dies, the more merciful. (When we visited there with the girls Jean was quite impressed with a wax effigy of a robber prince who was seated on his chair that he used in life, facing the open door, which confronts one as they ascend the top step.)

From Nurnberg we went to Heidelburg for two days, the famous University castle or schloss is the only reason for visiting there. Then on to Mayence, found the ca- thedral very interesting, having many monuments and different styles of architec- ture. We there visited the statue of Gottenberg who invented type and printing. Left Mayence the next morning, taking the little steamer “Hanza” on the river Rhine which was most picturesque and interesting, with the clean towns of Bonn, Bingen

30 and Coblenz to Cologne where we stayed from September 11 till September 12th. The cathedral is one of the most beautiful in Europe, and is well worth the journey of many miles to see. The weather was so stormy we did not do much sightseeing, preferring to stay in our hotel to paddling in the rain. We started early the 13th to visit Amsterdam, stopping off at Dusseldorf for six hours to visit the exposition which was well worth seeing, the modern gallery contained some of the finest pic- tures I have ever seen.

We reached Amsterdam after dark, in a heavy rainstorm, drove to the Pension Lut- kie, had but one room vacant which gave us no choice, it was very small but clean, the stairs were as steep as one climbs on shipboard and narrow. The mosquitoes were very annoying during the night. We went to the Jesuit church with the land- lady at 10:30, high mass, the next day, Sunday, the male singing was very fine. On Monday we visited the islands of Marken, Brook and Monikedam, the people are very quaint in dress, they have worn the same styles for centuries. They never marry outside their race. We took the train the next morning Tuesday to the Hague to see Queen Wilhelmina open Parliament. After a long wait we saw her pass in her golden carriage of state accompanied by her blonde surly-looking husband, and sweet-faced mother, better looking than her daughter. After the procession we looked for the hotel of our Archbishop Riordan of S.F., and found him and Mr. MeEnerny there. We had a nice visit of an hour. They had come on to the Hague International Arbitration court, McEnerny represented the Archbishop in the Pious Fund case. We visited the gallery after, seeing Rembrandt’s famous “Night Watch.” We also went through a diamond cutting and polishing establishment where we bought a fine diamond for a ring for Annie Oliver, and also got several dutch silver pieces while in Holland. We left Amsterdam on September 20, going to the Hague for the day, passing thru Rotterdam on our way to Brussels, where we stopped at the Pension Neff, Fraulein Neff was formerly teacher of German at Vassar College in America. Brussels is a very fine city, has many fine public buildings and churches, a small but beautiful park, and the Bois de la Cambra. After mass on Sunday we wandered thru the streets and were disappointed to see so many shops opened and doing quite a business on the Sabbath. I found Brussels a good city to get lace and linens, bought my first cloth for 122 francs, napkins for 124 franc, $24.40 gold, of the finest mesh, had them hemmed 31 and monogrammed in Paris later, $6.50, 1 insert this to show you how prices have risen. We enjoyed our visit of four days in Brussels very much, a place I could visit again (and did in 1909 with Nora and Kittie, stopping again at Pension Neff, as good a table and as clean as before.)

We arrived in Antwerp an hour after leaving Brussels, stopped there to see Ruben’s “Descent from the Cross” in the Cathedral and were well paid for our trouble as we both considered it Ruben’s masterpiece. He has painted so many miles of pictures throughout Europe, his second wife, a very blond woman of generous proportions was always his model. I do not give him credit for painting them all as he would have had to live a century to daub so many, some of them must have been painted by his pupils. During the world war this painting was removed from its frame and concealed as the Germans captured the city in the early stages of the conflict, al- though the cathedral was not damaged at all.

Our next destination was Paris. We had arranged to stop at the Pension Morice. Monsieur met us at the station and helped us through the customs, he was very kind in many ways showing us many sights. One evening he accompanied us to a show somewhat similar to our Orpheum, they promenaded in the corridors between the acts, another couple were with us, the gentlemen promenaded without the ladies the first intermission, some ladies of doubtful character spoke to Monsieur Morice ask- ing for champagne, he replied that they could not as they had their ladies with them, they said “Oh! That does not matter, put the ladies in the cloakroom.” Needless to say we accompanied our husbands during the next intermission,

Paris did not impress me so pleasantly on this, our first visit there, although it is a beautiful city and of much interest, but I was not impressed with the moral atmo- sphere, especially when I learned that the text books in the primary school mock at the idea of there being a God, this the once greatest daughter of the Catholic Church. But France’s Paris, is replete with comedy and tragedy, intrigue and luxury, and is beautiful in her Boise de Bologne, Champs Elysee, Place de la Concorde, the Tuilleries gardens and her churches. We made many excursions out of Paris, to Fontainbleau, 40 miles out. The history of France cannot be written without the

32 mention of this palace where four of her kings were born and two have died within its walls, and has been a favorite abode of royalty for seven hundred years. One feels wonderfully impressed when stepping into the area known as the Court of Adieux. Our first visit there was during this our first visit to Paris, (Also in 1909, when on a Sunday excursion there with my brother and our four daughters, the day after Hilly had brought my automobile over from London, and English Daimler Limousine, a gift from my husband which my family christened the “Catherine”, we took our lunch and had a picnic in the woods which surround the castle and where Napoleon hunted during the heyday of his triumphs.)

The courtyard is not the only portion of the palace associated with Napoleon. In one room, called the Cabinet de l’abdication, still stands a round mahogany table on which, upon a sheet of paper which has since disappeared, Napoleon wrote these words:

“The Allied powers having proclaimed that the Emperor was the sole obstacle to the establishment of peace in Europe, the Emperor, faithful to his oath, declares that he renounces for himself and children the throne of France and Italy, and that there is no sacrifice even that of his life that he is not ready to make for the interest of France.”

Another apartment closely connected with these scenes is the bedroom of Napo- leon, it was here that the defeated Monarch passed the awful hours previous to his abdication, Napoleon felt his empire slipping from his grasp, to crown all, the allies had declared they would not treat him on any terms save abdication. Put to that test, his Marshals, Ministers and courtiers who feared to lose the titles, riches and estates which he had given them, left him as rats desert a sinking ship, Under these circumstances one cannot wonder that the horror of his situation drove him to despair, Napoleon here attempted suicide during the night, a few of the remaining attendants of the palace heard cries and exclamations. His doctor Trau was closeted with him after the alarm. Napoleon told Trau the poison he had given produced no effect, he exclaimed, “Alas, everything betrays me now, even poison.” We viewed the bed that he had writhed on in pain,

33

It was at Fontainbleau that Napoleon for the first time spoke to Josephine of the necessity of a divorce. Standing in the dining room one thinks of that ill-fated day, precursor of so much misfortune. It was the 30th day of November 1809 Napoleon and Josephine dined there alone and in almost unbroken silence, they ate nothings at the conclusion of this mournful meal they entered the adjoining room or salon and were alone. After some minutes some shrieks were heard, the Empress had fallen and was weeping and exclaiming hysterically, “No you will not do its you do not want to kill me.”

October 2, 1902, we visited the Pantheon in Paris, With the exception of two mu- ral paintings: The Martydom of St. Denis and St. Genevieves, the latter the patron saint of Paris, watching over Paris, all the other walls were covered with paintings of the life of Joan of Are; being modern I enjoyed them very much. The Pantheon is empty and makes one wonder why the Government confiscated it from the church since they have nothing to put in it and no use for it. They could have permitted the people to worship God there. We then visited the Sacred Heart church on Monmar- tre, which is the only hill in Paris. We were told the church was built by 10 cents subscriptions from all over the world. The Government had declared they would tear it down when completed and it was still unfinished when we visited it in 1902. It can be seen from all over Paris and is more impressive at long distance than close up.

Our next visit was to the chapel of Our lady of Consolation, erected to the memory of those who perished in the fire of the Charity Bazaar some years ago, on the spot where the burned building stood. It is a beautiful little building and, like the Mu- see Gallieres one of the most artistic in Paris; the interior murals and decorations are modern and impressive. (I missed seeing it again on our visit in 1909, but if you ever visit Paris it will be a pleasure to you to see it.) After spending about two weeks in Paris where we had a delightful time with the Cebrian family, they showed us all the places of interests the girls assisting me very much in my shopping, I then went to London, had a very disagreeable trip on the English Channel. Our first tour of inspection after we settled our belongings was to the Cathedral of St. Paul’s. It was so dark in the interior we could see few of the monuments and decorations or frescoes. Externally it is 34 a magnificent pile of stone and its architecture impressive and harmonious. It was like pulling wool out of our ears to hear our language spoken everywhere. London is very interesting but very dingy after Paris. Where Paris had displayed in her shop windows goods and garments of soft pastel shades, London’s windows had harsh deep bright colors or orange blue or greens there was such a difference in the Eng- lish woman’s style. Our second day in London saw us on our way to Bourne End to visit Mrs. Regan Stokes who resided at Fairlawn, her leased house, the grounds covering 1 1/4 acres of lawn down to the river Thames. This part of the river during the summer season is a great resort and favorite rendezvous for houseboats. The next day, October 21, we all embarked on a fine river yacht, and on a glorious morning, we steamed down the river to Maidenhead to get Geo. Nixon and his sisters whom you know of if you have never had the pleasure of seeing them. We then turned around and went up stream as far as Henley where all the boat races take place every year. We enjoyed a good lunch on board, sitting in the sun – unusual weather for England in the fall. At the end of the day we voted we had enjoyed a perfect day. You have heard of and seen pictures of the Henley races in England; so this little incident of our visit there will be a suggestion to you to visit there if you can, sometime, in the future, it is really beautiful and well worth a visit. The banks of the Thames are dotted with pretty villages and fine country homes, we passed the mansion of W. W. Astor, one of the wealthiest Jews in the world; he formerly lived in America, but later became an English subject.

The next day we drove through the surrounding country, most charming, typically English and about as I thought it would be. I remember driving through the Burn- ham Beeches, a very old forest mentioned by Shakespeare in his play of Macbeth, the trees were very old and like giants, The next morning we departed for London staying at the Melbourn House on Bedford Place, That afternoon by appointment we called on Mrs. Stoddard, at the Metropole Hotel, (Mrs. James Kerr’s sister, the latter living on the corner from us on Golden Gate Avenue and Broderick Street, where we were neighbors for 23 Years.) Mrs. Stoddard invited us to visit her at Richmond, a suburb of London, when we returned from Ireland, which we did. The next day we left London at 2 P.M., for Liverpool, reaching, there in time

35 for dinner. The steamer for Dublin was to sail at 8 P.M. We went on board and after our dinner retired immediately. I had the stewardess bring me a hot water bottle as the weather was cold and clammy, fell asleep before starting and did not awaken till we arrived the next morning in Dublin. What a comfortable way to ignore the Irish Sea. Dublin did not impress me, stayed At the Metropole Hotel on Sackville Street. The first day there we met Frank Cartan, from home, he was visiting his old home. The next day, Sunday, we went to mass at the Pro Cathedral, a fine church in Basilica style. At 12:30 P.M.. Frank Cartan called at our hotel and took us to Bray, a summer resort out of Dublin, we dined there in his old home where his brother John resided.

Oliver Gogarty, a cousin of Barts, called upon us at the hotel, the next day, I was quite impressed with him, a good looking young man resembling Dad. He had such a mellow Irish brogue and the most attractive way of talking and of manner, and was noted then in Dublin as being a hero, having saved the lives of three persons from drowning, for which he received the Royal Humane Society Medal. He took us to the famous Trinity College, which was his Alma Mater. In the library we saw the book of Kells. (All the Irish linen I bought in Dublin had the designs of this book, it was a famous book that had been found in the bogs.) Afterwards we went to his mother’s home and had a late lunch with her and the two boys, Oliver and Harry, the latter came to San Francisco whom all our children remember, he died here in 1926. Oliver is still living at this writing, but his mother died a short time after we left Europe. She was a sister of Mother Oliver of Ferndale fame, where Adelaide, Bartley and John, and Joseph, Cecelia and Agnes Oliver were boarders at the Ferndale Convent. (where they went against my better judgment and which I have always regretted. It was a time of their lives when they should have had my care; not because they suffered morally, but they would have been happier.)

01iver is now a Senator of Ireland; is married and a father. Dad and I have never met his wife, but Kitty and Paul spent a few days with them in 1912 while they were in Europe on their honeymoon. Oliver still corresponds with us and sends his published poems.

We then took a round trip to Galway, the birthplace of Dad’s father and Uncle; to Limerick, the birthplace of his. 36 mother, where an interesting horsefair was going on; to Killarney; thence by coach over the King’s highway to Glengarriiff on Bantry Bay; (Where I saw the prettiest woman I think I have ever seen; a chamber-maid in the hotel, with the most refined wistful face, the perfect Irish complexion and violet eyes.) The next day being November 1st we drove to Bantry to mass. We sat in a back pew and every woman there wore in Irish black cape and hood; the same that the Notre Dame Sisters wear here on the streets, it gave the appearance of a church full of nuns with a scattering of men, We drove to Cork after and seeing the Blarney Castle in a close distance on our way, were not impressed. The most beautiful part of Ireland that we saw was the Lakes of Killarney, that vicinity and the ruins of Maccross Abbey. We spent a day on the Lakes and left Killarney hotel in a jaunting car, (the most uncomfortable conveyance in the world with the exception of the Peking cart in China where one is required to lie flat or rest on the elbow, or sit with the head bent forward.) After reaching Dunlow Gap we were given horses to ride through the Gap, by Kate Ke- arny’s cottage, and to the Lakes where we found two men in a boat waiting for us. They were both young men, possessed of much Irish wit and told us stories most of the way; the meeting of the waters of the lakes was almost a magic spot it was so beautiful. A little squall came up on the largest and last lake coming home, which silenced the story tellers and compelled them to use their strength to row, indeed I was very much relieved when we landed on terra firma. We could see the Mac- cross Abbey ruins from the lake and it made such a lacy, artistic picture. We visited it later and found the old churchyard surrounding this old ruin very interesting; no artificial gardening, the old trees are natives which makes it a beautiful natural park.

On November 3rd we received a telegram from Mr. Richard Burke inviting us to visit him at Fethered Tipperary Co. We arrived there after dark, at 6:30. A pony trap and groom met us and after a two-mile drive in the dark we reached the Grove, the Burke home. After greeting and getting settled in our large cozy bedroom with a bright fire burning, we had dinner, consisting of 7 or 8 courses. (I add this item as our dinners here are so simple in comparison. The wines were Sherry, Champagne and port.) Mr. Burke was a widower then; his wife was Margaret Donahue of San Francisco; sister of little Peter Donahue, he has four children, Willie, then seven- teen, Alice, Edith and Dickie, (the latter is now living in Arizona for his

37 health. We called upon him there in May 1928.) The Grove is a typical Irish country gentleman’s home. Daddy surveyed it with Mr. Burke before breakfast the next morn- ing. The custom is to help oneself from side tables for breakfast, where chafing dishes keep the food warm. There was tea, coffee, fish, bacon and eggs, jam, marmalade, toast and brown broad. There was a hunt that day which gave me quite a thrill even if we were only following the hunt. We arrived at the meet, a designated place on the road side, in an open carriage, with Alice Burke and Mrs. Gallinagh, the housekeeper. An old family coachman drove us and became quite excited when the hounds and drivers came in sight, he gave us the points of the hunt. The meet was a picture; the la- dies on side saddles, in long black habits and silk top hats, the gentlemen in red coats, white breeches, patent leather high boots and black velvet caps. Mr. Burke was very handsome in this costume. He was then the Master of the hounds and housed sixty hounds at the grove. At the meet the hounds were flocking about him and his groom who guided an extra mount, then all the riders started across the fields in quest of the poor little fox, we following on the roads as close to operations as we could. At noon the lunch was served at a stately old house, the residence of a very wealthy widow. We were viewing another picture as we remained in our carriage and ate a delicious lunch Mrs. Gallinagh had prepared, the riders had gone into the house leaving the horses and dogs to fill in our picture. We followed the chase again in the afternoon. The coachman, knowing all the roads, drove us to different locations where we met some of the riders who inquired if we had seen the rest of the party. However, the quest was not successful, the fox had taken to cover and the hounds were wandering aimlessly around, it was getting chilly therefore we drove back to the Grove which we reached at 3:30, Mr. Burke and the pack returned an hour later. Thus ended a mov- ie picture in reality which we will enjoy in memory, and we can never enjoy a chase in a modern movie theatre as we did in Tipperary County, Ireland, when movies were not known of then, in 1902. We left for Dublin the next day, after a most delightful visit, thus proving that the Irish country gentleman lives up to his reputation. (We met Mr. Burke again in London in 1909, he had Thanksgiving dinner with us in London, We have seen him a few times in San Francisco since then, but not since he married again in 1913 or 14 and has another family of four children.)

That evening we called on Mrs. Gogarty at her other house named Fairfield, near Glasnevin, to bid them good-bye, saw Harry but not Oliver. 38

We sailed for England the next day, accepted the invitation of Mr. and Mrs. Stod- dard to visit them in Richmond. There was nothing of note in our visit so I will omit the details.

After spending a few days in London visiting the Galleries, London Tower, West- minster Abbey, the Tate Picture Gallery, The House of Lords and the House of Commons, London and Kensington Museums, the latter modern with replicas of all the famous works of Art of the World. The Wallace collection given to London by Mr. Wallace, a wealthy natural son of some English Lord. One of the most unique and interesting taverns to visit is the ‘Ye olde Cheshire Cheese’, in an alley off Fleet St. On every Wednesday there is a special boiled beefsteak pudding which takes 24 hours to cook. It’s ingredients are, steaks, kidneys, pork, oysters, mushrooms and seasoning, a suet crust covers it. The proprietor presides at the center table, cuts the pudding and placing it on the plates of the waiters who stand around him and then rush with these steaming plates to the eager guests who sit in box-like compart- ments. With this delectable dish toasted cheese bread and bitter ale and black coffee completes the meal, with some special scotch whiskey to oil the machinery for its digestion. (We should try this at one of our family dinners. We sat with three other gentlemen, one was Lord Chomondly, a play writer,)

After this repast the Tavern Register was passed to us, we spent a half hour perusing it as it contained names of many celebrities, artists and poets who had drawn pen pictures and added poems and quotations. It was this book that suggested to me to have a register at the Folly at Los Altos, which we had there and in use for 12 years. It contains names from many parts of the world. Needless to say we registered, on Wednesday, November 26, 1902. When we visited there again in 1909 with our four daughters, We found our registration and registered again.

The Tavern was originally frequented by Dr. Johnson and is in the same condition now as it was when the famous Doctor presided. A brass tablet marks the seat he always used and over it was a very good oil portrait of him. (Boswell’s biography of him is worth reading.)

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Our last Sunday in London we went to mass the holy communion at St. Patricks at Soho Square. We dined that day at Richmond with the Stoddards. We then sailed for home on the White Star Liner ‘Oceanic’ on December 3rd, thus ending our first delightful European trip. Our fellow passengers were Frank and Henry Cartan and J. W. Flinn, (the latter calling me Mrs. Chum. My trip home was very monotonous as the four gentlemen spent their time in the smoking room from breakfast till lunch and all afternoon playing casino, the losers of the game each evening had to supply the champagne for dinner, which I enjoyed as well.)

When the Oceanic steamed into New York harbor and neared the docks, we could see on the wharf waiting to greet us “Coco” Mr. Costa and Carmen, his nieces “Polly”, Adelaide Pollock and her cousin Mr. Fletcher. After getting all our trunks and baggage under the letter 0 compartment, the ordeal which we dreaded was not such a bugbear as Mr. E.C. Platt, Mr. Clarence Mackay’s secretary, had sent some- one to assist us through the customs, and if we had not declared on board before that my purchases were $100.00 over the duty allowed, we would have had the courtesy of the port and would have had no trouble. (Shopping is some pleasures but entails much annoyance and labor and depriving me of my husband’s company often, but I wanted to bring my Christmas presents to my family from abroad.) Before start- ing west we bade farewell to Coco and Carmen and saw them off on the Kronprinz Wilhelm for Cherbourg. Bart was very much affected when he embraced his best friend, as Coco was looking very badly, having been quite ill with stomach trouble. That was on December 13, 1902. Today, June 6, 1928, he looks hale and hearty and a better looking man. May he be with us many years.

We reached Point Richmond on San Francisco Bay via Santa Fe at 5 A.M., Decem- ber 19, reaching home at 8:30, and what a welcome we had. The five girls had come up from Menlo Convent to greet us, and how they did look, their clothes were fairly bursting. Nora and Jean were quite stout, (do not resent this Nora as neither of you retained it,)

It was really astonishing how nine months had changed them physically. Jack had grown to a tall, slender figure which she has always retained, and had acquired great dignity. (I predict her daughter, Marie, will resemble her mother in the change of figure, as she looks very much like her now.) Kittie and Helen had changed less than the others, 40

Adelaide, Bartley, and John showed the care they had received from their grand- mother and two aunts. John was still my sweet baby and was saying Do instead of yes, and would say, “Wishing you could be a pussy cat,” he was five years old. (In- sert photo of Dad and two boys) How happy we were to be home with our blessed family. God had given us such good children. If I should write now as my heart dic- tates I would fill many more pages. My prayer had been heard that we would return home safely and find our eight pledges well and happy. Girls, do you remember the opening of the trunks that Christmas vacation?

PART VIII

OUR FAMILY JAUNT IN EUROPE

After renting our home for two years or longer, we moved to the Occidental Hotel on Montgomery and Sutter Streets, which was destroyed in the fire of 1906. (It was one of the oldest hotels in San Francisco and very popular with the Army and Navy. I spent my first winter there at the age of eight years, with my parents when we left Utah.) (B.P. Oliver’s office 100 Montgomery Street still occupies part of its old site.) After spending a week at the Occidental on October fourth 1905 We left San Francisco on our journey overland.

Our departure caused much weeping when their friends bade farewell to our chil- dren but I vas very happy to have them all with me. Our first stop was at Ogden, Utah, where we met my brother Ned and his wife May, who had come on from Salt Lake City to meet us.

Our next stop was at Washington D.C. there we spent five days. We were desirous that our children should see the capital of their country, the most beautiful city in America. We visited there, the Capital, Congressional Library, Corcoran gal- lery, ascended by elevator the Washington Monument, spent a morning at Arlington Cemetery and an afternoon at Washington’s Home, Mount Vernon, on the Potomac. Our friends Mrs. Power and her daughter May, now Mrs.

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Lightle, proposed that we meet President Roosevelt, that they could procure for us invitations to do so during a bankers’ convention to be held on October the eighth. At first we hesitated as we were taking the late afternoon train on that date for New York, but this would be the premier of our adventures which we should not miss. We therefore packed our apparel in the morning and ordered the hotel bus, with our numerous pieces of hand baggage to meet us at the side entrance to the White House, after the reception, to get us in time to the train. When we entered the bus which we completely filled we were a thrilled group as the President had greeted us so enthusiastically on account of our large family.

We were among the first arrivals in the lower long hall of the White House where hung the portraits of most of the first ladies of the land. When the hour struck for the reception to begin, our two boys, seven and nine years old led the procession. Ascending the stairs to the reception hall and marching to the music of the famous Marine Band they were followed by the six girls in pairs, the proud parents bringing up the rear. After the President and Mrs. Roosevelt greeted us, and the children had passed on, he looked down the line of our California products of eight children and exclaimed “Is this all one family,” My husband answered, “Yes! Mr. President, this is my wife and eight children.” Roosevelt in his robust way, shouted, “Bully! Here are three, cheers for the Oliver family.” He told Mrs. Power after we had passed on that we were a family after his own heart. I felt so elated, as if I had been born for this moment.

We caught our train and were in New York before dark. The only mar to our joy was that the New York papers caught wind of the visit and there was a small account in the papers the next morning. We were besieged with reporters from then until we sailed for Europe. Two appeared the, next day while we were lunching, they begged to allow them to photograph us, but I refused besides the picture would not be complete as Adelaide was ill in bed. However, after much urging my husband told them if they were at the steamer, Slavonia, when we sailed they could snap us, After they left, Bart said, “That ends it, they will never think of us again” but when we stepped on board October 17th Kitty’s birthday, four reporters and three pho- tographers greeted us. We had to keep our word hence this picture even the news followed us to Naples, the Italian papers also wrote of the event. We were heartily sick of so much publicity. 42

When I and my eight children disembarked at Naples, my husband continuing the voyage to Fiume and Trieste, I found it very difficult to settle my family in a foreign city, not remembering the value of the Italian money and in getting our eight trunks and seventeen pieces of hand baggage up the hill to the Simi where we stayed for two weeks, in the mean time, taking a side trip to Amalfi which was mapped out for us by Thos. Cook. This excursion consisted in going by train to La Cave, where we were personally conducted to this tiny village’s only hotel there a delicious Ital- ian luncheon awaited us. Later we found three open carriages drawn by the usual diminutive horses waiting to take us hither on one of the most beautiful drives we have had in Italy, circling the shore of the blue Mediterranean, passing such pictur- esque towns during this perfect weather. When reaching our destination, we had to leave the carriages and walk up a zig-zag narrow stone path to the Capachina Hotel, beyond Amalfi, which was a suppressed Monastery, the refectory was our dining room, our bedrooms were the old cells and there were many strange passageways.

My heart is with Longfellow in his verse on Amalfi, which he wrote when he vis- ited there. Each guest was handed this verse after their arrival. Jean improved the moments while she combed her hair every morning to memorize this verse which included quite a few stanzas. The first one was thus: “Sweet the memory is to me, Of a land beyond the sea, Where the waves and mountains meet, Where amid her Mulberry trees, Sits Amalfi in the heat. Bathing ever her white feet, In the tideless summer seas.”

We remained in Amalfi some days until the wandering husband and father joined us there. He surprised us during a severe hail and rain storm and came up the zig-zag path drenched to the skin and stained yellow from tarpaulin and robes with which he tried to protect himself during his four hours drive. The storm spent itself after two days and we resumed our journey in a caravan of four carriages. The weather was so delightful after we started that we abandoned our carriages for a time and walked part of the way. We were all so happy and so full of the joy of living that we loitered by the roadside enjoying the 43 scenery, the beaches and the bluest of waters. The sun shiny sky did not last long, however, for before we reached Sorrento the rain was pouring down, the carriage tops were up, the yellow tarpaulin was again covering the baggage and the drivers were urging their small horses to shelter. We spent the night at the ancient hotel Pap- pillon in Sorrento. The girls and I ventured out after dinner regardless of the down pour. We wanted to purchase some silk shawls and wooden inlaid picture frames that Sorrento is famous for. Dad took the boys for a walk. When we arose the next morning the storm was still raging. The steamer we expected to take across the Bay to Naples was not running, the Blue Grotto was closed and our only hope to get back to Naples was to engage two landaus and return by land through Costleamare, favorite summer resort of the Neopolitans, and Pompeii. We could not enjoy the former but we had spent a day at Pompeii before we left Naples, eating our picnic lunch among the ruins of the ancient steam baths.

The street cars of Naples are far different from those in America. No crowding is allowed. The first Sunday we were in Naples we concluded we would take a car ride. After eight of us were seated in the car Jack found herself standing up while the conductor was speaking to her in a most exciting manner. Not knowing what he was talking about we sat there complacently until a fellow passenger told us in English “No one is allowed to stand in the car, all must be seated”. No more seats being available we all had to leave the car and wait on the street corner for another. I made a vow then that I would practice economy some other way, if need be, and take carriages, always, hereafter. Autos were then unknown as cabs. A few drivers must have read my mind for they flocked around us and offered us more cabs then we could use. Just then, Dr. Carter, a minister, his wife and eight children who had crossed on the Slavonia with us, came up to us. He said he intended to take a drive with his family along the famous Posilipo road skirting the bay and would we do likewise. We were happy to do so. We forthwith engaged three carriages for each family and started off like a procession, a flock of small urchins fancied we must be parading so they tore down three branches, waving them and running beside us, cheering lustily and calling “Americanos!” They enjoyed it more than we did until they tired of following us when we finished our drive in peace.

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From Naples we went to Rome where we intended to make our headquarters and place the children in schools there. The trip of five hours from Naples was very enjoyable, the country and walled feudal towns on the mountain tops, built there for protection, interested the children, however, we were there only seven months when our earthquake and fire hastened our return home, but those seven months were replete with pleasure and interesting excursions.

The first one was out the Appian Way to St. Calixtus catacombs. A trappist monk directed us down them to St. Cecelia’s tomb, the children were quite impressed, I gave a detailed description of the catacombs when we visited them in 1902. We bought many rosaries there and then blessed by Pope Pious tenth.

We spent the next morning in the Borghese Gardens and Palace. The gallery con- tains many paintings and statuary of note, “Sacred and Profane Love” is a painting that has been very widely discussed, the interpretation has been disputed, which is the sacred figure of the two women. The reclining statue in Carerra Marble of Pauline Bonaporte Borghese by Canova, is beautiful she requested to be done in the nude which was the cause of her husband, Count Borghese seeking a divorce, learning she was in love with Canova, she considered her husband very stupid. (On our second trip to Florence we lived in the Hotel Chapman which was Pauline’s old home, the frescoes and doors were her old possessions). Another statue of note was “Cupid and Daphne’. The story is Cupid was in love with Daphne but she did not reciprocate and asked Jupiter to turn her into a tree, her feet and legs had turned into a tree trunk, her fingers were sprouting branches, when Cupid appears running towards her and depicts such surprise in his face when he encounters the change. It was my favorite statue of all I had seen in Europe, until I found the modern group of “Ideal love” which I procured later and have it in my living room at present. In the afternoon we went to the Forum and to the Pincian Hill, the latter is Rome’s public promenade where the elite drive or saunter as they listen to the music in the open. Many of the theological students take their walks there, in groups, each college having a different habit but all wearing the silk beaver hat of the same shape that the Pope wears. Most of the college habits are black, the American college is black with purple magenta piping, the Germans wear bright red. This particular afternoon the Germans were on the Pincio, where we stood we could see this group of young men silhouetted against the

45 sunset that outlined the Vatican and St. Peters across the expanse where lies the yel- low, muddy Tiber, and beside it Hadrian’s tomb on the summit of which is standing the image of St. Michael the Archangel sheathing his sword. In the sixth century after Christ, Pope Gregory the Great was leading a procession across the bridge of St. Angelo to pray to Heaven at the Vatican for relief from a plague that was dev- astating Rome, when the Archangel appeared there and from that time the plague abated. The Pope later, placed on that spot a bronze statue to Archangel Michael.

It was on this Pincio that Princess Borghese, the same beautiful Pauline Bonaparta saw one of her admirers stab his rival, so near to her carriage that the victim’s blood crimsoned its panels. This famous hill, which was originally a pasture for cattle, as well as being a rendezvous of beauty was also a place of tragedy. Nero’s ghost was supposed to wander there at night. Are you incredulous? I am.

