NAME: COZZETTE ERTMOED
SOURCE: Dictated by Dorse Derrington Krohn Dupzyk to Cozzette Ertmoed,
a niece. Donated to the Coarsegold Historical Society.
__________

COARSEGOLD
When the Central Pacific Railroad was built down through the San Joaquin Valley in 1872, there was nothing for the traveler to see but sand and wheat. Irrigation, the vast project to come, was unthought of. The many thousands of acres of vineyards and fruit, now such a bountiful picture spreading from the Sierra Nevadas to the Coast Range, would have seemed as fantastic as any of Grimm's Fairy Tales. The tiny depots and rough squalid towns at intervals along the way were merely distributing stations, mainly for the hill country.

California history was made in the foothills of the Sierra Nevadas. Here, newcomers flocked for many reasons and land held more value than elsewhere in the state.
Many colorful, exciting stories are told of the men who came in search of gold. These were adventurous gamblers who lived from day to day seeking searching their fortunes in gulches and creek bottoms. However, little is said about the farmer who came to make his home, to raise a family, and to establish himself in this new land. The hill section was ideal for this, with feed and water for stock, its mild winters, fertile soil, and a market for everything produced. With gold fever turning men's heads, it is sure there were few who came to farm. Only those who were level-headed and far-seeing could visualize the future with roads, more people coming each year and land growing more valuable with the influx of the masses.

Such a man was John Krohn. A German seaman, he had sailed the many seas before jumping ship in San Francisco and going into the grocery business. Profitable it was and with a young wife and three or four small children, a less adventurous man might have taken root.
 
Before we were blended in the human melting pot, those who spoke the same language were inclined, socially, to "click" in common understanding. Thus it was that John Krohn and a number of his German friends of long standing would meet at intervals to play pinochle, drink beer, and talk in their native tongue of the great opportunities in America. That these men were to become prominent is a foregone conclusion.

It was at one of these social meetings that the activities of Crane Valley were discussed. At that time there was a small saw mill, a grist mill and a distillery located there, which is now the upper end of Bass Lake in Madera County.

It sounded like a growing community and, after much thought, Krohn decided to take a trip up there with the idea of going into business if the location would warrant it. It was a long journey from San Francisco with a team and he was glad when he reached Coarse Gold Gulch, knowing that with one more day's travel he would reach his destination.
Charlie Michael, a German well past middle age, was owner of the trading post at Coarse Gold Gulch. He made his guest welcome and as they sat and talked after supper, and a strong mutual liking for each other developed, causing each to speak freely of his plans. When Krohn told of his mission to Crane Valley, the older man suggested that instead they form a partnership in the post and in his stock business which he had started in 1852. He was getting on in years and needed a younger man to share the burden of a growing business.

The idea appealed to the visitor who nevertheless felt that he must see Crane Valley before making a decision. The next day he went on his way. However, Crane Valley failed to meet with his expectations, so he returned to Coarse Gold Gulch to discuss further plans for a partnership. Thus, it was in the year 1872 that the business became Michael and Krohn.

It was a beautiful country Michael had chosen. The friendly, protective hills blended one into another below the majestic snow-clad higher range. Here there were four distinct seasons of the year with none severe enough to cause any discomfort or suffering. White oaks, along with the evergreen live oaks and bull pines, were heavy on the north hillsides. Manzanita, chaparral, wild honeysuckle, coffee bushes, and innumerable species of brush grew unheeded with an occasional fire to thin them out only to make room for more abundant growth.

Spring rains caused little streams to run down the mountainsides everywhere, arousing the action of swarms of miners who worked early and late with pans and sluice boxes. This form of mining is impossible without water, so miners made every minute count before the dry season started.

Easterners, southerners, Chinese, "Sydney-ducks"--all kinds--packed in with their scant belongings and there were great doings everywhere. An unpacked burro was turned loose to go where he would. No one owned a burro in those days; they were used by anyone and turned loose again when unwanted.

The trading post was much like many others found in the early West: one long storeroom with a huge rough fireplace in one end, and a bar. In the back was a lean-to kitchen and a living room finished the structure. Another early-day post in the vicinity, located just above the present store, was one operated by William Strombeck and Tom Allen, who, after a few years, moved their store to Fresno Flats. Supplies of every kind essential to this life were sold from barrels, bins, and sacks with no fancy wrapping. Before the railroad was built through the Valley, these supplies were shipped by boat from San Francisco to Stockton, then hauled by wagon train to Coarsegold, a distance of 150 miles. When roads were washed out and all but obliterated by heavy rains, the loads were transferred to pack mules and carried through. Flour that had been soaked and dried had just as good a sale as any other, for there was no other.

