Prepared by the National Geographle Boclety, Washington, D. C.—WNU Service HOLD they are not worth a . ov a. take them as indemnity after the war with Mexico. thy,” he added, ‘‘can there be be- tween the people of . . and . . . the Eastern states . . .?” ago. west of the Mississippi, some 6,158,000 people. One of them said to a visitor: ‘It took my folks 200 years to get to California. They landed in Virginia about 1650, and moved west with the frontier. My father ‘got here in the 1850s.” full beards, a sweet, bright-eyed lady said: “My dress must be all of 130 years old. from Nova Scotia.” Her men fought grizzly bears and Klamath Indians, panned gold, and cut timber to build schooners. Only once in 15 or 20 years did they get down to San road reached northwest till long after she was grown. “My father was general Mariano Vallejo, the last Mexican officer to command this post,” proudly as- serted Senora Luisa V. Emparan of Sonoma. ‘He was born at Monte- rey. Here are his silver mounted tols. After America acquired Cali- fornia he became a patriotic, influ- ential citizen of the United States." In such ways came the whites who people this land — divergent races, from sources far apart. Many Came From Foreign Lands. In Napa county you see how French, Italian, and German grape growers form yet another racial strain. In 1880 one-third of all peo- ple then here had come from for- eign lands, a fact which was pro- foundly to influence the human and and largest of all states. Seek quiet country lanes that lead to long-established homes of both native American and foreign stock, Monterey was a seat of Spanish culture before Washington, D. C., was even surveyed. Russians had built Fort Ross, and were growing wheat and trading counterfeit wam- pum for otter skins before peace ended the War of 1812. Ever since Hubert Howe Ban- croft’s painstaking researches, writ- ers have told and retold the story of early California — and they still make use of Bancroft's incompara- ble source material, preserved now at the state university in Berkeley. To see what the white man has done with work, tools, and science in developing this region as it is now, consider the place where his labors began. Ride through the “Mother Lode country,” where the first pick marks on this now lush, opulent land were made by the gold seekers. Every hillside, gully, and stream bed shows the scars of shafts, tunnels, and frantic digging. Ruined huts and half - deserted “ghost towns’’ dot these gold fields from which bearded men in red- flannel shirts gouged nuggets and panned the yellow dust. Melancholy Columbia is adumbrative of all these early camps. In its old Wells- Fargo stagecoach office you see the clumsy scales on which, records prove, more than $30,000,000 in gold was weighed. In boom days 15,000 people lived and worked here; now the village is shrunk to a bare 250, Ghost Towns Are Numerous, All through Sierra foothills you find these fading towns, with such names as Rough and Ready, Slug Gulch, You Bet, and Grizzly Flats, At Hangtown (now Placerville) long stood the big tree on whose stout limbs two men could be strung up at once. In Tuolumne county is the cabin of Bret Harte, whose charac- ters in “Tennessee's Pardner’” and “The Outcast of Poker Flat” were drawn from hereabouts. Another shack is labeled “Mark Twain's Cabin.” Violent, murder. ous, and thieving though life in these diggings was, Twain was able later to say: “Always do right; it will gratify some and astonish the rest!” In those halcyon mining days he wrote ‘The Jumping Frog of Calav- eras County.” Each spring now the once hedonic town of Angels Camp stages a “jumping frog’ contest; entries come even from distant Ar. kansas. Guests with what Pope called “nice foppish gusto” lock with gluttonous avidity on the fat legs of these prize-winning frogs. Though from these gophered hills Gold Rush to California's destiny is often overlooked. Think of the black- smiths, carpenters, cowboys, farm- who came with the gold - hunting They cleared land, built towns and roads, sent East for wives, raised husky ‘‘Sons of the Golden West,” and spread the raw canvas for this 1936 picture of north- ern California at work. Few, comparatively, got rich in the mines; that wasn't economic production, anyway. They simply found the gold, at first, and took it. In time, mining settled down to a business of deep shafts, stamp mills, smelters, timbered tunnels, roads, and towns. All this meant more food, machinery, lumber, transportation, clothing, amuse- ments. To supply these, farms to grow meat and grain developed; towns with factories, schools, and