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YOUR PILOT TODAY IS FRED J. WISEMAN

Jeff Elliott Leave a comment

In 1910, you could have printed on a single sheet of paper the name of every person to have flown in an airplane. Engine-powered flying machines had evolved from the stuff of fantasy to reality in less than two short years (or so most of the public and press believed) and the “bird-men” that sailed through the air were rockstar famous. No community was as aviation crazy as Santa Rosa, in large part because of hometown daredevil Fred J. Wiseman, whose progress in building an aircraft from scratch, making his tentative flights and finally public exhibitions were events followed breathlessly by both of the town’s newspapers. As noted in the introduction to this series, over forty articles about his doings appeared in that year alone. And so it came to be that Tom Gregory flew one morning with Fred Wiseman and thus entered the record books himself as the world’s first terrified passenger.

“I had assured Wiseman that there was no limit to my nerve,” Gregory wrote in his Press Democrat essay, “but when I saw him monkeying around the engine of his bi-plane, and I looked aloft and saw the emptiness of things up there, I begin to get skreeky.”

It was an inspired choice by the PD to send Gregory aloft. He was an experienced reporter with a long career at the San Francisco newspapers where he was also often published as a featured poet. Tom was now settling in to his final career as scholar and historian, writing what still remains the best history of Sonoma County. And far from least, he was one of the funniest writers found anywhere. “‘We are almost ready to go,’ said Fred, doubtless thinking I was impatient to start. I wasn’t. In fact, could have sat there and waited a week, or even longer.”

After a detailed description of the aircraft, “[f]inally we stowed ourselves aboard, and amid the deafening crackle of the engine and the buzz of the propeller, we spun along on the bicycle-wheels for about thirty feet.” And then Tom Gregory was flying. The entire article is about 1,300 words and transcribed below, all of it quite an enjoyable read. An excerpt:


How shall I describe it? Just as soon as the wheels left the ground we seemed to stand still, and every object around us and below us seemed to hurry past. There wasn’t a bump or jar, though occasionally a swinging sensation when Wiseman tipped his plane the fraction of an inch–infinitesimal things count for much up in the air–and we were pulling higher against gravitation…I didn’t do any talking or anything else except gasp and catch breath, but I noted that Wiseman was exceedingly busy. He would elevate and depress his altitude planes as we would strike a warmer body of air which would drop us–or a colder, which, being heavier, would buoy us up to a greater elevation. Of course we would fall first on one side and then the other, and Fred’s shoulders woud work the tilting planes in his almost-agony to get her level again. Once when we went over until I almost quit breathing he attempted a jest by saying our starboard wing had passed over somebody’s hot chimney…He picked a “soft place to fall on,” and killed the engine, and in the silence which seemed doubly silent after the boom of the motor and propeller, we glided softly down; the wide planes parachuting us in safety, to the old earth.

Fred J. Wiseman making a test flight at the ranch near Windsor where the aircraft was built, 1910. PHOTO: National Air and Space Museum

Tom Gregory’s essay has worth beyond its historical and entertainment values; it also provides unique insight into how people of the day actually saw these strange-looking machines that somehow flew. His essay might also help clarify an old dictionary mystery: The origin of the word, “airplane.”

Before “airplane” there was the British name, “aeroplane,” which appeared in print in 1873 as the name given to the flat wings of a glider invented seven years earlier. Even before that was “aéroplane,” coined in 1855 by Frenchman Joseph Pline to describe a proposed gas-filled dirigible driven by propellers. Thus at about the same time, the English and French were using the same word to describe both a section of an aircraft and the whole thing itself.

The French name was supposedly derived from the verb planer, which means to glide or soar (the French adjective for a flat surface plane is plan, and it wasn’t spelled “aéroplan”). But for reasons unclear, the venerable Oxford English Dictionary declared that the “plane” part of the name had nothing to do with flat surfaces or gliding, but instead came from the Greek verb planos, which means, “to wander.” As the OED is considered Holy Writ by dictionary editors, this odd claim has been repeated in almost all English language dictionaries, much to the annoyance of some scholars (there’s even a book on this topic).

The wordy dust over the meaning of “aeroplane” settled in 1906. That year near Paris Alberto Santos-Dumont made the first certified flight entirely under its own power, cementing the view of France as the leading country in aviation research. Scientific American also conceded that an aeroplane was the name for a flying vehicle and not just a part of it – although there was a bit of a scrum when it was proposed that the overall thing should be properly called an “aerodyne” instead.

All of this stumbling in etymological weeds is preface to explaining how revealing it was that Tom Gregory in his 1910 essay seemed to revert to the old British terminology in describe Wiseman’s flying machine in terms of planes. There were the “side-planes” (wings) with “smaller planes called ‘balancing tips'” ( called ailerons today), “elevating planes” and a “horizontal plane” (forward and rear elevators) and a “vertical plane” (rudder). Note that he only once used “wings” in a way descriptive.

Clearly, Gregory was parroting terminology he heard from Wiseman and his partners, which showed they were immersed in the latest technical literature about aviation, such as patent applications and engineering magazines; “balancing tips,” for example, was a short-used term that only appeared between 1910 and 1912. But even more so it reveals Wiseman and others like him had no romantic notions that flying an aircraft required some kind of innate talent or was a simply taught skill like driving an auto. Wiseman viewed himself as the operator of a collection of interconnected planes, which modern pilots call “control surfaces” to be manipulated in the same manner.

Thus: “aeroplane” (“airplane” in the U.S. by 1911) is really a practical, descriptive noun. It’s not a lyric reference to the manmade wings of Icarus that soar or glide or wander about in the sky; it is as functional and plain in meaning as “washing machine.” It simply means a thing in the air that is controlled by moveable flat surfaces.

Yet even though Tom Gregory penned a remarkably precise description of the aeroplane of the day, he could not refrain from waxing poetic about the experience of flight. “It was startlingly exhilarating, it was gloriously joyful,” Gregory concluded, “but I was scared every cubic foot of atmosphere we drove through. I am scared yet.”

BI-PLANE RIDING AMONG THE BIRDS
How it Feels to Get Off the Earth With Only Empty Air or a Cloud Within Reach

(By Tom Gregory)

“Now hold your nerve–guess you have enough for this, only keep it,” said Aviator Fred Wiseman as he began to “crank-up” for our jump towards the clouds.

I had never been off the earth, but wanted to be–especially since April 18, 1906. It seems so easy to spread wings, flap, flap a little and up in the void. And it seems so safe, too. Most any kind of bird can fly. I have seen a buzzard go to sleep with wings aspread and not even a wisp of fog to hold him up. I had assured Wiseman that there was no limit to my nerve, but when I saw him monkeying around the engine of his bi-plane, and I looked aloft and saw the emptiness of things up there, I begin to get skreeky. Ah aeroplane, bi-plane, fly-plane, or whatever class of plane you may choose to call it, is not as safe as a flat-car; nor does it possess the longevity of an ox-wagon. There is a delicacy about its make-up. You are trusting your precious self to a couple of wings of India grass cloth, 32 feet long and 5 feet wide, hung on piano wire. It is true the cloth and wire are the lightest and strongest that can be procured, but they didn’t appear quite strong enough for this sky-stunt. While Fred was going over things in the matter-of-fact way of all machine-people, I was going over it in the way of a person who would like to be somewhere else.

