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BOSS SQUEEDUNK (CHARLIE HOLMES IV)

He was Santa Rosa’s top lawman by day, top scallywag by night: Around the turn of the last century, Charlie Holmes was both Town Marshal and leader of the Squeedunks. It’s as if Bruce Wayne split his time between Batman and performing Monty Python skits.

This is the fourth and final chapter in the story of Charles H. Holmes Jr., who was surely among the most…colorful people to come from Santa Rosa. While this article is centered on his Squeedunkery, here we also find how all those loose threads introduced earlier were resolved during the 1910s, when Charlie was in his fifties.

Charlie always craved attention and as a kid he saw the Squeedunk’s Fourth of July antics were the biggest hit at the town’s celebrations. Having an audience with everyone you ever knew laughing and cheering because of a silly speech seemed an easy route to popularity, and for him it was. The first newspaper item about him appeared in 1894, when the 30 year-old Charlie stood on the corner Fifth and Mendocino streets and yapped about politics and bugs. In keeping with the spirit of nonsense, the editor commented “thunderous applause greeted his apostrophes” and joked he didn’t shut up until someone “brought the muzzle of a six-shooter on a level with his open mouth.”


THE THREE (OR MORE) FACES OF CHARLIE HOLMES

Charles H. Holmes Jr. was surely the most talked about person in Santa Rosa 120 years ago, and that wasn’t always a good thing.

OUR OWN TOM SAWYER
TERRIFIC GUY, TERRIBLE MARSHAL
OH, LOATHSOME ME
BOSS SQUEEDUNCK

Now flash forward six years to 1900. Charles Holmes is a Spanish-American War vet (although his National Guard company never left the Bay Area), elected and then reelected as marshal, a popular afterdinner speaker and comic entertainer, and not the least of it, chairman of the “Ancient Order of Squeeduncks.”

The Press Democrat – which adored the Squeedunks and Charlie in equal measure – devoted much coverage to their planning sessions for the upcoming Fourth of July. The meetings were held at City Hall (probably in his marshal’s office) and mainly concerned which of the guys would be elected Squeedunk Queen. Dressing in women’s clothing was always a major part of the Squeedunk shtick, and that’s enough said about that. The most interesting element in those articles is that about two dozen members were named, revealing both how large the group was and how it cut across divisions by age and social status.

That version of the Squeedunks was entirely dependent upon Charlie, as witnessed by the group going dormant when he wasn’t around or wrapped up in his own troubles. From 1901 to 1908 they weren’t mentioned in the papers at all.

(Quick recap of those years as detailed in chapters two and three: 1901, office robbed of tax money, wife almost burned to death; 1902, not reelected, began working as plasterer in San Francisco; 1903, family house burned down; 1904, charged with rape for living with 14 year-old girlfriend; 1905, defends family against neighbor’s accusations of wife being abused; 1907, wife committed to asylum.)

Charlie kept a low profile in Santa Rosa between the time of his arrest for statutory rape and when his wife was locked away. Once Margaret went to the asylum for the rest of her life he began being mentioned in the local news again as active in his trade union and forming a company here to do plaster work. Notably, he and his crew would do all of the plastering in the post-earthquake courthouse. (It’s possible they were also responsible for the shoddy work on the exterior which would become a major excuse for tearing the building down.)

Come 1908, however, Charlie Holmes was here for good, and it was time to get the gang back together. That Fourth of July celebration in Santa Rosa was going to be peak Squeedunk.

“Holmes is a ‘cracker jack’ when it comes to being a funmaker on Squeedunk Day,” gushed the Press Democrat, resetting the clock to eight years earlier, before the scandals of his sordid relationship with a child, institutionalizing his wife and the suspicious robbery of his own office.

Indeed, Charlie and his pals put on the most spectacular Squeedunk show the town had ever seen, as detailed here earlier. They organized a separate parade, complete with elaborate floats managed by the “Committee on Freaks and Skates.” One wagon had a bush sprouting eggs and umbrellas as a poke at Luther Burbank; another made fun of the suffrage movement by portraying a woman enjoying a bicycle ride while men toiled at housework. There was a sea serpent (likely a Chinese parade dragon) labeled “What They Found in the City Water.” They produced and sold their own broadside, “The Truthful Lyre.” And keeping with tradition there were plenty of men in dresses and a float bearing their all-drag royal court.

The 1908 Squeedunks, Charles H. Holmes presumably wearing the circus ringmaster jacket. Photo courtesy the Sonoma County Library, title colorized using palette.fm
The 1908 Squeedunks, Charles H. Holmes presumably wearing the circus ringmaster jacket. Photo courtesy the Sonoma County Library, title colorized using palette.fm

That was the last hurrah of the Santa Rosa Squeedunks. The following year there was only a scaled-down Squeedunk parade in Sebastopol which was directed by Charlie, credited as “the grand keeper of the bale rope and oyster cans of the Squeedunks.”

Not that the boys completely retired to rest on their drunk and disorderly laurels. Later in 1909 Charlie and a bunch of them initiated a new member with a snipe hunt near the Rural Cemetery, newsworthy only because their sentry ran away after getting spooked someone was shooting at them.

Charlie lost interest in the Squeedunks after that and nothing more was said about a Santa Rosa chapter for years. The baton passed to Healdsburg and mainly Petaluma, where the “Growlers” came out for the July Fourth there. (I can find nothing on the meaning of the name, but it was originally formed by vets from their National Guard Company C.) The 1910 Growler parade was a complete Squeedunk clone: “The floats were ridiculous and amusing; the costumes – well some fit too soon, and others didn’t fit at all…The City Fathers were not forgotten by the Growlers and floats with banners telling their misdeeds were much in evidence.” (Petaluma Daily Morning Courier)

Perhaps he grew up (well, a little) in 1910 after he had married Nellie, his formerly teenage girlfriend who was 20 years old now. They kept house in a little place on Hendley Street for the rest of his life.

Squeedunk or no, Charlie still had to be the big cheese. His focus shifted to taking more respectable roles. Between 1911 and 1922, he served as Grand Marshal of either the Labor Day or Memorial Day parades at least seven times and when he wasn’t doing that he was marching as the Commander of the Spanish-American War vets. But the most significant change in his later years was becoming a leading figure – and perhaps the top leader – in the North Bay labor movement.

He was mentioned often in connection with union doings, starting with being here at a 1907 dinner for the Bricklayers and Plasterers’ Union soon after his wife went to the asylum. For much of the 1910s and 1920s he was president of the Sonoma County Building Trades Council and represented the area at meetings all over the state. This was a very important chapter in both his personal story and local history – but to be honest, I only have a general knowledge about the labor movement and am not qualified to opine about his role in it.

But his identity as a prominent labor activist came into play in 1920 when he ran for mayor of Santa Rosa. It was a curious bid, as Holmes had not held a public office since his term as City Marshal ended 18 years before, nor did he seem to be interested in party politics. Perhaps he would have reconsidered had he known it would lead the Press Democrat to hold him up to ridicule and shame.

The paper wasn’t openly anti-labor but it was always the voice of the Chamber of Commerce, so news about major strikes, picket line violence and Socialistic goals were reported in the scariest ways possible, often using screamer headlines. Even though the PD had been Charlie’s most enthusiastic cheerleader going back to the 1880s when he first began entertaining in minstrel shows and telling afterdinner jokes, the notion that an organized labor leader might be elected to run the city clearly gave business poobahs the nervous jibbers. So – friendships be damned.

The attack on Charlie was a scorching op-ed unlike anything I’ve read in the PD, before that time or after. It was shockingly personal and reached back to 1901, when the tax payments were stolen from his office (see chapter two). Editor Finley didn’t merely criticize Holmes for poor record keeping – which was a valid point – but went farther to call him dishonest, implying he had gotten away with stealing the money himself: “[T]here are some things which no self-respecting community can be expected to stand and one of them is to have a man who has already been tried in public office and has failed of his trust.”

Holmes’ response was also unique, writing a lengthy, rambling statement published in both the Press Democrat and Republican. The letter breaks down into three general themes:

*
I’M A GOOD CITIZEN   “I have strived to impress every man I met with my honesty of purpose; I have always been public spirited, and very favorable mention has your paper given me, as your records will show…Before I was a candidate, my influence was sought, my hands were clean enough.”
*
GIVE ME A SECOND CHANCE   “I have been told that the crowning glory of man does not consist that he never has fallen, but for every time he has fallen he has the manhood to rise again. If I had been the greatest of criminals I would have been entitled to the support and respect of right-thinking men. Societies are formed now to take the discharged convict and help him to become once more an honorable member of society. Why am I without the pale except when my services can be used gratis?”
*
I DESERVE PITY   “At that time I was just recovering from an operation. My father, whom I was supporting, was in the same condition. My mother had broken her shoulder. I had a wife partially insane, a crippled sister to support…God only knows how I struggled for years. Finally I lost father, mother, sister and wife in 38 months; alone I faced the world.”

The whole thing is so odd I encourage Gentle Reader to take a look at the transcript below. Other than seemingly confessing to the theft, his pity-me lament was shameless. His “crippled sister” Minnie was married to an Oakland police officer so while Charlie possibly helped with bills when she was dying of TB, it’s doubtful he was her sole support. As for his partially (!) insane wife, let’s not forget he dumped her in a state-run asylum. And as tears welled up in his eyes while writing about facing the world alone, I guess his teenage girlfriend somehow slipped his mind.

In the race for Santa Rosa mayor, Charles H. Holmes Jr. came in last among four candidates. As the job only paid about $17/wk ($266 in today’s equivalent) with no expense account, being mayor wasn’t about money or launching a political career – it was more like winning a popularity contest. It must have come as quite a shock for Charlie to discover the hometown crowd was cheering no longer.