We spent happy weeks together before we settled our children in school, the two boys going to a convent kept by the English sisters, situated at the foot of the Span- ish steps. Corina, their Florentine nurse, who could not speak English, called for them after school. She spoke the purest Italian and taught them, they could speak fluently by the time the disaster forced us home. The five girls were placed in the Convent of the Assumption instead of the Convent of the Ladies of the Sacred Heart, the same order as their alma mater at home, who were situated at the Trinita de Monte, at the head of the Spanish steps and on the slope to the Pincio. They did not take parlor boarders and we felt the girls would be more comfortable and warmer thru the winter in the more modern building of the Convent of the As- sumption, but even there the cold was very severe, the girls suffered intensely with chill blains, in fact Jean’s feet became raw in places and she suffered agonies. This Assumption Convent building bears a tale. It is beyond the walls of Rome, on the border of the Borghese gardens, in fact the children played in the gardens, wearing their navy blue uniforms, red flannel capulets, which means capes, trimmed with black velvet bands, white straw hats with blue streamers, they made quite a picture. This house was originally built by an English Captain, rumor said a pirate Captain, he had brought precious marbles from all

46 over the world, the ceilings were frescoed with painted nude women and angels, do you blame the sisters for clothing the ladies in beautifully colored tissue paper drapes? Over the gate entrance was the only English writing we had ever seen in Rome “Never Give Up,” but fate was not kind to this captain, he lost his fortune af- ter completion of his home and sold it to the Assumption sisters, who were formerly in Paris until all the religious orders, except the Sisters of Charity were expelled from France. Their habit is the most attractive I have ever seen, for a religious. The robe is plum color with a white veil and a white cross in front. When they enter the chapel they wear a long white cape that forms a train. Can you picture the grace of it? The floors were inlaid in large squares of black and white marble, the banqueting hall had been converted into the chapel, there are pillars of the precious marbles and the paper clothed ladies are in the mural paintings. Instead of the midnight mass on Christmas Eve it was at 6 A.M. We were invited to the Mass and it was like a lovely picture, one I shall never forget. We breakfasted after in the Cardinal’s room - after a chat with the reverend Mother Superior, who was a Spanish countess, a widow before she entered the order, and Sister Theresa, who was a bright and witty Irish woman and who admired my husband greatly, she was the first teacher or manager. Later the girls walked to the hotel with us where the family had a happy Christmas together, with the exchanging of gifts and so forth. We then went to St. Peters at noon for High Mass and the ringing of the bells. Christmas dinner was a very elabo- rate affair. We had singing of carols in the evening for which we had been instructed for a week. Our day was a very happy one, all together in a foreign land. The sun- shine was very bright, with a wintry tang in the air. After dinner our fellow guests, Juanita wells Huse and Mrs. Marie Hanna invited us into their rooms to see the tree they had trimmed. Juanita made such a pretty picture in her white satin wedding dress, our two boys in their white sailor suits and Adelaide in white were around the tree receiving presents. No lights were in the room but the candle lights on the tree. One outstanding incident of our stay in Rome was our visit to the Vatican on De- cember 14th, 1905 when our five eldest daughters and I attended a ceremony of in- vesting Bishops as Cardinals in the Sistine Chapel. I never expect to see a more im- pressive function. Before going into the Chapel, the Pope and all his noble guards in their

47 princely robes, the house and the Swiss guards including the princes of the church, Cardinals in their scarlet robes, Bishop and other clergy formed into a procession and passed through the room of the consistory which is the room adjoining the most famous room or chapel of the Vatican, the Sistine Chapel. The choir seats are heav- ily carved in wood. On the walls are some of the famous mural paintings extant. One is of the creation of man by Michael Angelo. During the march there was a halt which brought the Holy Father just opposite from where we stood. This sweet old man looked weary indeed. I caught his eye and it seemed minutes that he looked so utterly sad as if saying with his brown appealing eyes, “I am so tired. Why can I not go back to my Venice, to pray in solitude?” His was a simple soul, not caring for the pomp of the Vatican or to be made Pope. When he was summoned to the Conclave to elect a new Pope he bought his return ticket back to Venice but providence had bigger things in store for him, He was elected to be the successor of Leo the Thirteenth. He was the same Pope who received our children in a private audience while we were in Egypt. Nora invited Juanita Wells Huse, who is now Mrs. Arthur Vincent, and her husband to take our place. They enjoyed this great privilege. Nora wrote us a splendid letter of the event which we prized, so much, we sent it to San Francisco to be placed in the safe in Bart’s office but it was destroyed when the great fire con- sumed the Occidental Hotel above the office. In the letter was the detail of how the crested note came to her hotel brought by a courier from Monsignor Kennedy of the American College, inviting the Oliver family to a private audience with the Holy Father. Nora was at first perplexed as the time to get ready was so short. She had to purchase white veils and gloves for herself and four sisters, as etiquette of the Vatican required very young women and royalty to appear in white, She has to take these articles to her sisters in boarding school and bid them make ready in a great hurry and drive to the Vatican speedily. If one has ever been through the Vatican, one can imagine the problem in finding one’s way through the largest palace in the world and can know the flutter the girls must have experienced, The Holy Father spoke very kindly to them in French and gave them his blessing while they knelt. The same Pope, Pius the Tenth, sympathized heartily with 48

San Franciscans in their great disaster of 1906. Just before leaving Rome my hus- band and I visited him. Bart spoke to him in Italian, telling him we were San Fran- ciscans returning home and asked his blessing for the stricken people, With tears in his eyes he replied that he would bless the people, the Mayor of the city and the Oliver family especially. The dear holy man died in 1914, just after war was declared. Rumor said he died of a broken heart. He knew that war was and what man would have to endure, His sympathies were too great. After Christmas I began to adjust Nora, the two boys and nurse in another hotel which Dr. de Veochi had recommended, as we were leaving the children in Rome while we visited Egypt. We had been living at the Hotel de Michel which the Ro- mans called the “Match Box”. The story prevailed that Madame Michel invited young Italian Officers to visit in the evening, she introduced them to young wealthy American girls, if the acquaintance resulted in marriage Madame got her commis- sion, which was a myth, but on account of this reputation we thought it wise not to leave Nora there, although she could not see an Italian compared to our fine Ameri- can young men. However she was so lonesome with the change she moved back to the Michel. I left my family among strangers there with a very heavy heart. Our trip by water from Naples to Alexandria was very rough. I was a very poor sailor, was very glad to reach land and take the train from Alexandria to Cairo. The condition through that country was fertile, we saw for the first time the water buf- falo which is used as a horse for ploughing. Egypt is the longest lived among the nations of the earth, we of the new world seldom look beyond the Christian era. In Egypt the birth of Christ seems just of yesterday, in fact we learned very little of Cleopatra, there, she is too modern. Ramases 11, the Great, is the hero of the land. I expected to see many crocodiles, tall palms and learn much of Ceasar’s and Anthony’s inamorata, but she was hardly mentioned, the only crocodiles we saw were some dead dried up ones in a cave, the palm trees, except near Cairo were disappointments, the river was not Nile green, but very muddy. It is like a silent lazy monster creeping between two deserts to the first cataract at Assuan. Egypt is a land in which the dead alone are great, the pyramids inspire one with awe, ones mind refuses to

49 comprehend how man could build such Colossal monuments, old tabby cat Sphinx with her haunches buried in the sand has an open eyed, eternal stare over the shifting sand. The Cook’s steamer plying between Cairo and Assuan is small but comfort- able, only muddy baths are possible, imported water is used entirely for drinking and cooking. There were eight Californians on board, Mrs. Jimmie Robinson, who was Carrie Hawes, we spent our early childhood together in school in Redwood City, her daughter Elena and her son. Miss. Ethel Cooper, Mrs. Lloyd and her broth- ers James Crosly and ourselves. Mr. and Mrs. James Flood and Mr. Twiggs were in a dahabiyer (a privately hired yacht), we had tea with them on board at Karnak. We visited many tombs, the sacred bulls, sacred wolves and sacred cats, they were then sending the latter as fertilizer to England. We always anchored at night and never left the steamer then as there was nothing to see with the exception of Luxor and Assuan, if we made excursions which took a day we would ride on our don- keys with a donkey boy running beside us, the steamship companies provided rest houses where we would lunch, the food being brought in two huge baskets on either side of a camel, which was always very good cold lunch, we would rest on the large veranda after our repast, then mount our donkeys and reach the steamer for supper. We spent a day on the famous dam near Assuan, then just completed where the Temple of Philae was almost covered with the waters of the dam, we rowed through its portals in row boats. Cairo is a very attractive city, besides being so ancient and having its native sec- tions with covered bazaars, which are so interesting and picturesque, it also has a modern city of English occupation, of beautiful homes, wide avenues and lovely gardens. Cairo is the cross roads of the world. Hotel Shepherd is the most fascinat- ing hotel I have ever been in. Since our visit there another fine hotel has gone up, but I am told Shepherd’s still holds her own, she has not lost her personality. The dining salon is a huge room with a glass dome like a conservatory in which high palms fill the space, the floor of white and black marble is several steps below the door of the main hall leading into it, when one enters by this door, one’s eyes can sweep the whole expanse, the tables were long ones then, seating possibly twenty guests, the chairs were of red leather with a coat of arms in gold on their backs, the waiters were Arabs with white long coats, wide red

50 sashes, red leather slippers and red tarbuches or fez, every guest in evening dress and the room brilliantly lighted. Can you see that picture with me? The meal was ta- bled’ hote, a new comer was shown to the bottom of the table, you were introduced to your neighbors, you advanced to the head as your stay lengthened, before we left, staying eight days, we were at the head, my husband made a charming host, as it were. The veranda was just as attractive, very spacious, the floor of light tiling, its carved stone railing separated the platform from the busiest of streets and was low enough so that the street walkers faces were flush with the top, which made it amus- ing to sit there and hear the cries of beggars, snake charmers, sellers of scarabs, dragomen (guides), soliciting your employment of their services, the donkey boy and camel drivers were not backward. Connected with the hotel was the Ghizivah palace, which was situated across the Nile on the side where the Pyramids, Sphnix and Mena House are; we went there with Mr. Jeramiah Lynch of San Francisco, who loaned us his dragoman and put his carriage and dashing Arabian horses at our convenience. He wrote a book on Egypt while there and another, later, in San Francisco, entitled ‘Senator of the Fifties’ which is the life of John Broderick. We crossed over the famous drawbridge which I will mention later, when we reached the palace it was just at sunset, and such a sunset! The sun was just setting behind the Pyramids and the Sphinx the reflection of the heavens opposite was pink purple and blue. We looked across the exquisite formal gardens over the glass like Nile to feast our eyes on the scene while we were listening to an orchestra and sipping tea in the open. Such scenes lift one above the humdrum of life. Another day we drove out to the Pyramids in an auto which were not plentiful then, and came back in an electric car, two comparisons to these antiquities: while there Bart ascended to the top of the Pyramid of Cheops, disdaining help from his two Beduins, a young Englishman and I rode around the Pyramids and Sphinx on camel back which was a sensation. The drawbridge is open once a day to allow the shipping to pass on the Nile, while open, humanity and animals collect on either side and such a variety! We stood there fifteen minutes watching the crowd of goats, caravans of camels, donkeys and their boys, small carriages of tourists of all nationalities, the fezzed Turks and Arab beggars, the

51 beautiful ladies of the Harem with their sais, and a poor mother with her babe strad- dled on her shoulder, their custom of carrying their babies, the babes muchly cov- ered with the small Egyptian tantalizing fly that causes so much blindness. While standing there we saw some fine automobiles, a great luxury to own one then. I remarked to my husband that we might have one when we returned home, he said: “No! We will never have one, I will never be rich enough to own one”, Does that not sound unique now when one stands alone as odd if they do not own one. The Nubian Sais are like ebony men who run ahead of the carriages of wealthy Pashas and the ladies of the harem and call to passers to clear the ways they inter- ested me although I felt like dirt beneath their black feet when they shouted to us to stand aside for two beautiful ladies, who wore the white veil of the higher-ups, a piece of white chiffon drawn over the nose from ear to ear, enhancing their beauti- ful dark eyes and concealing any blemish of the lower face, whereas the poor sister wears the uncomfortable brass ornament between the eyes, it holds in place the black suffocating cloth. Since our visit that miserable custom has been abandoned. We attended Mass at the only Catholic Church we saw in Cairo, the congregation was bright with red coated Irish soldiers, Erin has surely given up her sons to fill the English ranks. The Muse in Cairo is the most interesting I have seen, the pure gold jewelry is very wonderful, the mummies are very realistic, Ancient but so well preserved, a princess and her baby in her arms still retained the facial expressions, the wreath of flowers on her head of thick hair still held together. The mummy of the King of Kings in Egypt, Rameses 11, who died at the age of eighty-seven and ruled the land for sixty-seven years was very striking in his expression, the death agony was very apparent. We left the land of perpetual desolation and the tawny desert by boat, for Sicily, landing at Messina which we did not visit as our train was waiting to take us to the station of Taormina, from there we took a carriage up a rounding cliff road to the little town of Taormina that has been made so famous by Mr. and Mrs. William- son in their book, the “Lightning Conductor”, it caused quite a boom there, many English buying villas there. Taormina consists of one long well paved street and its adjuncts, the views are never wearisome and has one view that is 52 still fresh in my memory. We stood in the ruins of the old Greek theater looking through its portals past the quaint town to majestic snow-capped Aetna and at its feet the turquoise Mediterranean. We visited the cities of Palermo with its fine buildings and duomo, Cyracusa and Girgenti where there are many ruins of temples compar- ing favorable with the ruins of Athens. Sicily is an island of ruins and if I ever went there again would care only to see Taormina, the gem of Sicily. Bart and I parted in Palermo, I sailed for Italy at night and found myself in Naples the next morning, took the train for Rome and was happy with my children the next night. Bart went back to Messina and sailed to Malta and Tunis where he remained ten days. In the meantime I took Jack out of school, she accompanied Nora, the boys’ and nurse and myself to the Riviera. We found such a nice hotel, Hotel Gunoud, in Nice, where we remained until Dad joined us, arriving from Africa. We enjoyed trips on the Upper Corniche to Monte Carlo, both roads built by Napoleon. Monte Carlo is sumptu- ous and perfectly managed, but again I add I do not like the moral atmosphere. Our next move was to Florence where we remained for two weeks, taking lectures on the different points of interest and the paintings and statuary, there are so many treasure houses of the arts there, the cradle of the renaissance. This enchanting city is the brightest and most cheerful in appearance in this happy land, my mind is overwhelmed and on the verge of exploding when I recall the numerous buildings, the Borgello museum, the Strozzi Palace (on three of the corners hang the famous Strozzi lamps, the fourth was stolen by an American, the replica of these lamps are on our post office in San Francisco), the Uffizi Gallery and Piti Palace with miles of treasure. Beside the entrance of the Palazzo Vecchio stood for 350 years Michel Angelo’s famous statue of David, then the Florentines felt that the weather might injure it, so a pavilion was built for it and it was removed to the Academy of Fine Arts. It was a figure of heroic size (it will always be a figure of interest to our fam- ily, as we brought home one of smaller statue and it now stands on our landing in the Francesca Apartments. The youths of the family have made great sport of Dave, dressing him in modern clothing.) At that time we purchased ‘Ideal Love’ and the Castiline Marble Urn, carved with Women’s and Fauns faces in bas relief, we also bought ‘David’ and 15 pieces of Italian carved furniture, a beautifully carved desk for Nora, a large settee, four Savenarola chairs, six Borgello chairs

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(that Billy and John have as dinning chairs), and a set of a settee and two chairs, which are Adelaide’s now). Reminiscing is a great pleasure after travel. One often finds oneself in memory in some beauty spot and traveling again thru the galleries or churches or on San Miniato hill, looking down on Florence and musing upon its glorious history. On that spot is a copy in bronze of David, our David. No country of Europe appeals to me as Italy does. I carry the hope that I may visit my beloved again. We learned while in Florence of the eruption of Mt. Vesuvius, fortunately we had planned to return to our children in Rome for Easter and reserved our rooms at the Michel, if we had not I fear we would have been as unfortunate as the travelers who had rushed from Naples and crowded Rome so that many spent the night in hired carriages while every bathroom was converted into a bedroom, also hallways. This eruption monopolized conversation at first although there was no loss of life. We were just subsiding from the whim of this angry monster, settling down to enjoy Easter together. Our anticipation was keen as Rome’s Easter is known the world over. I can say we were not disappointed. We attended mass and received communion with out children at the Assumption Convent just as we did on Christmas. After Easter our minds were intent on plans for the future. The children’s school was closing soon as Rome was beginning to sizzle. Nora and Jack were going with their father to Greece for the Olympian games. I was busy planning and ordering summer apparel for my flock which seemed more difficult in a foreign land than at home. In two weeks we would return to Florence enabling the rest of the family to know and enjoy this favored city, then to travel through those enchanting Italian lakes into Venice where we were to remain until Bart and the two girls joined us, then through the Dolainites into Switzerland for the summer. Could a more alluring excursion be planned? However, Man proposes and God disposes. On April 6th the girls came out of school to spend the day with us at Frascati, the fashionable abode of Rome’s aristocracy, just a few miles away, Just as the girls reached the hotel the 54 rain came down like a cloudburst, the trip was abandoned. I remained in bed surrounded with S. F. Chronicles two weeks old. Bart was pack- ing for his journey to Greece when a garcon knocked and told him he was wanted in the office, before he returned Jean burst into the room to tell me that San Francisco had been destroyed by an earthquake and tidal wave and was burning. Needless to say I dressed in a hurry and rushed to the office. There was my husband with some other San Franciscans listening to Miss Michel who was interpreting the news from the Italian papers. The first reports were most harrowing. The Call building was a mass of brick, a man-of-war had been sunk in the bay, the Europeans and Chinese were having a terrible battle in Portsmouth Square, the water mains from the Spring Valley lakes had broken over the marshes of San Mateo County and the water famine in San Francisco was very serious, the latter report of Spring Valley was comparatively true, every one was ordered to fill their bathtubs for drinking pur- poses, the result of this break was the cause of such a devastating fire which meant financial ruin to many. After hearing of this one item of distress I never took a drink of water in Rome when I did not think of friends at home and drank to their health. We learned later the report of the Call building was false, it stood undamaged, instead of the Chinese quarreling they proved very faithful and helpful to their employers and many instances of their heroism was on every tongue. (When our old faithful Tom, our Chinese cook for seven years, left for China when we left for Europe, wanted to return to us when we returned. Bart had placed $1100 in a bank in Tom’s name so that he could return to America, as the only legal reason for his re-entry into this country was to own such a bank account. He wept when he bid Bartley and John goodbye, he had lost a boy just John’s age and also his wife died while he was with us, he was devoted to our boys, they called him Tom Oliver. Before this year was up, his time limit, our disaster occurred, he wrote for another years extension which was granted In the meantime he was looking for another wife, one was promised to him, but when she met him his ugliness so impressed her that she hung herself, he never returned but sent his bank book back and the money was recovered). There was not a man-of-war in the bay at the time. All our castles in the air were shattered, we must force 55 our efforts to return home and securing our bank account which was not difficult as we had it on the Bank of England. We received a cable from Mr. Costa, “All well! Are you coming?”, which relieved our anxiety. Bart said he would go home if he had to go in the steerage, but we were fortunate in getting passage deluxe on the Princess Irene which sailed from Naples, two weeks later. Our departure from Rome, which had grown to be like our second home, was depressing. Bart knew every corner and church as well as he did in San Francisco. Everyone was so kind during this trying time especially the De Vecchi family, the doctor would encour- age us by declaring San Francisco would rise again better for the holocaust, it was destined to be the king pin of the west and with the courage of its people it would fulfill that destiny. When we reached Naples, Bart and the children remained at the depot while Nora, Jack and I took a carriage to pick out a hotel for the night. We had the pick of them all as Naples was empty, drab, and with an incessant shower of ashes from Vesuvius, every few feet was a hill of swept up ashes, not a green leaf or blade of grass was visible, all completely covered with this mantle of desolation. In our hearts we were sad in Rome, but Naples inspired our imagination of what Pompeii’s dilemma had been. Most of the shops were closed, only a handful of Neapolitan’s in sight. We selected a hotel on the hill and collected the family. How different this grey sombre view was compared to what we enjoyed seven months before, we had lost our happy Californian attitude on life and were pessimistic with the dread of what we would find at home, the children were timid and did not want the bedroom doors closed during that night, fortunately we had six rooms abreast of the front windows. We all retired to an early troubled sleep. During the night a rain storm arose, the angry heavens spat forth thunder and lightning and the doors banged closed, however it had subsided by morning. We found the sun shining, the trees and lawns green, the shower of ashes had ceased. With our breakfast we di- gested the latest news of the home catastrophe with a bit of humor, how two sisters, Mary and Jane, were living in a two story house, they were in their bedroom when a new shock came. Jane missed Mary and called to know where she was when Mary answered; “I am down in the kitchen”. How so many bewildered refuges found themselves carrying useless things to the hills. There was an account of the killing of Heber Tilden who was one of our prominent citizens. He had

56 enrolled in the Red Cross and was on duty using his own car to carry supplies when a blundering soldier called to him to stop, Tilden called back that he was on duty for the Red Cross, the soldier did not hear him and shot him dead. We were so con- cerned over this and I asked Bart if he knew him, he replied, if he was the Tilden he had in mind he knew him well. What was our surprise when we boarded the tug to take us to the Princess Irene that afternoon there stood the Mr. Tilden Bart thought had been killed. He was a Major Tilden and came back to California with us. He had just reached Naples when he had to retrace his steps, like so many others. Our journey home was sad but we were so thankful that our family was together. There were twenty-three San Franciscans on board, rushing home. We spent two days in New York, then started on our last lap. My mind worked overtime in picturing what our home coming would be, not having heard yet of the total destruction. What hotels stood to welcome us? Would our friends be so dazed they would not know us and where should we turn? Much to our surprise the same friends and relatives who saw us off received us. They had settled among themselves that we should scatter and stay with different friends and relatives, as there was not a hotel left. Bart and I with the two younger girls stayed with Dr. and Mrs. Oliver, the others went to Grandma Oliver, Mr. Costa and “Aunt Polly”. When we crossed the bay and saw the desolation of our fair city words were inadequate. As far as one could see were bricks, twisted girders and ghosts of chimneys. There being no street cars, three old-fashioned hacks awaited us, which we packed solidly inside and on the roofs. There was no clear street for us to travel over, we had to pick our way over the clearings that had been compulsorily made by passing pedestrians, stood over by soldiers as the city was under martial law. After we passed Van Ness Ave where the fire was stopped by dynamite, we could see the makeshift stoves on the curb before each house and struggling housewives striving to feed their families, the meal time hour had to be during daylight as no chimneys, gas or electric lights were permitted to be used, only candlelight, as each chimney had to be inspected, gas mains and electric wires repaired. We were fortunate to have only one night of candlelight as the electric light went on our second night home. We were very comfortable with Lizzie and Joe’s usual hospitality. All our trunks were stored in their basement, they had increased from eight to eleven. Our laundry was a big problem as there were no laundries

57 available, and the girls and I had to make acquaintance with Mrs. washtub and her children, the Misses Bluing and Soapsuds. After the first shock at seeing such de- struction I marvelled at the people. Such bravery and such rising above their pres- ent sordid environment. After the dawning of our second morning at home I real- ized that I must look for an abode in which to collect the family. I spent two weeks searching down and along the Peninsula as far as San Jose, to Alameda, Oakland and San Rafael, a house big enough to house us I could not get unless I took a years lease which I did not want to do as we had our home to go to later. I only could find Dr. Brewers school in Burlingame where we stayed until we were requested to va- cate as the school was opening. We then found the Ford home in San Mateo where we remained until we moved into our own home. In the meantime we had about decided to return to Europe and not take our home as we had another years lease on it, but destiny had decided other and bigger things for my husband. He realized his duty was to build up his native city, as all our income property had been destroyed. He rebuilt when building was very high. The sound of rivetting had become San Francisco’s own, our ears had become so accustomed to it, the town was painted iron red, some girders rose before the bricks had cooled. Many men went about in khaki and top boots, exhilarated by the tremendous call upon their energies and with all the old pioneer spirit reincarnated, and intensified by the consciousness that they were building a great city. Events proceeded rapidly. In January 1906 Ruef made another mistake in putting an honest man into the district attorney’s office, Mr. Langdon, who was well on the way to clean up some putrid ulcers of the city administration when the earthquake and fire came. Just before that greatest disaster the world had ever known at that time, Messrs. Spreck- els, Phelan and Fremont Older had secured the services of Mr. Heney and induced President Roosevelt to loan them W. J. Burns, then employed by the United States Secret Service, as these three determined men saw their duty in cleansing their city. Heney, and Burns, arrived here June 1906. Soon after the earthquake it was ap- parent that a large part of the city would burn, the pipes of the water system being broken and thirty fires having started simultaneously. Mr. Downey Harvey went to Mayor Schmitz’s office and suggested that immediate measures be taken for pro- tection of the city and relief of the homeless

58 who were already fleeing to the Presidio and the hills beyond the city, all hopelessly demoralized. The Mayor called together 50 of our prominent and reliable citizens, they formed the committee of fifty and proved their mettle. “Congress voted a million and a half dollars for the relief of San Francisco, Presi- dent Roosevelt hesitated sending it via Ruef and Schmitz, but when he heard that Mr. Phelan had been made chairman of the Citizens Finance committee he sent the money personally and issued a proclamation directing the people of the United States to send their contributions to Mr. Phelan. The Corporation growing out of this committee received all the supplies and approximately $10,000,000 in money.” “In October sufficient evidence of extortion in the matter of the French restaurants had been accumulated to warrant District Attorney Langdon announcing that a gen- eral investigation would begin at once. He appointed Mr. Honey Assistant Dis- trict Attorney, and on November 10, 19063 Judge Graham appointed a Grand Jury, which I noticed in the Chronicle but it meant nothing to me as, in my small way, I was absorbed in adjusting my family after an eight months vacation and placing the children back in school, but this event was thrust upon me that night when my hus- band came home with two strangers and informed me that he had been appointed foreman of the Grand Jury and introduced me to Mr. William Langdon, District At- torney and Mr. Francis Honey, his Assistant, who both dined with us that evening. From then on I was intensely interested and had many anxious moments and also learned something of the political condition of the city before the fire. So much corruption had gone on during the regime of Schmitz and his boss, Ruef, that the latter had become careless and too self confident, making this blunder of approach- ing Mr. Rudolph Spreckels, thinking all men have their price, Ruef approached Mr. Spreckels and proposed an odious plan which would enrich the latter at the expense of the city. Mr. Spreckels “woke up” and his realization of the present rottenness of his home town urged him to decide that if the machine would not furnish the money for the investigation and reforms, he would.” The Oliver Grand Jury consisted of 18 jurors besides the foreman who were practi- cally of every nationality. 59

Many of these men had close affiliations in the social and business world, they were forced later to indict some of these eminent citizens) but never did an investigation body do its work more thoroughly and impersonally. ”Like Mr. Spreckels they met with encouragement at first while they were gaining information on Ruef and his tool Schmitz, and the Supervisors, without whose con- sent no franchise could be obtained. The Oliver Grand Jury as well as Honey and Detective Burns thought that it would be an easy matter to obtain affidavits from these distinguished victims which would go far toward convicting the malefactors, at that time they had not a thought of prosecuting the “higher up’s,” but to their amazement the rich men individually and collectively swore that they never had been approached, never had paid a cent of graft money, It looked as if the Grand Jury could not gather evidence enough to convict the machine of anything but the tribute levied on vice.” ”Then it was that Mr. Heney and W.J. Burns and his detectives changed their tac- tics. They offered immunity to the Supervisors if they would give information nec- essary to convict. Not the bribed but the bribers, they agreed and the Grand Jury was enabled to find indictments not only against Ruef and Schmitz, but also against Patrick Calhoun, President of the United Railroads and his manager, the finance committee of the San Francisco Gas and Electric Company, the agents of the Park- side Realty Company, the Home Telephone and the Pacific Telephone Company and the Prize fight Trust.” To quote from the Denman report ”The Supervisors gave to the Grand Jury the facts as to the passing of the ordinance, the payment of the money from Ruef to Gallagher and from Gallagher to the Supervisors, the chain of evidence however, stopped at Gallagher’s testimony that Ruef paid him the money in all but the Pacific Coast briberies and no further evidence was discovered against the Mayor in con- nection with the French restaurants extortions. The question then arose as to the ad- visability of treating with Ruef to secure the evidence as to the method by which the money came from the quasi-public corporations - it became apparent that without this man’s testimony the money bribe givers whose enrichment by the large profits of such undertakings made them equally if not more dangerous to society, would not only escape the penalty which was their due, but that even

60 their names would not be discovered and written in the “detinne book” of the city’s suspicious characters. Besides, without Ruef’s assistance the conviction of Schmitz with the resultant change in the Mayoralty, the police and other municipal boards seemed impossible. The District Attorney had his choice in this dilemma. He could leave the Mayor and his administration boards in power, discover nothing regarding the profit takers from briberies, and content himself with a mere change in the Su- pervisors and a long term of imprisonment for Ruef, or he could reasonably expect the conviction of the Mayor, the cleaning of the city government, the obtaining of a complete revelation of the grafters “high up as well as low down” and the possible conviction of some of them. The District Attorney chose the latter alternative and bargained with Ruef. A written contract was finally signed whereby Ruef agreed to “tell fully and unreservedly all he knew of the briberies and to plead guilty to cer- tain of the French restaurant extortion cases, and the District Attorney agreed to use the power of his office to procure him immunity as to the other charges.” Complete immunity never was promised. Schmitz was tried and found guilty on Ruef’s testimony and convicted on June 13, 1907. He was subsequently released on a technicality, rumor says because in the in- dictment it was not stated he was the Mayor of the city. Although Ruef had pleaded guilty to accepting bribes during his own trial he also escaped the penalty under the decision which freed Schmitz, but Ruef was caught lying by Heney in his second trial before Judge Lawlor in the bribery transactions of August 26, 1908. These tri- als were financed by Rudolph Spreckels. In November 1908 an attempt was made on the life of Mr. Heney. The San Fran- cisco newspapers with the exception of the Bulletin and the Call by this time were indulging in furious attacks on the various members of the prosecution and upon Heney in particular. The attacks were necessarily personal, as they would not have dared defend Ruef, even had they been so inclined, but no doubt they were actuated by fear that Heney’s hectoring methods would surprise the names of the “higher up’s” from the defiant Ruef, now in the third trial. The papers were held responsible for the attempted murder of Heney, but the general opinion is that the man was a hired assassin. His name was Haas. There was little doubt that attempts 61 were being made to “fix” the jury, and as this man had boasted that he soon would be able to live in luxury, Heney succeeded in getting him off the third jury by ex- posing the fact that Haas had sojourned in a State’s prison for forgery. He was alto- gether a miserable creature. On November 13th, he slipped up behind Mr. Heney in the crowded court room and fired a pistol bullet into his head just before his right ear. Heney’s mouth happened to be open, the ball passed between the skull and jaw and exhausted its strength in the soft lining at the back of the mouth finally lodg- ing in the bone of the jaw on the opposite side. There was much excitement and threats of lynching, Haas was rushed to jail in an automobile. When searched, no weapon was discovered, but that night he was found dead by a derringer wound in his head. Whether the derringer had been concealed in his shoe or whether it had been passed to him in his cell with orders to use it or whether he was murdered will probably never be known. He certainly know too much to be permitted to stand the third degrees.” Great was the shook to the Oliver household of Heney’s narrow escape as he and his first wife were friends of ours, they dined with us almost every Sunday. A mass meeting was called for the night of the attempted murder. We attended it; sitting on the platform as there was not a vacant seat. The mob was tense, silent and sullen, several sympathizers spoke and while the speeches were proceeding extras were cried outside that Haas had committed suicide and that Heney still lived. Heney was ill from the shock but the only permanent disability was deafness in one ear. He was a few weeks in Stanford’s old hospital. The whole affair was a great strain on Mrs. Heney who did not long survive it. The prosecution of the Ruef case was continued by Matt T. Sullivan and Hiram Johnson, two of the ablest lawyers in San Francisco, and in full sympathy with the prosecution. Perhaps Ruef himself was not more astonished when he actually was convicted and sentenced to fourteen years in the penitentiary than was San Fran- cisco, so long, accustomed to the miscarriage of justices but Ruef at least was out of the way. Naturally we followed the prosecution with intense 62 interest and some fear, as I did not feel confident that a stray bullet or a kidnaping affair might not mar our happy home. The night the Supervisors confessed to the Grand Jury, Bart phoned that he would not be home for dinner and would not return till very late, he crept silently into the house in the small hours of the next morning, weary and exhausted. It seemed strange to me that my husband could have secrets from me but he said it was heavy enough for one to carry such burdens of graft and crime and the smearing of men’s souls, such secrets were under the oath of secrecy, and for thirteen months he served his native city, doing his share to redeem its fair name. I could see the weariness of it all in the new lines that were seaming his face and I was very much relieved when the jury was dismissed and we could then carry out our previous plans we had made to return to Europe. A coincidence I must men- tion - just before sailing for Europe in October 1905 with the family, Judge Lawlor sent for Bart to tell him he had been named for the Grand Jury. He told the Judge he could not see his way to serve as he had our tickets for Europe, our home was rented and our trunks packed. The Judge excused him but asked him if he did not think it was his duty to serve and would he do so in the future. Although he was exempt from Jury duty as he served his time 7 years in the militia, he replied that he would give his word to do so at another time. When he was appointed after the fire his name was placed in the box twice. Notwithstanding the anxieties, those many months passed with much interest as we met so many noted and interesting personages as the prosecution was a magnet for writers and lecturers. Mr. and Mrs. Geo. Kenyon had a standing invitation to enjoy fish dinner with us every Friday. Mr. Kenyon’s after dinner talks on his experiences in Russia when he wrote the book that made him famous entitled “Darkest Russia” and his descriptions of the conditions of the unspeakable prisons in Siberia the desperation of the wretches, who were doomed to a living death, were blood curdling. If Mr. Kenyon is still liv- ing how can he credit the appalling changes that have taken place in that unhappy land since then. Mr. Fred Beckdoldt often accompanied the Kenyons to dinner with us. He is now one of the Colony of Carmel writers. His stories were very interesting of his old servant who 63 was an ex-convict. Mr. Lincoln Steffins, of magazine fame was also an occasional visitor and was most interesting. Mr. and Mrs. Francis J. Heney were frequent visi- tors for Sunday dinner. After the prosecution we met Mr. and Mrs. W.J. Burns, the great detective. He could hold us spellbound with his true detective stories.