Besides the two great planes which cut into the atmosphere at an upward angle calculated to overcome the downward pull of the earth–you know the old globe hates to let us go–there are stuck far out ahead smaller planes of the India grass, called elevating planes. Back in the rear are the steering or vertical planes, and attached to these is another horizontal plane which also assists in the elevation of the airship. On the great side-planes are smaller planes called “balancing tips,” and I assure you they are the only things that may be said to stand between the flyer and his own funeral. In fact, during about every second he is a-wing his vehicle is trying its level best–or unlevel best–to capsize. The space is full of probably millions of air impulses or currents, plunging and twisting in all directions, and the fly-man doesn’t find them till he is right among them and he feels himself tilting downward. His hands are full, gripping the steering wheel and elevating planes; his feet are full, working his motor-power; his head is full, wondering how hard he will hit the planet revolving below him, and every cubic foot of the air around him seems full of things unstable and intangible. Attached to his shoulders are the levers of the balancing-tips, and by heaving his body from side to side he works these life-savers, possibly in time to get back to an even keel before he is under the wreck on the ground beneath. Oh! the flying-machine man is a busy man when he is setting a pace for the birds.

“We are almost ready to go,” said Fred, doubtless thinking I was impatient to start. I wasn’t. In fact, could have sat there and waited a week, or even longer. Then he turned loose his motor and the 7-foot-6-inch propeller began to hum. Its pitch is such that with its 1800 revolutions each minute the whirling thing was soon driving a fifty-mile gale to the rear of the machine. But we were not off. Wiseman was only trying out his power, trying his engine, trying my nerves–trying everything in reach of his hand. M. Peters, his partners, was trying the tension of the oil-tempered wires, the steering-control, the working of the planes. In fact, everybody present was taking no risk, but was trying something. I was trying to get my courage up.

“It is well to be careful,” explained Wiseman. “We may not have another opportunity.” Finally we stowed ourselves aboard, and amid the deafening crackle of the engine and the buzz of the propeller, we spun along on the bicycle-wheels for about thirty feet. Fred slightly tipped the elevating planes, and we were off–the earth, with all the drive of the 75-horsepower engine.

How shall I describe it? Just as soon as the wheels left the ground we seemed to stand still, and every object around us and below us seemed to hurry past. There wasn’t a bump or jar, though occasionally a swinging sensation when Wiseman tipped his plane the fraction of an inch–infinitesimal things count for much up in the air–and we were pulling higher against gravitation. It was a calm day, no wind except our motion and the movement of the air as our propeller caught and dragged it to the rear. Atmosphere at the earth surface weighs 15 pounds to every square inch it presses upon, and this solid body offers not only something for the planes to rest on but the same something for the flying propeller to grapple. Yet a wrecked aeroplane can fall through it with the greatest of ease. Frequently the spruce frames of the planes in the tremendous strain would crack loudly, but they are “laminated,” each timber put together in thin layers, pressed and glued in a solid stick making it additionally strong with as little weight as possible. The propeller is of the same construction. There was a strong pressure on the cloth of the planes showing that they were “lifting” for all that was in them and giving us a fly for our money.

I didn’t do any talking or anything else except gasp and catch breath, but I noted that Wiseman was exceedingly busy. He would elevate and depress his altitude planes as we would strike a warmer body of air which would drop us–or a colder, which, being heavier, would buoy us up to a greater elevation. Of course we would fall first on one side and then the other, and Fred’s shoulders would work the tilting planes in his almost-agony to get her level again. Once when we went over until I almost quit breathing he attempted a jest by saying our starboard wing had passed over somebody’s hot chimney. We didn’t try any Icarian flights, so didn’t get high enough to have “the sun melt the wax on our wings,” as it did the old Greek aviators. We were not breaking records or necks, and the Sonoma birds may have the speed prize. Our whirl around the turn was made in a graceful curve, fluttering the leaves on a gum tree we drove dangerously near but escaped by Wiseman’s slapping his rudder-plane hard-a-port. He picked a “soft place to fall on,” and killed the engine, and in the silence which seemed doubly silent after the boom of the motor and propeller, we glided softly down; the wide planes parachuting us in safety, to the old earth.

It was startlingly exhilarating, it was gloriously joyful, but I was scared every cubic foot of atmosphere we drove through. I am scared yet.

Today Messrs. Wiseman and Peters, the builders and owners of the successful bi-plane, which has been exhibited during the Carnival in this city, will make exhibition flights at the race track, and the public will have an opportunity to see the airship in its native element.

– Press Democrat, May 8, 1910

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GOODBYE FUNNY GUY, HELLO MR. HISTORIAN

Jeff Elliott Leave a comment

Readers of 1909 Santa Rosa newspapers had cause to lament: The funniest man in town finally landed a real job.

For about a decade, Tom Gregory had contributed humor columns and wry news items to both the Press Democrat and Santa Rosa Republican. The editors here recognized him for the treasure he was – a fabulist in the style of Ambrose Bierce, a story-teller like Mark Twain, a satirical political commentator like Finley Peter Dunne – and allowed him a byline, which was a sure sign of his readership popularity. (A bio and full appreciation of Gregory appeared in an earlier essay.) Alas, newspapering pays beans even for the most talented writers, so at age 56, Tom Gregory accepted a position as editor and author of North Bay county history books. Rarely did his name appear in the local papers after that.

A couple of his 1909 articles have appeared here earlier: A colorful news item about a visiting circus and a (mostly) straight-forward account of a visit by state legislators to Armstrong Grove. A pair of other offerings are transcribed below, and are Gregory classics. One is the sort of tall tale sometimes called a “quaint” in old-time newspaper lingo, and tells about a boy who secretly makes a batch of taffy in defiance of his “health faddist” parents. The lad tries to hide the evidence of his crime and soon Dostoevskian complications ensue.

The other piece is clever political satire, but parts make no sense today without background. That week Santa Rosa was in the middle of its latest skirmish of the water wars, and as discussed here before, the town had an unfair and ridiculous rate schedule that charged not just on how much water was used, but on how it was used. It cost far more to turn your hose on a vegetable garden than a flower bed; a home turned into a boarding house paid $10 a month, while a water-guzzling factory like the tannery only paid twice that. In his column, Gregory pokes fun at this hair-splitting via a (somewhat labored) analogy to Ancient Rome: “When Rome was preparing to teach her language to a conquered world she didn’t say what class of building was meant. Upstairs, downstairs, hut or palace, all the same.”

There’s also a bit about the purchase price of a pig bought from H. M. LeBaron. Also at the time a deal with the state to buy Armstrong Grove from banker Harrison LeBaron suddenly became mired in controversy. A San Francisco newspaper published a story claiming that the old-growth woods were worth only a fraction of the price LeBaron was asking, and that led to several heated letter-to-the-editor exchanges between LeBaron and his old rival lumbermen. In one of these letters, LeBaron answered Gregory that he had sold the pig below market price because “it was a China hog and I don’t like China pig-tails.” Sad to say, that little racist yuk likely went far to improve LeBaron’s image among the section of the populace unsympathetic to bankers.

THOUGHT IT WAS METEOR
Something for Pure Food Commission to Decide

“Well,” said the traveling man, “I don’t know as I’ve got anything in my head this morning that will do for a newspaper story. Yes, there’s one, only its being true might more or less disqualify it. The story was suggested to me by an account in a ‘Frisco paper telling about a comet or a meteor, or a bunch of stars falling around in Santa Rosa the other day.