After losing his bid to be mayor, Charlie continued parading but not as often. When he did appear in the papers it was nearly always a labor issue. His young wife Nellie was mentioned more frequently for involvement with charity work where she rubbed shoulders with Santa Rosa’s society women.

Nellie worked as a practical nurse (the portrait in the previous chapter shows her wearing a nurse fob watch) although it was never clear how much education she had – we don’t know if she attended Santa Rosa High, but if so, she did not graduate from it. She had her own car in the 1920s.

But all was not peaceful at the little house on Hendley Street. In 1924 they seemed headed for divorce and Nellie waived her rights to all property. The couple reconciled, but did not rescind the agreement.

Charlie died in 1926 after falling down stairs at the Elks Building where he was plastering. He was 62. The body was barely cold when a legal fight began over those papers Nellie signed a couple of years before.

Both Nellie and his sister Clara sought to be administratrix of the estate which included the house and three other lots in town, everything worth about $1,800 – less than a year’s average income. Nellie’s lawyer argued the property waiver was void because “she and her husband settled their differences and resumed marital relations which continued until his death,” as the PD put it. The court thought otherwise and Clara won.

Nellie moved to San Francisco where she continued to work as a nurse, eventually moving back to Sonoma County before WWII and remarried. She died in Santa Rosa in 1959 and is buried in Memorial Park as Nellie Holmes Fessler. Her death records again confirmed her age was 14 (at least) when she began living with Charlie.

Charlie was 30 years past his heyday by the time he died, and few likely worried over whether or not he would have a tombstone at the Rural Cemetery. As a benefit to veterans the federal government will carve and ship a standard headstone free of charge as long as the proper paperwork is submitted, including proof of military service. Clara filled out the application and the marker arrived here in 1928.

All well and good, tho it’s curious the Press Democrat printed a story about the marker arriving – an unusual topic for an article, to be sure. The item continues by noting “Captain Holmes served for many years with Company E, and also saw service in the Philippine Islands during the Spanish-American war and Filipino insurrection.” Yes, Charlie was a lieutenant (the gravestone properly states “Lt.” as he wasn’t boosted to captain until later) in National Guard Company E when it was mustered for the Spanish-American war. So he was indeed entitled to a government tombstone.

But Company E never left the Bay Area during their six months in the Army, so everything about them going to the Philippines wasn’t true. Who made up that part of the story? A PD cub reporter not bothering to check facts about something that happened so long before? Or was Clara spinning tales to “punch up” his service record?

It’s really not all that important to finger who got the facts wrong, although this serves as a good example of how easily the historical record can be corrupted. Still, we should be grateful his sister went to the trouble to get him a gravestone at all, given he likely wouldn’t have one otherwise. (Her own grave is next to Charlie and has a simple wooden marker.)

But the real problem is that the military epitaph, “Lt. Co. E. 8th CA Inf. Span-Am War”, says the very least about him. In a better world perhaps Clara could have twisted arms of his old pals and admirers to chip in for something more appropriate. Imagine taking a stroll through the old Santa Rosa Rural Cemetery and coming across a tombstone that read,


CHARLES H. HOLMES JR.
1864-1926
HERE LIES THE GRAND KEEPER OF
BALE ROPE AND OYSTER CANS

You’d say to yourself: By golly, that’s something you don’t see every day.

 

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THE FOURTH.

…The greatest feature of the celebration was the Squeedunks’ parade. The grand marshal of the day was W. F. Wines, who has the faculty of always doing things satisfactorily…The exercises after the parade consisted of an oration at corner Fifth and Mendocino streets by the orator of the day, Charles Cicero Holmes. It was an effort worthy of the occasion. He turned the calcium light of the oratory upon every conceivable subject. He got up and roared about Russian liberty and American tyranny. He talked with great tautology and with a phraseology that made every head swim. He talked of opolypods and thunderous applause greeted his apostrophes. The speaker evidently knew all about the protozoa and things men never knew before were luminous to him. He worked his long ears and talked like a “boss” at a Republican convention. He would have been talking yet had not some one in the crowd called him a sterilized liar and brought the muzzle of a six-shooter on a level with his open mouth.

– Sonoma Democrat, July 7 1894

 

…The Squeeduncks held high carnival in the afternoon. Some of the get-ups were very funny and some were rather vulgar. The best feature was the delivering of the orations and poem by Messrs. Holmes, Bradley and Orr, which contained many good local hits. Charley Orr as Susan B, and John McMinn, Jr., as the be-queen, were killing…

– Sonoma Democrat, July 11 1896

 

THE SQUEEDUNKS MAKE PLANS FOR THEIR SHOW

The Ancient Order of Squeeduncks met in adjourned session at the city hall Thursday evening with Chairman Holmes presiding.

The chairman announced that he had with the authority vested in him appointed the grand marshal of the parade on the Fourth, and that he being unable to attend the meeting, had requested him to announce the following named as his aides: Herman Bayer, Bill Swank, Jim Johnston, Jake Joost, Ed Kaelin, Henry Grama, L. Blum, Frank Brown, T. J. Dunn, A. O. Prentiss, Walt Middleton, J. J. Krawetzki, W. Schmid, Bill Beckner, Lon Roberts, M. McNamara, J. W. Seegelken, John Scoggans, “Dutch Ed,” Jake Lowrey, Hugo Hadrich, Billy Orr, John Stump, J. J. Giloolly, J. H. Lawrence, Charles Krause and J. H. Fowler.

On motion it was unanimously agreed that the Squeedunck queen be balloted for and that ballot boxes be placed at the “Bon Marche,” “The Elite” and “The La Grande,” and that the cost of the votes be one cent apiece, or five for a nickel, the proceeds to be applied to the expenses of providing the queen with a wardrobe.
It was agreed that $10 be appropriated for prizes for features in the parade, $5 to the best local hit and $5 to the best special feature, the judges to be announced later. The chairman announced that, owing to the late plague that had struck the town he would appoint the following committee on quarantine: Charles Lomont, Frank Powers, Robert Banbury O’Connor and Major Pye.

Mr. Holmes also announced that owing to the lack of proper restraining methods to keep his brother Squeeduncks in the path of rectitude pending the celebration, he would appoint the following committee on morals: William Healey, Gallant Rains, W. B. Griggs and Major Barnes.

The proposition as to whether the usual literary exercises or a meet of the A. B. H. T. C. P. should be held, provoked much discussion, but the matter was disposed of for future settlement.

A resolution was passed that the “dig-up” committee assume their duties as soon as possible, after which the meeting adjourned to meet in the city hall next Tuesday at 8 o’clock.

– Press Democrat June 16 1900

 

Will Downton Chosen Queen

The advent of several ladies into the meeting of the Squeeduncks at the city hall Thursday evening caused some consternation until it was discovered that they were desirous of joining the order.

Chairman Holmes quickly recovered his composure and in the name of the order gave them a hearty welcome.

The following were elected honorary members, each to contribute $2O to the fund: Joseph Ridgway, John Cooper, Thos. Hopper and Robert Forsyth. It was decided to have the singing of the Pedigo-Brown-Woodward-Keenan quartet the concluding number of the literary program, thus enabling those who wish to avoid that part of the program to do so.

E. C. Parker was appointed drum major of the Squeedunck band.

The ballots for queen were opened and it was discovered that the coveted position had been won by Will Downton, he leading by great odds.

At the last moment an attempt was made to stuff the ballot box by Wm. Rohrer in favor of John Berrano. The illegal ballots were identified and thrown out. Similar treatment was meted out to the voter.

The following will be maids of honor to the queen: Charles Kirsch, Ray Poat, George Riddle and William Plover.

It being observed that the street cars run nearly as well off the tracks as on and at any old time, it was decided to have them in the parade. Meeting then adjourned to meet Saturday evening at the city hall.

– Press Democrat June 30 1900

 

GLORIOUS FOURTH
The Squeedunck’s Committee Granted More Funds

Major Juilliard presided at the meeting of the Fourth of July committee held Monday night. Some very satisfactory reports were made which tended to show that the visitors here will be well entertained. Chairman C. H. Holmes of the Squeedunck committee was present and spoke relative to the part the Ancient Order of Squeeduncks will play. Another appropriation was given the committee and all that is now wanted to make this entertaining feature a success is the co-operation of the young men of the town whose help is needed.

– Press Democrat, June 27 1900

 

Chas. H. Holmes Has Declined Appointment

Charles H. Holmes of this city, who headed the list of civil service eligibles, was recently offered the appointment of instructor in plastering and military drills at the Preston School of Industry at Ione, but was compelled to refuse it, owing to being under obligations to a number of contractors for work they had figured upon based upon his estimates for plastering.

Mr. Holmes is now working with a force of men at Middletown, where he is doing the plastering on the Odd Fellows’ building. The large Herrich merchandise store and the Herrich hotel being erected by George Norris. He also has other work pending.

– Press Democrat, June 30 1918

 

HOLMES SHOULD RETIRE

Charles H. Holmes, whose candidacy for the office of Mayor was recently announced, owes it to the fair name of Santa Rosa as well as to the cause he is supposed to represent, to retire from the race as gracefully as possible and allow the incident to be forgotten while it may. There is no disposition here to rake up old scores or revive unpleasant memories. Let sleeping dogs lie. But there are some things which no self-respecting community can be expected to stand and one of them is to have a man who has already been tried in public office and has failed of his trust.