music halls grew up to take care of mines, of farms, of each other. Law grew, too, from this pioneer experience—the doctrines of appro- ing, water rights, and grazing. Students of jurisprudence say it is seldom had their ori , development, and final adoption by a legislature all within one lifetime, as came to pass here. Sutter Founded Sacramento, John A. Sutter, Swiss adventurer, built a trading post on land given him by the Mexicans. That was the beginnin of Sacramento, in 1839. It 18 5t ic location: soil was rich, the river afforded easy transport San Francisco, and the new town was right in the path of settlers coming from the East through Emigrant Gap. Sure, swift steps in the rise of that town epitomize the American conquest of this region. First Sutter fought the Indians, then hired them to farm his lands, run his cattle, and work about his “fort.” Kit Carson and John C. Fremont Into Sutter's Fort (now Sacramens- drove the first immi- train to cross the here men went, in grant Plains. wagon From snowed in and fighting starvation. Sutter's hired man, digging to build a sawmill, found gold at Co- loma in 1848, and started the great stampede. This lawless horde poor. Others held the fort, and traded furiously. $2,000 a ton to haul freight to the mines’ It cost a pinch of gold dust to buy a drink of whiskey, and only men with big hands were hired to tend bar! Dance halls never closed; even to- day one advertises itself as ‘Bon Ton Dance Hall. Beautiful Girls Galore.” Miners, brate, brought their gold in an old sock, or in yeast cans! Modern good for a dance with a “‘taxi girl." California became a state in 1850, swarmed through Sutter's Fort, from the East. About it a wild lawless town was growing, a town of tents and rough boards, of saloons, eating places, stores, and black- smith shops. Most goods came first to San Francisco by sea, and then up the Sacramento river. State Almost Divided Once. capital got to Sacramento in 1854. than that which once almost divided California into two states. Only the prevented this. From Missouri came the Pony Ex- press in 1860. Next spring riders carried Lincoln's inaugural address through from “St. Joe” in seven days and seventeen hours—the fast. est trip on record. Then a half- ounce letter cost $5; one now is flown by overnight plane for six cents, Building east from Sacramento in 1869, the Central Pacific met the Union Pacific railroad at Promon- tory Point, in Utah; Senator Stan- ford drove a golden spike. Isola- tion was ended. Men and goods moved west at unheard - of low rates, at speed thought miraculous. Today Sacramento railroad shops are among the world's largest. About the old fort, where pioneer blacksmiths shod mules, filed saws, and whittled out pick handles for the miners, rises now a busy city of more than 500 factories, including colossal canneries of fruit and vege- tables. ¥ “The White Hell” By FLOYD GIBBONS Famous Headline Hunter OU know, boys and girls, in most cases adventuring is some- thing that just happens to you all of a sudden. But Wendy MacGowan of Brooklyn, N. Y., went at it deliberately. Wendy was married in India in 1933, and she and her husband started out on the strangest wedding trip you ever heard of—a climb over the great Himalaya mountains, into Little Tibet. The whole doggone trip was an adventure—but one part of it was even more so. They started out with eleven porters, carrying their kits and tents, rode horseback as far as they could, and then continued afoot into the mountains. At thirteen-thousand feet they ran into snow ~—and found that the pass they had intended to go through was ice bound. They had covered most of the distance then, and they didn’t want to turn back. They decided, ice or no ice, to push on through the pass. Right there, their porters went on strike. To go on was sheer suicide, they said. Came to “The End of the World.” But after an hour of argument, y's husband bearer, Shaik Khan, and two veteran porters to accompany rest of the porters they sent back to a rest house where pick them up on the way back. ‘““The place we had come end induced his gun The they could to,”" says ‘““was called by the Hindus ‘The End of the World. Before us towered a huge rock wall culminating in twenty-thousand foot crags that shut off the whole horizon. Even the large scale map we carried was y blank be- yond this point. Few people had ever been there before Pat} was pure guesswork, and we had not even t that we were. But we pretended to know all abou into our porters Ve cl for three hours up ¢ us into a ravine Already our porters w but it was too » day