“It happened to me when I was a kid in a small town near Chico. From my childhood up I had always had a great propensity for eating candy. Now both my parents were pronounced health faddists and confectionery was of all dietary things what they most abhorred. Hence, about the only candy I ever managed to have access to was what I could steal out of the barrel containing that article in the village store.

“One day when the folks were gone to attend a vegetarian district convention in a neighboring town, I conceived the desperate notion to make some taffy. Having as accessories a cook book, a hot fire, a frying pan and the necessary ingredients, I did it. If I had murdered my little brother–I didn’t have any, by the way–I could not have been more careful in hiding the evidence of my act than I was in the circumstance in question. I cleaned the frying pan and wiped the mouth of the molasses jug–and in fact I had everything as it was save for the presence of the incriminating taffy. I didn’t have time to eat it. Therefore I determined to hide the same. To make the process easier, I rolled the sweetness into a lump about the size of an ordinary cantaloupe. To reduce its volume I rolled and hammered and compressed the thing until for heaviness, hardness and impenetrability, a chunk of reinforced concrete were veritably ooze in comparison.

“Then I interred it in the back yard, which however, I soon saw wasn’t going to do at all. For the neighbor’s dog–a measly cur–promptly dug it up. A brilliant idea next struck me. There was a crevice in our chimney where a couple of bricks were lacking. Here I placed the treasure, though not without considerable risk to my neck and some damage to my trousers. And here the taffy ball remained for many hours, screened from the sight of all save that of the all seeing sun.

“Now, the chunk of candy hadn’t got any softer from its brief stay in the earth, and the smile of the head of the solar system was bringing it around to a state of petrefaction [i.e. turning into stone – J.E.] pretty fast. For in summer time around Chico it’s so hot that a whole barrelful of water has been known to evaporate in a single day, and the barrel itself fall to pieces after the liquid is out from exceeding heat and dryness.

“Somehow or other the taffy roll didn’t nestle very securely in its repository and a sudden gust of wind coming up and shaking the chimney, the thing was dislodged, slid down the roof and hit the street. Now the street ran down hill for about a hundred yards and the taffy too, gaining momentum all the time. It finally stopped in a pile of sand, half burying itself therein.

“It happened that there was a bunch of old timers standing near the place where the projectile had spent itself. An acrimonious controversy in regard to infant damnation was abruptly terminated by the arrival of the strange object. To all of them it seemed that it had dropped out of the blue sky above them. One thought that it was some anarchist bomb or infernal machine that had been shot up in the air from a distance to fall upon and destroy the city hall, which was near by. There were no airships in those days and nobody took the object for a chunk of aeroplane machinery. Sentiment was about unanimous that it was a meteor or a piece of a comet or a falling star. They examined the ball gingerly and declared that the substance was not of this world. One old miner said that he had dabbled with every metaliferous material that the earth’s bosom afforded, and he was prepared to state unqualifiedly that this was something he had never encountered. Another observed that the thing looked just like a meteor that he had seen fall in Arkansas twenty year before. An assault was made upon the mysterious business with a hammer and chisel, and even with a pickaxe, but it couldn’t be so much as dented. It was finally voted to send it to the Smithsonian Institute. This was strenuously objected to by one of the party on the ground that it was his, as he had seen the same first. And he took it and has got it to this day on his parlor table beside the family Bible. He would no more dispose of it than he would the holy sepulchre if he owned the latter.”

 – Santa Rosa Republican, September 16, 1909

ON THE WATER WAGON BUT IS NOT SATISFIED

“I’m afraid I’ll have to load up my old wagon and move on,” said the Up Town Citizen, as he came into the REPUBLICAN office to advertise the sale of a dog. “This part of the earth is getting fierce. I settled here fresh from Chillicothy, Mo., a-flying from a violent youth, as it were, ‘long in the fall of ’49. A friend got me to come. Said this was sort of an annex to ‘Old Missoury,’ where a quiet, peace-loving, highly-moral, church-going person could find an ideal life. My friend could sling slithers of poetry words those days, yes. But now, I donno. Of course, I havn’t [sic] any family, and am not in the age when the wild mustard and johnny-jump-ups are bloomin’ all around a fellow, but I’m not receiving bids for bunches of worry, and I’ve got a few more years to use up before I die and pass back over the bridge at Kansas City. Guess I’ll have to wander to some other fireside, where taxes stop on the ground-floor and city parks grow without irrigation.”

After a “sumptuous feast,” to use a copyrighted term of the rural writer, of his mind on the real estate ads in the Los Angeles exchanges on the editorial desk, he put a new record in his talkophone. “It set me to thinking mighty hard,” said he, “when the Appellate Court remarked by wireless that our moral consciences were asleep, and other things too fierce to mention. That message when it sizzled through the air must have scorched the edges of the clouds. (I hope the Chamber of Commerce won’t put that in its next booklet.) I never expected to hear such a hand-down in California. It makes me once more long to hear the happy hogs grunting among the autumn acorns in the Livingston county river bottoms.”

After the U. T. Cit. had gone over the legislative proceedings in the morning papers, he again turned on the current of his observations: “And now, here following the great work of the last city election voter, following the narrow escape of the hop-yards and vineyards from ruin, following the Sbarbaro recommendation of low-proof claret in place of tea, the town has gone dry. Free water for domestic use limited, haunts the water-tax consumed by day, and is the dream mare that gallops over him at night. The word domestic is the storm center of the commotion. The only authoritative decision on the matter has come from Webster, (Noah) L. L. D., who found it among the literature of the Latins in the ‘domus’ house. When Rome was preparing to teach her language to a conquered world she didn’t say what class of building was meant. Upstairs, downstairs, hut or palace, all the same. It didn’t make any difference whether the Roman citizen had an office on the Forum or inhabited a fisherman’s shack down along the Tiber. Caesar’s domus was his house, and whether he lived there, wrote his commentaries there or planned the subjection of empires there, his tongue — the mother of all tongues, saith not. The law interpreters of Santa Rosa say ‘domus’ is a place where folks feed.

“I’m afraid the higher tribunal will again balk if called upon to scrutinize the ‘special legislation’ features of our water dispute. There doesn’t seem to be enough constitutionality in free water for one water-tax paying family which inhabits a certain kind of domus… [missing microfilm]

“Mercy!” said he, after a long breath-catching pause, “what a scolding poor H. M. LeBaron is having handed out to him! First, he was scolded for trying to sell the people of the state of California some nice trees. He was scolded till the scolders learned that they are really nice trees and are truly worth every cent he wanted for them. Then they began to scold because they had not been told how much money the Armstrongs are to get out of the tree-sale. Then they scolded until it dawned on them that it is none of their business. Finally, they began to scold because they did not know whether LeBaron got control of the trees by cash, by note or by option. Wot!