Mr. Holmes is announced as the candidate of organized labor. He is not representative of organized labor as we have known it. While there may be some differences of opinion regarding its wisdom, the question even now being one that is under active discussion in the labor world, there can be no real argument as to the right of organized labor to enter politics if it so desires. Labor has that right, and no one will deny it. But it must come with clean hands, and present as its candidates men who are capable and worthy of public confidence. Mr. Holmes should be withdrawn, and some man of different repute sustituted [sic] in his stead.

– Press Democrat, March 13 1920

 

HOLMES ANSWERS SUGGESTION THAT HE ABANDON RACE

CHAS. H. HOLMES.

Charles H. Holmes, candidate for Mayor, has sent The Press Democrat the following reply to its recent editorial suggestion that he retire from the race:

Santa Rosa, Cal,. March 15, 1920.

Mr. Monitor of The Press Democrat;
Dear Sir — You did not finish about “Sleeping Dogs,” although you gave a very broad hint.

About eighteen years ago I was City Marshal and Tax Collector. At that time the City Tax Collector’s office was robbed twice, once when I was in Vallejo, placing a boy in the navy for his parents, and once while I was in town. As soon as I could pull myself together I assured the city that no one should lose one cent through me. I raked, begged and borrowed $559; I asked my bondsmen to put up $750.00, which I would return to them. At that time I was just recovering from an operation. My father, whom I was supporting, was in the same condition. My mother had broken her shoulder. I had a wife partially insane, a crippled sister to support. I sold my home for enough to pay the city and bond company, put my helpless family in the street without a roof, pawned my watches for enough money to place my old father in San Francisco, where I worked, and starved and my family lived in privation and want until my father died, blessing me. Both he and my mother insisted on the money being paid that their son. as they thought, could look every man in the face; God only knows how I struggled for years. Finally I lost father, mother, sister and wife in 38 months; alone I faced the world. I have strived to impress every man I met with my honesty of purpose; I have always been public spirited, and very favorable mention has your paper given me, as your records will show. I offered my life to my country three times, commissioned in 1898 and ordered to the last training camp, notwithstanding my age, offered a first-class sergeantship with foreign service, which I refused because I expected my commission. One year ago took the civil service examination for teacher of masonry and drill master in the state schools, passing first in the State of California, refusing a position repeatedly on account of the salary and H. C. L. [“High Cost of Living” – ed.]

After the robbery I let my name go before the Democratic convention the third time and came within five votes of being nominated on the first ballot. Your paper did not then refer to “Sleeping Dogs,” as I had not committed the crime then of being a laboring man’s candidate.

I have been told that the crowning glory of man does not consist that he never has fallen, but for every time he has fallen he has the manhood to rise again. If I had been the greatest of criminals I would have been entitled to the support and respect of right-thinking men. Societies are formed now to take the discharged convict and help him to become once more an honorable member of society. Why am I without the pale except when my services can be used gratis? In forming the new ordinance for prevention of cruelty to animals, could you not include men? If it is any satisfaction to send a man who was always your friend home in agony and shame to find his wife – in tears, you have it, and the fact that you have said that which you did, proves that I am a law-abiding citizen. As to the right of the laboring man to enter politics. I failed to find where the laboring man loses any of his rights to citizenship by becoming a laboring man. Your efforts to capture the labor vote reminds me of a man catching a horse, a pan of corn in one hand (fair promise), a halter in the other for his neck. Before I was a candidate, my influence was sought, my hands were clean enough. I even signed one candidate’s petition, which I do not regret as he impressed me as a man of honor. Organized Labor invited the candidate to come before them because they thought some of them might be elected, and they wanted to know what manner of men they might be. As to me, not representing labor, let me say, in a mass meeting of delegates, representing every union man in town, after I had repeatedly refused, even stating that I had signed a candidate’s petition, I was unanimously nominated; they would not I take “No” for an answer. I was as much surprised as the other candidate.

I have lived in Santa Rosa forty-eight years. The people are intelligent enough to decide for themselves without any mud-slinging. I will leave the case in their hands. I feel, Mr. Monitor, that my heart is as pure as my hands, except from honest toil, as clean as yours. As to “Sleeping Dogs,” let the man without sin cast the first stone. I am not unmindful of the fact that there are sleeping dogs in every man’s life. Let both confess and cancel. I stand for anything that a patriotic American stands for: an economic administration, building for time, buying not the cheapest but the best, good schools and all that go with them, including salaries that will enable the teachers to live under American conditions, the encouragement of everything that will make a payroll in Santa Rosa, good streets and every form of modern improvements, consistent with our circumstances, the retaining in office of any public servant faithful to his trust; that all men, organized or unorganized, to be paid a wage that will enable them to live decently. Finally that all the taxpayers’ money shall be spent that every part of the city will get its pro rata.

Respectfully,
CHAS. H. HOLMES

– Press Democrat, March 16 1920

 

Charles H. Holmes, former City Marshall of Santa Rosa, Spanish-American war veteran and captain of Company E. N. G. C. of this city in the days of the old “Dandy Fifth” as the Regiment was then known, died early yesterday in the General Hospital as the result of injuries received last Saturday in a fall down the steps of the new Elks Building.

Holmes death came as a shock to many old time friends in Santa Rosa. He was about sixty-two years of age and was born in Nevada county of pioneer parentage. He was one of the oldest Native Sons in Santa Rosa and a member of Santa Rosa Parlor. He belonged to other organizations. By trade he was a plasterer.

Many of the old-timers will remember that Holmes took an active part in the Fourth of July celebration of the years ago. He also took a prominent part in Union Labor movement here and elsewhere.

The deceased is survived by a wife Mrs. Nellie Holmes and a sister, Miss Clara Lee Holmes. The body is at the parlors of Lafferty and Smith pending funeral arrangements.

– Press Democrat, March 9 1926

 

Two Seek Property Left by Charles Holmes, Local Plasterer

The widow and sister of a Santa Rosa man, killed recently in an accident, appeared in the superior court yesterday to contest for control of his estate. Both are seeking letters of administration in the $2,000 estate of the late Charles Holmes, Santa Rosa plasterer. The sister, Clara Lee Holmes, contends that the widow, Nellie Holmes, surrendered her rights to the estate through a property settlement more than two years ago.

Mrs. Holmes admitted in court that she and her husband had, in February, 1924, entered into a written property settlement in anticipation of a separation. But, she contended, this agreement was set aside when later she and her husband settled their differences and resumed marital relations which continued until his death.

W. L. Ware and George W. Murphy appeared as counsel for Mrs. Holmes while the sister was represented by A. W. Hollingsworth. The case was submitted to Superior Judge R. L. Thompson on briefs.

– Press Democrat, May 19 1926

 

The estate of the late Charles H. Holmes, former Santa Rosa plasterer, in which his sister, Clara Lee Holmes, was recently successful over the widow, Nellie Holmes, in a contest for letters of administration. is valued at $1,797.63, according to an appraisal filed in the superior court yesterday. The property includes a house and three lots in this city, worth $1,650, and personal property aggregating $147.63. A. W. Hollingsworth is attorney for the administratrix. Donald Geary, state inheritance tax appraiser, made the inventory.

– Press Democrat, June 10 1926

 

A property settlement agreement entered into more than two years ago by the late Charles Holmes, Santa, Rosa plasters, and Nellie O. Holmes, his wife, was binding and final, according to an opinion filed yesterday by Superior Judge R. L. Thompson, denying the wife’s plea for letters of administration in the $2,300 estate and granting letters to a sister, Clara Lee Holmes. In the recent contest for control of the estate Miss Holmes contended that the settlement closed her sister-in-law’s interest in the estate, but Mrs. Holmes held that resumption of marital relations, after drafting of the, agreement in contemplation of separation, had annulled the agreement. A. W. Hollingsworth was attorney for the sister, who is put under $500 bond as administratrix.

– Press Democrat, May 27 1926

 

CAPT. HOLMES’ GRAVE MARKED
Tombstone Supplied by U. S. Government for Spanish War Veteran’s Grave

Recognition of the services he performed as captain of infantry during the Spanish-American war and as a militia captain in old Company E of this city has come in death to Captain Charles Holmes, Santa Rosa contractor, who died about three years ago. An impressive tombstone to be placed above his grave in a local cemetery was received yesterday by Clara Lee Holmes, his sister, from the surgeon general’s office of the United States army after a year of effort. Captain Holmes served for many years with Company E, and also saw service in the Philippine Islands during the Spanish-American war and Filipino insurrection. In Santa Rosa, he maintained an active interest in military, and patriotic affairs, and was instrumental in securing the cannon and shells that stand silent guard over the cemetery in which he sleeps.

Miss Holmes yesterday expressed her appreciation to the American Legion, United Spanish War Veterans, union labor organizations and others for their assistance in procuring the tombstone from the government.

– Press Democrat, September 7 1928

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1895sunshineTITLE

THE YEAR OF THE ROSE FESTIVAL FIASCO

It wasn’t supposed to turn out that way. The 1895 Rose Festival was a perfect example of a Victorian American community celebration, drawing visitors from all over the West Coast, including the mayor of San Francisco and the Governor. Although it’s since been overlooked by writers of local history it was viewed at the time as being something like Santa Rosa’s coming out party – even though it ended up being quite a mess.

Hundreds of our ancestors dived in to make that Rose Carnival (its real name) a success through diligent planning and hard work. It also had a major boost because all of the major San Francisco newspapers – the Chronicle, Examiner and Call – touted it as they might a must-see gala happening in their own city. There were full-page features and front page updates over several days. All papers sent artists here to sketch the street scenes and people involved, and as a result it’s the best visually documented glimpse we have of an event from 19th century Santa Rosa. There are also several portraits drawn from photographs which no longer exist. A sampling of the drawings which appeared in SF newspaper articles can be found below.

