1905

COMSTOCK HOUSEWARMING

Jeff Elliott Leave a comment

It was a grand housewarming for the grandest new house in Santa Rosa, as Wyatt and Mattie Oates threw the first of many parties at the home that would later become known as Comstock House. Not so grand was the weather that July 7th; it was the peak of a murderous heat wave, with the temperature that day reaching 109 degrees, just shy of Santa Rosa’s all-time high of 110 that would be recorded in 1972.

Newspaper descriptions of house parties at the time often mentioned card games with prizes awarded to best players, and Mr. Oates was frequently reported as a winner. Thus it’s no surprise that visitors to the first event at his home were greeted by no fewer than 18 card tables. Played here is Euchre, a very popular team-against-team game like Bridge, and specifically Railroad Euchre, a faster-paced version that was popular among train passengers.

FIRST FUNCTION IN A CHARMING HOME

COLONIAL RESIDENCE OF COL. AND MRS. OATES SCENE OF BRILLIANT PARTY
The Misses Anna May Bell and Margaret Harrell the Guests of Honor – Cards and Music

The handsome new Colonial home of Colonel and Mrs. James Wyatt Oates on Healdsburg avenue last night was ablaze with light and daintily decorated for the large party given by them in honor of their guests, Miss Anna May Bell of Visalia and Miss Margaret Harrell of Fresno.

Additional significance was lent the function inasmuch as it was the first social gathering given in the new home and might also have been termed the housewarming.

The elaborate furnishings and the finishings architecturally of the interior left practically little for the decorators to do to enhance the appearance of things and there was nothing lacking to make the party a delightful success. From the nature of the decorations, the dainty prizes awarded, at cards and other features it was a Dutch Colonial party given in a Colonial home.

The guests were mostly young people invited to meet Miss Bell and Miss Harrell. Railroad euchre was played during a portion of the evening and the prizes were won by John Tyler Campbell, gentlemen’s first prize; Mrs. H. G. Hahman, ladies’ first prize and Mrs. Ralph Belden, lone hand. The remainder of the evening was devoted to social converse and music. Miss Frances Woolsey gave a whistling solo, Miss Blanche Hoffer a piano number and the Misses Bell and Harrell a duet. The last named young ladies were awarded prizes as guests of honor. There were eighteen tables for cards and some of them were placed on the spacious verandah which was transformed into a pretty bower. Refreshments were served. Mrs. Oates was assisted in receiving by her mother, Mrs. M. S. Solomon.

– Press Democrat, July 8, 1905

The Oates’ Card Party An Enjoyable Affair

Miss Anna May Bell of Visalia and Miss Margaret Harrell of Fresno were guests of honor at a charming party given last evening by Colonel and Mrs. James Wyatt Oates, with whom they are spending the summer. Southern hospitality was manifest in the cordial welcome Colonel and Mrs. Oates gave their guests, who enjoyed the evening thoroughly. The handsome new colonial home was thrown open for entertaining last evening for the first time and its spacious rooms, arranged in such artistic fashion, were very much admired.

Euchre was played in the drawing room and on the wide veranda which was enclosed with canvas. The scorecards were decorated with tiny Dutch Colonial figures and the prizes were also in quaint Dutch design. These were won by Judge John Tyler Campbell, Mrs. A. G. Hahman and Mrs. Ralph Belden.

Mrs. Oates’ mother, Mrs. M. S. Solomon, assisted her in receiving and also assisting were Miss Blanche Hoffer, Miss Bell and Miss Harrell, who gave piano selections and Miss Frances Woolsey, whose whistling solos with piano accompaniment were exquisite. Supper was daintily served at the card tables.

– Santa Rosa Republican, July 8, 1905

Read More

THE VOYAGE OF THE “AER FERVENS”

Jeff Elliott Leave a comment

This item is absolutely stuff ‘n’ nonsense, which raises the question of why it even appeared in the Press Democrat. Certainly stories sometimes had tongue-in-cheek slants; just a few weeks later, for example, W. S. Davis again was in the news, this time as a great fisherman who landed his prize catch at a grocery on the way home. But in my readings, such a completely fantastic yarn is unprecedented in either Santa Rosa paper of this era.

Today we likely can’t unravel all the inside jokes and cultural references here; “Aer Fervens” is elementary Latin for “hot air,” and the general ridicule of aviation may relate to editor Finley’s belief that nothing would ever become of these flying machines, as shown in his op/ed discussed in the following post. Oates is, of course, the first owner of Comstock House, and Davis was his next-door neighbor. Ads in other California newspapers for St. Louis-brewed Budweiser began appearing after the 1904 World’s Fair in St. Louis, so perhaps the beer was viewed as an exotic import around Santa Rosa at this time.

Santa Rosa Skyship Sails

Last night at 9 o’clock the new skyship “Aer Fervens” mounted to the clouds from the grounds of the residence of its inventor and builder, W. S. Davis; and after steering a zigzag course for a few minutes, just as a carrier pigeon does in geting its bearings, the new craft turned its nose to the southwest and followed a straight course over the hills and toward Bennett Valley.

A “message” was sent to President Roosevelt apprising him of the airship’s flight; and the President responded with congratulations, and the announcement that he had appointed the inventor to the rank and station of “Rarest Admiral” in the navy, and assigned him to the command of the aerial fleet. For many months “Rarest Admiral” Davis had burned the midnight oil in working upon his invention. Last night his efforts were crowned, and he was a proud man as he watched the product of his hands and brain soar among the clouds, and disappear over the hills.