About twenty-five years ago while living near H. M. LeBaron’s ranch, Valley Ford, I bought a hog from him paying him $3.50 for the porker. It was worth $4, and for a quarter of a century I have joyed in the thought that I out-financed the Dairyman’s banker four bits, and might have increased my profit by reselling the shoat instead of eating him. It would have shown practical commercial foresight on my part if I had made LeBaron tell me what he paid, if anything, for the pig. It would have shed more public light on the transaction. I would then have known whether he got it by cash, by note or by option. It may now be too late for an investigation, but I would like to known. LeBaron, how much did you pay for that hog?
 TOM GREGORY

 – Santa Rosa Republican, March 3, 1909

 THE SMOKE WAS EXPENSIVE
A Single Cigar Costs Tom Gregory Five Dollars

Tom Gregory, the well known newspaper writer and man about town, is fond of luxurious living. Yesterday he smoked a $5 cigar and says the smoke was worth it. It happened in this wise:

At the beginning of the new year Tom, like a good many of his acquaintances, turned over a number of new leaves, among which were the promises that he would refrain from taking his daily toddy (or toddies) and that he would henceforth eschew the seductive weed. With great chunks of virtue sticking out all over his intellectual countenance. Tom dropped into the REPUBLICAN office and, while rummaging through the exchanges, told Perry Allison, the foreman, that he had sworn off smoking and would forfeit a bright five dollar gold piece if he was caught breaking this resolve.

Now, January had thirty-one long, wet, dismal days, and as the month drew to a close it was noticed by Tom’s many friends that he had become somewhat crusty of late, and that a few more wrinkles adorned his high forehead, and a few more crows’ feet had gathered around his eyes. Still, the odor of tobacco was noticeably absent from his breath.

Wednesday the tumble came. Tom had wandered into one of his favorite haunts, a local cigar store, mechanically his hand went into his pocket, and mechanically his fingles closed over a ten cent piece lying there. Mechanically the hand placed the ten cent piece on the counter, and also mechanically the clerk placed before Tom his favorite brand of cigar. He took one, carefully removed the end and applied the match. Puff (oh, what bliss), puff, puff, puff–suddenly Tom remembered–but it was too late. There stood Perry Allison beside him with a grin on his face a mile long. Tom didn’t try to explain. He just smoked. He hasn’t paid that five dollars yet, but says he will gladly, as the smoke was worth it.

 – Santa Rosa Republican, February 4, 1909

 PUBLISH A HISTORY OF SONOMA COUNTY

 H. A. Preston of the Historic Record Company of Los Angeles, was in this city Monday. This publishing company is engaged in getting out the histories of the counties of the state, and Mr. Preston is in the county looking over the field in preparation to start his corps of assistants gathering data for the Sonoma county history about the first of next month. The work will be illustrated, beautifully printed and bound and will be an interesting and accurate record of imperial Sonoma from the stirring pioneer period to the present. Among those who will assist in the work will be Tom Gregory, the well known local newspaper writer, who will edit the historical portion of the volume.

 – Press Democrat, November 11, 1909

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ARMSTRONG GROVE SCANDAL

Jeff Elliott Leave a comment

I don’t think it’s ever good when your name appears in front page headlines next to the words, “Ugly Scandal,” but it’s particularly rough when the newspaper article appears on the eve of your closing the deal of a lifetime. The person was Harrison M. LeBaron; the deal was the sale of Armstrong Grove to become a state park. The scandal was that LeBaron and the state senator from Santa Rosa were supposedly trying to rook taxpayers by grossly inflating the worth of those irreplaceable thousand year-old trees.

The cash value of Armstrong Grove and the nature of LeBaron’s private deal became hotly discussed topics in the 1909 Santa Rosa newspapers. Although dailies of that era rarely printed letters-to-the-editor, lengthy comments began appearing, sometimes two or more a day, sometimes with correspondence from still another person folded into a letter. Even more remarkable, these same letters appeared in both the morning Press Democrat and the evening Santa Rosa Republican – something I’ve not found before. These waters kept roiling for five weeks, making Armstrong Grove unquestionably the #1 local story of the year.

Some of the background was covered in an earlier post, but the need-to-know basics are such:

* THE ARMSTRONG ERA   The 440 acre woods were first owned by Col. Armstrong, who was one of the lumbermen who made a fortune clear-cutting the Redwood Empire of redwoods in the late 19th century. Armstrong apparently always thought of the grove as a showcase; as the Russian River resort scene was just launching in 1887, he discussed setting aside forty acres for a hotel with park land (the rest he was presumably going to log).

* BEGGING THE STATE TO TAKE IT   Strapped for cash in 1891, Armstrong offered to sell the grove to the state without luck (there was no state park system at the time). When he died in 1900, Armstrong tried to deed it to the state in his will, with the proviso that his heirs would act as trustees. The legislature balked, said to be because of the trustee provisions and also because of pressure from timber interests who hoped the valuable woods would now be sold. The property remained in the ownership of Armstrong’s children, Walter and Elizabeth (“Lizzie”).

* THE LeBARON ERA   In 1908, Harrison LeBaron struck a deal with Walter and Lizzie (more about that later). LeBaron controlled the Dairyman’s Coast Bank, which was the primary financial institution in west Sonoma county. The banker immediately announced he intended to chop down the woods and make a big profit – that is, unless the state would quickly agree to buy the property. State Senator Walter Price (R-Santa Rosa) vowed to present a bill that would purchase the grove, but only if LeBaron would please agree to delay logging long enough to get the state to approve. 

Senator Price produced a very nice illustrated booklet about the grove for his fellow legislators, and as the state senators and assemblymen returned to Sacramento for the 1909 session, it looked like a deal was in the bag for the state to purchase the land for $125,000 (equivalent to about $3.25 million today). Then the article appeared on the front page of the San Francisco Call.

The Call was San Francisco’s great muckraking newspaper, so it wasn’t unusual to find it featuring a story about a crooked politician. But anyone who read past the headlines and the illustration of Senator Price’s semi-disembodied head floating in front of trees found the article was charging that Price and LeBaron were in cahoots to sell the land for 3x its true value. Even more scandalous, in the eyes of the Call, was that LeBaron didn’t own the grove at all – he had only paid the Armstrong heirs a few hundred bucks for an option that expired before the end of the year. If the state bought the woods, Lizzie and Walter would split $40k, and LeBaron (and Sen. Price?) would walk away with a cool $85,000 profit for little risk.

A followup article in the next day’s Call backed off from some of the earlier claims. LeBaron’s profit wouldn’t be so obscene after all, the paper now reported, as Walter and Lizzie’s share was $40 thousand each, and LeBaron had already paid Walter in full. The newspaper also cooled down the hysteric tone; LeBaron was now “the patriotic citizen” and there was no further suggestion of a hidden arrangement between Price and himself. LeBaron was called to Sacramento the same day as the first Call article appeared. The Call article was also wrong about LeBaron’s current asking price. Over a dinner with members of the assembly’s forest committee a few days earlier, LeBaron had been questioned about his deal and forced to lower the price to $100,000. Still, a committee of senators and assemblymen would junket to Sonoma County that coming weekend to see the grove for themselves.

Letters and editorials immediately began appearing in the Santa Rosa papers contradicting the Call articles as well as other letter writers. Armstrong Grove was worth the original asking price; it was worth more; it wasn’t even worth $40,000; LeBaron did own the property outright, but hadn’t paid very much for it; LeBaron had paid top dollar for options on the land and would hardly make any profit.   

There were too many letters to transcribe them all, but stumptown’s founding father George Guerne wrote in support of LeBaron and suggested that should spare himself grief by logging the woods, which he thought had a value of $128,000. Guerne’s estimate was disputed by Andrew Markham, another of the old-time timber barons. That lumberman/banker said the grove was worth about $85,000, and by the way, LeBaron would be making an obscene profit because he had only paid $30,000 for most of the land, plus a small option on the remainder owned by Armstrong’s daughter. Markham said he knew these details because Armstrong’s son, Walter, owed him money at the time, which he paid off by the sale of his share of the grove to LeBaron.