Those 1895 doings were also surprising because the first Rose Carnival in 1894 was remarkable only in that Santa Rosa had been able to pull off anything at all. There were less than three weeks from when that one was proposed to the day of the parade. The idea that year was to draw visitors from the “Midwinter Exposition” which was kind of a World’s Fair being held in Golden Gate Park.

With so little time to prepare, about all that could be done in 1894 was to decorate storefronts with greenery. “The merchants were requested to ‘rosify and florify’ their places of business,” reported the Sonoma Democrat, praising the shopkeepers for what they were able to accomplish. “The appearance of the streets beggars description. Fourth street is an avenue of festal floral loveliness. The effect, as seen from above and below, looking down the brilliant aisle, is magnificent. Every store has its improvised greenhouse or conservatory.”

The parade was mainly local residents driving their family carriages with some flowers attached. Lots and lots of carriages. Highlights included mounted knights in armor (undoubtedly refugees from Healdsburg’s very weird May Day Knighthood Tournament), the Santa Rosa Canton of the “Patriarchs Militant” (say what?), and not one, but two little girls’ drill brigades. Afterwards there was a “battle of the roses” where the parade participants pelted spectators with the flowers that had adorned their carriages as the onlookers flung them back. This went on for an hour. Should Gentle Reader ever ponder why Robert Ripley was obsessed with oddball behavior, just imagine what an impression that scene would have made on a four year-old boy.

Despite the floral free-for-all, the Democrat commented, “There is much talk about making the Rose Carnival a permanent thing” and plans for the 1895 Carnival began four months in advance. They included a fundraiser by our hometown racist “All-Star Minstrels” at the Athenaeum (Charlie Holmes did a “Negro impersonation” and warbled, “When Johnnie Comes Marching Home”).

This time the festivities would stretch over three days in May, Wednesday through Friday. Today we might expect a town celebration like that to be scheduled for a weekend, but in those times Saturday was the big market day, when farmers shopped in town and stores stayed open late. On the last day there was to be a high-profile race (which would mean gambling) and heaven forfend such a thing happen on the same day we were all supposed to be piously sitting in pews.

Newspapers began whipping up interest weeks before the carnival. Their main focus was on the Carnival Queen competition, which gave editors an excuse to print lots of portraits of pretty women. The papers framed it as a beauty contest, cheering for different favorites to win.

Over 7,000 votes were cast at 10¢ per, and during the final hours ballot boxes were stuffed with envelopes containing up to $100. Isabel Donovan won with 4,610 votes. She was a leader in planning this carnival and the one before; she was also a working woman (general manager of the Sunset Telephone Company’s office in Santa Rosa) and unlike other nominees, wasn’t part of the society clique.

Three leading candidates for Rose Carnival Queen: Belle Spottswood, Isabel Donovan and Addie Steits. San Francisco Call, April 7, 1895
Three leading candidates for Rose Carnival Queen: Belle Spottswood, Isabel Donovan and Addie Steits. San Francisco Call, April 7, 1895

The publicity spotlight was also on cycling, and not just the race held on the final day. John Sheehy’s Petaluma Historian blog has a great essay on the 1890s bicycle craze and our Santa Rosa Wheelmen Club invited other clubs large and small. The Democrat reported the head of the Reliance club of Oakland vowed their group “…with its large contingent of lady bicyclists, will come up in a body to our Rose Carnival if invited. It is the boss club of the State, and will come uniformed and all together on wheels….Just think of it, one hundred and fifty gentlemen and ladies to enter the town on wheels escorted by our local wheelers, won’t it be a fine sight?”

1895arch

Two sketches from the San Francisco Chronicle, May 9 1895
Two sketches from the San Francisco Chronicle, May 9 1895

Meanwhile, Santa Rosa buzzed like a beehive as final arrangements were underway. Three arches were constructed downtown out of greenery; Chinese lanterns were strung above Fourth Street; plans were made for a flower show at Carnival Park (otherwise known as Kroncke’s Park/City Gardens); homemakers were preparing to make 5,000 sandwiches and the same number of Victorian America’s favorite junk food, doughnuts; hammers and saws were busy constructing parade floats, fourteen in all. Santa Rosa was ready.

Santa Rosa wasn’t ready.

Visitors unexpectedly started showing up the day before the doings were going to start. The SF Call noted that on May 7 “Strangers are already beginning to arrive. The noon train on the Southern Pacific was loaded with visitors. It is plain that the full capacity of the city to provide lodgings for the guests will be put to the test, but it is confidently believed that all who remain over night will be cared for.”

1895rosead(RIGHT: 1895 Rose Carnival announcement. Sonoma Democrat, May 4 1895)

(In a Believe-It-Or-Not! twist, Ernest Finley, future editor of the Press Democrat might have burned down the city that night. A kerosene lamp exploded in his Fourth Street printing shop and he threw the burning fragments into the street, where workers were still putting up the paper lanterns and bunting.)

Wednesday was the first day of the Carnival and the only event scheduled was the evening queen’s coronation at the Athenaeum and as such, it was expected to be more of a community event. The theater could hold an audience up to 2,500 in a pinch but the crowd outside was so large few could even get near the building. “The rush for seats was terrific. Two able-bodied men stood at the portal after the theater received its complement and refused admittance to the clamoring multitude” (SF Chronicle).

Not that they missed much. The featured orator was Attorney Albert G. Burnett, who began by noting the committee asked him to speak for no more than five minutes. He droned on for about half an hour, saying nothing (“…As we contemplate the picture before us we can not be justly charged with extravagance in the declaration that no imagination could be too bold nor copious nor creative, and no fancy could be too affluent to conjure tbe invisible spirit of beauty that dwells in these radiant blooms from our gardens…”). Then there were various classical music selections performed by locals.

The coronation was ersatz pageantry and pomp, the most high school-y part of the carnival. But as described by the Chronicle, there was one moment that seemed rather sweet: “…the hundred little boys and girls who had been halted in the main aisle were given the word to advance. On they came in pairs with their curly heads just showing above the tops of the chairs. Each tiny maid had her proud, or otherwise, escort by the arm and the whole band got up the steps without mishap. This in itself was a creditable performance and provoked much applause.”

After the ceremonies the crowd filed out of the theater to find an actual spectacle awaiting them: “Hundreds of Chinese lanterns bobbed and blinked from the same level above the street for fully a mile. While the exercises were in progress inside the merchants had lowered away on the lanterns and lighted them. The effect of the illumination was novel in the extreme – The red glow lit up the vivid bunting on the front of the buildings and gave the whole place the appearance of being in flames” (SF Chronicle).

The next day was the parade. “When the sun rose this morning it found the city fully dressed for the festival,” a Call reporter wrote. “Bunting and flowers and green things streamed over and bedecked everything, softening the hard lines of business blocks and quickening the long stretch of the streets with lively color.”

No one in Santa Rosa realized the first signs of the coming troubles were popping up at the Ferry Building in San Francisco shortly after dawn on that Thursday morning.

Because that was typically a slow day for travel, the SF&NP railroad offered a special $1.00 excursion rate for a round trip between San Francisco and Santa Rosa. The SF Call even promoted it with a little spot item headlined, “A Cheap Excursion – Ample Facilities Furnished to See the Rose Carnival.”

The Chronicle described the resulting chaos: “The crowd at the Tiburon ferry in San Francisco in the morning was immense. The approaches to the entrance of the wharf were packed with people. So dense was the throng in front of the ticket windows that persons who had provided themselves in advance were unable to get to the door. The streetcars kept arriving every minute with additions to the crowd. The attire of the ladies was disordered in the struggle to get through the ferry doorway and reach the boat.”

Packed to capacity, the steamer finally left the pier to cross the Golden Gate. Immediately a second ferry pulled into the slip and it, too, quickly filled with tourists. (And don’t forget hundreds of these passengers were bringing along their bicycles.) The sheer numbers were so unusual the Governor mentioned it at the top of a letter he wrote for the Examiner, and he wasn’t even on either of the ferries.

Once in Tiburon, the first excursion train had twelve cars that were likewise jammed full. The regular morning train followed and then there was another special with 15 cars. At that point, the ticket office in San Francisco closed its doors. That had never happened before.

“Very large crowds of people from other parts on Thursday were counted upon as a certainty, but the most sanguine were amazed at the multitudes which came pouring in from all directions by the regular and special trains,” the Democrat said.

And that was just the swarm of humanity descending upon Santa Rosa by rail. “They came from all directions and in all sorts of vehicles,” reported the Chronicle. “A six horse stage drove over from Calistoga with a load of decorated passengers and all the farmers within twenty miles of the carnival hitched up and came to town. The side streets were blocked with wagons.”

The flaw in all their planning was that they did not anticipate anything near such a great success. The 1894 carnival had 5,000-7,000 visitors, and they expected this year would be about the same. The San Francisco Examiner thought there were 15,000 visitors. The Sacramento Bee estimated there were twice that many, which would have made the crowd 5x the population of Santa Rosa.

From the SF Call: “The city has been thronged with visitors, taxing to the very limits the ability of its citizens to make provision for them. All the morning before the parade and all the afternoon after it had dispersed and the excitement of the time was at an end men and women, especially women with children, thronged the streets, resting upon the steps and doorways of stores and dwellings. The halls and stairways of all the hotels were peopled in this way, women and children were crowding into those little greenrooms that are ordinarily given over to the quiet game of poker, which game was forced thereby to suspend. All of this indicates the tremendous descent upon the little city and an overflow beyond the capacity to accommodate.”

The parade was scheduled to start at 12:30 but was delayed for nearly an hour, no reasons given. To fill the time, two hundred cyclists performed some sort of drill on Fourth Street.