to turn baci missed his foot urtled down over luckily, little hurt, he experience was t we camped for the night.” The next morning they tried again. They climbed for two hours to a spot where a waterfall cascaded down a natural rock staircase. Wendy and her husband elected to climb it, but the porters preferred to avoid it and try a way for themselves. “Dragging ourselves from rock to rock,” Wendy says, “we wormed our way up. We were numbed and half dead with the cold when we got to the top. We had completely lost the porters. They Slid Toward a Great Crevasse. “Struggling over a vast ice field, our field glasses, looking for them. Ne had to de right or left. I wanted to turn right. Had have been deaths in an uninhabited Wendy, «© Air finding diols Ourage imbed we swept the scene we gone » nN or our vaiey, Down He Went, Straight Toward the Jaws of the Crevasse. sisted on going left. Then we were pulled up by realizing that to get to the valley we now sought we must go down a solid wall of ice, more than a hundred-feet high and steeper than a ladder. 1 won't dwell on that nightmare. We slid, and with eyes shut, gave ourselves up to Provi- dence. “A tiny snow hummock at the foot of the wall, saved us from a yawning crevasse. With shaken nerves we began to cross a shingly slope above a precipice. As my husband stepped on it, his feet slid out from under him, and down he went, straight toward the jaws of the crevasse. To my horror the whole hillside seemed to move with him. He managed to wrest a foothold from an inch-wide bit of rock, and lay there spread-eagle. By sheer luck I managed to reach him with the strap of my field glasses and haul him to safety.” By that time both of them were torn and bleeding. Was there was no escape from this endiess, icy hell? Far below them they could see a tiny green valley, but they were cut off from it by a straight wall five-hundred feet high. Snow began to fall— quickly turned into a raging blizzard. The afternoon was wear- ing on. They sat there in dumb dismay. A night in the open in their light clothes would mean death. If they couldn't find Shaik Khan and the porters they were doomed. Then, suddenly, they heard a rifle shot. Wendy and her husband started to yell. They focused their field glasses in the direction from which the shot had come and—sure enough-—-there were three tiny, black dots, a mile away, over on the other side of the glacier. Wendy took off her jacket and waved it frantically. Whether they saw it or not, they must reach them. Evidently they had found a path to the valley. ‘““We started off at a rush,” says Wendy, “but re- membering our narrow escapes, we slowed down and climbed high be- fore getting on the glacier again. “It took us half an hour to cross that mile-wide expanse of ice, for we had to detour around numerous crevasses. Bul near- er and nearer we came. At last we reached the porters, and there was general rejoicing when the two parties met.” Mystery of the Rifle Shot. And now comes the part of the story that Wendy says she will never understand. Both she and he husband congratulated Shaik Khan on his astuteness in firing the rifle. He had saved their lives. They told him they wanted to hold a special party for him when they got back on the other side and joined with the rest of the porters. And to their amazement, Shaik Khan became most indignant and swore he had never fired the rifle. Over there in India, no servant is supposed to fire his master's rifle without permission. It's a strict rule. Without it, the ammu- nition would dwindle unacscountably., Shaik Khan, good servant that he was, was hurt that anyone should accuse him of doing such a thing. Even the porters swore that they heard no shot, and when Wendy ex- amined the rifle, not a cartridge was missing. Where did that shot come from? Wendy doesn’t know. But I've sort of got a hunch that old Shaik Khan risked his reputation as a servant to save the lives of his master and mistress, and then didn't want to talk about. Those Mohammedans of North India have some strange ideas abeut honor. © WNU Service. Weevil Great Egg Producer The Modoc Indians The female weevil lays 6,000 eggs a year. For each egg she makes a separate nest by piercing a grain of cereal. Even the deadliest poison gases cannot penetrate this “‘dug- put,” where baby weevil safely hatches, eats its fill, then bursts its way out, leaving behind a useless A tribe of Indians called the Mo- dees was an Indian tribe formerly ranging about North Carolina. 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Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers