History of California

Chapter XVI

The Hid­den Trea­sures of Moth­er Earth

Thou­sands of years ago, be­fore the time of which we have any his­to­ry, there were rivers in Cal­ifor­nia,–rivers now dead,–whose sides were steep­er and whose chan­nels were wider than those of the rivers in the same part of the world to-​day. Rapid streams they were, and busy, too; wash­ing away from the rocks along their sides the gold held there, drop­ping the yel­low grains down in­to the grav­el­ly beds be­low. Af­ter a time there came down up­on these rivers a vol­canic out­flow; great quan­ti­ties of ash­es, streams of la­va and ce­ment, bury­ing them hun­dreds of feet deep, un­til over them moun­tain ridges ex­tend­ed for miles and miles.

Oth­er changes in the earth’s sur­face took place, and in the course of time our streams of to-​day were formed. As they cut their way through the moun­tain ranges, some of them crossed the chan­nels of old dead rivers, and find­ing the gold hid­den there, car­ried some of it along, rolling it over and over, mixed with sand and grav­el, down in­to the low­er lands un­der the bright sun­light. Here it was found by Mar­shall and the gold hunters who fol­lowed him. These were the plac­er mines of which we read in Chap­ter VII.

Grad­ual­ly the best plac­er mines were tak­en up and the new­com­ers to the gold fields traced the pre­cious met­al up the streams in­to the grav­el of the hill­sides. Then was be­gun hy­draulic min­ing, where wa­ter did the work. In the canons great dams were con­struct­ed to catch the flow from the melt­ing snows of the moun­tains, and miles of flumes were built to car­ry the wa­ter to the min­ing grounds. Im­mense pipes were laid and al­to­geth­er mil­lions of dol­lars were in­vest­ed in hy­draulic min­ing. The wa­ter com­ing down un­der heavy pres­sure from the moun­tain reser­voirs passed through gi­ant hose which would car­ry a hun­dred min­er’s inch­es, and, strik­ing the moun­tain side with ter­rif­ic force, washed away the earth from the rocks. Down fell the sand and grav­el in­to sluices or box­es of run­ning wa­ter where cleats and oth­er ar­range­ments caught and held the gold, which was heavy, while the lighter mix­ture was car­ried out in­to the canyon.

The ma­te­ri­al thus dumped on the moun­tain side was called de­bris, and to any one liv­ing in the min­ing re­gion of the state that word means trou­ble –means fight­ing, law­suits, ru­in. For the de­bris did not stay up in the canyon, but was washed down in­to the rivers, over­flow­ing farm lands, spoil­ing crops and or­chards, and mak­ing the streams shal­low, their wa­ters mud­dy. So great was the de­struc­tion this pro­cess caused that, in 1893, the Congress of the Unit­ed States en­act­ed a law which pro­vid­ed for the cre­ation of a De­bris Com­mis­sion to reg­ulate the busi­ness of hy­draulic min­ing in Cal­ifor­nia. The re­sult of the in­ves­ti­ga­tions of this com­mis­sion was to put a stop to all hy­draulic min­ing in ter­ri­to­ry drained by the San Joaquin and Sacra­men­to rivers, or any oth­er ter­ri­to­ry where the use of this form of min­ing should in­jure the riv­er sys­tems or lands ad­ja­cent. Thus, al­most in a mo­ment, the im­por­tant in­dus­try was stopped.

It is es­ti­mat­ed that over one hun­dred mil­lion dol­lars were in­vest­ed in hy­draulic min­ing. Much of this was en­tire­ly lost, as the ex­pen­sive ma­chin­ery rust­ed and the wa­ter sys­tem fell in­to ru­ins. It was very hard for the min­ers, as well as for the com­merce of the state, but the act of the gov­ern­ment was based up­on the prin­ci­ple that one man’s busi­ness must not dam­age an­oth­er man’s prop­er­ty. Clever en­gi­neers in the pay of the gov­ern­ment are still try­ing to find some way by which the de­bris can be safe­ly dis­posed of in or­der that this valu­able sys­tem may re­sume op­er­ation.

De­prived of the use of wa­ter as their agent, gold hunters next tried min­ing by drifts; that is, by tun­nel­ing in­to the moun­tain’s side un­til the bed of a buried riv­er is reached. These tun­nels are of­ten five thou­sand to eight thou­sand feet long. The gold is brought out of the ground be­fore it is washed clean of the grav­el. Some­times it is mixed with ce­ment, when it has to be crushed in rollers be­fore it can be cleared of oth­er ma­te­ri­al. The coun­ties where drift min­ing is most in op­er­ation are Plac­er, Neva­da, and Sier­ra.

Quartz min­ing is the most ex­pen­sive man­ner of get­ting out gold, and a great deal of valu­able and com­pli­cat­ed ma­chin­ery has been in­vent­ed for this branch of the busi­ness. The quartz mines of Cal­ifor­nia are among the rich­est in the world, and some of the great­est for­tunes of mod­ern times have been made from them.

In a mine of this kind there is gen­er­al­ly a shaft, or open­ing, ex­tend­ing straight down in­to the earth, from which, at dif­fer­ent lev­els, pas­sage­ways branch out where the veins of gold are rich­est. The open­ings must be tim­bered to pre­vent cav­ing in, and there must be pumps to re­move the wa­ter as well as hoist­ing works to take out the ma­te­ri­al. Then on the sur­face, as near as pos­si­ble to the mouth of the mine, must be lo­cat­ed the quartz mill. When pos­si­ble, a tun­nel is used in this min­ing, which makes the han­dling of ore less ex­pen­sive, for then there need be no hoist­ing works or pumps, since the tun­nel drains it­self.

Gold in quartz rock is gen­er­al­ly in ledges or veins, one to three feet in width. Dig­ging it out is not very hard, save where there is not enough room to stand up­right and use the pick, or when, in a shaft deep in the ground, the heat makes it dif­fi­cult to work. A Cal­ifor­nia boy at the mines wrote re­cent­ly: “Min­ing is not so bad; that is, if I could get along with­out the oc­ca­sion­al whack I be­stow up­on my left hand. Last week I start­ed a lit­tle tun­nel and pound­ed my hand so that it swelled up con­sid­er­ably. Drilling is not hard, and load­ing is a snap, but it’s all in­ter­est­ing work and there is the ex­cite­ment of see­ing what you are go­ing to find next.”

When the ore reach­es the sur­face it is sent to the mill, where it is first pul­ver­ized, then mixed with a chem­ical which goes about catch­ing up the grains of gold–ar­rest­ing and hold­ing them fast. It is quite a long pro­cess be­fore the gold is com­plete­ly sep­arat­ed from all oth­er ma­te­ri­al and ready for ship­ment. Of­ten the quartz con­tains oth­er min­er­als of val­ue, the sep­ara­tion of which re­quires much work.

There is a very rich mine in Neva­da called the Com­stock, which some years ago had sunk its shafts so deep in­to the earth that it be­came al­most im­pos­si­ble for the min­ers to work on ac­count of the great heat, the bad air, and the quan­ti­ty of wa­ter which had con­stant­ly to be pumped out. How these trou­bles were reme­died is the sto­ry of one of Cal­ifor­nia’s great­est and best cit­izens. Adolph Sutro was a Prus­sian by birth, and his adopt­ed state may well be proud to claim him. He had built a lit­tle quartz mill in Neva­da, near the Com­stock mine. See­ing the suf­fer­ing of the work­men in all the mines on that moun­tain side, he thought of a plan for the con­struc­tion of a large tun­nel which was to be­gin at a low lev­el at the near­est point of the Car­son Riv­er and run deep in­to the moun­tain so that it could drain all the rich min­ing sec­tion, give good ven­ti­la­tion for the deep un­der­ground works, and af­ford a much cheap­er and more con­ve­nient way of tak­ing care of the ore. It was to be four miles long, with branch­es ex­tend­ing from it to dif­fer­ent mines. Its height was to be ten feet; width, twelve, with a drainage trench in the cen­ter to car­ry away the waste wa­ter to the Car­son Riv­er, and tracks on each side for the pas­sage of mules and cars.