Viewing the Rose Parade on Fourth Street. San Francisco Chronicle, May 10 1895
Viewing the Rose Parade on Fourth Street. San Francisco Chronicle, May 10 1895

Once the parade finally began the newspaper descriptions were surprisingly light, often tossing off a sentence or two for even the most elaborate floats. The Santa Rosa and Petaluma papers usually identified who was in the parade and reported – sometimes in great detail – what women were wearing.

Yet there was no question that the amount of decoration went far beyond what appeared the year before. Everything that could have a flower or just a ribbon attached was adorned – hats, parasols, wheel spokes on floats and carriages, bridles on horses, ceremonial swords and guns…you name it.

Queen of the Rose Carnival float. San Francisco Call, May 10 1895
Queen of the Rose Carnival float. San Francisco Call, May 10 1895
"'Sunshine' in the parade was represented by a large yellow float, studded with stars on a blue background. At the back a rising sun sent its golden rays upon the earth. Miss Grace Tuttle posed as the Goddess of Sunshine." San Francisco Chronicle, May 10 1895
“‘Sunshine’ in the parade was represented by a large yellow float, studded with stars on a blue background. At the back a rising sun sent its golden rays upon the earth. Miss Grace Tuttle posed as the Goddess of Sunshine.” San Francisco Chronicle, May 10 1895

Sadly, there was no illustration of the award winner for best decorated float, which was the entry from the Petaluma’s Young Ladies’ Mandolin Club: “…The fairy ‘boat’ was covered with pure white flowers, and within it were ten beautiful and charming young ladies who are numbered among the social favorites of the City of Hills, and who are members of the young ladies’ orchestra. All were exquisitely attired in snowy white, and each of the fair passengers of the dainty craft held and played upon a stringed instrument thus creating an effect pleasing in the extreme to both eye and ear” (Sonoma Democrat).

Unidentified girl on butterfly float and some of the 30 floral equestrians, "smothered in flowers, moss and ferns." Image San Francisco Examiner, description San Francisco Chronicle, both May 10 1895
Unidentified girl on butterfly float and some of the 30 floral equestrians, “smothered in flowers, moss and ferns.” Image San Francisco Examiner, description San Francisco Chronicle, both May 10 1895

Watching the parade was undoubtedly a joy, whether you lived here or not. But as the hours passed, spectators found that all those sandwiches and doughnuts, meant to feed a much smaller crowd, were gone.

“Those citizens here who had food and drinks to sell found themselves sadly pressed for supplies before the day was over. So great was the demand for victuals in any form that everything in sight was devoured. The hotels and restaurants were eaten out of house and home and the lunches set by the ladies in vacant stores vanished like dew before a summer sun. More than one able-bodied man who came late had to bear up under the heat and burden of the day with no other sustenance than hard-boiled eggs and angel cake. The country people who brought large tubs full of doughnuts, fried pullets and jam were well fitted to stave off famine and arouse envy” (Chronicle).

While nothing was mentioned in any of those Victorian-era papers, I shudder to think what the toilet situation must have been like during those Rose Carnivals. At the time Santa Rosa’s sewer system was notoriously undersized, with sewage sometimes oozing out of manholes even during normal conditions.*

To out-of-town cyclists and enthusiasts the bike race the next day was far more an attraction than the parade. Promoters expected a large crowd (it was later estimated there were 7,000 race spectators) because newspapers were hyping it as potentially a milestone event. The Democrat breathlessly told readers, “…it is expected that if the weather is not too windy the world’s record for the mile and half mile stands a good chance of being broken.”

Problem was, all the hotel rooms in town were already taken by the day of the parade, further adding to the stress of a large portion of our visitors. Since the excursion trains were just sitting in the railyard waiting to take people back to the ferries that evening, it was decided the railroad would run special reverse-excursion trains from Santa Rosa to Petaluma, where hopefully the bicycling crowd could find lodgings. That was also something that had never happened before.

The only photo supposedly from the 1895 Rose Parade, although there was no description in any newspaper of a group of children as seen here. Image courtesy Sonoma County Library
The only photo supposedly from the 1895 Rose Parade, although there was no description in any newspaper of a group of children as seen here. Image courtesy Sonoma County Library

Parade day wound up with an “illuminated” repeat that evening, although all that meant was the dim arc streetlights were turned on. And yes, afterwards there was another stupid battle of the roses.

On the last day the main events were that bike race at the Pierce brothers’ race track (now the county fairgrounds) where no records were set. There was a baseball game between Santa Rosa and the team from Stanford and a grand ball at the Athenaeum that night.

The only real excitement of that Friday was a runaway hot air balloon: “Professor George Weston made an unsuccessful balloon ascension from B and Ross streets. The aeronaut was to drop from a parachute when well up in the clouds, but his hot air balloon did not rise rapidly enough, and floating too low over the top of a house near C street, just a block away from where he started, he was compelled to let go to save himself and clung to the roof. The balloon rose some distance and returned to earth” (SF Call).

And thus the 1895 Rose Carnival was over and despite the many snafus, it was considered a great success. They didn’t lose money and actually ended up with a small profit. Plans immediately began to make the next one even grander.

Later Carnivals/Festivals are better remembered than the one in 1895, but in their day it was unlike anything anyone had ever seen. The amount of decoration was over the top and there’s no question that it set the baseline for every Rose Parade that has since followed.

In a historical context it’s worth noting it represented the sort of progress found in the Gilded Age, when women were making gains (albeit small) in being recognized for leadership roles. Unlike the first Carnival, half of the 1895 committee chairs were held by women.

Sure, it could have been planned better, but it was impossible to predict the turnout would be so enormous. It was something new and exciting and despite the huge crowd was probably great fun as long as you brought your own sandwiches, didn’t mind sleeping in a doorway and weren’t too fussy about bathroom facilities.

 


* At the time Santa Rosa had a sewage farm on the north bank of Santa Rosa Creek, about where the Stony Circle business park is today. Any overflow of the ponds due to heavy rains or excess waste sent raw sewage into the creek. For more see “The Sewage of Santa Rosa” by John Cummings.

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waterdrip

THE DIRTY WATER WARS OF MARK McDONALD

It took Santa Rosa awhile to realize it was under attack, but a no-holds-barred war was being waged against it by the man in the mansion on the grand boulevard.

You could say the conflict began in May 1893, when voters approved a bond to build a water plant. At the time Santa Rosa was getting its water from a private company owned by Mark L. McDonald; the water came from Lake Ralphine, which the Board of Health said was so fetid that his company was “criminally negligent and indifferent to our welfare as a city.” McDonald offered to sell his waterworks to the city at such a ridiculously inflated price it would be cheaper to start from scratch, even though it meant laying another set of water mains beneath every street. All of those doings were covered in “THE McDONALDS vs SANTA ROSA.”

Stepping up to buy Santa Rosa’s bonds was Robert Effey, a modest investor who happened to be mayor of Santa Cruz. While deciding whether to put the water bond on the ballot, Santa Rosa’s mayor and city attorney had visited that town’s very successful municipal water plant and met him. He offered to buy our bond for $161,000, being the lowest of only two bidders.1

A few days later, a lawsuit seeking to block Santa Rosa from making a deal with Effey was filed by a retired farmer named John D. Cooper. Most unusual about the case was that besides the city, he also sued the City Council as individuals plus the city clerk.2

Another suit to stop the city’s deal with Effey followed shortly. This time a retired rancher named John M. Jones was upset because construction plans had been updated since the bond measure passed. Mr. Jones likewise sued the city and Council members personally.

That was hardly the end of the anti-waterworks lawyering. Less than a month later, William Guisbert Skinner went after the city, the Council, the assessor, treasurer, and tax collector along with Robert Effey. His gripe was the terms of the bond had been slightly changed, and the city was increasing property taxes by 25¢ per $100 to pay for the bonds – although they hadn’t actually been yet sold. (As further explained below, the bond sale was delayed by both these lawsuits and the nation’s economic problems.)

Three different lawsuits over about six weeks is a lot of suin’ for little Santa Rosa. Who were these guys who were so upset about construction of a water plant they wanted to drag everyone into court? It appeared they must be well off, as they were represented by some of the top legal talent in the county: A. B. Ware, Calvin S. Farquar and the infamous Gil P. Hall.3

But Cooper, Jones and Skinner were hardly wealthy Sonoma County movers and shakers; one has to scour the old newspapers to find any mention of them at all, and then it was almost always for some small scale real estate transaction. There can be little doubt, however, they were acting as part of a coordinated attack on building the waterworks by the “Tax Payers’ Protective Union.”

The supposed grassroots organization was formed at the time of the Cooper suit but few members were ever named (usually just A. P. Overton, H. W. Byington and A. B. Ware). The Democrat wrote only it was “composed of well-known and reputable citizens of Santa Rosa” and “members comprise many of the heaviest taxpayers in this city.” Judging from signatures on a later petition, my guess is there were under fifty members, split between the investor class and elderly anti-tax cranks like our litigious trio. Skinner, by the way, didn’t even own property in Santa Rosa, although his suit was the one to complain about the increase in property taxes.

The Taxpayers’ placed an ad in the Democrat to trumpet their manifesto, which is a Thing to Read. It painted the City Council as recklessly draining the city treasury on “official extravagance” such as testing the safety of well water and buying a rock-crusher for street gravel, the Council meanwhile conspiring with Effey to screw over taxpayers because there was no intention to actually sell bonds or build the waterworks. Nice to know (I guess) a faction of our ancestors were just as paranoid and irrational as some wacky loudmouths today.

A later item in the Democrat reprinted a Taxpayers’ resolution revealing the group’s single real objective – demanding the city buy McDonald’s water company. Among their points was that “a water system supplied by gravitation” (meaning a higher source of surface water such as Lake Ralphine, not a water tower) is always better than using water pumped from the ground. Also, the city was to be blamed for “factional strife and expensive litigation” because they hadn’t made a deal with McDonald to take over his service and pay for long overdue upgrades and maintenance. Some brain-busting logic, there.

At this point Gentle Reader might be pondering whether Mark McDonald had something to do with the Taxpayers’ Union – and was he also paying for the lawyers in those many lawsuits?

We get a peek behind the curtain after attorney Farquar filed a lawsuit because he believed he had been shortchanged for his services. But he didn’t sue the litigant he represented: He sued Mark McDonald. The response from McDonald was that the lawyer was mistaken; legal bills were being paid by the Taxpayers’ Union, and Mark knew this because he said he had the receipts – which revealed he had control over their bank account.

This is an important (yet neglected) chapter in Santa Rosa’s history. It’s somewhat tricky to tell, in part because it sprawls over a decade. Also making research difficult: A question raised in a lawsuit sometimes wasn’t resolved until a court hearing for another suit years later; there were six different suits and some were so entangled with each other it can be unclear whether the plaintiff’s original complaint was modified, merged, minimized or dropped entirely. There’s enough material here to write a book but I advise any future scribe to keep a bottle of aspirin handy. Maybe a bottle of scotch as well. Maybe two.

Historians face a further obstacle because newspaper coverage was unusually slanted. Most of the events in and out of the courtrooms were covered only by the Democrat, and the problem wasn’t just that the paper showed heavy editorial bias (which it absolutely did, favoring the McDonald faction) but that it also selectively reported what was happening at City Council meetings. As a result, the overall picture is simply impossible to understand from reading the newspapers alone, making some key actions by the Council seem impulsive and reckless. Fortunately, we now have available thorough coverage of what was said at those meetings to fill in blanks. 4

The last big piece of the puzzle was the national recession, which is discussed in the section below. The banking world had turned upside down in the months between the bond vote and when the city was ready to actually sell those bonds. At one point the city found itself in the odd position of having to rewrite ordinances because there was no longer an agreement on what constituted “legal tender.” The economic system was in complete disarray, forcing our elected officials to navigate a volatile situation which had tripped up even professional bond traders.

For these reasons and more, few historians have even mentioned those events, and what little has been written portray it as a roadbump in the town’s otherwise steady progress towards the future. But I’ll argue the story isn’t about the lawsuits or even the water supply – the crux of it concerns the character of Mark L. McDonald.


DOWNLOAD
52-page PDF file of newspaper articles related to the McDonald water lawsuits



Often during that ten year span Santa Rosa was scurrying to respond to the latest edict from a judge overseeing a particular lawsuit and sometimes there was a crisis because money was simply not to be had. And throughout it all McDonald and his cabal were in the background, hoping the turmoil would steer the city into such great financial peril they would come begging to buy his troubled company – or perhaps the goal was to have the city sell the municipal waterworks to him, cheap. Either turn of events would have proven ruinous to Santa Rosa yet he not only didn’t seem to care a whit, but it appeared that was a key part of his strategy. It was all about money, or power, or whatever else it was that motivated him to wage a dirty war against his own community.

In no way is this article intended to present the whole narrative, but should provide enough detail to follow what really happened. In the SOURCES section below a chronological index is provided, and selected newspaper transcripts can be downloaded in a separate PDF file as shown to the right.


THE HARROWING ’90s

The “Panic of 1893” was a economic crisis in the United States which became a major recession that lasted five years. As summarized on Wikipedia there were several causes behind those woes, among them the crash of overvalued railroad stocks and the collapse of crop prices. As a result there were widespread farm foreclosures, hundreds of banks failed and unemployment lingered at double-digits. The Western U.S. was hit the hardest.

What initiated the panic in April and May of 1893 was fear President Grover Cleveland, who had spoken about wanting a more “flexible currency,” might seek to resolve the growing array of problems by abandoning the gold standard. This started ongoing bank runs as people sought to cash in their paper dollars for hard money and foreign investors sold their stocks and bonds only for payment in gold.

By early 1895 the stockpile of gold held by the Treasury was nearing exhaustion. With only days (maybe hours) to spare before the nation slipped into default, President Cleveland made an emergency deal with financiers to privately buy $62 million of treasury bills at four percent.

Cleveland and his cabinet, who only had been considering the usual sort of advertised bond sale open to the public, were hesitant at first because they weren’t sure it was legal. Financier J. P. Morgan – whose banking career began during the Civil War – assured them Lincoln had signed a statue allowing private bond sales in times of emergency. The attorney general fetched a book of Revised Statutes which proved Morgan’s memory of this long-forgotten rule was accurate. (I encourage you to read the entire account of this episode, as it is a quite remarkable story.)

So far we’ve covered about a year of the story between Oct. 1894 and the following August. It had been a rough ride; aside from the usual court hearings grinding away on the three ongoing lawsuits, part of the Skinner case even reached the California Supreme Court.5

It was now September 1895 and construction was about to start on the new municipal water plant. Santa Rosa mayor Woodward and the attorney for Effey took the train to New York with the mission to resell Effey’s bonds on the bond market. With the economy still very much in a wobbly state, bond traders were not fighting a bidding war over a low-yield muni bond from a pipsqueak farmtown few could probably find on a map. Effey had to sell them for less than the $161k he had paid, losing about $21,000 on the deal.6

No sooner had work began on the new water system that autumn when a fourth aggrieved taxpayer decided he was so darn mad over the water issue that he had to file a lawsuit of his very own. Like the other guys, this fellow was elderly, a retired farmer/rancher, and didn’t seem likely to have deep enough pockets to hire top attorneys.

wesleymock(RIGHT: Wesley Mock. Drawing from Sonoma Democrat, June 19, 1897)

And here, ladies and gentlemen, we now commence the entertainment portion of our program. The Wesley Mock lawsuit and court hearings were – to use highly technical legal terminology – bonkers.

Among Mock’s many allegations, both criminal and civil: The entire city administration was engaged in “illegality and fraud” in the sale of the bonds; the bonds were never actually sold; Robert Effey was colluding with the only other bidder, who he would hire to actually construct the waterworks; the city was negligent because the bond offer only attracted two bidders; that Effey’s bid was at least $31,000 (later increased to $41,000) higher than the estimated cost to build the project, and the city knew it; Effey was actually broke, as was the city treasury. Whew!

Once in the courtroom, Mock’s case wandered even farther out into the weeds. There was a day devoted to handwriting analysis intended to show Effey had written the other bid as well as his own (the results were inconclusive). Effey’s lawyer was brow-beaten by the judge into testifying about the New York trip, quite possibly violating attorney-client privilege (he deftly seemed to have forgotten nearly all details). And Mock’s lawyer tried to get the Republican publisher Allan Lemmon held in contempt for writing a “contemptible and scurrilous” editorial which pointed out everyone trying to block the municipal waterworks curiously happened to be a member of the Democratic party, even though it was apparently (?) written tongue-in-cheek.

These were all efforts to gin up controversy and make everything about the water project appear suspicious – if not downright sinister. There was testimony about mysterious sealed envelopes and a late night meeting at a bank where documents changed hands several times. Witnesses were called to the stand but couldn’t be found in the courthouse. There was so much dirt to reveal the Democrat didn’t even attempt to write it up as a regular news article but instead just published the court reporter’s raw notes, something I have never seen in a newspaper from that era.

Representing Mock at these court hearings was a heretofore uninvolved gunslinger: Edward Lynch, a famous San Francisco criminal defense attorney. Lynch also represented Mark McDonald in related water lawsuit matters, including that dustup over whether the money to pay the local lawyers should come from the Taxpayers’ or McDonald, and would also be McDonald’s attorney in yet another lawsuit discussed below.

But never, ever, suggest that someone else was behind Mock hiring such an expensive San Francisco litigator, or the 69 year-old would give you a sound thrashing. “I am acting in my private capacity as a citizen for the good of the community and am not the tool of a corporation,” he insisted to the SF Call. Yeah, sure: Dude, you’re living in a little 10th street cottage near the railroad tracks.

The Wesley Mock hearings went on for over two months in early 1896. Besides hinting darkly at covert skullduggery by Effey et. al. his lawsuit was amended during the hearings to ask the judge to hold the City Council in contempt of court. Angering him this time was the Council passed a motion to accept the waterworks even though the project wasn’t completed.

Of all the charges made by Mock’s lawyer, this accusation seemed to deserve scrutiny. Why the devil would the city pay for unfinished work? Maybe there was something shifty going on, after all.

But it was actually a key example of the Democrat revealing its bias via omission of facts. In the City Council minutes it showed they were concerned about sabotage by “some evil disposed persons” and the construction site needed to be under city control and guarded by a policeman. (This and other cites from City Council minutes come from John Cummings’ study available under SOURCES.) Readers of the Democrat – and modern historians who rely only upon what appeared in that paper – didn’t know there were now threats of violence being made.

The general election two weeks later saw turnover of nearly half of the City Council seats.7 Mayor Woodward’s final remarks regarded “utmost vigilance” will be needed to deter “those that are trying to destroy the efficiency of the new water system.” The new Council was even more determined to fight McDonald’s shills in court and vowed to “combat every suit.”

They wouldn’t have long to wait for that combat. Soon after that the judge in the Mock case approved an injunction to block the city from taking possession of the water plant. To do that, the court required Mock to put up a $4,000 bond which he obviously couldn’t afford – so McDonald and a banker from Santa Rosa Bank put up a surety bond for him. Ironically, this was announced in the same edition of the Democrat where Mock insisted (again) he had no ties to McDonald or his water company.

The municipal waterworks had been partially operational since the start of 1896, and there were still the concerns over someone trying to monkey-wrench the operation. The Council’s end run around the injunction was to pay the guy who built the pump system $400 per month to keep the water flowing.

That was an astonishing monthly salary for then (over $13k today), particularly because it came at a time the city treasury was bleeding dry. Santa Rosa had to hire outside legal counsel to help defend itself in the four lawsuits, especially because the judge allowed Mock’s hyper-aggressive attorney Edward Lynch to turn court hearings into a ten week fishing expedition. As a result, the city found itself borrowing from Santa Rosa Bank to stay afloat.

And then there were five: The same week the Council made the deal to keep the waterworks going during the injunction, Mark L. McDonald stepped out of the shadows as his water company filed its own lawsuit against Santa Rosa. It was mostly a greatest hits rehash of the Cooper-Jones-Skinner-Mock complaints, but it ran on for 125 paragraphs. The Democrat printed every word (of course) with a full month required to dump the whole thing on its readers, the newspaper filling up most of a full page per week. New to this suit was a Donald Trump-like whine that no one respected how much money Mark had spent building his waterworks and that there were dark forces within the government conspiring to hurt him.

daingerfield(LEFT: Judge William R. Daingerfield of San Francisco presided over the Wesley Mock hearings and trial because Sonoma county Superior Court judges recused themselves for conflict of interest. Drawing from Sonoma Democrat, Dec. 19, 1896)

The Mock trial began in mid-December and took three weeks. It covered much the same ground as the March hearings with new accusations that the city’s contractors were all fumblebums and chiselers. To refresh everyone’s memory on the background of the case the Democrat published an updated version of the Taxpayers’ Union manifesto on the front page, in all its conspiratorial glory. And as before, the paper printed every detail of the plaintiff’s arguments and little to nothing from the defense – but you can, however, read their coverage and be able to stun guests at a dinner party with your comprehensive knowledge of 19th century pipefitting. The Democrat did at least share the opening statement from the recently elected City Attorney.8

In an extraordinarily forthright courtroom speech, attorney Webber said his primary obligation was to find out for the citizens of Santa Rosa whether or not there was fraud – but regardless of the verdict, all of the litigation must end. We ought to cancel any portion of the water bonds should it be possible, as it would be better to cut the losses than spending another 2-3 years fighting lawsuits.

Equally remarkable were Webber’s subtexts aimed directly at the Taxpayers’ Union: “Hey, don’t you jokers realize that taxpayers are footing the bill for the city’s legal defense in all these nonsense suits coming from your group? And do you really know what you want? For the city to be forced into bankruptcy? For Santa Rosa to abandon the nearly completed waterworks?” (Considering the Taxpayers’ had earlier demanded the city acquire McDonald’s company, their true goals certainly seemed obvious.)

edwardlynch(RIGHT: Mark McDonald attorney Edward Lynch. Drawing from Sonoma Democrat, June 26, 1897)

Judge Daingerfield spent five months musing over the case before issuing his 44-page decision, which “created a great deal of surprise and considerable excitement and comment on the streets,” according to the Democrat. And the winner was… Wesley Mock. Sort of.

By letting Effey modify the plans to hold down construction costs after they had been approved by the voters, the City Council had committed fraud. This meant that while the bonds were valid, they had been unlawfully sold. The judge ruled members of the Council were personally liable for the difference between the actual value of the waterworks and how much was due to repay the bond. The city was to keep operating the system and hold it in receivership until its worth could be determined. All of the the Taxpayers’ wild-eyed nonsense about the bonds not actually being sold, secret meetings and the like were not even given consideration.

The court’s later judgement held that Santa Rosa could keep the waterworks if the defendants coughed up what was due between actual vs. bond value. Otherwise, the sheriff was ordered to sell the water plant to the highest bidder.

And we all know who that would be.

Nearly two years passed before the California Supreme Court ruled on the city’s appeal. During that time the national economy mostly recovered yet in Santa Rosa the outlook remained cloudy.

The city was still relying on its credit line to operate, particularly during the lean weeks before property tax payments were due. Thus the City Council minutes reflects their alarm when bankers suddenly demanded payment of the city’s $5,000 note along with interest. The bank in question was Santa Rosa Bank, which you might remember was the co-signer with Mark L. McDonald of the bond for Wesley Mock.

And still, McDonald continued plowing ahead with his Ahab-like determination to kill (or own?) the municipal water system. This new round of trouble began in 1896 shortly before the Wesley Mock trial with a notice the Fountain Water Company had been formed. Yes, in addition to the McDonald waterworks and the city’s own, Santa Rosa was now to have a third water supply – supposedly.

The water for this project was to be from Peter’s Spring, which at the time was mistakenly believed to be the source of adjacent Spring Creek. (Peter Springs Park is still there.) It was so named because it was on the old Jesse Peter ranch which was now owned by Mark McDonald’s brother James, who also had several stone quarries in the area.9

All was quiet on that front for nearly two years until August 1898, when the McDonalds put up a dam across Spring Creek just upstream from one of the city’s water pumps. Even if the source was actually Peter’s Spring on private property, it was clearly illegal to obstruct such a public waterway.

The newcomer Press Democrat, which did not inherit the old Democrat’s bountiful love for the McDonalds, remarked “…there has been an opinion pretty freely expressed in this city that the action of the Fountain Water company at this time was done so as to diminish the city’s water supply.” That was proven when it was discovered the McDonalds hadn’t just constructed a simple dam; they had made a deal with other property owners to let them dig a ditch to divert the creek around the city pump before rejoining its natural watercourse.

The city waterworks were not dependent upon Spring Creek water at the time so this irksome stunt had no real impact. But some on the City Council may have considered this dummy corporation as the last straw; according to their minutes, there was a discussion about suing Mark McDonald for all he and his gang had done to obstruct the city water project.

But come a year later, the city’s water supply was nearly maxed out and they needed to tap Spring Creek again.10 The mayor and city attorney went to the Fountain Water company in San Francisco (it was not mentioned who they met) to offer to buy the spring and surrounding ten acres. They were told the price would be $100,000. Back in Santa Rosa they countered with a written offer of $6k, but there was no response. So the City Council voted unanimously to pay a fair appraised price and take the land via eminent domain.

Mark McDonald’s response: Total War against Santa Rosa, and damn the expense.

The McDonald water company sued the city again, but this effort was quite unlike their suit from three years earlier (which was apparently still ongoing). This time Mark was represented by Jefferson Chandler, a famed Washington D.C. attorney who had argued and won cases before the U.S. Supreme Court. And this time he was filing suit in federal court in San Francisco. There were three points in his complaint:

*
ENTITLED TO MONOPOLY   In 1874 Santa Rosa had signed a 50 year contract with the water company he acquired. McDonald argued that gave him the exclusive right to provide the city with water until 1924 and the city must immediately cease and desist operating its waterworks, while paying $100,000 in damages. (This part of the suit also rehashed his familiar moaning over how much he spent on construction.)
*
TAKING PRIVATE PROPERTY   If the city used eminent domain to buy Peter’s Spring it would violate McDonald’s company rights by losing its access to a critical resource (although the company was not yet using the spring and there was no obvious way to pipe the water over to Lake Ralphine).
*
UNFAIR COMPETITION   The city was unfairly providing residents with “free” water. (Santa Rosa did not have water meters at the time, but anticipated each resident used 115 gallons per day. Instead of charging directly for water, there was an assessment and monthly fee for every water fixture in your home or business, the size of your lawn and garden, etc. See this article for more.)

At the City Council the Mayor urged they file a countersuit to revoke McDonald’s water franchise, according the Cummings review of the Council minutes. “[F]ight to the bitter end,” Mayor Sweet said, “with a view of ascertaining whether the majority should rule or whether a few Capitalists should manipulate the fair City of Santa Rosa.” The Council unanimously agreed.

That moment in early October, 1899, was the nadir of McDonald’s dirty water campaign; it had been five very long years since the launch of his first proxy lawsuit and fighting back had drained the city coffers. Besides the incident when Santa Rosa Bank demanded repayment on the $5,000 credit line, there was also a period in 1897 when the city completely ran out of money and couldn’t borrow any more.

But all that was about to change. Surprisingly, our story has a happy ending – for almost everyone except Mark McDonald.

The new McDonald suit was the greatest threat yet to Santa Rosa. A protracted battle in federal courts – which Mark would probably appeal all the way to the U.S. Supreme Court, should he lose initially – could be ruinously expensive and might even force the city into bankruptcy. But whatever might happen there was of less immediate concern than the final ruling on the Wesley Mock lawsuit, as members of the City Council and administrators were to be held personally responsible to pay back any excessive debt on the water bond.

Word from the state Supreme Court came down later that October. There was bad news: The Court upheld Judge Daingerfield’s overall ruling. There was good news: The city, not the individual officials – was to be held liable for the debt. Other parts of the decision allowed the city to take control of the waterworks (which presumably meant they could stop paying that engineer $400/mo to run it) until its value could be determined. Once that was known, the city had the option of paying the difference from the bond price; otherwise, the sheriff would auction off the waterworks (with the proviso that the city couldn’t make an offer). It was considered around town as quite a fair decision.

Next was holding an advisory jury trial to set the value of the waterworks. This was to be held in Santa Rosa with Daingerfield presiding, and those who thought he showed bias against the city during the Mock trial were concerned because he said this jury could only consider the worth of the water plant itself, and not the land it used.

The trial began in January 1900 and took exactly a month. The jury wasted no time and returned with a unanimous verdict after only twenty minutes: The waterworks were not worth the $161,000 amount of the bonds – it was worth far more, valuated at $190,000.