PART IX

THIRD TRIP TO EUROPE

After the ordeal of thirteen months as foreman, of the Grand Jury, my poor husband merited a good rest. In the Spring of 1909 1 left two months in advance of him with Nora, Kittie, Jean and Helen to place Jean and Helen in school in Paris. A pleasant incident occurred while we were travelling from California to Now York. We stopped over in Salt Lake City to visit Fort Douglas with my brother Ned. We had tea with some of the officers’ wives and with some young officers at the Fort. The latter young men used their persuasive powers to induce us to delay our departure so that they might have a dance for the founder’s granddaughters, but I dare not miss my reservations on the train and was forced to refuse this alluring invitations However, when we arrived at the station I was informed that our train had passed an hour before. What consternation! Fortunately, the next train could accommodate us with a drawing room and a section and we were then on our way. After some days in Paris after our arrival there the two girls were pleasantly settled as parlor boarders in the suppressed Assumption Convent on Rue Nito which was run by the old pupils, as France had expelled all the religious except the Sisters of Charity, (France found the latter too useful in the hospitals to spare them,) Miss Petite, their chaperone, called for the girls each afternoon and accompanied them to the different points of interest in Paris, giving them the history in French to im- prove their conversation, but I fear English was often inserted. While my husband and I, Nora and Kittie were visiting in Spain with Mr. Costa and his family, Joan and Helen at that time saved most of their pin money that they might visit the races at the Grand Prix on France’s great holiday, July 14th, the only day that beggars are allowed on the streets in Paris.

64

The girls were very enthusiastic in their letters of their experience on that day, in fact they missed very little on that day or during their school days, only some study- ing, Jean took singing from Dobigne, considered one of the eight teachers of the world at that time. An under teacher, Miss McTerney, chaperoned her at her lessons and always practiced with her. On our return to America, that Fall, on the ill fated Lusitania, while I was ill in my stateroom, I heard a girl singing very lustily “0 Sole Mio.” I concluded it must be an Italian girl’s voice, perhaps in the steerage below, but the voice proved to be Jean’s. Between the interval of our arrival in Europe and my husband’s coming, and after Jean and Helen were settled in school and my brother Hilly had joined us, we saw Paris. We visited the churches, galleries and parks in the day time and at night we enjoyed the theatres, Maxims and Foli Bergere, both places over rated. After leav- ing the Foli Bergere one evening, Nora and Kittie declared they could walk the streets of Paris at night without being molested so, they walked ahead of Hilly and me. What was my consternation to see two young men overtaking the girls and walking with them. Naturally we quickened our steps with many misgivings when we discovered the young men were Paula and Bob de Vecchi. They recognized the girls and wanted to know why they were walking alone, not seeing us in the rear. Before Dads arrival Kittie, Nora and I took a trip to Brussels, Bruges and Ostende in Belgium. We spent a day in Waterloo, visiting the pavilion that housed the pic- ture of the “Battle of Waterloo”. We returned to Paris in time for the arrival of Bart, Carmen and Mr. Costa. After spending a few days together in Paris we started with great anticipations for Spain. Irresistible Spain! Not to be surpassed by any other country, I swear! Skirted by the classic Mediterranean, the rugged mountains and savage plains are winning in their severity, She can boast of the finest Cathedrals of the world. Her galleries are marvels, especially the modern gallery of Madrid which is the finest I have ever visited during our travels in Europe. Mr. Costa (Tio), his niece Carmen Artel, who is now Mrs. Canivell, my husband, Nora, Kittie and I left 65

Paris on our trip to Spain which proved to be a most enjoyable one on June 7th 1909 we crossed the majestic Pyrenees, the boundary mountains between France and Spain, and such mountains! - glorious in their vistas while one gradually ascends and can look down to the central plateau of Spain, which in places is very high above the level of the sea. The first city of importance we visited was Barcelona. I was not so impressed with the architecture of the modern art nouveau homes. They marred the beautiful ram- bler sometimes called prado, which is a wide parked promenade for man and beast and is the principal street of Spain’s important cities, where one can then see the wealth and aristocracy of each city, driving every late afternoon in their open car- riages with their spanking team of horses and gold monogrammed harness. Auto- mobiles were very scarce in Spain in 1909. The less fortunate were promenaders who enjoyed greeting their friends on foot and resting under the stately trees. Those hours after the afternoon’s siesta mark the time of relaxation for the Latin people, as I have seen the same pleasurable exercise enjoyed also in Rome, Florence, City of Mexico, Panama, Havana and Palero, Sicily. We had two delightful excursions dur- ing our stay in Barcelona, A day spent on the Tibidabo Mountain which is reached by a funicular railroad. This mecca for picnickers and newlyweds commands a vast view of the city and surrounding country, our other excursion has left a very pleasant memory as we spent two days at Montserratt, another mountainous spot a few hours’ distance from BarceIona, and is reached by another funicular. The little village perched on this hillside does not know a hotel but any wayfarer is welcome at the monastery, where slept in the monks’ cells. They ask no remuneration but gratuities to the poor are acceptable. The mountain tops were like inverted stalac- tites resembling a skyline of cathedral spires. An extended path led from the village along the hillside and back, with choice little shrines at intervals. It was on this path that Wagner was inspired to create the story of the “Holy Grail”, his last and most beautiful opera Darsifal. He loved this opera so that he requested it should never be performed beyond the limits of Bayreuth but it has been sung elsewhere since, even in America. After returning to Barcelona we had the courage to go to a bull fight but the courage did not last long, as you will know later. Mr. Costa, my husband, Nora, Kittie and I

66 ventured into the amphitheater which resembles our open air stadiums for footballs We found our box was quite high from the arena which assured us of safety from the raging bulls, We also found ourselves very close to the box of the Governor of the spectacle, who plays his part at the end of the procession that starts when the shrill trumpet blast is sounded which sends a thrill up the spinal cord and silences the ten thousand spectators to a dead quiet of expectations Through the principal entrance marched the actors of the coming tragedy. First rode two picadores, lance in hand and dressed in brilliant colors. Then came the chulos, wearing on their arms the scarlet cloaks with which it is their duty to infuriate the bull. They were followed by four banderilleros. Last of all there appeared in the place of honor the matador, who gave the bull his death blow. The costume of this man was peculiar. He wears the short breeches as do the others, with the exception of the picadores, also silk stockings. The vests and jackets are embroidered in gold and silver) all wearing the hair in a pig tail. After the procession had crossed the arenas it halted, after the manner of the Roman gladiators, before the royal box and made a salutation, then it completed the circuit of the ring and the matadore retired from the arena while the others took various positions within the barrier; which is a low fence surrounding the ring and about three feet before the lower seats of the audience. Two officers, dressed in black vel- vet with long black plumes on their hats, now rode in and saluting before our boxes asked permission of the Governor of the spectacle to admit the bulls The Governor then threw to them the key of the den where the bull had been confined in the dark for a day. They rode rapidly across the arena and handed the key to the keeper of the dark cell who threw open the gates when an iron grey bull darted forth. He spied the chulos with the red tantalizing capes and lowering his head, dashed furiously at them. Nimble as squirrels, these men leaped lightly over the barrier while the bull stopped with a violent shock within a foot of their retreating heels. With a snort that denoted mischief he glared around him. Twenty feet away he spied a picador on the back of a blinded poor emaciated horse who was only fit for a peaceful death in the bone yards instead of the cruel death that my fascinated eyes could not resist witnessing. As the bull stampeded toward them, his nostrils dilated and snorting, his eyes bulging as he embedded his two horns into the groin and

67 stomach of the horse before the picador could insert his lance deep enough into the bull’s shoulder to save his horse, but the lance irritated the bull so much that he withdrew his dripping horns and then with another furious plunge, lifted horse and rider and rolled them in the dust. Ten thousand voices cheered and with shouts of, “Bravo Toro, Bravo Toro.” (bull) This infuriated beast drew back and prepared for another attack which would have meant certain death to the picador who was lying helpless by the side of his dying horse, who went out with a final quiver. Just then the chulos came to the rescue. They flaunted their red cloaks in his face which drew his attention to themselves while the picador was being assisted to his feet as his legs were encased in heavy iron to protect them from the bull’s horns. The chulos tempted the bull here and there until he found another horse to gore, in fact, two more horses, killing three in all before he was dispatched. The first killing was all that we could bear to witness. When we saw Mr. Bull run towards another poor animal we lifted our fans. Of course, we had to use fans in Spain. We knew when the bull reached his goal by the deadly silence. By that time the bull was showing exhaustion and the Governor detected with his practiced eye the mo- ment for a change of tactics; so he gave the signal which was followed by a blast from the trumpet and the picadores withdrew from the arena. The chulos now came forward and took a more decided part in the contests performing some very brave feats. One of them came out to meet the bull as if he were to encounter a pet dog, My heart stood still for a moment at the man’s audacity. On came the bull, his horns pointing at his daring foe and just when we thought he was lost, the chulo planted his foot between the animal’s horns and took a flying leap and landed safely on his feet, much to the surprise of the bull who turned to see his intended victim. He made another dart with an air of certain victory, but this brave man had secured a pole and leaped for life above the bull’s eyes. Of course, by this time the poor beast was indeed wearied. The trumpet sounded again and the banderilleros made their appearance to even greater feats and more daring. Their duty was to thrust into Mr. Bull’s shoulders, shafts, 2 feet long wrapped with colored ribbons of paper, at one ends and on the other end were twisted barbs like fish hooks which the tortured beast cannot shake off much as he tries. The banderilleros plunge them in his shoul- ders as he lowers his head to make a dash at his tormentors. After many shafts had penetrated

68 the quivering flesh, with many crimson trickles flowing down his legs from his shoulders and his eyes nearly blinded by another blood stream, there was another trumpet call which was the signal for the final act. The matador entered the arena and being a special favorite of the publics he was greeted with exultant cheers. With slow and deliberate steps this favorite of the peo- ple and pet of the ladies, advanced to the royal box and asked permission to kill the bull in a way that would do honor to all Spain. This being granted, he turned around and faced the bull, In one hand he carried a small red cloaks in the other a straight Toledo blades All eyes were focused upon him, thousands of hearts were beating with excitements the silence was impressive. After a few tense moments he moved within a few feet of his nearly spent and agonized prey and as he was parrying with the red cloaks the bull made a rush forward which was what the matador desired. Instead of leaping aside he planted his feet firmly and thrust the Toledo blade as if by magic between the shoulders and the neck which pierced the heart. The beast halted, staggered a few steps and fell at his conqueror’s feet dead. Thunders of applause greeted this deed of bravery. After much bowing the matador withdrew. In three minutes the bodies of the horses and the bull had been removed by a train of four mules with tinkling bells and all were ready for a new combats. Just then I heard a voice behind me exclaiming, “I shall meet you at the hotels” I looked up it was my husband’s voice. He was ashen, pale and trembling. How brazen I was not to feel the same way. The rest of our party did not seem ready to leave so we sat complacently enjoying the scene about us. Opposite us was the sunny side of the arena. We Californians cannot appreciate the power of the sun in Spain. The Spaniards who have to sit there call it “Hell”. There are a few choice seats of partial shade called “Purgatory”. We were seated in “Paradise”. The whole scene was fluttering as the use of the fan is almost the most used article of apparel among the Spanish females, old, young and very young, and how gracefully they can manipulate it. We enjoyed watching and discussing some very attractive and interesting Spaniards in the boxes about us. 69

When the trumpet sounded again the don belched forth another victim. This majes- tic bull bounded out into the daylight with lowered head until he reached the center of the arena. He then raised his head and tail and snorted at the brilliant scene and the shouts about him another bloody combat began. It seemed more cruel than the first as four horses gave up the ghost, in order to satisfy the populace in ways I could not narrate. At the end of the second killing of the bull Mr, Costa asked me if we wished to leave. I requested that we wait until the third bull would enter the arena which is one sight of a beautiful animal born and raised for a certain defeat. There are always six bulls sacrificed but we had had all we wanted of Spain’s national sport and drove silently back to our hotel somewhat depressed by the afternoon’s entertainment. No doubts our prizefights seem worse to the Spaniards as the combat is between human beings. Of course, the prizefight is a test of endurance and is considered a manly sport. If one of the pugilists meets death it is an unintentional accident, whereas a bull fight means death ultimately. However, we came to the conclusion that the love of this sport was in the blood of the Spanish people. It was as alluring to the child of the well-born as it was to the street urchin. While in San Sebastian, the fashionable seashore resort we noticed a bull’s head made of wicker and the red cloaks were the toys of the aristocratic children while the urchin played Toro with a discarded bull’s horns, and a tattered red rag. Wher- ever we went in Spain we were reminded of this sport of Kings. In Saragossa we were shown through the amphitheater and saw the banderilleros being made, also the picadors, poles. We wandered out into the empty arena, gazing at the vacant seats while Bart played Toro with Alfredo Garcia. A chair for the bull and the ever present red cloth. Nearing the conclusion of our travels in Spain my husband regretted he had not seen a completed bull fight as we were being inoculated with the sport, but we had then visited the principal cities and the opportunity was passed. If we felt we had the courage to sit out another bull fight, it did not equal our enthusiasm for a Spanish dance which we would seek on our arrival in each city and eagerly enjoyed some real treats. Spain and her people are very appealing to me both here and there. 70

From Barcelona we travelled to Madrid and found on the dining car the same pile of light blue plates before us, knowing by their number how many courses we could expect for the meal. On the train cold plates made little difference but at the hotel I asserted my crankiness in objecting to eating warm food on cold plates, so dear Mr. Costa saw to our comfort so unselfishly that we had hot plates throughout Spain. Madrid, the capital, is an alluring city with a beautiful prado or rambler, parks, fine public buildings and hotels. The King’s palace is an imposing structure of stone. Our Fairmont is a fair copy of it, where the Fairmont slopes down to Powell Street and to the Bay. The King’s gardens slope many miles away to a forest where there is royal hunting. We went through the royal stables of the palace. It seemed as if we passed miles of horses and mules. We also passed through the carriage house where we saw ancient carriages of state down to the limousine of the present Queen Victoria. Madrid can boast of one of the world’s choicest galleries of famous masters. It contains forty six paintings by Murillo, our favorite painters ten by Raphael, six- teen by Guido Rene, forty-three by Titian, sixty-four by Velasquez, whom Phillip II called his only painters twenty-five by Paul Veroneses thirty-four by Tintoretta and sixty four by Rubens. These names may be like Greek to the grandchildren but our girls have seen the work of these artists in Franco and Italy. Most of Murrillo’s paintings are in Spain, although the Louvre of Paris houses one of his best, the “Im- maculate Conception” which represents the Madonna standing on a silver crescent surrounded by garlands of cherubs whose faces fade away into atmosphere. A very fine copy of this picture hangs behind the main altar of old St. Mary’s Church of the Paulist Fathers on California Street and Grant Avenue. The Spaniards claim that Murillo painted his flesh tints with milk and blood. A visit to this gallery is a day or morning very well spent; in fact it is an epoch in one’s life. The next day was not spent so pleasantly, as we visited the Escorial, twenty miles distant from Madrid, This huge pile of masonry was built by Phillip II. It is one of the largest buildings in the world; in fact the Spaniards consider it one of the won- ders of the world. If it is the largest, it is also the gloomiest, harboring no warmth for the body or for the spirit. It is the 71 sepulchre of Spain’s royalty, the Pantheon. My memory is still fresh of the pierc- ing cold, and the building seemed baranacled with icy death. The deathlike chill increases as you wander for miles through the corridors, the chapel and through the room where Phillip II lived and died. How this man with a fish’s heart lived in this massive refrigerator cannot be comprehended by this present generation of warmth and luxury. My advice to my family is to see Spain by all means but if you ever have the curiosity to visit this monstrous heap, take my advice and prepare for the North Pole and bring a bottle of brandy. The trip there and back is monotonous, see- ing the bull farms and many bulls waiting for their destruction was the only thrill. Coco, Bart and I were out of humor when the day was over. The girls had a happier day with Carmen, her mother and brother. The next day we visited Toledo, her Cathedrals, and Alcazar in ruins. On our way from Madrid to Granada we spent a few hours in Cordova, a city of past glory of the Moors before they lost it to the Spaniards. The reason for our alighting there from the train was to see the Mosque which had been so disfigured by the Christians after they had driven out the Moors. When we entered the Mosque I was so bewildered with so many sculptured arches and had seen so many churches, I proposed to the girls that we take a drive instead as Nora was recovering from a sick spell she had had in Madrid and could not walk. It was on this drive that Kittie first saw the To- reador, who was an incident in our travels through Spain. He passed us in another carriage. We knew that he was one of Spain’s heros by the earmarks of the straight brimmed hat of silk beaver and the little pig tail. He smiled at the girls, perhaps that is a custom of Spain and is one of the reasons why a young lady of family is never unchaperoned. We thought no more about this incident until during our rail- road journey to Granada, while we were stationed at a little town, we opened our compartment door to get some air as it was insufferably hot that day, what was our surprise to find this same Toreador having his shoes polished on the Platform just in front of our door. Needless to comment, we noticed him and admired him as he was very handsome. When we reached Granada we took the bus attached to the hotel at the Alhambra where we had planned to stay, and we found this same bull fighter driving behind us until he turned in an opposite direction from us as we drove into the park of the city whose hill top is crowned by the Alhambra.

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The trees in this park were planted by order of Lord Wellington, the English general who defeated Napoleon at Waterloo. While ascending we were surprised when the electric colored lights on these trees were suddenly turned on. The next day the city was in great glee as this famous Toreador, who had followed us, was to be the fighter of the bull ring on that day. It was also one of the last days of the ten days celebration of Corpus Christi and the city was gaily decorated for the occasion. We did not attend the bull fight that day as it was Sunday and we were still living over our experience of the one in Barcelona. Instead we took a long drive around the city and to the cliffs opposite the Alhambra, where the picturesque gypsies abide. When we were returning to the city, we encountered the exodus of the fight and we found ourselves in the procession of the carriages of the elites the ladies in whites red or black, with high combs, lace mantillas and red roses or gera- niums in their hair. Who should get just in front of us but this handsome Toreador, dressed in his three cornered black beaver hats his gold embroidered satin bolera; white shirt and tight satin knee breeches. When he turned out of the procession he smiled and tipped his hat. The next day we arrived at Seville. After settling in our Hotel de Madrid in time to enjoy a delicious dinner, we promenaded the principal streets after dark. Mr. Costa and the girls were walking ahead of us. We noticed they were quite excited and learned that they had just passed the Toreador. The next morning we were walking in Seville’s Park when a small yellow phaeton passed, with a driver, also the Tore- ador and a small child upon his knee. That was our last glimpse of this popular hero who was killed the next year, a bull was the conqueror. Of all the men of Europe, the Spaniard was our favorite. They admire a woman in passing but are never insolent and forward as the French and Italians or Germans are. Mr. Costa heard some of their remarks in passing such as, “My God! What a royal Morsel”, but there was no offences. Blondes are a novelty in Spain as was proven when we visited a cafe in Granada after the Corpus Christi torchlight pro- cession. If Kittie had been acting on the stage she could not have attracted more attention. I do not exaggerate when I quote the remarks of friends that

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Kittie resembled the Queen Victoria, We visited Seville’s impressive, huge Cathe- dral where the bones of Columbus are supposed to rest in a gaudy tomb supported by four life sized angels, we climbed to the turret of the famous tower called the Giralda which adjoins the Cathedral. After leaving the South of Spain but missing the gem of a Spanish town, Ronda, which you must surely see if you ever go to the South of Spain, we journeyed to Jaca by Saragossa, a picturesque town in the Pyrenees, where we visited Mr. Costa’s brothers his wife and three sons. We spent a delightful week with them and learned how congenial and happy a Spanish family can live and so bountifully also. The many coursed dinner began at 9:00 o’clock. Mrs. Garcia and I played pantomime as neither of us spoke the same language. We enjoyed some beautiful automobile drives through the mountains, especially to Pantecosa, a health resort on a peak above the snow line. We travelled there in an open car during a heavy snow storm and when we reached our destinations we Californians were impressed with our white garments of snow. On our way back to Paris we disembarked at Limoge and drove to the little village of Oradour to visit Dr. Callandreau, an old resident of San Francisco. He lived in a very fine old chateau over one hundred years old. Bartley spent a weekend with him when he was quartered in France during the War in 1918. Before my husband’s arrival in Europe, my brother in an extravagant moment pro- posed that I ask Bart to buy an auto in France. We could tour and he would be the driver, I distinctly told him that we could not indulge in such an extravagance and Bart would not be in favor of such an indulgence. What was my surprise when after telling my husband of this conversation, he replied that he was quite inclined to buy a car and tour thru Europe. Needless to say my brother and I began to look into the different makes of auto- mobiles. We had about settled on a German Mercedes, after considering a French Dietrick cars when Hilly remembered that he had seen a beautiful yellow and black Daimler coach that had been built to order for an English lord who died before it was completed. However, before Bart and Hilly arrived in London to purchase it, It had been sold so they decided on the Daimler limousine in stock, with room for eight as we expected Mr. Costa to travel with us but he decided to with go the pleasure.

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Hilly brought the car over from London to Paris. We had our first ride in this won- derful gift to me from my husband, on Friday, July 30th, 1909. On the following Sunday August 1st, we spent the day at Fontainbleau. We found our way beyond the walls of Paris and had a picnic lunch in the forest of Fontainb- leau where Napoleon hunted and passed some of his leisure hours. After lunching in the grassy shade we visited the Palace of Fontainbleau. I will not describe it as the details have previously been read by you concerning our visit in 1902. After packing our trunks and sending them to Karlsbad, as our purpose was to go there for the “Cure”, and adjusting some minor details of the “Catherine” which our girls gave our new and first machine my name; we left Paris at 3:4:5 P.M. starting a new venture with eager anticipations, and we encountered an unpleasant incident when we stopped at a grocer’s store just beyond the gates to purchase some petrol, thus avoiding the octroio or fine within Paris. As we were leaving there two boys who were standing on the curb threw into our faces and in on our laps what we sup- posed was rice. Jean called out to them “No Brides here”. We discovered the rice was wriggling and had much odor. When we know that instead of rice, maggots confronted us it was quite difficult to got each insect up and out. We passed the villages of Vincennes, Villiers and stopped for the night at Crecy where we had to divide our family between two quaint hotels with picturesque gardens, much frequented by artists. When our car rolled into one of these picture gardens the Misses Oliver were bustling about this new toy. I can now see Joan mounting the running board and polishing the brass. After dinner we walked thru the streets of this village that suffered and bled so during the Big War. We watched the peasants dancing on the cobble stones to the music of an accordion. The next day we had our trouble, the blowout of a rear tire forced us to remain by the road- side for an hour and a half. We could not remove the tire and replace it as the Eng- lish stepney wheel was our only extra. We spent that hour depressed and wondering what to do, even a man with a cart containing a dead horse could be of no cheer. However, we at last attached the stepney wheel to the useless wheel and labored into Chalon sur Mere which was in gay regalia as the wadding of the Mayor’s daughter was going on. 75

We were fortunate in getting rooms at the hotel “Haute Mere Dieu” for that night and realized that that the young Frenchman could be as silly as our boys after a liquid repast. The next morning, after our wheel had been mounted by a new tire at the cost of $80.00 we were on our way and began to leave the cozy small homes and well cared for gardens of France for the plain and thrifty homes of Germany with the manure piled front yards. We reached Verdun in time for lunch, which was very poor. We were overcharged and objected as we had joined the Touring Club of France and the Auto Association of England and had our special rates, but they would not listen to us, instead they called in their police. We were forced to pay the extortion and depart. Our next stop was after 6 P.M. at Metsy. We spent the night at Hotel d’Auglaterre where we were charged one mark apiece for drinking water at the dinner table be- cause we did not order wine. On the next day, August 5th, 1909, we reached Saal Louie at noon where the restaurant and hotel were very good. After a delicious lunch we motored to Birgenfeld for night. There we found excellent rooms and board so walked about the hotel resort and met pleasant inhabitants who flattered the “Americans .” The next morning we found ourselves nearing the river Rhine. We stopped for lunch on a terrace of the river at Bingen. As long as I live I will always remember the delicious dark red tomatoes we enjoyed at that luncheon. That afternoon we en- joyed the driving along this winding vine-clad river dotted with castles. It is called by the Germans the “Noble River”. It is considered to be one of the world’s greatest rivers and is replete with golden memories and histories of the Gauls, Teutons and others. At 6 P.M. we arrived in the well groomed city of Frankfurt. Her streets and side- walks look like scrubbed thoroughfares, her gardens and trees grow in perfect obe- dience, her hotels are immaculate. We stopped at the “Esplanade” hotel and dined at the “Raths Keller” where our good meal was enjoyed by the accompaniment of excellent music. We also had more music for an hour in the Opera Cafe where it is interesting to see the Frau of the family accompanying her husband and grown children. 76

In other countries we noticed that the man spent their evenings without their wives. Our Sunday was spent after Mass and breakfast in traveling to Obernburg for lunch and to Wurzburg for a late dinner and the night. As another tire gave out and it took one hour to put on the Stepney wheel it was a hot day and we were nearly suffocated by the Sunday’s walking crowds surrounding our car while we were ad- justing the wheel. We spent the next morning enjoying Wurzburg’s Cathedral and her Palace gardens. That afternoon we arrived in Rothenburg, one of the delightful towns of Europe. We could not find accommodations at the “Iron hat” which was recommended to us, so were advised to take rooms at a private house opposite and try the different restaurants, Our rooms there were truly odd, the cafes were quaint with good food, some windows looking out from the ancient wall over the coun- try’s expanse, the winding streets led us to many interesting buildings and pictur- esque homes. We were fascinated and would have enjoyed a few days there but we had to move on to Nurnburg where we noticed when we reached there, that it was crowded. We found difficulty in procuring rooms for seven. We were fortunate in finding accommodations at the “Golden Adler”, After settling our baggage in our rooms we sought the “Sausage Kitchen” for a peculiar supper of sausage, course bread and butter and beer. This room has a lean to roof resting on the side of a small church, the interior walls are covered with photos and autographs of Europe’s ce- lebrities and much pewter ware is in use as Nurnburg is the birthplace of this ware. The four girls wagered who could eat the largest amount of sausages. Kittie won, she ate 18. We noticed so much bustle at the hotel and on the streets and inquired of the concierge the reasons He told us the Opera in Beyreuth was on. We were quite excited and wanted to push on and secure seats for “Parsifal”. We phoned long dis- tance for tickets but could get none. We rose early next morning to see the different churches and pass thru the Tower of Torture which was very gruesome with so many instruments for various punish- ments. One was for making bread underweight. We saw the famous “Iron Virgin” which was most cruel. The victim was forced to stand within her casements the front doors spiked lined were closed in upon the unhappy ones and there were even spikes to pierce the eyes. 77

We left Nurnberg after a good lunch at Cafe Jusch and arrived at Bayreuth at 5 P.M. and drove directly to Wagner’s opera house with the hope that we could pro- cure tickets for Parsifal, which was about to begin, but not a seat was available. However, we were fortunate in purchasing seven tickets for the next afternoon of “Lohengrin”. We then returned to the City of Bayreuth to find lodgings for the night. We learned that all the hotels were filled. We visited nine private homes and lodgings and after almost despairing for a place to rest after a hectic drives we could only procure two double rooms for the four girls in the next block from a beer garden. Where Dad and I and Hilly procured rooms we could look from our windows onto the beer tables. We spent the evening at this garden and Cafe “Soune” enjoying a good Ger- man dinner there in the open, music was listened to during the meal and way into the night even after we had retired. The next morning we drove thru this bon town and by the home of Madame Wagner who was seriously ill. Her death was expected hourly on that day August 12, 1909. She died only recently before the date of this writings May 17th, 1930. Beyreuth was made famous as the home of Wagner and the birthplace of many of his operas. His Opera House is an imposing structure built in a beautiful garden on quite an uprising. The Opera begins early in the afternoon. When the opera is half over, there is a long intermission and the audience pass out to the grounds and to a Cafe where a light supper is enjoyed. They then return to the Opera and the performance is over at 9:45. We found this German custom of early Opera with intermediate refreshments in a lovely garden quite pleasant. We also en- joyed the same custom in Munich when we heard Maude Fay sing in “Volkyre” in another beautiful opera house in a lovely garden where we took light refreshments and sauntered through the grounds. Wagner’s son led the orchestra in his father’s Opera in Beyreuth. He was a very stocky pompous little fellow, decked that day in a cerise boiled shirt. He was not popular in Bayreuth, was very conceited and overbearing and looked the part. Our next visit was at Karlsbad where we intended taking the “Cure” which lasts three weeks. We motored to a 78 storage garage on the outskirts of Karlsbad where we stored our car for the three weeks and took carriages into this Spa. We found accommodations at the Continen- tal Hotels for that time and enjoyed the life and sights. There were many interesting people to watch. At the end of the cures the girls were getting restless as Dad, Jean and I were the only patients. I decided to improve the time while Bart was finish- ing his cure, to motor to Dresden, passing thru Annaburg and other German towns. Spent two days at Pension Inn in Dresden. I replaced some of my broken Dresden china at Richard Whaneners where I formally bought it and selected some more. The next day we took the train to Berlin, visiting the Tiergarteng, Seigers, Allee, Reichstag, the Zoo thru Brandenburg gate to Unter der Linden to the Protestant Ca- thedral where Bismarck is buried and had lunch at the Carleton House Café. Then we walked to the Galleries but found them closed. Went thru the Armory, which is always open. Since that day what a horrible War has been born and bred. We arrived back in Dresden in time for supper. The next morning we left Dresden at 10 o’clock after having another good lunch at Annaburg. On our return to Karlsbad, we were passing thru a small town and had just passed two men who were talking on the curb next to a machine when a beautiful blood hound ran from behind this car and ran right under our cars We looked behind but did not stop, the dust we raised was so thick we could not see if the dog was lying there but we knew we had killed him as we felt the bump and heard his bones crunch. We were in a strange country and could not speak the language. If we had stopped we would have found much grief. However, when we were nearing Karlsbad a policeman stepped out into the road and held up club and stopped us. He used many words but we could not understand him until he used the word “hound”. He then asked us where we were going. When we told him Karlsbad he let us go on. No doubt he counted that we were going there for the “Cure” and he could procure our names and data from the police, as it is the custom there, that after three days the proprietor of the Hotel or Lodgings must send his guest’s names and addressed, business and family history to the police. It was our good fortune that the police had our history three weeks before and we were leaving Karlsbad for good the next morning. We were cautious enough not to leave by the road on which we returned the night before. We were very sorry to have killed such a fine dog but we were blameless.

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The next day September the 4th, 1909 was a day of misfortunes. The dressmaker who was altering five Irish crochet waists for us did not bring them in time. We had to leave without them. Fortunately she was honest and sent them to us to Munich. We had a poor lunch at Mitternick. Just as we were leaving this town a large hay wagon did not give us enough room on the road and we collided with it but there was no damage, only my husband put out his hand to protect himself from the hay when he felt his ring wrenched from his finger. After the two vehicles separated we shook the hay and the ring fell to the ground. We arrived at Regensburg at 6 P.M. In going out of a cross street two boys attempt- ed to pass us on their bicycles, much against the rules. We had slowed up and Hilly was blowing the horn. One boy got by but the second was knocked off his bicycle. He was not hurt but his machine was demolished. He acted very apologetic, but by the time we reached the entrance of our hotel and were alighting from our car, we heard a mob behind us. The proprietor who spoke good English told us to go into the Hotel and not to notice them that he would speak to them. He said the boy, who was with the mob would not have come to us but come of his friends discovered we were Americana and urged him to try to make trouble for us and we would pay him something. But we had had too many experiences with Europe’s attitude to the Americans and knew how to treat them. After they realized they could not see us again, they dispersed. The boy came back later apologizing and acknowledged it was his fault. However, he thought when he could not draw some lucre by the mob, he might by coming alone. We left the Hotel Maxmillian the next day, where Kittie left the diamond ring her father gave her when she was 18 years old, on the wash stand. She wrote back for it and in time it was sent to her after a reward was forwarded. On our way to Munich we stopped at the Temple of Fame at Walhalla, Notwithstanding the rainy weather we undertook the ascent up the hundreds of steps leading to it, which is on a promi- nence. Regardless of the many steps we climbed we felt repaid when we entered this last home of the famous, of the German Empire. The next afternoon found us in Munich. After the first night in the Leinfelder Hotel which Maud Fay had recommended, but the rooms were not satisfactory, the rest of 80 our stay we lived at the Russie. We enjoyed being with Maud, she had the same dominating vigor and personality that she has now. She will never grow old. We enjoyed hearing her as prima donna in “Walkerie” at the Priusy Segaute theatre. We appreciated another delightful afternoon and early evening as in Bayreuth. Most of our meals were enjoyed at Augustini and at Odeon Bar. After spending five pleas- ant days in Munich we wended out way to the “Mad Kings Palaces” which Dad and I had visited in 1902. We were so impressed with their beauty we wanted our children to see them. The hotel Schwausee, where we domiciled was so close to the Hohenschwaugau Castle, we decided to walk there as the hand swept roads were so inviting and the easy slope to the Castle of the Swans, the favorite fowl of the Kings, where we saw many porcelain and bronze favorites. His mother spent her last days there with him. The next morning we walked to Neuschwaustein Castle, the King’s largest and latest Castle. It rests on a hill in the midst of a forest. As we climbed Hilly amused us with the latest airs on his tin whistle. It was surprising what music he could get from that tiny instrument. I described this castle in our travels of 1902. We left this kingly paradise early after lunch, spending the night at Bregends and leaving the next morning at 9:30. Lunched at Hotel Schontal al’Nil and returned to the Hotel Neptune in Zurich where we stayed seven years ago. Zurich is prettily sit- uated on Lake Constance and is a very clean city but has no attractions to hold one there so we moved on to Lucerne the next day. On our way there we encountered our first storm but we were so very comfortable in our snug closed car with tarpau- lin covered suit cases on top of the car that we enjoyed the experiences arriving at Lucerne at 4:30. The Hotel L’Europa was recommended by the Misses O’Connor in Munich. We spent five days there enjoying some excursion trips back on the Lake and to Engelberg in the mountains getting some fine views. The big event while in Lucerne was the gifts from our Santa Claus, Dad, of Swiss enameled watches for the five girls and for me. They were such beauties, but we were not destined to have them long. Adelaide’s burglar which you will read about later, got Nora’s and mine, Jack and Jean lost their’s and Kittie still has hers. Our only other purchases were Swiss embroidered linens . 81

On September 18th, 1909 we left Lucerne for Interlaken, taking one of the most beautiful journeys we have had in Europe. The Swiss houses and farms with the rocked roofs and picturesque scenery enchanted me and made my resolution firmer that I would have a Swiss cottage on my return from this trip. I had my wish but the size of the family prevented me from carrying out the true type. Interlaken won our hearts, the surrounding snow capped monsters about us, the lake nestled at their feet, the green sward and towering trees about subdued any whim to roam beyond and in this mood I informed my family that my next trip to Europe, which has never been realized would be to Interlaken as my headquarters, some season tickets for the Wagnerian Operas at Beyreuth - the number being controlled by the size of my party, for I would never travel alone, and to have comfortable quarters in Beyreuth, then a visit to Paris or Vienna then home. Since then I have gone back to my old love, Italy, and I long to see her again (Paris is so greedy since the War for Ameri- can coin that I could easily eliminate her). On Sunday, the next day, September 19th, 1909 and after nine o’clock Mass we were supplied with a picnic lunch, drove to the Lauterbruneu Valleys at its apex is a path leading to a waterfall which was enjoyed. We then ate our lunch in the car and drank some fine white wine, which would be a rare treat now. After the girls had climbed to the top of the Daimler to be photographed they found it difficult to descend, especially Nora. She was very funny. We then drove to a Cafe for black coffee. It was there we saw the Evans and Bailly families after first seeing them in Lucerne but did not know them until we met Ann Bailly and her father in Venice. After our coffee we drove to Grindelwald and walked for an hour up the road to an ice Cave at the foot of the Wetterhorn. After a casual inspection of the Cave we returned to our attractive Royal St. George hotel at Interlaken voting that this day had been a perfect one, completing it with a visit at the Kursaal in the evening. The next day we spent the major part of it in the interior of the Jungfrau winding our way by tunnel in electric cars and electric light in a steady ascent half way to the Monster’s roof where we were surprised to find an interesting lunch room with openings in the mountain side framing its windows enabling one to look upon its snow white depths and watch the strings of intrepid climbers struggling towards us. 82

Since our visit then the famed Swiss engineers have completed this marvelous feat and have reached, in like manner, its lofty top thus enabling my family some future day to visit these dizzy heights. In this cave room we met a family of Spaniards from the Argentine. The daughter and two sons had been educated in Europe and spoke perfect English. Our girls spent the evening with their new friends at their hotel Savoy. The next day Hilly drove the young people about during the afternoon until we met at the hotel Victoria for teas I cannot remember this family’s name. The girls dubbed the two boys “College” and “0 Very Well” for reasons of their own. After spending our last night at Interlaken we left one of our favorite cities of lovely Switzerland at 8:15 o’clock the next morning and enthused over the pic- turesque drive we had through Thum to Berne where we lunched at the Bernehof Hotel, rested there after lunch until 3 o’clock and then returned to the Europa Hotel in Lucerne in time for dinner and found a letter waiting for me from Jack. The next morning I spent packing the trunks that we sent by express to London, Venice and three to Paris. We called for the six watches that I had left at the watchmakers to be put in good condition. How happy we were to possess them, dear old Santa. The next morning finished purchasing three articles that my family seemed always to be needing during our travels and now they never use, such as corsets, veils and flounced silk petticoats. After leaving Lucerne we travelled by way of Wallenstadt to Inzing, a small town that was flower and electric light decorated for the feast of St. Joseph. A town well in the only center park that was the pulse of this Austrian village, greeted us during the last days of the twilight and as we avoided night travel we were compelled to seek harbor there for the night, where the English language was unknown. How- ever, we found a French waiter to whom we could make our wants known and were domiciled there for the night with but little sleep as the bells seemed to be ringing thru out the night with cannon and anvil hammering. Ushering in the Feast Day we attended Mass that morning and were distracted by the quaintness of the Na- tive costumes, the separateness of the sexes and the stifle laden atmosphere. After breakfast we loaded up elbowing our way with difficulty to the car as the square was jammed with the curious to sees perhaps, the first automobile that had been in their midst. After forcing a passage we were cheered loudly at our departure. 83

After an hours journey we reached Trusbruck, took rooms and had lunch at the Maria Theresa Hotel. Walked to Maxamillan Tomb in Hof Kirche, then to Pension Kaiser where we stayed in 1902. In the evening we went to Stadthof Concert hall to dine and listen to the music till 10 P.M. We left Trusbruck unpleasantly impressed with many annoying incidences. We had been overcharged at our Hotel and Cooks refused to honor our drafts, the waiter at the Cafe short changed us and Hilly had to have treatment on the gland on his neck at the hospital. We were glad to be on our way to Bruneck, where we spent the night. The next day found us in Toblock the first Austrian village from which we sped thru the Dolomites which I have described in my previous trip of 1902. We were delighted to see Cortina again where we lunched and could look again on those pink snow capped mountains. Half an hour after we left Cortina we found ourselves at the frontier and were glad to leave Austria and get into the Italian Dolomites. Although the first town we were compelled to spend the night at, Conegliani, was the least attractive we had encountered on our entire trip. The artistic Italian neglected hotel did not compare favorably with the cleanliness of the hofs. This village was a barracks town, at the restaurant where we dined that night we found difficulty in finding tables for seven in this crowded room of Italian of- ficers, making the scene brilliant with their bright uniforms, red wine flowed freely creating a mellow noisy assemblage. I wonder how many of those happy men sur- vived the Big War. We gladly left there the next morning and shortly arrived at Nestra where we had our car washed and stored in a huge garage with individual storage cells, receiving the key for same, thus feeling the safety of our car “Catherine” in this fire proof building where all motorists were compelled to leave their cars as a short train ride brought us to the entrance to Venice where our only conveyance was a gondola to the hotel Regina on the Grand Canal where Jack and Leo spent a few days of their honeymoon. After lunching there, we wandered to St. Marks square, inhaling the atmosphere of the only Venice in the world. After peering into shop windows and visiting the Cathedral we had tea at Florians in the square. We loitered at our table in the open, watching the Venetians feeding the pigeons about the campanile, 84 where we lived over again our experience feeding candy to the children in 1902 which I narrated in a previous article. After dinner at our hotel we felt the urge of a gondola ride on the Grand Canal, during this heavenly moonlight night, We hailed a picturesque gondolier who had a large boat then we glided thru these shining waters listening to the splash of the dripping oars and to the nightly concert of guitars and song in a group of gondoliers off St. Marks square. The next morning after visiting the Cathedral and gazing on the four bronze horses on the facade balcony of the church which were once stolen by that thief Napoleon and restored, we then climbed the “Golden Stairs of the Doges Palace”. After enjoying the famous ancient and modern paintings there, we passed over the “Bridge of Sighs” into the unimpressive prison. The bridge is so named as the prisoner leaves hope behind when he crosses it. We returned to our hotel for lunch. After resting on the veranda and overlooking a brilliant picture of water and life and distant basilicas, and writing home, we wandered into St. Marks square, there feeding the pigeons until tea time. After tea we made our premier daily visit to the Carlioni equestrian statue erected in a square before the public hospital. It is considered the finest equestrian statue in the world. My husband, in our visits enjoyed it so much that he now has a picture of it framed in his library. It was just a pleasant walk there and back to our hotel “Regina”. The next day we visited the Belli Arti gallery, the old paintings impressed us as being distorted. We spent the afternoon visiting the Firari church where the tomb of Casinova is placed, also a monument to Tizian. After our return to St. Mark’s square we enjoyed tea in the afternoon and a concert there in the evening. It was in the writing room of the Regina that we met Ann Bailly on October 2nd, 1909, after previously seeing her father and Aunt Becky Evans, Jim and John Evans, at Pittsburg at Lucerne and Interlaken thus sealing a friendship of many years. That same day we spent most of the day in doors as the rain storm was better avoided. The next day Sunday, we took a small steamer to Lido, a watering place on an is- land in the Adriatic Sea. We had tea at the Excelsior Hotel there and returned in the 85 twilight. That evening I was surprised to find my daughter Jean having a friendly smoke with a strange woman on the veranda. This party introduced herself to Joan as Countess Seilern, who was travelling about during the rest of our stay in Venice. She was our shadow, but she supplied the European atmosphere. She took us to the studio of the artist Cadorin who was then making a reclining figure of Isadora Dun- can. He called her “The Duncan”. It seemed strange to me that this woman taught Nora, Jack and Kittie dancing lessons at her studio in San Francisco until she failed. She and family stole away to Europe owing many debts. Her career abroad was notorious and artistic. Our eight days in Venice were days of pleasure and interest, and pleasure in meeting fellow travellers, especially Ann Bailly and her father. No doubt the Countess Seilern if she was a countess, was looking for business for her artist friend Cadorin. The two Mr. Goulds were bla English men who considered the Americans could always pay. We left Venice on the morning of October 7th, 1909, although Nora was ill with a fever but she felt better later. We had our last gondola ride from the Hotel to the train that took us back to Nestro where we settled in our car comfortably and drove to Vincense where we had lunch after. After lunch we drove in the rain to Verona. There we spent the afternoon and night at Hotel Loudres. In our wanderings in Ve- rona we found the tomb of Juliet of Shakespeare’s Romeo and Juliet. It resembled a granite trough more than a tomb. It was filled nearly to the brim with visiting cards of the curious. We contributed our share. When we left Verona the next morning Nora was herself again. We lunched at Brescia. Tube trouble that afternoon delayed us. We reached Hotel Europa in Mi- lan, at six o’clock, which was in the shadow of her famous Cathedral. We met Mr. Sidney Smith of San Francisco and his wife, son and daughter. They were motor- ing also, but in opposite directions, retracing each others travels. We spent the next morning inspecting this beautiful Cathedral which my husband and I had visited in 1902 which I have already described. In the afternoon we drove into the extinct Monastary of Certosa dc Pavia where only nobles of the Italian aristocracy entered there as monks. From Milan to Turin we encountered the worst road we found in Europe, conse- quently we spent much time replacing tires until we found ourselves in darkness laboring over this corduroy road into Turin with impaired lights as the ascytelain gas tank had given out by the jolting. 86

Electric auto lights were unknown then. We have unpleasant memories of Turin. Besides arriving there under darkened circumstances, our hotel Europe was poor, the proprietor was disagreeable and when we were leaving the next morning we discovered our petrol tank had been emptied. From Turin to Geneva we passed thru St. Jean and Annecy, nondescript town. We liked Geneva and found a very attractive hotel de la Paris, four francs a person for rooms. One purchase there has always been a pleasure to me, my Swiss embroi- dered center piece and four dozen 2 size doilies for 420 francs. Enjoyed a pleasant day by taking a steamer on Lake Geneva to Chillon, went thru the Castle of Chil- lon where Lord Byron was imprisoned for a short time. From there we walked to Montreux, took the train there to Vevey where we had tea. From Vevey we took a train to Lausaune where we changed trains and returned to Geneva at 7:50, all vot- ing we liked Geneva and surrounding well groomed town. The next morning we regretted we were leaving Geneva. After we had travelled a short distance we discovered we had taken the wrong road to get our release at the Customs. After inquiring the way three girls and I waited at a farm house while Bart Hilly and Helen retraced their way and returned soon. We reached Morensy for lunch, spent the night at Digon, left there the next morning, had lunch at Auxerres. After tire trouble we reached Montereux for dinner and the night. We enjoyed the champagne for dinner and drank to Kittie’s health on her birthday October 17th. We found ourselves in Paris again the next day and spent two weeks shopping, Jean and Helen were returning home young ladies after their schooling in Paris. We were five women to be outfitted. Most of our time was devoted to the milliner and dressmaker. One Sunday we drove out to Chantilly, taking our lunch with us. Bart opened a bottle of champagne there and we drank to the health of the dear friends we were about to be separated from, Mr. Costa and Carmen, his niece, as they were going back to America and we were to leave shortly for London. On October 30th, Bart, Nora and Hilly left in the machine for London, where the machine was crated and sent home, I remained with the three girls in Paris as we had not finished the bug bear of travel, namely buying clothes and presents. 87

The girls and I left Paris on the train November 2nd, the passage across the chan- nel was smooth. Bart and Nora met us at Charing Cross taking us to Hotel Waldorf where we were settled. It was pleasant to understand everyone in England after the insolence of some of the French servants. We found London very dingy after Paris but most interesting in visiting her many points of interest. Also patronizing some of the restaurants and hotels such as Simpson’s Chelsea Cheese house, Palace Strand (where tipping is forbidden) Rus- sells, Hotel Cecil, Savoy Hotels Fuller’s Tea Room and Metropole. We enjoyed the theatres, seeing “Dollar Princess” “Alhambra” “Our Miss Gibbs” “The Whip” at Drury Lane, Sir Berbolin Tree in “Tribly” at Majesty Theater, George Alexander in “If I Were King”. We spent the day at Brighton with Mrs. Nixon and her daughters, lunching with them at the Metropole Hotel. The next day November 9th, was Mayor’s day. After inspecting the London Tower in the morning we watched the procession at the Strand Palace. The Callahans dined with us at the Waldorf. The next morning Henry Callahan took us thru London’s markets, then in the Tuber the underground train, to Albert and Victoria Memorian Museum. The next morning we started on a trip thru the college and cathedral towns. Cambridge was the first town, we drove thru the different colleges and spent the night at Bell Hotel in Ely. After visiting the college there, the next morning we went to Petersborough, found a beautiful cathedral there. We dined at Great Northern hotel and left later for the night at York at the Hasker’s hotel. Saw the Cathedral there then on to Durham and after to Edinburgh which is an interesting old Scotch City with many fine public buildings. We walked to Holywood Castle and Grafton hills Edinburgh Castle and the home of Mary Queen of Scots, which we found very interesting. We attended the theatre there seeing a scotch company in “What Every Woman Knows” but after seeing this played in America by Maud Adams it did not appeal. After Edinburgh we went to Melrose which was more interesting than any other visit in Scotland, The Melrose Abbey was a very attractive old ruin and so picturesque. 88

We found the old churchyard covered with frost and icicles, which we saw remotely on account of the intense cold. In fact, we could not overcome the cold even by walking three miles to Abbotsford, Sir Walter Scott’s home, and back, notwith- standing it was bright sunshine. However, we enjoyed seeing this famous country home and the surrounding scenery. When we reached our hotel “George and Ab- botsford” we ordered fires in our bedrooms but they were of little comfort, We then made up our minds that we would return to London where we could at least have modernly heated hotels and make ourselves comfortable until we sailed for home which we did on the ill-fated Luisitania on November 27th. In the meantime we spent a day at Hampton Court Palace, the largest Royal Palace in Great Britain, about 15 miles out of London. It was founded in 1515 by Cardinal Wolsey, the favorite of Henry the Eighth and it was afterwards presented by him to the King. It was here that the stalwart Henry lived with his second wife Anne Boleyn and it was subsequently occupied by Cromwell, the Stewarts and William the Third. It was built of red brick with battlemented walls. It was surrounded by a beautiful garden, its chief glory being the horse chestnuts that bloom in the early summer. We returned to our hotel in time to dress for dinner and to the theatre to see George Alexander in “If I Were King”, which was a rare treat. During the intermis- sion a few effective words to my husband persuaded him to escort us to the Savoy Hotel for supper which was one of the surprises of the trip to the girls, that their Father would consent to go to a fashionable resort. It was his sacrifice for his five lady contingents which were enjoyed accordingly. The next day we spent two hours going thru Madame Toussard’s Wax Works which was one of London’s interesting historical and sordid shows. Charley Pease, a cun- ning criminal particularly interested Jean. On November 25th, being our day of Thanksgiving at home, we celebrated the day with Mr. Richard Burke of Tipperary and Mr. Cullinan, a member of Parliament, at the Hotel Princess. Champagne was drunk with toasts. These two gentlemen had accompanied Daddy thru the Houses of Parliament during the afternoon. Mr. Henry Callahan called the next morning. As Bart had gone out he promised to come for tea as he could not come for dinner. 89

We had a cozy chat at tea. After he left us he phoned from his hotel to invite us to go with him that night to the Empire theatre in vaudeville. After an enjoyable few hours there Henry accompanied us to our hotel where we had refreshments. On the next day November 27th, we left this interesting London on the 12 o’clock train for Liverpool. Mr, Burke and Mr. Callahan saw us off, filling our arms with roses, magazines and cigars, Reached Liverpool at 5 o’clock. We had travelled in a storm from London. Our passage from the train to the Luisitania was unpleasantly cold and drenching. The cheerfulness and warmth of the “Luse” in her red rugs and electric stoves in each room welcomed us pleasantly. Leaving England in a storm did not make sea travel very pleasant, however, after two days in seclusion a champagne cocktail braced me up enough that I could dress and get on deck. The rest of the trip was delightful. We knew no one on board ex- cept Mr. Edward Tobin who was good company. Memory renews the comfort and cheerfulness of the large assembly salon with blazing open fires at either extremity of the room. Can it be possible that it is at the bottom of the Atlantic now? The last night at the captain’s dinner, Jean was asked to pass about the plate for the orchestra contributions. We arrived in New York at 9 o’clock, spent three hours on dock going thru the customs. Dr. de Vecchi and Margaret and Martin Merle met us, accompanied us to the Astor, whose two porters met us on dock and opened and closed our trunks for us. Martin had lunch with us in the Indian Room. Margaret came again in the after- noon. Dad, Nora and I went with her to visit her parents at the Walcott. We walked back to our hotel. We had dinner in the Orangerie. Nora and Martin dined alone. Shopped next morning. Mrs. Picksley and her daughter Alice called that afternoon. They had tea with us Father Gleason of the Navy accompanied us to dinner at Shan- ley’s and to the Hippodrome later. The next day we went to the Metropolitan Museum, then drove thru the Park to the Plaza for tea. We walked to our hotel, rested an hour then went to Dr. de Vecchi’s, from there we went to an Italian restaurant to dine with them. 90

Mrs. Picksley the next day took a few of us for an auto drive thru the Park and other points of interest. We went to Sherrys later and met the rest of the family there for tea. That evening after calling for Margaret and Kittie at the formor’s hotel Father Gleason accompanied us to another Italian restaurant on Fifth Avenue where we met and dined with Dr. and Mrs. de Vecchi, later going to the theatre to see Forbes Robertson in “The Passing of the Third Floor Back”. The next afternoon we had tea with Belle Pollock and Miss Fletcher; Polly’s cous- ins. That evening the same contingent of de Vecchis, Father Gleason and Olivers had our third Italian dinner together. We returned together to the Astor. After a pleasant hour there our friends bid us goodbye and wished us a pleasant journey as we started the next day December 8th, 1909 on the last lap home to spend Christ- mas with Jack and Leo, Adelaide, Bartley and John. Martin accompanied us home. The train travel was uneventful and very cold at stations. Our home coming was a very happy one thus ending our third and last trip to Eu- rope.

PART X

ADELAIDE’S BURGLAR

On Wednesday, February 22nd, 1911, while most of us were at dinner, Adelaide, Nora and Helen had excused themselves toward its end to dress for parties they were attending that evening. The burglar had climbed a ladder placed against the trellis of the kitchen fence and entered by an open window over the back stairs. The ladder and open window were like an invitation. He evidently entered my room first, find- ing all my jewelry in a jewelry box except what I had on, I had placed all in that box as the papers had announced so many burglaries by a porch climber at the dinner hour. I had carried the box down to dinner each night but the morning newspapers stated that the climber had been captured which made me careless. Nora must have just missed him because as she ascended the stairs she heard a door leading into the back hall close. She stood in the front hall quite startled but decided she was foolish and cowardly and went into her room. Before leaving her room after dressing she placed on her bureau by her bed a lavender enameled Swiss watch, one of the six watches her Father had purchased for the girls and myself in Lucerne. 91

When she came home late that night she missed the watch and was quite annoyed at Adelaide thinking she had taken it to wear to her party. You can imagine the shook next morning when I told her a burglar had taken it but she was pleased to find he had missed her silver trinkets and Chattelaine purse containing $30.00. During dinner we heard Adelaide scream but thought she and Helen were frolick- ing. What was our surprise, when Helen rushed into the dining room, ashen saying, “A burglar has just been in Adelaide’s room and pointed a pistol at her.” Leo and I rushed upstairs. I found Adelaide standing before her bureau facing the hall door with her hair flowing, her hands to her mouth and her eyes popping. She repeated what Helen had told us, I could not believe her at first but she was so insistent that I recklessly rushed into my room in the dark and found my case empty with the exception of a gold round locket studded with rubies that my husband had given me while we were in Genoa in 1902. It contained two priceless tiny photographs of my six daughters and my husband and two boys (my three boys). Adelaide narrated how she was combing her hair when she caught the eye of a medium sized man, dark, with rosy checks, in a dark brown suit and black derby hat trying to pass her door. He stepped back from sight when he saw her and evidently cocked his pistol and rushed into her room pointing the pistol at her. She then screamed. He told her he would kill her if she screamed again and asked her why she screamed. She said she did not know. He wanted to know where the Boss’ room was. She pointed in the direction of our room, He wanted to know where her jewelry was. She pointed to her bureaus then Helen opened another door from her room and wanted to know why Adelaide screamed. Helen crossed the room and stood with her back to the door that the burglar had entered. He slipped out of sight and appeared again behind Helen pointing his pistol to her back and motioning to Adelaide with his finger to his mouth to keep silent, then he disappeared for goods never to be found, or our jewelry either. A few months later a detective called again and requested Adelaide to go to the city jail and identify a man 92 they had arrested with some of the ear marks of “her burglar”. I told the detective I would not subject her to such an ordeal, but she was keen to go and said she would never forget that face and would know him. She and her Father went there. Ten men were marched into the outer jails Adelaide said he was not there. The men then filed out and came back with derby hats an but the man they wanted was not there. After Helen told us of this man who had confronted Adelaide, Jack very wisely tele- phoned the police station to rush up the police. It seemed magic that five uniformed men with cocked pistols could reach us so soon but their quest had escaped by the back door by that time and disappeared in a machine. They found finger prints be- low the window where he entered. Official photographers came the next morning but the prints were too smeared to photograph. My jewelry was the only real loss as they could not be replaced, some being heir- looms, especially the clustered diamond earrings from my Father, nine diamonds in each, I had them made into studs later. Also a gold comb of my Mother’s that bore a tale. The eight balls in the comb were of the purest gold which was the first gold from one of my Father’s mines. When I was very young my Mother took me to a manufacturing jeweler to have this gold made into a champagne stemmed cup which she presented to my Father on his birthday. My Mother promised me then that if I kept the secret of its making, she would give me a nice doll. How I loved that doll. Years after she had the cup melted up for this comb and two bracelets. As I have narrated elsewhere, my Mother never used hairpins, always wearing a comb, having three of them, a silver one and the muchly used one that I have given my daughter Jean as she resembles my Mother. My husband had brought me from Tunis, Africa, a beautiful necklace of Indian workmanship of pearls and emeralds which was another great loss. Also he gave me in Florence a pale pink coral comb shaped like a coronets. Some other minor articles went but my husband’s gifts were the last from him, as since that robbery he calls jewelry “junk”. The beautiful pieces I have now, with the exception of my diamond cross, are from my children. They are too good to me.