 In a letter that appeared in both papers, LeBaron wrote that he wasn’t about to reveal any details about his dealings with the Armstrong heirs. A few days later, he forwarded a letter from Walter Armstrong:

“You are having a time of it with the ‘kickers and knockers,’ I see by the papers. If I can do you any good let me know.

“Markham does not know it all be any means. I did owe him some money and I paid it. He was sore because he did not get the ‘Grove’ on a mortgage, and because I paid up the loan he felt sore…Sam Wright [who had written a letter quoting Markham] has about as much right to know what I and my sister received on that as he would have to know who President Taft put in his cabinet.” 

THE UNDISTINGUISHED GENTLEMAN FROM SANTA ROSA

The same day that State Senator Walter F. Price and other legislators returned from their junket to Armstrong Woods, he introduced his only piece of legislation that actually made it into law: The infamous eugenics law, which allowed for the forced sterilization of anyone in a state hospital or prison and specifically anyone at the California Home for the Care and Training of Feeble-Minded Children in Glen Ellen.

Walter Fitch Price (1858-1946) was a Republican who served two terms in the state assembly and one undistinguished term in the state senate from 1907-1911, where he failed to win passage of the Armstrong Grove bill as well as an Audubon Society-sponsored bill to crack down on illegal hunting. He was a back-bencher in the pocket of Southern Pacific, according to California Weekly, a progressive magazine: “a man who can be counted on to do any political work that the Herrin organization wants done” (William Herrin was the railroad’s top lobbyist).

In his hometown of Santa Rosa, however, he was an important player as the Republican party became ascendant. He was accused of being among the four political “bosses” or Santa Rosa by the reformers who sought to oust the “Good Old Boy” faction in the 1908 city elections. That August the San Francisco Call also claimed Price ran the Republican machine in Sonoma County along with ex-Senator E. F. Woodward (a friend of James Wyatt Oates, by the way). When he wasn’t in Sacramento he could probably be found at the Price & Silvershield office that sold real estate and insurance. His partner, Henry Silvershield, moonlighted as city assessor.

Price also had a number of political patronage jobs. After his tenure in the state assembly, he was appointed as a Deputy Tax Collector of Internal Revenue, a position that caused some discussion when he was elected  senator, as he legally couldn’t hold a federal and state job at the same time. While senator, he was appointed to the Expert State Board of Examiners. Prior to the 1908 elections, Price was to be nominated as the Collector of Internal Revenue for the Northern District of California. This was a job with enormous opportunities for patronage, as the Collector could hire as many Deputies as he desired and review cases of tax evasion that could be forwarded to the Treasury Department for prosecution. “The man with the strongest political strength will be appointed,” the Call reported. “The victor, it is declared, must be a man who is in a position to rally a large force to the support of the republican party next fall.” It appears that Price didn’t get the post (but I can’t be 100% certain), but that he was considered for the job by Republican party leaders shows he had significant political clout.

LeBaron’s own letter blamed all opposition to the deal on “Democrats and Doodle Dees” operating out of “political spite and prejudice toward Senator Price or myself or both,” while reminding everyone that the grove was valuable because it was one of the few stands of old-growth left. He named a couple of similar properties that were now logged out. “As to the Markham tract,” LeBaron wrote,” there have been different mills upon it and there may now be some dams by the mill site, but there is no lumber by a damned sight.”

Markham exploded. “Mr. LeBaron, you are all wrong and I am afraid you are disturbed,” he wrote in a letter the very next day. His 150 acres of virgin timber land was untouched and not for sale, he insisted, and furthermore, he wouldn’t accept Armstrong Grove if it were offered as a gift. “You had better not use my name in this matter again. I do not care whether you, or Price, or any of the real estate men makes a hundred thousand or five hundred thousand, and I hope you will die a very rich man.”

Wow.

Far less was questioned about Senator Price’s role in the deal. He immediately offered a statement to the SF Call: “I am not, never was, and never will be financially interested in the Armstrong grove…” But as pointed out in an op-ed from the hyper-partisan Press Democrat, the Republican senator was not accused of having a personal investment; “It has by inference been charged, however, and publicly, that he is financially interested in securing the passage of a bill authorizing its purchase by the state.” In other words, there might have been an understanding that if the bill passed, LeBaron would make a generous campaign contribution, offer a zero-interest loan from his bank, or something similar.

The PD also observed that Price had been working unusually hard to achieve passage of this bill. Besides producing a costly illustrated brochure, he had solicited endorsements from civic groups and clubs to demonstrate he had strong local support. “It does not necessarily follow that there was anything wrong about this; but in view of the conspicuous activity displayed by Senator Price in working up public sentiment on the proposition he naturally laid himself open to some criticism besides very materially weakening his right to claim that he introduced his bill solely because of the [e]ndorsement given the project in this country.”

But maybe Price did have his fingers in the pie after all. As mentioned in the earlier post, an article four months earlier in the Santa Rosa Republican had stated, “Senator Walter F. Price has secured an option on the Armstrong Woods, recently purchased by Hon. H. M. LeBaron…Mr. LeBaron has entered into an agreement with Senator Price on the matter.” If accurate, that clearly sounds as if there was indeed a straight-forward (but probably illegal) investment deal between the two. Too bad the muckrakers at the Call didn’t know about that bombshell.

The State Senate approved purchase on Feb. 23, almost three weeks after the controversial article appeared in the Call. The bill went to the governor’s desk awaiting his signature. And there it died at the end of the session, an unsigned pocket veto by Governor Gillett, a Republican.

The future of Armstrong Grove again went into limbo. LeBaron died in 1914, and his eldest son joined with Lizzie in making a new sales pitch, this time to the county. A tax measure was placed on the 1916 ballot and endorsed by both newspapers, Luther Burbank, and conservationists around the state. It passed, with a selling price of $80,000. Adjusted backwards to 1909 dollars, the cost was exactly half of LeBaron’s original asking price. Never has the county had such a deal since.

 

NOTE: Two of the 1909 articles below use the colloquial phrase, “nigger in the woodpile.” It may have originated in the 1850s as a reference to hiding escaped slaves on the Underground Railroad, but by the Lincoln presidency, it referred to there being a hidden purpose in a proposed law. Although offensive today, the articles are transcribed here exactly as they appeared in the papers. The goal of this journal is to provide an unvarnished look at early 20th Century Sonoma County as viewed through its newspapers, where racist terms routinely were used to ridicule people of color (although that’s not exactly the case in this instance). To downplay or outright censor the casual racism that appeared in these “family papers” would be to whitewash the unpleasant aspects of our history. -je



A committee of legislators inspect Armstrong Grove, Feb. 7, 1909
Photograph courtesy Sonoma County Library

PROMOTERS ASK STATE FOR PROFIT
Ugly Scandal Threatened in the Legislature Over Bill to Purchase Armstrong Grove
Deal to Preserve Big Trees is Urged by Senator on Sentimental Grounds
President of Dairyman’s Bank of Valley Ford Stands to Clear $85,000
Owners Willing to Sell for $40,000 and Option Will Expire With Session

An ugly scandal is threatened in the state legislature when the bill for the purchase of the Armstrong grove of big trees in Sonoma county comes up for final consideration. The measure is fathered by Senator Walter F. Price, and while its passage has been urged on sentimental grounds, it develops that its promoters stand to clear $85,000 on the deal. The grove can be purchased for $40,000. The state has been asked to pay $125,000. The property is assessed for $12,500.