A huge barn accommodated the weary horses of those who came from near and far. There was no road to Yosemite, no tourists, and consequently, few requests for accommodations other than meals. Those traveling were going to and from claims or were looking for new ones and they carried all they needed with them. In some cases, this consisted of a bed-roll, shovel, and frying pan.

The hardships and tragedies of these exciting times have dimmed, but the romance will never die. Each thread of life in the old West weaves for us a story and such a community [as Coarsegold] is rich with stories unknown or untold.

Coarsegold was one of the largest mining centers, being directly on the old immigrant trail that followed the Mother Lode through the foothills of what are now Fresno, Mariposa, Madera, Tuolumne, and Amador counties.

Amusing is the story of nine young Texans who came to seek their fortune in the spring of 1851. Their leader was a dashing fellow by the name of Duane, believed by some to have been a relative of Zane Grey's famous character, "Buck Duane." Of mining, they knew nothing and readily admitted their lack of knowledge, but were fired with the gold fever and willing to work.

The gravel bar was crowded with hard-working miners who had no liking for anyone crowding in on them. When Duane asked about a claim he was told by one old-timer, "One place is jist as good as another. You young fellers go right down in them riffles and help yourselves to all you can find."

The riffles was a slate formation crossing the river bed at right angles, extending a thousand feet or so below the bar. This was the last place an experienced miner would look for gold, for there was really no gravel on or near the riffles; but with the innocence of babes, the young men went to work with high enthusiasm.

Imagine their joy when they found pockets in the slate literally filled with nuggets to the great amazement of others. They simply "dipped" and "spooned" out over $90,000 in gold. The surrounding claims were at once staked out but no more was found, proving that the gold had been washed down and had lodged in the crevices. That section of the creek was thereafter called "Texas Flat," a name that was later attached to a large quartz mine which ran for many years.

Michael and Krohn homesteaded and bought considerable land and gradually extended their stock business. Later they were to have the finest horses in the country (using the JM brand) as well as thousands of sheep and hogs. The sheep were herded during the summer months in the mountains near Yosemite Valley by the sons of John Krohn. There were seven of them now and getting old enough to take some share in the daily tasks and responsibilities.

The hill section was growing fast. A road was extended into Yosemite from Mariposa. This road was later joined by a road directly from Madera through Coarsegold, the two roads meeting near Wawona. This called for a complete new set-up, as the trading post was three quarters of a mile from the new road. It was not adequate to take care of the increasing demand of the tourists who came from all over the world to see and enjoy the unsurpassed beauty of Yosemite.

"What we need is a hotel, now," old Michael decided. "John, what do you say to that? People are coming every day, more and more. We should have some place to take care of them."

It was true. A hotel was needed and plans were made; the work began. This was in the year 1878.

For the day and location, the hotel was a very pretentious building, having a large lobby, two dining rooms, ample sleeping quarters, and a wide veranda around three sides. The fireplace was built of beautiful gold quartz showing large chunks of pure gold, which was of great interest to those who were to come to the country. In fact, so interesting that before many years, most of the gold has been picked out with pocket knives and carried away by the tourists.

Nothing was spared to provide "comfort and restfulness" for the traveler. Great soft feather beds that rounded and puffed like eclairs were made of feathers from geese raised on the ranch. At the side of each bed was an Angora goat skin rug. The goats were also raised on the ranch, the skins tanned and dyed various colors to match the curtains and tiles on the wash stands.

Michael, getting along in years, was childishly delighted over the venture. Each nail driven in place, each shingle, every drop of paint, meant to him fulfillment of one more of his dreams for the future of the country he loved so well.

At last completed, the hotel was called the "St. Charles Hotel," and a grand ball was arranged to celebrate the opening. It was to be a fine affair and invitations were sent out near and far. Every food available was prepared by the Chinese cooks under the supervision and watchful guidance of Mrs. Krohn, who was a culinary expert (a fact she took no credit for, but which in time contributed much to the success of the hotel). Music was furnished by the two violinists always in demand in their day, Major Daulton and Bunyon March. Assisting them at the organ was Phillip Elberg of whom a great deal might be said. Elberg's talent at the piano was unusually fine, but he was hampered at the organ, not having been trained to use his hands and feet, too; so small boys were appointed to take turns with the pumping, [a task] which gave them a great sense of importance.
 