93 THOSE HECTIC YEARS

The Oliver family were living such a tranquil country life at the “Folly” in Los Altos, so pleased with our lot in life on August 14, 1914, when the flashing of a pistol shot sounded all thru Europe and chaos reigned supreme for four years and four months. I do not know why I did not hear that shot in my porch that afternoon as the report from the evening papers seemed to real and fear inspiring while I sat there looking over my garden and thru the oak tree tops in the kill. I sat there after Bartley brought me the news, also reading of the death of President Wilson’s first wife, who was replaced before the war ended. Also that day closed the sad appeal- ing eyes of Pius X, dying of a broken heart. How my heart ached for those mothers of sons over there, little knowing that we would be drawn into the conflict and we mothers would also have that same dull heart pain. Our boys would be given the chance to volunteer for the supreme sac- rifice, which our two boys did, adding a year to their age in order to do their share. Previously to the 14th, Bartley had joined the Militia and was stationed at Nogales for five months, when our country was having trouble with Mexico. Being in the Militia, he was naturally included in the ranks at first, then promoted as a Corporal. Those years were a wedge between our trips to Europe and our visits to China as thru Nora’s marriage our interests were directed to the “Far East”. During the period of the “Wedge” five of our children left home within five months. Bartley entering Camp Kearny for a year before going to France, where he was billeted for a year before Armistice Day. My incredulity was such that I feel my prayers were heard as his Signal Corps did not lay the ordered wires during a ninety hour bar- rage, which would have been very dangerous. Jean’s wedding to Pete Freeman took place on August 25th, 1917. Nora was mar- ried to Charles Bo Brown, or “Brownie” of China, a month later, September 7, 1917. Adelaide was married to Mervyn O’Neill the following February 6th, 1918. On January 30th, 1918, John sailed on the “John Ena” for New Zealand, going as a cadet to learn navigation with the intention of going into the Navy, where he was when the Armistice was signed.

FINIS 94 95

PART XII

FIRST CHINESE TRIP

We sailed on the Pacific Mail Steamer “Ecuador” for Shanghai on March 8, 1919* Bart$ Helen and I were the happy voyagers. On leaving San Francisco the few first days were raw and choppy. If I was not going to Nora, I would have been pleased to leave and turn back. I am such a poor sailor but Christine McNab’s and Helen’s laughter next door cheered me. We found our staterooms roomy, clean and our food excellent. Before we reached Honolulu, Captain, officers and passengers were in white which gave a tropical atmosphere. On Sunday, March 16, I looked out of our stateroom window that morning and sighted for the first time Honolulu Harbor. What a picture it was! After the prelimi- naries of landing were over, we moved rapidly down the gang planks glad to stand on terra firma again. After hearing Mass we went to Young’s Hotel very modern and in the heart of town. We ascended to the roof garden and obtained a fine view of the town, harbor and suburbs. Then we took a machine and drove out to the Cliff of Pali, over which the original inhabitants of the Island were driven by invaders from a neighboring island, and were dashed to pieces on the rocks at the bottom of a perpendicular drop of about eight hundred feet. The view from this Cliff is grand; the sight beautiful with the orderly planted pineapple fields in the red clay and the surrounding beach that has the same colors of the Waikiki Beach, the deep indigo blue varying to turquoise and pale green. On the drive there and back we saw con- tinuous gardens with beautiful homes. We reached the Moana Hotel an Waikiki Beach where we lunched with Happy Adams and Jim Brand. Our fellow passengers from the Ecuadar. Later we walked on the principal drive to the famous aquarium which surpasses the one in Naples, having a greater variety of fish in colors and in shape. The beach boys are the principal feature of this tropical gem city of the Pacific. Besides being of perfect physique they have fine voices. On a later visit we were awakened at 3:00 A.M. by these Kanaka boys singing under our window, in the moonlight, with such wonderful voices and plaintive accents. They thrive on their visits to the steamers.

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They swim out to an incoming boat, climb her decks and dive off. The passengers throw down coins which are never missed by these expert divers, they carry the coins in their mouths when they are so filled they have to desist diving and swim to land. The same performance is repeated on the steamer’s departure. Notwithstand- ing the five delightful visits I have made to this happy island, it is still calling! After leaving Honolulu we spent the next fifteen days pleasantly in getting acquainted with our fellow passengers. On March 30, we found we had reached the harbor of Yokohama. After visiting the famous Grand Hotel, an ugly wooden red painted building, rambling and intricate, where every nationality and uniform could be seen as life was subsiding there and everywhere after the appalling conflict of the war, we joined our fellow passengers which made a party of eight and took a train to Kyoto, the most picturesque city of Japan. When we arrived there we took two automobiles to the Miyake Hotel which was on a hillside overlooking this artistic city. After supper we took our first rick- shaw ride. Helen and I were so thrilled. They seemed to glide along as the rickshaw man ran in his padded pumps. It was all so silent and mysterious through the dark sleeping streets. Presently we came to the lighted center where we had to leave our conveyances and walk through the brilliantly lighted tiny streets of tiny people, to the street of movie shows: with the most blood curdling oil painting signs of what was going on within. The clatter of the wooden sandals was incessant. We went into a tea house to see the Geisha girls dance but they, like the world over, sized up the American, doubling up the price of the show. After being seated on pads of matting on the floor: the men balked at being overcharged by the little brown man, so we got up and trailed out, back to our rickshaws and to bed. We were fortunate in being in Japan at blossom time, seeing the largest cherry blos- som tree in Japan which was strung with different colored electric lights, it was bril- liant and beautiful. Next day we saw many private and public gardens, where the deep cherry blossom trees are artistically placed in these gardens, but they would not compare with our blossom time in the Santa Clara Valley. Wisteria is very plen- tiful in Japan and is truly a lacy, feathery sight,, The tiny waitresses 97 were in their native costume with their hair dressed elaborately with small fans. On our way to Kyoto we were fortunate in getting a very fine view of Fujiyama Moun- tain. It is generally obscured by mists. The next morning we awoke in a strange country diminutive in its building as well as its people. Some of the homes are like playhouses, This famous hotel com- mands a marvelous view of the city and the surrounding country. Our guide took us through some of the private gardens of several millionaires, made so by differ- ent needs during the war. Their gardens are quite similar to the Japanese Garden in Golden Gate Park. On the door step of their home is the mute information of the size of the family’s feet and the number in their households The Japanese never wear their outdoor wooden sandals in their homes, where the floors are covered with immaculate heavily padded matting squares that fit perfectly in each room. They move about heavily stockinged. We had to remove our shoes when we en- tered. We visited a few temples but found them very uninteresting. We returned to the hotel for lunch, packed our luggage and sent it to the depot while we visited art factories and shops, in rickshaw, a convenience Helen and I enjoyed very much. When one has seen Kyoto, he has seen the model of all the cities of Japan. We left on the 5:20 train, reaching Kobe in time for dinner at the Oriental Hotel where we met a few of the passengers of the “Ecuador,” who had been also spend- ing the allotted time at Kyoto. Our steamer arrived from Yokohama at 9:00 P.M. We boarded a launch which took us on board about midnight. Our expedition into Japan was a most successful one, thanks to Mr. Richardson, who was our self appointed guide. The country is very artistic, and epithet more peculiar to Japan than any country I have ever visited. We travelled through this in- tensively cultivated land which is like a patch quilt of cultivation, where the women work in the water up to their knees in these squares of pale green rice fields. They wear their native costume and occasionally carry a baby on their backs also wear a yellow patch of mustard, which we consider a weed and a nuisance. The laborer’s makeshift of a home in the fields is a picture. One disappointment in Japan is the introduction of modern European 98 and American architecture and dress instead of their own native beauty. With their many excellent qualities of industry, patriotism and good taste, Japan does not ap- peal to me as does China with all her rags, poverty and lack of patriotism. When a Chinaman advances above the coolie class he is clean, dignified and often aristo- cratic, where the Japs even in the coolie class, is impudent and dishonest. They rile one, perhaps I cannot shake off the California prejudice. On leaving Japan we travelled through the Inland Sea, an expanse with thousands of islands. The fishing boats of the Japs must run into the thousands. They are naturally small and look like sea¬gulls in the distance. I comprehend now why we get that pungent odor of spoilt fish when we pass a produce shop in any Japanese habitation even in San Francisco, as they must dry the fish that they catch in these boats, having no means of other preservation. On April 31 1919, just ten years previous to this writing, we found ourselves in the Yellow Sea down by the Yangtze River, with the usual fine weather that we had en- joyed during our trip. We reached Shanghai the next morning, thus ending our long sea voyage of twenty-seven days. Imagine our thrill at the first glimpse of Shanghai and China. Helen and I were glued to the rail, viewing the fine buildings and parks on the Bund, the clean streets and the bee hive of a wharf with the swarming eternal Chinese, ragged and unwashed, shooed out of the way by the foreigner’s cane. Ralph Snyder of the Standard Oil, Brownie’s friend, met us and looked after our baggage. He escorted us to the Palace Hotel where Nora had written from Chefoo for accommodations for us. The hotel was so crowded. We had one room for three. Nora’s letter which we received at the hotel, but had missed the three she sent us in Japans contained hearty welcome and instructions to travel by sea to Chefoo on the “Tungchow” which would sail on Sunday, the sixth of April, allowing us two days in “Shai.” We improved the moments by a cramming process of sightseeing. After lunching or “tiffining” in the high ceilinged, bare, square dining room of the Palace Hotel with Mr. Snyder 99 and Jim Brand, our fellow passenger who was so kind and attentive always, we hired two one horse cabs, similar to those in Europe, to view the city. First we drove to the China Navigation Company to secure our tickets on the “Tungchow,” then out through the French concession where Nora now lives (1929), where are located the best foreign residences, returning to the hotel by the famous Bubbling Well Road. Saw the Bubbling Well; it really does bubble but is polluted and slimy looking on account of the odd articles thrown into it. It is about eight feet deep, six feet square and the water bubbles over an area of about twelve inches in diameter. It surely does not measure up to the attractive spot one pictures from the name. This road and the Nanking Road are the principal thoroughfares, the latter terminating at the Bund. The residences with their walled gardens and handsomely grilled gates are numerous and contain such gardens! The Chinese are wonderful gardeners. They also peddle many beautiful and bright flowers in the streets. We dined at the Palace and at 10: P.M. went to the Carleton Restaurant with Ralph Snyder, his finance, a Russian girl, and Jim Brand, to watch the dancing and have refreshments. The latter were not so enthusiastically indulged in them as they are now, as America had not gone dry yet. Dad left for the feathers at 11:00 P.M. I stayed with the young people until 1:30 P.M. Enjoyed watching the dancing in this only, popular place of its kind, for the mixed races of “Shai.” The music was good. I found some interesting people to watch. Our visit through the native city was a new experience in seeing the poverty of the yellow race, the unsanitary hovels, the shops of rare art, the abundant shops of shril- ly singing birds and fancy cages, the cobwebby filthy native cafes, the slimy lake in the center of the city with fancy carved bridges leading to and from a crowded unclean cafe in the lake’s center, crowded with China men, no women. The streets were so narrow and crooked that we had to leave our rickshaw and walk about, fol- lowed by deformed beggars. That was our first visit to a native city and I think it was the filthiest. Those in Chefoo, Peking, Hankow, Behang and Chongqing were cleaner but not as interesting. When I look down on Chinatown here from my bed- room window and pass through it, 100 which is the show-place of San Francisco for the stranger, I still compare their own country with the emancipation of the young Chinese here. On Sunday at 10:20 A.M. we sailed on the “Tungchow,” the best vessel on the Shanghai, Wee-hai-wei, Chefoo and Tientsin run. She was immaculate in white enamel and red carpets and supplied with real beds, The captain, Harris, looked after the comforts of his passengers and had a compredore (steward), who gave us excellent food. Our voyage throughout was clear, calm and restful. When we reached Chefoo Harbor on April 81 Nora and Brownie and some of their friends came out in a launch to meet us. What a happy reunion we had, our first since her marriage. She and Brownie looked very well. We could notice no change. Her home was not over ten minutes walk from the landing. We were glad to stretch our legs after so much confinement. We found the Browns very comfortably settled in a large old fashioned house with very long steep stairs to the second floor as the lower ceilings were so high. Nora had given her first home a touch of comfort and refinement. It took me a few days to get accustomed to hearing her ruling her Chi- nese servants with pigeon English, and how adept she was at it. She had three ex- cellent ones) cook, house boy and coolie; the two latter served the table. They had to run out in the open from the pantry to the kitchen about thirty feet distance, as the kitchen and Chinese quarters were separate. Tiffin was ready on our arrival and we spent two hours at it, all talking at the same time during the entire two hours. The lunch was so good. Later Brownie took Bart to his office and the Chefoo Club, while we three girls chatted and unpacked our trunks. I brought Nora many gifts, cannot remember them now. We sat down to dinner at 8:30. It was particularly prepared for us and all Nora’s finest equipment, mostly her wedding gifts, were in use, We enjoyed everything; Nora was bubbling over. After dinner we sat around the open fire in the living room and still chatted. Nora made us very comfortable. We were tired and it seemed good to get between the sheets, but the wind was blowing so, the old fashioned shutters were rattling so and the stray dogs were barking so, our sleep was troubled. 101

Nora’s home was on Consular Hill. The walk surrounding the Hill impresses one like the views of the Mediterranean, it being partially surrounded by the sea. At night the distant lights resemble the Embankment in London. This first home of Nora’s in China was minus stationary plumbing and no running water, all being carried in by coolies, but she had electric light. The social life in Chefoo was very pleasant. Many of Nora’s friends called upon us the first few days we were there. Most of them were of English extraction and connected with the customs. We were invited to many dinner parties. There were parties there more elaborate than we have at home, with such perfect service, as each guest sent his boy to assist at the homes we dined at. When Mrs. Sugden whose husband was number one of the customs, invited us, she would always send her chair to take me to her home* I mean a chair which is fastened on the center of two long bamboo poles and carried at both ends by two coolies, each and four in all, who walk in unison in their padded slippers giving the chair an even swing which makes a very pleasant ride, The men are good looking in their unique uniforms* Mr. Sugden, who is the ranking official of the Port, socially as well as officially, was very desirous that I should see his hot house; so the chair came again for me one Sunday afternoon for tea, the English custom that always appeals to me. What was my inward laughter to find only our common red geraniums in the hot houses that had the care of orchids. He thought they were beautiful. One afternoon Helen went out horseback riding with three young men. When they were about five miles along the beach her horse became unmanageable and threw her, running away, but did not injure her as she fell in the sand She was quite shaken up, however. The horse was captured and she had the grit to mount him again, only to experience another upset; so she decided walking was better than riding, although her boots hurt her feet. Later she procured a rickshaw and rode back while Mr. Bradley rode beside her on horseback. After that experience Brownie and I did not approve of riding these Chinese ponies; so she thereafter refused all invitations to ride, from the young men of the town. 102

We have seen some of the women with bound feet, especially one helpless creature whose feet looked more like hands with beautifully embroidered cuffs than like feet. She was so helpless she had to be carried and was evidently the wife or con- cubine of some wealthy Chinese. But what agony she must have suffered during her childhood as the feet are bound every morning. At night when the binding is removed and the blood circulates in the feet, it is the most exquisite agony. Even when they are old women they suffer and have to bathe them before retiring to got some rest. How different is the habit of the Japanese women who wear no shoes and have comparatively large feet for their size and stature. Our Chinese girls in San Francisco have small feet and beautiful ankles and legs. One feature in China that amused us was the carrying of Chinese skylarks in small cages through the streets. I am told they carry them for company as they are much attached to their birds; in fact they have betting contests if several Chinese meet with their pets. We saw one of these contests on the side of a hill in Chefoo, betting whose bird would sing the longest and best. We had such a lovely visit with Nora. All her new found friends were devoted to her and so attentive to us. We were entertained at each home with more elaborate dinners than we ever have at home, especially since the war. There were generally seven courses and many wines.

A SAMPLE DINNER IN CHEFOO

Two cocktails and relish Soup Fish salad Eggs en casserole Roast chicken Roast hams green peas and potatoes Fruit salad Ice cream with grated nuts Hot chocolate poured over Cakes, Cheese with radishes Crackers Coffee Sherry and champagne, port 103

We were with Nora from April 8 to April 24. On that day we three and Jim Brand boarded the “Shengking” for a few days at Peking and Tientsin. I was so disap- pointed Nora could not come with us, but she felt she could not leave her husband. The “Shengking” cannot compare with the “Tungchow” in beds and bedding or chow. Our two nights and a day made very unpleasant travelling. We passed the Taku Bar and started up the Pei-ho River for Tientsin. If we could have looked into the future and knew that in Tientsin Helen was to meet her fate and death, what a heart gripping dread we would have felt but God was merciful to keep us in igno- rance and permit some happiness to come to our little girl before he took her. We docked at Tientsin at 1:00 P.M. Mr. Deming, of the Standard Oil, met us at the wharf, as Mr. Cornish, the number one or manager was up the country with the gen- eral manager and his assistant. Mr. Daly took care of us after Mr. Deming brought us to the S.O.S. Office. From there we drove in the Company’s car to the Imperial Hotel, where we had lunch. We drove through the principal streets for two hours, then decided to go on to Pekingg and visit Mr. Cornish on our return to Chefoo. The country that we passed through was perfectly flat and part of it quite sandy. On many of the farms that bordered the railroad were wooden coffins, raised from the ground by blocks and many mounds that covered the dead. The unburied dead gave a weird impression at first but after seeing hundreds, some even lying in the public streets, you were not impressed at all. We arrived in Pekingg at 8:10 P.M. after dark. Mr. Daly wired for reservations for us at the Wagon Lits Hotel, where we were very comfortable. After dressing for dinner we sat down to dinner at 9:00 P.M. Being Saturday, it was the dancing evening and very gay with officers and their wives of many nations. Besides the Chinese and Jap officers) many United States marines were there. I noticed one very handsome marine, tall and fair, was a great favorite with the girls. We learned later that he was the son of Ex-president Cleveland. Helen and Jim Brand enjoyed the dancing, a very good Chinese band. The next morning after church and breakfast, we hired rickshaw and rode out to the temple and Altar of Heaven, enclosed in high walls with fancy gateways. 104

The grounds were spacious but neglected. The temples of elaborately carved mar- ble and dark blue glazed tiled roofs were very much neglected also. We then visited the Forbidden City, also walled, with better kept buildings and a very fine Museum. What impressed me more were the streets which harbored but one commodity, such as Lantern Street selling only lanterns, Flower Street only artificial flowers and glass grapes hung in profusion from each shop. The vista down this street was very bright: Furniture, Jewelry and Art Streets. Pekingg’s one of the most attractive cities I have ever been in. The walled homes and compounds, the latter meaning a cluster of buildings within the walls, are very attractive and very private. Behind the gate, as one enters a com- pound, there is a wall the width of the gate about six feet within, which enables one to turn on either side to enter the grounds. The Chinese believe the devil cannot turn a corner so he cannot enter as this wall bars his way straight ahead. There are so many peddlers in China, each with a different sounding bell. The resident dweller becomes so accustomed to these bells that he knows what peddler is without. The Chinese barber is a peddler carrying his stool, basin and etc., and is considered very low cast because he stands up at his work. The trade follows from father to son be- cause of being low cast. I observed particularly that I did not see a mean face among the Chinese but I cannot say the same of the Japanese. Pekingg is a busy city, all streets are crowded except in the Legations which is the most attractive part of the city and near our hotel. There are such a variety of con- veyances – rickshaws, Peking carts, automobiles, bicycles, donkey carts, squeaky wheelbarrows and closed carriages which are used almost exclusively by the gaily painted Manchurian ladies. We saw many funerals and weddings which are elabo- rate affairs. It would take pages to describe them. Mr. and Mrs. Corbett, number one of the S.O.S. of Peking, called upon us and we kept them for dinner. The next day Mrs. Corbett took us to some of the best shops. We had tiffin with them and in the afternoon the Company’s car was placed at our disposal. 105

We were driven out to the Summer Palace, Coal Hill and through the residential quarter and the Legations. Most of the public points of interest are rapidly turning into ruin. If the loafing Chinese who always have their palms out would be put to work to keep them repaired, tourists would be repaid for their entrance fee. China surpasses Italy when it comes to extortion toward tourists. Our return voyage from Pekingg to Tientsin was a hot, dusty, disagreeable journey. When we arrived we expected to see Mr. Cornish at the Tientsin Station, as he had wired us to Pekingg pleading that we visit him. Not seeing him we took rickshaws to the Imperial Hotels. However, we were closely followed by Al, who had reached the depot just after we departed. Little did we know then that Helen was meeting her future husband. That fateful April 30, 1919, just ten years ere this jotting. Was it Fate that we should accept his invitation to visit him in his very attractive apart- ment which was Helen’s home later? He was number one of the Standard Oil in Tientsin, had a staff of seventeen white men under him there and held the most important position in North China outside of Shanghai. After much insistence we consented to accompany him to his home and found that elaborate preparations had been made for our comfort and for dinner. Guests were awaiting us. After hurried baths and dressing from our grimy trip; we had a most delightful evening, meeting Baron de Caters of the Belgian Bank, Mr. Allman, the American Vice Consuls and Mr. Daly. The next day we found some places of interest in Tientsin, visiting the “go down” of the S.O.S., the native city where we purchased two Chinese screens. We also found a piano which we ordered sent to Chefoo as a surprise for Nora. We spent four delightful days in Tientsin. The evenings were very gay with dinner par- ties going to the dance halls later, the young people dancing into the wee hours. I enjoyed watching the foreign residents, English, French, Belgians also Americans. On Sunday, May 4, after our last tiffin in Tientsin, through a happy thought of our future son-in-law, we went on board the Company’s launch at 2:00 P.M. accompa- nied by Al, Beth Winston and Peter Daly. (That trip was the beginning of a love affair between Beth and Peter which culminated in marriage and a honeymoon around the world. They dined with us in San Francisco. 106

A few months after their return to Tientsin he made a business trip to Chongqing, caught the dreaded typhoid fever there and before his wife could reach him, he had died. Our trip down the river was ideal, viewing the intensive cultivation of the riv- er’s banks, the varied kinds of boats and picturesque sails. Al had brought his cook and boy; we had a delicious tea on the deck. We reached the Taku Bar just at dusk. After bidding our host and his other guests goodbye, we took rickshaws to our nice little steamer the “Tungchow” again. Captain Harris and his competent number one boy welcomed us as old friends. My place at the captain’s right was awaiting me. Jim Brand also met us. He had travelled by train from Tientsin and was on his way to Shanghai. We disembarked at Chefoo, half way to “Shai” We did not see him again until we reached Yokohama. We were together on our way home on the Steamer “Columbia,” Grace Steamship Company, she is now plying between San Francisco and New York by the Canal. Now that we had terminated our visits to Pekingg and Mr. Cornish, we were eager to get back to Nora but we were delayed all the next day and into the night with loading cargo, which consisted of heavy iron barrels which we were told contained Chinese eggs for bakeries in America. How hard those poor coolies worked, always shouting or singing their shanties which they sing when united action is required, and all that labor for only $8.00 per month and chow. Their life is very hard and a dirty one, sleeping on the bare floors of the lighters in their rags. We had the same chief engineer who was on board on the “Tungchow” when Nora and Brownie made their first trip to Chefoo as bride and groom, which was their home for a few years. On account of the rough weather the newlyweds could not land and spent Christmas at sea. He remembered Nora and the trip well and the great celebration they had at Christmas dinner. We reached Chefoo at 10:00 P.M. The Brownies came out on a launch to receive us, We were all so happy to be together again. We found much mail and papers from home. The next day Nora, Helen and I had an old Los Altos day together sewing and chatting. And how much we had to say. A stranger is surprised by the ways and means of enjoyment in faraway China. There is a good fellowship among the foreigners, as all their pleasures depend upon each other. Every day has its social intercourse.

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The dinner parties are banquets. The telephones are not wanting but the household- ers write “chits” instead of ringing up. One sees many coolie boys walking the streets with their “Misses” monogrammed chit book under their arm, delivering a message. It amused me to see Nora writing a chit to her neighbor who lived in the other half of the S.O.S. house Nora occupied, although they had telephones. Tennis is one of the sports. We attended games and tea at the Chefoo Club and also at the English councils home which made quite an impression as the tennis court was in a beautiful garden just above a cliff on Legation Hill, looking down on the sea as blue as the Mediterranean. The four coolies who were employed to pick up the balls were in blue uniforms with straw hats and streamers similar to what I have seen in the gondoliers in Venice. The day was perfect; tea was served in this garden spot. The summer gowns and parasols of the ladies made a lovely picture. On May 81 Al Cornish kept his promise to visit us by arriving on that date, Helen being the lodestar, and remained until the fourteenth of May, He and Helen spent many happy hours together evidently, as she informed me he had proposed but she had not accepted him yet. However, when he bid us good-bye, he said, “Good bye Dad”. I felt that incidents in the family were changing as Helen had decided to write to Norman Carroll of New Jersey, to whom she had been engaged for four years and would likely drag on for another four years, and inform him that their engagement was at an end. During Al’s visit Brownie had a birthday, thirty-seven years old. Nora gave him a birthday dinner which was very enjoyable. Chefoo is considered the summer watering place of North China. Its climate is fair; although the south winds are most disagreeable and destructive. An incident of Brownie’s patience and domesticity impressed me. How he spent a whole morning of his holiday planting some lettuce that he had raised from seed. It was a bending task and well accomplished. A south wind came up during the night, the next morn- ing the lettuce was wilted and gone. How grateful California is to our efforts. May 19, 1919 was the day we dreaded as it meant our leave taking of Nora. If my health was better we might have put off our going 108 but these colic attacks were getting severer and more frequent and Dr. Hill of Chefoo advised my going home. After tiffin at Nora’s we boarded our Steamer “Shentien” to “Shai” at 2:30 P.M. The four of us broke down when it came to say farewell. We were too overcome to express our feelings in words and could only mutely gaze at and embrace her. After her launch left us and she reached her home, we could see her waving and I knew what a heartbreak it was for her to see us go. It always has been and still is a heavy aching cross to have our first born so far from us. We reached Shanghai at 4:00 P.M. May 21, 1919.* 1 forgot to mention that Mr. Cornish was not missing an opportunity to make hay while the sunshines. He joined us at Nora’s before we left her and continued on the trip with us as far as Yokohama On May 25, we boarded the Steamer “Columbia,” at Shanghai sister ship of the “Ecuador.” The ship was crowded, Helen and I roomed together; Bart was with a dark stranger. Mrs. David Anderson, Hallie sat at our tables being a friend of Al’s. During our voyage toward Japan, Al approached Dad and asked permission to marry Helen. We cannot say we were surprised. We both thought they were a little hasty in rushing developments and advised them waiting six months or longer. Notwithstanding, we had no objection to Cornish. On reaching Japan we had an opportunity to see more of Japan. Spent a few hours in Tokyo, motoring through the city and dining at the Imperial Hotel. We had our last bottle of sparkling burgundy together; Helen’s favorite beverage. On reaching Yokohama Al secured a machine. We drove to Kamakura to see the great bronze Buddha. The drive one way and back, another gave us a fair idea of the beauty of Japan. On leaving Japan we also left Al behind, I was sorry that Helen had to part from her newly found love. However, our voyage home was quite gay. Jim Brand joining us at Yokohama. We had another happy time at Honolulu. Jim decorated us with Leis. We arrived home on June 18, 1919. Had a very happy reunion with our family. Re- mained at the Fairmont until we moved to Los Altos

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PART XIII

SECOND TRIP TO CHINA 1922

On February 1st, Bekins moved our belongings at 2850 Washington Street to our home in Los Altos. After this strenuous task we spent five days at the Hotel Sutter, Dad’s choice of a hotel, being run by George Hooper. On Tuesday the seventh we sailed on the Empire State to visit our two daughters in China, Nora and Helen. The name of the Empire State was changed shortly after this trip to the name of one of the Presidents, an extravagance of our Government that I never could fathom. At this time this fleet of steamers were Government owned. Later the Dollar Line bought most of them by auction, thus being a higher bidder than the Pacific Mail, The latter was eliminated from the Pacific route to the Orient on losing out. Why Uncle Sam indulged in such wild expenditures of $100,000 a boat to change the name of each boat, steamer chair, menu cards stationery, when for economy’s sake I was refused orange juice for my breakfast in my room. The stewardess in- formed me I would have to go to the bar for it, which meant an extra charge. How- ever, we had a delightful trip, the only mar was the persistency of my husband to grow a beard, I felt as if I was rooming and dining with a hobo. The first three days on leaving the coast were cold, rough, and dizzy laden. I spent them reclining and writing “Thank You” letters. As the days increased, I played bridge with Mr. and Mrs. Richards of Socony, and Mr. Hayes, both of Tientsin, every afternoon when I did not have tea with Mr. and Mrs. George Bliss of San Francisco. We spent an hour in the evening watching the young people dance. The morning of February 12th I looked out of our window to find we were nearing Honolulu. We had our third view of Diamond Head mountain, I knew by the balmy air we were in the tropics. We donned light raiment and found the Captain and officers in whites, which indicates fair weather and good cheer. 110