Between the present owners and the state stands H. M. le Baron [sic], president of the Dairyman’s Bank of Valley Ford in northern Marin county [sic]. Le Baron has an option on the property for $40,000. He demands $125,000 and has interested Senator Price in his scheme. Price has been extremely active in behalf of the measure. In fact, he has organized “sentiment” in his county through the city authorities and chambers of commerce of Healdsburg, Cloverdale, Sebastopol and other cities in that district.

Big Profit Involved

Price has not give publicity to the fact that his friend Le Baron stands to make a cool profit of $85,000 at the expense of the state. Le Baron assumes an air of indifference and says he is not eager to sell even at the price named. Be that as it may, it is perhaps more than a coincidence that Le Baron’s option runs “until the end of the session of the legislature.”

Before he went to Sacramento Senator Price made a tour of Sonoma county and was instrumental in organizing meetings at which resolutions were adopted recommending that the state purchase the grove. Very soon after the session opened Price introduced his bill. It is now pending.

In some quarters there was a disposition to doubt the valuation assumed by Price and an investigation was begun. It was not long before it became known that Le Baron has merely an option on the tract and that he had instituted an advertising campaign in furtherance of the measure.

Capitalized Sentiment

Then came the revelation that the astute banker from Valley Ford had capitalized sentiment with a view to an $85,000 profit. His unique investment was predicated upon the prospect of a gain of something over 200 percent, and this without the outlay of more than a few hundred dollars.

The grove belongs to Walter Armstrong and Mrs. Elizabeth Armstrong, his sister, and it is from them that Le Baron has secured his option. He paid $400 for it, and has made it doubly certain by placing a deed to the property in escrow. Le Baron evidently was not inclined to take any chances, for with his deed safe in a Santa Rosa bank, his friend Senator Price, was busy in Sacramento lining up the members of both houses in favor of the deal.

Death Prevented Gift

The grove, which comprises 400 acres of beautiful redwoods, was owned originally by Colonel Armstrong, a pioneer and father of the present holders of the tract.  Colonel Armstrong had frequently said that he intended that the wonderful trees should be preserved. He had made plans to deed the park to the county or the state, but died before he was able to carry out his intentions.

Upon his death the grove passed to his son, Walter Armstrong, and his daughter, Mrs. Elizabeth Jones. They too, desired that it should be preserved. An agreement was made by which Mrs. Jones held title to 205 acres and her brother 195 acres.

Some 18 months ago Walter Armstrong decided to take up his residence in Los Angeles and entered into an agreement to sell his portion of the tract to Le Baron under certain conditions. Recently Mrs. Jones gave Le Baron an option on her part of the tract on the condition that it should go to the state and be forever preserved. A deed was drawn up and placed in escrow in the Exchange Bank of Santa Rosa.

Small Sums for Option

For the option Le Baron paid Armstrong and his sister each $200 or $400 in all. He agreed further to pay for the park in case he decided to purchase a total of $40,000 or $20,000 to Armstrong and a like amount to Mrs. Jones. The option was drawn up to run until the end of the session of the legislature. Under the terms of the option given by Mrs. Jones it appears that Le Baron has the right to sell only to the state of California.

As soon as the thrifty banker had gone through these preliminaries he began his campaign to unload on the state at an $85,000 profit. Senator Price covered the county and Le Baron got busy in his own behalf.

Le Baron does not deny the facts. He simply says that he does not care particularly to sell to the state. He evidently overlooks the fact that his option specifies that he must sell to the state.

“Understanding” Denied

“There is no understanding with any one on this matter,” said Le Baron. “I would like to see this grove preserved, but I would much rather that the state would not purchase it for $125,000, as I can get more for it for the lumber. The grove will make fine lumber, and as there is now a scarcity of redwood I could dispose of it easily to great advantage.”

At her home in Cloverdale MRs. Elizabeth Jones confirmed the reports as to the deal as far as she knew them. She said that she desired to see the grove preserved and had given an option to Le Baron on the express condition that it be sold only to the state. For further facts Mrs. Jones referred to her attorney, John T. Campbell.

Attorney Campbell was not impressed by the size of Le Baron’s prospective profit. He said he believed the grove to be worth $250,000, but failed to explain why with that knowledge he had allowed his client to give an option on her half interest for $20,000. At Campbell’s valuation Mrs. Jones should have received $125,000.

Attorney Talks of Risk

“Mr. Le Baron knew when he went into the matter,” said Campbell, “that there would be expenses for advertising, awakening sentiment, and for examination and other things which would cost something. He figured the cost and then added something for the risk and trouble involved before fixing the price at which he was willing to dispose of the property.”

A few years ago the property was cruised and a report made that for timber purposes it was not worth much more than $20,000. There is a vast stand of redwoods, but the trees are of the variety that requires the most expensive machinery.

There is a decided sentiment throughout the state in favor of the preservation of these wonders of nature. In fact, no people have been quicker than those of California to extend a protecting arm toward the forests which have become famous the world over. The Armstrong grove is recognized as one of the most picturesque in the state, but the attempt to hold up the state for a vast profit for its purchase will come as a shock to those who were earnestly working for the measure in the belief that its promoters were actuated by a laudable sentiment and not be a commercial consideration.

– San Francisco Call, February 3, 1909
NEWSPAPER DOES INJURY
Made Eroneous [sic] Statements About Armstrong Grove

A great injustice was done to Sonoma county and the State at large by the publication in a metropolitan morning paper of this date of an article purporting to be the facts related to the Armstrong Grove purchase by the State. A bill has been introduced by Senator Price asking for an appropriation of $125,000 for the purchase of Armstrong Grove. The original bill as introduced in the Assembly also asked for a like amount. Later a conference was held between Senator Price and Assemblyman Whitney in which the facts of the proposed measure were carefully gone over. It was discovered that the appropriation asked for was too high. Mr. LeBaron was called to the capital, and after much persuasion consented to sell the tract for $100,000. The bill as originally filed went up to the Forestry Committee. … A full investigation of the real value of the tract. based on facts show that Mr. LeBaron has an option on one-half of the tract from Mrs. Jones, for $40,000. The assumption is, and cannot be justly controverted, that he agreed to pay an equal amount to the other heir, that would make the amount of Mr. LeBaron’s pledge reach $80,000. The bill provides for State payments on an installment plan, leaving it up to Mr. LeBaron to pay interest on the large amounts of capital required for the term of payments. This will easily bring the expenditure, with the other necessary expenses, as the passing of the abstract, and advertising, to approximately $90,000. On this proposition Mr. LeBaron stands, and doubtful too, to make $10,000; not more than any real estate dealer would ordinarily make on a transaction of this magnitude…
J. M. ALEXANDER

– Santa Rosa Republican, February 4, 1909
THE ARMSTRONG WOODS

The Call’s story regarding the proposed sale of the Armstrong Woods appears to be a strange jumble of fiction and fact…As near as we have been able to ascertain, Mr. LeBaron some time ago purchased Walter Armstrong’s interest in the grove outright, paying therefor in one for or another about $40,000. Later, he secured an option from Mrs. Lizzie Armstrong Jones on her half of the property, agreeing to pay $45,000 for the same, said option running only until the adjournment of the present session of the legislature and being admittedly given with the express idea of furthering the sale of the combined properties to the state. According to the terms of the bill introduced by Senator Walter F. Price to provide for its purchase, the cost of the property o the state is to be $125,000. This leaves a difference, or profit, or percentage, or whatever one is pleased to call it, of $40,000 instead of $85,000 as stated by the Call.