“When the verdict was read the courtroom was crowded and the crowd applauded vociferously. The local papers issued extras and the streets were crowded until a late hour by citizens who discussed the verdict and congratulated the defendants upon the outcome,” reported the San Francisco Chronicle.

Now the city’s attention turned back to Peter’s Spring, and it began condemnation proceedings against the Fountain Water Company and James McDonald. Court hearings and a trial consumed the rest of the year 1900. The McDonalds again tried to claim the ten acres were worth $100k while Santa Rosa argued the market value was no more than $50/acre. The city won again, and Spring Creek water was finally being pumped into the city’s reservoir, but the case would drag on until 1904 as the McDonalds sought a new trial. It was eventually settled they were to be paid only $4,515.55.11

And also in 1904, McDonald’s last-gasp federal lawsuit was laughed out of court – a private corporation claiming it could dictate the shutdown of a public utility wasn’t even worth consideration. Sweetening the decision, McDonald was further ordered to pay Santa Rosa’s court costs.

So endeth Mark McDonald’s long and often underhanded fight against Santa Rosa’s water system. A couple of takeaways:

Aside from the scale and relentlessness of McDonald’s legal assaults, what he was trying to do was not unique in that era. In 1899 a letter writer to the SF Examiner noted Palo Alto and other cities had faced costly lawsuits from private water companies seeking to block municipal water works.

It’s worth taking a step back and looking over what had really happened here. As I wrote earlier, this story is really about the character of Mark L. McDonald. Over a quarter century, he had lurched from being Santa Rosa’s champion to becoming the town’s pariah, all in his obsessive drive to control what came out of our faucets. Why a man of such wealth and influence would throw away most of the goodwill in the town where his family lived we can only wonder.

 

1 Robert Effey was mayor of Santa Cruz 1884-1888 and again 1894-96. He was a watchmaker and jeweler by trade. In the 1890s he was a bidder on several California muni bonds but aside from the Santa Rosa water system, the only bonds he seemed to hold were for Stockton’s sewer. His Dec. 1930 obituaries did not identify him as an investor, but mentioned he was the last surviving member of the “Bango club,” which was a ten member hiking and drinking club that regularly walked from Santa Cruz to San Jose or Watsonville. At a prearranged location they would be met by as many as 300 of their friends to engage in “conviviality.”
2 Believe-it-or-not! There were three, maybe four John D. Coopers living in or around Santa Rosa in the late 1890s, all unrelated. This farmer died in 1917 and was buried in the Rural Cemetery; another died in 1925 and was Windsor’s Justice of the Peace; another spent his last years at the County Poor Farm and died in 1909. The most well-known J.D.C. at the time had a Fourth street wine and liquor store along with a saloon. Was he the fellow who died at the poorhouse, or individual #4?
3 In 1895, the year following these events, Gil P. Hall would be indicted for felony embezzlement over $4.6k that went missing during his term as County Recorder.
4 Ample and Pure Water for Santa Rosa, 1867-1926 by John Cummings; Prepared for the Department of Utilities, City of Santa Rosa, 2002
5 Skinner v. Santa Rosa concerned how the city was to make interest payments on the water bond. In Nov. 1894 the Council had changed the terms of the bond to make payments in gold only, semi-annually instead of annually, and payable in New York City. The California Supreme Court ruled the Council couldn’t do that unless they issued new bonds, which the city did in Sept. 1895.
6 Robert Effey had planned to use Coffin & Stanton, the New York bankers who had handled the bonds for the Santa Cruz water system. But that firm failed in Oct. 1894, so Effey approached Seligman & Company, one of the largest investment banks in New York City. After buying the bonds at a discount of $144,601.87, the bank tendered them for sale at 538 percent.
7 Two City Council members (both Republicans) lost by a narrow margin and two didn’t run for reelection, but Mock’s attorney Edward Lynch insisted the election results showed public belief of malfeasance.
8 Partial transcript of statement by City Attorney O. O. Webber at the Mock trial, December 18, 1896: “…The complaint on file in this action alleges fraud. I want to say right here if there is any fraud, or any has been committed by the Council or anyone else during all the leading up to, or the construction of the waterworks, or disposition of the bonds, I, as city attorney, representing the taxpayers of the city, want my clients to know the truth of the charge in this case. I am the attorney of the city, which I interpret to be the taxpayers and the city officials, but I believe my first duty lies to that people that had the confidence to place me in that position. I am not forsaking the officials who are the defendants in this action. I have consulted part of them and asked them to tell me if there was anything wrong done by them, or anything that should be covered. They informed me that everything is perfectly straight. I therefore have no alternative but to believe them and I therefore will do all in my power to lay this case before the taxpayers of this city as plainly as I can. The truth is the whole expense of this litigation regardless of who wins or who loses the suit must be borne by the taxpayers of Santa Rosa. The attorneys employed in this litigation must be paid by the taxpayers of Santa Rosa and I believe it is now time that we should begin to realise the true status of this whole affair. This litigation should be stopped. If the bonds can be brought back we can do it today cheaper than we can by litigating two or three years. If they cannot be recovered and the proceedings have all been legal and according to law I want the citizens to know that fact so that they may act intelligently as a community in this whole affair…”
9 The rancher was Jesse Peter Sr., not his same-named son Jesse who became an archeologist and taught at SRJC.
10 The city water works initially had an intake on Spring Creek, but it was disconnected in July 1896 because the volume of water provided by the wells was sufficient.
11 In a surprising turn of events, the city sold Peter’s Spring to McDonald’s waterworks in 1909, with his company intending to pump “water from the spring to an elevated point between it and the present reservoir of the company,” according to a 1911 Press Democrat item.

 

sources
 

Besides contemporary newspaper articles, references to the City Council minutes are drawn from Ample and Pure Water for Santa Rosa, 1867-1926 by John Cummings. The chronology below covers most of the key events discussed in this chapter, but there are over 200 items related to this topic just in the Sonoma Democrat/Press Democrat. Transcriptions of selected newspaper articles mentioned there are available for download in a 52-page PDF file
.

 

CHRONOLOGY OF KEY EVENTS IN McDONALD WATERWORKS LAWSUITS
(Dates reflect publication and may lag event by 1-6 days)

 

6 October 1894 Effey bid accepted

13 October 1894 Cooper suit vs city – not enough money to pay bonds

13 October 1894 Taxpayers’ Union formed
      (C. S. Farquar and Gil P. Hall, Attorneys for taxpayers)

27 October 1894 Jones suit vs council – Effey plans are different

3 November 1894 Taxpayers’ manifesto

24 November 1894 council changes terms of bond to payable in gold

1 December 1894 Cooper, Jones and others file amicus to Skinner
      (William F. Russell atty for Skinner AB Ware and Farquar for others)

8 December 1894 Skinner case only on validity of bonds

15 December 1894 Skinner not in good faith

22 December 1894 change in bond terms valid (Cooper vs. Steadman)

29 June 1895 change in bond terms invalid

6 July 1895 Taxpayers’ resolution for city to buy McDonald’s works

27 July 1895 ordinance 162 adopted: annual interest payment

5 October 1895 Effey contracts with Perkins to begin work

19 October 1895 Mock suit collusion between city and Effey
      (A. B. Ware, C. S. Farquar and Gil P. Hall attorneys)

19 October 1895 construction underway

16 November 1895 J. M Jones dropped

4 January 1896 city accepts unfinished waterworks

25 January 1896 Democrat printed entire Effey testimony

1 February 1896 Mock wants council held in contempt for accepting works

2 February 1896 Mock will thrash

22 February 1896 court hearing: council shouldn’t be held in contempt

29 February 1896 court ruling: council not in contempt

18 March 1896 Lemmon contempt threat

21 March 1896 court hearing: handwriting questions

21 March 1896 court hearing: trip to NYC for bonds – Effey lost money

28 March 1896 court hearing: bonds sold in NYC for $144.6k

4 April 1896 Mock hearing closes
      (election: Woodward, Collins out; Harris and Tupper didn’t run)

30 April 1896 Farquar sues McDonald

16 May 1896 Mock letter: I am not a shill

16 May 1896 restrain orders Perkins to stop city not to accept

20 May 1896 McDonald says Farquar was paid by taxpayer union

12 June 1896 contract with Perkins to maintain and supply water

13 June 1896 McDonald first suit against city

18 July 1896 amended to seek tax refund for illegal tax

14 November 1896 Fountain water company incorporated

28 November 1896 Democrat claims city is running a deficit of $1000-1200/mo

19 December 1896 Mock trial begins

2 January 1897 lengthy account by Taxpayers’ Union

9 January 1897 Mock trial ends

5 June 1897 Cooper v. Steadman suit thrown out

19 June 1897 Mock wins

20 June 1897 Examiner: Mock wins (includes history)

18 December 1897 judgement (city contract with Effey void, bonds were unlawfully disposed of)

17 August 1898 Fountain builds dam on Spring creek

20 August 1898 Fountain dam intended to hurt city

17 September 1898 Fountain diverts water around city pump

6 September 1899 McDonald wants $100k for Spring creek

4 October 1899 McDonald sues city to stop free water for 25 years

21 October 1899 Supreme Court: City cannot buy, Council not liable

10 January 1900 advisory jury trial begins

10 February 1900 Mock overturned – value of work proper – celebration

17 February 1900 fundraising for council defendants

17 March 1900 city sues Fountain to condemn land

13 December 1900 start of condemnation suit

11 March 1902 Fountain land only worth $4k

3 June 1904 court throws out 1899 McDonald suit

15 September 1904 city drops Fountain suit

22 July 1911 McDonald buys Fountain

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