“FANCY FRENCH BALL, 1851.
California Gold Rush Journal
CHAPTER EIGHT
San Francisco — July-August 1851
I learned the next day that “Dutch Charlie’s” real name was Charles Duane. Apparently, Frank Ball had been on a jury that failed to convict Duane of beating and stomping a man, then shooting him in the back. Duane held a grudge because Ball had voted for conviction. Ball was also a member of the Committee of Vigilance and Duane was convinced they were out to get him because the Committee alleged that Duane’s lawyer bribed a juror to keep Duane from being convicted.
I also read in the French sections of the morning papers that the French community was incensed at the attack and its aftermath which ruined the gala evening for us all. The Executive Committee of the Committee of Vigilance voted to arrest Duane but was too late. He was in police custody where his cronies would protect him from the Committee.
Members of the Committee were divided on how to proceed as a Duck named Lewis was being tried in the courts for arson. Conservative members of the Committee felt the Committee’s work was done as robbery and arson were less of a threat and many of the troublemakers were on the run.
More radical members voted to intensify activities against the Ducks and announced they would hang Lewis when convicted. They were angered that the Executive Committee had voted to hand over to the civil courts three principal associates of Stuart held by the Committee—James Burns, T. Ainsworth and George Adams. The radical wing called an assembly of Committee members and refused to give the three up.
The next day the grand jury indicted James Burns for serious felonies and ordered his immediate trial. The grand jury also declared that the actions of the Committee in trying and hanging Stuart were “in the best interests of the whole” community and refused to indict any Committee member. The action of the grand jury mollified enough Committee members to allow Burns to be turned over for civil trial on a close vote.
Meanwhile, Frank Ball died of his wounds inflicted in the vicious assault by Charles Duane. Judge Campbell presided over Duane’s trial and made sure there were no Committee Members on the jury. Duane’s lawyer successfully argued there was no intent to kill because Duane used no weapon despite his threat to kill. An intimidated jury voted to convict Duane of manslaughter but recommended leniency. Judge Campbell dutifully sentenced Duane to one year in prison which everyone knew would not be served given his political connections.
Governor McDougal issued his pardon on August 17th. His cronies rejoiced declaring Duane was “a useful wheel of the democratic political machine,” while the Committee of Vigilance denounced the pardon as a double-cross intended “to take care of one of the boys,” when they learned of it later and vowed to retain and try prisoners in its custody.
I was anxious to take a trip to the southern placers, but didn’t want to leave our women unprotected until the tug of war between the civil authorities and the Committee of Vigilance was settled and the Ducks reined in for good. From the look of things, it looked to be a long struggle.
Manon was now uncomfortable with her pregnancy and the doctor confirmed she was carrying twins. I didn’t want to leave her until she gave birth which wouldn’t be until late November or early December. I hoped that Georges would be back with his Nelly by then and could help Manon in the kitchen. I determined to contact all senders of the letters we possessed and put Gino to work on the task.
I drafted a form letter for the printer that asserted my authority and commission by the French Consulate to track down and deliver letters to miners in the northern and southern placers for a fee of five francs per letter which was to be paid by return mail. I explained that mail delivery was spotty at best outside San Francisco and letters to French miners were routinely returned as “undeliverable” by postal clerks who could not read French and dumped them to rot in a dead-letter storage at the city’s postal facility. I asserted my intention to take their letters to the mining camps, collect replies, and forward them to those who had sent their 5 francs.
Fortunately, the postage rate from San Francisco to New York and on to Europe was modified by the Postal Act of March 3, 1851. It lowered the postage rate to 3 cents prepaid and 5 cents collect per ½ ounce for a distance of less than 3,000 miles and to 6 cents prepaid and 10 cents collect for over 3,000 miles effective June 30, 1851. The Act also provided a special rate of 5 cents for unsealed circulars traveling over 3,500 miles. I planned to frank our letters with a 5 cent stamp bearing the likeness of Benjamin Franklin which had been in use since 1847 and was still available at our post office.
As the Act of 1851 declared the use of the 1847 5 and 10 cents stamps invalid after June 30, 1851 and provided for printing of a new series in 1, 3 and 12 cent denominations, I had a hand stamp made to say “5 cents paid” which we would stamp next to the 5 cent stamp. As it would be months before the new stamp issue arrived in San Francisco, our contacts at the post office assured me that the use of the 5 cents stamps would pose no problems coming from California. France might demand some additional postage upon delivery, but the recipient would be sure to pay it to learn the whereabouts of a loved one.
I instructed our printer to use heavy paper that could be folded and to print a small vignette of a view of San Francisco on the fold to contain the addressee and 5 cent stamp and to print larger views of miners panning gold and working the “Long Tom” on the inside of the circular above the text. I thought the circular with attractive views would motivate those with the means to send the requested 5 franc note by return mail. Time would tell.
Since my trip to the southern placers was on hold, I debated how to best keep Gino busy and earning his keep. The answer came from an unexpected source. While Gino addressed and stamped our circular for France, I took a break and decided to visit Pierre-Louis to learn the latest inside info on the struggle between the judicial authorities and the Committee of Vigilance. I was stunned to see Les Bons Amis restaurant chained shut with no note of explanation on the door. I hurried to the French bakery that supplied Pierre-Louis’ restaurant and our wharf-side stands daily with fresh baguettes and other goodies. The baker, Emile, was cleaning his ovens and prep tables when I hailed him.
“Emile, what’s happening at Pierre-Louis’ bistro? I just passed there and the place is shuttered.”
“Ah, I guess you haven’t heard. Pierre-Louis fell coming down the stairs from the apartment over the restaurant and hurt himself badly.”
“When did this happen?”
“Two days ago. The cook came by to say his boss was in the hospital and the restaurant would be closed until further notice. The cook was really upset to be out of a job just like that.”
“Did he say which hospital?”
“Yeah, since he couldn’t walk, the ambulance wagon took him to the American hospital over by the entrance to the harbor.”
“I’m going to hire a cab and see how he’s doing.”
“See if you can find out when he plans to reopen the restaurant so I can restart bread deliveries.”
“Will do. Thanks for the information. I’ll be in touch.”
I rushed over to the Plaza to the taxi stand where a paunch-bellied, irate business man in a suit and top hat haggled for a lower rate for a ride to an address on the steep slope of Broadway.