At first the mine own­ers were pleased with the project, and Mr. Sutro suc­ceed­ed in form­ing a com­pa­ny to build the tun­nel. Then he went to Wash­ing­ton, where the gov­ern­ment be­came so in­ter­est­ed in his plans that on Ju­ly 25, 1866, there was passed an act of Congress grant­ing Sutro such priv­ileges in re­gard to pub­lic lands as would safe­guard his work. About the time that the news of this ac­tion reached the West, the men who owned the mines and had made an ar­range­ment for the use of the tun­nel, de­cid­ed that they did not want the work done; it is said, for the rea­son that they found Mr. Sutro too wise and far-​see­ing for them to be able to man­age him. At all events, with all their wealth and pow­er they tried to ru­in him. They said that his plans were worth­less, and any one was fool­ish to in­vest in the tun­nel com­pa­ny. Then Mr. Sutro, by means of lec­tures up­on the sub­ject, ap­pealed to the peo­ple. In Cal­ifor­nia, Neva­da, the East­ern states, and even Eu­rope, he told what his plans would do for the min­ers and the good of the coun­try. It was not long be­fore he gained all the help he need­ed, and the great work was be­gun.

As the work­men pro­gressed in­to the moun­tain side there were many dif­fi­cul­ties to over­come. Day and night with­out ceas­ing the work went on. La­bor­ers would faint from the com­bined heat and bad air, and be car­ried to the out­er world to be re­vived. Car­pen­ters fol­lowed the drillers, track­men com­ing close­ly af­ter. Loose rock, fresh­ly blast­ed, was tum­bled in­to wait­ing cars and hauled away over rails laid per­haps but half an hour be­fore. Con­stant­ly in the front was Sutro him­self, coat flung aside, sleeves rolled up. In the midst of the fly­ing dirt, great heat, bad air, drip­ping slush, and slip­pery mud he worked side by side with the grimy, half-​naked min­ers, thus show­ing him­self ca­pa­ble not on­ly of plan­ning a great work, but of see­ing per­son­al­ly that it was well done, no mat­ter with what sac­ri­fice to his own ease and com­fort.

Af­ter the tun­nel was com­plet­ed, Mr. Sutro sold his in­ter­est in it for sev­er­al mil­lions of dol­lars. How that mon­ey was ex­pend­ed, any vis­itor to San Fran­cis­co well knows. With it were built the great Sutro baths, with their im­mense tanks of pure and con­stant­ly chang­ing, tem­pered ocean wa­ter, their many dress­ing rooms, their grand stair­cas­es, adorned with rare grow­ing plants, their tiers of seats ris­ing in rows, one above an­oth­er, with room for thou­sands of spec­ta­tors, and their gal­leries of pic­tures and choice works of art. Over all is a roof of steel and tint­ed glass. Nowhere else in Amer­ica is there so fine a bathing es­tab­lish­ment.

Be­sides this there are the love­ly gar­dens of Sutro Heights, de­vel­oped by Mr. Sutro’s mon­ey and ge­nius from the bar­ren sand-​hills of the San Miguel ran­cho. In ad­di­tion to these is the choice li­brary of about two hun­dred thou­sand vol­umes, which is of great use to the peo­ple of San Fran­cis­co. Per­haps nei­ther San Fran­cis­co nor Cal­ifor­nia has yet quite ap­pre­ci­at­ed the val­ue of the work of Adolph Sutro.

Since 1848 the state of Cal­ifor­nia has sent to the Unit­ed States Mint over one bil­lion dol­lars in gold. Of this, lit­tle Neva­da Coun­ty, which seems to be worth lit­er­al­ly her weight in gold, has sent over two hun­dred and forty mil­lion. The Em­pire Mine is the lead­ing pro­duc­er of Cal­ifor­nia, but there are oth­ers near­ly as rich. Neva­da City is in the cen­ter of this min­ing coun­try. The streets are very hilly, and af­ter a heavy rain peo­ple may be seen search­ing the city gut­ters and new­ly-​formed rivulets for gold, and they are some­times re­ward­ed by find­ing fair-​sized nuggets washed down from the hills above.