Great quantities of imported beer were on hand in the large, cool cellars to quench the thirst of those who had driven many miles to partake in the celebration. Days in advance, the guests began to arrive. [Their] enthusiasm was not dimmed by the long, weary journeys of perhaps two or three days over slow, winding roads in carriages and on horseback. The men took great pride in their traveling equipment, bringing only the finest of horses, decked out in beautifully tooled harness, and hitched to the latest of carriages. The pride of the fine array was not left entirely to the men, as the ladies' finery was lavish and gay. All the children (large families were the rule and not the exception in those days) were "ruffled" and "laced" to swell every mother's heart and no doubt each little Johnny and Mary was very uncomfortable.
 
However, Fate takes a hand when least expected and two or three days before the ball, Michael became ill with a severe cold which quickly grew more serious in spite of medicine and care administered to him. Swiftly, it developed into pneumonia and he died the night of the "Grand Opening." His last conscious words were, "The dance must go on." His death was not announced until the following day.

This left John and Louise Krohn with double care and worry at a time when there was much to do.

A new era of mining had started. The creeks and streams had been worked of all the free gold, and quartz mining began in a big way. This meant more labor and a great deal of equipment, which increased the buzz and activity for several miles around.

Quartz mining is expensive; a mine to be worked properly will sometimes swallow $200,000 before the gold can be reached and the owners can realize a dividend on their money. Outside wealth poured into the hills and such men as Senator George Hearst, John B. Haggin (the race horse king of Kentucky), and Milton Sunderland of New York opened up mines near Coarsegold.

One of the rarest mining adventures was that at Quartz Mountain, about five miles distant.

A man named Beaudache (a Frenchman) represented a French corporation floating stock to promote the mine. It was believed this stock was sold to the poorer working class in France. Whether or not this was true, no one knows; but it is known that for a time, money simply rolled in to develop the mine. No expense was spared. A town was built on the location called Narbeau [EDITOR'S NOTE: also known as "Narbo"]. Unlike other hastily-built mining towns, this was not squalid. It was made of fine houses. Arranged in a crescent following the contour of the hill, the town was an impressive sight when approached from the one and only entrance. The president's house was a show place: two stories high with a dumb-waiter connecting the basement where all the food was prepared. The finish of the interior would rival that of any city home with its beautiful fireplaces, imported woodworking and crystal chandeliers. There, the president lived like royalty, with a retinue of servants to care for his every need.

A sixty-stamp mill was erected, one of the largest in the state, capable of reducing three hundred tons of ore a day. To bring water to the mill from Willow Creek, a canal was dug from the foot of Crane Valley near the present Bass Lake dam, a distance of about fifteen miles. For over three years a crew of five-hundred Chinese worked on the canal with pick and shovel and wheelbarrows.
 
When things were getting in shape to actually start mining, Miller and Lux claimed the water right to Willow Creek and served an injunction on the Quartz Mountain Mining Company. As there was no way to fight this riparian right, the whole scheme blew up and the venture was over.
 
For a time, a caretaker was left in charge of the buildings. Years afterward, the town was entirely destroyed by fire. This mine has passed into other hands and is still considered good property, but for one reason or another it has never been worked. The great fortune that was spent on it is still a lost cause.

In the early 1870's, a sawmill was built at Soquel, which is about twenty miles above Coarsegold in the sugar pine country. This directly and indirectly affected the entire hill country, for more mills were to come and lumbering became the greatest industry in Madera County. A flume was built to the railroad (about sixty-five miles) with stations erected approximately every ten miles for the flume tenders. This was the longest wooden flume ever built and the walk alongside is recorded as the longest boardwalk in the world. It is true that one industry creates another and teaming grew to great importance. Hauling food and supplies to the sawmills was a profitable occupation which in turn increased business at the stations enroute. Every night the huge barns at Coarsegold were filled with these tired, dusty horses, and their drivers were fed and lodged at the hotel.
When schooling became necessary, the Krohn children (seven boys and four girls) were more fortunate than many pioneer families who simply went without education because it was not available. A private school was started by Steve Cunningham, a West Point graduate who was a capable teacher. Intended for a very different life, he came west thirsting for adventure. He loved his friends. . . and never returned to the East. He spent the summers in the high mountains, living the life of a hermit until the snows drove him out. He would then return to his cabin [located] about two miles from Coarsegold. For two winters, he held classes for a small monthly sum per child.