After being lined up on deck and counted, we were allowed to go on shores our third visit there but one never tires of seeing this wild, carefree beauty spot. We again enjoyed driving to Pali with a bride and groom, Mclaughlans of Southern California. We lunched at the Moana Hotel and after lunch talked with Mrs. Lil- lis and Mrs. Dan Buckley and Catherine Buckley. Mrs. Dan was very eager for all news concerning the death and funeral of Mrs. Gertrude Buckley O’Brien who died just before we sailed on February 3rd. I then walked to the little open air latticed bound chapel in an enchanting garden a few blocks from the Moana which I always enjoy visiting Mr. Irwin, father of Mrs. Elaine Irwin Fagan, built this chapel for his wife. The departure from Honolulu is always a sweet, sad, sensations with melodious Hawaiian music on the balmy air, the departing guests laden with Leis, and our last glimpse of the Kanaka Beach boys swimming back to land with filled mouths of coins that they secured by diving for the usual showers from the onlookers on board. The next morning we settled down to the usual routine which was a mile walk of eight circuits around the deck after breakfasts At 11 A.M. Mrs. Tisdale of Boston, aunt of Mr. Hobart of Socony, whose wife is a writer “Alice Tisdale”. Mrs. Elliot and Mrs. Tracy, the latter’s husband was a Socony man from Java, played bridge with me in the smoking room. I rested after lunch, had tea on the back upper deck with the Hobarts at 4:30. The evenings were diversified by dancing, musical chairs, one evening having Chinese chow at 10:30, lecture by Dr. Ferguson of Peking on the Peace Conference which he had attended in Washington, with vaudeville, and the Captain’s dinner. We passed the ten days between ports very pleasantly. On February 23rd we reached Yokohama at daybreak where we received a wire from the Cornishes, letter from Nora, and a note from Mrs. Sybil Moss of Tokyo inviting us to lunch on that days with directions how to take the electric cars there. Marjorie Fitch of San Francisco who was visiting Sybil, met us in Tokyo in Sybil’s sedan. We were whisked thru the narrow streets and around the sharpest corners to this attractive new house of American architecture 111 but furnished in Japanese artistic style with the house maids in native costume and the native China ware. After a delightful lunch and afternoon we reached the steam- er in time to dress for a wedding and dinner later at the Grand Hotel in Yokohama. Miss Cleary, a charming little southern school teacher from the States who had travelled with us, met her future husband from Shanghai when we reached the port of Yokohama, He had made all the arrangements to claim his bride that evening. I was one of the fortunates to be invited to the church with the Hobarts, Richards, and Mrs. Tisdale. We took rickshaw from the steamer to the hotel where the wed- ding party and guests proceeded to a very attractive stone Protestant church on the bluff which was then the fashionable section of the foreigners in Yokohama. The little bride had brought her white satin wedding gown and veil and made a very pretty picture. After the ceremony we returned to the hotel and to the wedding suite of dining and living room and bedroom, profusely decorated by order of the happy groom. After champagne cocktails were passed, we ladies withdrew and had a din- ner party of our own. My mind now goes back to our ride in “ricks” thru the silent dark streets with no sound but the lapping of the Pacific on the beach. Since then what a holocaust has visited that same vicinity and that interesting old red wooden hotel is no more. When the bride and groom terminated their honeymoon in Japan they were Nora’s neighbors in Shai. We left Yokohoma the next morning. My diary is a blank page for that day as is my mind, only remembering that we sailed that morning at 8 o’clock. Our next desti- nation was Kobel a city I never liked as we found the natives, even the children, disrespectful to the foreigners, especially the Americans, and were dishonest in the shops, selling us three nightgowns but only wrapping two, which we fortunately discovered before we sailed. However, that attitude has entirely changed and Nora found in her recent travels they were more friendly and reliable than the natives of China. After leaving Kobe our daily routine was resumed with bridge and tea in the after- noon which was marked by a superb view of Fuji, with her summit over topping the surrounding clouds. 112

We were fortunate in having a clear view of her while travelling in Japan, generally unusual. The most pleasing event before we reached our destination was a hair cut and trimmed beard which my husband indulged in. He was not half bad looking with his Van Dyke. That day February 28th, 1922, was our happiest since our trip began as we sighted Shanghai about 2:30 P.M.. Saw Nora and Brownie on the wharf waving to us. I had hoped to see Helen also but she could not leave Tientsin then. After going thru the customs, which was no bug bear, as Brownie made the in- spection of our luggage very easy and started it moving on the coolie’s backs. We reached Nora’s new home and found it most attractive and warm with Nora’s indi- vidual touch. She knows how. She made us very comfortable. After a good night’s sleep we awoke on John’s birthday, March 1st, with the singing of the nightingales and different Chinese birds that out warbled our California birds. We drove to our ship the next morning. What for, I cannot remember. We walked from it to the Palace Hotel to see the Blisses. After our lunch with B we stayed home for the afternoon as we had so much to talk about. The Blisses, Greta Railton Cunningham, formerly of Chefoo and a Mrs. Turner had tea with us Mr. Courtney, ex-navy man, spent the evening with us telling us of the trip up the Yangtze river that we contemplated taking, how there were many dangers from the bandits and navigation thru these waters but that the scenery compensated for the fear of risks. The next day was quietly spent, after dinner Nora gave Daddy and I our first lesson in MahJong but my mentally superior husband said he could never learn, he had not the mentality to grasp it. We spent a very happy week with Nora, meeting many of her friends, going to Sunday cold lunch at Dr. Finley’s very fine apartments This party he called his “Sunday School”. Nora’s guest room was not finished in her new home and as she could not make us as comfortable as she would like to have, she thought we should go to Tientsin and visit Helen first which would give her time to finish her unpacking and adjust her belongings which we agreed to do. On March 8th, we took the 9:30 train as far as Nanking which is on the Yangtze river. 113

We crossed the river on a ferry to Pukow where we took another train which brought us to Tientsin. The scenery of China differs from all other lands. The country is slightly rolling, the soil is sickly yellow clays the paddy rice fields of pale green give it its only colors as the shacks of the farmers are mud adobes. Many mounds are scattered thru the fields which are the graves of their ancestors. The beggars seem to come from all directions, on the Yangtze, they are in boats and extend long poles with an open bag on the end, as high up as the deck begging in their filthy rags for alms. Overland, at the depots, the railroads very wisely surround them with a high picket fences the passengers fortunately being able to disembark and walk without being annoyed at close ranges but the plaintive beggings go on in the most forlorn tones, stretching soiled and deformed hands thru the fence posts, some emaciated women with babes on their backs, clothed in the most degrading filthy rags, the raggiest rags they wear the more effective are their garbs of deceit as their begging is a profession, I was told, and they form a powerful wealthy guild. Since our journey to Helen, this railroad system has experienced many vicissitudes. It was between Shai and Nanking where some Americans were kidnapped by Chi- nese bandits and kept in bondage for some time, suffering many hardships and indignities before they were released. Later, when the Civil War thru that country preempted the railroad for the use of the troops, foreign travel was limited. We spent one night on this train and reached Tientsin at 6:30 when we were so happily greeted by the Cornishs, our first meeting since Helen had made China her home. We drove in their Franklin to the apartment where Helen had met her fate. I could see the transformation there, that a woman’s hand had wrought. We were made very comfortable in a large high ceilinged room and modern bath. We spent twenty-two days in Tientsin. Our visit is a bright memory to us now, our last visit with our little girl. I was so pleased to see Helen so happy, although she looked very frail, and to know she was so popular with her new friends. She graced her position of being the wife of “no one” of Socony with great tact. In deed, after her going, her friends told Nora that her death was a heartbreak thru out China. 114

During our visit there we enjoyed many pleasant functions, were wined and dined many times by the Cornishs and their friends, saw the night life in the cafes and dance halls. My memory is very dim of those we met, except the Andersons, Reibs, Baron de Caters, Fullers, the latter was an American Consuls and Neil Gorman the prototype of Marvin. We had many mahjong games in the afternoon and always had tea which was open house for any one who wished to stroll in as we dined at 9 P.M. Afternoon tea is one of the English customs that I heartily approve of, everywhere thru out China it is an attractive feature. Business offices close at 4:30; if the busi- nessmen do not go to the American bar, they wander in for a sociable cup and the many goodies that the Chinese cook excelled in. One Sunday, Helen was giving a jolly lunch party when suddenly the daylight changed to a mustard yellow. I exclaimed “What is the matter?”. There was a scramble for coats and hats and the guests in a hurried goodbye rushed to their homes before the sand storm reached its apex. Helen’s boy and coolies hurried thru the apartment to close every double window, but not withstanding this precaution the inside air was hazy with dust and the furniture was yellow with it. The coolies were busy during the rest of the day dusting. It was an experience for us. I looked out the window but could see only a bank of dust. We spent the rest of the afternoon and evening in doors trying to avoid eating the gritty sand that had swept in from the Gobi desert. While Mr. and Mrs. George Bliss from home were visiting their daughter Mar- ian McCrystal in Tientsin, we exchanged many visits and dinners. Marion was a schoolmate of Helens and was with her exclusively when she died without her fam- ily or husband. Tientsin is quite a flourishing city. Some fine homes and a few substantial public buildings, a few trees on the well swept streets, no park, unless the natives would call the race track a park. To me it seemed to be at the end of this world. However, it was the only spot where one could get a good walk, which we often took. In my memory, now, it is like a nightmare, I would have to be dragged there in chains to visit Tientsin again. Dad had decided to take the trip of China. 115

Up and down the Yangtze river, and had invited the two girls and their husbands, but the boys could not accept as each man of the S.O.S. had to be at his post on account of the threatening conditions in China even then. Dad was advised and the girls wanted him to postpone the trip for a few weeks as the report was that the river was hardly navigable. But Dad was adamant and with his usual Irish luck, the journey was a great success* Nora had left Shai on the first boat of the season “Loong Mow” which had wintered at Shai. We left Tientsin at the same time going to Peking, where we arrived four hours after our final view of Tientsin the city of my grievance. Mr. Holden No. 1 of S.O.S. in Pekingg met us there at 7 P.M. in another Franklin car of the company’s, and drove us to the Grand Hotel de Peking, a fine new hotel that replaced the Wag- on lit in popularity. Mr. and Mrs. Holden dined with us that evening. It was a great pleasure to watch Helen and her husband dancing after dinner. Sunday April 2nd, 1922. After Mass at a very nice church we drove thru Peking, before we went to Mrs. Holden’s for tiffin in a chinese one story house furnished in very good taste. We met Dr. and Mrs. Coltman there, whom we met a few times since and have entertained in our home here. That afternoon we had tea at Miss Nourse’s and American school teacher of the Chinese, who was a sister of Mrs. Hobarts’ who with Mrs. Tisdale were visiting there* The next morning we visited the Catholic Asylum kept by French Sisters who did not speak English. Helen was our interpreter. They were supported by selling embroideries and laces. I ordered the beautiful lunch cloth which was a copy of Helen’s for $75.00. Mrs. Holden and a Mrs. Van Kleack from Pittsburg who was a widow worth forty million and was on her second honeymoon, ordered much linen. Most of the little orphans housed there were abandoned at the convent doorsteps, they all became proficient needlewomen and Ahmas and it was where most of the well to do Chinese looked for wives. After lunch Dad and Al went with Helen and I to Furniture Street where we picked out the consol table for Nora that she wanted for her hall. 116

That night the Holdens dined with us again and saw us off on the 10 o’clock train for Hankow. We spent all next day on the train. Al left us at 2 P.M. to inspect other S.O.S. possessions as he had not the sanction to go further with us. Poor little Helen hated to see her husband leave us. They were so much in love. Mr. Mackay, whom we met on our previous trip in 1919 on the Ecuador, surprised us as being a fellow passenger on this train. He dined at the same table with us and was then living in Hankow. The rest of the trip that day was marked with a void. The absence of Al and little Helen felt it too. Helen had some excitement in her compartment, which now had a vacant berths and opened with folding doors into ours. A Chinese woman came into Helen’s room and excitedly yelled in Chinese at Helen who understood the lan- guage enough to know that the woman wanted that extra berth for her “Titi” which means her “high-toned Lady”. Helen got as equally excited and told her she could not have it. The woman subsided and disappeared but when evening came and I was in the dressing room preparing for the night. I came out as I had heard Helen’s voice again and I encountered the woman in my compartment preparing one of our beds for her “Titi”. We ushered her out unceremoniously and were troubled no more. The next morning at 9 o’clock we reached Hankow. Nora and Mr. Stevens of So- cony met us. He looked after our baggage and had it removed to the “Loong Maw”. After a drive along the beautiful Bund of this river city, which has come into great prominence since then during the Civil War. Mr. Stevens took us to the ticket of- fice where we procured our tickets for the river trip, which trip was crowded with adventures and an accident which I will narrate later. After inspection of our state- rooms on board and approving of same, we went in the Bund again and enjoyed a walk along it and into the shopping district. In the mean time a dispute was going on over the phone between Mrs. Hopkins, wife of No. 1 in Hankow and Mr. Mack- ay. from the train, as to who would entertain us for tiffin. In this case the woman lost but she was not vanquished as she and her husband joined us for lunch with Mr. Mackay. This incident was another proof to the stranger in China, of the servant efficiency there. 117

Three hours after Mr. Mackay left us at the depot he entertained at a luncheon of 12 guests. After luncheon we were in the hands of the Standard Oil members, Mrs. Hopkins took the girls and me to her attractive home where they insisted I should rest. For tea we all went to Mr. and Mrs. Dorrance. Afterwards I expected to go back to the steamer which was to sail at 6 o’clock, but Mrs. Dorrance insisted that we were going out to the Race Track to dance, that the steamer was leaving later. This race track is the show track of all China. We drove thru a tree covered drive of one half mile with lawn and flowered borders. When we reached the track proper we stood on the Club’s veranda viewing the sweeping lawns bordered with many varieties of trees, and at their feet bright flowers again. As this gay party had but one car the ladies were taken out firsts after we had walked through a glassed in corridor, we entered an extensive pavilion that was used for dansantes in the winter while in the summer the center floor was removed and a tiled swimming pool was a life saver for the foreigners in the insufferably hot season. Before our men arrived, Nora began to worry. She said that every day while she and the passengers who had left Shai with her were waiting in Hankow for our party to arrive, had spent the afternoons there and there was no one there then. She felt that there was some mistake about our sailing and that we should go back to the boat as soon as the men came, which we did. Mr. Hopkins insisting on accompanying us back, leaving the others there. What was our surprise when we saw the Loong Mau in the middle of the streams having left the wharfs and blowing her whistles frantically. It meant that we would have to take a sampan to got on board or as Mr. Hopkins said, we could go out in one of Socony’s launches if the steam was still on. He rushed down to the company’s boat house to procure one, if possible. These were tense moments and they seemed like hours while he was gone as the whistle seemed screaming for us. Not much luck for the Olivers this time, as it turned out there was no steam. We had to take a dirty old sampan and after thanking and say- ing goodbye to Mr. Hopkins we were rowed over to the Steamer by two coolies. We had to got aboard by an opening in the steerage Chinese quarters. 118

The first officers called to us “Who comes here”. We answered “The Olivers”. We learned when we had settled on board that the boat had started up stream at 6 o’clock and had gone some distance when this first officer approached the Captain and told him they had left without the Olivers. There was nothing to do but turn back for us and whistle for us, which they did lustily. We found this steamer very comfortable with real beds and running water, There was a center corridor, the entrance to our rooms, a yard wide promenade deck which was on either side from the Captains cabin and bridge to the large canopied deck in the rear which was our social hall, where the young people enjoyed danc- ing by the music from a victrola. It was there that I became proficient in Mahjong. Helen and three of the gentlemen passengers always played bridge. We met all the passengers that night after dinner as Nora had travelled with them from Shai. We were the only new ones. Colonel Timmi was the most interesting. He was a very handsome man prematurely gray, and had been horribly wounded in the War, so much so that he did not know his own name for over a year. His greatest shook in action was to see his favorite nephew blown to bits besides him. The next day was quietly and sleepily spent until we reached Ichang, the largest town on the river between Hankow and Chongqing. We did not disembark as the darkness of a Chinese town was uninviting. At 6 o’clock the next morning we real- ized we had started thru the rapids as we could feel and hear the engines laboring and struggling against the current. We were dressing to go up to the crows nest to see these famous rapids when we saw the first officer rush past our windows which adjoins the Captain’s cabin. He shouted to the Captain “To Stop the boat”. The Captain replied “I cannot stop it or else we will go on this rock“ (which stood up like a Gibraltar beside us) The first officer said “You must as the engine has broken down” Just then Dad looked out the window and saw a naked man with but a towel around his loins, rushing along the deck. He was the engineer who was taking a bath when he heard an explosion in the engine room. Knowing, with his experi- ence, just what it was, he reached and retarded the flow of steam until the boat could be steered past this rock and beached, where we spent three hours during repairs. 119

We made a second start to master the rapids which were indeed, most thrilling. It seemed a gigantic task to force this small boat thru these swirling foaming waters, which are considered the fastest waters in the world, feeling every moment that we would be turned back and be defeated in entering these herculean gorges which were about to encompass us as in each stride we plunged deeper between these narrowing perpendicular sheer cliffs towering thousands of feet, in fact like miles, above us until the blue sky above was like a narrow blue ribbon. On either wall of granite rock each side of us were many holes hewn out of the rock where many coffins were plainly visible about 50 feet above us, indicating that at one time the surface of the water reached to this height. Our fertile minds could picture a sampan funeral thru these waters depositing forever in these niches the ancestral dead of China. Most of the passengers spent the greater part of the day on the upper deck which was called the “Crows Nest”. When we descended for tiffin I noticed many sail- or coolies carrying full mail bags to the Captain’s bridge and office and piling them against the railings even before our windows. On these bags were laid heavy boards, then another layer of bags and other boards until the front left side of the boat nearest the river shore was completely barricaded. I was curious to know what this meant and asked Colonel Timmi and Nora if they knew. Nora said “Mother!” do not be alarmed they are preparing for an attack up stream where they were shot at last year. If you hear any shots just lie down wherever you are.” I was, at first, alarmed, but the business of that day was to devour with our eyes and senses these wonders of Nature, so we went top side again where we spent the afternoon, gazing inspired at these compelling Gorges and looking down at these threatening waters, fearing each minute our sturdy “Loong Mau” would refuse to fight any longer. While we passed thru the first Gorge and came into the open wide river where we were to spend the night. Like the Nile travel, we remained anchored at night. The Yangtze river’s banks are intensely cultivated, resembling green patchwork, as the paddy fields of rice are of a beautiful pale and darker green. As we approached the different towns we always found a pagoda 120 greeting us as we neared the town and another as we left. I remember a specially fine pagoda built up on a lofty rack which was a monastery of monks. One could not see from the river how they ascended or descended. The legend of that monas- tery was that the monks dropped down thru a hollow passage to the beach, enough rice to feed a man for a day, but the Chinese were so greedy they enlarged the open- ing to get more rice, and from then on, the rice supply ceased. We enjoyed a pleasant cocktail party with the Captain and his wife before an only fair dinner that night, not thinking of the morrow but at 6 o’clock the next morning we were awakened with a loud knock on our door with an order that “Mrs. Oliver will go into the Captain’s cabin immediately.” Needless to say I arose in haste, put on my wrapper and slippers and a veil about my hair and rushed to the girl’s room. They had received the same summons and were alarmed also. We hurried shivering along the deck and when we reached the Captain’s cabin we found all the women passengers of the boat huddled together with makeshift costumes on. The Captain and first officer only greeted us with grunts. They were both armed and had peek holes watching for the ambuscade. While passing thru a narrow part of the river we could see the Chinese soldiers at the open windows of a shacks presenting arms. But on seeing our prepared barricades they retired. Then the Captain dismissed these frightened females, who improved their appearance for breakfast and the day. We enjoyed to the full another day of rapture in the last gorge, which terminated the most forceful scenery we have ever enjoyed. For the next two days we remained anchored as the water was too shallow to allow us to proceed. We spent the day playing bridge and Mahjong and in the evening there was dancing as usual. On the morning of the third day the water had risen sufficiently to enable us to continue to Chongqing which was our destination. We could go no further up the country unless we traveled by chair or by pony into Ti- bet. In fact we could only go about Chongqing city by pony or by chair, which was carried by four coolies, as roads were unknown. Our little steamer was a welcome sight to the natives 121 and foreigners who had been looking for her for days as she was the first boat of the season to arrive there. When she steamed thru the turbulent waters between the Native city and the foreign quarters, her whistles were greeted with a thrill by many foreigners who had spent the winter there and were waiting and watching for the “Loong Mah” to arrive. We were there long enough to learn what her second whis- tle meant to them, as it was the signal that we were starting on our return trip. The sound was welcome to us also as we had been marooned there nine days, the waters of the river having lowered so much we could not navigate and we were becoming alarmed that we would be there indefinitely. However, thunder and lightning and torrents of rain such as California has never known, was welcomed and exciting, causing the river to rise. Our stay there was nine days of pleasure, we were anchored just 50 feet from two American gunboats and two English gunboats. The American gunboat was com- manded by Captain Pierce Boden, a San Jose boy whose mother I knew well. Be- sides Pierce and his officers, quite a few Standard Oil men who greeted us and looked after our wants, lived there. They had a bungalow in the “Hills”. We rode in chairs to a luncheon there and I want to tell you it was the adventure of my life to be at the mercy of these four men who grunted every few blocks which was a signal to change the bamboo rods, that were cutting into their bruised shoulders, to the other shoulders regardless if they were on the brink of a precipice or going up slimy nar- row stone steps. This canyon was beautiful but my eyes could see only the dangers before me, dreading the approach of another chair which seemed an impossibility for it to pass us, on these narrow slippery paths. I almost became breathless when the two first coolies turned a corner over a deep chasm. I found that I was in midair with this awful depth below me. When my men reached little Helen’s chair she was so hysterical that she called to her boys in pigeon English to stop. She alighted and walked the rest of the way to the bungalow. We had such a pleasant lunch party of 14. Dad was the life of the crowd, he and I sat at the head and foot of the long tables He arrested everyone’s attention. When he left his seat and came to me and picked a cigarette from the turned up brim of my hat, which solicited a hearty laugh from all. He had rolled it and placed it there for protection before we left the steamer. 122

After lunch and a nice chat on the veranda, we took chairs again and rode thru a lacy forest of deciduous trees to tea at Sandy Reeds and his Mother’s bungalow. When we came down the “Hills” we went between many odoriferous paddy rice fields on the unstable paths. A fall into these mud patches would be most disastrous. I was overjoyed when we reached the launch of the “Palos” that took us to our ha- ven, the “Loong Mah”. Although we were within speaking distance of the Palos, Captain Boden would al- ways send a sailor in a rowboat with a “chit”, in other words a note, and they were always witty. We exchanged many dinners and every evening the officers with their wives and sisters would come over to dance. We were still marooned when Easter Sunday arrived. Captain Boden sent us to Chongqing proper in his launch with three Catholic sailors to direct us to the Church that adjoins the hospital kept by the French Sisters. He also had three chairs awaiting us on the shore but we arrived too late for Mass. The Sisters took us thru the hospital, which was gruesome. On Saturday April 22, 1922, we were awakened by the blow of the siren which meant that the waters had risen sufficiently to allow us to wend our way thru the swirling waters around Tchang’s cliffs, to take our course down the Yangtze, thru the rapids again to Tchang, which took us but a day to reach, whereas we were six days fighting up stream at the same distance. When our boat reached the wharf of Tchang, Mr. and Mrs. Walter Cornee met us and conducted us to their home for tiffin there as he was “No, one” of Socony. We travelled by rickshaw about the town visiting the points of interest. It is a primi- tive Chinese town with no running water conveniences in the houses. We had to leave our good ship “Loong Mah” and travel on the “Sing Tau” reaching Hankow at sunset that night. After we had bid the girls good night, who went below to their staterooms, Dad and I were walking above in the dark. A pipe stretching across the dock caught my foot and threw me full length on the deck. I struck my forehead on a blunt corner of a sky light with a stunning blow, sending my glasses deckward. 123

I put up my hand to feel the bruise when I felt the warm flow of blood which was blinding me, I called to Dad who helped me to my room. While I held my head over the basin he rushed to the girls. Nora remembered that Colonel Timmi had a first aid kit and had learned how to use it during the war. She called him and he came with them and dressed my out which he said was deep enough to see my skull. The dressing was very painful and the headache was severe thru the night. Had I been an inch taller the blow would have struck me across the eyes, thus breaking my glasses and cutting my eyes or a broken nose would have been the result. In a few days the pain had gone and the sear was healing thanks to Dr. Timmi. Two days after my accident we reached the Wang Poo river which is adjacent to Shanghai. In a few hours our glorious trip was over and we were in Nora’s home getting back in time to enjoy the races of three days duration. It is the social event of the years everyone in Shai goes there. After a weeks stay with Nora and Helen, found us on the steamer Golden State bound for home. Our visit to China was much shorter than I expected, but my poor husband had quite a severe attack of colic on the Yangtze and fearing he had contracted the dreaded bug of China, he wanted to get home. Helen remained with Nora for a few days after we left as she had to wait to go back to Tientsin by boat as at that time the internal troubles had begun that devastated China for so many years. The railroads were preempted for troops. On May 5th, 1922 we bid our two girls a sad sweet goodbye, little dreaming that it would be our last farewell to our little Helen, as on September the 5th God had called her taking with her and her little son Alfred. We spent two days in Yokohama, one day in Kobe and one day in Honolulu. After leaving there we received a wire that Jean had a nine pound baby girl. Our little Jean. We went to the Fairmont for a few days, until we could get our new car, a Stude- baker, then we drove down to the Folly. In the meantime, Dr. Hanlon ordered x-rays for Daddy who was still suffering. For- tunately Doctor found nothing serious and he entirely recovered. 124

PART XIV TRIP TO CUBA

On the morning of January 26th, 1929, Adelaide, Mervyn, my husband and I started on the trip that the O’Neills and I had contemplated for about a year. Our first plans were that we three would sail on the “California” Steamship of the Panama Pacific Mail on September 15th, 1928, leaving Bart very comfortably settled in the O’Neill home with Patsy and Helen, their French governess and Chinese cook. However, we planned, but too many steps in the dark at Stag’s Leap Manor precipitated my poor husband on the stone steps about eight feet below the bulk headed lawn, re- sulting in a broken hip which delayed our trip for six months. After such an accident I could not leave him and as one doctor said I should make him go and the other doctor told him it would be a benefiting trip, he decided to go although he thought I should go without him. Our leave taking of our family and friends was a jolly one. We were showered with books, flowers, candy, perfumes and silk stockings. We were on the sea for fourteen days, spending one half of a day and a night in the City of Panama. On February 4th, the morning that we were approaching the Canal and its Zone, everyone was alert to write letters home and send them with Zone Stamps. I wrote to Jean, Bartley and John. We had an early lunch while nearing Balboa, the port of Panama City, and the American Zone bordering either side of the Canal, one of the greatest achievements of engineering in history. How different it was compared to the same Canal of seventeen years ago. Then there was bustle and rustles Where the efficient khaki clad American Zone police ruled, Where the derricks by the hundreds worked so steadily removing the hill- sides into waiting dirt trains that they seemed to be monstrous human hands. 125

Whizzing by them were numerous impudent little rapid transit bobtail engines with side seats that shot here and there. These busy little black and orange beetles seemed to symbolize the living in carrying the military officers and managers of this big job while slipping by the old abandoned machinery of de Lessup’s failure lying by the road side like so many iron dead monsters, which had been there so long that trees had taken root in them and had grown to manhood. Mosquitos, pestilence and death were the enemies of the French, which our people had eliminated. When we arrived in Balboa in 1912 with the San Francisco Chamber of Commerce, Colonel Goethals came on board to receive us. Urged by some of the lady passen- ger, asked the Colonel if there were any mosquitos at the Canal. He replied, “Yes, Madame, we have one on exhibition.” I was properly squelched. In 1912 Culebra City, situated at Culebra Cuts was a lively village occupied by the families of officers and engineers. The American wife and mother had made this spot an attractive abode. A Military band played every afternoon, which drew everyone to the park. Now it is no more, only the barracks of a colored cavalry. After the Canal opened, its first disaster was the slide of the Culebra Cut, eliminat- ing the town but with no loss of life. In 1912 disturbed Mother Earth was facing us everywhere and on her bosom was laid coin by the millions which seems incredible since its completion. Now verdure has come to stay and gladden the eyes, making a picture of red tiled roofed Government buildings, the pale acid green hazy trees, the soil of rich copper colored clay partially covered with lawn. American efficiency is evident everywhere. After lunch we watched our boat anchor, surrounded by American gun boats and men of wars as the two American fleets were stationed there. Many airplanes were flying about us; the wharf was white with officers and sailors, as was also the town of Panama. On landing we took an open machine with an English speaking driver and saw all the sights of the town and the surrounding country. The homes of the Zone were very attractive with so much verdure and color of magenta, pink and red vines. 126

The Tivoli Hotels where we formerly stayed was very attractive and vine clad. We had no time to go in. Panama is growing. Many new homes are building. They resemble somewhat the architecture of the foreign homes in China. The new Mi- ramar Club is beautifully situated on the water. A party of fourteen of us from the steamer dined there that evening, sitting in the open, the bright stars above us. In the near distance we could see the fleet lit up and its lights reflecting in the water. We enjoyed our first planter’s punch there and some very fine white wine. We were amused watching the Panamalian youngsters dancing, They had a fancy swing of their own. There were about as many chaperones as there were children in their teens. All of our party except Mrs. Loop and myself went to Kelly Ritz after leav- ing the Miramar. It is the gayest of cafes and kept by a Mamie Kelly. Mrs. Loop and I took a tiny carriage back to the steamers a delightful drive, being hatless and wrapless. The next morning at 6:00 o’clock we started to go through the Canal. This flowing road carries one through many beauty spots. The looks are marvels of engineering. The old road of gold across the Isthmus lies but a short way from the Canals where the Spaniards transported the treasure of Peru from old Panama to Porta Bella for shipment thence to Spain. The Canal’s channel for more than half its length is up the valley of the Chagres River that was followed for generations by hardy adventur- ers, first the Spaniards then the buccaneer who despoiled him, then the gold hunter California bound. The first great triumph of the American in the Canal Zone was the stamping out of the mosquito by well screened hospital, houses and other ways. Ancon, the American residential districts and Panama City actually touch elbows on the south and east slopes of Ancon Hill, where two streets; Fourth of July Av- enue and Tivoli Avenue become boundaries. One side of the street is Panama with Spanish speech and ways and on the other side is a community wholly American. Seventeen years ago our first morning there, many of our fellow passengers saun- tered down to the train which was taking us to the locks which were under construc- tion then. It was amusing to see their look of surprise when they observed the train moving off, leaving them behind. 127

As the Zone’s conductor said, “They think they are in a manana country and can take their time. They forget that Uncle Sam is running his train.” The next morning everyone was seated and waiting for the train to start. On February 5th, 1929, we started through the Canal, it took the greater part of the day to go from Balboa to Colon on the Atlantic side. Going by the locks was a new experience, tiresome but marvelous. As we stood at the railing looking down into the water. It was some craning for me. On February 6th, we celebrated at dinner the eleventh wedding anniversary of the O’Neills. An extra fine dinner was served and white burgundy was the beverage. On February 8th, after an early breakfast, we were inspected by Havana’s Immi- gration doctor. We were then allowed to board a tender which took us to Havana. After going through the Customs, we went to the Hotel Lincoln. After settling our luggage we began to enjoy the fair City of Havana. To me it was a dream city with a subtle atmosphere, balmy and not too hot, the creamy public buildings, the in- comparable Prado and many statues of large proportions, especially the monument in memory of the Maine whose destruction precipitated the Spanish American War in 1898. The beautiful homes are of the same creamy constructions surrounded by tropical gardens. The public driveways have hedges of bougainvillea which is only known to us as a vine. From the Morro Castles the harbor’s fortification, to the Yacht Club along the Gulf of Mexico on the Malecon, is like a diamond necklace at night.. In the daytime the lines in the water are similar to Honolulu’s beach, the deep blue, turquoise and pale green. The Latin mode of living and sweet language brought me back to Panama, Spain, Italy, Sicily and Mexico, with song in the hearts of the people, even in their poverty. Panama has few beautiful women from our short observation but the Cuban girls, la! La!, with languorous melting velvet eyes, regular features with carmined lips displaying perfect teeth. Powder and paint are adjuncts of their toilet from their toddling age. During the Fiesta I saw baby girls in arms rouged to the limit. The Cuban women are natural born flirts, I shall never question the chaperone stunt there, especially during Carnival Times when the Cuban takes life with both hands, great joyful handfuls of it, and scatters it wastefully, royally and prodigally, The drab business of life is forgotten. 128

We were in Havana during the height of the season, which has its drawbacks, too crowded, too expensive and too independent. We spent a morning and enjoyed lunch at the Yacht Club, found there the steering wheel of the battleship “Maine” and many, photographs of the disaster when she was blown up, which eventually freed Cuba. The United States withdrew its forces as soon as a constitutional gov- ernment was established. After lunch at the Yacht Clubs we drove to the Havana American Jockey Club. According to custom we sat on the famous terrace watch- ing the races. The horses seemed a trifle larger than the Chinese racing ponies in Shanghai, where the owner of the victor horse places a wreath about the neck of her or his horse and leads him in triumph by the spectators, We spent two hours watch- ing, sipping a beverage that we cannot get at home and doing a little betting. I lost $2.00. Adelaide won $12.00. We then went into the roulette rooms, the Monte Carlo of Havana, and like the beautiful resort perched on the cliffs of the indigo Mediter- ranean, the moral atmosphere is not pleasing. That evening Mervyn and I invited the friends we had been with all day and some more to dinner at the Compadora, famous for planter’s punch. After a very good dinner, the piece de resistance being the famous and delicious Moro crab, we went to the pavilion to see the supposedly Cuban game of Jai-Alai or pelata, but it is the Basque game played in the Pyrenees. It was very interesting and exciting. Our day was over at midnight. I found my husband sleeping peacefully as he had excused himself from us young people at the door of the Jockey Club and walked back to Havana with his two canes. I was keen to see the life there and some of its places. Fortunately I saw so much that day as the next morning our animated conversation was of our return home, our second day there, which resulted in the seniors of the party spending only three full days in Havana. Two of these days we spent driving into the country and into the exquisite tropical gardens, the property of a beer owner whose employees pour out beer, gratis. We lunched at the Tropical Cafe, some distance in the country, and later drove through an insane asylum which I wish I had not seen.