We are hardly prepared to say that $40,000 is too much for a private citizen, laying no claims to patriotic motives, to make on a deal of this character and magnitude. Nor are we prepared to say that $125,000 is too much for the state to pay for the property in question. Considering the use to which it is to be put, and the further fact that such bits of accessible virgin redwood forest are none too plentiful, the probabilities are that the Armstrong Woods are worth every cent the state is being asked to set aside for their purchase.

But $40,000, or $4,000, or $4000, or $40, or forty cents, is too much for a public servant to make on such a deal, or any other deal through graft.

Senator Price has practically been charged by the Call with grafting or attempting to graft on this proposition.

If the facts are as we have them, the only point to be considered seems to be whether or not the very conspicuous interest taken by Senator Price in the matter is personal or impersonal. If his hands are clean, and if all the profit on the deal is to go to the man backing the project, we are frank to say that we fail to see anything in the matter so far brought out that justifies public opposition to the bill. From the public standpoint, it will be unfortunate indeed if the plan to secure this wonder-spot of Nature should be defeated by misapprehension on this point, or unjustly.

It seems to be up to Senator Walter F. Price, patriot and reformer, to make the next move. For his own as well as for his pet project’s sake, he should make his position plain and set himself straight before the people if he can.

– Press Democrat editorial, February 4, 1909
THAT NIGGER IN THE ARMSTRONG WOOD PILE

The great Armstrong Woods scandal yarn published in the San Francisco Call last Wednesday and hastily amended the following issue, has so pitifully petered out that to make any further reference to it is like respanking the baby or hitting the house cat another swat. What a lovely story it was! A bee-u-tee-ful story! Red hot off the bat. According to it H. M. LeBaron of this county is unloading a patch of redwood trees on the pee-pul of the State of California for $125,000, a clear gain to the prize real estate man of $85,000. Senator Walter F. Price of Sonoma county is engineering the nice little deal through the legislature.

Around the country a few readers thought they saw this alleged nigger in the Armstrong Wood-pile and were interested in the tale, but most of the Call’s readers saw the cap-and-bells in the story. If the managing editor of that journal had not been so carried away with the beauty of its phraseology and its commercial value as a “story,” he would have noted in time that the alleged amount of the “graft” was too huge, too unwieldy to handle and that the tale was over-colored, over-written. As evidence that he did notice the errors, the following issue of the paper contained an amendment in which was added $40,000 to the sums Mr. LeBaron must pay the Armstrongs for the 400-acre tract of redwoods. This lowered the “graft” from $85,000 to $45,000 and rubbed several coats of black off the conspirators. This amendment is not enough, and the fact that the paper has changed its statement on the principal point has caused the public to lose faith in its “news.” Moreover, H. M. LeBaron is not rated as a dishonest man, nor is W. F. Price believed to be a rascal or a fool. Neither of the men are expected to be found in a transparent “get rich quick” scheme that was reported to transfer $85,000 from $125,000 to their pockets in a minute.

The price which the State is asked to pay for the Woods is $100,000, and not $125,000. The industrious political enemies–both lay and editorial–of Senator Price cannot get away from the bigger figure. To keep the argument alive it must stay at $125,000. Mr. LeBaron dropped $25,000, though he doubtless would have preferred the larger amount, and is there any real estate dealer in this highly moral burg who would not? Now the people of the State of California and the people of the County of Sonoma (even if Price’s Sonoma county friends write “red hot stories” to city sensational papers denouncing him and his work) will get the splendid grove of sequoia for a play ground forever and forever more. Here is another argument: Mr. LeBaron paid Walter Armstrong $45,000 for that heir’s share, and with the $40,000 he must pay Mrs. Lizzie A. Jones for her portion of the tract, if he follows up his option, he will be out $85,000 instead of $40,000, as reported Wednesday. This leaves his putative profit $15,000 instead of $85,000 (vide city paper) and $40,000 (vide local paper). Lord, but it does take a heap of instruction to get some newspapers on the right track. However, if those journalistic opponents of the Armstrong Woods reservation proposition keep on scaling down the amount of alleged graft at the present rate of progress, by day after tomorrow they will have H. M. LeBaron paying the State $40,000 or $85,000 to take the block of trees off his hands. Moreover, if the sale is made, he must wait for his money, which will come to him in installments, causing him an expense in interest on the investment. There will be other expenditures to be made which will perceptibly cut down that so-called graft to an ordinary profit. The Press Democrat, a journal published in this city and county, and whose conservativeness on the subject is marked, says editorially:

“Considering the use to which it is to be put, and the further fact that such bits of accessible virgin redwood forest are none too plentiful, the probabilities are that the Armstrong Woods are worth every cent the state is being asked to set aside for their purchase.”

So, the nigger in the Armstrong Wood-pile turns out to be only the chirp of a juvenile cricket. Nobody has seen the cricket, but one person heard him and several persons who did not hear the vocal insect, told what they would have heard the cricket say, if they had heard the cricket say anything.

The end of this poor attempt to dig a scandal out of the proposition to preserve from destruction the grand trees of the Armstrong Woods near Guerneville, reminds me of the fate of the ambitious skunk that backed up against an approaching train. After the cards had passed all that remained between the rails at that spot was a deficit and a disagreeable smell. TOM GREGORY

– Santa Rosa Republican, February 5, 1909

PRICE AND HIS STATEMENT

A great deal of talk has been occasioned by the publication of the Call’s article dealing with the proposed purchase of Armstrong Woods by the state, and Senator Walter F. Price has issued the following statement in reference to his position in the matter:

“I am not, never was, and never will be financially interested in the Armstrong grove to the extend [sic] of one penny, and insinuations that I have introduced this measure on such a motive are unjust and not founded in fact. The people of my district wanted the grove preserved and it was because of their indorsement [sic] that I introduced the measure. I have no positive knowledge of Mr. LeBaron’s dealings in obtaining possession of the grove, but I know that he must have paid at least $80,000 for the property. I was one of the legislators who stood out against him when we were conferring on the price, and made him come down to $100,000.”

It is unfortunate that Senator Price is not more specific. Nobody has charged that he is financially interested in Armstrong grove. It has by inference been charged, however, and publicly, that he is financially interested in securing the passage of a bill authorizing its purchase by the state. If such is not the case, Senator Price ought to say so–and prove it, if such a thing be possible. He says he introduced his bill “because of the indorsement…” given the project by the people of this district. Does he refer to the various resolutions passed here by civic and fraternal bodies? It is no secret that in most instances they were introduced at Senator Price’s personal solicitation. In more than one case the resolutions were personally written and prepared by that gentleman. It does not necessarily follow that there was anything wrong about this; but in view of the conspicuous activity displayed by Senator Price in working up public sentiment on the proposition he naturally laid himself open to some criticism besides very materially weakening his right to claim that he introduced his bill solely because of the “indorsement” given the project in this country.