When Cunningham gave up teaching, the work was carried on by Sam Giles who came to California "for his health." A very kind man, he not only taught the three "R's" but took a great interest in the lives of his pupils, listened to their many little troubles, and was always ready to care for a bee sting or a stone bruise with such gentleness the ordeal was much easier to face. A fine man, he did much to influence the lives of the children who never forgot him.

Several other families moved into the country, so that a public school, the second school in Coarsegold, became necessary. It is said that at one time, five families had a total of fifty-six children! When one stops to think of the trials of raising a family, once again we take our hats off to the old-timers.
 
Many notables stopped at the St. Charles [Hotel}: Lily Langtry, the opera star, was well-remembered by "Doc" Krohn. When a small boy, she gave him a bottle of pickles. "Doc" seemed to have a way of gaining favors; when General Grant stopped on his way to Yosemite in 1880, he gave the boy $2.50 for a bunch of grapes.

One of the local characters never to be entirely forgotten was Antonio Lavaline, known locally as "Santy Claus," an aged Chilean who appeared in this region about 1878. He was a small, wizened, old fellow with a huge crop of snow-white hair as fine as goat hair, which hung to his shoulders. He had a beard reaching below his waist. He would wash his hair in the spring when the creek was high and the beautiful, silky waves [of hair] were the envy of everyone. Usually dressed in a long, ill-fitting tunic or coat with a rope tied around his waist, he made one think of a hermit or perhaps a religious recluse, which he decidedly was not. It is known that at one time he was cook and camp master for Vasquez, the bandit. He made his home in Coarsegold off and on for many years, disappearing suddenly and bobbing up again when least expected.

[It was told that] after a successful trip to the gold fields of Bolivia, Antonio returned to San Francisco with pockets full of money, literally throwing it around like chicken feed on the streets. Later, of Bolivia he would say, "Gold? Lots of gold, but fever--too much fever."

Old when he came, the years slipped by, changing Antonio little until death caught up with him. All of his glorious days behind him, he died penniless in the county hospital (probably in Madera, but not certain), it is said at the age of 125 years.

In spite of various books and articles written about Joaquin Murietta, there is still a controversy concerning his capture and death. It is said that the man who actually killed Murietta was Bill Henderson, a member of Captain Love's party. Henderson later made his home in Coarsegold and was the mining recorder of the district. A mild sort of man, more or less studious, he was not given to talk or exaggeration. Consequently, when he told of his part in winding up Murietta's murderous career, it was accepted as truth and never doubted by those who knew him well. Unfortunately, there is no proof to show a doubting public; hence various stories still exist. Henderson died on Christmas day in the 1870's. As usual, the community was invited to a Christmas tree party at the hotel. In the morning, Henderson bought a new pair of boots and went to his cabin nearby, to don them for the party. Quite some time later, when he failed to arrive, some of the boys walked over to get him and found him dead. With one boot on, and his finger in the strap of the other, he had toppled off his bunk.

Interesting to newcomers is the life of the Indians. Until gold was discovered, the Indians were little disturbed in their carefree existence. They lived from day to day without thought of tomorrow or yesterday, happy because there was always plenty. The foothills provided all their food with the exception of salt. For this, a party was sent once a year to the coast where by process of evaporation, enough sea salt was obtained to supply the entire tribe for the coming year. The Chuckchancee [Chukchansi] tribe at Coarsegold was very amiable and [its members] easily made friends with the whites. Their only enemies were the Monos from the other side of the range . . .

There are very few full-blooded Indians left. Many of the old customs are lost with the present generation. No more do they gather acorns for the tedious process of making mush. Neither do they gather wild potatoes, onions, and greens like the old times, for it is too easy to get food otherwise. The basket makers are disappearing as the old women die, for the young girls take no interest in such things; the time is coming when there will be no more beautiful baskets.

Now all of those who made Coarsegold history are gone. Gone, too, are the rough, winding roads, replaced by a fine new highway. The St. Charles Hotel burned to the ground in late 1926 or early 1927 and was replaced by a fine modern building, which burned in 1957. This has also been rebuilt. With the fire on April 27, 1964, which burned the old store, there is nothing left of the Coarsegold we knew a few years ago. It is still a charming place; visitors find a warm welcome and seem to feel some of the charm of yesterday.

Visit the Coarsegold Historic Museum