The launching of the skyship was attended by appropriate ceremony. Colonel J. W. Oates, who is financially interested in the enterprise, sang “Up in a Balloon,” and the inventor broke an empty Budweiser bottle over the prow as the vessel mounted skyward. The “Aer Fervens” is equipped with wireless telegraph apparatus, by means of which the following message was sent to those who were waiting:

“Bennett Valley Grange Hall, 10 p. m. — Landed 9:45, good condition. Only ten pages of speech used as fuel. Will present remainder to Judge Barham. As passed over Taylor mountain, saw plainly Jim Hallihan at back door putting out cat, prepariory [sic] for retiring. Goodnight.”

– Press Democrat, July 4, 1905

Read More

MAN WILL NEVER, EVER, FLY

Jeff Elliott Leave a comment

Press Democrat editor Ernest Finley had the cloudiest of crystal balls in 1904/1905. First he gave his paper’s enthusiastic endorsement for the weakest presidential candidate in the 20th century (which really says something), then a few months later wrote the editorial below, proclaiming that “the so-called flying machine [will never be] useful for any practical purpose.” Perdant un jour, perdant toujours.

Finley’s swipe at aviation was a comment on a story that appeared in the paper a day before, datelined July 18, 1905: “Professor John J. Montgomery’s aeroplane, the ‘Santa Clara,’ collapsed this morning at an elevation of 3000 feet. Aeronaut Daniel Maloney was hurled to the ground, with the collapsed wings of the ‘human bird’ falling on him.” As the pilot tumbled to his death, a crowd of 2,000 watched on.

To be fair, Finley probably thought that the accident happened at the sort of air exhibition show that was common in 1905 all across America, where locals could pay for an ascension in a tethered hot-air balloon, then watch a parachutist make a jump. A balloon troupe visited Santa Rosa about a month later, in fact, as shown in the blurb below (although earlier that year, Prof. Hamilton wasn’t touring with the lovely Miss Carrie, but instead a parachuting monkey named “Jocko”).

But the tragedy with the “human bird” was part of no novelty act. More than anyone else, Dr. Montgomery was the father of modern aviation; as early as 1883 he had a glider that could be controlled by its pilot, more than two decades before the Wright Brothers flew with an engine attached to their aircraft. Montgomery invented the word, “aeroplane” and had the first patent for such. (Film buffs may know the story through the 1946 soapy biopic, Gallant Journey.)

Here in July 1905, Montgomery and the pilot of his glider, Daniel John Maloney, an experienced aeronaut in the balloonist/parachutist vein, were demonstrating their aircraft before an audience in the (now-Silicon Valley) city of Santa Clara. The aircraft, named after the town and college where Prof. Montgomery taught, was pulled aloft about 4,000 feet by a hot-air balloon. Cut loose, he was expected to make a graceful, safe, and awe-inspiring bird-like descent that took up to half an hour. Practice sessions earlier that spring in Santa Cruz had gone very well. A picture-perfect trial demonstration at Santa Clara in April boosted confidence. But two discouraging failures followed, including a fund-raiser where the balloon rope snapped about 200 feet off the ground. The audience felt cheated and booed.

On the next test flight on July 18, the largest audience yet watched as the aeroplane was pulled upwards. Montgomery reportedly noticed that one of the balloon’s lines had damaged a wing, and shouted orders for Maloney to again abort the flight. His warning wasn’t heard, or was ignored.

As reported in the Press Democrat: “Maloney cut loose at 4,000 feet and began maneuvering the aeropane. He circled gracefully for some minutes, having the machine under perfect control. Suddenly the machine swerved, hesitated, and then turned completely over. It righted itself, sank down a considerable distance, and turned over again. Maloney was clinging desperately to his seat, and evidently endeavoring to regain his control, but all efforts were in vain. Again the aeroplane turned in the air, and this time the wings came together and the man and machine plunged straight downward.”

A little over two years from that moment, doubters like Finley would have to concede the practicality of aviation when the Wright Brothers made their first public flight in France. Adding a dose of irony to the editor’s poor prognostication, in 1911 local pilot Fred J. Wiseman swooped over the farms between Petaluma and Santa Rosa in his experimental aircraft, and as a woman on the ground waved to him, Wiseman tossed something down to her that would become recorded as the world’s first airmail delivery. It was a copy of the Press Democrat.

THE FLYING MACHINE

Tuesday’s shocking accident at Santa Clara, in which Aeronaut Maloney lost his life while attempting to manipulate Professor Montgomery’s aeroplane, again emphasizes the difficulties that attend and must always attend any systematic attempt to navigate the air. Encouraged by the success reported to have been achieved by inventors in different parts of the world, many people have allowed themselves to become enthused to the point of predicting all kinds of impractical results in the line aerial navigation, but it is not at all likely that machines built for that purpose will ever develop beyond the toy stage. The favorite argument advanced in answer to this contention is to point to the things that have been accomplished in other lines, and say that many other inventions once considered equally impossible have been perfected and brought into general use, so why not the flying machine? This argument is manifestly unfair from the fact that the phonograph, the telephone and most of the other scientific attainments that come under that head have been new discoveries — developments of ideas not only unperfected but also unthought of until such time as accidentally suggested by unforeseen and unexpected circumstances. The flight of the bird, on the other hand, is something man has been endeavoring to imitate ever since the eagle first stretched wing. If it were possible to endow a machine with intelligence and instinct, the successful flying machine might perhaps be numbered among the coming [line illegible] certain. The limited supporting power of the air itself and the consequently light and fragile method of construction that must in all cases be followed, together with the variability and uncertainty of the atmospheric conditions that have to be overcome, promise to continue to baffle human ingenuity in the future as they have in the past, and no matter how highly perfected, forever prevent the so-called flying machine from becoming useful for any practical purpose.

– Press Democrat editorial, July 20, 1905

Read More