Senator Price says he has “no positive knowledge of Mr. LeBaron’s dealings in obtaining possession of the grove.” He feels very sure, however, that Mr. LeBaron “must have paid at least $80,000 for the property.” Perhaps it would have been better had Senator Price posted himself on the subject. He then could have discussed the matter more intelligently and convincingly. Senator Price is not usually backward in such matters. As a general thing he is fairly familiar with the details of anything happening in his vicinity. His bashfulness in this instance held him back at a most inopportune time. Positive information on the subject of how Mr. LeBaron secured possession of Armstrong grove is what the public is demanding now, and somebody ought to be able to supply this information. If Senator Price is unable to do so, he must not blame the people for thinking it strange. He is the recognized spokesman for the measure, and should have fortified himself with the facts, and ought to be able to supply them, whether he is or not.

While Senator Price finds himself compelled to plead ignorance as to some of the important facts in connection with his principal bill. The Press Democrat believes it is able to supply them. We are in receipt of some later information which we believe to be absolutely authentic and which states that the final price agreed upon between Mr. LeBaron and Walter Armstrong for the latter’s half of the grove was $30,000. This was when the option was replaced by an actual bill of sale. The original option was for $40,000. If our latest information is correct, of this purchase price of $30,000, only $10,000 has actually been paid. This point is immaterial, however, for the purchaser has obligated himself to pay the balance in two equal installments and nobody will dispute the fact that his obligation is good. The option secured from Mrs. Lizzie Armstrong Jones is for $45,000, and on this nothing has been paid, if we except a possible nominal sum put up to hold the option. On an actual expenditure of $10,000, then, Mr. LeBaron, with the assistance of Senator Price, is swinging a $100,000 sale to the state, the latter figure being the one now agreed on as a price for the property. The cost will be $75,000 and the profit $25,000.

There is not necessarily anything wrong about a proposition of the above character. Many a sale of even greater magnitude and promising far more profit is swung on less money. But why not come out and [illegible microfilm – probably ‘admit the details’]? Hardly anyone will contend that the property is not worth the price now asked for it–that is, to the state and for the purpose to which it is to be put. With the amount of profit to be made, the public is not particularly concerned, providing it is legitimate and is applied to no questionable ends. The people of this county, particularly, are anxious to see the Armstrong property secured by the state and turned into a public park. They fully realize all that it would mean, both to them and to the state generally. There is not desire here to block the proposition. Instead, it is just the other way. So much has been said on the subject of graft, however, that some definite assurances that there will be no graft, will have to be forthcoming. If Senator Price cannot supply the kind of information wanted, perhaps Mr. LeBaron can.

Speak up, Mr. LeBaron!

– Press Democrat editorial, February 5, 1909

AMONG THE BIG SEQUOIA IN THE ARMSTRONG WOODS
Legislators Come and See the Trees Sonoma Wants Preserved

The legislative party from the State capital arrived in this city Saturday night, paid a visit of inspection to the Armstrong Woods near Guerneville on Sunday morning and returned to Sacramento on the afternoon train of that day. The time was necessarily limited to a few hours, but the travelers saw even in that brief period that the salvation and reservation of that last stand of splendid trees should now be assured the people of the State of California. Said one member of the party on his return from the grove, “Every statement, every argument spoken or written by the friends of the measure is true. The question of what the tract of trees has been worth, or what it may be worth now to any private party, or what the present owners may have paid for it, is a woeful begging of the whole question. We believe the Armstrong Woods as a public park for all time are worth the amount asked in the bill.”

[… several legislators compliment the forest and the area …]

Another gentleman said, “The time is passing away when ‘anything’ can be worked through a legislature. The people are demanding that their representatives make good. The public evils that have been blighting the land must go. The ‘sack’ that used to swing through the capitol during the sessions is either not there now, or it swings very low. We are all Missourians and the man with a measure must show us. The race track bill went through because its opponents had against it as argument only spiteful and peevish abuse for its champions. It did not make the poolseller less a blackleg because a clergyman said he was such. And behind the measure were the people of California, and it was so ordered.”

[..]

Senator H. M. Hurd of Los Angeles, said if they had the Armstrong Woods in the “Southland,” they would not only preserve them, but they would exhibit the trees to eastern tourists as Burbank creations.

Sunday morning the special train of several coaches carried the entire company of local people and visitors towards Guerneville. A transfer was made around a landslide at Eaglenest and the passengers were soon in the famous Sonoma timber belt. El Rio Russian, swollen to the draught of a battleship, was dashing violently to the sea, as if to show the legislators that she was a navigable stream for other than steam launches and salmon. The hospitable people of Guerneville were ready for the party and seventy-five strong they turned out in their carriages and carried the visitors to the place where the grand trees that Colonel Armstrong so long guarded from the destroyer, stand in their majesty. It was an April-like day–cloud and sunshine over the forest. After the light shower, the golden light falling down through the green boughs gilding the raindrops on the foliage and bronzing the red shafts of the kingly sequoia–noble columns in this temple of God. Through the woody corridors the visitors wandered, voicing their admiration and commending the spirit that has moved the people of the State to preserve these matchless things. From Luther Burbank delving down in the long hidden secrets of seed and pollen, they harked back to the day when the Almighty said let green things appear on the earth. Did these then in their obedience to the Voice spring from the newly created soil? After the centuries shall they now pass away?

Guerneville Entertains

After being caught and cameraed by Photographer John Ross in that splendid forest gallery–and made to look how small a statesman is even beside a tree–the party returned to town and found in the Masonic hall the ladies of Guerneville awaiting with tables spread. And the solons proved to be good trenchermen. “It was not a salad and sandwich spread nor a smart luncheon,” said a hungry man, “but a dinner, a mother cooked dinner; one of the best I ever got loose at. And the waitresses were perfection. If Guerneville wasn’t so far away from Sacramento, I;d try to dinner there every day of the session.”

The party returned to Santa Rosa in the afternoon and later boarded their train for the capital.

The legislature visitors were Senator W. F. Price, Sonoma county…

TOM GREGORY.

– Santa Rosa Republican, February 8, 1909
INTERESTED IN THE REDWOODS
Mr. Cnopius Realized Possibilities Years Ago

Lewis C. Cnopius, the well known owner of Camp Vacation, has been interested in the redwood section of that vicinity for more than twenty years. His ability to see into the future foretold to him the possibilities of that beautiful section as a summer resort, and for the purpose of establishing summer homes there for the purpose of establishing summer homes there for the populace of this vicinity and the cities about the bay. With that vision of the future he invested in that section, and his property is among the most valuable in that vicinity.

In going through some of his private papers recently he found a letter from Colonel J. B. Armstrong, the owner of the Armstrong Woods, written in answer to an inquiry from Mr. Cnopius and dated October 2, 1887. In it Colonel Armstrong spoke of the idea he had in mind, and which he attempted to carry out at one time, regarding the big redwood trees of that section becoming a state park, and which is now before Governor James N. Gillett for his signature. The letter has the following to say regarding the matter:

“Your information respecting my forty acre grove of redwoods being set aside for a park is correct. Also that five acres will be deeded in fee simple to the party who will erect a building for a place of resort.

“The forest will remain untouched by the hand of man for all time, except to bring down from the mountain of water of a large spring for a fountain.

“There will be no restriction on the use of the park for public resort–except that it shall not be a camp ground, for permanent occupation might lead to injury done the timber. It is very beautiful in its present natural state, with immense trees and slopes and glades equal to the finest landscape gardening.”

Mr. Cnopius is especially anxious to have the Governor sign the bill preserving the redwoods to posterity, for he knows the value of those trees and the tract of land, and what an incentive they would provide to attract visitors to this section and country.

– Santa Rosa Republican, April 19, 1909

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