A vis­itor to one of the deep mines of Cal­ifor­nia says:–

“We de­scend­ed to the sev­en hun­dred foot lev­el, where the day be­fore a pile of ore had been blast­ed down. A lit­tle piece of the quartz, crushed in a mor­tar panned out four dol­lars in gold. I picked out one piece of rock, not larg­er than a peach, and the man­ag­er, af­ter weigh­ing and test­ing it, an­nounced that it con­tained ten dol­lars in free gold. The kick of a boot would re­veal ore which showed glit­ter­ing specks of pure gold.”

In the es­ti­mate of many peo­ple all very valu­able mines are sup­posed to be of gold, but this is a mis­take. While gold is king in Cal­ifor­nia, cop­per min­ing is rapid­ly be­com­ing of great im­por­tance. A con­tin­uous cop­per belt, the largest yet dis­cov­ered in the world, ex­ists un­der her soil, and while a com­par­ative­ly small depth has been so far at­tained, the prof­it has been con­sid­er­able. One of the largest quick­sil­ver mines in the world is at New Al­maden. The val­ue of the out­put of the bo­rax mines is over a mil­lion dol­lars a year. There were mined in Cal­ifor­nia in 1907 over fifty dif­fer­ent ma­te­ri­als, most of them at a val­ue of sev­er­al thou­sand dol­lars a year, with some as high as a mil­lion and over.

The min­er­al prod­uct of Cal­ifor­nia out­rank­ing gold in val­ue is petroleum, which has added great­ly to the wealth of the state. Nat­ural gas and min­er­al wa­ters are al­so valu­able com­mer­cial prod­ucts.

To many, the most in­ter­est­ing class among min­er­als is the gems, of which Cal­ifor­nia yields a va­ri­ety. The beau­ti­ful lilac stone, Kun­zite, was dis­cov­ered near Pala, San Diego Coun­ty. This coun­ty has al­so some fine spec­imens of gar­nets, and beau­ti­ful tour­ma­lines are be­ing mined at a prof­it. San Bernardi­no Coun­ty yields a su­pe­ri­or grade of turquoise from which has been re­al­ized as much as eleven thou­sand dol­lars a year. Chryso­prase is be­ing mined in Tu­lare Coun­ty, al­so the beau­ti­ful new green gem some­thing like clear jade, called Cal­ifor­nite. Topaz, both blue and white, is be­ing found, and be­sides these, many di­amonds of good qual­ity have been col­lect­ed, prin­ci­pal­ly from the grav­els of the hy­draulic mines. In 1907 there was dis­cov­ered in the moun­tains of San Ben­ito Coun­ty a beau­ti­ful blue stone close­ly re­sem­bling sap­phire, more bril­liant but less durable. It was named, by pro­fes­sors of min­er­al­ogy in the state uni­ver­si­ty, Ben­itite, from the place where it was dis­cov­ered.

Per­haps the most valu­able of all the prod­ucts of Cal­ifor­nia is its wa­ter sup­ply, ei­ther vis­ible as in springs and streams, or un­der­ground as in arte­sian wa­ter. Of its use in ir­ri­ga­tion, we have al­ready spo­ken. In the pro­duc­tion of elec­tric­ity it is com­ing to be of the great­est im­por­tance, mak­ing pos­si­ble the most stu­pen­dous works of mod­ern times. Such is the un­der­tak­ing of the Edi­son Elec­tric Com­pa­ny in bring­ing down to Los An­ge­les, over many miles of the rough­est coun­try, pow­er from the Kern Riv­er, tap­ping the tu­mul­tuous stream far up in the Sier­ras. The tak­ing of the nec­es­sary ma­chin­ery to those heights was in it­self a won­der­ful la­bor. The pow­er thus cre­at­ed is a bless­ing to a wide re­gion.