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The next day Mrs. Field, Mrs. Stone, Adelaide and I drove in Mrs. Stone’s car into the country again to Cafe Madrid. On my return home that evening I learned that we were leaving for home the next day. Otherwise we would have to wait a week to get other accommodations. Mervyn and I spent the next morn dickering for seven Panama hats, some more perfumery and a last visit to Sloppy Joe’s, one of the unique bodegas which means a combination grocery, restaurant and bar of Havana. An American tourist would consider he had not seen Havana if he missed Sloppy Joe’s, who derived his name from an editor’s criticism, but Joe was smart enough to turn this censure into an advertisement which caused his business to grow; so he enlarged three times. It is a sort of an open bar. Joe sits on his corner counter where he has an elevated survey of his customers, who take high stools which are offered them. Then they are asked their choice of drinks. Joe is a very homely man, looks like a Turk, has a hooked nose and an eagle eye, and misses nothing from his perch. We boarded the United Fruit boat at noon on February 13th, 1929 for New Orleans, then the Southern Pacific and home. We left the O’Neills in Havana. They remained there four days, then to Miami, Palm Beach, Washington, New York and home on March 7th, 1929.

PART XV

MOUNT HELEN - JULY 5TH 1929

Description. This beautiful home, an overgrown Swiss chalet, is a dream realized of our trip and sojourn in Switzerland in 1909. I lost my heart to her typical houses with the outside stairway, open verandas and rocks on the roofs. These three features I could not carry out at “The Folly” as the large family and their friends required too many wings and sleeping porches, but I would and did have the Swiss roofs without the rocks. 130

Our home was named “The Folly” from a conversation we had at dinner in our city home while our home was building in Los Altos in the Spring of 1912. We were discussing the contemplated Parliament of Ireland. My husband remarked, “If it were not for that folly we are building in Los Altos, I would take you all over to see the first Parliament of Ireland.” My exclamation was, “That is what we will call our new home, ‘The Folly’ and at times it was called “Dad’s Folly”. We enjoyed our country home for ten summers and such happy summers we had, notwithstanding the overwhelming cares of such a large household. We moved there on May 24th, 1912 living for twenty-three years in No. 1800 Golden Gate Avenue where five of our children were born and Jack was married while we were there. Three of our girls were married while living in “The Folly”. Kittie and Paul Fay were married at the Mountain View Church by Father Foot on June 5th, 1912. The reception and breakfast were held at “The Folly”. Jean was married to E. A. Free- man on August 25th, 1917 by Father Gleason, who also married Nora to Charles Be Brown a month later September 27. The breakfasts of the three weddings were served on the covered veranda, while we enjoyed music in the patio. Jean’s wed- ding was a military wedding. She cut her wedding cake with her grandfather’s, the general’s sword. She was married on the landing of the stairs in the main hall. Nora was married in the living room. Our household was a happy one there until the fifth of September 1922, when we received the crushing blow of Helen’s death in Tientsin, China. “The Folly’s” name was a misnomer after then and joy had fled. The only consolation we could derive from our sorrow was to offer our home to the Sister of Charity for a summer home for their four hundred orphans of San Francisco, in memory of Helen. The name “Folly” has been changed to Mount. Helen. We have had the comfort to know that much happiness has come to these children and to the Sisters. Two days in the years Helen’s birthdays July 5th, and the anniversary of her going, September 5th, as many of the family as can go to Mount. Helen for Mass and Communion on those two days. We have breakfast there, after. We repeated this ceremony on July 5th, 1929, Helen’s thirty-eighth birthdays three days ago. 131

Our living room, measuring 34’ by 44’ is now the chapel and in that room I feel as I kneel there before that little white communion rail, before the little white alter which obscures our old mantel where many a cozy evening has been spent before its blazing fireplace, that only a few steps would launch us in Heaven with Helen. On the altar is stretched the lace that Helen loved so much and which trimmed her white satin wedding dress. Part of the satin of her dress adorns the altar. The Sta- tions of the Cross are placed on the walls around the room, interspersed between the wood carved chandeliers that I designed and love so. The mulberry velour drapes of the living room now hang as the curtain for the confessional, the priedieux are upholstered in it, and one is a drape for the pianos A very fine oil painting, “The Descent of Christ”, hangs on the chapel wall, a wedding gift to us from the Count, Dad’s uncle. Profuse decorations of flowers from the garden and the songs of the birds outside, mingling with the hymns of the orphans, lifts my heart above as no other spot can do. 132

PART XVI

Sunday the twenty fifth of May, nineteen hundred and thirty began with a bright sun to usher in the first day of an epoch of the progeny of the Connor-Oliver family, for we were to begin our “Connor Caravan” as Jean Fay had christened it. Four house- holds of this happy clan arose that morning with a flutter of anticipation. Bartley and Lorie drove up from Burlingame for an early lunch with me as Bartley was to go with us and assist Kitty in driving. Mrs. Merle’s last stitch was taken before the suitcases were closed, then she started with Oliver, Marie and Jeanne, in the Essex to Golden Gate Ferry, where Bartley, myself and Weber, my driver, met them and crossed to Berkeley on the twelve-fifteen boat, thus realizing that we had actually started on this long contemplated journey. In the meantime, Mrs. Fay in Woodside was completing many fore planned items and had complacently started on her way at three P.M. with Jean, Patsy, Paul and Nancy. We had planned to meet at the Hotel Senator in Sacramento and spend the first night there. Kitty’s direction there was over the Dunbarton Bridge by way of Livermore. We took the Tunnel Road from Berkeley through the beautiful delta country at the mouth of the Sacramento River. We arrived earlier than the Fays and enjoyed the Capitol grounds before dinner, which are opposite the hotel. After dinner we strolled through the capitol and grounds. It was this same capitol building, the foundation for which my father held the con- tract to build for ninety-nine odd thousand dollars in 1861 and 1862; but he was released by the Legislature when he volunteered and was ordered to Utah with his command. I had hoped to have formed a larger Caravan party than three cars, but half of my family could not take the time to travel by motor and traveled by train and waited to take the same route that my father had taken from California to Utah with his troops when my mother and brother Maurice accompanied them. I learned the exact route they took from an old letter of one of his soldiers which I know will be interesting. At the time this letter was written, Lake Tahoe was called Lake Bigler. However, I learned in time through the Automobile Association that this way was impassable at the time that we had to travel to get to Fort Douglas on May thirtieth. 133

I will insert here the soldier’s letter: Lake Bigler, July 21, 1862.

“I wrote you last from Lincoln’s ranch near Placerville on July 19th, Sunday fol- lowing we rested some place, had dress parade as usual, a large concourse of ladies and gentlemen visited the camp to see the soldiers and witness our noble Colonel (Connor) putting the battalion through the dress parade. Monday morning we started rather late, in consequence of having inspected some wagons considered unfit for the march, ten of which were sent back to Stockton. The road to Placerville was steep for about a mile, then a sudden and steep descent. The band was playing through the town of Placerville. Reports having been made to the Colonel that a few of the men had entered a gro- cery while at rest at Smith Flats and had partaken of a strong stimulant without paying therefor, the Colonel, who is very particular about the citizen’s rights, had the long roll beaten to collect the troops and find out the offenders. Those who were discovered were punished and the Colonel paid the complainant for his losses. We camped at Smith Flats a half-mile east of town. This was a pleasant camping ground, abundance of wood and water and good shady trees to sit under, being Camp 7.”

Tuesday, July 22, 1862.

“Started early and had a good steady march. Camped near Sportman’s Hall. The Proprietor, Mr. John Blair, was very accommodating; provided those who wished with clean towels and water to wash with. There is a steam saw-mill here and high pressure pipes to convey water to the hotel. It is situated on the north side and close by, overlooking the South Fork of the American River. This day was warm and roads deep with loose dust, much to our annoyance, this being Camp 8.

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Wednesday, July 23, 1862.

“Made an early start, about half-mile from here was very steep, the remainder of day’s march was on splendid road, well graded, on which there are several toll houses. Prices of tolls are as follows:

Laden four-horse wagon $2.50 Two-horse wagon 1.50 One horse wagon 1.00 Saddle horse .50 Loose horses or mules .25 Sheep, goats etc. .10 Rates of toll are cheaper as you near the summit.

After eleven miles of march we camped at Ogilby house, mostly in the brush in consequence of not being able to do better. The wood and water was very conve- nient. Here we received a magnetic telegraph dispatch, which the operator wrote but gave to the troops to read. Being Camp 9.”

Thursday, July 24, 1862.

“We made an early start, keeping on the South Fork of the American River. The road here was excellent, close to Base rock, which is about 500 feet high, having the road as a base line. We had a splendid camping place on the bank of the river. Some of the boys climbed up to the top of this rock and erected a pole at its apex with the stars and stripes unfurled to the breeze. This morning one of the regimental herders tried to lasso an ox but the quadruped, as if sensible of his earthly career being in jeopardy, ran furiously through the camp to no small terror to those in line of his retreat, pursued by his executioner, mounted on swift Cabelle. Men, women and children made a general retreat from the ‘bull run’ amidst yells and wild exclamations. Being Camp 10. 135

Strawberry Valley, July 25, 1862.

“From Camp 10 we made an early start along the north side of the American River, the road was of good grade until within three miles of Strawberry Valley, at which place there were several men at work completing the road. The remainder of the road was rough and uneven.

However, the place looked romantic; the sound of the rippling water of the Ameri- can River, the craggy and bare hills and the splendid forests, the tinkling of team bells traveling back and forth -- all are romantic amidst the snow peaks. Strawberry Valley is in the shape of an elipsis and contains about twenty acres of land. Little or no cultivation. It contains four or five houses. Liquor here is selling for twenty five cents, hay for five or six cents a pound, barley eight to nine cents, and other things in proportion. Being Camp 11 J.”

July 26, 1862.

“Started from camp at daybreak and crossed the American River four times before ascending to the summit from which we could see Lake Bigler (now Tahoe) at the distance of thirteen miles. The view from the summit is beautiful. The road from this high ridge to its base has a steep and winding descent. Near its base we crossed the Little Truckee River. At its base is the Lake Valley House, a two story frame building – thence to the Lake is nine miles, a very good road. Lake Bigler is forty by thirty miles, on the Northeast and west is bounded by lofty pine covered hills, on the south is an extensive flat or large area of bottom land, covered with beautiful pines. On the south also is an excellent sandy beach. At the present time the lake is six feet higher than it has ever been known to be before. On the northwest is Squaw Flat from which the road runs to Georgetown. We camped on the south side of Bi- gler House. All progressing fine with us. Peace and harmony reigns in our midst. Nothing is lacking save one thing to fulfill the desire of the whole battalion and that is to meet the common enemy. Nothing would please the battalion more than to go East and help crush the rebellious traitors of the South.”

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On Monday morning, May 26, 1930, this happy clan of Olivers, Merles, and Fays arose early and alert to start on their first long day’s journey out of beautiful Cali- fornia. We had planned our regular formation would be, the Merles Essex to take the lead, the Fay Buick next, and the La Salle brought up the rear. I felt in that way I had my eye on my family and Weber could assist them in any emergency.

We left the Hotel Senator at 8:35 A.M. We circled the Capitol grounds to enjoy the beautiful trees, flowers and fountains before leaving our Capitol City, which should be visited by every Californian. Its beauty is worth the trip. On leaving Sacramento we went by Auburn and found this little town to our liking and were interested in see- ing Pete’s old home, the “Hotel Freeman”, which was quite extensive and would not be half bad if the interior was as attractive as the exterior. With the exception of five miles detour in the mountains beyond, we found the road excellent and enjoyed the beautiful scenery. Near the summit we encountered some snow which was the first some of the children had ever seen. Of course they had to leave the cars and had a pitched battle of snow-balls. After reaching the summit we started down Donner Lake Bridge which was a heroic piece of engineering and afforded a grand sight beyond Donner Lake where so many hapless emigrants lost their lives. We planned to drive to Tahoe Tavern for lunch but learned on reaching Truckee that the Tavern was closed. Our only choice was the California Restaurant in Truckee. In this hostelry, the Fay children spied the slot machines, which came as a hang over to them from last sum- mer when their father Paul taught them their manipulation when they were returning from Feather River. They taught their cousins the fascination of the game and the seven fairly swarmed about this forbidden sport in San Francisco. Lunch was forgot- ten at first. If this sport continues along the road the small change will all be in pawn. Patsy Fay was the lucky gambler. We arrived at the Golden Hotel in Reno at 2.45 P.M. After choosing our rooms, which is no small task, we indulged in soft drinks and drove around this divorcees paradise. The air of expectation to encounter the misfits in Reno is like the atmosphere one lives in Hollywood, guessing that every attractive person one sees is of the movies. We saw three attractive lone women meet at the Grand Hotel Cafe. Their attractive appearance belied they were natives of Nevada. The watching of this trio was like seasoning to our meal. 137

We all spent a fretful night as our rooms looked down on an alley where the rif-raf congregated and never knew when the day ended. There was a fire in our block in the small hours of the morning, which filled our rooms with smoke and alarm.

I was the fortunate one to sleep thru the rumpus as my only good ear was hidden in the pillow. We left Reno the next morning with no regrets, that day has no bright spots in it as the desert was our course. However, when the dusk was nearing I saw a beautiful picture, three tiers of mountains rising from the drab desert. Stone shades of the first mountain greeted the long slanting rays of the departing sun. Above that the palest greens and greys, then the snow-capped monarch piercing the blue sky and the souffle clouds above. We arrived in E1ko about 6.00 P. M., the town I had spent three weary days in four years ago, result of machine repairs. I had warned my children that they would be bored there, but they all declared that they liked it better than they did Reno. Al- though the night was as disturbing with airplanes, stage busses, and much humming and shouting from a wide open gambling hall just below us, as was Reno. We awakened the next morning with great anticipation, as we were to arrive at our destination before sunset. The day was sweltering. We had delays with flat tires, as the alkali desert road was very rough which meant that the Caravan stopped on masse. The trouble came when we were far away from a garage, where we could find no “Fat Boys” or “Hot Dogs” for lunch. Therefore we pushed on until we came to a Mormon village at 2.00 P. M. This village had many earmarks that I remem- bered as a child, green grass instead of California plowed earth under the fruit trees. Plentiful water everywhere but poverty and neglect stalked at each house. How- ever, we found a home restaurant, poor but clean in this little town called Grants- ville, where the little withered mother of 60 and her two puny daughters served us pleasantly. In the long interval of waiting for a new meal to be cooked we became famished and ate ravenously in the humid heat. Patsy Fay surprised us by fainting. I ordered from the car my “drug store” as the children called my Zip medicine bag, and gave her some aromatic spirits of Ammonia which revived her and she entirely recovered. We reached the hotel Utah in Salt Lake City at 4.30 we thought, but discovered we had lost an hour on the way and it was 5.30 Eastern Time.

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We had some difficulty in getting adjusted in our rooms as our written request for rooms together or on the same flour had not been heeded. However, Kitty used her usual persuasive manner with the Mormon minister at the office desk, thus placing Jack’s and Kitty’s family near Dad’s and my suite of two bedrooms and baths and a large corner sitting room which was more than useful when the rest of the family arrived by train the next day, making a party of twenty-four. That evening Captain Rogers called. It seemed like meeting an old friend as we had corresponded for the last two years concerning our mutual interest, as both are writing my father’s life. Indeed! Most credit is due the Captain for the complete arrangements for the unveiling on May 30th. Captain invited the girls and myself to visit Fort Douglas the next afternoon and view the General’s new monument, which we considered very refined and excel- lent and a good likeness of my father, besides some script below. The lower corners were marked with the figure of the miner and his pan, symbolic of my father’s be- ing called the “Father of Mining”, and in the other corner, a Connor tent which was used in his campaigns which consisted of an excavated square four feet deep and tent covered, I knelt at my father’s grave in prayer, then realized what thirty-nine years had wrought in his resting place. I was then kneeling for the third time at dif- ferent monuments. In 1893 1 was shocked at the neglect and havoc in this land of the gallant dead, a stone obelisk over my father was leaning from its foundations as the squirrel holes under it and about the grave had undermined it, the fence about the cemetery was demolished and neglect was supreme. This plot was a gift from the Government, delivered to my father on August 21st, 1899, endorsed by the Secretary of War for the last resting place of himself and immediate family and on receipt of it he exclaimed, “I have got a dead corner of the Government at last.” At the time, while the government was neglecting her dead, the Gentiles of Salt Lake City were raising subscriptions, giving banquets, manufacturing General Connor cigars. (The Company sent me a box of these cigars with a portrait of the General on the ring. My husband sampled one, and it was so strong that I gave the box to the gardener.) 139

In order to erect an equestrian statue to the General, prominent men of that time, and his old friends such as Senator Clarke of Montana, who pledged the bronze from his mine for the statue. Senator Kearns of Utah and Mr. Keith, Mr. Don Ma- guire, whom I met at the unveiling, May 30, 1930, and have since had a long remi- niscent letter from him, eulogizing my sire. However, after a considerable sum had been subscribed and given, and placed in the care of the Salt Lake Tribune, the country experienced a serious slump, the scheme was abandoned for the time being and the money returned. The World War came and the Fort was used for a hospital. War prison and Detention camp for hos- tile aliens. When I saw the Cemetery in 1926, a fine iron fence surrounded it and I found my family plot restored with simple tombs, each to my father, brothers Maurice and Ned, to the latter’s wife and adopted child. Just back of the Cemetery at the foot of the Butte mountain which mountain supplied the stone for the present monu- ment, is the spot where my father first camped with his troops and the same spring of water that was in use then is in use now. That Thursday afternoon, late May 29th, the family who travelled by train arrived, Daddy, Mervyn, Adelaide and Patsy O’Neill, Jean Freeman and her two children, Billy and Jean, John and Billy Oliver, Lorie Oliver, Senior and Junior Leo Merles and Paul Fay. At 7.30 we met for the first time. Colonel and Mrs. Price, Mrs. Fred Rogers and Captain Schwatel who dined with us, also Captain Rogers. Before we left the sitting room to enter the din- ing room below, we developed the comradeship of old friends and later enjoyed a delightful evening. The next morning was the day we had planned and waited for, for months. It was the great achievement of my later years, to stand at my father’s grave with twenty-three members of my family. The day was overcast and windy but warm. We arrived at the Cemetery at 9:45 A M. where Commander Colonel Price met us and accompanied us to the temporary field for the parade just before the Cemetery and beyond the Connor Road. I stood forward between my husband and the Colonel while the family and Mrs. Price and Mrs. Rogers and their children stood behind us.

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I had never reviewed the military formality of the Army before and was so much impressed that I experienced a genuine thrill. The Colonel stood beside me with his unsheathed swords giving his orders. When the different platoons passed and when those fine American boys with “eyes to right” faced us, the band playing a military march followed by the flags, the moment was so intense I followed my impulse and removed my hat to the colors when the Colonel and my husband did. Over this scene I was in spirit with my father who had often stood on this spot commanding his troops and looked as we did from that tableland at the foot of the snow-capped Wasatch Mountains over fair Salt Lake City to Bingham Canyon where the first ore was discovered and then to the Great Salt Lake. After this ceremony we drove to the Cemetery where we were given our allotted seats for the unveiling, I sat at the Colonel’s right and next to him was Mr. Ledyard, President of the Utah Historical Landmarks Association. Next to him was Captain Rogers, who outlined my father’s history clearly and concisely. Chaplain Kelly sat at my right. He spoke the invoca- tion. The dedication was spoken by Colonel Price. When it was my turn to perform this commander and good sport said in an undertone to me, “Are you ready?” With my answer, “yes”, he escorted me to the flag covered monument. In a consequential moment I lifted the corner of the Stars and Stripes which was taken from my hand by two soldiers, thus showing to those who stood about what their generosity had made possible. This last token of esteem was for an old soldier whose heart was in the work he accomplished in Utah. The salute of 13 guns awakened sentiments of Militancy again and when the Star Spangled Banner came on the airs that was the supreme moment. I was motionless as were the military about me and no one evinced more sentiment than my son Bartley, the soldier son of his gallant Grand- sire. How proud I was of my family who formed a civil platoon of their own, num- bering 23. Five of the old veterans of my father’s time passed by the tomb of the old General and each placed a rose upon it. After the ceremony, my father’s and brother’s old friends crowded around me weeping sentiments of esteem which proved that he was very affectionately re- membered. I did not know we had so many old friends still in the land of the living in Utah. 141

Mrs. Bamburger, widow of Utah’s former Governor who was killed in Europe, left the unveiling of the monument to her husband on the same morning to greet me and express esteem for my father. A Mr. Smith, who is still a mystery to me, came for- ward twice with tears in his eyes and presented me with a rosary of the little flower. At the conclusion, we were invited by Mrs. Price to visit her home headquarters where we enjoyed coffee, ice cream and cake. It was after then, at 12.00 noon, the Colonel and Captain Rogers ushered us to the real Parade Grounds where there was a salute of 21 guns, the raising of the flag and military airs again. From there we drove to the troops’ mess, barracks and stables. What a grooming Colonel Price had given Fort Douglas during his command of the last two years. Where we saw neglected buildings and lawns on our last visit there in 1926, fresh paint and green grass had transformed it. The Colonel’s eighteen year old daughter, Jane, had won our hearts with the charm of manner of her parents. She found two gallants in Leo and Oliver Merle, and re- turned with us to lunch at the Utah. A miniature golf game and movie killed time for the children that afternoon while the elders drove through the city and visited the Capitol. We had another big dinner party that night with Bertha and Sue Hempstead as guests. That evening found me exhausted after one of the fullest days of my life crammed with success, sentiment and felicity. I had told the children so much about the Great Salt Lake, a mysterious body of intensely salted water, the source of which is unknown and advised them not to bring their bathing suits, only their caps, as rented suits could be easily shed. Being a crystal mass of salt, thereof a fresh water shower was necessary before dressing. We had planned to spend Saturday morning there at this great Pavilion. “Salt Air” which the Mormons built on the lake many years ago, but a rain storm prevented. It was the one disappointment of our trip.

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Among one of the enterprises of my father’s was a steamer he built in the lake, called the “Kate Connor” for excursions about the lake and to carry ore. But the salt water clogged up the machinery so it became a total loss. I have spent many pleas- ant hours on the lake. When I was 16 years old I spent my summer vacation in Salt Lake City with my parents, we enjoyed a week at Black Point on the lake and took a salt dip before breakfast each morning. At that time my father was president of the first Utah railroad system started by the Gentiles. The first engine was named the “Kate Connor” (I have a photo of it stowed away.) During that summer he gave me the use of his private car by which I invited my friends to an excursion to the lake one afternoon. It was amusing to see everyone floating about, the men with folded arms, smoking. Swimming is very difficult in this salt water. Little Billy Freeman, while in Salt Lake City, remarked that he was tired of seeing so many statues and pictures of Brigham Young. His sister Jean answered, “I would not look at him, he tried to plant a peach tree in my great grandfather’s stomach”, which was a slightly mixed story of one of Brigham’s course remarks which he made in one of his sermons, that “He would outlive General Connor so many years that when the General died he would plant a peach stone in his stomach from which a tree would grow up and he would eat of the fruit.” However, he died fourteen years earlier than did my father. The last night we were to be together in Salt Lake City, we dined at the Rotisserie, a French restaurant, which was very good. (The proprietor asked if we were all one family. I told him we had come to be present when I unveiled General Connor’s monument. He was quite enthusiastic, had given towards it, and assured me that my father was very highly thought of.) Half of the family, twelve left that evening on the 9:10 train for home. The mem- bers of the Caravan felt quite a void when the others left. We had spent together two days that will always be a happy memory. We were to depart the next morning which meant packing, early retiring, and early rising for 8:00 o’clock Mass. 143

Kittie, her two girls, Jean and Patsy and I, enjoyed breakfast that morning with Mrs. Fred Johnson, near Fitch of Fitchville, a family settlement at the Fitch mine just Out of Eureka, Utah, where we visited her family that afternoon en route. After farewells to Colonel, Mrs. Price and Jane who called, also to Bert Hempstead and to Mrs. Johnsons we were on our way at 11 o’clock June 1st, 1930. By some mistake Kittie and Jack took a different road, going by way of Provo where they had lunch. We anxiously looked for them en route but did not see them until we met at the home of Mr. & Mrs. Walter Fitch in the afternoon, the parent home where, my husband, Nancy, Fay and I enjoyed a nice lunch. Mrs. Maud Fitch Hilsdale and her son were also there. Later we visited the son’s home. We spent that night at the Forest Hotel, Nehpie, a town named after the book of Mormon. After dinner we walked through the little town, which had so few cared- for- homes and many neglected ones. Nevertheless the adobe brick houses were of quaint architecture, some with two front entrances, suggesting that they had been built during the years that polygamy had been practiced and that two unhappy women lived under the same roof. During our travels thru Utah I questioned in my mind the reason for so much pov- erty in most of the towns we passed through. Not withstanding the plentiful supply of water, with many flowing streams on the road side, Could it be that the Mormon church was demanding too much of her people in the tithing of 10% of their earn- ings? The distant landscape was most picturesque with many poplar trees towering above other species and the distant snow-capped mountains of the rugged Wasatch range which I should have a liking for as I was born within their shadow. The next night was spent at Brice Canyon, the first of the three Utah Parks Com- pany resorts, which we visited; they are built alike, one building contained office, dining room, dance hall and curio shop. The sleeping quarters are cabins deluxe with open fireplace, bathrooms and porch. The other cabins have no running water, two rooms and four beds. The four older girls enjoyed these latter cottages. 144

Oliver and Paul had another cottage. Dad and John had a deluxe. Jack and I one, and Kittie and Nancy another. These were our arrangements at the three parks. On reaching the rim of Brice Canyon we were inspired with nature’s whim, where wa- ter and the beautiful red Arizona sand stone have made a huge chessboard of fan- tastic figures, varying as the shadows fell. We spent the night at Brice. From there we drove next morning for sixty miles through the most enchanting forest of yellow pine and quaking Aspen, the ghost trees, with their white trunks and branches and shimmering pale green leaves. We were passing thru at the beginning of dusk when the deer were in the open, feeding. The children had a great thrill counting them. In our car we counted 252 deer, in the Fay car they boasted of 283. We reached the North Rim of Grand Canyon after dark just before the dining room closed. The next morning the children took the trails on horseback. We drove to Royal and Imperial points where the views showed thousands of feet below us blending hues of pink and lavender and with red and yellow rocks down to the lazy winding Colorado River. With such a picture, our worries and ills seem but mere atoms in this mighty ex- panse of centuries. That day, June 4, 1930, was the eighteenth anniversary of the marriage of Kittie and Paul Fay, Her girls were very busy with the elaborate preparations for a dinner party that night. Jean and the Captain of the dining room ( an ex-aviator of the Prussian Army during the War) planned the decorations of pine cones and gifts from the curio shop. Felicitatious telegrams were exchanged by the separated couple. The next morning, while we were loading our cars, seven of the Mormon waitresses stood in line before us and sang a farewell ditty to us “regretting we were leaving, sorry to see us go” “and wishing us a safe journey”. I must comment, that the third generation of Mormons from Brigham’s time have developed into a fine, wholesome and bright generation of young women, good looking and competent and have found employment almost entirely at the three parks. They must be eighteen years of age, before getting employment as a waitress. Some are working for college.

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Our drive that day was thru the forest again but we only saw seven deer. Utah has a few lessons to learn in road building, instead of having detours, we had to pass over a road that was in the making. We tried to force our way through the ploughed furrows of deep dust and rocks. The Essex and Buick succeeded in passing by an oil truck and the Utah stage that were stuck but we needed assistance to struggle past. That afternoon, we enjoyed passing thru the tunnel to Zion Park 5,607 feet long where it continues to ascend in a 5% grade. This tunnel follows quite closely the face of the cliff and at six intervals are excavated openings, called bay windows, but are more like galleries, overlooking the canyon below and the majestic cliffs above. This tunnel is considered one of the finest engineering feats of these times. Coming out of the tunnel, one descends over a zig-zag road of six switchbacks into the Pine Creek Canyon, thus this Mount Zion-Carmel Highway has been called the “most spectacular feat of highway construction ever undertaken.” What was our delight when we drove into the floor of Zion’s National Park and found ourselves surrounded by huge perpendicular bronze cliffs and peaks and the “Great White Throne” which is the only pale rock in Zion and stands above like a ghost in the night. We were no more than segregated in our cabins when the children, who were hot and dusty, took a plunge in a beautiful artificial pool. One felt that one was too encompassed in this beauty spot, more so than in Yosemite Valley but I learned that both dimensions are similar. The next morning our party of twelve motored three miles to begin a walk to the “Narrows” consisting of a mile of a most pleasurable walk with my family. It was a finely rock covered path by the side of a tumultuous river where rare trees and many wild flowers were numerous. Maiden hair and mosses lived in many little nooks. Yellow Columbine bordered an amphitheater of many-colored rock. The children enjoyed splashing rocks into the river, catching pollywogs and frogs. We left Zion the next morning sharp at 8:00 o’clock, as we knew we would have a long day crossing the desert, and found it our hardest day of the trip. We encoun- tered so many detours and deep dusty roads with the desert winds like a furnace. After sandwiches at Glendale we pushed on to more detours. We reached Las Vegas at 2:30 where Jack was overcome by the heat, but was soon revived by aromatic spirits, which I always carry. 146

After cool drinks and some more sandwiches we hurried on determined to complete our 281 miles to Barstow. We arrived there at 7 P.M. Our previously engaged rooms were awaiting us at Fred Harvey’s depot hotel. After our first real meal that day we retired early as we had planned to travel in the cool of the next morning. John was called at 3:45 as he was leaving us and taking the 5 o’clock train to Los Angeles to meet his wife, Billy. When we came down stairs for breakfast John was still waiting for his delayed train. We left Barstow sharp at 6 A.M. The drive thru the Mojave desert so early in the morning was delightful. Either side of the road was carpeted with wild flowers of yellow and all shades of blues and lavenders. After another breakfast at Mohave station we hurried on over the Techapi Pass to Bakersfield, planning that we would get there in time for 10:30 Mass, but found after getting there on time that the last Mass was at 9:30. We drove to the Hotel Tejon and waited in the cool lobby until lunch time. After a good lunch there and another rest until 3 P.M. we took the road to Taft and from there across the hills to Cuyama Valley and then down the Cuyama Valley along the Cuyama River to lovely Santa Maria Inn. On our way there Oliver had trouble with his radiator leaking and as we brought up the rear we had many delays. We tried towing him and were successful but a short distance when the tow rope broke. However, we reached Santa Maria Inn in time for dinner and the night, our last night en-route, as the next night our perfect Caravan tour would be at an end, and we would be in our own homes again regret- ting that it was over. One of my happiest memories of the trip is the sweet thoughtfulness of my children and the consideration and good behavior of my grandchildren, 147

PART XVII

KNOW YOUR FATHER

All men should have a fad or fancy, there are many. This good man of ours has two, his books and his Corporal works of Mercy which are: To feed the hungry; to give drink to the thirsty, to clothe the naked; to harbor the harborless; to visit the sick; to visit the captive and to bury the dead. In his silent way he has lived up to all these with the exception of visiting the cap- tive, which he would gladly do if he had the occasion to do so, and to bury the dead. His synonym should be Mr. Corporal instead of Mr. Cypher. In the Spring of 1919 this latter fad of his must have taken root as he gave to his children, all his real estate, telling them that they would always have bread and but- ter, and if they wanted cake, they would have to labor for it, thus giving them an incentive to work for the sweets since that time, with the efficiency of Miss Clifford and Mervyn O’Neill, and a few additions by generous Mr. Corporal, their bread and butter has changed into sweet coffee cake and if we can judge from the past, a rich layer cake will be served in the future. My good husband made me very independent and above financial worry. As he has provided so bountifully for his own, why should he not satisfy his yearning and conscience and perform charities as he sees the need for Gods unfortunates, even “ner-er-do wells”. After we had given our home, which has been described in another chapter, there was a crying need for a new home for unmarried mothers. During our meetings of the Little Children’s Aid, a Catholic Charity for Orphans and half orphan girls, Father Powers, our director, told us how many of these poor girls were going to Mary’s Help Hospital for succor. They could not be refused but they were crowd- ing out the legitimate mothers, so a new charity for San Francisco was born and as usual the good Sisters of Charity were the instruments to make it possible. After it was in working order, it was housed in an old residence surrounded 148 by an old fashioned garden near the Bay’s end of Van Ness Avenue. All concerned realized that this was only a makeshift, as the building was a firetrap and hazard that worried good Sister Fidelis constantly. By that time, at one of our Aid meetings, Father told us that some good gentleman had volunteered to build an up to date hospital finer than any hospital of its kind West of Chicago. It was good news but it did not strike home to me as my husband had not mentioned the fact that he was the donor, However, when it was completed and occupied,$ we were a very happy family who attended the opening Mass in the exquisite little chapels celebrated by his Graces Archbishop Hanna on Febru- ary 2nd, 1928 at 100 Masonic Avenue. The altar is a gift from Mrs. Christine Par- rott Donohoe. Mr. and Mrs. Eugene Conlon gave the Blessed Mothers statue, Mr. Henry Hoffman the St. Joseph statue and Marie Hoffman gave two electric lamps on either side of the altar. After Mass and breakfast with His Grace, we went thru the building while he blessed it. It is the last word in equipment for obstetrics. Besides the two and four bed dormitories there is a large assembly room where these poor girls meet, waiting for their time of travail. Since the opening we have a family reunion once a year, attending Mass and going to communion. After a happy breakfast there we again visited this efficiently run institution and contemplate these little half orphans and orphans, so well eared for. On our last visit there were 70 babies and 15 expectant mothers, the latter we never see. Sister Fidelis has made this establishment a noted success. The next charity that was brought to our attention after it had been silently built and established was St. Patrick’s Shelter on Minna Street, opened in 1926, and being in the parish of Monsignor Rogers, St Patrick’s Church. My good husband gave it in care of the Monsignor, which became and is one of the beneficiaries of the Com- munity Chest as are also St. Elizabeth’s Hospital and Mt. Helen in Los Altos. St. Patrick’s Shelter is a large concrete and steel building of two floors and a base- ments well ventilated and 70 degrees steam heated. 149

There are beds of black irons the head raised, a thick rubber pad substituting mat- tresses and pillows, no blankets, instead a flannelette nightgown. The temperature is kept warm enough not to require more covering, in that way eliminating the pos- sibility of vermin. Each floor is well equipped with lavatories, showers, toilets and basins, plenty of hot water and soap where the men can wash their clothes as well as themselves. Each bed is supplied daily with a clean crash towel as well as the gown. A barber is there with his chair and equipment for hair cuts and many razors are kept sharpened for the men’s use. Mr. McGuire, the manager and Godfather of these unfortunates, has proved great efficiency and kindness and has found employment and hospital care for many of them. With this successful scheme of housing the City’s indigent there seemed a need for feeding them, which was the next suggestion to my husband’s fertile mind. To care for his native city’s poor. Thus his next charity was the building of the Kitchen. Another concrete and steel building of one floor, well lit with skylights for light and ventilation. The building is 75 x 75, the exterior severely plains a marble slab being the only ornament on which is carved the letters “A.M.D.G.”. The first letters of the four worded Latin sentence, which when translated reads “To the greater glory of God”, and then the date 193. This is a phrase that this good donor has had placed on all of his buildings of charity, even in our old home Mt. Helen. The following description of the Kitchen is quoted from the San Francisco News, an evening paper, written on January 17th, 1931, some data after the opening Janu- ary 8th. “Hunger Sole Qualification for Meal at the Kitchen” By Betty Briggs “If they are hungry, ask no questions - feed them.”

That is the only rule governing “The Kitchen”, the newly opened institution given to the city that the destitute, unemployed and hungry men of San Francisco shall not go without food. 150

The carefully planned structure, with its large combined cooking room and cafete- ria and model clinics was the gift of Mr. Cipher, a man who for many years has been interested in helping the single men of his native city. His first gift was St. Patrick’s Shelter his second, “The Kitchen” at 52 Rich St. Long before daybreak the breadline forms before the building. It grows until it reaches Folsom Street. Monitors watch it as it grows, pick out the aged, the cripples and takes them to the clinic to rest. When the doors are opened, these men are the first to be admitted, taken to a reserved table and served by waiters.

The younger men pass before the kitchen counters and carry their food to the long tables built in the huge room*

Two meals a day are served - breakfast and supper

For breakfast there is sometimes fruits always coffee, mush and syrup and bread. Dinners consist of stew, rice curry or pork and beans, bread and coffee.

As many as 3,700 men have been served at one meal since the Kitchen was opened January 7th.

Captain Stephen Bonner of the Southern Police Station is in charge of distributing meal tickets.

The Board of Health has appointed Dr. R. L. Stine to take charge of the clinic in connection with the institution. He started his work Monday and to noon Thursday he had treated 125 men for minor ills.

“At least 80 percent of those who come are looking for jobs - take free meals only because they are forced to,” McGuire says.

In those lines, which form hours before meals are to be served, are well dressed men, clean shaven fellows who never before have known what it was to be hungry.

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Many who have been fed have written to their unknown benefactor. They don’t knows those thousands, that many nights he stands quietly in a corner watching them, helping this palsied follow, wondering if that one has had enough to eat.” Mr. Cipher is a counterpart of Mr. Zero, Manhattan’s denison of Skid Row. Incited by communist agitators February 2nd followings a mob of 200 men battled police at a wild attempt to take control of the Kitchen and cried out–

“We want porterhouse steaks” “We want pork chops.”

Five men were arrested with communist papers. They were the leaders and cried out “Fight Comrades”. These men were jailed for a short time, fed by the city and allowed to go their way instead of being sent out of the United States, as they were no doubt alienists. Dad insists that his identity should be unknown. At this time he was supposed to be 76 years old, but he was really 76. The lot and building cost upwards of $25,000.00. There are no requirements, moral or otherwise, no discrimination of race or color, one only need to be hungry. Dad is quoted as saying, “I am to be given no credit, I am only fortunate to have the money to spend in this way”. He would not refuse these hungry men any more than Christ refused succor to sinners. On January 30th, 1931, Mr. Cipher wrote to nine prominent men, two of them being clergymen, and asked them to serve as a committee of nine.

They are:

Right Reverend Edward Le Parcons, Bishop of Episcopal diocese of California.

Charles M. Wollenberg, Esq. Superintendant of Laguna Honda Home

Leland W. Cutler, President of S.F. Chamber of Commerce

Honorable James J. Johnston, President Commonwealth Club of California.

Selah Chamberlain Esq. President S.F. Community Chest. 152

Mr. Rae Baker, President So Fe Labor Council.

Mr. Jesse Steinhart, President Federation of Jewish Charities.

J. Emmet Hayden, Esq., Chairman Finance Committee of Board of Supervisors.

Reverend P. G. Moriarty, Little Children’s Aid, Acting for Archbishop Hanna.

All these gentlemen have accepted Dad’s request with very appreciative and flatter- ing notes, but I will not make this narrative too long by copying them. I will now add the note he wrote them.

“I would like very much if you could attend a meeting to be hold Wednesday, Feb- ruary 41 1931, at the rooms of the Commonwealth Clubs 345 Sutter Street, at 3:00 P.M. The purpose of this meeting is to turn over to your Committee of Nine, the control of “The Kitchen”, situated on the corner of Clara and Ritch Streets, since you were kind enough to give your consent to act on this committee. The meeting should not last longer then half an hour, and at it you will be informed as to how little of your time will be taken up in serving as a members as well as to how satisfactorily the place is functioning and the coast of the meals served. It is likely that the Commit- tee will not have to meet more than two or three times a year, as the Superintendent of the Relief Home will carry the burden of the work after receiving your instruc- tions at these few meetings, and he will furnish you during the year with any reports you may desire. Will you, kindly let me know if you will be able to be present.

Yours very truly,

B. P. Oliver” 153

REASONS FOR ESTABLISHMENT OF “THE KITCHEN”

FIRST: To stop begging and to give hungry, penniless men, who will not beg, something to eat. To save men from being driven to beg. If a man starts begging and finds out that he can make a living this way, he generally adopts it as a profes- sion and never works again. He becomes a parasite, an undesirable citizen in any community.

SECOND: That it is the duty of all communities to provide shelter and food for all who are penniless, hungry, unemployed or unable to work, even when it may be the fault of the penniless ones themselves that they are in this extremity. We all have our weaknesses, and even if those of our neighbor cause him to go hungry, we should not eat and lot him starve. If we provide so much amusement and recreation for the well fed and the employed citizens by the expenditure of millions of dollars in parks, bathing pools, recreation centers, aquariums, yacht harbors, seal ponds, bear pits, buffalo and deer paddocks, museums, organ recitals, band concerts, play- grounds, golf links, bridle paths, receptions to distinguished and undistinguished visitors, decorations for the City on gala occasions, etc., should we leave it to the charity of private individuals to maintain shelter and eating places for our penniless unemployed and those whose age handicaps their employment.

THIRD: By examples to get the City to recognize its duties to the poor; unem- ployed and infirm, and show how they can be assisted.

FOURTH: To arrest, if possible, or at least dampen the communistic and Bolshe- vik spirit that is taking root in our community among the hungry and unemployed, by showing them that their follow men have sympathy for them, desire to help them, and will at all times help them when it is at all necessary to do so.

______

The above reasons are the same reasons why St, Patrick’s Shelter on Minna Street was built, to house, bathe and bed penniless homeless men. This Shelter is support- ed by the Community Chest, and in a measure by the City. It should be supported 154 entirely by the City as the Community Chest is too heavily burdened at present to do so, unless it abandons its social work and devotes itself entirely to corporal works of mercy.

It is absolutely certain that a great majority of the citizens, if not all of them, if their vote could be polled, would be in favor of supporting these two institutions so ad- mirably adapted to their purposes, out of the public funds. The City of San Francisco, dedicated at its birth to St. Francis of Assisi, the greatest exponent of charity of the centuries, the lover of the afflicted and the suffering, of animals and birds, of the trees and flowers, the brother of the ass and the servant of the poor, cannot begrudge out of its expenditures of twenty-seven millions per year, less than one hundred thousand dollars to bring relief to the mendicant when the tools have been provided for this very purpose. Last winter at the Shelter on Minna Street, 49,768 penniless were given beds, 53,487 baths, and 1914 provided with clothes through the assistance of the Community Chest. This winter the number will be greater. Last winter thousands of breakfasts were likewise provided by charitable citizens and thousands of meals by the Sisters of Charity of Mary’s Help Hospital, without charge, out of their meager resources.

READ AT THE TRANSFER OF “THE KITCHEN” TO THE COMMITTEE OF NINE FEBRUARY 4, 1931.

As you will learn from Mr. Wollenberg’s report, “The Kitchen” is now function- ing satisfactorily and an average of 3500 nutritious, palatable meals are being fur- nished every day, Sunday included, to supposedly penniless and unemployed, but undoubtedly, hungry men. Likewise, in the Clinic some fifty men are being treated daily. As my share in the work has been completed, it is time for me to fade from the picture and allow Mr. Wollenberg to carry on for you Gentlemen, who are virtually the proprietors. 155

On you will rest the decision whether “The Kitchen” is to be operated the year round, seasonally or only in emergencies like the present. My experience has been that there are always hungry, unemployed men, many past middle age, in San Fran- cisco, but that for five months in the year during the winter season, they are more numerous than during the other seven months. I might say here that St. Patrick’s Shelter shows, after five years’ experience, that the sick, the aged, the crippled, the physically handicapped, the convalescent none of whom would be able to work no matter how plentiful jobs might be – numbered not less than thirty-five percent of its patrons. These men get their food and a portion of their shelter almost entirely by begging, although some resort to petty thievery, and in a few cases to hold-up, frequently resulting in serious injury or death to the victim. If the “Kitchen” were kept open the year round and likewise a “Shelter” with sleep- ing accommodations, there should be no begging in San Francisco, and any citizen who was solicited for assistance could always reply, “The City provides food and beds free if you need them. Speak to any policeman and he will direct you where they are to be found”. This is a matter to which you should give some consideration. If you feel that the citizens would be proud to live in a City of which it could be said that no penniless man need go without food or shelter, and not have to beg for it, then “The Kitchen” and a “Shelter” must be kept open the year round, especially for those incapacitated. Fortunately, the cooking apparatus in “The Kitchen” is so arranged that food can be prepared for 100 men or for 2000 at a not much greater pro rata of cost per man for the minimum number. If you feel that it develops the charitable instincts of the citizens to be approached for alms and he is a moral gainer thereby for Charity is the greatest of the virtues, and that also you will not develop a class, that, while able to work, will never do so as long as there are free beds and meals to be obtained, then feeding and sleeping quarters should never be opened except in times of emergency. Unfortunately, in the matter of almsgiving, while the citizens who gives, benefits, the recipient often deteriorates. If the latter finds he can make a living this way, he tries no others becomes a social parasites and worse still, with money in his pockets he supports the “speak-easy”, causing his own physical collapse, expense to the City to care for him, and worst of all, fosters the growth of that vicious, criminal class that lives by boot-legging.

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If begging could be stopped when “Kitchen” and “Shelter” are closed, a study could then be made as to the advisability or inadvisability of keeping them open. Undoubtedly, many undeserving, whom I might term “loafers”, would take advan- tage of the situations when they are open, but would not the good done to the real needy and unfortunates greatly outweigh the encouragement given to the loafing class? It is a problem worth serious consideration. Personally, I believe that one hundred thousand dollars expended yearly by the City for food and shelter for the penniless and penniless incapacitated, provided begging was prohibited and stopped, would save three times this amount in the elimination of crime, the care and hospitalization of the frequenters of the “speakeasy” and to almsgivers. Concerning the moral good done I shall make no comment. In our ma- terial age morality is too far in the background to be given consideration. Before I close I would like to express before you Gentlemen my thanks to Mr. Wollenberg and Mr. Rossi. Without them there would have been no “Kitchen”. It was a seed planted with a hopes but it would never have grown, matured and borne fruit, without the fostering care of these two gentlemen. I feel, Gentlemen, that as long as Mr. Wollenberg remains in his present positions whatever plans you make will be carried out by him with sympathy, intelligence and care, and to your utmost satisfaction. A word about the status of the property. It will not be deeded to the City. So many political changes take place in a municipality, where bad administrations alternate with good, that I have decided to leave it under your management as officials of the various organizations that you represents as long as you feel that it can be used by the City for the purpose for which it was constructed. When you feel otherwise, that it should be closed, you will notify the Trustee, who holds the title, The Wells Fargo Union Trust Company, and it will forthwith deed the property to a purely charitable Society to be used for charitable purposes.

157

To this Society, the St. Vincent de Paul, I am sending the following letter:

To the President of St. Vincent de Paul Society of the City and County of San Francisco*

Dear Sir:

The writer is deeding the property on the northwest corner of Ritch and Clara Streets, in the City and County of San Francisco, 75’ X 75’ in size, with the im- provements thereon, to the Union Trust Company with the provision contained in the Trust Deed that the same shall be used as a place to feed and give clinical treatment to the penniless hungry and unemployed in the City and County of San Francisco by the Municipal authorities of said City and County, whenever in the judgment of a Committees named below, it becomes necessary to do so. The City authorities are to have the use of the property only on condition that they maintain the property, pay for its upkeep, and all taxes, assessments and other ex- penses connected with or that may be necessary in operating it for the purposes for which it was erected, namely, as a feeding place and as a place for a free clinic to be maintained. If the City at any time should decide that it has no further use for the property for the purposes stated above, or for some other charitable purposes that the Committee may decide upon, then the Union Trust Company shall deed the property to the St. Vincent de Paul Society, which shall enter into possession of the same and devote it to such uses as it decides will assist it in carrying on the works of charity, for which it was organized. I have secured a Committee of nine persons, namely, the Catholic Archbishop of San Francisco, the Bishop of the Episcopal Diocese of California, the President of the Federation of Jewish Charities, the President of the San Francisco Chamber of Commerce, the Chairman 158 of the Finance Committee of the Board of Supervisors of San Francisco, the Presi- dent or Head of the labor Council of San Francisco, the President of the Com- monwealth Club of San Francisco, the President of the San Francisco Community Chest and the Superintendent of the Relief Home of the City and County of San Francisco, in their official capacities, to treat with the City in all arrangements made with the City for the use by the City of the property for the purposes above stated. The officials impress me as being proper representatives of the general public to act in such a matter, and deal with the City efficaciously where public charity that is absolutely necessary is to be dispensed. These officials will have entire charge of the property or institution known as “The Kitchen”, acting through the Superinten- dent of the Relief Home, as long as the City maintains and cares for it. Whenever it reverts to you, their care and connection cease, and you use it for your own chari- table purposes. I believe the purposes to which the property is now dedicated will always have pub- lic support, and that a municipality of the size of San Francisco should and always will supply such an institutions where it is fully completed in every detail as it is at presents with whatever is necessary to have it function properly, The improve- ments, being of fire proof construction, should have a long life. I repeat again, my reason for desiring to have the property deeded to you, if it should cease to be used by the City for the purposes above stated, is, that it may be continued to be used in the charitable activities, to which your Society, more than any other, in the City, is devoted. I would moreover advise you strongly, if it is in your power, to always help the Committee in keeping the City interested in the present feeding system for the good done, and because the cost of maintaining it would be prohibitory to private individuals or to your Society.

Yours sincerely,

I thank you, Gentlemen, for your taking the time to attend this meeting and most sincerely do I thank you for your consenting to serve on this Committee.

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It is a frail craft that you are asked to navigate, but if you cannot keep it afloat, there are no other Captains who can. I wish there was a Sister Ship called “The Shelter” that could be entrusted to your seamanship, as I feel that you Gentlemen would consider the joint support of such twins an eminently just charge on the tax-payers, and in the same category with hospitals, relief homes and sanitariums. While, as I said, I am now out of the picture, if you should ever need my services they are yours to command.

THE KITCHEN

COST OF “THE KITCHEN”

Lands Title Insurance Policy and Pro Rata of Taxes $ 6,042.79 Barrett & Hilp – Cost of Building ______16,480.25 22,523.04 Architect 498.00 23,021.04 The City spent for equipment 3,956.35 ______3,956.35 TOTAL COST 26,977.39

From January 7 to January 31, 1931, inclusive, 87,904 meals were furnished. The cost of furnishing food for these meals was .047 per meal. This figure includes gas and water used. All cooking is done by gas. The labor cost (eighteen men em- ployed as cooks, helpers, dishwashers, etc,) per meal was .034 or a cost for each meal furnished of .078. The total cost in dollars and cents for the 87,904 meals was $6, 924.21. The food was all of the best, varied and exceedingly well cooked. The bread cost four cents per pound. 160

August 12, 1931. Mr. B. P. Oliver 100 Montgomery Street, San Francisco.

My Dear Mr. Oliver: You probably have seen by the paper that there will be a meeting of the Mayors, Councilmen, and Supervisors of Northern California on the 28th, where we will discuss cooperation in relief this winter. One of the things I hope to do is to get San Francisco together with Fresno, Stockton, Oakland, Sacramento and San Jose to agree upon a date for opening com- munity kitchens, thus preventing one community from sending its itinerant labor to another where a kitchen might be open. I agree with you fully regarding the expenditure of money for labor. Sixty percent or more is wasted. The $2,000,000, if it comes from the tax levy, will only be spent for relief. Since hearing from you a few weeks ago, I have had several other discus- sions regarding the possibility of aiding the five Catholic organizations that are giving meals out at this time. I have taken it up with City Officials and we all agree that it is a dangerous procedure. It will stimulate every church to open its own relief kitchens The Salvation Army and Volunteers of America already have asked and are clamoring for municipal money. I think we must keep our money absolutely under City control and must not recognize any sectarian organizations/

Hoping to see you soon, I am Yours very truly

C. M. Wollenberg Superintendent 161

August 13, 1931.

Mr., C. M. Wollenborg, Superintendent, Laguna Honda Home, San Francisco.

Dear Mr. Wollenberg:

I am just in receipt of your favor of yesterday, and after reading it carefully I have changed my mind completely in regard to my suggestion to you of giving monetary assistance to provide food given away by charitable or semi-charitable institutions. I can see now the innumerable difficulties that would ensue if it were done, and the unlimited demands that would be made on the Municipal Treasury with unending squabbling between the applicants. Matters should be left as they are with the “Kitchen”, providing meals for the single unemployed men, and the Associated Charities looking after the families in distress. The Catholic organizations I mentioned in my letters I have been informed, will carry on their charitable work in any event, as long as demand is made upon them, as under their Foundations, they are bound to supply food to the hungry if the mem- bers of the community have the wherewith to eat themselves. My particular interest was in seeing that hungry, unemployed men obtained food during the interim the “Kitchen” was closed. Likely, the charitable religious orders were able to take care of them in this interval, but the situation has now gotten bad again and I am afraid that the City will have to open the “Kitchen” next month to take care of the single hungry. It would be a great work accomplished if you could get the other large towns in the Northern and Central part of the State to open up Community Kitchens. Even then there would be a big drift of the unemployed to San Francisco during the coming winter, but our municipality would be justly relieved of much expense that it should not assume. Yours sincerely,

B. P. Oliver 162

San Francisco Daily News January 15, 1931.

HUNGRY MEN SHOULD BE FED, SAYS MR. CYPHER, ANONYMOUS HEAD OF ST. PATRICK’S SHELTER

San Franciscan Does Great Work for Penniless, but wants No Credit “The Kitchen,” Where Food Is Free, Latest Benefaction of Philanthropist. By Betty Briggs

When a man’s hungry, he should be fed.

When a man’s homeless, he should be sheltered.

Because a certain kindly, white haired man believes those things he has built a soup kitchen and a lodging house for the destitute men of San Francisco.

For the last 20 odd years this wealthy business man has devoted a great share of his time to studying and helping to solve the social problems of his native City.

Two Great Needs

The two great needs, he decided, were a sanitary, comfortable building where homeless men could sleep and a cafeteria where penniless men could be fed.

So he built St. Patrick’s Shelter and “The Kitchen.”

“Mr. Cypher,” he prefers to be called, if he must be given a name. His own name is well known among club and business men – but many of his closest friends do not know that he is the philanthropist who has done so much good work for the unfor- tunate, destitute persons of the town. 163

Works Anonymously

He shuns publicity preferring to do his work through city officials, who are sworn to secrecy. Never in all the years he has been aiding the destitute has his name been publicly divulged, and so here too, he must remain only “Mr. Cypher.”

Two meals a day are served to hungry men who line up before his latest venture, “The Kitchen.”

“For a human being who is hungry should be fed,” says Mr. Cypher.

No Questions Asked

“Who am I to ask a man why he is hungry, whether or not he deserves food? There should be no distinction made, and none is made so long as a man does not got into line too many times for any one meal. Even then, who can blame them? Some need more food than others. “In giving food and shelter we must help all who ask and only say when we give, “there, but for the grace of God, go I.” Many years ago when there was another period of depression and unemployment, Mr. Cypher was asked to become a member of a committee, which was maintaining a soup kitchen and lodging house in the old Marino Hospital on Beale Street. There he became interested in the problem of the homeless man.

Commenced Task

When that was closed he became a member of a committee appointed by Governor Hiram Johnson to select a site for a penal institution for first offense felons. A few years later his financial condition was such that he could start the work he had long planned, that of building a lodging house for the homeless men in San Francisco. A location in the heart of the district, which needed such a shelter was found, a lot owned by St. Patrick’s parish of the Catholic Church. At a cost of $70,000 Mr. Cy- pher built St. Patrick’s Shelter. 164

When that was done, he studied soup kitchens, and several months ago, when he felt he could afford to give more money to aid the needy, he began building “The Kitchen.” It was at first to be erected on property owned by the City. But no city property was deemed suitable, so Mr. Cypher purchased a lot for his second build- ing. City Bought Equipment The equipment was bought by the city and the food is being served at the expense of the city. This kitchen is not to be a temporary thing. It is to live so long as the city will main- tain it. And that, Mr. Cypher believes should be permanently. “Every city should provide shelter and food. That is only human. San Francisco will always do this, I hope, and I am forming a committee which I believe will carry on this work for years,” he says.

Wants No Credit “I am to be given no credit. I am only fortunate to have the money to spend in this way. A cornerstone of St. Patrick’s Shelter will explain why I do this work better than anything else. On that cornerstone are the letters A.M.D.G.” Translated from the Latin, for which these letters stands these are the words: “To the Greater Glory of God.”

January 15, 1930 Dear Mr. Oliver: I am sending you a copy of the story I wrote after talking with you. It was longer in the earlier editions but due to lack of space was cut in the afternoon editions. I cannot, at the moment, find one of the longer versions. Thank you so much for being so kind as to tell me the story. I hope that if I call at your office some day again you will tell me of your future plans and about the com- mittee you are organizing.

Sincerely, “(CYNTHIA GREY)” 165

January 16, 1931

Miss Betty Briggs, San Francisco News 812 Mission Street, San Francisco.

Dear Miss Briggs: I am just in receipt of your communication containing article published in the San Francisco News on January 15, concerning “St. Patrick’s Shelter” and “The Kitch- en”. I thank you greatly for your consideration. You have kept your word to the letter and I deeply appreciate your doing so. If all other news gatherers and writers would follow your example in reporting interviews with people shunning publicity, many more interviews might be secured when interesting information for the general public could be obtained.

You certainly have earned my good will. Yours sincerely,

B. P. Oliver

This chapter of your knowledge of your praiseworthy Mr. Cipher or Mr. Zero or Dad, will be terminated with a little humor. 166

I will copy a letter he received in January 1931. I will not correct the misspelling. The following was the address on the envelope: Mr. Cyphar, San Francisco, Counterpart of Manhattan’s famour Mr. Zero, San Francisco, In care of PostMaster St. Patrick’s Shelter, 239 Minna St.;

Dear Sir:

Well as I seen in the News Bee that you was an old man of 70 and spending your money on the folks that are hungry. Well I must surely give you credit for it as their is only one more person in the world like you and that is a lady, you had sure get aquanted with her, she is a widow and never that a hungry person comes to her house but what she feeds them. Now she has taken over 3 lovely little children were the Mother is dead and she only about 55 or 50 and very beautiful ways about 75 pounds. She sure would make a mate for a man with a hart like you right her I am an old soulger but married here is your luck at good old pal friend. Her address is Mis Rose Carpenter R.F.D. No. 1 Box 2 Gray Towns Ohio c/o Postmaster: Pleas give this letter to the man that foods all the hungry in San Francisco. This is from an old solger pall of his this is his chance and tell him not to mis it. Pall John” Many other letters have been received but most of them are begging letters and from investigation were not truthful. 167

I have known your Father since I was 11 years old and he was 20. Our Mothers were close friends in Valpariso, Chile, in their girlhood.

Just before our marriage he named my schoolmates and me nicknames, his name for me was “Laughing Eyes,” He names himself our “Shepherd”, and he has lived up to that name during our marriage of 48 years, ( I hope we will celebrate our golden wedding.) I have lived a normal happy protected life. Our marriage was a sacrament not a contract. He is a true gentleman and I know he merits Heaven.

F I N I S